#but at night i look at him beside me and go. why do we need to jump through so many hoops to secure more years of this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

biteyoubiteme · 3 days ago

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Ii izzy ive been waiiitttiinnnggg and waaannntttiinngg to read this for so long and last night i was just hit with the need to read it lol so im excited to finally jump in ><

He wasn’t sure how he would explain his smile if he weren’t. He must have looked stupid smiling like a ray of sunshine just because his best friend was calling. STOP I CAN SEE HIS CUTE FACE RN IN MY MIND IM SO UNWELL-

“Chat, this is him just saying he wants to play doors. Again,” Beomgyu scoffed. “Fine, we can play but if you die at the beginning again I swear I will drive to your apartment and choke you to death.” Warning received,” Soobin snorts. “Let’s finally get through level 100, it’s embarrassing at this point.” Beomgyu couldn’t argue with that. It wasn’t the first roblox stream they did together and somehow, they always ended up playing at least a few rounds of the game but never made it past level 80. Either Soobin died too soon by the stupidest death possible, or he lost the run at level fifty. Either way, Beomgyu always ended up alive alone, with little to no chances. The way i would pay good money to see soogyu play doors is unreal, iwould be there every night on their streams watching them and giggling so much over them getting jump scared lmao-

You’re right here, making him feel like the luckiest boy on the planet but at the same time, you’re as far as you can be. UUUUUGGGGHHHHHH

Beomgyu gasps dramatically, making him laugh. “And also, we divorced the moment you decided to move out and live with your side chick and arch nemesis.” LMAO i love beomgyu

“Come here,” you shake your head, making your best friend look up. Soobin blinks a few times but listens, closing the distance between you. You undo his tie, causing his eyes to widen. You don’t say anything, simply redoing it to make it look better. It’s been his thing, wearing button-ups with a tie every day and making it look casual but somehow, he still managed to mess up. It was kind of cute, honestly. “There,” you smile, taking a step back to take a proper look. Stop why does this kinda give perks of being a wallflower and why do i love it so much, i could see soobin doing this and i can see how cute he would be stumbling to tie his tie and like how hap hazard it is in the mornings hes running late pls ><

Home by Edward Sharpe and The Magnetic Zeros STOP THIS IS SUCH A GOOD SONG STOOOOPPP

you realized you always looked for a piece of your best friend in the guys you dated. Ill cry stop it i love them-

You settle on the top of the slide, your legs tangled together as you try to fit into the small space for kids. All the food is placed between you, and the only sounds filling Soobin’s ears are your giggles as you play with your food and tease him endlessly. He takes out his phone and you grin, posing with your milkshake. He laughs as well, putting the phone down beside him as he takes a handful of fries. This is so cute i cannot

You mean like the fact you practically asked Taehyun to marry you the first time I introduced you?” He teases and your eyes widen as you slap his hand. “Come on! Don’t go revealing my secrets like it’s nothing! Plus, we were eleven and unlike your other friends, he was the only one treating me like a lady instead of your little punching bag!” You complain. Definitely not my fault Yeonjun and Beomgyu were immature little shits,” he laughs. “Yeah, well, they still are,” you huff even though you know it’s far from that. Yeonjun has turned into a gentleman who helps old people carry things when he sees them struggling without a second of hesitation, and Beomgyu has been nothing but respectful to every woman he’s met since you slapped him for making an inappropriate joke back when you were fourteen. STOP THE FRIENDSHIP THIS IS SO HEARTWARMING-

“Who has a boyfriend?” He asks confusedly and when the Korean reaches Ryan’s ears, he switches as well. “It’s just–” he sighs again. “My date from last night. I found out good twenty minutes into the date because guess what, he was the fucking cook in the restaurant and I was just there to make him jealous.” wait the drama im on the edge of my seat this is why we have roomates to get the tea from them at the best of times

You say that because apparently I’m the only one with eyes. Do you genuinely not see the way he looks at you?” You stop midstep, hitting Ryan with your bag on accident as you turn to face him, blinking confusedly. “What?” He sighs, pushing the door open and taking a step inside when you don’t move. “Just focus on his eyes at dinner,” he says, walking off before you can ask anything else. Ugh id cry to think about soobin looking at me like a love sick puppy and everyone else knows but me- a girl can dream-

And then, before you can stop it, you think about how it’d be like if you did date Soobin. Your gaming leveled up with cuddles, kisses and confessions added to the mornings spent together, dates that leave people feeling jealous because of how great he is to you, the sleepless nights full of need replaced with his comfort, his fingers making you finish faster than your own– no this is too much im much too weak for this- also the way i gasped at the last line lmao

“I’m sorry. Forget about it, really. I’m so, so, so sorry.” A part of you breaks when you see him like this, looking like he convinced himself thinking about you in that sense was wrong, that he wasn’t allowed to. It hurts you to see someone so important to you blame himself for something he doesn’t need to because of you. STOP I LOVE HIM HE IS SO CUTE-

“In that case, I think I’ve been in love with you since we were twelve.” AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHHHAHHHHHHHH

You hold his hands carefully, searching for any sight of discomfort before you bring his hands to your waist, leaving them there. The emotion behind his eyes switches immediately, now way more calm and soft. “Good morning,” he greets you, squeezing your waist lightly to make sure it’s real. I NEED HIM IN MY LIFE ALL SHY

“Can you say it again?” Your smile widens and you brush your thumb across his cheek. “Baby?” You tease him, watching his reactions. “Oh, god, who would have guessed you’d get this cute for me?” He blushes, trying not to think much about your words. It was embarrassing. “You need to give me time to adjust. I’ve never…you know I haven’t been with anyone before.” Your eyes widen in realization, “because you were in love with me?” He nods hesitantly. “I am. Present tense.” HIM THINKING ABOUT HER THE WHOLE TIME IS GOING TO KILL ME NOOOO NO NO WHEN CAN I HAVE HIM PLS

“Would it be weird if I asked to join you? Wait, no, I mean,” the slight panic in his voice makes you chuckle. He’s cute. “Can I take you out for lunch? Is what I wanted to ask,” he sighs, the relief obvious. IM SO IN LOVE WITH HIM PLS-

You squeeze your thighs together, eyes flickering between his cock, abs, and face. In the ideal world, you could ride all of them. OH! OKAY ><

“Phasmophobia,” he says, showing you the game. I would play real money to watch an ot5 12 hour live stream of them playing this game in not even kidding and id watch it over and over again and no one could stop me it would be my favorite thing ever lmao-

but thankfully (or possibly unfortunately) you had Beomgyu on your side, arguing with Soobin immediately that you weren’t ready and it would end up with him being alive alone again. PLS I LOVE THEM ;;--;-

“I love you,” he mumbles, just like he has many times before. But this time, it’s different after all. Because this time, you can say it back. UGGUGUGUHGUGHGUHUGHUGHFJG IEF BCVSJZXK˜¨;;

𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 - 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐍

IN WHICH after looking for an apartment for months you finally find a nice place, but it's too big and expensive for you to live alone in it so you ask her two best friends, hoping they could help you out.

pairing– childhood bsf!Choi Soobin x fem!reader

featuring– original characters, members of txt

genre– Fluff, Smut

contains– foreigner!reader, jealous!soobin, childhood friends to lovers, best friends to lovers, roommates au, streamer!soobin, streamer!beomgyu, uni romance, sunshine!reader, she has a lively personality, Soobin is in love, like really desperately so, Soobin has a license and a car, one sided pining, Soogyu shipped as a joke, jujutsu kaisen mentioned

smut warnings– inexperienced!Soobin, dry humping, mutual masturbation, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex + creampie, breast play, missionary, oral (f. receiving)

word count– 20k

playlist

↪ izzy speaks... I'm finally getting to my old ideas!! I was so excited to write this (even though I struggled a bit as I actually don't play many games myself) and I'm really happy with how it turned out! I hope you'll enjoy it just as much <3

only lightly proofread!

The first memory of Soobin you have is from when you were ten, freshly moved into town, with no idea how to say anything but a short and simple introduction. You were in Korea for a month, still trying to figure out the alphabet and all the school paperwork in your hands written in what seemed like hieroglyphics as you walked through the school hallway, trying to find your way around.

“I give up,” you groan, your hands falling back to your sides as you look around, hoping for any clue on where the principal’s office might be. You debate calling your dad, asking him to pick you up and begging him in the car to turn down his promotion after all and take you back home because it’s hell here, but you stop yourself.

Instead, you take a few eager steps forward, determined to reach the office no matter what. But to your luck, you find yourself on the other side of the school, blinking quickly as you try to make sense of the situation unfolding in front of you. Three guys hovering over another boy who keeps his eyes on the textbook in front of him, trying to make it look like he isn’t intimidated by them. But you notice the slight flinch of his arm when one of them raises his voice.

You frown, trying to find the right words. Whatever you could say, you weren’t sure if they would understand you. You knew there wasn’t a high chance of them speaking English, and you definitely didn’t know how to tell them to get lost in their language.

You’re not sure how much time passes when you just stand there, trying to figure something out but eventually, they notice you. You watch them exchange some words that sound like curses, completely ignoring your presence as they press him further, demanding something from the poor boy in the chair.

“Leave him–” Before you can finish your sentence, a strong voice interrupts you, the Korean echoing through the empty classroom. It makes them all back up without hesitation and you turn around as well to see what was so scary behind you. Your eyes meet with an older man who you can only assume is one of the teachers. He asks you something but you just shake your head, trying to explain that you don’t understand him. It’s useless because before you can even open your mouth, his attention redirects to the boys behind you, talking to them instead.

After a short moment, his eyes travel back to you, tilting his head slightly as he observes you. “You’re the new foreign student?” Your eyes widen at his English, immediately nodding. You introduce yourself, asking him about the principal’s office. “Yeah, you’re all going to the principal’s office,” he mumbles, yelling at the boys again. You blink a few times, watching them pass by and grumble something under their breath as they follow the teacher outside.

The boy from the chair walks last, his head down and his bag swinging on his shoulder. He looks around your age, even though his height suggests otherwise. You quickly catch up to him, asking if he’s okay. He glances at you, scanning your features before nodding. You smile, offering him your hand with a memorized introduction. “Soobin,” he hesitates before grabbing your hand, frowning a bit as you shake it. He doesn’t say anything else and you don’t either, just quietly walking towards the principal’s office, preparing to get questioned about what had happened.

You quickly learnt the names of the three guys in your first week, everyone telling you to stay away from them when they heard about the incident you walked in on. Apparently, ‘Hyunwoo and his dogs’ as the kids liked to call them, were quite famous for their behaviour. From drawing on all the possible tables in school to more violent rumors, one you might have saved Soobin from that day.

You haven’t seen him since, but you found other friends. A girl that you were seated beside (Thank you, seating chart, you say to this day) and her older sister Jisoo, who you later found out was in the same class as Soobin. She helped you understand a lot of materials and kindly explained everything she could within her English skills, while Jisoo took you under her wing in the social sense, telling you everything about everyone and making sure you knew who to avoid interacting with. You were grateful to both of them, you still are to this day.

The second time you met Soobin was almost six months later in the hallway when you were rushing to your next class and accidentally bumped into an upperclassman. You mumbled an apology and tried to push past but it was already too late.

“Watch where you’re going,” Taeyang, one of Hyunwoo’s ‘dogs’ pushes you, and before you can stop the fight from happening, a group of kids creates a circle around you, some of them cheering and some whispering about what is happening. You sigh, running your hand through your hair.

“Foreigner is fighting with Taeyang in the hall right now!”

Soobin immediately looks up from his textbook, eyes widened as he watches everyone in the class stand up and rush outside to see the situation for themselves. “Oh god,” Jisoo mumbles from behind him, quickly pushing through others to get there first. He stays seated for a while, waiting for everyone to leave before standing up and making his way out.

The argument is already at its peak when he arrives, trying to make his way through the crowd of people.

“Let’s go,” Jisoo tries to tug at the hem of your shirt. “Stay out of it, Yoon,” Taeyang warns her immediately, taking a step forward. You swallow a lump in your throat as you look up at him, ready to take whatever is coming. “This little bitch thinks she can push me and then tell me to watch where I’m going.”

“That’s enough.” You jerk your head to the side when you hear the voice, your brows furrowing in confusion as you watch Soobin place his hand on Taeyang’s shoulder and push him back. “You’re crossing the line. Leave.” It’s obvious from the look in his eyes that he wants to argue, fight maybe even, but with the way Soobin towers over him and stares him down, it leaves him no other choice but to back up.

“You think you can scare me?”

“I don’t care if you’re scared. What I care about is that you’re going too far. Especially since you’re in the wrong,” he states calmly, casually moving to stand between him and you, covering both you and Jisoo from Taeyang’s sight completely. You blink a few times, confusedly glancing between your friend and the giant in front of you.

“Soobin doesn’t do fights,” Jisoo leans in to whisper into your ear. “No matter if Yeonjun or Beomgyu are involved, he avoids these situations no matter what.”

“Whatever,” Taeyang mumbles after a moment of hesitation, pushing past the crowd to get away. You watch him confusedly, trying to figure out how. How could he start a whole fight with you just to run away the second another boy shows up?

“Are you okay?” Soobin’s soft voice takes you out of your thoughts, making you look at him again. “Yeah,” you nod. “Thank you, Soobin.”

After that day, it became somehow easier for you to find your way into his life. Joining him at lunch, going to his class during break to spend time with Jisoo but eventually just striking up a conversation with him instead. You just wanted to befriend him.

And you did.

Everything turned into a routine shortly after, from eating together and spending time with each other during breaks, to studying together and hanging out outside of school as well. You often accompanied him to pc cafe’s and laughed as he argued with his best friend over who was better, and in return, he always paid for your drink. It was comfortable with Soobin, and you soon started calling him your best friend.

For Soobin, it was the same. It was comfortable hanging out with you. He could be himself without having to worry about what you thought of him. He watched you get along with his friends, immediately blending in, he admired you as you told him about your day when he walked you home—also a routine you started after a few months when you realized you live in the same direction—and he was there for you every time. No matter how bizarre your problem was, he was there, and he made sure you understood that he wasn’t going anywhere.

But over time, his affection towards you started turning into something more. He started noticing the little things you did, like scratching your nose when you tried to focus on something really hard, or how you always doodled in the corner of your notebook when you were zoning out. He tried not to pay attention to those things at first and ignore the weird feeling in his stomach every time he talked to you, but he eventually realized that wasn’t an option.

So, he let his feelings get the best of him. He’s never done anything about them, but they were there and he knew about them.

Jisoo caught onto them as well, he believes. She never said anything to him about it or you as far as he knew but it was obvious from the way she looked at him whenever he was around you. Still, he acted as if he couldn’t see it, deciding it would be for the best to just ignore whatever he was feeling so he wouldn’t ruin your friendship.

“Soobin!” The fifteen year old turned around immediately at the familiar voice, his eyes wide with question as you ran into his class, the biggest grin on your face. “Yes?”

You hold up a piece of paper in front of him, beaming like the ray of sunshine he knows you as. “Look!”

“I told you you’d do great,” he smiles back, scanning the A- on top of the page written in red ink with his eyes. “It’s only thanks to you! God, I could kiss you right now!” You exclaim, almost tearing the paper in half from excitement.

Please do. His eyes soften but he doesn’t say anything, biting back the words that hang on the tip of his tongue. He can’t. No matter how much his heart wants to, he knows better than to be reckless and admit his feelings in the middle of the classroom just because you said something you don’t even mean.

His hand moves up on its own, coming to cup your face. But when he realizes what he’s doing, he quickly pats your head instead. That was the first and last time he was close to confessing or taking a step forward he could never take back again. He couldn’t. The more he watched your smile, the more he knew he had to hold back his feelings no matter what.

“Let’s go, you should get to your next class,” he mumbles instead, averting his eyes from you. Get a grip.

You blink at him through your lashes but nod. He’s right. You do need to get to your next class. You just wanted to show him your accomplishment first. After all, he was the one who sat with you and explained all the material to you for hours. “I’ll see you later then,” you smile, hiding the test result back into your bag. “Our place?”

“Yeah,” he nods, something you can’t quite name flickering in his eyes.

The soft ringtone echoes through the room, the flash making Soobin glance to the side. “Fuck,” he mumbles, focusing on his monitor again. “I need to take this, you got it for a second?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” his best friend, Beomgyu, answers, and Soobin immediately mutes himself, giving an apologetic look into the camera for his watchers. He notices a few comments asking who is calling him and what kind of call he is receiving but he doesn’t answer any of them, picking up his phone and turning off his webcam.

“Soobie!” You exclaim and his lips immediately curve into a smile. “Yeah?” He asks, relaxing in his gaming chair. “I found the perfect apartment!” You explain and his eyes immediately widen in excitement as well. You’ve been looking for weeks now but everything was always either too pricey or far from university. “Yeah?” He’s pretty sure you can hear the smile in his voice but he doesn’t care. “Is it close?”

“Super close! I could even skate to school if I wanted to.”

“You? Skate?” He snorts. “Like on a skateboard?” Just the idea of seeing you trying to balance a skateboard was hilarious to him. He knew that if you put your mind to it you could do it, but until then, he was free to imagine you falling over and over again.

“I could learn from Ryan,” you roll your eyes. Right. There he was again. Soobin’s smile falters for just a second, his mind drifting to the “absolute love of your life” as you like to call him. You knew him for just a little over a year and somehow, he managed to become one of your best friends. Which, if he was honest, was pissing him off.

It felt as if you were incapable of leaving him out of conversations and even though he knew he had no right to feel this way, he was jealous.

“Sure you could. Call me when you do so I can come along and see you fall over and over again.” And so I could make sure he doesn’t try anything.

“As much as I love you, you’re such a brat sometimes,” you shake your head at him, a quiet laugh escaping your lips. “You got that from Beomgyu.”

