P.O.V: You Ask SKZ To Buy You Pads (Hyung Line)

P.O.V: You ask SKZ to buy you pads (Hyung Line)

Genre: crack

Warnings: none

Request: no

Characters: Chan, Lee Know, Changbin, Hyunjin, Y/N

---

Tag list ~ @koos-euphoria @raethethey @hugs4chan @hotmesshapa @manonblackbeak-trash @hendsernoodle @stanskzseungmin @ateez-babygirl @dalamjisung @dinosdawn @cookiemonstermusic258 @strwbrryfroyo @gazelle-des-pres @qtieskz @stigmvta @necromancersupreme @super-btstrash-posts @changlix-mp4 @exonations @changboobies @jeyelleohe @rae-blogging @planetdemon @dani41 @jumbocircus @octalalica @velvetand-roses @foivetimesacharm @anaaam @waverzzzzzzzz @peachy-flxwr @elizabeth11moreno @lenfilms @xhazmania @starshine-moon @justoutfromdead @snow-pegasus @lixiesbabyhands @bbychannie97 @laylasbunbunny @americanokisses @bluechan @bellamuerte1987 @meowmeowisdaname @chanssmiles @minunivers @septicrebel @bangchans-angel @spacegirlstuff @sstarryoong (let me know if you wanna be added or removed)

hugs with him

♡ pairing : boyfriend!chan x reader

♡ genre : fluff

♡ warnings : kissing

♡ word count : 0.3k

moodboard

masterlist

Feedback & reblogs are highly appreciated!

Hugs with Chan feel safe, no matter what kind of hug it is, he always gives the best hugs.

When he wakes up in the morning next to your sleeping figure, he would wrap his muscular arms around you and pull you closer to him, burying his face in the crook between your shoulder and neck. He would breathe in your scent and relax immediately, all his worries disappearing.

Or when he comes back home after a long day at work. His arms would be wide open from the moment he enters the apartment. Chan would hug you and kiss your temple every single time he leaves the apartment, but especially when he comes back home, his excuse being "your hugs give me energy to take my shoes off."

Or the days when he feels like the universe is against him. You would be minding your own business washing the dishes when a wild Chan would appear behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. He would never miss a chance to shower you with kisses either. Starting from your neck to your cheeks and finally a long, but loving kiss to your lips. You are the only person who can make him feel better on a bad day.

Or hugs when he comes back from tour, the best hugs in his opinion. He misses you the moment he steps foot at the airport, but he misses you even more when he gets on the plane and leaves for a few days or even months. He wishes he was able to take you with him and travel the world with you, but unfortunately he is unable to. So the moment he sees you after coming back from tour, his eyes would tear up and his arms would be tightly wrapped around your body. Chan would feel his body relax and fill up with energy.

"I love you, Yn!"

list : @seungly @staykkk @yaelx @qnjayn @gold-dragon-slayer @starlostseungmin @bluechans @starshine-moon @lachinitaaaaa @comet-falls @lix-ables @l0veph0bia @snow-pegasus @crispybangchannie @bakugossanity @l3visbby @chrispychans @hyunverse @cherry-0420 @minhosify @strayluvr @strayingawayy @bbujiikseu @hyunjinswifeee @linoboop @straystaychan @cxentrxcks @adorehwang @alyszaen @minholvly @svintsandghosts @aaliyahxsx @seraphicsolitude @hyunluvxo @cleverbasementhideout-blog @lvmazzy @meln25 @beautifulgashinaxxxi @notastraykid

DO NOT REPOST, STEAL AND/OR TRANSLATE MY WORKS!!!!

---

i was not expecting a voice clip at all, but holy shit. man was in for an amazing ride lmao. but also, i feel like as much as i kinda relate with chris in this one(for things i will keep private) i genuinely hope with future chapters he finds his place to stand up to his wife more. his wife seems extremely cunty and not in the affectionate way.

DON'T LET ME LOVE YOU | Chapter 1

«SERIES MASTERLIST»

«We shouldn’t. We really shouldn’t.»

SEDUCTION 📜9.9k | Aprrox. 41-min. read 🚨Refer to series masterlist for general themes & warnings of this story: Referenced past traumatic experiences (broken home, domestic abuse, implied murder, runaway situation), various criminal acts, depictions of a dysfunctional marriage, heavy sexual frustration, sexting, mention of sex toys/teledildonics ("Connected" is a fictional app where partners control each other's sex toys), (mutual) masturbation, handjob, blowjob, risk of getting caught. 💭Reblogs & comments are always appreciated and please keep in mind they are the ultimate motivation fuel. 🍮Like my content? Consider supporting my work with a pudding!

This chapter features NSFW audio purely for the sake of an immersive story experience. Should you choose to listen to it, please proceed at your own risk.

Penguins are monogamous creatures.

The male penguin brings the best, smoothest pebble he can find and offers it to the female. If the female accepts it, they mate for life. Keep one mate away from the other and they will get sick. They will even stop grooming themselves because what’s the fucking point when their literal other half is not around to appreciate them?

The logistics are exactly the same for humans. You offer a shiny stone to your partner with the promise of mating for life. If they accept it, that should be your happily ever after because that’s how every fairy tale ends. Little do those scam stories tell you that shit goes down after you say “I do”.

What is marriage at the end of the day anyway? It’s an insurance policy you never hope to use. It’s a gamble where you go all in that the other person won’t break your heart.

Penguins don’t coerce their partners into mating. It’s an instinctive thing for them. They are unaware of the concept of blackmail.

The only thing some humans have in common with penguins is the tuxedos they wear on their wedding day. Some humans, mind you. They are selfish. They are mean. They are lying, scheming, ugly creatures, and they will do anything to get what they want. Good luck trying to stand in their way and not getting razed to the ground.

Christopher Bang was also married. Beautiful couple, beautiful house, living large on the seven figures he made annually. Pure envy fuel.

If he said out loud that he was thinking about cheating on his wife every second of every day, he would either get shunned to the final circle of hell or get publicly lynched Game of Thrones style because what the literal fuck could someone possibly want more from life? You wanna get your dick wet outside of the holy institution of marriage? Get a fucking divorce!

If only people shut the fuck up for once and provided their unsolicited opinions after knowing the truth.

Because it was nothing but ugly.

Thistles had such a bad rep.

Not only were they categorized as invasive plants, but they were also viciously thorny. Nobody ever cared about how beautiful the bright violet flower was, but for some reason, roses didn’t get the same treatment.

That was exactly why you adored the thistles growing in the backyard of your childhood home. They provided a safe haven for you like a pillow fort made of spikes every time you ran from the yelling and screams of pain echoing in some room of the house. Nobody ever cared to look for you among the vicious thorns.

Nobody ever cared for you.

It was six weeks before your seventeenth birthday that your mother couldn’t endure it anymore. It was six days after her funeral that you left everything behind and disappeared into the night with a piece of thistle stuffed in your pocket. The prospect of getting stranded on the side of some highway was much better than going through the system now that your excuse of a father was behind bars.

Nobody ever cared for you, and no one was going to. You would rather die than rely on someone other than your own shoulders. 

You did try the honest ways at first; just trying to make a humble but decent living to get by, abiding by the rules, and being conscientious. The more you tried to do the right thing, the more people thought you were this poor little naive thing that had nobody, ripe to be taken advantage of.

You would rather die than let someone use you in any capacity.

Yes, all was fair in love and war, but nobody ever talked about how it was also the case in survival. It started as a simple coping mechanism to keep people at bay, just a thin sheet of metal between you and the rest of the world. With all the trials life threw at you, with all the fuckers you had to deal with, it morphed into heavy body armor made of spikes that would put the most reputable knights to shame.

Those who touch it, prick themselves.

Nobody was born a badass. You had to become one.

You were spending your life completely unaware of the concept of taking roots, going wherever the wind took you, frequently changing identities, dancing and scamming for a living, which eventually led you to become a part of The Club, the only woman-led gang that put themselves on the map with branches all over the country. They were the closest thing you had to a family.

You didn’t even know what family was supposed to be like prior to meeting them.

You weren’t ashamed of anything you had done—on the contrary, you were proud of staying afloat on your own and living your life on your own terms. If it came to that, you would do it all over again. 

Nevertheless, human beings had limits, and it was getting more apparent to you as you were getting older.

You agreed to marry some hedge fund guy who was deliriously in love with you for his money. He had promised to take care of you. You didn’t have to do any of this anymore and just enjoy the good things in life like the princess he took you for.

Rule #1: If it sounds too good to be true, it most likely is.

You were so exhausted from being on constant survival mode that you had forgotten all about it.

If taking care of you meant you were supposed to be this window exhibit for him to admire any time he wanted, keeping you away from all human contact, and experiencing acute rage when a male mosquito was passing by then fuck all of this very disrespectfully.

You had grown up adoring thistles. Obviously, you weren’t just going to walk away without a bang. You sought the assistance of The Club’s lawyer then. An absolute expert in shady shit. Lee Minho.

Your last ‘number’ featuring Minho involved framing your dear dear husband for embezzlement to get rid of him, which granted you an automatic divorce and enough money to start a new life. Away from all of this shit. From all the lying and scheming and running away. Just enjoying the good things in life by your fucking self.

And at long last, you saw the sign at the borders of the town.

Welcome to Sunderland!

You didn’t know it back then, but this big-ass cursive sign should have come with a tagline attached to it.

...where suburban dreams are made and all people do is live fake-ass lives.

“Thanks! I’ll take it from here.”

You saw the moving people off, and stood right in the middle of your spacious living room, just looking around your new ‘home’. You thought the warm and fuzzy feeling that you heard about so much would start creeping in already, but… You had no clue what warm and fuzzy was. 

While you were opening a bunch of boxes in search of coziness, your doorbell rang, and on the other side stood someone that looked like they belonged to the cast of Bling Empire.

“Hi, welcome to the neighborhood! My name is Casey.”

A woman in a white sundress with floral patterns. Slightly taller than you, glowing skin, shampoo commercial-looking-ass coiffed long hair, and Instagram model measurements that you knew were obtained after several operations. You ran her through the bullshit filter you had acquired courtesy of meeting way too many people in your lifetime, and your initial results? 

Fake bitch with the potential to be even more annoying.

“Y/N. Pleasure to meet you,” you smiled at her as she handed you what looked like homemade banana bread.

“I live right over there,” she pointed at the house across yours, “Is your husband around? I’d love to welcome him as well!”

Good god, why is she talking in a pitch that disturbs cats?

“Oh, I’m not married,” you kept your composure at the thinly veiled insinuation.

“Aww, it’s okay,” she pouted and placed her hand on your shoulder, “You never know when your soulmate will come knocking on the door. He’s right around the corner, I can feel it!”

There ain’t no way this woman wasn’t hopped up on Adderall or some shit. Who the fuck squeezed eighty five different prejudices about someone in a span of thirty seconds?

What a fucking cunt.

“If you ever need anything, please don’t hesitate to come knock on our door. My husband and I will be more than happy to help you,” her eyes disappeared behind her smile, “I’ll let you get back to unpacking. Welcome again!”

You thanked Casey and closed the door behind you, your ears still ringing from the extraordinarily high decibel she spoke in.

Your doorbell didn’t stop ringing that entire day, and different couples composed of good-looking people kept appearing at your doorstep as if they were auditioning for a real estate commercial, but it didn’t feel like a welcome parade at all. It was more like somebody told someone that there was this denim-short-wearing single person moving into the neighborhood, and the word somehow traveled at lightspeed. From the way those pretty ladies were intensely judging you while smiling at your face, it was so obvious they were just there to declare their assets and show you what you should not touch at all costs. Meanwhile, the aforementioned assets looked at you once and then turned around to look at you again, enraging their partners beyond control on their way back home.

You most certainly did not belong with these modern-day Stepford wives, and needless to say, it was gonna be so much fun to piss them off.

Since you kept being interrupted, you said fuck it to unpacking. In between the doorstep speed dating with your new neighbors, you hung out on your balcony instead, smiling and waving at the passersby. With a glass of wine in one hand and a cigarette in the other, you looked like you were badly photoshopped into that backdrop—all that was missing was a scarlet A stitched to your chest. 

When the goddamn doorbell rang again for the jillionth time that day, you were pretty buzzed and annoyed out of your mind thanks to the unsolicited auditions. Did no one give a shit whether you were available or not?

Fine, we get it, y’all have a commemorative organic cock in your house and I have my fucking dildos. What do you WANT from me?!

“Hi, yes, I’m new here,” you clenched your teeth with a forced smile and snatched the plate from the visitor’s hand, “and I have negative interest in your husband. Thank you for the cookies.” 

“Wow, you’re a bit of a bitch, aren’t you?”

It was… surprising to say the least. You were so conditioned to the saccharine cookie commercial niceness of the Stepford wives that the bluntness hit you like a cool refreshing breeze. Your attitude towards this woman immediately changed because she reminded you so much of your friends from The Club.

“I like you, badass lady,” you extended your hand to her, “I’m Y/N. You daydrink?”

“Nathalie,” she accepted your olive branch with squinted eyes, “Whoever says no to sauvignon blanc in the afternoon cannot be trusted.”

“And now we have to be best friends. Please come in.”

That afternoon, you made your first friend and bonded with her over your mutual annoyance with these fake as hell people. For a second there, you thought you were maybe just being paranoid, but when Nathalie confirmed your observations, you were unequivocally convinced that these people were straight up judgmental assholes.

With the wine-induced comfort she found with you, Nathalie told you all about being as shunned as you the day she moved here because she was ‘new money’—after an extremely lucky weekend in Vegas, she and her husband Jisung had decided to move here in hopes of living a happy life. The Stepford wives were seemingly very cordial with her, but their attitude was nowhere north of ‘you can’t sit with us’. It was like they were doing everything in their power to remind her that she did not belong with them. 

You, on the other hand, immediately liked this woman because honestly, she was the only real one among them. You were pretty sure her husband was as likable as her.

“Okay, I was mad when you first came, but seriously thank you for the cookies. Come by anytime you want, okay? I live alone.”

You exchanged phone numbers with Nathalie and saw her off. As you were opening a new bottle of wine on your balcony, thinking it was going to take a lot of self-brainwashing to get used to this town and its Trumanesque people, you noticed some movement in your peripheral vision.

The garage door to Casey’s house was open, and there was a man inside, literally the only person who did not drop by your place the entire day. He was naked from the waist up and he was punching the sandbag in front of him so hard that you wondered whether he had a personal vendetta against it.

You didn’t make much of it at first. Who the fuck were you to judge when you had that eye candy for a street view anyway?

The next evening you watched him shoot hoops very aggressively for almost two hours all by himself. The day after he did maybe sixty laps in his pool. It was quite obvious he was an active guy, but he seemed to be doing that excessively as if he was trying to compensate for anger management issues or something. He always seemed to be quite irritated, never once smiling.

Besides the fact that he was the only person inducing something akin to butterflies in your stomach even from that afar, there was nothing to worry about.

That Friday, you invited Nathalie for brunch, which was a complete excuse for socially acceptable daydrinking. After you downed three glasses of Bellini each, the topic of conversation shifted to a spicier realm, which happened to be among the things you were a bit too knowledgeable about.

According to what she told you, Nathalie and Jisung both seemed a bit clueless when it came to exploring pleasure. She quite clearly wanted more, and her husband was eager to please, but they were stuck in the vanilla rut of most marriages. 

“Well, have you tried openly communicating with him about this?” you asked while adding ice to her flute.

“I don’t know how. Don’t get me wrong, I love Jisung, but…” she trailed off and heaved a deep sigh, somewhat afraid you were going to judge her, “Sometimes a girl just wants her man to… hit that, you know what I mean?”

“Preach, good woman,” you raised your glass for a toast, “Want me to teach you a couple of tricks?”

“Like what?”

“Y’all have a sex shop around here?”

“A what?”

You looked at Nathalie with wide eyes as if she had told you the earth was flat.

“You’re kidding me,” you raised your voice but immediately backed down and grabbed your phone, “No judgment! The internet will save us all. So what are some things you are into?”

As you were going through some of your favorite products on your phone, you heard the loud sound of an engine, and a car pulled up in Casey’s driveway. You watched the hot workout guy get off the car and head straight into the garage instead of inside the house.