“Take that back,” he fake gasps, making you laugh. There is a smile on his face again right away, his eyes softening when he listens to your laugh. “Anyway, that’s not why I called. I was thinking…maybe, we could come look at the apartment together again tomorrow. It has three bedrooms and two bathrooms. It’s definitely too big for me to live there alone.”

“Are you suggesting I move in with you?” Soobin blinks a few times, trying to figure out if this is a joke or one of his many dreams coming true. There was no way, right? “And finally get to escape Beomgyu’s nasty room? Please.” You laugh on the other side of the phone, again.

“He probably wouldn’t like hearing that.”

“Good thing he is in his room with headphones and I’m muted then.”

“Wait, shit, am I interrupting your stream?” Your eyes widen immediately, apologies slipping from your lips. “It’s fine,” he shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. But…you’re serious, right? This isn’t one of your jokes?”

“I swear on my family that I seriously want to move in with you,” you assure him. Soobin could feel his smile growing even wider, looking at his computer screen to make sure he was still muted and his webcam was off. He wasn’t sure how he would explain his smile if he weren’t. He must have looked stupid smiling like a ray of sunshine just because his best friend was calling.

“Isn’t it still too big though? Don’t you want to look for something smaller?”

“I’m actually planning on calling Ryan right after we hang up. He’s been looking for a place as well so we could kill two birds with one stone. I wanted to ask you first, though.”

“Ryan?” Seriously? What was with his luck lately? “None of your girlfriends?”

“I do not want to be the reason you start hooking up with Jisoo or any other of my friends for that matter. So no, none of my girlfriends,” you roll your eyes, chuckling. You think it’s a joke, it was meant to sound like that, but before you can add to it, he interrupts you. “I don’t want to hook up with any of your friends,” he grumbles, taking it more seriously than he should. You frown, “Okay? Sorry, I didn’t think you would actually hook up with my friends.”

Soobin sighs, shaking his head. He wasn’t sure what’s gotten into him all of a sudden. “No, I’m sorry. So, tomorrow you said? What time?”

“Two pm! I remember your schedule correctly, right? You don’t have a lesson then, do you?”

“Nope, two pm is great,” he nods slightly, looking at the chat under his stream. They were currently laughing at something Beomgyu did but he wasn’t sure what it was. “I should get back, looks like Beomgyu did something stupid.”

“Yeah, of course. Have fun, I’ll join in a bit,” you smile, saying your goodbyes before hanging up. Soobin rests his head against his chair as he places his phone down again, groaning quietly as he hides his face in his hands. He wasn’t sure if this little arrangement you had in mind would work but he wasn’t going to miss out on his chance just because of some one-sided beef he has with Ryan. That would just be stupid.

So the next day, he finds himself standing in front of the address you provided him at 1:50, nervously looking around and trying to find you with his eyes. Instead, his eyes fall on a boy, his fluffy hair falling in front of his eyes. “Hey,” he calls at Soobin, making him force a smile as he waves at him awkwardly. “You got here earlierly.”

“Yeah,” Soobin shrugs, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Didn’t want to make a bad impression before even moving in.” Ryan chuckles, nodding, “Didn’t expect any less from you.” Soobin frowns, trying to figure out what that even means. He doesn’t say anything else though, simply joining him by his side.

Ryan is around Soobin’s height, slightly taller actually. His hair is black, catching small waves at the ends, and his eyes are a lighter shade of brown than Soobin’s. He’s in all black, like every time he’s met him, comfortable in his loose shirt and jeans. Every time they stand beside each other, Soobin wonders if that’s what you’re into. He looks down on his outfit, a white button-up with light blue jeans, a completely different aesthetic from Ryan’s.

Soobin shakes his head, snapping out of his thoughts. He wasn’t even sure what he was worried about. Sure, Ryan might play the guitar, make music, skate, possess English skills that he could only dream about and be a foreigner (which was also the reason you started talking to him in the first place), but that didn’t mean he was going to steal you from him, did it?

It doesn’t take much longer for you to arrive as well, greeting both boys with a hug. Soobin’s hands wrap around your waist, carefully inhaling the soft scent of your hair as he lingers in the hug for a little longer than he should. You giggle as you step back, smiling at them warmly. “Should we then?”

You follow the owner around the empty house, pointing at certain areas and chatting about how you could decorate it and where to put what furniture. Both guys just keep nodding to you, figuring it was for the best to just have your moment. You don’t mind.

“Okay, I’ll let you look around on your own. Just shut the door when you leave and send me a text,” she squeezes your arm lightly with a warm smile and you nod immediately. She’s sweet and has been treating you with nothing but respect and kindness since she laid her eyes on you so it was easy to return the favor to her.

“I will. Have fun on your date,” you smile, prompting the guys to say their goodbyes as you watch her leave. “You two have gotten close,” Ryan comments with a snort, making you roll your eyes. “Yeah well, I want to live here so it’s normal to have a good relationship with the owner, don’t you think?” He shakes his head at you but doesn’t say anything else.

“Well then, what do you think?” You look between the two boys, hopeful. Soobin smiles at you immediately, unable to hold back when he sees the spark in your eyes. “It’s really pretty,” he mumbles, his eyes soft. You beam right away and it makes him even less sure if he was talking about the apartment or you. “Yeah, you weren’t lying when you said it was, and I quote: ‘the only and greatest apartment to ever exist.’” Ryan laughs. You resist the urge to kick him in the leg and decide to turn to Soobin instead.

“I’ve heard the connection is great and the internet doesn’t crash or anything, so you could stream and play games without any problem. And! We could set your console in the living room and play together on the couch, that’d be fun, right?”

Soobin nods, “Yeah, that sounds great.”

“So you guys are happy? We can talk about the arrangement and settle everything? Please say yes, I’m going insane over here.” Both boys chuckle and nod, making you jump up immediately. “Okay, in that case what do you think about…”

The three of you walk around the apartment once again, deciding where to have the kitchen corner, which bathroom will be yours and which the boys, and then also assigning the bedrooms. Ryan immediately took dips on the smallest one, saying something about it being cozy and just spacious enough for him and his music, which left you and Soobin.

“It’s yours,” he says calmly as you stop in the largest room. You glance up at him, shaking your head. “No, no, you should have it. You need space for your computer and all, you should take the room. I’m fine with the other one,” you assure him but he doesn’t budge, trying to use the gentleman card and saying you should have the first pick as the female. Jokes on him, you immediately played around with his words and said you want to pick the slightly smaller one. He wanted to convince you to have it but before he could open his mouth again, you ran off.

“What is it?” Soobin blinks as he sees Ryan leaning on the wall beside him, watching them with a smirk on his face. He shakes his head, glancing towards where you ran off before looking back at Soobin. “Nothing,” he answers, walking off with a knowing smile. Soobin frowns, sighing before following you.

And just like that, after a little paperwork and preparation, you slowly start moving in, until the apartment is full of boxes, furniture, books, and laughter from all three of you. It doesn’t take long for you to ease into a comfortable rhythm, dividing chores and setting some ground rules to avoid any unnecessary misunderstandings or fights.

It all feels easy, honestly. You spend every morning in the kitchen together before leaving for school and then relax together again over dinner. It often ends up with all of you disappearing into your own rooms and studying or simply doing your own thing, but every once in a while, you stay longer, playing games on the TV with Soobin or watching a movie with Ryan. You always laugh loudly with them, and it makes you appreciate them a tiny bit more.

“This is the last time I let you pick a game,” Soobin mumbles, staring at his computer screen, headphones on and his stream on his other monitor. It’s been a good two hours and half of him and Beomgyu playing roblox games and every time it was Gyu’s turn to pick what they were going to play, he came with some terrible, cringe one, full of thirteen year olds telling them both they were fucking their moms. It was interesting, for sure, to see what was going through the heads of kids these days.

“Not my fault you don’t know how to have fun.” Soobin rolls his eyes, looking over at the chat. Half of them were sending a laughing emote, while the other half encouraged Soobin to play more, having fun while watching him suffer. “Let’s play something normal, please.”

“Warning received,” Soobin snorts. “Let’s finally get through level 100, it’s embarrassing at this point.” Beomgyu couldn’t argue with that. It wasn’t the first roblox stream they did together and somehow, they always ended up playing at least a few rounds of the game but never made it past level 80. Either Soobin died too soon by the stupidest death possible, or he lost the run at level fifty. Either way, Beomgyu always ended up alive alone, with little to no chances.

The game started and like always, it took them more than way too many tries to have them both alive by the time they reached level seventy, both hiding in their own closets as Soobin swore he saw the light flicker. Beomgyu was skeptical about believing him at first but as the closet shakes and a dark shadow runs in front of him, he sighs in relief.

“Okay, let’s just stay alive for a bit longer,” Gyu comments, running to a door with number seventy one. It’s just a few doors later that Beomgyu dies on accident, leaving Soobin alone. There’s a loud curse that leaves his lips and it causes you to peek into his room. Soobin notices you in the corner of the stream recording and pushes his headphones off while keeping his eyes on the game as he gets through another door. “Sorry, am I being too loud?”

“No, it’s fine,” you shake your head, smiling awkwardly as you come closer. It’s not the first time you’ve appeared in one of his videos but it still feels embarrassing. You wouldn’t say you’re exactly fit for the camera. “What are you playing?” You ask, answering yourself when your eyes land on the screen. “Hey, Beom,” you lean even closer so you reach Soobin’s microphone, giggling slightly.

Soobin watches you, really hoping no one is about to kill him because he can’t focus on anything other than your figure beside him. He is in so much trouble.

Your name leaves Beomgyu’s lips like a prayer, almost begging you to take over and push through the levels which has the chat laughing on the side. You look at your best friend to see if Gyu is exaggerating or if he really needs help. He only gives you a shy smile, his eyes soft as he watches you. “Alright, get up. You’re getting benched,” you laugh as he stands up from his chair and you sit down instead, greeting the chat warmly before focusing solely on the game.

Soobin brings another chair to sit on, leaving it in the background as he watches, a part of him absolutely in love as you interact with his chat and push past the levels, the other part feeling angsty. You’re right here, making him feel like the luckiest boy on the planet but at the same time, you’re as far as you can be.

His cheeks grow hotter as he notices a few of the watchers commenting how cute you two look together and some of the new fans asking if you’re his girlfriend. He doesn’t answer any of them but they sit in the back of his mind, thinking about them, about you. You don’t seem to pay them any attention but he wonders what you think of them, of the thought of you and him together.

Somehow, in the blink of an eye, you manage to pass level one hundred and Soobin snaps out of his thoughts as your loud cheer echoes through the room. You turn to face him immediately, excitement written all over your face and he gives you one of his proud smiles, wishing to do nothing else but wrap his arms around you and never let go.

“Okay you can die now, I want to play something else,” Beomgyu says, making you turn again which causes Soobin’s face to fall for a brief second. “I should go. I can’t steal Soobin’s job entirely,” you laugh, the sound sending a wave through Soobin’s body. Yeah, he was fucked.

You really do leave shortly after and Soobin ignores all the comments asking about you, playing for another hour before he ends the stream, sighing loudly as he leans back in his chair.

“You should work on your expressions,” Beomgyu comments, the sound of a drawer opening and then closing again heard in the background of their call. “What are you talking about?” Soobin asks confusedly, frowning. “My chat has been asking me about you and her. Apparently it’s ‘super obvious’ with the way you look at her.”

“I don’t look at her anyhow,” he argues and a scoff leaves Gyu’s lips. “Say that to the fans and editors because I’ve seen you, it is super obvious. I want to tell you you have nothing to worry about, I really do, but who knows what she’s going to think when people start shipping you together and pointing out you are head over heels for your best friend.”

“They already ship you and me together. They do think I’m head over heels for my best friend,” Soobin rolls his eyes, trying to make a joke out of the situation. Because Beomgyu was right, and he wasn’t sure how he would explain it to you if you believed them.

“Babe, I thought we were keeping it a secret,” Beomgyu gasps dramatically, making him laugh. “And also, we divorced the moment you decided to move out and live with your side chick and arch nemesis.”

“Okay, stop calling them that.”

“Why? Am I speaking lies? You literally told me and Yeonjun that you were going to die living with your biggest enemy and jerking off material in the same house.”

“I didn’t! Stop calling her those weird names, god,” he groans, closing his eyes from embarrassment. Beomgyu laughs on the other side of the phone. “Then do something so I can finally call her your girlfriend because this isn’t even funny anymore.”

“I’m hanging up,” Soobin proclaims, completely ignoring his best friend and the incredibly stupid topic of conversation. “Have a good night.”

“Coward!” Beomgyu accuses him with a laugh before saying his goodbye and hanging up. Soobin sighs, staying seated in his place for a while longer before finally deciding to stand up and leave his room to get something to eat.

He comes into the kitchen right when you’re in the middle of plating a pizza on three plates, making him raise his eyebrow as he comes closer. “I didn’t know you brought pizza.” You look up at him and smile as you hand him his portion. “Not me. Ryan did. His date bought it apparently,” you wiggle your eyebrow teasingly. Soobin blinks quickly to hide the surprise on his face, holding onto the plate with his two pieces. “I didn’t know he was seeing someone.”

“It’s a secret, act like you don’t know or else he’s going to kill me. He said it’s top secret information but who would I be to keep anything from my favorite best friend?” You lean closer to him, whispering with a soft giggle. You pull back and smirk, “don’t say that to anyone either, though. I can’t have them know you are my number one.”

Soobin feels like he stops working for a second. Your perfume reaches his nose, already making him weak in the knees. And as if that wasn’t enough you keep saying things that mess with his head. Things that definitely aren’t good for his mental health. He isn’t a psychiatrist but he is sure that if he attended therapy the first thing they’d tell him would be to stop thinking about you like you’re his soulmate and distance himself.

“Also, Ryan said he’s going to be out tomorrow night so we’ll have dinner without him.” Soobin hesitates, taking a bite of his food as he watches you. “Do you want to go out then?” He asks, a little more hopeful than he should be. “We can get something to eat and do something fun.”

“That sounds great,” you beam immediately, grinning widely as you pick up the two plates from the counter. “Late night drive around with some maccies is what I’ve been craving.”

“Okay, then we have a plan,” he smiles and you walk off to Ryan’s room, letting him know you’re going to watch a movie together and that if he needs anything, he can just text you.

He doesn’t. Because all he can think about for the rest of the night is that Ryan is seeing someone who isn’t you. The day couldn’t get better.

Soobin’s surprised face makes you chuckle. “Let’s take a picture, you look nice today,” you encourage, pushing him towards a body sized mirror in the hallway. He has to blink a few times before he takes out his phone but still doesn’t say anything, trying to calm himself down. This isn’t a date, he has to remind himself every time you look up at him with those sparkly eyes and make his heart race just a bit faster.

He wraps his arm around your waist and you lean closer to him, smiling into the mirror as he takes a picture of the two of you. You ask him to send it to you immediately after it’s done and he just nods, mumbling a quiet “will do,” before grabbing his car keys and stepping into his shoes.

You grab a jacket from the hanger, following Soobin out of the door as you rant about being hungry and how it took him forever to end his stream and dress up. He doesn’t argue with you because he knows you’re right. It’s already way past 10pm. He knows he is lucky he offered to buy otherwise you might actually choke him.

You sit in the passenger seat, scrolling through your playlist as you try to find something fitting the vibe while Soobin drives off, taking you to the closest McDonalds like you asked the day before. “Oh. My. God. This is it!” You exclaim and Soobin glances at you, raising an eyebrow curiously. When Home by Edward Sharpe and The Magnetic Zeros starts playing on his car’s speaker and you show him the playlist you’ve made with him when you were in high school, his eyes soften.

“That was definitely one of my most played songs a few years back,” he mumbles, taking a turn to the right. “And it was your fault because you loved borrowing my phone for music.” You giggle, placing the phone down and looking out the window. The sun has long gotten down, now replaced with a night sky full of stars. It was quiet, the only sound interrupting your thoughts the song you put on and occasional cars in the other line.

Soobin only stops the car once he gets to the drive through, lowering the music so it’s barely audible. You don’t even get a chance to speak up before he is already ordering, making sure to get everything you could possibly want. You just watch him, admiring him from your place. It’s easy with him, comfortable, and every time you see him act so boyfriendable, you wonder why he doesn’t have a girl already. You know this is exactly what girls search for in guys, you aren’t an exception. After Jisoo pointed it out one time, you realized you always looked for a piece of your best friend in the guys you dated.

“Anything else?” He turns to you, the softest smile on his face and you just shake your head, your lips curling into the same stupid grin. “Okay, that’ll be all then,” he says happily, slowly driving the car forward to pick up the drinks. He puts a coke in the middle of the two of you before handing you a milkshake, placing his own beside the coke.

The happiness is obvious on your face as you get your hands on the food and Soobin drives off, trying to think of a spot to park the car so he could eat as well. “God, this is exactly what I meant when I said I want to have late night car dates with you back when we were little with no idea how cars work,” you take a bite, leaning into your seat. “This is so good.” That’s when an idea flickers in his head, turning the car around as soon as he can. “Remember when we used to hang out at the playground and you’d dream about staying there forever?”

“Oh my god! And then you’d tell me that’s not possible because I’d catch a cold and die alone because you wouldn’t stay there forever with me! I was so mad at you and cried to Jisoo about not wanting to die alone!” You laugh at the memory.

“I just wanted to make you go home where you’d be safe,” he proclaims, his eyes focused on the road. “But if it wouldn’t work and you’d want to stay there, I would have stayed with you forever,” he says casually, so simply that you don’t think anything of it because in reality, it’s just a few words. But he is anything but calm as he secretly glances at you in the rearview mirror, hoping to catch something in your expression. You giggle again, sharing the briefest smile with him before taking a sip of the coke.