“Hey, Nat, who’s this?”

“Girl, don’t even!” Nathalie immediately protested, “His wife would tear you to shreds.”

“What did I do?!”

“You breathed. You’re the only single in this entire neighborhood and a hot piece of ass. Your chances of survival are very slim.”

Shortly after, he emerged by his pool in his red swimming shorts and immediately jumped into the water to do laps. Your lips parted at the sight, and you spoke without even thinking.

“God, he gives me a massive lady boner.”

“BITCH!”

“What? I can’t control who’s turning me on, can I?” you stretched your hands to the side, “Seriously, who is it?”

Nathalie let out a defeated sigh, “That’s Chris. Or as Casey keeps correcting people, Dr. Bang.”

Dr. Bang me all night long, indeed.

“Casey… Casey… Cas—  He’s married to Malibu Barbie?!”

Nathalie looked at you with raised brows and bust out a loud cackle, “That’s the most accurate description of her if I ever heard one.”

“So he’s a doctor,” you nudged her for more information.

“Yeah, he has his own practice,” she continued, “He’s been to second base with all the ladies of Sunderland at one point.”

“You too?”

“Of course.”

“Damn, the dude’s a player, huh?” you turned to his direction again.

“Don’t be fucking ridiculous! He’s a cosmetic surgeon,” Nathalie immediately corrected you, “There’s not a pair of tits in this town that hasn’t seen his magnificent treatment.”

“Oh…” your eyes inadvertently shifted to her chest, “I mean your tits are indeed awesome.”

“I know right?” she grabbed her breasts and mischievously smiled, “Granted, most people use breast implants as an excuse to ethically spend time with him.”

“Why? Does he grant wishes or whatever?”

“It’s the way he talks, sweetie,” she munched on her croissant, “The guy’s Australian.”

Oh, GIVE ME A FUCKING BREAK! 

“Hot doctor dude with a hotter accent and he’s taken?” you whined a bit too loudly, “Well, fuck my life indeed.”

“Yeah, sorry,” she swallowed her bite and gave you a pat on your back, “You can always consider breast implants, though.”

“I’m good, Nat, thank you.”

A doctor. Ridiculously good-looking. Seemed well-off. Of course every job came with a certain amount of stress, but why did he throw himself into physical activity the second he arrived home?

“Every time I see him he’s working out, though,” you spoke, your eyes still on Chris.

“And? Sue the guy for wanting to keep fit.”

“That’s not it,” you insisted, “He’s overdoing it a little bit. Like he’s angry or some stuff. Why is that?”

“So what if he likes working out?”

“Nat…”

When you stood firm with your observation, Nathalie heaved a sigh and scooted closer to you.

“Between you and me, Casey loves flaunting him around, but I don’t think their marriage is what she makes it out to be.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’ve seen Little Miss Perfect, right? She acts like she’s living in a reality show,” then she continued with even a lower voice, “But rumor has it they don’t even have sex.”

What an interesting piece of information, indeed!

“And… he’s okay with it?”

“I doubt it.”

“So, what is it? Is he like— seeking the company of other people?”

“As if! Everyone’s dead scared of Casey.”

Well, you weren’t.

The more you kept watching him, the more Chris reminded you of the surfers you knew from your time at Kirra Point.

Sunkissed friendly guys who would get you soaked just with their filthy mouths.

Well-behaved guys who were into kinky shit behind closed doors.

Considerate guys who would mark their girls in their beds.

Laid-back guys who fucking lost their shit when someone else touched what was theirs.

You wondered if Chris was one of them.

From that day on, you stopped fighting the urge that had been bubbling inside you. Not only was Chris fucking gorgeous, but his vibe was way more distinctive than his cigar-smoking, scotch-drinking, golf-playing counterparts. You hadn’t even talked to him once, but he had already colonized every single corner of your mind. He was the only thing you could think about every time you touched yourself.

“Just what the fuck are you doing being the Ken to that Malibu Barbie?” you uttered out loud in your bed one night, “A man like you belongs with me.”

“Fuck!”

You were supposed to head to the city center that day to run some errands, and of course that would be the day you had a flat tire. Right when you walked back to your driveway to search for some auto shop nearby, you noticed your neighbor’s garage door was very much open.

Maybe every cloud indeed had a silver lining after all. 

“Nice ride,” you pointed at the Maserati as you walked into the garage, “I’m assuming you also have a car jack?”

“A car jack?” Chris spoke with his back still turned to you.

“I have a flat tire. I haven’t been able to get all my garage stuff yet.”

When he turned around, you established your first eye contact with him. His gaze on you shouldn’t have affected you so maybe, but you felt shocked from head to toe although you didn’t let it show.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” he launched a pair of dimples and extended his hand to you, “I’m Chris.”

“Y/N. I just moved across the street,” you pointed to your house.

“Nice to meet ya. I’ll go get the jack.”

Nothing too extraordinary. His sandbag you were a bit too familiar with hung to the ceiling, some boxes he stored in his garage, a bunch of tools lying here and there… It didn’t tell much about who he really was.

“What brings you to Sunderland?” Chris came back momentarily without being able to find the jack, “This is not really a place to move to unless you have to be here.”

“Very long story. I’ll tell you sometime,” you smiled and leaned against the wooden desk, “What do you do?”

“I’m a doctor.”

“Specialty?”

“Cosmetic surgeon.”

“Oh, goodie, are you doing give-a-shitometer implants because I need one to survive here.”

Chris involuntarily burst into laughter at your words. It had been a while since he genuinely laughed at something.

And the sound of his voice gave you an extreme case of butterfly invasion.

“Unfortunately, can relate.” 

He was still looking around to look for your request, and you decided to fill in the silence with some more small talk.

“Got any kids?”

“No. Happily married without children.”

There was something in his voice that you were a bit too familiar with. It was the exact tone you used when you were trying to pass something as trivial. You cocked a brow and snorted.

“Wow, do they not teach you about the dark arts of lying in med school?”

“Excuse me?”

“Hey, I don’t know you from Adam. You might be a great doctor, but you’re a horrible liar, man,” you crossed your arms over your chest, “You don’t have to take me up on the offer, but I’ll just put it out there that I’m around if you ever need someone to talk to.” 

Chris had found the jack by then so you walked over to him to grab it from his hands.

“Or other things if you ever need it,” you winked at him and reassuringly smiled, which caused him to get flustered for some reason.

“Ot–other things?”

“You know, information,” you shrugged, “Not only am I very perceptive, but I’m also great at research.” 

“Yeah? Anything interesting you’ve perceived so far?”

His tone changed to something much more playful. If you didn’t know any better, you would be inclined to say that he was… flirting with you.

“For starters, I know sexual frustration when I see it,” you brazenly grinned, “That’s why you box a lot, isn’t it?

His expression immediately transformed into shock, which was how you knew you hit the nail on the head. 

“And I’m very discreet. I can keep your secrets too if you want,” you nonchalantly uttered, “It’s been a while since you had some back-arching, toe-curling sex, hasn’t it?” 

Chris was completely stunned, having less than zero clue as to how to respond to that. He didn’t deny it, nor did he tell you to mind your own business for that matter. With the courage you derived from that, you continued.

“What is it? Vanilla lady just lays there and you do all the work?”

No, that wasn’t it. His eyes darted to the floor and you could see his ears getting concerningly red.

“Or is it because you’re too much of a deviant?” you carried on with a smaller voice, “I know for a fact that not everyone can handle that shit.”

He was drawing a total blank. It shouldn’t have been hard to refute, but he clearly enjoyed your blatant flirting considering the smile he was trying to hide with a discreet bite of his lips. Unfortunately for him, you noticed that, too.

“I uh– I don’t– I’m–”

“Sweetheart, are you—? Oh. Hello.”

“What’s up, Barbie?” you greeted the owner of the voice with a salute of two fingers on your forehead, completely unfazed by her presence.

“Casey. We met the other day,” she spoke with a forced smile, “Did you need something?”

“Yup. This bad boy,” you held the car jack.

One needed to be next-level dumb not to notice Casey was looking at you with absolute malice. Chris might have learned how to block the fuck out of it considering how unresponsive he was, but you knew that look. You had seen it many times before directly targeted at you.

“It’s good that I ran into you,” Casey walked over to Chris and linked her arm with his, “We’re hosting our annual fall dinner at the end of the month. You should definitely come!”

Good fucking grief, who knew what the fuck kind of ulterior motive this woman had. Then again, one thing she did not yet know about you was how much of a thick skin you had, and this could be your ultimate chance to put this woman in her place. 

“Sure,” you shrugged and readily accepted her invitation, “Can I bring a friend?”

“Of course! Feel free to bring a date.”

“As much as I’m not married, I also don’t have a partner.”

“I can arrange someone for you!”

“Casey,” Chris warned looking to his left.

Goddamn, Barbie. Way to be subtle about your neurotic tendencies.

“Nor am I looking for one,” you reflected her fake smile back at her, “I meant Nathalie and her husband from two doors down.”

“Oh,” Casey stole a look from Chris and smiled again, “Why not? The more the merrier.”

“Then it’s a date,” you chirped, “Thanks for the jack, Chris.”

“Oh, actually,” Casey corrected you, “It’s Dr. Bang.”

“Ah, of course,” you exaggeratedly reverenced all the way to the floor, “Please accept my eternal gratitude for the car-lifter his almighty excellency, Dr. Bang. I am but a humble servant to your whims whenever you wish, your grace.”

Chris laughed so loudly at your antics that it seemed to have made his wife much angrier.

“And I mean it,” you winked at him teasingly and walked away.

One thing you learned that day for sure was that Casey did not like you.

It wasn’t really discernible. You were reading a book on the swing on your balcony when you heard some yelling in the distance, followed by Chris loudly slamming his front door close and driving off into the night. 

If this is not the proof that suburbia dreams are a scam, I swear to fucking god…

After some time, the night air became a lot chillier, and you decided to walk inside, which was when you heard a knock on your door. Nobody had ever knocked on your door besides Nathalie, much less during nighttime.

“Chris?” you wrapped yourself in your shawl while opening the door, “What are you doing here?”

“Does your offer still stand?” he looked at you with a mixture of desperation and annoyance, “I just need someone to talk to.”

“What’s your poison?” you stepped aside for him to come in, “Scotch? Wine?”

“Gin.”

“The best I can do is vodka.”

“Fucking deal.”

You grabbed two glasses from your cabinet and momentarily returned to your living room couch.

“If you don’t mind me asking, don’t you have any friends?” you started pouring the drinks, “Like male ones your wife won’t flip out about.”

“They are worse than the women populating this neighborhood. You say one thing and it travels all the way to the city council by the next morning,” Chris grabbed the glass and downed the content in one go, “Nothing they already don’t know about anyway.”

“So I’m getting the executive summary on your household drama,” you attempted some lighthearted humor to ease his apparent tension, “Good to know.”

He let out a faint chuckle, and while you were expecting him to start talking, only silence followed.

“I actually don’t even know why I came here.”

“Because you needed a friend,” you gently touched his shoulder, “You can vent as much as you want. I meant it when I said I’m very discreet.”

And boy did he go off. 

Why the fuck did people always have to do everything together, huh? Maybe sometimes he fucking needed his space. Come to think of it, Chris needed his space all the time. Couldn’t people just get the fucking hint? If someone was not spending time with you, it meant they fucking wanted to be away from you, and he was sick of locking himself in his clinic. He wanted his goddamn work and personal spaces to be separate; was that too much to ask? It wasn’t like there were any places he could go to in this godforsaken town anyway. If he could, he would, and he would only come home to sleep. He was seriously considering investing in a shooting range in this town because otherwise he was going to fucking kill someone.

Chris was completely breathless by the end of his monologue while you were looking at him with a calm expression.

“Feeling better?”

“Loads,” he answered, having massively calmed down by then.

You didn’t ask any questions. It didn’t look like Chris could answer many of them in that headspace anyway. You just lent your listening ear to him and kept refilling his glass until he was all vented out. After about an hour later, he noticed what time it was.

“Oh, fuck, I’m so sorry. I should go,” Chris got up from the couch, “Thank you so much for listening to me.”

“Anytime.”

You walked him to the front door to see him off, thinking about how to properly do it. A handshake after a heart-to-heart talk was going to be too formal. A kiss on the cheek might have been too familiar. A hug. A hug was the way to go. It was friendly, but not too intimate. Everybody hugged, after all, right? It didn’t have to mean anything else. You opened your arms to offer him an embrace and he reciprocated. That was it. Everything was going fine. Zero damage.

Until he decided to fucking linger and steal a whiff of your scent from your neck.

You were dead scared to face him and look into his eyes. His big, sad eyes that seemed to harbor some inexplicable restlessness. You wanted to kiss him. Just once. Feel his perfectly plush lips between yours. You just knew he was a good kisser. He would get you so wet just with that moist pair of flesh alone. You could make him cum just by kissing his face off if he let you. 

You didn’t even realize how you were pulling at each other like magnets. The distance between you was almost completely closed when he suddenly stopped himself.

“Do you uh– Do you mind exchanging numbers?”

“Right!” you immediately backed away like somebody pinched you, “Of course.”

He handed you his phone for you to type in your digits, and you called yourself to save his number. After that, there was nothing else left for him to do but leave.

“I um– Yeah, good night.”

“Good night, Chris.”

Once you closed the door behind him, you dashed to your window and watched him walk towards his home with his hands in his pockets. To pretend everything was fine and that he didn’t have a shred of worry in this world. As if he wasn’t trapped within the tight walls of the holy institution of marriage. Who did they think they were kidding? Was this entire town experiencing a collective case of blindness, or did everybody just go along with it? If they did, just fucking why?

That Malibu Barbie-tch was never going to leave him alone. Except maybe for a casual greeting on the street, or making up excuses to borrow stuff from each other, there was no way for you to see him again unless he came to see you.

You really wanted him to come and see you. Just once more. To shelter him from whatever it was that was making him so unhappy.

Until then—if that was ever going to happen, that is—all you were able to do was text one another. About whatever. The basketball game last night, some documentary, ‘You’ll never guess who walked into my clinic today’, which happened to be the mayor’s wife coming in for a butt lift. Stuff that one would assume you would be able to talk to your spouse with. But he was talking about them with you instead. Days were passing by and nothing was happening. 

Except something was happening to you, and you fucking hated that feeling.

It was another lonely night. While watching some rom-com to diss the couples you saw on the screen out loud, you had seen the bottom of a pretty decent rosé bottle already, and you were contemplating whether you should open a second one. You might have been watching a movie to keep the front end of your brain occupied, but you were thinking about Chris again in the background. You were thinking about him a lot.

With all the courage granted to you by the dumb decision juice, you grabbed your phone and opened his message tab.

You Wyd? Chris Can’t sleep. Netflixing. What u doing up so late? You Alcohol intake [Typing…] You alone? Chris Yeah You Where is she? Chris On a plane coming home unfortunately [Typing…]

He stopped typing. You had seen Malibu Barbie just that morning jogging like a reality star followed by cameras, which meant she was out of town for less than twenty-four hours, but more importantly, Chris said she was ‘unfortunately’ coming home.

Huh.

You I can see you typing Finish that sentence Chris [Typing…] Been thinking about you

Goddammit, Aussie dude!!!

Being a cool-ass woman was a matter of pride for you, so you thanked everything fucked up and twisted that there was nobody around to see how much that stupid text made you giggle.

You May have been thinking about you too Chris What are you thinking about? You What are you thinking about? Chris I asked you first

He wanted to know what you were thinking about? Fine. You took off your bottoms in one go, sat down in front of your full-length mirror, spread your legs apart, and took several pictures. After deciding on the one that showcased the gloss on your folds the best, you hit send.

You [IMG_301.jpg] Your mouth right here Chris [Typing…] Are you trying to drive me fucking insane????? You Maybe :) [Typing…]

Was that too much? That had got to be too much. Then again Chris didn’t outright tell you what the fuck you were doing, and one could argue that he gave you a rather satisfactory reaction instead. Maybe he was as drunk as you. Maybe he was also thinking about it. If shit hit the fan, you could always blame it on the alcohol, apologize, and call it a day.

But not without shooting your shot first.

Chris You’re doing it this time Finish that sentence You [Typing…] Can I send you an invite? Chris For? You Some fun [Link] “Vibe with neonredlights on Connected.” Download this app Chris [Typing…] You’re underestimating me [Link] “CB69 is inviting you for a Connected session.” You really shouldn’t

Yeah, apparently you absolutely shouldn’t have, but how in the genuine fuck did Chris know about Connected in the first place? You had never seen a guy owning a remote-controlled vibrator for himself before, and you would bet good money no one in the vanillaest town ever that was Sunderland knew how to spell sex toys. Unless you were playing solo, the app required knowing another person’s username to directly connect to them within a 200-feet radius, and that was all the evidence you needed to conclude that Chris’ frustration levels were through the fucking roof.

So the rumors were true. So that was why he was obsessed with excessively working out every single day.

They weren’t having sex.

You 🧍‍♂️ You own a fucking stroker???? Chris :) [Typing…] I can see you Why don’t u come closer to your bedroom window? You [Typing…] Can I hear you too? Chris [Typing…] What’s the point of letting me play with you if I can’t hear your voice? In that case... Your partner CB69 wants to start a video session.

The excitement was too much to handle all of a sudden. Not only were you going to see him in all his fucking glory, you were also about to make each other feel good. So good that you were sure it was going to be beyond either of your wildest dreams.

But the call screen disappeared before you could take it, and a text followed instead.

Chris Fucking… There’s someone at the door To be continued? Please?

You let out a heavily frustrated sigh as this was the worst case of blue balls you had ever experienced. When you stole a quick glance from his gate, you saw that it was Casey waiting for the door to be opened. You cursed a mouthful and responded.

You You bet

It might not have gone as you pictured it, but that night you still came to the thought of Chris playing with you however the fuck he pleased.

“I did something bad.”

You weren’t looking for Nathalie to condone what you did. You just wanted to get it out of your chest because you weren’t exactly sure you were allowed past the threshold of a church. 

“What did you do?”

“You mean who did I do…”

She tilted her head, indicative of the fact that she knew where this was about to go, and let out somewhat of a scared whine.

“Oh, god, not Chris!”

“Well, technically I didn’t do him,” you darted your eyes to your glass and continued with a smaller voice and at a faster pace, “We sorta sexted the other night.”

“You WHAT?!”

“Look, I’ll listen to your scolding in a second, but he also came by my place some time ago,” when her eyes widened even more you immediately continued, “Nothing happened, I swear. We just talked.”

“And?”

“The man’s in horrible shape, Nat. He seems so unhappy.”

“That’s literally none of your concern.”

You were getting a bit frustrated at the whole let the sleeping Caseys lie attitude of this entire fucking neighborhood. Just what the fuck did this woman have as leverage to scare everyone not to even have a genuine conversation with Chris? Or did she even have anything for that matter? What if it was all a big fat bluff, and nobody was fucking calling it?

“Looks like it ain’t anybody’s concern, either. Aren’t you guys friends with this man?”

Shame. You recognized that expression wherever you saw it.

“I’ll talk to Jisung to make some time for him. Just don’t get yourself in trouble until we know more, okay?”

Well, you could at least try. 

That afternoon, you went to the city center for some shopping and you ended up making a day for yourself, just checking out shops, walking at the park, and having dinner somewhere by yourself. By the time you got home, it was already dark and you were dead tired.

As you were in your room getting changed, you caught a glimpse of the illuminated pool of your neighbor. You recalled the memories of how he frantically swam in it like he was trying to soothe some burn. The way he slicked his wet hair back when he got out, drops of water trickling down his perfectly sculpted body, his bulging arms, his large hands, his thick thighs…

Oh, god.

You felt yourself getting wet at the mere thought of him again. You were never not getting turned on by this guy lately. If only there was a way to manifest him in your room every time you felt that way because—

Chris Hey

Well, that was quick.

Hey. A simple opener. A casual greeting. Literally no meaning behind it.

Yet it immediately fried your brain.

Chris [Typing…] You awake? You I am Chris You looked so pretty today :) You Thank you :) Where did you see me? Chris Passing by my clinic You Oh your clinic is around the square? Chris Yup I’m still there actually You What are you doing there all by yourself at this hour? Chris Currently? [Typing…] Thinking about you I can’t concentrate

A sudden rush of excitement immediately started coursing through your body. It wasn’t an assumption; he was as aroused as you were. You were looking for a quip to hit him back with, but Chris took your one chance of snark away from you.

Chris I want to touch you so bad

There was no other way around it but to just dive into the water headfirst.

You Just touch? Chris [Typing…] Among a lot of things I want to show you how good I can make you feel

Fuuuck this guy entirely!

Your breath hitched in your throat. You climbed on your bed and started replaying all the fantasies you had about him from the top.

You You ever been to the Ritz in Mayweather? Chris For conference only You Their suites are to die for Wanna go sometime? Chris [Typing…]

Waiting for that reply was fucking torture, but you were completely entranced, just looking at your screen with your lips parted as if you were having this conversation with him face to face. Was his heart beating as fast as yours? Was he also imagining all the things he would do to you? Was he thinking about you as often as you were thinking about him? Was he cumming to the thought of you at all?

Chris It would be fucking amazing Just the two of us Spending the entire 24 hours in a room Fucking I wanna drive you insane

In all honesty, who would drive whom insane was up for debate, but it was nice to hear that he was up for the challenge. You couldn’t help biting into your smile.

You I would dress up for you you know Chris You would? [Typing…] What would you wear? You I have a respectable collection of black lace You like bralettes? Chris LOVE them Show me You Not so easy Show me what I’m doing to you first Chris [IMG302.jpeg]

You literally felt your sanity evaporate when you saw how flushed and hard he was. Just how the fuck was he this… fucking… gorgeous?!?!

You FUCK [Typing…] I’m salivating all of a sudden Chris Your turn

You jumped from your bed to change into one of your favorite lingerie combinations. Then you laid on your bed face down with your feet up, snapped a picture in the mirror, and sent it to him.

Chris I hope you’re not attached to those I so wanna rip them off you [Typing…] Talk to me baby

You wondered what it would actually feel like if he said that to you while looking right into your eyes. When he was hovering over your body. When he was touching you. Kissing you. Filling you up over and over again just to fuck his cum deeper into you. 

Talk to me, baby. 

Give it to me, baby. 

I’m yours, baby.

Unbeknownst to yourself, you started stroking yourself over your underwear.

You I want to know what you taste like I want to know what I taste like on your lips But even better I want you to know what you taste like spilling out of me

Chris was definitely playing everything through in his head on the other end of the line. Every time you were waiting for his reply, it felt like some undiscovered part of you was getting filled with excessive amounts of anticipation, and the second you received that text, it morphed into elation and released as complete zeal all over your body.

Chris Fucking Keep going Please [Typing…] I’m so fucking close

Out of complete instinct, you took your top off and sent him a picture of your breasts with your nipples visibly hardened.

You [IMG303.jpeg] I wanna feel you cum on these Chris [Typing…]

He stopped typing. All of a sudden, that little indicator turned into something so unexpected that it immediately skyrocketed your blood pressure, causing your heart to thump in your ears.

Chris [Recording audio…]

He was fucking recording. You weren’t able to mentally prepare yourself for what he was about to send you. It could be fifteen different things. Maybe a song playing in the background. Maybe a sentence. Maybe… Maybe… 

Chris Audio (1:22)

By then, you were so overwhelmed with desire that your hands were shaking when you were about to press play.

There was no way you were the same woman you once were after listening to Chris’ voice, pleasuring himself to the thought of you, moaning, panting, whining, and begging to the ghost of you for his release. The recording hadn’t even finished when you felt a sudden peak in your arousal and came untouched to the sounds of his pleasure.

Chris I’m fucking gone [Typing…] You’re amazing

You bit into your smile, experiencing this kind of an afterglow for the first time ever, and responded to him.

You Good night handsome :) [Typing…] I’ll see you tomorrow at dinner

Who knew, maybe Casey was right. Maybe your soulmate was really right around the corner in the literal sense of the word.

You appeared at your host’s doorstep with Jisung and Nathalie, clueless about what to expect from the night. Chris was the one to greet you by the door, and once he let the Hans in, he turned to you. There seemed to be sparks flying between you two, and once he caught a glimpse of the intricate front straps of your bralette under the oversized shirt you were wearing, it almost short-circuited his brain.

“You– you wore black lace.”

“I told you I would,” you winked and handed him the bottle of wine you brought.

“Welcome to our home! You absolutely shouldn’t have,” Casey snatched the bottle from Chris’ hands and gestured towards the living room, “Come in!”

Your trio seemed to be the last people to arrive although you came in at 8 PM sharp. You sat next to Nathalie while exchanging greetings with the rest of the guests, and Casey started serving dinner.

“So Y/N, we never had a chance to speak. What do you do?” she asked while bringing you a bowl of soup, “Besides seducing the entire neighborhood with those looks, I mean.”

“Casey.”

“I’m kidding, Chrissy! Learn to take a joke, christ,” she pseudo-playfully scoffed at her husband and turned to the table with an exaggerated laugh, “Doctors, am I right?”

Well, no, you’re not.

You looked at her with a faint smile, very much aware of what she was trying to do. What she was trying to make you out to be. You responded with as much composure as the docile women of the table possessed.

“I’m a freelance translator.”

“Freelance translator? Does that pay a lot of money?”

“Casey!”

“What?” she looked at Chris, seemingly not following what he was so scandalized over, “I’m just a little surprised that someone is able to pay a mortgage in Sunderland just by freelancing, that’s all.”

So that was how she played, huh? The lead cheerleader of the team, doing and saying whatever the fuck she pleased and no one else besides her husband even dared to tell her to take it down a notch no matter how uncomfortable she made them.

“When you know five languages, it’s easier than you think,” you replied with your smile getting wider, “Do you speak any languages, Casey?”

But she wasn’t used to this. She wasn’t used to anyone one-upping her in any capacity because god forbid if anyone ever surpassed Casey Bang by the narrowest of margins. There was a collective silent conviction that she would kill everyone in their sleep.

Nevertheless, all she was able to do is to shoot you a blank stare with her lips parted.

“I’ll bring the chicken,” Casey got up to her feet with a defeated smile while you happily munched on the roasted sweet potatoes on your plate. You could swear Chris was a part of Nathalie and Jisung’s silent entertainment bubble watching you throw snark at the prom queen.

Me: 1 — Malibu Barbie-tch: 0

Casey didn’t bother you for the rest of the evening after learning her lesson. Little did she know, these were only basic tutorial sessions and the main lectures were a long way away. As she got engrossed in a very heated debate over this year’s Met Gala looks with her entourage, you silently asked Chris.

“Where’s your restroom?”

“I’ll show you.”

You followed him to the guest bathroom on the second floor. As you were about to go in, Chris stopped you.

“I’m really sorry on her behalf,” he spoke with a genuinely apologetic voice, “She just can’t tolerate any kind of competition.”

“I’m flattered she thinks there’s competition,” you leaned into the doorframe, “but it seems like she can’t tolerate her husband, either.”

That very same caught-off-guard expression as the day in his garage. He looked like he didn’t know what to say.

“It’s– That’s–”

“Trouble in paradise, Chrissy?”

“No, everything’s fine.”

That response was such a knee-jerk reaction that it was obvious he was lying. You took one step towards him and touched his arm.

“How hard did you cum to the thought of me last night?”

He was instantly flushed at your unexpected question.

“I uh– That’s… You– you heard—”

“Not enough. I wanna know what you really sound like,” you took one more step and started talking in whispers, “Not only did I absolutely cum untouched to your voice, I soaked my goddamn mattress listening to you. You’re the sexiest fucking thing, handsome.”

You noticed how he twitched under his pants, and your mouth was watering at his hardening bulge. Your hand started moving by itself as if it had a mind on its own.

“W-what are you doing?”

“Giving you a hand.”

He shuddered at the simple brush of your fingers, and a quiet groan escaped his lips.

“Good god, how long has it been since you’ve been touched?”

“C-Casey’s downstairs.”

“Aren’t you sick and tired of being taken for granted, gorgeous?” you tilted your head and feigned the fakest innocence, “Don’t you wanna be reminded of what a magnificent man you are?”

He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. You were literally taking his breath away, paralyzing him with your mere words.

“Someone’s gonna see us,” he spoke very throatily, acutely aware he was already neck-deep in trouble. Yet it wasn’t fear painting his voice.

This excited him.

“So your concern is getting caught.”

You pulled him inside the bathroom in one swift motion and closed the door behind you.

“It’s not that hard to stop me and put an end to this,” you slowly loosened the button of his jeans and halted your movements, “But you want it too, don’t you?”

You weren’t doing anything else, just standing there right in front of him with two of your hands on each side of the sink, trapping Chris in that confined space. He was a man with spectacular physical stamina, so if he wanted to get out, he could easily do so. Any time he wanted. Scold you. Chastise you. Shun you out of his house and tell you to never speak to him again.

But he didn’t.

“You want me,” you quietly spoke against his neck.

“We shouldn’t,” he gulped trying to get a hold of his sanity, but his eyes were closed, “We really shouldn’t.”

It was obvious Chris was sitting for the ultimate test of willpower, and the way he was miserably failing at it was entertaining the shit out of you.

“You hear that faint sound?” you brushed the back of your index finger against his chest and dragged it down, “It’s the rules whispering to us to ignore them.”

He smelled heavenly. Woody. Oceany. Subtlest hints of musk and spice. He smelled like the refreshing breezes of Kirra Point.

“Tell me to stop and I will,” you placed the smallest kiss on his jawline, “But once I touch you, there’s no turning back.”

He couldn’t do it. He did not possess the physical or mental faculties to opt for what he knew was the logical choice. Chris was burning from head to toe, so much so that you could feel the heat waves emitting from his body washing over you. He had resisted so many things in his life up until that moment, but you… A dangerous enchantress. A fearless seductress. An irresistible temptress.

Everybody had a weak spot, and for Chris, it was you. 

“Let me take care of you,” your hand started sliding past his waistband, getting dangerously close to where he needed you the most, “I promise it’ll feel much better than your stroker.”

And once you palmed him, you could fucking swear you both felt that jolt of electricity jumping from skin to skin.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathily cursed through his teeth as his eyes rolled back. You started stroking him with a very languid rhythm.

“God, you’re so hard,” you rested your head on his shoulder, “Bet it feels incredible to sit on.”

He squeezed his eyes tight. Chris was so turned on that he was about to combust. With every flick of your wrist, his breathing escalated like he was sprinting.

“You want me to sit on you, don’t you?” you faced him again, “You’re wondering what it feels like to actually fuck me.”

That was the moment Chris gave up and completely let go.

“Touch me more,” he pulled you closer from your waist while relaxing against the sink, “Don’t– don’t stop.”

You placed his hand on your chest and let him fondle your breasts. He throbbed under your touch at the contact.

“Would you like to fuck me, handsome?” you spoke softly, “You can, you know. You can fuck your troubles away. Take all your frustration out on me.”

It had been so long. Too long since he felt a speck of lust for someone. Someone he knew in person for that matter rather than nameless strangers fucking on camera for a living. Now there you were, utterly drowning him in the depths of desire, pushing his head down underwater just to see for how long he could hold his breath.

And he was fucking loving it.

“You are so handsome, you know that right?” you filled your lungs with his scent, “You’re just so… so… so sexy.”

You calling him those names was killing him. He couldn’t open his eyes. If he did, one look at your face and he was going to violently erupt. He wanted to relish this stolen feeling for as long as he could. Melt under your touch. Feel himself get out of his own body. Of his reality. Of this burdensome life. 

With you.

“You wanna know what it feels like inside me?” you lightly chuckled, “It feels really warm. Really really wet, too.”

“Faster.”

“And so tight,” you gently squeezed him, “If I clench once, you’ll fucking finish five seconds in.”

“Fucking god, I’m– I’m gonna cum.”

You freed yourself from his grip and shoved his leaking cock down your throat, quietly humming to provide little vibrations for a more brutal orgasm. Chris came so hard that he had to grab the hand towel nearby and scream into it. It was everything he had imagined and more. Savagely thrilling. Scorching hot. Mindnumbingly delicious.

“You taste fucking amazing, handsome,” you wiped your mouth and placed a tiny kiss on the tip of his nose, “Gather your wits. Then come back downstairs.”