He should feel disappointed or sad that his words do nothing to you. He should. If it was him, and you told him you would stay with him forever, he might as well drop to one knee and propose to you immediately. But you aren’t him. And even though he knows you don’t feel the same attraction to him like he does, he can’t seem to feel the sadness or anger. All he feels is happiness. Happiness that despite all that, he can still have you like this, beside him, laughing as you talk about childhood memories, looking equally as pleased as he is.

Your eyes widen when you notice him parking near the playground you were so obsessed with when you were younger. “It still stands,” you whisper, the sound so quiet you think he doesn’t even catch it. “They’ve made some changes throughout the years but yeah, still stands.” You turn to face him, your expression a mixture of happiness, gratefulness, but also vulnerability because of all the memories the playground holds. His eyes soften, if that was even possible anymore. “Let’s go?”

A comfortable silence settles over you, the street lamp casting a soft light over his face. He leans back, watching the sky as if he wanted to count every star possible.

“Do you ever wonder how we work out?” His eyes flicker back to you, his expression slightly confused. “What do you mean?”

“Just that…I know people used to think we were a weird duo. Remember when Yeonjun saw us hanging out for the first time and asked you if I didn’t black mail you into dealing with me?” You laugh quietly at the memory, taking another sip of your milkshake. “But then again, I guess you do keep similar types of people around you.”

“Did you just accidentally compare yourself to Beomgyu?”

You gasp, trying to sound offended. It doesn’t last long because you end up laughing again. It’s always easy to laugh with him. “I mean, I guess. I don’t know what I’m talking about, honestly. It’s probably the fact we’ve been friends for so long and I already know all your deepest darkest secrets so I can’t ask about that.”

“You mean like the fact you practically asked Taehyun to marry you the first time I introduced you?” He teases and your eyes widen as you slap his hand. “Come on! Don’t go revealing my secrets like it’s nothing! Plus, we were eleven and unlike your other friends, he was the only one treating me like a lady instead of your little punching bag!” You complain.

“Definitely not my fault Yeonjun and Beomgyu were immature little shits,” he laughs. “Yeah, well, they still are,” you huff even though you know it’s far from that. Yeonjun has turned into a gentleman who helps old people carry things when he sees them struggling without a second of hesitation, and Beomgyu has been nothing but respectful to every woman he’s met since you slapped him for making an inappropriate joke back when you were fourteen.

Soobin shrugs, unable to hide the smile on his face, “It’s good you’re always there to put them back in their place then.” You roll your eyes playfully, your eyes narrowing in mischief that doesn’t pass by unnoticed by your best friend. But before he can ask what you’re thinking about, you quickly untangle your legs and sit at the top of the slide, glancing at him over your shoulder. “First one on the swing wins.”

The night is filled with laughter and stupid jokes as you move around the playground. You get to the swing first, partly because you gave yourself an advantage, but mostly because he has no desire to win. He does get down as well though, and ends up lazily swinging you back and forth while you talk about how school is going and he tells you about today’s stream. It’s intimate, and anyone walking near would think you’re on a date, but the thought doesn’t even cross your mind for a brief second.

Soobin can’t say the same thing. Because with every brush of his hand on yours, every joke you crack, every memory, and every smile he gets from you, the more he has to remind himself that this is just a casually friendly hangout and he has no right to think of you in the way he does. If he allows himself to believe anything else it won’t go nicely for him. Because no matter how much he wishes to have you more than he already does, he knows it’s not possible.

“I think we work out because you’ve always just been you around me without being worried about what I’d think and I’ve always admired you, knowing I’d do anything for you just to keep you in my life.”

The words come out before Soobin can think them through. It’s raw, so vulnerable that he can’t bear looking you in the eyes afterwards, turning around and walking back to the slide to grab all the trash you left there. You blink a few times, smiling like a little kid as you watch him comfortably reach for everything when the memory of little Soobin flashes into your mind and you remember how much he struggled to reach it before. You’ve both surely grown a lot.

“We should get back, it’s late,” he mumbles, still avoiding looking you in the eyes. You don’t point it out even though you’re confused on why that is and follow him to his car, quickly dozing off as he drives off and Everyone Adores You (at least I do) by Matt Maltese from your high school playlist plays in the car.

You’re not sure how you got to bed last night but you don’t exactly care either. All you care about is that your makeup is wiped off and you can get ready without cursing at yourself for sleeping without doing your night routine.

You join Ryan in the kitchen with a warm greeting and he gives you an awkward smile, immediately making you narrow your eyes as you question what happened. Sure, he wasn’t exactly a morning person but that never stopped him from smiling for real when he saw you. He sighs, a sound so heavy and tired you know whatever he’s about to tell you isn’t going to be good.

You sit on the couch and talk about his date from last night, the English echoing through the apartment. It was always easier for the two of you to talk in English as you could express yourself better and get the emotions out right, especially if it was just the two of you and you didn’t need to worry about leaving anyone out of the conversation by them not being able to understand you. Normally, if you were having a conversation in English and Soobin joined you, you’d try to switch to Korean as quickly as possible, but this time it just didn’t feel right. So you let Ryan talk without pointing out the fact Soobin stood on the side, frowning as he tried to make sense of what he was saying.

You feel sorry for him. This was the first time since he moved to the country that he was brave enough to go on a date with someone and this is how it turned out. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him into a tight hug, rubbing soft circles on the back of his neck instinctively. You don’t even realize you’re doing so but Soobin does, and as soon as he sees you like this with Ryan, something in him boils. No matter how many times he reminds himself he has no right to feel jealous, the emotion creeps up his spine before he can stop it.

“You can’t blame yourself for how things turned out. You couldn’t have known. Next time will be better. I can help you find–”

“I’m done with dating. Never was for me anyway,” he interrupts you, pulling back so you let him go and he can stand up. “If it was, I wouldn’t be this way.” His last words hit the hardest but before you can call after him and tell him he’s wrong, he locks himself in his room, leaving you frozen on the couch, feeling as bad for him as you can.

“I thought girls love musicians. He has a lot of fans, doesn’t he? Surely there is someone who would love him in a way he deserves,” Soobin comments as he prepares his breakfast, scanning your face for any signs that you might be looking to love him in that way. “It’s complicated,” you mumble as you join him, glancing at Ryan’s bedroom door. “I just wish he wouldn’t think so badly of himself.”

Ryan leaves the apartment as soon as he steps out of his room again to get to his morning lessons on time while you and Soobin watch him from the kitchen. You wish him good luck before he can leave and he smiles slightly but doesn’t say anything else, wanting to be left alone as soon as possible. You don’t blame him, honestly.

“Should we go as well?” Soobin asks, breaking the silence that’s taken over the apartment. “Yeah, I’m just going to run to the bathroom real quick,” you nod, doing as you said before leaving with Soobin by your side.

You notice a few girls chatting and giggling while watching you as soon as you step on campus but you don’t pay it much attention, convincing yourself you’re imagining it. It’s not until your third lesson that you share with Jisoo that you find out the looks weren’t just in your head.

“How could you not tell me?” She questions, offended, as she plops her bag onto the chair beside you. You blink confusedly, turning your head to face her. “Tell you what exactly?” You ask confusedly, watching her sit down. “That you’re dating?” She scans your face for an answer before her eyes widen. “Oh my god, you’re not dating!” She gasps, quickly searching for something on her phone. “I thought that you finally got together! God, I got totally fooled!”

She hands you her phone and your eyes land on Soobin’s new post. He posted last night, shortly after you made it back home. The first picture is of you and him in the hallway, the picture you made him take before going out. You swipe to look at more, your eyes scanning the photo of the food you had, all laid out on the top of the slide, your figure on the side. The next one is the one with a milkshake. It makes you smile. The last one is of the night sky, all pictures put together under one description: Healing night.

You bite back your smile, your ears catching red as you open the comments. There are girls calling you pretty, some people asking if this is a hard launch, a few asking where the pictures are from, but a heavy amount of the comments are just people saying how good you look together.

Your eyes widen and you give Jisoo her phone back, trying to figure out what the right words are. “You’re blushing,” she comments before you get the chance to tell her you’re not dating your best friend. “I’m not,” you argue and she eyes you up and down. “Hm,” she hums as if she just understood your whole. “Have you ever thought about Soobin in a romantic sense?”

“What? No. He’s my best friend,” you shake your head to refuse but for some reason, the thought flickers in your head. Being with him, going on dates similar to last night, having a partner that knows you like no one else, someone you trust with your life. It’d be nice to have someone who’s already so close to you become something even more. But it’s Soobin you’re thinking about, the same boy who watched you on every step of your childhood since you moved, the same boy who saw all your embarrassing moments and showed you that opposite gender friendships were possible.

It’s Soobin, the same boy who could never think what you’re thinking about right now, so why does your heart race a bit faster at the image of it?

“So? That’s not a disease, love,” she reminds you and a part of you questions if she just wants to hear you say you’re in love with your best friends. Unfortunately for her, the answer will be no. You’re not in love with him, even though you’re now stuck with the image of dating him in your head. “I never said it was. I simply never thought about him in that sense.”

“And are you now?”

“What?”

“Are you now thinking about him in that sense?”

You blink, opening your mouth to protest. No sound comes out and you end up closing it again, which leaves her with a knowing smirk. You scoff, opening your laptop instead as you try to focus on anything else.

Jisoo doesn’t bring it up anymore, obviously pleased with your answer, or the lack thereof, but that doesn’t mean it just disappears like you wish it would. Throughout the rest of the day, there are a few more girls who come up to you just to ask if you’re dating Soobin and each time, you tell them the same thing. “He’s just my friend, we went out because we live together and no one wanted to cook.”

Every time you say so, they give you a smirk or giggle in exchange before running off again and you know they don’t believe you. For all know there might be a rumor going around the school already that Soobin, the streamer half of this University watches in their free time, is dating you.

“No, I’m not dating Choi Soobin, the pictures you’ve seen weren’t from our date,” you sigh automatically when you hear someone clear their throat behind you to get your attention. Your eyes widen when you see Ryan, relief brushing over you. “God, you wouldn’t believe the day that I had.”

“I’ve heard,” he nods, walking beside you. “I talked to Jisoo earlier, she finds it all amusing.”

“Of course she does,” you scoff. “She’s been trying to get me to admit my feelings or something.” You tell him about your conversation, leaving out the fact that ever since you found out about it, you’ve been unable to focus on anything other than your best friend. And when you thought about it, you couldn’t even blame them for believing you were together with him.

“Why don’t you confront him about it?” You frown slightly, fixing your bag strap as it slides off your shoulder. “About what? It’s not like it’s his fault we look like a couple in those pictures.” Ryan shrugs. “Well, that’s true but you could ask him about it, find out what he thinks and all.”

“No, he’s going to think I’m weird for paying attention to things like that,” you whine, making him roll his eyes at you. “I know you, and I know you’re thinking about him so take a step forward and ask him if he’s thinking about it as well otherwise it’s never going to happen. He’s too big of a coward to say anything.”

“You don’t make any sense,” you mumble, taking out your keys and unlocking the door when you get to the apartment building. “You say that because apparently I’m the only one with eyes. Do you genuinely not see the way he looks at you?”

You stop midstep, hitting Ryan with your bag on accident as you turn to face him, blinking confusedly. “What?” He sighs, pushing the door open and taking a step inside when you don’t move. “Just focus on his eyes at dinner,” he says, walking off before you can ask anything else.

He knows it’s not his place to say anything but honestly, he’s had enough of Soobin’s longing glances you somehow never caught. And if there was the chance you would now look at him the same and he’d have to live watching the two of you pine after each other, he’d much rather just tell you about Soobin’s feelings instead of waiting for him to confess.

Sitting on your bed with a study sheet opened on your laptop is doing nothing to help you memorize the material and after a few minutes, you end up closing it and giving up. It’s unbelievable how much of an influence just one day can have on your whole thinking. You keep replaying the comments in your head along with Jisoo’s and Ryan’s words.

You quickly shake your head to snap back, a heavy sigh leaving your lips. You were never supposed to think of him that way.

Making your way out of the room again and almost colliding with Soobin as he tries to go to the bathroom is not ideal since you can’t even look him in the eyes but you hope he doesn’t notice. You’re not ready to explain that you’re avoiding him now because, ever since people started thinking you were dating, you haven’t been able to stop fantasizing about him.

You apologize before running into the kitchen, your eyes screaming for help as soon as Ryan turns to you. He simply laughs and shakes his head, paying attention to the rice he is cooking again. “What? You’ve seen a ghost?”

“This is all your fault!” You complain. “You messed with my head. You and Jisoo both did.”

“Oh no, is this the part where you realize he is also a man and has a dick he can use?” Your cheeks turn red but thankfully you can stop before your imagination goes wild. “Shut up! He literally lives here!” You whisper yell at him, checking if he’s still in the bathroom and can’t hear you. “You didn’t deny it,” he points out immediately, turning off the heat.

“I hate you.”

“You love me,” he corrects with a smirk, making you roll your eyes. “I’m never speaking to him again and it’s your fault, just so you know.”

“Who aren’t you talking to?” Soobin’s voice makes you close your eyes in regret. “No one, doesn’t matter,” you brush it off, hoping he’ll leave it at that. To your luck, he walks closer to you instead and eyes you up and down. “Are you okay?” He asks, the worry in his voice hitting you. His eyes look broken as well, something deeper behind them. This all because of you? You swallow, smiling at him as you nod, assuring him it’s all good.

“The dinner–” you start but Ryan interrupts you by clearing his throat, giving you one stern look. “Is going to take a bit longer and Ryan said he’ll take care of it, so can we talk?” You ask even though every part of your body tells you to do the exact opposite and run away as far as you can from this conversation. Preferably pretend you never got yourself into this situation.

“Of course,” he nods, glancing at Ryan quickly as if to ask if anything was going on. He just gives him a reassuring smile and encourages for the two of you to leave.

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay? What’s going on?”

“Let’s sit down,” you say, shaking your head and following him to his bedroom. You make yourself comfortable on his bed while he sits down on his gaming chair, trying to read through you and see what you’re thinking. He stays silent, giving you all the time you need and simply watching you. That’s when you notice it, the look in his eyes Ryan mentioned. There’s something—something you can’t quite name, that makes you feel at home. You weren’t sure what love looked like but you could imagine it being pretty damn close to what you see in his eyes.

“The photos from last night are really pretty, I’m still waiting for you to send them over,” you start, carefully observing him. “Right, sorry, I completely forgot,” he apologizes, taking out his phone without any hesitation. Your own rings in your pocket and you assume it’s the pictures. “Thank you,” you mumble, playing with your fingers in your lap awkwardly. “No problem.”

“We should…do it again. I had fun. It reminded me of a lot of memories,” you keep your eyes down but you can still feel his gaze on you as he tries to read you. You’re sure he sees through you but you can’t bring yourself to actually ask what’s on your mind. “I’ve been listening to the playlist as well, it needs an update.”

He hums, his eyes never leaving yours. “The Shade, Rex Orange County.”

“What?”

“You should add that to our playlist,” he explains.

“What is it about?”

“Listen and see,” he smiles warmly and you roll your eyes in disbelief. The room gets quiet again and you bite the inside of your cheek so you won’t say something stupid. He shifts in his place, sighing. “If you tell me what’s bothering you it’ll be a lot easier for me to help.”

You hesitate before sighing as well. “Do you ever read comments under your posts?” You ask, watching his eyes widen. Yeah, he definitely knows what you’re talking about. “Sometimes, I guess,” he says, trying to sound calm. You hum. “The pictures from yesterday…” you trail off, rethinking your words. “A lot of people asked if we are together, and that we’d look good as a couple. Some people asked me about it today as well,” you admit.

“The fans get like that,” he mumbles, averting his eyes from you. “They keep trying to find anything about my personal life they can. You don’t need to pay much attention to it. After all, they ship me and Beomgyu as well,” he laughs awkwardly and you catch the slight discomfort in his voice. “It’s just what comes with the job.”

You listen to him, keeping quiet and taking in his words. Maybe he was right. It was just how fans get, what happens when you decide to put yourself out there for the world to judge, but if what you caught in his eyes was anywhere close to what you thought, you couldn’t just drop it.

“So you never thought about…us? Together?” You ask quietly, your heart skipping a beat when his eyes lock with yours again and you see the flicker of emotion behind them again. It definitely wasn’t just in your head. Something like an attraction was hiding in his eyes and you felt stupid for not noticing earlier.

Soobin doesn’t answer right away. You can see his throat bob as he swallows, and his fingers tighten slightly around the hem of his sleeve like he’s bracing himself. “I did,” he admits and for a second you feel like your heart stops beating. “But that’s just stupid, right? It’s nothing, doesn’t mean anything. The fans got into my head and I’m talking nonsense, forget it,” he blurts out so quickly you almost don’t understand anything.

“Soobin, calm down.” He looks at you, vulnerable, and you fight the urge to get up and swallow him in a breath-taking hug. “I’m not saying it’s…wrong, or stupid.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” you assure him, slowly getting up from his bed and walking over to him. You kneel in front of him and hold his hands in yours so he keeps his eyes on you. “Maybe I wouldn’t mind if you did think about me that way,” you smile slightly, looking up at him through your lashes. “Maybe I’d like that.”

His hands squeeze yours without even realizing, his breath shaking as he comprehends your words. He doesn’t say anything, barely even blinks, out of fear that if he moves even just slightly, you’ll disappear and he realizes it’s all just a dream.

But you stay, holding his hands as if it’s the most normal thing in the world and there’s nothing to worry about. He exhales quietly, finally closing his eyes and allowing himself to feel. The warmth of your hands, your soft voice as you assure him you’re there and real, and the scent of you that he is convinced he can never get enough of.

“In that case, I think I’ve been in love with you since we were twelve.”

Dinner was quiet that night. Ryan tried to ask you how it went and if you’re with him now, but you just brushed him off, stealing glances and smiles from Soobin the whole evening. It was a bit awkward and new, but you didn’t mind. Just knowing you weren’t the only one thinking about it was enough for now.

You decided to watch a movie with Ryan when you were done eating and even though your attention was now on the movie options, you noticed Soobin’s glare before he disappeared back into his room without another word. It made you blink a few times, almost as if to see you weren’t imagining it. When you averted your eyes from the now closed door, Ryan didn’t forget to mention you were blushing.

And so, you spent the whole night thinking about what was going to happen now. Would anything really change? Honestly, you wanted it to. For some reason, after hearing your best friend has been in love with you for almost as long as you’ve known him, had a bigger impact on you than you thought it would. And after dreaming of holding his hand and kissing him the whole night, you wanted nothing more than to do so in the morning.

Soobin and Ryan are already in the kitchen when you wake up and make your way over, sharing a warm smile with them and a quiet “good morning.” Ryan answers you first, greeting you before running off to the bathroom, saying something about being late. Bullshit. Still, you let him do whatever he wants and walk closer to Soobin, your smile more cautious now as you try to see where the line lies.

Soobin looks at you the same, wary but happy. He leans against the kitchen counter, his eyes flickering to where Ryan just disappeared before landing back on you. You raise your eyebrow, stopping in front of him. You hold his hands carefully, searching for any sight of discomfort before you bring his hands to your waist, leaving them there. The emotion behind his eyes switches immediately, now way more calm and soft. “Good morning,” he greets you, squeezing your waist lightly to make sure it’s real.

“Slept well?” You ask, gently placing your hands on his biceps. “Yeah,” he nods, the nervousness in his voice obvious. You smile, stroking his arm in a reassuring motion. “What were you planning on getting for breakfast? I’m starving.” He quickly blinks before letting his hands fall back to his side when you switch conversation, making you shake your head. You don’t push him though, watching him as he moves around the kitchen to prepare one more toast for you.

You grab the plate from him with a “thank you,” when he’s done and jump up onto the counter, encouraging him to come closer to you. He listens, standing between your thighs. You put the plate beside you and cup his face, your breath shaking as your eyes flicker from his to his lips.

“You can touch me, Soob. It’s okay.” His Adam’s apple bobs and he holds your waist again, careful, like he’s afraid to break you. “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable,” he mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper. “You won’t,” you assure him gently. “I’ve known you for so long there’s no way you could make me uncomfortable with some physical touch. Hug me, hold me,” you lean closer to him, lips brushing over his ear, “kiss me, ask me on dates, do whatever you want, baby.”

Soobin shivers under your touch, your words messing with his head more than they should. His breath hitches and his grip on your waist tightens to steady himself. The nickname rings in his ears and his neck turns pink, slowly raising his head to look at you. “Can you say it again?”

Your smile widens and you brush your thumb across his cheek. “Baby?” You tease him, watching his reactions. “Oh, god, who would have guessed you’d get this cute for me?”

He blushes, trying not to think much about your words. It was embarrassing. “You need to give me time to adjust. I’ve never…you know I haven’t been with anyone before.” Your eyes widen in realization, “because you were in love with me?”

He nods hesitantly. “I am. Present tense.” Your hands fall to his shoulders, punching him with your fist gently (it’s more like a caress) as your head drops to his shoulder as well, hiding your face from him. “You can’t do this, that’s not fair,” you mumble, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to get yourself to stop blushing.

Soobin turns his head slightly to look at you, his breathing uneven as he watches you from so up close. It’s a sight he thought he could only dream about. His hand moves from your waist to your lower back, rubbing gentle circles with his thumb. It’s partly to calm you down even though he thinks it’s not going to work, but mostly for himself. He needs to feel you under his hand, know that you’re real and this is now his reality. Because, god, does it feel like a dream.

You raise your head again, gazing into his eyes. You both hesitate and his hand stops mid movement as he looks at you. He gives you a small nod and you lean closer, pressing your lips against his gently. He kisses you back, even though you can feel how much he’s thinking it all through. You smile into the kiss and just that simple motion is enough to calm him down and allow himself to enjoy it, his lips soft against yours.

When he pulls back, he looks like you’ve just handed him the stars he thought he could never reach.

You leave the apartment first, rushing to get to your first lesson with the kiss still lingering in the back of your mind, the feeling of his lips against yours vivid. There’s a smile on your face when you get to class and it takes all your strength to make yourself focus on the new material instead of your best friend.

Jisoo notices the change as soon as she sees you. Obviously. She smirks as her eyes scan you, trying to figure out what it is that’s different. “You look overly happy,” she says and your grin widens. “I am,” you nod. “What’s the occasion?”

“I may or may not have kissed someone this morning,” you admit and her eyes widen immediately. “Oh my gosh!” She exclaims, grabbing your hand and pulling you closer so others won’t hear your conversation. “It’s Soobin, isn’t it? Please tell me it’s him.” You laugh, nodding, and she squeezes your hand in excitement. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this! I’ve been secretly cheering you two on ever since I saw how he looked at you when we were little.”

Your eyes widen. “Has everyone always seen it except for me?!” You whisper yell, questioning how you could be so blind for all those years. “Ryan pointed it out as well.”

“And that’s exactly why I always loved Ryan,” Jisoo giggles. “And? What else? I need to hear everything!” You chuckle, briefly looking around before turning back to her again and telling her about everything. From the way your mind went crazy after she asked you if you’ve ever thought about him in a romantic sense to this point, repeating how cute he is over and over again.

That’s when you realize the saying “speak of the devil and he shall appear” is very true. Because at the same time, your phone starts ringing, lighting up with Soobin’s contact info and making the flutter in your stomach return. Your eyes soften immediately and you give Jisoo one apologetic look before picking up.

“Yes?” You ask softly, already smiling.

“Hi,” his voice is soft even through the phone.

“What’s up? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, all good. You’re free for an hour at 12, right?” You blink and nod, for a second forgetting he can’t see you. “I do, I was planning on having lunch then.”

There’s a short pause but you don’t rush him, calmly waiting for his answer while listening to the faint rustle of movement on his end.

You bite your bottom lip to prevent yourself from smiling like an idiot, briefly glancing at Jisoo. She already has one of her warm smiles on, cheering you on from the side. “Of course you can,” you nod. “That would be great, actually.”

“Okay, yeah,” he says, voice softening, calm. “What about the restaurant near the library? Yeonjun said that one is pretty good, if you’re okay with that.”

“Let’s go there,” you agree. There’s another pause, this one comfortable. “Okay,” he repeats, a bit awkward. “I’ll meet you there then?”

“Yeah,” you say. “I’ll see you there.”

“You’re so sickening, it’s cute,” Jisoo shakes her head with a laugh. You roll your eyes at her but don’t argue. “I hope it works out for you, genuinely. Soobin is nice and we both know he’d go out of his way to take care of you.” You smile sheepishly, your cheeks turning pink. “Yeah, but I’m still worried to fuck it up,” you admit. “We are best friends, we’ve always been.”

“And that’s not going to change,” she assures you. “He’ll always be your best friend first, but if you’ll let him, I’m sure he’ll gladly take on the job of your boyfriend as well. You’re not going to ruin anything.”

You nod, taking in her words. She’s right, you know she is. Deep down you know that no matter what, there was nothing that could make you stop being friends with him, but you were scared nonetheless. You never hesitated when it came to relationships, believing that you were either meant to be or not and there was nothing you could do about it, but with Soobin, you didn’t want to risk the second option.

Jisoo seems to see right through you because she spends most of your lesson talking to you about how amazing Soobin is (as if you didn’t already know that) and how you were going to be even more inseparable as a couple, wishing you all the luck in the world. It seizes your worries, which you’re thankful to her for.

The restaurant is quiet to your surprise. You expected it to be messy during lunch hour but even though the place is full, it’s calm and cozy. Your eyes fall on your best friend as soon as you step inside, a smile creeping up your lips as you walk to the table for two. “Hi,” you greet him, taking a seat across from him. He smiles back at you, making your heart race faster. “Hey.”

“Did you already order something?” You ask, immediately regretting how awkward you sound. Was this how it was going to be with him from now on? “No. Waited for you,” he says, pretending to scan the menu. He doesn’t do too well because you catch his eyes on you, stealing glances as if you were still something he could only dream of.

“What is it?” You wonder, a smile spreading across your face. You feel like a fresh teen experiencing her first summer romance. Maybe that was what you and Soobin were supposed to be a long time ago—teenagers in love who no one believed would last but they pulled through anyway. You could imagine it. Sharing your first kiss with him, spending all those Christmases together as something more than just friends, going on a bunch of dates and thinking you could never be more in love.

“You’re pretty,” he says casually, watching as your cheeks turn pink under his words. “You don’t have to say things like that,” you shake your head even though you wish he would tell you a lot more. “I want to. I wanted to tell you so many times over the years but always held myself back. And now that I have the opportunity…I want to tell you as many times as I can.”

Yeah, Choi Soobin knew how to mess with your heart.

You feel hotter, knowing your ears must be red now as well. “You…” you swallow the rest of your sentence when your eyes lock with his, every word you’ve ever learnt disappearing from your brain. You were in trouble. You avert your eyes, ignoring the tingly feeling in your stomach and focusing on the menu on the table.

He doesn’t say anything else, his own heart playing games with him as silence settles over the two of you. He isn’t as secretive with his glances now but still tries to keep them low, not wanting to seem like a creep but unable to help himself. He watches you order, talk about an assignment for one of your classes and a new movie that just came out. He doesn’t hesitate asking you if you want to watch it with him tonight, and you don’t waver with your answer either, saying you’d love to do that.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize suddenly, making him raise his eyebrow in confusion as he sips on his coke. “What for?”

“Not seeing you sooner.” It hits like a dagger but he still shakes his head, setting the glass down. “That’s not something you can control.” You gaze down onto the table, rethinking your words. “I just… You’ve always been so good to me,” your eyes meet his and his heart shatters when he sees the regret and shame behind them. It wasn’t often that he’d see you be this vulnerable. Of course, there were moments in your life that were worse, and he was there for all of them, but knowing he was the reason for your feelings broke him more than rejection ever could.

“And I will continue being good to you,” he assures you before you can continue. “I can’t imagine the feeling of… why did you keep liking me? You’ve seen my worst, have been the target of my jokes and I’ve never even looked your way like that, it–”

“You’re smart, so incredibly smart you learned a new language when you were ten just because you wanted your dad to have the job he always wanted, despite the fact you missed your friends and hometown. You care about people and make them feel welcome around you, always doing your best to be nice to everyone unless they’ve done something. You’re confident, funny, talented, and absolutely beautiful,” he says without any hesitation, his words pure, full of sincerity, and it feels like he heals a part of you you didn’t know was broken. “But most importantly, you bring out the best of me. You make me come out of my shell, you help me when I’m lost, and you never for a second doubt me. I don’t think there’s a reason why I wouldn’t have fallen for you.”

Your grip tightens around your own glass of soda, his words ringing in your ears over and over again. You couldn’t recall a single time any of your exes would have said anything just remotely close to what he just did. He’s been there all along, so perfect and in love with you, and still, you managed to look through him.

His hand reaches for yours from across the table, giving it a gentle squeeze so you look up at him. When you do, there’s a smile on his face, the same one you’ve only seen him give you over the years—a smile meant just for you.

It’s the same smile that makes you realize the past isn’t what’s important right now. It’s the fact you’re here now, on a date with your best friend, finally seeing him. And you plan on making the most out of it.

Once you both finish eating, it’s only a matter of time before you leave. Soobin offers to pay for your meal and you let him, lacing your fingers with his as you step outside. You don’t need to say more, falling into a soft rhythm as you walk through campus hand in hand. It feels nice. And every little smile exchange makes you look forward to how this is going to continue.

“Come closer,” you urge, eyeing Soobin up and down as he sits down a full seat over on the couch. He turns his head to face you, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. Still, he listens, moving to sit right beside you, his arm draping around your shoulders when you lean to rest on his side. “What did I tell you? You don’t have to hold back,” you tilt your head slightly to look at him and he nods. “It’ll be better after a few days.”

It’s a quiet promise that makes you smile. You turn your attention back to the Tv as the first episode of jujutsu kaisen starts playing. After getting back home, you’ve all eaten dinner together and then Ryan disappeared off to his room with his nose basically pressed to his phone. You wanted to question him about it but before you could, Soobin’s hand gently rested around your waist and he asked if you wanted to watch the movie you mentioned earlier. You had no choice but to leave Ryan’s mysteries for another day.

Once the movie was over and half of the snacks you brought for it were eaten, Soobin begged you to rewatch jujutsu kaisen with him, claiming that it was life changing. You realized at that moment, you can’t say no to him.

So now, you were stuck by his side, watching a show about a teenager eating fingers instead of going to school.

“Have you ever thought about the fact you and Beomgyu are like Itadori and Megumi?” You wonder, snacking on a bag of chips while watching the two interact. Soobin raises an eyebrow. “Who am I supposed to be in this incredibly wrong scenario?” He sounds almost offended and you have to sit up because of how oblivious he is. Funny, isn’t it?

“Megumi, obviously.”

He scoffs, glancing at the screen. “Megumi is the most boring character there is.” Your eyes widen. Now it’s you who is offended. “He’s my favorite,” there’s a small pout on your lips that makes Soobin close his mouth immediately, slowly regretting ever saying anything. “He reminds me of you.”

He opens his mouth before shutting it again, realizing there isn’t much to save the situation. Megumi really wasn’t his favorite, but what was he supposed to do when you said you liked him because he reminded you of him? “I’d rather you be Itadori then,” he mumbles.

Your eyes light up again, a winning smirk spread across your face. You move to lay on him again so you can continue watching, this time resting your head in his lap and occupying the rest of the couch with your legs. He blinks a few times, just watching you for a second before brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, carefully caressing your head and playing with your hair, slowly shifting his attention to the show playing.

He’s not sure when you manage to fall asleep but when he looks at you to ask about what you think of the fight scene happening, he sees your eyes closed and lips slightly parted, your breathing steady. He smiles, lowering the volume of the Tv before grabbing his phone and sending a quick text to Ryan, asking him to bring a blanket over since he can’t stand up right now.

“She fell asleep?” Ryan wonders as he comes out of his room, phone in one hand, the other carrying the blanket. Soobin turns his head to face him, nodding. “Yeah. Thanks, I would have gotten it myself but I don’t want to wake her up.”

“All good,” he shakes his head, lingering a little longer than probably necessary, eyeing the two of you on the couch, simply just happy that this is how you get to spend your evenings from now on. Soobin notices, raising his eyebrow confusedly. “Do you have a problem with anything?” His words come out harsher than expected, making Ryan’s eyes widen.

“Why would I have a problem with anything?”

“Don’t know. Maybe you’re jealous,” I would be. He doesn’t finish the sentence, he doesn’t need to because Ryan is already pressing a hand in front of his mouth in order to not wake you up with his laugh. “It looks like you’re the one being jealous,” he laughs, glancing from Soobin to your sleeping form again. He thinks of it as a joke, convinced there’s no way Soobin would actually think he’s being jealous over him, but as his eyes scan his expression, he figures that’s not the case.

“And you’re completely serious right now,” his eyes widening at the realization. “God, you think we have anything going on between us? I was the one who helped her figure out the possibility of being with you.”

Soobin doesn’t say anything, just watching him, observing. He doesn’t understand. Ryan was possibly the only other boy who’s seen parts of you you didn’t show to other people, the same parts he fell in love with. He saw you in your prettiest dress and even though Soobin was too gagged to look anywhere but on you, he just assumed Ryan looked at you the same way. Because to him, it was crazy that any boy wouldn’t want you.

Ryan hesitates for a second, rethinking the whole situation before sighing. “Really, there is absolutely nothing you have to worry about when it comes to us. There’s a better chance of Jisoo getting with her before I do.” Soobin’s expression doesn’t change and so he continues. “Remember my last date?” The question makes Soobin frown, unsure what that has to do with anything.

“A boy,” he admits, his heart feeling heavier as he puts himself out there. “But I’m not–” his throat tightens when the words come out. Except for you, there was no one else he’s told. No one who he would trust enough to share the information with. “No one else knows so don’t–”

“I won’t,” Soobin assures him quickly when he catches the change in his tone of voice, his built up jealousy and insecurity slowly fading away as he realizes how incredibly wrong he’s been all along. Of course, that’s why you said it was complicated when he asked if there weren’t a bunch of girls who liked him. He feels stupid. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s…whatever,” he mumbles, suddenly awkward. He needs to get away as soon as possible. “If anything just…text me again, I guess.” Soobin opens his mouth to answer but before he can do so, Ryan is already on his way back to his room, not looking back again. Soobin sighs, running a hand through his hair as he looks down on you. “I’m an idiot, huh?” He mumbles, beginning to play with your hair gently again. “Petty, jealous, idiot.”

You hum in your sleep, shifting slightly which only makes him chuckle. “Looks like you agree.”

Your neck hurts when you stir awake. You rub your eyes with the back of your hand, whining quietly. Blinking a few times, you get your eyes to focus again. They widen immediately when you see Soobin’s head resting against the back of the couch, sleeping. You turn to the side, the Tv turned off already and the coffee table just like you left it before falling asleep—full of half eaten snacks and empty bags. You slowly sit up, careful not to wake him up. He looks peaceful, his lips parted, a bit of saliva rolling down his chin. You chuckle. He’s cute.

You clean up the mess on the table, humming quietly to a song currently playing in your head. You’re not sure how long you’ve been asleep for but when you’re done with everything and check your phone, it’s already two am.