You washed your hands and left Chris in the bathroom to collect himself. When you made your way back, you were instantly subjected to Casey’s interrogation.

“There you are! Where did you run off to?”

“I was trying to find where your safe is. You know, to pay my mortgage,” you looked at the rest of the table with a smile, “Can I have some more wine, please?”

Not too long after, Chris also returned to the table, basically floating on air in utter bliss.

“Everything okay, honey?”

“Yeah, um– Work,” he flashed his phone from his back pocket.

You decided to use the moment to give Casey a taste of her own medicine and started bombarding her with questions like a stress interview.

“So, Casey where did you graduate from?”

“Yale.”

“Class of?”

“2010.”

“What did you major in?”

“English. What is up with the interrogation, though, am I right?” she laughed a little nervously.

“No reason,” you took a sip from your wine, “I just think you’re an incredible woman.”

She pressed her hand on her chest with somewhat of a moved look on her face, “Aw, thank you.”

You and Nathalie exchanged a brief knowing look and returned to your fruit parfaits.

“Thank you very much for tonight,” you thanked Casey as they were seeing you off and then spoke directly addressing Chris, “Everything was excellent.”

Several question marks had already formed in your head about Casey and that night was just the salt and pepper on top of everything. It was pretty late already, but this couldn’t wait. The second you got back home, you grabbed your phone and called Minho.

“What do you want?”

“What’s up fuckface? I missed you too,” you exchanged your usual greeting with him.

“This better be important. Shh, shh, it’s okay, baby, I can still keep fucking you.”

“Minho, am I legit interrupting a dicking down session right now?”

“If you don’t start talking, I’m hanging up. Oh, fuck yeah, just like that.”

“Ugh, fine. I need intel,” you managed to suppress your nausea, “Get me everything you can about all the Caseys who graduated from Yale in 2010.”

“There are twenty-three variants to that name. Text me the correct spelling. That’s it, baby, take it.”

“Oh my god, fine, just don’t cum when I’m on the phone!”

“As if you haven’t done that before. Fuck, don’t stop!”

“Don’t be gross. Get back to me as soon as you can.”

“OH, GOD, YES!!!”

You threw your phone on the coffee table and yourself on the couch, watching the ceiling for some time while replaying the entire night in your head.

You’re hiding something, Malibu Barbie, and I will find out what it is.

«TO BE CONTINUED»

AUTHOR'S NOTE

🍮Like my content? Consider supporting my work with a pudding!

Meet the horniest Chris I've created to date. You're welcome. Sound ref: moon xx (several sources retrieved and compiled from creator's public content)

If you enjoyed this story, feel free to share your thoughts with me in reblogs, tags, or in my inbox. As long as you're kind, that is.

-R. (CB97%)

📢Regarding tagging: Please do not ask me to tag you if you won't be meaningfully engaging with my work. Additionally, I do not tag ageless and/or blank blogs, nor can I tag you if your blog is listed as "invisible" / if you've changed your URL and didn't let me know. Thank you for your cooperation in advance!

🔖Story taglist: @gabbunnyy ; @arashihiss ; @ayoitschannie ; @lalal-99

📌Permanent taglist: @sai-kida134 ; @straywrds ; @hwan-g ; @svintsandghosts ; @skz317cb97 ; @abiaswreck ; @changbinluvr ; @lotus-dly ; @imsuchasimp00 ; @downforseochangbin ; @nabis-dreamscape-world ; @oiphoebe ; @chansynie ; @staytheword : @venustired ; @yoongihan ; @hyunskizz ; @sikebishes ; @changbinheart ; @downbadreading ; @bxffietheblxxdy ; @j-0ne25 ; @binstitsweat ; @skizzel-reblogs ; @reallyloudstarlight ; @lifeinakpopbubble ; @shincode ; @djeniryuu ; @squishylee612 ; @hgema ; @gold-dragon-slayer ; @babebatter ; @ladylexis ; @dwaekkiluver ; @quokka95scum ; @guiltycoco ; @sunnyseungup ; @blu-kyl ; @8makes1scream ; @midsoulz ; @aquavv02 ; @exquisite-fics-rec ; @leebitsimpracha ; @rairacha

---

HOLD ON TIGHT — (18+!)

“And stop calling me by that nickname,” you add then, trying to forget about the sound of his voice pronouncing those four letters.

“Why is that? It fits you, you’re the prettiest person at the whole convention, if you ask me, doll.”

🎮 SYNOPSIS: You can't believe your eyes when you spot your rival at the video game convention that you have been looking forward to for months. You want to be furious, really, but what happens when he's suddenly totally kind and a little too flirty with you, after he realises the both of you are unintentionally attending the event in matching cosplays?

🍭 CONTENT INFO: felix x afab reader, enemies to lovers, rival felix, best friend hyunjin, smut/a little fluff, they are all gamers and nerds lol

👾 CONTENT WARNING: reader is cosplaying in a dress and wearing makeup, jealousy (reader), topics of unrequited feelings (not between felix and reader), smut tags under the cut

🔮 WORD COUNT: 8.5K

💜 SMUT: semi-public sex (bathroom), slight dom/sub dynamics, breast play, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, choking, praise kink, voice kink, name calling (doll, darling, baby, good girl, good boy)

“Hyunjin, pay fucking attention.”

You’ve had it today. Usually, you try to stay calm during games but your best friend has been harassing your last nerve for the past thirty minutes. The fight at work some hours ago adds to your tense aura, technically close to snapping by now.

“Chill, dude.”

His voice is quiet but sincere, traveling to you from across the room. Although you teamed up in an online match, it is nothing unusual for the both of you to meet up on Friday evenings, celebrating another end of a hard week of work with your favourite games, some delivery food and beer.

Since your job has been even more exhausting than your best friend is behaving right now, he allowed you to choose today’s dinner—pizza from your favourite place down the street.

“Watch out, it’s five_star_m1chelin at it again,” Hyunjin adds to the conversation, for once giving you a useful hint.

You’ve been thrown into games with this user tons of times before, it’s getting ridiculous. Sometimes he’s part of your team, sometimes he starrs in the rival group—just however AI decides to place him. Perhaps, he’s one of the few who has a similarly high elo rating in comparision to Hyunjin and you but nonetheless he annoys the shit out of you constantly.

Unfortunately, this has to happen on top of all bad things occurring to you this week—your boss yelling at you for something that your clumsy colleague did wrong, your heater acting up and making you sit here under four blankets in April since temperatures decided to drop down to five degrees again and Hyunjin going on a date with a cute girl he met in an art gallery. Yes. You may have a tiny little crush on your longtime friend but you have gained level platinum in hiding your feelings for him.

And additionally to that big lump of shit making your everyday life harder, user five_star_m1chelin is occupying your free time now with his stupid comments. The words stay written, until one of the other mates of your team decides to switch to voice chat—including the opponent group.

There is one tiny problem about it.

You feel pathetic even admitting it.

But apart from his absolutely disastrous behaviour and persistence in winning—even if it meant he had to betray his own grandmother—your rival’s voice has an addicting charm to it. You could listen to it twenty four hours, seven days a week. If it wasn’t filled with so much bullshit.

You have no idea what he looks like, most times of the day you don’t even care about it—but the deepness in the words spilling from his lips make your head spin around in circles.

“You good, bro?” Hyunjin asks when he notices you zoning out, after he makes sure to hit the mute button.

“Y-Yeah. Sure. Just the usual.”

“They are annoying, I know. Do you wanna play something else?”

What Hyunjin can’t achieve voice-wise, he makes up with so many other factors—his plump lips basically draw your eyes on them, his bleached messy hair makes you want to tousle the peach-coloured strands, his pretty elegant fingers create unholy scenes inside your head–

“Earth to Y/N.”

His words are followed by a snapping sound, his middle finger colliding with the palm of his hand.

“No,” you start, needing another second to reminisce what Hyunjin asked mere moments ago until the information floods into your mind again.

“Let’s play one last round.”

Hyunjin chuckles and you hate him for that. You do. For two main reasons—you are in a bad mood right now and everyone experiencing opposite feelings automatically turn into your enemy thanks to your hot-headed nature and, apart from that, it reminds you of how adorable you find your best friend all over again.

“Ah, yeah. The famous promise that no gamer has ever kept.”

You don’t even pay attention to your best friend’s words anymore. Your head is a mess. Threatened by all the overwhelming thoughts running speed marathons in there. Nice. What was supposed to be a fun, chill Friday night turned into another episode of stress.

But today the one last round quote actually becomes true, when your rival’s comment turns into your final straw that makes the tower of annoyance crash down into a million tiny pieces.

five_star_m1chelin: why does this game always let us play against a bunch of noobs lmao

The audacity this guy has is unbelievable. Fucking unbelievable.

“For fuck’s sake, I’ve had enough,” you say immeditaly before the screen darkens, only enlightening eight letters in a bright purple reading GAME OVER.

“Y/N, calm down. It’s just a game.”

Hwang Hyunjin, you better shut your mouth or the rest of the pizza will be flying into your beautiful doll face.

You, somehow, manage to regain sanity once you take a deep breath and turn off the computer in front of you. A large sip from your beer, as you empty the bottle, eases your mind further.

“Y/N, listen,” your best friend starts again. “I know it’s been some rough days for you. Let’s just take it easy and make the best out of this weekend, okay? You have been looking forward to the video game convention for months now.”

Yeah, until Hyunjin decided to invite his new flame from the art gallery date and include her in your longtime planned schedule.

This saturday was supposed to be filled with bestie-time—overpriced, greasy fast-food, sneaking in liquor in your bra, dressing up in matching costumes and getting as many free goodies as possible, all whilst test-playing the new DLCs and versions of your favourite games.

Hyunjin has noticed that your mood has shifted to something else—where once was anger, there is a shade of disappointment and sadness decorating your face now.

“Hey, angel, why don’t you show me your costume, hm? Did you manage to make the last adjustment?”

A smile welcomes your mimics now, especially when Hyunjin gets up from his assigned seat and takes a few steps towards you. His hand finds your own, fingers entangled with each other, as he helps you get up.

“Yeah, I did. I can show you.”

He softly nods, while his body disconnects with yours again when you walk towards your wardrobe. You get hit with a wide selection of clothes—all unorganised. Skimming through the different fabrics, your fingers catch the material they have been searching for—a dark, deep purple dress, shimmering even in the dim shade of your fairy lights that are shrouding your room in a warm colour.

The dress feels both so soft on the inside and a little scratchy on the outside, thanks to the billion particles of glitter attached to it. Hyunjin’s eyes widen, once you pull the costume out and carefully lay it on your bed so it doesn’t get creased.

“Woah, the colours are astonishing,” Hyunjin whispers as he takes in the full glance of the dress.

“Should I put it on?” You ask then, finding his gaze.

He nods, hastily, eager to see what it looks like, before he rushes towards the door, “Just tell me when you’re done.”

Oh, you get the hint now. But it feels very weird making Hyunjin leave your bedroom when the both of you have seen each other in swimsuits plenty of times. There’s no difference to underwear, right?

“Don’t play dumb. I’ll be quick. Besides that, I need someone to tie the strings at the back, I can’t reach them.”

Your best friend nods, before he turns around on his feet again but decides at the last minute to direct his head in another direction—out of respect.

Little has he realised that, now in front of the wardrobe, he can see your reflection very clearly thanks to the large mirror. But luckily, you’re standing the other way around, so he only has to withstand the picture of your bare back and your bottom covered in your panties, granting him a good view.

Fuck. Hyunjin would be lying if he said he wasn’t attracted to you, physically. But, unfortunately, that’s all there is for him. You’re his best friend and he wants the connection to stay this way—sadly, his emotional desire for you isn’t strong enough for something serious to happen and according to the suspicions your shared friend Minho has (that you may have a little crush on the tall, peach-haired guy) makes him feel uncomfortably awful.

The more he thinks about it, the more he is drifting off in his own thoughts, regretting having invited Eunji to your long awaited convention weekend. He wasn’t really aware of it, not really taking it seriously and he hopes it’s not as deep as Minho makes it seem.

But all his doubts, all those contemplations vanish away when you turn around and he copies your motion. The glitter fills his whole vision and Hyunjin is at a total loss for words—the fact you’re cosplaying one of his favourite characters out of the game you have been playing for years makes this even better.

“You look… unbelievable.”

A smile finds your face, as you thank him for the compliment. You try everything to not let his words get to your head. Especially when you catch a glimpse of your own figure in the mirror, realising you really look as beautiful as ever.

Hyunjin’s eyes stay glued on yours, until a vibrating sound echoes from across the room. Your best friend walks towards where his phone is located, catching it between his fingers as his view lingers on the bright screen.

Your heart breaks a little when you grasp that the smile that’s on his face now seems so much realer. Fuller. More meaningful.

“It’s just Eunji asking where and when to meet tomorrow but I will just pick her up and we can collect you at the subway station. Is that alright?”

Perfect. Fucking perfect.

“Sure,” you exhale, taking a few steps towards your wardrobe again.

Once you’re out of Hyunjin’s sight—his whole face attached to his display—you get changed again, hovering the thin fabric over your head but struggling at the task of untying the strings at the back.

“Do you need help?” Hyunjin offers when he hears your grunts, turning around in the process.

“No, I don’t. I can do this myself.”

Your words leave your mouth harsher than intended and necessary. A well deserved scoff hits you next, followed by your best friend mumbling, “Jesus Christ, you’re extraordinarily bitchy today.”

This time you don’t answer.

“You should get going, Hyun.”

He gets the hint this time. Although, not completely. He simply believes it’s the piled up stress taking over your last nerve as he doesn’t realise what big role he plays in this chaos—unintentionally.

So, he walks towards the door of your room, softly laying his hands on your half-naked back, untying the strings in one swift motion and you let him.

“See you tomorrow afternoon,” he says, while his palm collides with the door knob. “Sleep well.”

A few minutes pass by, as you clean up the space in your bedroom—getting rid of the empty beer bottles and paper boxes. You have toned down the intensity of your fairy lights by a few levels, before you rush to the bathroom to begin with your nighttime routine.

Once you’re back in your usual habitat—in front of your computer—with a nice, hot cup of herbal tea, your eyes witness an unread private message from a few minutes ago.

When you take in the letters of the username that sent it to you on Discord, your eyes widen.

No way.

You gasp. Then you scoff.

And then you reread the text once more.

five_star_m1chelin [23:17]: sorry for the message earlier, this wasn’t supposed to be sent to the group chat

What is his intention behind that? On one hand it’s not that deep—it’s just a game as Hyunjin says—but on the other hand you feel like he owes you way more than this.

So, you decide to reply.

you [23:31]: and this makes it better?

The guy behind the other display really didn’t mean it this way—even though it’s absolutely hard to believe. But, well, as cliché as it sounds for a gamer and young guy working in IT business, his interactions with the opposite sex are rare. He always thinks that teasing gets him somewhere but he leaves out the misunderstandings texting generates in his calculations.

A quick sound tells you he sent another message.

five_star_m1chelin [23:32]: no, no but I still wanted to apologise in general. I can be a bit rude sometimes.

Oddly enough you relate to this a lot—especially on days like these when the glass is half full, waiting to be spilled all over the surface it’s standing on, once another droplet gets connected to the liquid inside.

You hesitate. You don’t really get where this conversation is supposed to get you. But, probably, it’s not even that deep. He just had the decency to apologise for something he did. You should really stop overanalysing every word people use around you. It’s not that deep, you are totally sure.

Until the screen reads ‘incoming voice call’.

For fuck’s sake, what does he want now? This is getting weird.

However, you pick it up without batting an eyelid.

“Hi. It’s me,” the deep voice echoes from your speakers.

“Yeah, no shit,” you reply impulsively.

The guy takes a few seconds, before a shy, almost embarrassed chuckle escapes his lips.

“Ah, yes. I’m already regretting this.”

You roll your eyes at his words.

“So you confess that you just called to annoy me more?”

He snickers once more, this time a little less timid.

“N-No, I wasn’t really thinking if I’m honest–“

“–nothing new.”

He lets out a breath, poking his cheeks from the inside with his tongue but you can’t see him. Fuck, there’s something about you being so direct, not thinking before you speak sometimes that makes him lose his mind.

“I deserved that a lot,” he says.