You come back to the couch, gently pressing your hand on Soobin’s shoulder. “Binnie,” you coo softly, watching him hum in his sleep as he shifts slightly. You smile, you never stop smiling when you’re with him. “You should sleep in your bed,” you say, hoping to wake him up. His eyes open for a second but you’re not sure if he even sees you because they close immediately after, his hand finding yours almost on an instinct. You yelp in surprise when he pulls you closer and you fall on to his lap. “Five more minutes,” he mumbles, wrapping his arms around you. You doubt if he even knows what he’s doing.

Or maybe he knows exactly what he’s doing. That might be the better scenario.

“Soobin,” you coo again, kissing his cheek gently. “Let’s go to bed. This can’t be comfortable.” You kiss his nose, then forehead, gently squeezing his shoulder again. This time, it actually works and he opens his eyes, blinking a few times to make sense of the situation. “What’s going…” Before he can finish his question, you place another kiss on his forehead. “Let’s go to bed, it’s late.”

“Will you stay with me?” He asks, his voice a bit hoarse from the sleep. Your eyes widen in surprise, just for a second, before they soften. You cup his cheek, smiling. “Yeah. Yeah, I will,” you nod. His grip tightens around your waist, his head falling to your shoulder as he inhales your scent.

If this is how he gets every time he is sleepy, you hope he never gets the rest he deserves.

“Come on,” you get up, holding his hand as you force him up on his feet as well. His fingers lace with yours, following you tiredly as you guide the way to his room. He accidentally kicks the couch on his way but you don’t say anything, chuckling quietly.

“I’ll change to my pajamas and will be right back, okay?” You turn to him when you reach his room. He nods slowly, his hand falling back to his side. He opens the door, lingering for a second. “You’ll come, right?” You smile again, assuring him you will before leaving to your own room.

When you get to Soobin’s room again, he’s sitting on his bed in his pajamas. “Aren’t you tired?” You ask, closing the door behind you. He looks up, extending his arms towards you to come in. “Yeah, but I was waiting for you.” You close the gap between you, standing between his legs as his arms settle on your thighs, fingertips digging into your flesh. He looks up at you and your heart immediately skips a beat. “You’re pretty,” he mumbles, his hand carefully sliding up to the hem of your shorts. You blush at his words, “I didn’t know you were so needy when you’re tired,” you whisper, chuckling.

He hums, and when his hands move to your ass, you sit on his lap again, running a hand through his hair. “When I told you to be like this earlier you couldn’t even look me in the eyes,” you tease him and he just grumbles. “What is it, baby?”

“You’re here,” is all he says before kissing your jaw. “I don’t want to hold back when you’re right here.” His words echo in your ears and without a second of hesitation, you kiss him. He leans back with you, his arms resting on your waist as he lays down, his back pressed against the mattress. “Just for the night,” he mumbles in between kisses. “Let me want you a bit more.”

Your breath shakes as you grind on top of him, looking for any sign of discomfort. A soft, shaky whine escapes his lips and his grip tightens. “Is this okay?” He nods, his eyes closed, refusing to look at you. “Soobin,” you whisper, feeling him harden under you as you grind once more. “Look at me.”

His eyes flutter open, scanning your face carefully before his gaze drops to where your bodies meet. “Is this okay?” You ask once more, this time getting a proper response. “More than okay,” he assures you, watching you move on top of him. His breathing is anything but steady, his eyes glued to your body as if you’d disappear if he even just as blinked. “I don’t–” his voice breaks in half when you sit directly on his tip, your shorts clinging to your body as you rub yourself on top of him. “I’m not sure what to do.”

“It’s okay,” you nod, understanding. “You don’t have to do anything. Let’s just feel good, hm?” He nods, his hands carefully sliding up your thighs. He can do that. He can stop overthinking it and just enjoy the moment, as long as he’s with you.

His hands slowly wander under your shirt, keeping his eyes on you to check if he’s not overstepping as he cups your breast. You bite your bottom lip, nodding slightly to him. You let him squeeze your breast, let him explore what his touch does to you. He watches every reaction, every muffled moan that leaves your lips, and every move of your hips. You never stop rubbing yourself on him and with each passing second, he feels like he is about to explode.

Leaning down again, you crash your lips with his in a hungry kiss. He doesn’t hesitate kissing you back and pulling you closer, if that’s even possible. He thrusts his hips up on instinct, a soft whimper escaping his lips. “Wai– Wait, fuck,” he curses, looking at his wet pants and your shorts. Mistake, he realizes. Seeing the mess you managed to create already only makes it harder for him not to cum in his pants.

You slide your hand under his shirt, tracing the line of his abs slowly before moving down to his waistband, glancing up at him for approval. “Please,” he nods, prompting himself up on his elbows as he watches you. You move aside, biting your bottom lip as you give his hard on a squeeze through the pants before pulling them down. Fuck. Soobin was tall, you knew that, of course, but you didn’t expect him to be packing down there so much as well.

“Have you thought about me before? While jerking off?” You watch his ears turn red, figuring that’s a yes. You squeeze your thighs together, eyes flickering between his cock, abs, and face. In the ideal world, you could ride all of them. “Want to show me?”

Soobin sits with his eyes glued to your body, his right hand wrapped around his cock, moving up and down in slow motion. You sit opposite him, your legs spread apart, pajama clothes somewhere on the floor, long forgotten by then, and your chest on full display. “What else did you think about?” You ask, watching his eyes scan your naked body.

His eyes fall down to your fingers on your clit, swallowing a lump in his throat. “I– Your boobs,” he admits slowly, avoiding looking you in the eyes from embarrassment. “Kissing them, holding them, uhm,” he bites down his moan as the image clouds his mind, his cock twitching in his hand and breath shaking. “About how you’d look if…if we were…”

“Yeah?” You can see that he’s close to finishing, barely able to speak without moaning or whimpering. It was hot.

“My imagination has nothing on reality,” he mumbles, curses slipping past his lips as he watches you finger yourself, his hips thrusting into his hand with more force than before. You smirk, “that good?” He nods, opening his mouth to say something, but before he can do so, you pull out your fingers and bring them to his mouth.

He knows he should feel embarrassed. He probably looks like a teenage boy who’s never touched a woman in his life—which he wouldn’t be far from actually—when he reaches his orgasm as soon as his lips wrap around your fingers, but he can’t seem to care. Not when you taste this good, not when you’re looking at him as if it was the most attractive thing you’ve ever seen.

“Can I..?” He asks with the biggest puppy eyes possible and even though you don’t know what he’s asking for, you nod. He moves closer to you, spreading your legs more before his hand caresses your thighs, slowly making his way to your core. His fingers replace yours, rubbing your clit the same way he watched you do so moments ago. You moan under his touch, guiding his hand lower and giving him a reassuring nod before he inserts two of his fingers into your hole. His fingers are longer than yours, without a doubt, and it shows. “Just like that, fuck, exactly there,” your eyes roll back when he hits your spot, listening to your moans as he pumps his fingers into you.

Soobin closes the distance between you, his free hand cupping your cheek as he kisses you again while his other hand brings you to your orgasm, muffling every one of your moans with his lips. “Was that okay?” He asks, the nervousness in his voice obvious. You giggle, your breathing heavy as you press your forehead to his. “You’re doing amazing,” you nod. “Absolutely fucking amazing.”

He giggles with you, exhaling in relief. He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear and kisses you again, this time with less need but much more affection, hoping you can feel all the years he’s spent loving you from afar coming up on the surface.

The following days became easier. You watched the nervousness and wariness in his eyes slowly change into something comfortable and familiar. He stopped being so hesitant, greeting you with a kiss every morning as if you were an old couple, holding your hand when you walked around campus, and taking you out on dates any chance he got. It was nice, and you could feel your heart skipping a beat every time his gaze lingered on you even a second longer than necessary.

You could see yourself growing old with those eyes.

“What are you hiding?” Soobin comes into the kitchen just as you’re leaning over the counter, a teasing grin on your face and Ryan a few steps beside you, smiling at his phone. He could recognize that smile from miles away, it was the same one he had for years on his face when he talked to you.

“I’m not hiding anything,” he says, way too quickly to your liking. “You’re trying to see things where they’re not.”

“What’s going on?” Soobin asks, wrapping his arm around your waist. You straighten your back and he immediately rests his head on your shoulder, watching Ryan with a spark of curiosity. His eyes flicker between the two of you, hating that it was so easy for you to see right through him. “Nothing’s going on, alright? Can’t I text people?”

You frown. “I never said you can’t. But you’ve been texting someone for ages and it makes me wonder why you haven’t told me anything about it.” Soobin can almost hear the pout in your voice and places a soft kiss on your shoulder. “Because I told you I’m not dating again. It’s just a friend, and I don’t see a reason why I should tell you I have a new friend.”

“You don’t have to close yourself off for everyone because one date didn’t go right,” Soobin meets his eyes and Ryan swallows everything he wanted to say when he hits a soft spot. This was nowhere close to how he wanted his evening to look like. “Didn’t you say you were going to stream tonight?” The question comes out harsher than intended but before he can apologize, Soobin nods slightly. “Yeah, I am,” he agrees, giving Ryan one last look of sympathy before turning to you. “Want to join me?”

You blink, glancing between your two roommates. You want to stay, ask Ryan more and assure him that whatever he set his mind on is stupid, but you can see how tired he is of this conversation. It’s obvious he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore and you know when to stop minding other people’s business, even if they’re your best friend. “Yeah, sure, let’s go,” you nod. Soobin catches the sigh that leaves your lips but doesn’t comment on it, lacing his fingers with yours instead and leading you to his room.

“You can’t be mad at him for keeping in,” Soobin says, sitting down on his gaming chair and extending his arms for you to come in. You hum, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you stand between his legs. “I know, and I’m not. I just… I don’t want him to deal with everything on his own.” His hands slide up the back of your thighs, a pitiful smile on his lips.

“I’ll talk to him later, okay? Maybe he’ll tell me something,” he offers, bringing your hand to his face and kissing your knuckles. “Don’t beat yourself over it. He’ll tell you about it when he’s ready.”

You nod, sitting on his lap with your hands on his shoulder. “Have I told you you’re absolutely amazing yet?” He chuckles, closing the space between you and pressing his lips to yours in a tender kiss. “You can tell me that as many times you want,” he smiles into the kiss, a soft giggle escaping your lips.

“What’s the plan tonight?” You wonder when you pull back. He turns on the chair, his arm wrapped around your waist as he turns his PC on. When he types in his password and you notice it being your birthday, you can’t help but smile, your cheeks turning pink as you lean into his chest. “Phasmophobia,” he says, showing you the game. You watch his screen as he explains some of the rules of the game with the gameplay, nodding quietly. You let him talk, listening to his every word. It’s honestly attractive. It’s not like he’s doing much, but it’s enough.

“Yeonjun hasn’t played it yet and we were thinking of texting Kai to join us but if you want, we can connect your laptop and you could play with us instead?” He turns his head to you, his face mare inches away from yours. You blink, shaking your head, “you said you haven’t played with Kai in a long time, you shouldn’t exclude him just because of me.”

“I want to play with you,” he states firmly. “You should know by now I’d choose you over the boys any time.” If you were blushing before, you must look like a tomato right now. Before he can say anything else and send you into a spiral, you kiss him again, your hand on his neck as you pull him close. He doesn’t take long to catch up, pushing his tongue between your lips and deepening the kiss, his fingers digging into your waist. “You’re too good to me,” you whisper.

“You’re the one too good to me. I’m just treating you as anyone you’ve ever given a chance to should have.”

“You should be a poet instead,” you mumble, averting your gaze from him. You know he’s about to say something more, but he’s interrupted by an incoming call on discord, the screen flashing with The Choi’s group chat. Thank God, honestly. Whatever he wanted to say would probably make your heart race faster than it already does and you don’t need a heart attack right now.

You accept the call, the first thing you hear being Beomgyu’s grumble. “We’ll have to use walkie talkies in the game, why are we starting a call here?” Soobin chuckles quietly, leaning forward and resting his chin on your shoulder, clicking through something on his screen. “He’s new to the game, cut him some slack,” he says and you catch a faint curse on the other side, assuming it must be from Yeonjun.

“Whatever, who cares. Is everyone ready now? Can I text Kai? He might be asleep though, he said something about pulling an all-nighter the night before and feeling like passing out when I talked to him earlier.” As soon as Yeonjun finishes his question, Soobin turns his head to look at you again, looking for an answer in your eyes. You nod slightly, his smile widening immediately.

“Don’t bother. I have our fourth player. She’s sitting on my lap as we speak.”

It wasn’t a secret to any of your friends that you and Soobin were something now. Apparently, they knew so even before you did. Soobin looked terrified when Beomgyu told you a few days ago that he’s glad he finally had the balls to ask you out because it was getting annoying having to listen to him enthuse about how in love with you he was. All you could do at the moment was laugh. Then, after Beomgyu left, you showered Soobin in kisses on his bed and he promised to tell you how in love he is more often if that’s what he gets in return. He was adorable.

The two boys greet you immediately, asking about how your day was and if Soobin is being annoying. It makes you chuckle because he is anything but. You talk with them for a bit, Soobin’s hands still wrapped around you and hugging you tightly. You love moments like these.

You’re not sure how much time passes but eventually, you leave to get your laptop while Soobin prepares his stream, his camera and microphone already on when you come back. You place the laptop on his bed—which is also the place you agreed on sitting before even though it wasn’t exactly ideal to be in the same room while using walkie talkies—and join his side, greeting his chat with a smile.

In the blink of an eye, the comments change from simple hello’s and questions about what the plane for today is into more personal ones—mostly about your relationship. A few people ask about your name, new fans you assume, but most of the people are asking if the rumors are true and you truly are dating. It was kind of obvious by now. Just a few days earlier, Soobin made a new post on his instagram with pictures from an actual date you had. They were cute, and made it into your highlights as well.

He turns his head to you, not answering any of their questions. A sign of the same vulnerability you saw almost every day at the beginning flickers in his eyes, the question hanging in the air. You know which one made him like this. Are you two dating? You haven’t put a label on anything, didn’t think it was needed, but when your eyes meet his, and you see the hope in them, you want a label more than ever before.

You smile, a gentle, soft one that always makes him calmer and turn towards the camera. “You got us,” you nod. “We are dating. But no, he does not fall into the streamer stereotypes and does shower every day, so I’m not in any danger,” you laugh, briefly glancing at Soobin. He looks puzzled, but his expression lasts less than a second, immediately being replaced with excitement and a hint of relief.

“Wouldn’t want to stink near my beautiful girlfriend,” he grins and you have to roll your eyes at how cheeky he sounds. You shake your head at him, but the smile on your face never disappears. “Get your game ready, pretty boy. I don’t have the whole night for you.” He cocks his head to you, a teasing smirk on his face as he mouths “you sure?” at you. You fight the urge to throw a pillow at him.

“What on Earth are they doing?” You laugh, watching Beomgyu and Yeonjun move their characters in the lobby, getting into some weird positions they definitely wouldn’t be able to recreate in real life. Soobin laughs with you, shaking his head. He was playing around with settings now, trying to convince you to go on pro mode. Neither Yeonjun nor you knew if that was something you wanted to jump into but thankfully (or possibly unfortunately) you had Beomgyu on your side, arguing with Soobin immediately that you weren’t ready and it would end up with him being alive alone again.

“Everyone get ready,” Soobin commands, your earlier laugh replaced with a chuckle immediately. “Yes, captain,” you joke, and even though you see him rolling his eyes, you also notice the smile that tugs at the corner of his lips.

Soobin helps you out during the game a lot, always walking around beside you so you don’t stay anywhere alone and don’t get yourself killed, reminding you what certain keys do, and working with you on figuring out what kind of a ghost you’re dealing with. Anyone new joining his stream probably doesn’t even know Beomgyu and Yeonjun are in the game as well. You barely know of their presence yourself.

After three successful rounds, Soobin finally convinced you to play on pro mode, still staying by your side as he ran around, trying to figure out the ghost’s spawn place. Yeonjun walked right behind you, holding a camera in his hands while Beomgyu stayed in the van, laughing his ass off as he watched you through Yeonjun’s camera. It slowly turned into Soobin continuously telling him to do something and him arguing that you had it all covered already. It had Soobin grumbling and his chat laughing.

You played for two hours and half until Beomgyu had to leave—a date as Soobin informed you earlier—and you all decided to call it a day. You stretch out on the bed, pushing the heating laptop off your legs. Soobin leans back in his chair once his computer is turned off, turning to face you. “Had fun tonight?”

You smile, nodding. You open your arms and he doesn’t hesitate getting up from his place and making his way over to you, plopping down on top of you. You giggle, bringing him down to kiss him. “So much fun,” you answer, wrapping your arms behind his neck.

“You were so pretty,” he praises, placing a soft kiss to your nose. “I wanted to kiss you every time you gave me that clueless pout,” he whispers, this time leaving a kiss on your cheek. You giggle, cupping his cheeks and making him look at you. “Kiss me twice as much now then.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, already claiming your lips. He wraps his hands behind your back, keeping you as close as possible until he decides to change positions, his lips never leaving yours as he sits down and helps you onto his lap. His hand moves up to your neck, thumb brushing your cheek as he deepens the kiss. He could go like this all day if he could.

You run a hand through his hair, forcing him to pull back when you tug at a few of his strands. He groans, eyes meeting yours. You bite back a moan yourself when you look at him, every sane thought you had until now disappearing out of the window when he looks up at you like that. “Love,” he whispers, his hands trailing down your sides until he makes it under your shirt. “Yes, baby?” You smile innocently, pretending that his touch doesn’t send shivers throughout your whole body.

“You’re beautiful.” You learnt to accept his compliments after some time (because you’re not sure if there has been a day in which he wouldn’t compliment you in some way) but they still worked on you every time, making you blush. His hands move to your back again, unclipping your bra with ease. You help him get your shirt off, your bra following right after. He smiles, one of his hands cupping your breast and rolling your nipple between his fingers while the other settles on your waist. You can’t even blink before his mouth meets your other boob, his tongue circling your nipple.