But you’re not in for a nice chitchat, especially not with him. Although it’s not a secret that you could listen to his voice on repeat, like a new song you are obsessing over, destined to shoot to the top of your most played tracks on Spotify.

“Listen,” you begin again, this time actually trying to sound nice, “I had a rough week and I really need to get some rest. I also have plans with my friend tomorrow and have to get up early.”

“That Jinnie guy?”

Yeah. Your bestie has the cringiest username out there. Jinnie_piscesboy. He created this account when he was thirteen years old, though, so he is excused.

“Yeah, him.”

“I’m Felix, by the way,” the male voice says. For some reason it fits him. You start wondering what he looks like again, until you regain power over your brain and you tell him your own name.

“Y/N…” he repeats with a husky whisper, as if he didn’t mean to say it out loud and forgot to mute his speaker for a second.

Fuck. You’ve never expected a sound so pretty to spill from his lips. The way he repeats the syllables makes your head dizzy. If there is such a thing as being attracted to someone’s voice, you sure are when it comes to him.

“Well then, Y/N,” he speaks again, making you absolutely insane just with a few words. “Sweet dreams.”

Not quite in favour of the last piece of sanity in your body, you fall asleep to the sound of his voice this night, as the deep melody still lingers in your ears.

🎮

As expected, you wake up a little too late but still manage to meet Hyunjin and Eunji at the subway station on time. It’s two o’clock in the afternoon and they are already holding hands, expectantly waiting for you at the platform. Well, Hyunjin at least. Eunji has a very bored expression on her face. Although you can’t lie, she is very pretty. You get why Hyunjin might find her attractive.

“Oh, we brought this for you,” your best friend says, as he pushes the plastic cup of fresh iced coffee into your hand. You don’t question that he decided for a cold drink during these temperatures.

“Thanks,” you say, before your gaze switches towards the girl beside him.

“This is Eunji,” Hyunjin says then, pulling her towards him as he places his big hand on her shoulder and she whimpers a little at the sudden contact.

That’s when the spirals of absolute bullshit start running around in your head. You wonder if he has touched her like this before, if they shared a kiss or if his name spilled from her lips when he was possibly deep inside–

“You good?”

You hastily nod at your friend’s question, as you correct the way your long coat is sticking to your figure. The combination of iced coffee and a costume revealing so much skin underneath that thin jacket isn’t the best idea of the century, you must admit.

“Yeah, sure. Should we go?”

It’s once you’re inside the cramped wagon, that you realise that neither Hyunjin nor Eunji came in a cosplay to the event. Sure, your best friend never agreed on putting on some outfit like you did, but something tells you he didn’t do it because of her.

You saw the look on her face when she took in a glance of your glittery makeup. You’re not judging her, she seems like a decent girl but you’re not entirely neutral here. At least you notice your emotions before they can be set free this time.

It is definitely called luck that you purchased the full-day tickets in advance, when you spot the ridiculously long line of people waiting in front of the venue. Once you're inside, the three of you rush towards the cloakroom, letting the employee stuff away the clothing you don’t need.

And that’s when you notice the look on Eunji’s face—an uncomfortable mixture of surprise and judgement, as if she’s both admiring you for your bold outfit choice but is silently evaluating how her respect for you decreases with every square centimetre of skin that you are showing.

What a pity. You really wanted to like her.

“You okay, darling?”

If she wants to play this game her way, you are happy to adapt.

“Y-Yeah, it’s just… aren’t you cold?”

Translate as you look like a slut.

“Nah, I’m feeling quite hot, if you ask me.”

Hyunjin suppresses a chuckle. You, on the other hand, celebrate the mischievous smirk this situation causes to appear on your glittering face.

“Should we check out a few games?” Your best friend asks once the conversation comes to a stuck.

Eunji nods but you can see it in her eyes that she wants to say more.

You’re soon learning she’s not a girl’s girl. She is not here for support and it’s nothing personal towards you. The way her eyes travel down the form of so many other cosplayers, especially female ones in tight and revealing outfits.

Maybe you’re not doing her justice and creating an opinion too soon, but everything about her makes you uncomfortable.

This is beyond being jealous of her. If you think about it, you don’t really care about Hyunjin dating her anymore.

But what is a real thorn in your flesh is her general behaviour and attitude.

You wonder how Hyunjin picked her up at an art gallery when she has to make stupid comments on everything that crosses her vision. But maybe that’s just another cliché that fits. An hour may have passed by now, but the tension grew so much thicker, you want to cut it with a knife.

Although, the annoyed look on her face and the proud one on Hyunjin’s, whenever someone greets you and asks for a picture—probably adoring the same character of your favourite video game—gives you an intense confidence boost.

“We wanted to check out the merch counter, Eunji is searching for gifts for a few friends,” Hyunjin announces then and you wonder if that’s a hint that they need some time alone.

You don’t feel angry anymore, not even disappointed. It simply leaves you… sad. As if he is betraying you which he technically isn’t.

“Sure, I will get in line for the new DLC then. Whenever you’re ready you can just look for me and save some time this way while I’m waiting for you guys.”

Hyunjin pulls you into a quick but still tight hug, as he whispers, “You’re the best.”

And you want to combust at the furious look Eunji is throwing your way with a thousand tiny splinters. This is some kindergarten bullshit here. It’s getting ridiculous. You may have a small crush on your best friend—although you start doubting it more and more as if the feelings are slowly fading away—but you don’t have a chance with him anyway.

She should notice by now. It’s so incredibly obvious how deep you are in the friendzone, if there was one.

But for once you try to ignore all these thoughts since they aren’t getting you anywhere. You’ve waited for the video game convention for so long, she is not gonna ruin it.

Luckily, the line subsides faster than you expect, probably because the organiser put some logic in it, when they decided to create two of them. You’re getting so hyped up that you have completely forgotten about your two companions, when it’s finally your turn.

A little later you sit down next to the person who has been waiting in the other line, now occupying the computer next to yours, both at the same table, chairs mere centimetres apart.

You admire the look of his face and it sounds ridiculous but it’s as if his beauty is shining through the whole room, enlightening the venue in a warm light. His long blonde strands cling to his neck and the hairstyle reminds you of Hyunjin, although you have to admit it looks a little better on this guy. You take in every particle of his charms and elegance.

Until he opens his mouth to do some smalltalk with you, while the screens are loading.

“Finally, it’s been such a long time since they announced the DLC. I seriously can’t wait for the new version in a few years.”

The odds are so small. So pathetically small.

But out of all people, you are sure it’s five_star_m1chelin sitting next to you now.

You would recognise that voice out of a million others.

“Also, your cosplay is extremely beautiful.”

Yup. It’s his definitely voice. Doing parkour in your silly little head.

“Thank you, Felix.”

He stares at you.

You look back at him.

Until it clicks.

Felix.

Felix.

You dumbass said his name out loud.

“Y/N?”

Of course he recognises your voice in an instant as well. Not surprising.

But, however, what does surprise you is his next sentence.

“Excuse my choice of words but you’re even hotter than I have imagined you.”

There’s a part of you that wants to react in a way that shows him how annoyed of him you are. Until you realise… that his weird type of compliment actually does something to you. It boosts both your mood and confidence. And you’re done judging people on small little aspects.

“Thank you. You too.”

It’s just now that you realise, when taking a closer look at his own costume, that he is cosplaying the character that is being shipped with your own.

Oh, what a coincidence. This all feels as if you’re suddenly part of the video game—unreal and too good to be true. So good, that you almost forget who is sitting next to you here, until one of the organisers tells you your turns are over.

“Do you… maybe wanna grab something to drink together?”

He scratches the back of his neck while proposing his idea, getting all shy for a moment and you almost find him adorable. Almost.

🎮

It’s been a few hours now, the venue gets emptier and emptier with any minute but due to it being Saturday, the convention will at least be going on until midnight and Felix and you still have so much to explore.

By now, you are a team that works well together when it comes to other fans of your favourite video game wanting to take pictures of the couple you’re cosplaying. You could basically get hired for an acting job for the next version they will publish in a few years.

And from time to time even—you are sure it’s not the gin tonic that Felix paid for telling you this—it feels as if he is looking at you a little too long to solely blame it on your marvellous makeup skills…

“Look,” Felix exhales once you enter the next hall of the convention, as he points at a wheel of fortune, shining in all the colours the rainbow has to offer. When you spot the purple part, you realise it’s the exact same shade like your costume.

“Let’s go, we should spin it.”

Unfortunately, you’re never really lucky when it comes to games like this and today isn’t any different. So, Felix’s turn follows after. He positions his finger at the edge of the plastic surface, before pushing once and watching the colours spin at lightning speed. Your eyes follow the motion attentively, until it comes to a halt.

“Oh, we’ve got a first price winner!” The employee squeals, either indicating this hasn’t happened that often yet or she’s simply overdoing her job. In your opinion.

Felix gets handed a stuffed animal in the form of a baby chick. The way too big eyes are basically staring right into your soul but for some reason, you find it absolutely adorable. Almost as adorable as–

Wait, what?

“It’s for you,” Felix says then, dragging you out of your daydreams.

“Oh– thank you.”

He is cute. You can’t deny it anymore. In a way that is so opposite to how he has behaved online it makes you doubt they are the same person.

“No need to thank me, doll.”

He doesn’t look at you when he casually throws the nickname into the conversation. God, that guy has so many facets it makes your head spin all over again. Almost as fast as the fortune wheel when he spun it a few minutes ago. Almost.

Your face heats up so much but you’re sure, if Eunji was here she wouldn’t be able to accuse you of being cold again.

Speaking of the devil, it’s at this second that her and your best friend decide to come around again, showing up after what has been a few hours.

“There you are, Y/N. We have been looking for you,” Hyunjin says, relieved, as he pulls you into a hug. You can bet that Eunji has the same expression on her face again.

“It’s a big venue, isn’t it?”

Hyunjin nods, as he lets go of you, now standing beside his little fling again.

“Oh, sorry,” you speak, realising you haven’t introduced the guy next to you yet.

“This is Felix.”

The blonde men look at each other but you notice that Felix’s face is filled with a little more friendliness. Hyunjin isn’t judging him or anything, it’s rather as if he hasn’t… expected you to go and find someone else which is very weird considering he is here with Eunji and has basically ignored you for half of the day.

“Nice to meet you,” the smaller one says to your best friend, a smile being shooted his way.

It’s as if something in Hyunjin’s head clicks but the Hyunjin that he is, he needs another second to jump to a conclusion.

“You have a voice that… sounds so familiar. Do we know each other?”

Felix chuckles then, squeezing his lower lip between his teeth like on autopilot, before he finds the gaze of the other one again.

“Yes. It’s five_star_m1chelin. Nice to meet you.”

You can practically see a lightbulb shining above Hyunjin’s head now, as he puts two and two together.

“I’m Hyunjin– oh, this is Eunji,” he introduces his girlfriend or whatever then.

She just waves in his direction and you can read it in her expression—she’s impatiently waiting for your best friend to grant all his attention to her again and leave the both of you alone.

But Hyunjin’s mimics have changed a bit, too. You’re done reading too much between the lines, drawing conclusions where there aren’t any but when Felix lays his hand around your hips—which he has already done before, when waiting in line for your drinks—your best friend’s eyes shoot down to the spot where your bodies connect so innocently.

You get aware of it for a second, until Felix pulls you even closer and you almost drop Bbokkari—the plush chick—in the process. But he catches it, giving it back to you before his lips align with your ears, as he whispers, “Be a little more careful, doll.”

You instantly nod, until you realise again that you are still very much in public and very much standing right in front of Hyunjin and Eunji.

“Actually,” Hyunjin suddenly announces, “we were thinking about leaving. We’ve seen everything around here and we’re getting a little tired.”

You nod, once again, a little surprised about the abrupt plan of your friend.

“Sure, I guess… we will stay a little longer,” you say as if it’s a question but, luckily, Felix is on the same page as you.

“Okay, then I will bring Eunji home. I’ll call you, Y/N.”

There’s something in Hyunjin’s face as if he wants to say more but he can’t because the presence of his girlfriend or God knows what is holding him back from it.

Nonetheless, you exchange a hug—a little more rushed than usual—and tell them to stay safe and text once they’re home. You watch them leave the hall until they are out of sight.

“It seems as if you’re a little jealous, doll,” Felix says then, nonchalantly reaching for your hand as if he has done this a thousand times before.

You have learnt by now that the freckled boy is very touchy but you don’t mind at all—even though you usually don’t like it. It just feels so natural with him.

“But not as jealous as he is.”

You decide to ignore the second part of his sentence. It may seem weird and unforeseen, but after today it doesn’t really matter to you anymore. Hyunjin can go and spend as much time with Eunji as he wants—you’re glad to be here with Felix.

He’s actually giving you a good time and he’s listening to you. Felix doesn’t make you feel like a second choice and you would have never expected that the guy that used to get in constant fights with your last nerve would ever make you feel so… safe and wanted.

The last thing you want is Felix to think that there is something going on between you and your best friend. Yes, until twenty four hours ago you were convinced that Hyunjin is the man of your dreams but the more you spend time with Felix, the more those feelings seem to vanish.

Of course it’s a little early to jump to any emotional conclusions.

You may be delusional, but that’s where you draw the line.

However, you can say that Felix brightens up your mood a lot more than Hyunjin has achieved in all these past weeks.

Maybe, and just maybe, you have never had a crush on the latter but just fell in love with the idea of it—driven by familiarity.

Or maybe, and really just maybe, the chemistry between Felix and you is much more intense. You’re like two opposites finding each other, completing each other without being two halves. You may be wired differently—the sunshine boy (that is grumpy online) and the grumpy one (that is—mostly—a sunshine online)—but this only makes the attraction stronger.

But, again. There’s no need to interpret every detail now. What you are sure of is that Felix is making you feel good and that’s a reason enough to be honest with him.

“I am not jealous.”

He chuckles a little. As if he doesn’t believe you but also as if he doesn’t really care. Felix is here with you and the fact you have been spending the whole afternoon and evening with him, is enough he needs to know.

“And stop calling me by that nickname,” you add then, trying to forget about the sound of his deep voice pronouncing those four letters so sensually, you’re embarrassed. After all, you’re still in public and he basically has you wrapped around his fingers with one stupid syllable he has used a few times tonight.

“Why is that? It fits you, you’re the prettiest person at the whole convention, if you ask me.”

God, Felix, stop. You’re close to shattering the world record in developing a crush on someone within a few hours.

Calm the fuck down.

“I have never expected that you are capable of saying nice things from all the things you have said online,” you reply then, somewhat gaining control over both your thoughts and the conversation.

“I only say nice things when I truly mean them.”

Yeah. You have lost said control again.

But there’s no time to think anyway, when Felix grabs his hand and guides you towards another hall, finding something that amuses him.

“Another wheel of fortune,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows in your direction like a child.

“The odds for you winning again are so low,” you challenge him unintentionally. Maybe you are just not neutral regarding your bad luck with games like these.

“Don’t underestimate me, doll.” Felix counters then. He looks at you, pretending to be hurt until the both of you start laughing.

“How about a bet?”

“Sure,” you answer. “What shall we bet?”

Felix acts as if he is contemplating what to say but something in his expression tells you he has already got an idea.

“If I win the first price again, I’m taking you home tonight. How’s that sound?”

Oh, God.

You remember you are still very much in a public place and there is no reason for him to make your face heat up like fire just with a simple, not so innocent proposition.

But why should you play pretend when that’s all you have been craving this whole day?

“I’m all in, pretty.”

You swear you can see him blush at the nickname, his freckles almost hidden behind a pink layer. Almost.

“Good luck,” you say before Felix positions his hand at the wheel again, giving it a little nudge as he watches the colours merge into one another. When the spinning motion comes to a halt, the both of you have your eyes practically glued on it, patiently waiting for the result.

“What a pity,” Felix says when he realises it wasn’t enough. The employee gives him some type of candy as a consolation prize.

“I would have loved to take you home,” he adds.

Felix unwraps the plastic around the lollipop, before he guides it towards your mouth. As if he has flipped a switch on you, your lips part obediently, inviting the sugary treat in. When the flavours hit your tongue, they turn from sour to sweet.

The tension between the both of you grows thicker within half a second. Felix watches the way the candy disappears inside your mouth, until you open it a bit, entangling your tongue around the blue confectionery. He pulls the lollipop out, as it leaves you with a loud ‘plop’.

“What a pity indeed,” you say, licking over your sugar coated lips with your tongue that still has the blueberry taste on it.

Felix tries the candy then, squinting a little when it turns from sweet to sour.

“Hm, I guess those are the rules of the bet.”

His gaze is still fixated on your lips and the thin layer of sweetness on them.

And then the realisation hits you.

It’s not as if anyone is holding the both of you back anyway—you can decide how tonight will end regardless of what you agreed on two minutes ago.

“Well,” you start then, snitching the candy out of his hand, as you place the candy between your lips again. This time it doesn’t taste as sour. You guide your mouth somewhere else—right beside his ear.

As if you could get caught for what you’re about to say.

As if the venue isn’t getting emptier with each second.

As if the both of you have cared for the past hours in case someone sees you shamelessly flirting all in public.

“You simply said, you will take me home if you win,” the words leave you in whispers, although still audible for him.

“You can still take me somewhere else.”

Felix can’t help himself but blinks his eyes repeatedly when your sentence registers in his head. Then, the freckles hide behind a pink curtain again.

“Are you real or are you a dream?”

The little chuckle that follows from him is absolutely cute.

“I mean, there aren’t as many people here anymore. We can probably search for a more quiet place.”

That’s how you find yourself in one of the more spacious bathrooms a few minutes later, after you practically sprinted there and hastily locked the door behind you.

But before you’re able to start with anything, Felix reaches for your hand—as if he is about to make the most romantic gesture but it turns out he is just guiding you towards the bathroom counter this way.

He aligns his lips with your ears, just how you had been doing mere moments ago. His breath lingers on your skin and it feels as if this is already enough for every cell in your body to scream for more.

“A quiet place it is,” he purrs, “just so you know—I want you to be anything but quiet, baby.”

That’s it. With a single sentence—and everything that has happened so far—he makes sure you are one hundred percent ready to be ruined by him.

The next thing you sense are his lips attached to your bare neck, sensually drawing kisses on them, sucking roughly on your skin. You let out a moan then, out of reflex covering your mouth with the palm of your hand.

But Felix has different plans. He carefully pushes your fingers away, while he is meeting your gaze with his own.

“Didn’t I tell you to not be quiet, doll?”

You nod, looking at him like a fawn that has been caught doing something forbidden.

“Words, yeah? Where are you hiding your boldness now?”

“Felix… don’t tease. Please just keep going.”

His eyes darken, playing in harmony with the mischevious smirk that is appearing on his face.

“That’s my good girl.”

Within a second, he hovers his lips all over your jaw, as his hand comes to help—in other words seizing around your throat all so slightly.

It’s ridiculous and you don't know what to blame it on—the gin tonic you had four hours ago that is probably not even working in your system anymore, the wickedness of being in this semi-public cramped space with him, the matching costumes clinging to both your bodies destined to be taken off.

Or a combination of all of the above.

Nevertheless you are sure about one thing: Felix is making you struggle to catch your breath, whenever his hands explore another part of your body—your waist, your hips, your ass, your tits. Unfortunately still all through the fabric of your cosplay.

You’re so deeply hypnotised, totally occupied in the way he is granting your body so much attention with so little effort.

Until a vibrating sound echoes through the room, coming from your back pocket.

At first you ignore it—concentrating on the pretty boy in front of you instead—but the noise repeats itself a few more times and you’re getting worried it’s important.

“Sorry, I’ll be quick.”

“No worries, darling,” Felix says, as he plays with your hair, watching you touch the screen of your phone.

“It was just a quick text from Hyunjin. I’ll turn it off,” you let him know, as you press the button on your device, before storing it in your back pocket again.

“What does he want?”

Felix wouldn’t usually ask such things but the fact you were practically bombarded with texts from your best friend creates an uncomfortable feeling inside his stomach.

Chill, dude, he tells himself. She isn’t your girlfriend or anything, slow the fuck down with your emotions.

“He says they are home and put a weird emphasis on the fact he is staying at her place.”

Felix scoffs. “No offense but that guy is weird.”

You’re getting second guesses now. Not because of Felix but because of the way this situation might appear to him.

So, you have to come clear about something first.

“I don’t want to make the impression that I’m thinking of you as a rebound.”

Felix’s face softens, as he brushes over your cheek with the back of your hand.

“I know that you don’t. Please don’t worry about it.”

You nod, “So, where were we?”

“Take a seat, baby,” he says, as he grabs you by your waist and places you on top of the counter.

And in less than a second he has got you right under his spell again, when he this time aligns his lips with your own.

You can clearly say—apart from being drunk on arousal—that this is the most passionate kiss you have ever received in your life. Truly hypnotising like a hyperfixation on a video game release you have been impatiently waiting for.

Especially, when he carefully—in order not to wreck your cosplay—pull the part of your outfit aside that is covering your breasts. Well, not anymore. Felix’s lips are wrapped around one of the sensitive buds now, the other once pinched between two of his fingers.

But he doesn’t stay in this position for that long—he wants to explore every inch of your body, all of it. So, in a swift but sensual motion he sinks down to his knees, his head on the same level as your lower stomach now.

Felix’s hands are attached to your upper thighs, as his face is wandering upwars again to be squished between your tits for one last time before he slowly creates a path of kisses, going south.

He looks insanely beautiful like this. Perfect, almost. A really pretty boy between your legs, excitedly taking in the view of your body in the costume of his favourite character. This is truly a gamer’s wet dream come true.

“You’re so breathtaking,” he says then, as if he has been reading your mind and decided to turn the compliment towards you.

You could swear his voice is even an octave deeper now—if that’s physically possible—and you’re melting in every sense of the word.

“Fuck,” you cry out, when his hands slide underneath the skirt part of your costume. They brush over your clothed core next, applying soft circling motion at a steady speed that’s making you unintentionally say goodbye to all logical thoughts that are left in your brain.

“You like that, baby?”

You can’t do much more except for letting out a high-pitched moan, nodding to the rhythm of his movements. Felix uses both his hands to let your underwear glide down your thighs then, revealing your glistening cunt that is waiting to be devourt by him.

“You’re such a good girl, you know that?”

He’s not really waiting for an answer this time. He has indeed been waiting too long. Instead of wasting any more second, Felix dives right in, as the tip of his tongue collides with your clit, before he adds a long, sensual stripe to it.

“You taste so good, doll,” he hums, as his saliva mixes together with your precum, making you even wetter than you already are.

“You like my voice, don’t you?” Felix asks and you’re very much surprised he’s only now dropping that question.

“Y-Yeah– a lot,” you chuckle, feeling caught.

“Hm, I’ve noticed, baby.”

His tongue can’t only be considered heavenly when it comes to speaking, he is in fact more than talented when it comes to those unholy circling motions he provides right where you need them the most.

And as if that isn’t already enough—enough stimulation, sensation, satisfaction—he slowly pushes two of his fingers inside your hole, feeling your walls immediately clench around them.

“Good girl, just like that,” he praises when he witnesses your head falling back in pleasure, your hands holding onto the slippery counter for dear life. It doesn’t take you that much longer to fall apart—especially, when he curls his fingers inside you as his tongue keeps flicking over your sensitive bud, driving you over the edge completely.

Felix’s pace decreases then, while he helps you ride out your high and in an instant he is standing on his feet again, capturing your lips with his own. You taste yourself but you don’t mind, particularly once his moans are transferred towards you and that deep growl makes you almost see stars again, untouched.

“If you were mine, I would make you walk around in this costume every day, fuck–“

Felix’s words are straightforward and you adore it, so you waste no time and find the hem of his pants, pulling them down with the underwear in one swift motion, freeing his hardened length.

“I wanna call you a nerd but I was just about to say the same.”

He chuckles and then kisses you one last time, before he spits in his hand and wraps it around his throbbing cock, smearing the saliva all over it. Felix watches you spread your legs for him and he almost cums there and then but manages to hold himself back.

“You ready, doll?”

His eyes find your own again, putting you into another scene of trance.

“Definitely.”

The tip of his cock grazes over your sensitive, almost overstimulated clit. Liquids get mixed together, combined into one, just like your bodies when he finally pushes himself into you. You need a second to adjust to the feeling and Felix pulls out, just to go all in this second time—now bottoming you out so deliciously, you’re afraid you might drool all over the costume.

“Better hold on tight, baby,” he says, as he grabs you by your hips and starts thrusting into you with a slower, steady pace.

And it seems as if he can’t only go deep with his voice.

You decide to position your arms around his neck, pulling him closer from time to time so you can align your lips with his—the kisses mostly consist of teeth and tongue but you don’t mind.

The scene is so wild, so overwhelming in a good way, you’re for sure you will be thinking of this moment for the rest of your life. A shitty weekend doing a one hundred and eighty degree turn and transforming into the best time of your life anyone has ever granted you sexually—and emotionally, considering how well the annoying gamer of the rival team and you seem to get along in real life.

And, God, the way he is filling you up so deliciously, the way he is playing with your tits again and the way his other hand is drawing those addicting circles on your clit—he’s bringing you closer to that sweet relief within seconds if not less.

“Give me another one, baby, you can do it,” Felix orders, as if he is able to read your mind when in reality he simply feels you tightening around his pulsating cock.

You hastily nod, following his command. Your vision gets filled with stars and the sensation rushes through your body, this time even more intense and you cry out his name over and over again.

“Good girl, what an obedient doll you are,” Felix praises you once again, never stopping with pounding into your aching hole, although you notice him getting sloppier.

“I wish you’d let me cum all over the dress but I think that’s not the smartest idea, baby.”

You chuckle, “Hmm. I-I have nothing to change into here.”

“What a pity,” Felix says, picking up his pace as he is now fucking into you so mercilessly, you keep screaming out syllables that sound like his name.

“What a pity indeed,” you exhale.

“You can cum on my tits, though.”

Felix’s eyes roll back and he is questioning yet again if this is reality or just some fantasy that has been playing in his mind so many times before.

“But only if you ask nicely,” you add, when you notice his fucked out face.

“Fuck, you’re s-something e-else, doll,” he stutters, dangerously close to the verge of snapping.

“But please– let me– let me cum all over your tits.”

You’re done torturing him, Felix has earned everything he wishes for.

“Go on, be a good boy, baby.”

At the very last second, he pulls his cock out of you, directs it towards your tits as he leans over. In an impulsive moment, you reach for his length then, replacing his hand with your own, as you stroke him a few more times until he can’t take it no more.

Hot spurts of cum land on your bare skin then, painting your body so beautifully, Felix reminds himself to take a mental note of the view, storing it in his head to relive this sight whenever he feels the need to.

However, once the both of you have remembered how to breathe properly again, Felix helps you clean up as best as possible and gets the both of you dressed again. He places a soft kiss on your cheek, making you heart skip a beat.

You thought you were wired differently and maybe you are but that’s what makes the both of you complete—physically, mentally, spiritually and you can’t wait to learn more about him.

Felix pulls out his phone from his jeans pocket, unlocks it and basically holds it right under your nose.

“What’s this?”

You are a little perplexed, that’s your excuse for the rhetorical question.

“My phone, duh. You can give me your number, if you like. So I can invite you on a date.”

Felix is glad you can’t hear his heart racing as if it's doing a marathon and trying to win the gold medal.

But the anxiety fades away in an instant, when you smile at him.

“A very odd order of dating events but sounds like a great idea.”

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I swear I blame aespa’s song for this, it has been on repeat for the past week for me 💜 thank you for reading. If you enjoyed this story, please consider reblogging it and sharing your thoughts with me—there are no limits, from keyboard smashes to long essays, every kind comment is dearly appreciated and the number one motivation for authors to keep going.

© j-0ne25 2023 | copying, translating or stealing my work is prohibited

---

ꜱᴋᴢ ᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ

warnings : food, break up

---

OH MAN..

the words i have to say, the thoughts, times i had to stop reading to collect myself... oh man. oh fuck. Aspen, my friend i know we were joking and all but that bonus chapter of me kicking San's ass may need to be a thing because what the fuck? a whole ass married man supporting his ex girlfriend? no woman would allow that? i'm sure there may be one but me? oh no buddy. that screams something else to me and that would be enough due to my trauma to want to be done. second san? sir? you better unhand her? like? you lost the right to be mad after you cheated and chose to be a complete an utter dumbass over someone who loved you for someone who is gonna cheat on you now cause karma is a thing buddy and man i would PAY to see that. absolutely. (i swear i will do anything to see that happen) but also Felix? you literal angel. the sweetest angel ever. San can kick rocks and shit.

Part Five - Bitter

🌹 prev 🌹 masterlist 🌹 next (coming soon)

🌹taglist: open! @drhsthl​ @propertyoftoru

🌹 permanent taglist: @svintsandghosts

"To Felix, seeing you like this rather than how you usually present yourself was like being offered two slices of cake made up with the same ingredients, simply decorated differently." "He simply couldn’t pick one over the other."

🌹warnings: borderline cheating mention, embarrassing interactions between friends, alcohol (casual mention, though hinted at as a potential coping mechanism), intimidation as abuse (merits is grabbed), verbal abuse/name calling, general angst, unprocessed rage and unresolved trauma, general anxiety

🌹w/c: 7.5k

🌹a/n: Not only have I returned with an update on Prove Me Wrong (and our beloved Sunshine boy), but wowee I was NOT skimping on the heavier topics/angst this go around. I hope that despite it being not as lighthearted of a chapter, that you still enjoy this update. We’ll return to our regularly scheduled sweetness eventually. Promise.

I also couldn’t help but include bestie Jisung more in this chapter because I’ve lowkey been neglecting this lil rascal. xoxo -Aspen

Lee Felix, twenty-three year old bartender with a smile full of sunshine and a heart made of gold, had carried you to bed last night.

And, as expected, your best friend had not shut up about it all morning.

“I was not drooling!” Your squealed, landing a firm smack to Jisung’s arm - though, despite the force with which you’d struck him, his shoulders still shook with laughter.

“You definitely were,” he managed between gasps, his eyes wrinkled shut as he threw his head back, “I can text Felix right now and ask him if his shoulder was wet?”

“Don’t you dare,” you warned, burying your reddened cheeks in your hands.

Jisung hadn’t stopped teasing you about your unexpected slumber - or the subsequent events - from the moment you’d woken up. You groaned as he continued cackling next to you on the couch, tears welling in his eyes from just how funny he’d found the entire situation.

The humor, however, was lost on you as your skin flushed deeper into a concerning shade of crimson.

“Fine, fine,” Jisung said, still grinning from ear to ear as he waved his hands in front of himself, signaling his temporary surrender, “But you were definitely drooling.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled, rubbing your heated cheeks in an attempt to urge them back into their former, pre-Jisung fueled embarassment shade.

He chuckled again, winking as he stood up to fill a mug of coffee and leaving you alone on the couch - a frustrated pout on your lips. You sighed as you planted your chin atop your palm, elbow on the armrest, and Felix on your mind.

Had he really carried you up to the apartment as Jisung had claimed? You weren’t sure what all was true of his recollection or how much was simply an exaggeration at your expense. You should probably thank Felix, regardless of how you’d gotten into the apartment, after he’d managed to handle your unconsciousness with a gentleness that never once roused you.

Though you were a bit too ashamed at the prospect of the potentially true, humiliating contents of the latter half of your evening.

It wasn’t too terrible, though - at least, from what you remembered before your little catnap, things had gone well for Felix and Ryujin.

There it was, your opening. The way to reach out without being completely awkward. You pulled out your phone, shooting Felix a quick text to ask if he’d heard from her yet. 

As you waited for a response, Jisung returned with a steaming mug of coffee - with an added splash of cream, just as you liked it - holding it out to you carefully with both hands. “Peace offering,” he explained as you took it from him, rolling your eyes as you read the statement on the side.

World’s Okayest Author.

It had been yet another gag gift from Jisung after you’d initially discovered your love for cringey, cheesy statements on ceramic cups.

“You’re lucky I love you, you know that right?” you murmured, raising the slightly-bitter drink to your lips before sipping it slowly.

Jisung beamed, obviously doubting that you’d ever stop loving him at this point, “Yes, I’m so unbelievably lucky my beautiful, smart, clever, best friend who definitely drooled on Felix’s shoulder loves me.”