You run your hand through his hair again, a soft whine escaping your lips as you grind on him from the pleasure. He glances at you briefly, and when he sees your eyes closed, the moans that leave your lips showing him just how much you’re enjoying yourself, he sucks harder, taking his sweet time with each of your breasts.

“Baby,” you whine, rolling your hips against his. He finally pulls away, meeting your eyes with a playful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Please.”

Your back presses against the mattress, your boyfriend hovering on top of you and kissing his way down your body. Once his mouth reaches your pants, he tugs them down slowly, kissing your inner thigh. You open your legs for him without hesitation, causing a groan to leave his lips. He settles himself between your legs, kissing his way up from your thigh to your clit. “Just a small taste,” he begs, sucking on your clit the same way he sucked on your nipple moments ago.

It’s been days of exploring each other’s bodies, finding out what pleasures the other and what doesn’t. It took some time, but he’d like to say he knows how to get you off without any problems now, one of those things being your newly discovered obsession with riding his nose.

And what kind of a boyfriend would he be if he didn’t give you the opportunity to do so?

Soobin presses his nose against your clit, his tongue pushing past your folds. Your moans fill the room shortly after, even if you try to keep it down so as not to disturb your roommate, gripping the sheets on your side. You roll your hips against him, your eyes rolling back when his tongue enters your hole. As if that wasn’t enough on its own, his fingers dig into your thighs, keeping you where he wants so he controls all of your pleasure.

“Wa–Wait,” you gasp, your orgasm building in your stomach faster than you can comprehend. He simply hums against you, not bothering with looking up as he licks you. “So pretty,” he mumbles again, sucking on your clit. You gasp, finding his hair with your fingers and trying to tug him away from you, your legs closing simultaneously.

Fortunately, he only pulls back once you reach your orgasm, finishing on his mouth. He licks his lips clean, smiling. “You,” your breath catches and you’re not even sure what you want to say. Did so fucking good? Were absolutely amazing? Take better care of me than anyone else?

“It’s okay,” he coos, coming up to kiss you. He brushes your hair from your face gently, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “You can do one more, right?” You don’t answer, you can’t. All you can think about is, where did you even learn all that?

But you know the answer. From you. Everything he knows, he’s learnt from you, because he wanted to. He learnt how to talk, when the right time to kiss you is, where to press at times, and how to be a good mix of someone who could—and wanted—to please you, and the same person he was before who didn’t even know a handful of positions.

His thumb gently circles your clit, causing a few whines to leave your lips. He keeps his eyes on you, waiting for your answer. Even though you told him before it was okay to overstimulate you sometimes, he didn’t need to do so. He was glad he could make you feel good, even if it means having to take care of his throbbing cock alone in the bathroom.

But you wouldn’t let that happen, slowly nodding. “Yeah,” you breathe out. “I can take one more.” He smiles, pressing another kiss to your lips before getting his clothes off, too busy admiring your naked body to look where they ended up after he threw them to the floor.

Soobin rubs his cock between your folds, his eyes glued to your body. “Wanna go raw?” you offer and his eyes immediately widen. He has condoms, somewhere in his top drawer of his desk, but at the moment, he completely forgot about something like protection, his mind too occupied with different thoughts. “Can I?” He looks up and you smile, nodding.

“Fuck,” he curses, aligning himself slowly. He looks up once more for reassurance and when you chuckle, telling him it’s okay, he thrusts his tip in, giving you some time to adjust before he slaps his hips with yours. You gasp immediately, your moans coming out broken as he starts moving.

Soobin’s soft praises mixed with his groans fill your ears, your eyes rolling back as his fingers lace with yours and he slows down again, hitting just the right spot. At that moment, even though your head is empty, one singular thought manages to pop up. I love you, Soobin.

You don’t say anything though, holding his hand with your mouth wide open and head thrown back. Yeah, he is good.

His thrusts turn sloppy, his energy slowly dying out as he reaches his climax. You came just seconds ago with his name falling from your lips as if you were a broken record and now it was finally his turn. You wrap your legs behind his back, keeping him in place and making sure he doesn’t even think about pulling out. You need to feel him filling you up, showing you you’re his. And he’ll gladly do so.

“Shit,” he gasps, squeezing your hand tighter as he finishes, his eyes wide. “Fuck– That was so good.” You giggle, relaxing your legs again and trying to catch your breath. He curses again when he pulls out of you and hears you whine, fighting himself not to get hard again. He lays down beside you, dropping his arm around your stomach and pulling you flush against his body.

“I love you,” he mumbles, just like he has many times before. But this time, it’s different after all. Because this time, you can say it back.

“I love you too, baby,” you whisper, sealing the words with a kiss.

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#cams!bookshelf #ily izzy

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cherrywriterrr · 2 days ago

Text

mistake(rebound) r.c

✵ pairing: friend!rafe turned ex hookup x reader

✵ warnings: angst angst, very sad:(happy ending tho, fluff too, kissing, not really edited!!!!mentions of hooking up, smoking, language, drinking, etc. pls lmk what i’ve missed!!!

✵ words: 11k??

✵ first part second last part

his car slows down like it’s afraid of you. and then it stops. right there in front of your corner. the headlights cut off, and for a second you just see the silhouette, rafe leaning forward, squinting through the windshield like he’s not even sure you’re real.

he opens the window halfway. his voice, low,like a half choked breath “hi… uh—hello. get—get in?”

you don’t even hesitate. you’re barefoot in slippers and wearing a t shirt that used to be his, but you open the door and slide in like it’s second nature. like you haven’t avoided him for weeks. like he didn’t come out of a bathroom with brianna fucking someone at tpper’s party.

the door shuts. you swallow. he smells like perfume and cigarette ash, like the boy you tried to forget but never could. you keep your eyes ahead, on the dash, on the glowing red clock that says 1:59am like it’s counting down to your destruction.

“i—fuck,” you say, exhaling like you’ve been holding it in for a month. “i don’t even know why i asked you here.”

he shifts beside you, but says nothing. just watches you. just waits.

you laugh dry, sharp. “i mean, we didn’t even talk for weeks. and i’m dating nate. i’m dating someone, rafe. i’m…”

your voice cracks under the weight of it “this was a mistake. god, this was such a fucking mistake.”

you start reaching for the door handle like maybe you’ll escape this moment if you move fast enough. like maybe your slippers will carry you to safety but then he says it. quiet. broken. reverent “you still wear my shirt.”

you freeze. you don’t look at him. because if you do, you’ll see that look—the one that made you stay the night. the one that made you block him to save yourself. the one that made it feel like maybe he actually felt something too.

your hands curl in your lap, you whisper, “shut up.”

he doesn’t “you called me,” he says, softer now. “not him.”

he whispers again, steady this time—too steady, the kind of calm that makes your throat go dry “you didn’t call me here for nothing.”

you press your lips together, like that’ll stop everything rising up your chest. he says it again, lower. “you didn’t.”

you close your eyes. “rafe—”

“you’re clearly thinking about me,” he cuts in, more desperate now, “as much as i’m thinking of you. i know it. i fucking know it.”

“but fuck” your voice cracks. “i’m with nate.”

he flinches at the name.

“and you—” you turn now, finally, facing him. and the words fly out like venom. “you’re fucking brianna, rafe.”

his expression twists, like you slapped him. then “we didn’t do anything.”

you stare at him. he shakes his head, jaw clenched, voice shaky now. “me and brianna. nothing happened.”

you squint, watching his face carefully, because this, you need to know. you need to see it. if there’s any trace of bullshit, of a lie curling around his lips, you’ll smell it from a mile away. you know him like that. but he just looks at you like he’s being flayed alive. his hand fists on the gear shift. “i wanted to. fuck—i’m so dumb. but i did want to. i wanted to forget.”

your pulse spikes. he swallows, like the words are hard to chew.“but the moment i looked at her and saw her face—and not yours…” he trails off. his voice breaks. “i—I couldn’t.”

you blink. “what do you mean?”

he lets out this soft, bitter laugh, one that makes your heart twist because it’s so rafe—so dry and sharp and soaked in regret “well, shit. this is fucking embarrassing.”

you wait. he leans his head back against the headrest, stares up at the car ceiling like he wishes it would crush him “my dick went limp,” he says. “that’s what i mean.”

your eyes widen.

rafe doesn’t even look at you, just laughs again. “couldn’t even pretend. literally couldn’t. like my body was rejecting her on instinct. just—shut off.” he shrugs, almost like he’s mocking himself. “guess it doesn’t work unless it’s you.”

your breath catches, his voice is quieter now. “feels like that’s just how i’m built now. like i’m wired for you.”

the air in the car feels suffocating suddenly. too hot. too heavy. you stare at him, lips parted, still clutching your thighs like they might hold you together.

he finally turns his head to look at you. “i’m sorry,” he says. “for everything.”

you don’t say anything. you’re not sure if you can.

he keeps going, like he has to spill it all now or combust “i fucked it up. i know. i made you think you were just—just some quick fuck i could forget.” he looks away again, jaw tight. “but you weren’t. you aren’t.”

you whisper, “rafe.”

“i know i don’t deserve you back,” he says, eyes locked on the dash now, voice brittle and tired. “but i couldn’t not come. you texted and my body moved before my brain could even think about it.”

he pauses, then meets your eyes again “why did you text me?”

you’re silent. the question hangs like fog between you. you can’t answer. when everything you’ve been trying to bury is now clawing its way up your throat.

you snap. you don’t mean to. not really. but something in your chest cracks under the weight of it all. the spiraling, the silence, the look on his face like he’s waiting to be told he’s the villain again, so it comes out like fire “fuck, yes—okay?!” your voice trembles. “i asked you here because i can’t stop thinking about you. you’re right. you’re right. you happy now?”

your words echo in the car like a gunshot. you don’t mean for them to sound so mean, but they do. they’re soaked in panic. guilt. that itchy kind of honesty that feels like peeling off skin.

rafe doesn’t flinch. he just looks at you. quiet. blinking slow. then “fuck…” his voice is low, almost stunned. “no.”

you pause, breathing shallow.

he shifts in his seat, looks like he’s about to break “i’m not happy,” he says. “you’re not happy, so why the fuck would i be?”

you look at him, eyes wide and glassy, trying to figure out what the hell that means. why it hurts so much. why it feels like he’s saying the things you didn’t even let yourself admit in your own head “i don’t…” your words falter. “i don’t know what to do, rafe.”

he watches you. you rub your hands over your face, voice cracking again. “nate’s nice. he’s—fuck, he really is. he’s good. he’s good to me. he doesn’t make me feel like I’m falling off the edge of something all the time—” you bite down the rest of it. you can’t look at rafe. not when the truth feels this raw on your tongue. you whisper, “i feel safe with him.”

rafe’s quiet. still. like he doesn’t want to move in case you disappear. then, softly “but you’re thinking about me anyway.”

you clench your jaw.

he lets out a bitter exhale, like it hurts. like it comforts him and kills him at once “that’s the worst part, isn’t it?” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “you’ve got someone safe. someone sweet. someone who probably sees the world in you… but you still called me.”

you sink lower into the passenger seat, pressing your back into the headrest like you can melt away into the fabric, vanish, disappear from this moment and the thousand feelings clawing up your throat “i don’t know why i feel this way,” you whisper, almost ashamed to admit it, voice barely there. “it was supposed to be nothing. just a hookup.”

the word feels ugly now. cheap. you glance sideways at him—at the boy who ruined you by being the one person you never expected to need this much. and rafe—he laughs. it’s bitter, hollow, the kind of sound that’s almost not a laugh at all “yeah,” he mutters. “i know. that’s all i’m good for, right?”

your stomach sinks “rafe…”

but he won’t look at you now, eyes locked on the steering wheel, jaw tense, hands gripping his thighs like he’s keeping himself from combusting “i’m not nate,” he says, and his voice is low and clipped, like the words taste sour in his mouth. “i’m not sweet. i’m not safe. i’m not whatever the fuck he is. the guy who says all the right shit, the guy who’s never fucked up, who probably brings you flowers and tells you how ‘grateful’ he is just to breathe your air.”

you don’t say anything, because…well. he’s not wrong.

but then he turns, finally meeting your gaze, and something in his eyes is wrecked. vulnerabl in a way that makes you ache “i wanted to be,” he says. “for you.”

your heart twists “but you weren’t,” you say softly, not to hurt him, just to speak the truth. “you weren’t that for me, rafe. not then.”

he nods once. like he already knew. like he agrees “i know,” he says, voice rough. “i know i wasn’t. i didn’t know how. but fuck, i tried. i gave you my weekends. my time. i gave you me in every way i knew how. and yeah, i wasn’t perfect. but i never meant for it to feel like nothing.”

you flinch, because that’s what you told yourself over and over again to cope: that it was just sex. just tension. just a hookup. it had to be. anything more would’ve destroyed you. “you didn’t act like it meant anything,” you say.

and he looks at you like he’s about to cry “because i thought if i did,” he says slowly, “you’d run.”

you blink.

“i was scared, alright?” he adds. “scared i’d fuck it up. scared i wasn’t enough. and then nate came along, and he is enough. he’s everything i’m not. and when i saw you with him, i—fuck.” he exhales like he’s bleeding from the mouth “i wanted to tell you everything.”

you sit there frozen, hands in your lap, heart pounding like it wants out of your chest.

he runs a hand through his hair, frustrated and broken and helpless “he gets to be with you now,” rafe says, softer. “he gets the soft you. the real you. he gets your mornings and your dates and your goddamn affection. and i’m the fuckup who got your body once and then ruined it.”

you’re staring at him now, eyes wide, throat dry “you think that’s all you gave me?” you ask quietly.

he looks at you. you’re shaking, just a little. you barely notice “i smoked my first cigarette with you,” you say. “you bought us shitty vodka and we got drunk in your truck and you told me i was your favorite person. you. i believed you.”

rafe’s expression changes—melts, softens, splits at the seams “you were,” he says hoarsely. “you are.”

you’re still breathing hard, lips parted like another thousand confessions are waiting behind your teeth “i don’t want to feel this way about you,” you whisper.

he nods, gaze never leaving yours “i don’t want you to either,” he replies. “not if it hurts. not if it makes you second guess someone who actually treats you the way you deserve.”

silence swallows the car. you both sit in it. soaked in guilt, nostalgia, pain. affection too deep to erase. tension that crackles like lightning through your skin. and still, it’s not enough to pull you apart. not yet. because you’re both still here. still staring. still wanting.

your voice is quiet. soft. like if you speak any louder, it’ll shatter the moment completely “you think things would be different in another life?”

his eyes flicker to yours, and something in his chest cracks open.

the heat off, windows slightly fogged, the kind of stillness between you that vibrates. everything outside is quiet. no headlights passing. no breeze. just the world on pause and rafe cameron staring at you like he’s seeing his future and his past at the same time.

he lets out a small, dry laugh, like it hurts to smile “another life, huh?” he mutters, leaning his head back against the seat, eyes still on yours. “fuck, yeah. in another life, i wouldn’t be such a fucking coward.”

your heart jumps at how easily that slipped out of him.

he swallows, slow and hard. then he looks away for a second, gathering his words like they’re scattered glass “in another life,” he continues, “i would’ve held your hand and told everyone you were mine. not just when no one was looking.”

you breathe in sharply, like it physically hit you

rafe glances at you again, a little sideways this time. “i wouldn’t have let you walk away thinking you were just…just a good time. cause you were never that. not to me.”

you blink fast, because your throat is tight now. everything is “you would’ve shown up?” you ask, voice so small, so unsure

he nods once“every time. no hesitation.”

your eyes search his, and it’s terrifying how raw he looks. how soft. it’s still rafe—still a little rough around the edges, still a mess—but there’s no mask right now. just him cracked wide open in front of you.

he keeps talking, more gentle now “i’d have taken you to dinner like a real date. made you wear something cute, even though you’d show up in shorts and still look like a fuckin’ dream. i’d have kissed you in front of everyone. picked you up from your house just so your dad knew who you were with.”

you laugh quietly, sad and sweet “he would’ve hated you.”

rafe smiles. a real one this time. a little crooked, a little broken “yeah,” he says, “but he would’ve known i loved you.”

your breath hitches.

he stares at you, and there’s a pause. a beat where you think maybe you’re both going to explode from all this tenderness sitting between you

“what about me?” you whisper. “what would i have done in another life?”

rafe’s eyes darken slightly, but not in a bad way. more like he’s imagining it—really seeing it “you’d be happy,” he says. “not confused. not torn up about some other guy. you’d have your own toothbrush at my place and my shirt on in the morning and your stupid little playlist on loop even when you’re not there.”

you smile, wet and full of ache “you remembered my playlist?”

“i still have it.”

silence again. you can’t look away. neither can he “i think about it sometimes,” you admit, voice thick now. “if we met at the right time. if you had been just a little less scared and i had been a little less in denial.”

he nods slowly, eyes softening further “we could’ve been fucking unstoppable.”

you laugh through your tears. “we’d probably still fight all the time.”

“yeah,” he smirks, “but it would’ve ended in sex or pancakes.”

“or both.”

he chuckles low in his throat.