Coffee got caught in your throat, sending you into a coughing fit as you held the mug out for Jisung to grab. He did quickly, shifting from poking fun to fussing over you in an instant.

“Breathe!” he commanded, his brows shooting up high enough to be obscured by his bangs. He set the mug down on the table in a rush, patting your back as though you were a baby that needed burped.

“Jesus, Ji,” you sputtered, residual throat-clearing interrupting your words as you slammed your fist against your sternum, “Peace offering, my ass.”

“I’m sorry!” he whined, firm taps shifting into gentle circles being rubbed between your shoulders, “It was just right there, I had to!” 

“Had to?” you croaked, swallowing hard to soothe the sudden scratchiness your choking episode has caused.

“C’mon, sweets,” he pleaded, “If I were the butt of these jokes you’d still be laughing.”

You hated just how true, and just how fair his statement was.

With a disapproving shake of your head, you let out a long sigh in lieu of an answer. Jisung simply grinned before singsonging out a satisfied, “I knew it,” placing the mug back into your hands and ignoring the daggers you shot his way.

You shook your head, saved from admitting defeat by the chime of your phone. You picked it up with one hand, the other holding your mug to your lips as you took a long sip and relished in the way it soothed the irritation from your near-suffocation.

Felix☀️: yeah, she messaged me to ask if i’d gotten home alright!

Felix☀️: i told her i did and then we said goodnight. 

Felix☀️: wait…should i have done that? did i mess that up?

You couldn’t help the affectionate laugh that escaped your lips, Felix’s doe-eyed expression of panic materializing so vividly in your mind that you barely even noticed Jisung announcing he’d be right back. 

You shot him a small wave, still smiling as you replied quickly to the messages, hoping to avert the crisis that was a spiraling Lee Felix.

You: Felix, deep breath. It’s fine, goodnight is definitely not dealbreaker.

The three dots appearing and disappearing as the spirited boy second, third, and fourth guessed himself had become something of a signature in your conversations - evoking a certain fondness - completely certain he was chewing his lip and running his hand repeatedly through his fluffy, blonde locks. You: Whatever it is, you can just say it Felix.

The dots disappeared one final time, before waving along for a solid thirty seconds. You felt your shoulders sink as you read his words, feeling every shred of your dignity evacuate your being.

Felix☀️: did you sleep alright?

Felix☀️: sounded like a rough dream for a bit there

Felix☀️: I stuck around until I thought you were settled, but i was pretty worried

Your heart dropped in your chest, a surge of guilt mostly to blame, though gratitude was taking the small remainder of that accountability. You: You didn’t have to do that, Felix.

You: But, thank you. I’m okay, sometimes my subconscious just…hurts.

Explaining these recurring dreams to Felix was harder than you’d have imagined. He was so gentle and soft - radiating joy and peace. You didn’t want to dim his shine, especially not as he basked in the glow of Ryujin contacting him.

Felix☀️: you sure?

Felix☀️: you can talk to me if you want to

Felix☀️: but no pressure!!!

The small smile that seemed to accompany conversations with Felix crept back onto your face, pushing the anxiety over explaining yourself far into the background. His messages were so…him. Prone to rambling, yet thoughtful and well-meaning with every tangent he went off on. If only he knew that you were the one feeling nervous about how you were affecting him this time around.

You: I’m really okay, but…noted, thank you. 

Not even in the furthest recesses of your imagination would you have figured Felix for the intuitive type, his bumbling nature giving off much more of a clueless vibe than one capable of such inferences.

Yet, here you were, so shell-shocked you nearly dropped your phone - and your coffee - before you’d gathered yourself enough to even attempt to formulate a reply.

Felix☀️: does it involve how you feel about love?

Attempt had been the key word in your mental monologue, seeing as your fingers flew across the keys in the most avoidant, juvenile way imaginable.

You: I don’t wanna talk about it.

Less than a second later, Felix had responded. You could picture him staring at his phone, overthinking the fact that he sent a message so personal. Realizing the troubled thoughts he must’ve been having made you feel a bit ashamed of your own terseness.

Felix☀️: that feels like an answer

Felix☀️: but i won’t push, okay?

Felix☀️: just know i AM here for you, if you ever change your mind

The fact that he still managed to be so understanding, so comforting so…Felix about it all, only served to make the way you’d answered him feel even more shameful.

You: Thank you.

It was all you could think of to reply with, setting your phone beside you before leaning your head back against the couch - staring up at the ceiling blankly. You couldn’t stop cursing yourself internally, wishing you’d met Felix’s softness with something a bit less abrasive.

At least he didn’t seem too terribly torn up over it - you seemed to have that covered on your own at this point, anyways.

Right on cue, with true chaotic-best-friend energy, Jisung barged back into the apartment, his face pale as he held a bright-blue flier in his hand. “Ji?” you asked, sitting upright on the couch to search his eyes for anything that could explain his offputting silence.

He stepped forward, blinking rapidly before handing you the innocuous paper, barely managing to whisper, “Honey, I’m so sorry, I completely forgot…”

“What are you talking about, Ji?” you asked, keeping a nervous smile plastered on your face as if it would change whatever he was going on about into something unworthy of his atypical quietness.

You flipped it over, bold black text sending an immediate chill down your spine. 

Bi-Annual Author’s Gala.

You felt your breath catch in your throat as you looked up at Jisung with genuine fear in your eyes, his own expression softening into worry - it was probably best that only one of you were in crisis at a time, and you definitely took precedence when it came to this particular event.

As the name stated, the Bi-Annual Author’s Gala was a party hosted by popular publishers all around the region once every two years - serving both as a social mixer and an award ceremony for authors from all different publishing houses. 

And it was tonight.

This, on its own, wasn’t much cause for concern. You were, in fact, an author and it would be far from your first time in attendance of the Gala. The biggest concern each year was typically finding a dress that suited the occasion in time, or making sure that your makeup wouldn’t photograph poorly should you be given an award.

This year, however, the hurdle you needed to overcome was something you’d never had to face before; attending alone.

You’d attended last year’s event with San.

You’d purchased a plus-one ticket in advance, because you certainly hadn’t predicted San leaving you before the next Gala.

There were going to be two seats saved under your name, and one body to fill them.

“Ji, fuck, you gotta go with me!” you whipped your head up from the flier, ignoring the painful sting that always came along with remembering anything at all about San.

Jisung couldn’t look you in the eye - the surefire tell that he was about to tell you something you really didn’t want to hear.

“Honey, Minho and I are leaving for Jeju in like…two hours, remember?” he spoke in a startlingly soft and serious voice, still unable to meet your eyes, “It’s our first vacation as a couple, I can’t cancel on him…” he chewed his lip, finally sparing you a fleeting moment of eye contact.

You understood, of course, but that didn’t stop your veins from running cold at the prospect of explaining to everyone there why you had two seats, and no plus one. 

Understanding did nothing for the fact that you had less than eight hours to find not only an appropriate dress for such an event, but a date who could also dress accordingly. You must have been wearing your dread in every facet of your being, because Jisung was quick to start spouting suggestions.

“Would your publisher let you skip out? Claim any award on your behalf?”

You shook your head, recalling how she’d reacted when you’d tried to call out of a book signing, let alone an actual award ceremony.

“I highly doubt it, Ji. You know how she is…” you trailed off, your lower lip trembling as you took a shaky inhale.

“Oh! Ask Felix, maybe?” he chirped, tilting his head to the side with the first shadow of a smile he’d worn since reappearing with that cursed, blue paper.

That…wasn’t a terrible idea.

You pulled your phone out, typing and retyping your message until your shaky fingers spared you any typos.

You: Hey, what are you doing tonight?

You wondered if Felix would find amusement in knowing you were nervous on the other end of the phone, just as his through-text stammering tickled your funny bone. Such thoughts were quickly cut short as your heart leapt into your throat.

You finally understood what people meant when they’d complain about how nervous appearing and disappearing typing cues made them.

Felix☀️: was gonna go out for some drinks with ryujin

Felix☀️: why? is everything okay?

You swallowed the lump in your throat, trying to convince yourself that encroaching on his first actual outing with - as he oftentimes called her - the love of his life was acceptable. That your personal emergency outweighed the potential of his happiness.

The thought itself felt like poison, making you nauseated at the fact you’d even considered it. It felt almost as wrong to lie to Felix, but it was for the future of the relationship you’d promised to help him secure. 

You were sure that, should he ever find out the truth, he’d forgive you. Felix was certainly the type to brush something like this off if he knew your heart was in the right place.

You: Yeah, all good. Have fun, be yourself. Tell me all about it later?

You sighed as you tucked your phone back into your pocket, looking up at Jisung’s expectant eyes before shaking your head. His expression fell instantly back into one of guilt and concern. The way his jaw clenched showed you that he was wracking his brain for any other possibility.

You didn’t need him to say a word to know that he was likely out of ideas.

There was no ill will towards Jisung, just as there was none towards Felix. Plans with someone you loved were important to those who still believed in it’s magic, after all. The only bitterness your heart held was towards San, and towards love itself.

None of this would be a problem if you simply had never loved San in the first place.

“Are you gonna be okay?” Jisung asked, reaching out to place a comforting hand on your shoulder. 

Your best attempt at a smile likely appeared more tight-lipped and forced than reassuring, though you did your best to come across as much more composed than you felt.

“Yeah, I’ll survive, Ji,” you nearly whispered, nodding your head before lightheartedly pushing him away, “Now, go pack. I don’t want Minho to blame me if you’re late for your departure, yeah?”

Jisung nodded, giving a half-hearted grin at your attempt to diffuse the tension, “Okay, sweets. Send me outfit photos? I can at least help with that.” 

With that, Jisung leaned forward and pecked the top of your head affectionately, casting a melancholy glance over his shoulder before leaving you alone in the apartment.

All there was to do now was tear apart your closet, put on your makeup, and try not to cry.

You were only confident in the first two.

Time was of the essence, so exhausting your wardrobe was the only option in order to find suitable attire for the Gala. It would be so much easier to head to one of the boutiques uptown, allowing one of the overly helpful employees there to play dress-up-author-Barbie with you.

But you only had two hours, and couldn’t risk being late and alone.

So, you’d spent ten minutes pulling every article of clothing resembling formalwear from the closet, spreading them out on your bed before snapping photos to send to Jisung for approval.

You sat at your vanity, pulling your hair back from your face to apply a thin layer of foundation and a generous layer of bronzer to your cheekbones, a necessary effort to combat the washout due to cameras flashing. A bit of a dusty-rose blush, simple flicked eyeliner, and a shock of red lipstick topped off the entire look.

You had to admit, you looked at least ten times more put together than you felt.

The chiming of your phone brought you to your feet, nearly jumping across the room to check what you had rightfully assumed was Jisung’s verdict.

Dumb Squirrel: honey, are you serious?

Dumb Squirrel: that pretty black dress and you considered other options?

Dumb Squirrel: I taught you better than that???

You rolled your eyes, not quite appreciating his humor as much as you would whilst under such immense levels of stress.

You: Unprovoked???

Dumb Squirrel: Minho wants to see your makeup before he agrees with me.

You snapped a quick photo, trying your best to put on a pleasant expression despite how pointless it felt to waste time with selfies, but you knew better than to argue with Jisung after asking him for advice.

Dumb Squirrel: first of all, i am offended

Dumb Squirrel: you hide this bad bitch in pajamas every time we hangout

Dumb Squrrel: rude

You groaned, brows furrowing as you replied to him quickly. You: Help me now, compliment me later.

Dumb Squirrel: yeesh, grouchy.

Dumb Squirrel: i get it though, so i forgive you

Dumb Squirrel: Minho said, quote, “black dress, match some heels. sleek, sexy and professional”

Dumb Squirrel: he also insists that i apologize because “this isn’t a time to joke” and to inform you he called me an idiot on your behalf

For the first time since your seemingly endless panic, the ghost of a true smile appeared on your face. You had always known there was a reason you approved of Minho outside of Jisung’s happiness. You: Thanks, both of you. Gotta finish up now, message you when I arrive?

Dumb Squirrel: you got it sweets. good luck!

You set your phone down on the vanity, picking up the elegant black number from your bed. It was a simple dress, enough to look dressed up without overdoing it. The sleeves were full length, clinging tightly to your arms despite exposing both of your shoulders. The neckline was modest, resting in a slight curve against your sternum, the skirt floor length - flaring out just enough to flow - with a slit up to your mid thigh. 

After slipping it on and struggling with the zipper alone, your reflection told you that Ji and Minho had been absolutely correct in their recommendation - your resolve only solidifying as you took Minho’s advice about a pair of black pumps. A few pieces of dainty silver jewelry, and an understated black clutch were all that was required to give you an air of poise that - until now - you weren’t sure you were actually capable of.

You’d have no idea this was a last-minute effort if you weren’t, well, you.

Sitting down once more at the vanity, slipping your phone into the clutch, you twirled a piece of hair around your fingertip. You didn’t have the time to do anything fancy, but knew that your unstyled hair would definitely not blend in with the aura of sophistication you’d managed to exude with everything else adorning your body.

The time restriction may have turned out to be a good thing, you thought to yourself. Straightened hair pulled back into a high, tight ponytail tied the whole look together in a way that you were sure Jisung would gush about for weeks after seeing the photos from the event.

Date or not, you looked absolutely fantastic - and you knew it. That confidence exuded from your features, even when you’d simply gaze blankly into the mirror. It was that same overwhelming aura one would get watching perfume commercials; despite how disinterested the actress may appear, your attention was always pulled for at least a moment.

You gave yourself one last glance, spritzing on a light perfume before making your way to the door. You’d had the sense to call a cab in advance, thanking whatever deity may have been watching over you as you spotted it pulling up from halfway down the stairs.

Another quick prayer of gratitude as the interior of the cab didn’t smell horrible, though this was likely due to the extra fee you’d paid to have a nicer, newer model pick you up.

The driver politely greeted you, nodding as you prattled off the address quickly. He seemed to be a man of few words, yet another thing you could only accredit to a guardian angel or impossible luck.

The ride was rather uneventful, save for the occasional bit of traffic at stoplights, and you’d managed to arrive at the venue with five minutes to spare. You snapped a quick photo outside of the venue, sending it to Jisung so he’d know you’d made it safely.

You: Made it to the Gala safe and sound. Now to make it through the evening without needing to explain the lack of date…pray for me. Talk later?

You shut your phone off then, not wanting to risk it going off during any announcements for the awards, slipping it back into your clutch to avoid the temptation to distract yourself with messages or social media. 

Your publicist spotted you from the entrance, waving her arm above her head to draw your attention. You stepped towards her, plastering on your best smile as you greeted her warmly. “Nari, good to see you,” you spoke softly, ghosting your lips above her cheeks rather than actually greeting her properly - the alternative being to stain her makeup red.

“Am I ever glad to see you,” she sighed, audibly relieved as she returned the gesture, “I hadn’t heard from you all day and had honestly begun to worry you’d forgotten.”

“I would never,” you lied, turning your head as your name was called by one of the photographers.

You let the corners of your lips raise as you parted your lips, the look Nari had taught you under the name pleasantly surprised to be photographed. It sounded dumb when she’d first told you about it - though the shots, and how gentle and candid you ended up looking in them, quickly won you over to her side.

“You came alone?” Nari asked quietly, speaking through her teeth behind her own gentle smile. “Mhm,” you hummed softly, turning towards a different photographer to allow them all the shots they wanted. It wasn’t as it would be as an actress or musician - there weren’t really paparazzi to speak of. This was more…documentation for online profiles, potential headshots for book covers, and coverage for the sake of equal representation amongst the arts.

Despite your hopes that Nari would leave the topic alone, it seemed you’d used up your luck reserves for the day.

“Didn’t you book a plus one?” she mumbled haphazardly, trying to keep her expression calm as she wondered how, as your publicist, she’d explain away the empty seat.

“Two years ago, yes,” you reminded her, hoping your discomfort wouldn’t be apparent in any of the photos.

“You couldn’t have canceled?” she asked, sounding more and more urgent despite speaking through a closed jaw.

“Didn’t cross my mind,” you dodged, allowing your face to shift from pleasant to neutral as the photographers gathered around the next author to arrive, “Is it really that big of a deal?”