“you’d have loved me properly, huh?” you say it like a question. like a hope.

he stares at you, gaze unmoving, deadly serious “i would’ve worshipped the fuck out of you.”

and that? that undoes you. you can’t speak. can’t breathe. because here he is, right in front of you—telling you everything you used to dream he’d say. and it’s too late. or maybe it’s not. maybe it never really was. maybe it’s just you, torn in two by the sweetness of what could’ve been and the pain of what is.

you sit there for a moment longer, both of you completely silent. completely undone.

just two people in the wrong life. staring like maybe if you look hard enough, you’ll fall into a better one.

you say it before you can think better of it. before shame wraps around your throat and drags you back under. your voice breaks, and it sounds nothing like the version of yourself you show to other people. not the confident one, not the funny one, not the one who can pretend things are fine when they’re clearly not. not the one nate sees. this one is real. cracked open and pleading

“i’m scared,” you whisper. “i don’t know what to do, rafe. help me. please.”

the moment the words leave your mouth, the silence in the car shifts. it’s no longer heavy. it’s fragile. breathless. like even the air knows something’s about to give.

rafe freezes. his eyes lock on yours like they’re made of glass and you’ve just shattered them.

you’ve never asked him for help before. not like this.

he blinks a few times, like he’s trying to ground himself. his jaw tightens, then loosens again. slowly, carefully, he reaches out—his hand hovering between you, waiting for permission.

“you don’t have to figure it out right now,” he says, voice quiet but firm. “you don’t have to pick anything or anyone or—fuck, you don’t even have to explain it to me.”

his fingers barely graze your knee. grounding, warm “but i’m here,” he says. “i’m fucking here. and if you want me to help you, i will. no questions, no bullshit. just say it, and i’m yours.”

you look at him. god. his eyes. those eyes. like they were made to look at you like this. and maybe it’s not fair. maybe it’s selfish. maybe it’s cruel to nate and terrifying to you and dangerously close to everything you swore you wouldn’t do again. but it’s rafe.

and when he looks at you like that?it’s not just comfort. it’s not just lust. it’s not just old habits. it’s home.

so you nod, just a little. barely there.

his hand finds yours and holds it like it’s something precious. your voice cracks before you can even stop it, eyes dropping to your lap, hands still clasped in his like muscle memory. like instinct “nate will hate me,” you say, barely louder than a breath.

rafe squeezes your hand once, then lets go gently like he’s trying not to hurt you, even in the smallest way. his voice is tight when he says, “fuck. if you want nate, i won’t say anything. to anyone. that we met up tonight. i promise.”

you glance up at him. he’s not even looking at you. he’s staring out the windshield like it’s easier to pretend this is nothing.

he swallows hard and keeps going “if you’re happy,” he says, slower this time, voice hoarse, “i’m not standing in the way of that.”

you don’t even feel the tear slip until it lands on your thigh, soaking into the fabric of your oversized shirt. it surprises you—makes you laugh, but not like anything is funn

a sad little sound. fragile. worn “where’s the jealous rafe, hm?” you murmur, turning toward him. “what’d you do to my rafe?”

his head turns slowly. eyes meeting yours,blue and broken and still somehow soft. his mouth twitches. not a smile. not even close “you did this to your rafe, actually,” he says.

and god it hits like a bruise. like a confession. like the truth he’s been carrying around since the night everything went to hell. he looks like he means it. like every word sits heavy in his chest. you did this.

you softened him. made him feel safe. made him care so deeply it bled out in every wrong way. and now you’re here, both sitting in the wreckage, both pretending you aren’t shaking.

he shifts a little in his seat, like he’s trying to keep it together. he looks at you a second longer, like he’s trying to memorize you. maybe he is. maybe he’s scared this is the last time you’ll ever sit beside him like this.

but then he blinks, exhales through his nose, shakes his head a little—like he’s brushing off the heaviness for just a second—and lets out a soft, strained laugh.

“remember when you got so drunk,” he says, a ghost of a grin tugging at his mouth, “that i had to carry you in my arms from topper’s house all the way to yours?”

your mouth drops open, a short laugh escaping before you cover your face with both hands, half mortified, half caught in the memory.

“oh my god,” you groan, peeking at him between your fingers. “four streets, rafe. four fucking streets.”

he grins fully now, and it’s the first time tonight it doesn’t look like it hurts. “you kept singing that one taylor swift song the whole time.”

“don’t,” you say, already laughing.

“you were slurring it,” he continues, ignoring your protests, “and you tried to make me dance with you on the sidewalk in front of the old lady’s porch. what was her name again—mrs. walker?”

“mrs. walker hates me now, thanks to you,” you laugh, voice high and shaking, the memory hitting you like warm light, like comfort, like home

“nah,” he says, eyes twinkling, “she hated me. said i was a bad influence.”

you’re both laughing quietly now, and it’s easier than anything else tonight “you carried me the whole way,” you say after a beat, soft again, quieter. “you didn’t let me walk.”

rafe shrugs, leaning back a little. “wasn’t gonna let you fall.”

and he means it. he’s always meant it. even when he did.

he leans back in the seat, arms draped lazily over the wheel, head tilted just enough to watch you through the soft dark. his voice is low, warm like summer air,“remember that time we snuck into the country club pool after hours? and you made me swear we wouldn’t get caught?”

you laugh under your breath, shaking your head. “you cannonballed in and screamed ‘yolo’ so loud i’m pretty sure they still have you on some kind of watchlist.”

he grins. “but you were the one who did a backflip off the diving board and hit the water like a belly flop.”

you slap his arm lightly. “i was dared. by you.”

he smirks. “and you lost your earring in the pool.”

you sigh dramatically. “my favorite one.”

“and i stayed in the water for like an hour looking for it.”

you go quiet for a second. you remember. you remember the way he swam around in circles like a madman, hands brushing the bottom, even after you told him to let it go. his hair stuck to his forehead, his eyes red from chlorine, stubborn as hell because he hated seeing you sad over something he dared you to do.

“you’re trying to make me sad?” you say softly, voice barely above a whisper.

his smile falters just enough “no,” he says, his voice steady but thick with emotion. “i’m trying to remind you what we were. what we… are, maybe. even if we’re not supposed to be.”

his hand drifts lazily from the steering wheel, fingers brushing the leather in quiet rhythm as if thinking through the silence, then he turns slightly in his seat, facing you full on now. there’s something painfully earnest in the way he looks at you—like he’s trying to memorize you in this exact second.

“do you…” he starts slow, voice low and rough like a question he’s afraid to hear the answer to, “do you feel loved with him?”

his brows lift just slightly, trying to read you.

you don’t respond. you don’t even breathe at first.

so he nudges your cheek with the tip of his finger, soft and teasing, trying to make it lighter than it is. “c’mooon,” he murmurs, the ghost of a smirk forming. “promise i won’t be mad, baby. scouts honor.”

but you don’t smile back. you sit there, fingers picking at a loose thread on your shorts, lips parting then closing again.

finally, you speak. “i should.”

his expression falters.

“i should feel loved,” you repeat. “he does everything right. he tells me i’m pretty. he brings me flowers. he—he listens. and he remembers the little things. like how i hate cinnamon and how i like my tea.”

he waits.

“but i don’t know what i feel,” you admit, voice thinner now. “he’s nice and he’s sweet and… i like him. i do.”

“but,” he presses softly.

your chest tightens. the silence between you swells “but he doesn’t have that.” you glance at him.

his brows furrow. “that what?”

you swallow. “what we had.”

he holds your gaze, something wild and gentle all at once flashing in his eyes. “what we had?” he echoes, a bitter trace of hope wrapped around the words.

you nod slowly. “that fire.”

and when you say it—that fire—it’s like something erupts between the two of you, invisible and burning

you both feel it. the memory of it coils between your bodies in the car, thick and electric. every time you kissed like you’d die if you didn’t. the yelling. the laughing. the late night drives to nowhere. the silence that was never really silence because it always felt safe with him. the way he’d call you “baby”, like you were a secret no one else got to have

nate never looked at you like rafe does. like you hung the goddamn stars.

“that fire,” rafe repeats under his breath, dragging a hand down his face. he looks back at the windshield, nodding slightly like he’s letting the truth settle.

you think maybe he’s going to say something else, but he just sits there. until he murmurs, “that fire ruined me, you know.”

your head turns toward him, breath caught.

his voice is raw now, honest in a way he rarely lets himself be. “after you, everything felt cold. like nothing was alive unless it was with you. even when we were just ‘friends’—i mean, fuck, i was in so deep, it didn’t matter what we called it.” he laughs weakly. “and then i blew it all up like an idiot. like i always do.”

you don’t say anything, but your hand is shaking in your lap.

his voice softens again. “but i want it back. you. even if it hurts. even if you pick nate tomorrow morning and block my number again. i’ll still want it.”

you blink, and another tear slips without warning. neither of you wipe it this time

your voice trembles slightly when you ask it, eyes fixed out the windshield like maybe if you don’t look at him, the words will come out easier “you think we were more in love with the world?”

rafe furrows his brows, the question catching him off guard. he turns to face you again, lips parting just a bit as if searching for meaning behind your words. “what do you mean?”

you inhale sharply, “i mean…” your voice is small now, cracking at the edges. “we were always so scared. you and me. scared of what people would say. scared of looking stupid. i didn’t say anything back then because—because i was terrified of you not feeling the same way, of ruining whatever we had.”

you finally look at him, watery eyes sharp with emotion “and you?” you say, voice rising a little now, “you were scared of rejection too, but also scared of fucking up your fucking reputation.”

he looks like he wants to say something, but you keep going.

“you cared so much about how people saw you, rafe. the image. the name. the attitude. and me?” you laugh, bitter and breathless. “i was just the girl you spent time with but never called yours. not in public. not out loud. we were just… hidden. behind closed doors. all heat and touch and feelings that neither of us had the guts to name.”

you look down at your hands.

“so yeah, maybe we weren’t in love with each other,” you whisper. “maybe we were just in love with what it could be if the world didn’t matter.”

he swallows hard, his jaw tight as he processes your words.

you’ve never spoken to him like this before. not with the ache so sharp in your chest, not with your voice so broken around the truth.

you sniff, wiping under your eye. “and i keep thinking about it, y’know? how maybe if we weren’t so fucking scared, we would’ve had a shot. if you weren’t so wrapped up in being rafe cameron—if i wasn’t so scared of needing someone who could leave just as fast as he came.”

rafe leans back in his seat, eyes still glued to you. he looks older suddenly, more tired. wrecked, even.

he exhales slowly. “you think that’s all it was?”

you blink. “what?”

“reputation,” he says. “fear. appearances.”

you hesitate. “doesn’t it feel like that now?”

he doesn’t answer. instead, he just looks at you—really looks at you—and for once, there’s no smugness, no mask, no front.

just him. your rafe. he’s quiet for a long time after that. so long, you almost regret saying anything at all.

you’re about to open your mouth to take it back, to laugh it off, brush over it, pretend none of this ever left your lips, when his gaze finally lifts. and lands on you.

hard. heavy. he really looks at you this time. like he’s peeling back skin, not just clothes. like he’s not seeing the girl in a too big t-hirt and slippers, but the girl who’s haunted him every fucking night for months. the girl he sees in cigarette smoke and ocean waves and his own fucking dreams

you feel it in your chest when he does it, how his stare strips you down, not with lust, but with history.

and then, low, rough, nothing like the boys you’ve been around lately, he says it “can you fight fire with fire, baby?”

your heart drops.

he tilts his head, tongue grazing his bottom lip. “’cause that’s what this is, right? what we were. what we are. fire.”

you don’t speak. can’t.

his voice softens, but only just “you said nate doesn’t have that.” a beat “you said we had fire.”

you nod slowly, throat tight. “yeah.”

he shifts closer, one arm tapping his thigh with that restless energy you remember so well. he’s nervous. but trying not to be.

“then tell me,” he whispers. “tell me if you think that fire can burn everything else down. the fear. the guilt. the perfect boy waiting for you to text back. tell me if it’s worth it.”

you look at him, and god, his eyes. those fucking eyes.

“can you fight fire with fire, baby?” he repeats, a little softer now.

he leans in like he might kiss you, but stops just short—close enough to feel him, but far enough that you’ll have to make the choice.

and maybe he’s right. maybe that’s all you ever were. too much heat in a world that wanted cold. too much flame for a place built out of reputation and rules.

you breathe, heavy and uneven, as your mouth parts but no words come. just that look. that ache.

he’s still waiting. so are you. you whisper it before you even realize it left your mouth “I hope… in time I can just love, freely.”

the words hang in the air, delicate and bruised. not hopeful, not hopeless. just real.

and for once, rafe doesn’t rush to fill the silence.

he breathes it in instead. your honesty, your ache, the way your voice cracked a little on free. he nods, slow. like he gets it. like he’s been trying to get there, too.

his fingers tap against his thigh again, but gentler this time. almost nervously. and when he speaks, it’s not sharp or sarcastic or layered in all that old pride he used to wear like armor.

it’s just soft, scared “I hope in time…” he looks at you, really looks at you again, the way he always does right before he says something you’ll never forget “…we can love each other freely.”

you don’t even blink.

he exhales like the words cost him something. like they gave him something back, too.

you stare at him—this boy who’s hurt you, wanted you, feared you, missed you.

this boy who always shows up when he shouldn’t. this boy who knows the worst parts of you and still—still—looks at you like he’d burn it all down just to hear you laugh.

you shift slightly in your seat, knees pulled up, hands knotted in your lap, the fabric of your oversized tee wrinkling with the motion. your throat feels raw.

he’s still watching. and for once, it doesn’t feel like he’s asking you to choose. just…to feel. to be.

after that, you decided you should go home. all you wanted to do was sleep.

did you sleep? nope. you laid in bed, eyes burning in the dark, every fiber of your body heavy with exhaustion and still, your mind wouldn’t shut up. you kept ignoring topper’s texts, and everyone else’s too. you didn’t even read them. couldn’t.

you just kept thinking. about nate. and rafe. and how it’s not supposed to be this hard. you didn’t want to break nate’s heart. he’s so good. so golden. he says what he means. makes you feel like someone easy to love, not this walking storm of overthinking and damage and what ifs.

he’s gentle hands and easy smiles. not a single sharp edge.

but rafe…rafe feels like—you can’t even describe it. like home? but no, not really. home doesn’t scare the shit out of you.

like fire? too cliche. and not the right kind. rafe doesn’t burn you to ash, he scorches everything else around you, and you let him.

rafe feels like the one person who’s ever really seen you. not the dressed up version. not the smart answer or the curated laugh or the quiet polite thing you sometimes turn yourself into around other people.

he saw the mess. the ugly. the selfish. the insecure. he saw your bare skin and your worst moods and your clumsy love and your fears—he didn’t run. not until you both got scared.

you twist under the sheets and flip your pillow for the third time in twenty minutes. stare at the ceiling like it might offer a decision.

nate deserves more than this confusion.

more than a girlfriend who kissed her past in a parked car hours ago and still hasn’t decided what to do about it.

but rafe….rafe fucking cameron. you hate how much you still want him. how much he still makes you feel. how the smallest flicker in his voice changes everything in your chest.

you don’t know if it’s love. you don’t know if it’s trauma. you don’t know if it’s the worst idea you’ve ever had. but you know it’s not nothing.

with rafe…it’s free. it always was, even when it felt like it wasn’t. even when you two danced around each other like you were both one wrong word away from setting fire to the whole thing. even when it ended before it ever had a name.

it could be free again. maybe. maybe in another life.

one where you weren’t scared of the way he looked at you. one where he didn’t care so much about how others saw him. one where you didn’t waste all that time pretending it didn’t matter—when all it ever did was matter.

you imagine it sometimes. you can’t help it.

that version of you walking through the grocery store with him, fingers laced, no need to pull away when someone you know walks by. his lips pressed to the side of your neck when he’s had too much wine, both of you laughing over something that isn’t even funny anymore. waking up beside him with sunlight warming your face, no guilt in your chest. no secrets. no ifs or buts or maybes. just love. just him.

you blink at the ceiling, your chest aching under the weight of all the things you’ve never said out loud. how much you wanted to believe the timing didn’t matter.

how much you lied when you said it was just a hook up. how much it destroyed you to see him with brianna, even if he never touched her like he touched you.

it could’ve been clean, maybe. maybe if you hadn’t been so young. maybe if he hadn’t been so lost. maybe if you both weren’t so good at pretending you didn’t care when your eyes said everything.

but this life? this one is messy. you’re dating nate. rafe is—fuck. rafe is rafe.

and no matter how much your heart aches at the idea of “what if,” you know it doesn’t change where you are right now.

stuck in a storm of feelings that don’t make sense. still thinking about a boy who said, “i hope in time we can love each other free.”

and maybe that time just hasn’t come yet. maybe it never will. maybe there won’t be a time when it’s clean or easy or feels like the right thing instead of the selfish one. and that’s what scares you. because life is about taking chances, right?

so why can’t you take this one? why does it feel so impossible to just make the choice, to lean into what you want instead of what looks better on paper?

if you choose nate—god, nate. his patience, his soft hands, the way he opens the passenger door like it’s instinct. he’d step down. he would. he might be heartbroken, might cry in his car, might never text you again, but he wouldn’t beg. he wouldn’t call you names. he wouldn’t ask for more than you could give. he’s not like that. he’d let you go, because he’s too good not to.

and if you choose rafe—that’s the real kicker, isn’t it? you already did, once. chose him in secret, in silence, in the way your body moved without permission every time he was near.

and back then, it still ended in fire.

but maybe he’s different now. maybe you are too. you think about how he looked at you last night—like he’d burn down the whole world if you asked him to.

how he said he wouldn’t tell a soul if you wanted nate. how he didn’t kiss you. didn’t push. he used to be reckless. last night…he was careful. with you.

and still, you’re frozen. you tell yourself you’re just scared to hurt nate. and you are.

but the truth is, you’re terrified that you’ll choose rafe, give him your full heart this time, and he’ll still leave. not for another girl—no, not that. just for himself. because that’s what he does when it gets too close. he runs.

you sigh, flipping your phone over on the pillow beside you, screen black, texts still unread. you try to convince yourself nate would understand. he probably would. he’s gentle like that.

but that doesn’t make it easier. what if neither of them is the answer? what if you’re the one who needs fixing?