Nari sighed, pushing her glasses up her nose as she shook her head, “In general, no. As your publicist, yes.”

You frowned, turning your body to face her. You did your best to hide your displeasure - it was embarrassing enough for you without Nari reminding you that she’d have to field questions about your dateless award show from fans of your books.

“Nari, I really don’t see what the problem is, people show up to events without an escort all the –”

You were cut off by a blossoming smile on Nari’s face, visible relief in her eyes as she stared behind you.

“That wasn’t funny, you really had me going,” she scolded, glancing at you only momentarily before allowing her focus to return somewhere behind your shoulder. “Nari, what are you talking about? I meant it when I said I came –” you were cut off by an all too familiar throat clearing behind you.

“-- alone…” you trailed off, the hair on the back of your neck slowly rising as a heavy feeling of dread made itself at home from head to toe - though it seemed to constrict your heart in your chest. “Hey,” a familiar set of sharply angled lips spoke quietly. His jaw - one that you could vaguely recall pressing your lips against once upon a time - clenched awkwardly, the man attached shuffling in place. His sheepish eyes landed upon yours, holding a strong uncertainty that only seemed to increase the contrast with the blatant shock you wore.

You swallowed hard - fight and flight playing the highest-stakes game of chicken you’d ever considered in your mind. 

Both of these options felt like a nightmare. 

Punching him in front of cameras? Tempting, and Jisung would probably ask you to sign a copy - probably even treat you to a fancy and expensive dinner after bailing you out on an assault charge. Though, as far as PR went, it was a horrible decision - having an angry publicist was never a smart choice.

Running off was just as enticing, the desire to head home without looking back - finishing a bottle of wine alone in a pretty dress - sounded absolutely cathartic. Though, Nari would have to explain your sudden disappearance - which also translated to having an angry publicist. You asked the only question you truly felt like you needed answered in that moment, though you couldn't quite recognize your voice's newfound hollowness as your own.

“San, what the fuck are you doing here?”

Lee Felix was not the type to check his phone on a date. If anything, he was the type to leave it in his truck, devoting the entirety of his attention to the person sitting before him. 

That had been his intent this evening - to sit across from Ryujin and finally engage in meaningful conversation. To smile and laugh with her as he filled in the blanks he’d so desperately craved the answer to as he’d crushed from afar. To lose himself in her eyes as she spoke about her passions.

Yet, completely out of character, Felix had forgotten to take his phone out of the pocket of his tight slacks. He, of course, had apologized when it interrupted their small talk, quickly silencing the ringer before returning to his previously enraptured state.

Even further from his typical behaviors, Felix’s curiosity about what awaited him beyond his lockscreen had stuck in his mind. So much, in fact, that he couldn’t stop himself from taking a peek at the screen whilst Ryujin was in the restroom.

Confused only slightly covered Felix’s reaction when he opened your text, swallowing hard to prevent his jaw from dropping at the sight of the photo attached;

#1 Love Hater💔: Made it to the Gala safe and sound. Now to make it through the evening without needing to explain the lack of date…pray for me. Talk later?

He was at least 99 percent certain that he wasn’t the intended recipient, yet everything about your message sparked question after question in his mind. What Gala were you referring to? If he were to glean anything from your attire and more-glamorous-than-usual makeup, it was some sort of formal event. Was this why you’d asked him about his plans for tonight? He felt his stomach lurch with guilt at the thought of you alone at something so…so utterly not like the you he knew. So formal and gaudy. 

Felix had grown accustomed to seeing you dressed comfortably in oversized sweaters, a messy bun or completely unstyled hair framing your barely-made-up face. 

Felix had only ever seen you in casual settings; your apartment, his truck, the food court, and the art studio. You looked beautiful, and Felix could acknowledge and appreciate the effort you’d put into your appearance for whatever this “Gala” was. 

He’d always found your features to be pretty, though, even with your face smooshed against the window of his truck as you slept soundly.

To Felix, seeing you like this rather than how you usually present yourself was like being offered two slices of cake made up with the same ingredients, simply decorated differently. He simply couldn’t pick one over the other.

Ryujin still hadn’t returned, allowing his mind to continue questioning every aspect of the message you’d sent. He could only put so many pieces together on his own, though, and found himself increasingly antsy as he wondered how you were holding up - out of your element, and alone.

He’d shot you a quick text, trying to see how you were doing. He couldn’t help but frown as the checkmark stayed faded, not even registering as delivered. Was your phone dead? If it was, how could you call anyone if you needed something? He quickly scrolled his contacts, finding Jisung and typing out a message before he could even consider other options. Felix: what’s the gala?

Ryujin came back out then, giving Felix a brilliant smile that instantly made him wish he’d never seen your message. He was truly happy to have this time with her, finally getting the chance to become more than the guy who makes her drinks, yet here he was - worrying about you.

“Sorry I took so long, there was a line,” she explained before sliding back into her chair, lifting her wine glass to take a small sip.

“No worries,” Felix assured, his typically shining grin dimmed significantly as he tapped his foot subconsciously beneath the table. 

If Ryujin noticed a change in his behavior, she didn’t let on, launching right back into where she’d left the discussion.

Though once enamored by every word that left her lips, Felix barely registered Ryujin’s recollection of her previous job as a secretary before moving on to her current position as an executive assistant. He felt his phone buzz against his thigh. Felix was doing his best to nod and smile attentively, despite the way his fingertips were twitching with the desire to pull up his phone and get the answers he craved. 

Ryujin finished her story, looking at Felix expectantly as she took another sip of her wine. Shit, did she ask me something?

His palms began to sweat, another buzz against his thigh only serving to worsen the clamminess. He gave his best attempt at a remorseful smile, standing from his seat to give her a slight bow of apology.

“I’m really sorry, I’ll be right back, okay?” His eyes were wide, and it seemed to suddenly register with Ryujin that something was going on with him - that his attention had been elsewhere for the last several minutes. “Oh, yeah,” she said, her kind expression barely faltering as she read the look in his eyes as concern, “Is everything alright?”

“I hope so,” Felix replied with uncertainty, half of his mouth upturning into a crooked smile. Ryujin nodded, seeming to understand fully that this was something important to him - why else would his mood have shifted so suddenly?

Felix bowed again, though this time from gratitude, before hastily walking off in the direction of the outdoor patio. He pulled his phone out so quickly that he’d nearly dropped it, his level of worry causing him to mess up his own lock code not once - but twice.

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): howd you know about the gala?

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): its some fancy writing award thing i think tho?

Felix’s brow furrowed so deeply into his head that there would likely be residual wrinkles for a few minutes after he finally relaxed, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he chewed on the inside of his cheek.

Felix: and she went alone? 🙁 what if she wins?

Felix: accept an award alone? 😭

Felix’s guilt from earlier was on the fast track to evolve into unadulterated shame. He wondered why she’d have kept this from him…sure, he was busy, but her secrecy almost gave him further cause for concern.

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): yeah…i’m on jeju with Minho rn

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): she said you were busy but if you arent?

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): she’d appreciate someone there, i think

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): at least to save her from her publicist’s wrath

Felix sighed hard enough that it could’ve easily been mistaken as a frustrated groan. He was far from being irritated though - uneasy due to his lack of understanding, maybe, but not frustrated.

Felix: why would her publicist hound her?

Felix: was she not supposed to be alone?

Felix’s confusion only grew stronger, every answer to his questions revealing at least two more things he didn’t understand. 

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): its not really my place

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): all i can say comfortably is that she’d planned on a plus one

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): and some shit happened

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): emphasis on shit

Felix’s heart sank. On one hand, you hadn’t shared this information with him yourself. If he acted on it, would you be upset with him for prying? Upset with Jisung for sharing? On the other, from what he gathered, tonight might be painful for you - especially if you’d planned on someone special being by your side for it.

Felix: you really think she’d want me there?

Felix decided to double check, despite Jisung’s earlier statement that you’d likely appreciate a friendly face. If anyone would be able to predict your reactions closest to complete accuracy, it would be your best friend.

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): i know she would.

That’s when Felix made arguably the toughest decision of his adult life, stuffing his phone back into his pocket as he reapproached the table - Ryujin’s momentary happiness fading as she recognized the look on his face.

“What’s up?” she asked, trying to remain casual despite the sudden intensity in Felix’s gaze.

“Please forgive me,” he started, though his voice sounded much more resolute than a plea for forgiveness should, “There’s an emergency with one of my friends, I really have to go.”

Ryujin blinked a few times, nodding her head before giving him a sweet smile - disappointment barely visible as she responded calmly, “I understand completely.”

“Rain check?” Felix asked hopefully, pulling his blazer from the back of his chair with a raised brow before slinging it over his arms.

“Of course,” she replied softly, watching as he tossed enough cash for their meal and tips onto the table before handing her a few bills to pay cab fare to get her home.

She blinked at the money in her hand before looking back up at him, her brows creased together. Sure, she hadn’t known Felix long…but his entire demeanor looked different somehow. Gone was the awkward, shy, fumbling man she’d arrived with - in his place stood a man completely sure of himself, confident in his choice to cut their date short in the name of a friend in need.

As she watched Felix race back to his truck, turning the keys in the ignition before he’d even buckled his seatbelt, Ryujin wasn’t quite sure if she was more puzzled or besotted by this brand new side of Lee Felix.

As you stood face to face with San you became certain of two things.

Firstly, he was exactly the same. From the way he parted his hair, to the slight lean to the right in his posture, San had not changed - even a tiny bit. No sign of new fine lines or wrinkles. No difference in the offhanded way he’d addressed you. The only difference, in fact, was a glittering gold band on his left ring finger.

That had led you to your second revelation; any love you had for him was - in fact - gone. The tentative smile he offered you that used effortlessly placate even your largest irritations only served to give you an uncomfortable case of the goosebumps, chilling you to the very core. The way he tilted his head, once something you’d found precious now only infuriated you. 

How dare he look at you so calmly after what he’d done? How dare he show up at an event that wasn’t even for him in the first place? How dare he show up with the audacity to escort you wearing a wedding ring after breaking off your engagement to marry the woman who’d likely slid that onto his finger?

How dare he do this in front of your publicist, who now wore a relieved and excited grin on her face at the notion of having the seat next to you filled.

How dare he waltz up to you with absolutely no warning, uttering a casual hey as if you were somehow friends? 

How fucking dare he?

Your teeth were clenched following your less-than-amicable question, jaw set in a tensed position as you crossed your arms against your chest.

“Don’t act this way,” he started, his brows knitting together before he pursed his lips.

“I said what the fuck are you doing here?” you hissed, eyes widened with a rage that, until just now, you believed had been abandoned in favor of grief.

“I –” he cut himself off, leaning his head back and closing his eyes as he took a sharp breath in through his nose - the telltale flaring of his nostrils showing just how hard he was working to keep himself gentle, “I was supposed to be your plus one. I’m not so shitty that I’d let you sit alone at the Gala.”

“I beg to differ,” you deadpanned, “You’re exactly that shitty, and nothing would make me happier than if you’d never shown up here.”

San’s jaw clenched as he took in your quiet anger. He’d experienced different sides of you before, but this was new. 

You’d had jealous anger before, resulting in tears and long monologues of your insecurities - coating everything you did like a cold drizzle, sinking you into yourself as you’d seek warmth in any way possible.

You’d had explosive anger, too. Raising your voice and refusing to listen to reason, certain that exactly what you believed to be happening was strictly fact - down to every last detail. Like an earthquake, threatening destruction on anything not secured tightly in place.

Now, though? Your face was blank, save for the slightly widened state of your eyes and the hard line your lips had formed. Your words were clear and concise, as if you had been waiting to say these very words to him for your entire life. You sounded sure. You sounded calm.

You were the eye of a hurricane, a single spot of calm amidst the raging sea. Moving in any direction too quickly could plunge him into the chaotic, swirling depths.

“Unfortunately,” you continued on, not once shifting your steely gaze away from his, “It seems that in order to be rid of you, I’d need to do something my publisher will absolutely disapprove of.”

San swallowed hard, “I didn’t come here with the intention to upset you –” his eyes bulged as you laughed - as though his attempt at reassurance was actually the funniest thing you’d ever heard in your life.

“That’s fucking rich, Choi San, considering you’re planning to walk at my side as though you’ve done nothing wrong,” you took a step closer, despite how sick the proximity made you feel, just to ensure that no prying eyes or gossip-hungry ears could pick up on a thing you said.

“You want to come here, to an award ceremony for my profession, wearing the ring given to you by the woman you swore to me I didn’t need to worry about?” you scoffed under your breath, every bit of your body language screaming discomfort and volatility.

You whispered the last sentence, the audacity he had to appear shocked, requiring you to push back against the urge to spit in his face, “But, I guess since you didn’t come here to upset me, it’s all fine I suppose.” 

If it hadn’t been for Nari, you’d have definitely caused a bigger scene. 

If you didn’t know for a fact that she’d have several choice words, if not threats on your career should you turn San away, you’d have simply called him a cab and told him to get fucking lost.

You had to be escorted by the man who ruined your entire concept of love for the night. There was no other option. You suddenly found yourself wishing you’d simply not been reminded by Jisung about the event earlier, simply missing it and facing Nari’s wrath.

That was better than forcing yourself to pretend to be fine next to San.

If you had to be escorted by the largest reminder of your heartache, you refused to do it with an agreeable demeanor - so you turned away from him suddenly, making a beeline for the outdoor bar, hoping to get a couple of drinks to coax you into spending the evening next to the devil. 

You’d expected him to perhaps follow you, at least having the decency to be as close to invisible as he could be in the seat next to you for the evening.

You’d expected him to let you get a drink, maybe to even understand why you wanted to dull your senses around him.

What you hadn’t expected was his sudden, tight grip around your wrist - stopping you in your tracks.

“I showed up for you,” he whispered with accentuated sibilance, a noise more closely associated with a feral cat than a man. His grip tightened on your wrist as his eyes grew wide, “I left my wife home to escort you at this stupid fucking gala,” he spat that bit bitterly, his nose wrinkling with anger, “that I’ve never actually liked attending, just so you don’t feel fucking embarassed, all alone.” San’s voice had morphed into one filled with venom, it’s sole intent to mock you and make you feel small.

“I didn’t fucking ask you to,” you hissed back, ignoring the stinging in your eyes at his words. You didn’t love him anymore, this was true. You didn’t care about his opinion, and that was true, too. 

It was also true that he knew you well enough to know exactly where to prod, exactly how to hurt you.

You barely noticed whispers of a few passerby as the two of you exchanged your hushed, turbulent stabs.

You barely noticed the familiar sound of an engine thrumming beneath the hood of a red pickup truck.

His grip grew tighter, making you wince slightly, “You’re so fucking ungrateful,” San continued, running his free hand through his hair - as he’d always done when he’d grown frustrated with you - before shooting his darkened eyes back towards you, “All you’ve ever done is complain about everything I do for you, no matter how fucking much I hated doing it.”

“I didn’t want you here,” you insisted, trying with futility to pull your wrist from the constraint of his fist, “This isn’t for me,” you swallowed the thickness growing in your throat, ignoring the way your voice quivered as you spoke - determined not to break where he could see you, “If this were for me, you’d be gone. In fact, you’d never have shown up here in the first place, San.”

San grew red in the face as he pulled you closer by your wrist, hissing whatever the opposite of sweet nothings were directly into your face, “You stupid, selfish, spoiled little –” he suddenly stopped, his gaze focusing behind you reminding you eerily of the way Nari had spotted him before.

The smell of a summer’s rain and wildflowers flooded your senses, prefacing a warm hand resting against your bare shoulder. 

San’s jaw clenched as he glanced at the hand, his eyes slowly making their way up to the face attached.

It was then that a familiar, comforting bass voice met your ears - soothing you despite the intimidating closeness San maintained with you. 

You turned your head to confirm your suspicions, relief overpowering the bewilderment you felt seeing the last person you’d expected to show up this evening.

“So sorry I’m late,” he whispered just loud enough for San to hear as well, stepping close enough that he hovered directly over your back.

Felix.

“I’d appreciate if you’d unhand my date." He nearly growled, the look on his face completely foreign to the gentle, fluffy haired boy you'd grown so accustomed to. "Now.”

---