you let out a bitter laugh, palms pressed into your eyes. because it’s just like him to waltz back in with that crooked mouth and those eyes that know too much—and fuck everything up all over again. because you let him. because part of you wants to. and that’s what makes you the worst kind of selfish. not the reckless kind. not the mean kind. the kind who’s too scared to be happy

rafe is no better than you. it’s 4:02am and is he sleeping? no fucking way.

he’s laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling like it’s gonna give him answers, one arm flung over his head, the other pressed against his chest like he’s trying to feel his own heartbeat. like if he listens close enough, maybe it’ll tell him what to do

but all it does is ache. his room’s dark, silent except for the occasional creak of the ceiling fan and the distant waves crashing behind tannyhill. but in his head, it’s anything but quiet.

he keeps playing the night over, rewinding, replaying, like some messed up movie scene. your face. the way your voice cracked when you said help me please. how your fingers trembled just slightly on your thighs. how your eyes didn’t leave his once—not once.

he should be content with that, right? some part of you still wants him. but all he can think is you deserve better.

he knows it. fuck, he knows it.

you deserve better than a guy who left without warning. a guy who couldn’t even tell you why because even he didn’t really know. only that it felt too good, too big, too dangerous. like he might actually be capable of ruining something pure again.

you were the first thing that ever felt safe. and that scared the shit out of him.

so he did what he always does. he self sabotaged.

and now, he keeps wondering if maybe he could be that better for you. if he just wasn’t so scared. if he wasn’t still wrestling with the shadow of who he used to be and the man he’s trying to become.

it’s not about being clean—not entirely. he hasn’t touched a line in a long time, hasn’t gone back to that darkness, but that doesn’t mean he’s whole.

he’s still selfish. still wounded. still obsessed with the idea of you and him in another life where the world wasn’t watching, where expectations didn’t chain you both to bullshit roles.

he wants that life so bad it burns.

the one where he’s not rafe cameron: tannyhill’s golden fuck up. and you’re not the girl caught in the middle, afraid to be seen loving him too loud.

in that life, you laugh in the open. in that life, you kiss in daylight. in that life, he’s not scared to be exactly who you need.

but it’s not that life. it’s this one. where you’re still with nate, and he’s still paying for mistakes he hasn’t even made yet.

rafe turns over, burying his face into the pillow and groaning into it.

he wants to text you. call you. do something stupid like show up at your house with flowers from the gas station and a half baked apology.

but he doesn’t. because for once, he knows that might do more harm than good. so he waits. and hopes.

and thinks maybe—just maybe—if there’s a version of the world where love is brave and clean and free…it’ll look something like you.

and him, without all the in betweens.

but still, he hopes.some twisted, stubborn part of him still fucking hopes.

hopes that if you choose love..real love, the kind that strips you down, breaks you open, burns you alive and somehow puts you back together again…that love will look like him.

and you. together.

not nate. not some perfectly put together, gentle boy with a sweet laugh and a reliable car and parents who probably love him in the right way.

not the world, either. not safety. not ease. not what everyone expects you to choose.

but him. the one thing you swore you wouldn’t come back to. but still did. he thinks about your text. no punctuation. no explanation. you didn’t need to give one.

and he’d be lying if he said that didn’t mean everything. because deep down, rafe doesn’t want to just be someone you remember fondly at night when the room is too quiet. he doesn’t want to be the ghost you almost loved. he wants to be chosen. on purpose. in spite of everything.

he knows that doesn’t make him noble. doesn’t make him good. but it’s honest. and at least it’s his. so yeah—he hopes.

he hopes you don’t want the version of love that looks good on paper, that makes sense to your friends, your parents, your carefully folded life. he hopes you want the kind of love that leaves marks. the kind that comes with broken glass and bruised hearts and whispered promises between parked cars at 3am.

because that’s the only kind he’s ever known. and the only kind he knows how to give you.

so if you choose love—if you really, really choose it—he hopes it looks like him.

not the best version of him, not the cleaned up, crowd approved version. just him. raw and fucked and trying anyway.

he turns his head into the pillow and finally lets the thought sit on his chest like weight:

if you choose love…please let it be him.

rafe’s phone dings. one buzz. sharp in the quiet, slicing through the dark like it knows what it’s doing. like it knows he’s been wide awake all night, laying flat on his back, eyes on the ceiling, your name tangled in every single thought.

he barely moves when he grabs it, just tilts the screen toward his face.

topper: you met up with her didn’t you

his heart skips. fucking skips.

rafe: how the fuck did you know

the bubble pops up instantly. topper’s probably been waiting for this.

topper: she texted me “i’m about to do something” and then turned off her phone. you didn’t answer the whole time. it wasn’t hard to figure out

rafe exhales through his nose, thumb tapping, deleting, typing again.

rafe: yeah. she texted me. i didn’t plan it

topper: you never do, but you care about her. dude. don’t fuck this up again

rafe stares at the screen, jaw locked. his stomach turns. not in the sick way. in the “fuck, he’s right” kind of way.

rafe: i already fucked it up but she texted me. that has to mean something right?

topper doesn’t reply right away. rafe sets the phone on his chest and stares at the ceiling again. heart thumping.

she called me. she called me. she called me.

he says it in his head like a prayer.

because even if it’s the last time,

even if it’s wrong, even if you go back to nate—it still meant something. it had to.

cause in rafe’s mind, even if you choose nate—be with him for real, love him out loud and without fear, maybe even marry him one day, wear white and cry at the altar.

maybe you’ll have a home with warm lights and picture frames and messy counters.

maybe a kid with nate’s soft eyes and your stubborn little mouth. maybe a life so sweet it makes you forget rafe’s name when you whisper love.

but.

but. even if you do all that,even if you never say his name again—rafe knows something now.

you texted him. you chose him, even if just for one night. one moment. one 30 minute car ride that smelled like perfume and regret.

and maybe that’s all he’ll ever get. maybe he’ll always be the dumbass who couldn’t give you clean, couldn’t give you calm. maybe he’ll always be the fuckup.

but for once—for the very first time in his life—he meant something. to someone. and not just anyone. to you.

you, with your fire and your mouth and your guilt. you, who never needed saving but still let him be near. you, who made everything feel stupid and sacred at the same time.

and yeah, it’ll fucking destroy him if you go back to nate. but he’ll take that destruction like a medal. he’ll carry it until it bruises his ribs and caves his chest in.

because now he knows. he meant something. one time. to you. and that…that might have to be enough. for him, at least.

a week later. you haven’t talked to rafe since that night. since the 30 minutes that rewired your entire fucking brain. since the confession, the almosts, the eye contact that should’ve meant nothing—but felt like everything.

and now…now you’re in nate’s car. he’s got one hand on the wheel and the other resting near your thigh, fingers twitching like he wants to hold you but won’t push. he’s been perfect. sweet. too fucking sweet.

he got you flowers two days ago just because he saw you sad on facetime. he took you to that stupid thrift market you always talk about. he asked your coffee order and actually remembered it.

he’s been trying. and it should be enough. you should want this.

you so should.

but god, your body feels like it’s betraying you every second. you keep thinking about the wrong hands. the wrong voice. the wrong boy.

or maybe not wrong. maybe just… not safe.

“hey,” nate says, his voice gentle but worried. again. you blink out the window, your cheek against the glass, pretending to nap but you’re not fooling anyone

“you okay?” you don’t answer. he waits five seconds. then says again, “you okay?”

you suck in a breath and close your eyes harder like that’ll drown it all out. it doesn’t.

he asks again. a third time “baby, are you okay?”

you almost say yes. you almost lie. but the fourth time he asks, when you don’t answer right away, he gently squeezes your thigh and whispers, “talk to me, please. this is the fifth time i’ve asked.”

that’s when you snap. not angry. just… full. overwhelmed. tipping over the edge “fuck, nate,” you mutter, voice raw and thin, “i don’t fucking know, okay?”

he doesn’t respond at first. so you keep going “i don’t know. i’m trying, i am, but i don’t know what the fuck’s wrong with me. you’re—god, you’re amazing, nate. you’re nice and easy and thoughtful and i should love you, i should—but i don’t even know if i can.”

he stares at the road, lips pressed in a flat line, his hand frozen.

you exhale hard, tears stinging but not falling. you don’t even look at him when you whisper, “i’m sorry.”

you’re not sure if you mean for this moment or for something else entirely. for rafe. for meeting up. for thinking about it every night since.

nate nods once, quietly “thank you for telling me,” he says after a while, so calm it cuts deeper “even if it hurts.”

and fuck. you wish it would’ve been easier. you wish nate was the right kind of chaos. you wish his kiss tasted like fire. you wish his hands made your spine ache the way rafe’s name does. but they don’t.

and now you both know.

he pulls the car over. just… turns the wheel slowly and lets the tires crunch against gravel as the car rolls to a stop on the side of the empty road. it’s quiet. humid air pressing against the windows. music still playing low, some soft indie song he probably put on for your sake.

you feel your stomach twist before he even says anything.

“you, uh…” he starts, voice gentle but thick in his throat. he won’t look at you. just stares straight ahead, fingers flexing on the wheel “you still want him. rafe. don’t you?”

you inhale like you’re about to answer, but nothing comes out. you blink hard. your lips part, then shut. you hate this. you hate hurting him.

“i…” your voice cracks. “i don’t know what i want, nate.”

and it’s the truth. you’re drowning in it. the guilt, the confusion, the ache. nate is looking at you now. not angry. not cold. just… trying.

“i’m fucking scared, okay?” you whisper. “i don’t know how to make the right choice, i don’t even know if there is one. and it’s not fair to you and i know that, and i’m sorry. i swear to god i’m sorry.”

he nods slowly, looking down at his lap “scared of what?” he asks. “what is it about him that makes you scared?”

you shrug, your nails digging into the edge of your seat “everything,” you whisper. “he feels like fire and falling and all the things that could ruin me. and you—you’re good. you’re safe. and maybe that’s why i can’t stop comparing.”

“so you’re scared of me… not being enough?”

you shake your head “no, nate. you are enough. you’re more than enough. i’m the one who’s not.”

he sighs, pressing his knuckles to his mouth. thinking “i want to be mad at you,” he admits after a moment. “i really do. i want to be the guy who slams the door and says fuck you and never looks back.” he looks over at you. “but i care too much.”

your chest aches.

“you didn’t mean to hurt me,” he says. “and that’s why it hurts even more.”

a silence stretches out, thick and pulsing. you wipe under your eyes, not even realizing you’d been crying again.

nate sighs and finally, finally reaches over and takes your hand—just for a second “i hope you find what you’re looking for,” he says softly. “even if it’s not me.”

and just like that—your throat closes. because you never deserved someone like nate. but he still gave you permission to leave. and now… now you have to figure out if you’re brave enough to take it.

you swallow hard, voice barely above a whisper “nate… what do i do?”

he looks over at you, eyes soft but tired “i don’t know,” he admits, voice low. “what feels right, i guess.” there’s a pause before he lets out a bitter laugh “honestly, i should’ve known you’d still want him.”

you blink, heart sinking.

“i mean,” he continues, “the first night we met he came over to that bench and acted like a maniac. totally reckless, like he was trying to stake his claim or something.”

he shrugs, like it’s no big deal, but you catch the way his jaw tightens “it was clear you weren’t mine to take.”

you don’t answer right away. you stare out the window, trying to figure out what feels right when everything inside you feels so tangled.

“maybe,” you whisper, “maybe i’m just too scared to admit what i want.”

nate nods, a small, grateful smile tugging at his lips “i’m glad you said something, you know. it’s still early. doesn’t hurt that much, y’know?”

you let out a breathy laugh, half amused, half bitter “oh wow, really comforting for both of us,” you say, shaking your head, “just huffing out the drama.”

nate huffs a laugh, shaking his head “yeah, you’re definitely in your adele era, huh?”

you roll your eyes with a smirk,“haha, real funny. sarcasm’s your love language, huh?”

he grins,“probably would be, if i had that much to laugh about.”

you raise an eyebrow, “wow, real dramatic. you’re full of surprises today.”

nate shrugs,“me??? you’re the one that dropped that bomb on me.”

you sigh,“yeah… really sorry about that.”

he gives you a small smile,“nah, you’re good. i get it.”

there’s a quiet pause, the hum of the engine filling the space between you “look,” he says softly, “whatever happens, i just want you to be happy. even if it’s not with me.”

you bite your lip, hesitant “i should talk to rafe, shouldn’t i?”

nate glances over at you, a little unsure but trying to help. “i uh… i could take you to his place, y’know…” he trails off, like he’s not totally sure if that’s a good idea, but he wants to be there for you either way.

nate blinks, then grins wide, a teasing spark in his eyes “waaaait—is that why we didn’t do anything? and we were just ‘taking our time’?”

you flush a little, trying to hide the small smile tugging at your lip “oh, shut up.”

nate laughs, shaking his head “oh my god, it was because of rafe, wasn’t it?” he’s laughing now, but it’s warm, easy, like he’s trying to make light of the tension between you

you sigh, a little defeated but amused “okay, you got me there. i’ll give you that.”

nate’s grin just widens like he won “figured as much.”

you twist in your seat a little, pulling your legs up and wrapping your arms around them. it’s quiet for a moment. not awkward quiet, just… heavy. everything’s kind of sunken in now, and there’s a weird comfort in how nate’s still here. still being nate. still kind, still making jokes even when you sort of crushed him

you glance at him. he doesn’t look mad. just maybe a little… sad. but the gentle kind. the kind that says he already prepared himself for this possibility. maybe he’s been seeing it in your eyes the whole time.

you clear your throat. “you know what?”

he glances at you, hand still resting on the steering wheel “yeah?”

you breathe in through your nose. your voice isn’t shaky, but it’s definitely unsure “yeah. take me to tannyhill.” you nod, more to yourself than to him “please.”

he raises his eyebrows, nodding slowly “okay…” he breathes. “fuck. we’re doing this.”

you both kind of laugh. not really because it’s funny, but because it’s insane. the way this night turned out, the way your head’s been spinning for a week straight. the fact that you’re about to show up at rafe cameron’s house like you didn’t spend seven days avoiding your own reflection.

nate signals left “you sure you wanna do this now? it’s like… late late.”

you nod. “it’s always late when it comes to him.”

he hums. doesn’t argue.

you watch the night roll by outside the car window. the way the streetlights flicker across. just barely threw a hoodie over the big shirt. you didn’t even check if your hair looked okay or if you had mascara under your eyes. you didn’t even care. and that’s what scares you most. because every time it’s rafe, you lose your pride. your balance. your logic. but god, it’s him. and you miss him. and no matter what you try to do to smother it, it leaks out of you like light through your ribs.

“you look nervous,” nate says softly.

“i am,” you admit.

“you shouldn’t be.”

“i feel like i’m about to jump into a volcano.”

“well,” he chuckles, “at least you’re doing it in slippers.”

you snort, head tipping back against the seat “thanks for being cool about this.”

he shrugs. “i’m not cool. i’m coping. difference.”

you look at him, eyes soft “seriously.”

he glances at you, and this time it’s warmer. “you’re welcome.”

by the time you turn onto the familiar gravel road to tannyhill, your stomach is killing you. not physically—just that ache of what the fuck am i doing and what if he slams the door in my face. what if he doesn’t even answer. what if you misread everything, what if last week was just nostalgia and desperation and loneliness?

you’re chewing your thumb, pulse racing in your neck. nate slows the car near the gate. you freeze.

he looks at you. “i can turn around right now if you want. we can pretend this never happened.”

you inhale deep. really deep. then exhale, shaky “no,” you murmur. “i have to know.”

he nods again, slow “okay then.”

he drives the car past the gate. tannyhill looks the same. porch light on. one window glowing upstairs—his room. it’s like time stopped here even if you didn’t.

nate parks. you don’t move right away.

he glances at you and raises an eyebrow “go on.”

you lick your lips. “fuck.”

he grins. “yeah. fuck.”

you unbuckle your seatbelt, fingers trembling just a little “thank you,” you say one more time, hand on the door handle.

“go get your boy,” nate says, soft and without bitterness.

you step out, shutting the door quietly behind you. it’s so still here. the kind of still that makes you feel every breath and every heartbeat in your throat. you walk up the porch steps slowly. your hand hesitates on the door for a second before you knock.

not loud. just enough.

you wait. and wait.

then the porch light flickers. you hear the sound of a lock shifting, the slow creak of a door being pulled open.

rafe stands there in gray sweatpants, a white tank, and sleepy eyes that still go wide when they land on you. his hair’s a mess, and he looks like he hasn’t slept either.

he blinks.

“…hey.” you breathe. god, you didn’t even realize how much you needed to see him.

“hey.” he doesn’t move. doesn’t say anything for a second. then “you—uh…you wanna come in?”

you nod.

he steps aside and lets you walk in. you don’t get far, just inside the door before you stop and turn. he’s still looking at you like he’s trying to figure out if you’re real.

“you weren’t sleeping,” you say.

“wasn’t,” he confirms.

“me neither.”

“figured.” he gestures toward the living room, and you both sit, facing each other. the silence isn’t exactly uncomfortable, but it’s charged. like everything’s sitting on the edge of a sentence.

finally, he says it “what made you come?”

you chew your lip. “i don’t know. i think i just… could feel you thinking about me.”

he nods slowly, chest rising “i was.”

your hands are in your lap, fidgeting “i told nate.”

his head lifts slightly “you did?”

“mhm.”

“how’d he take it?”

“better than i would’ve.”

he breathes out a laugh through his nose “course he did. that guy’s an angel.”

you pause. then say “i didn’t come here for a decision, rafe.”

he nods. “i didn’t expect one.”

you shift closer “i came here because… it doesn’t feel right unless i talk to you.”

he swallows hard. you can see it in his throat “you always had that effect on me,” he says.

“what effect?”

“like no one else existed.”

you smile. a small one “you said that before.”

“i meant it then, too.”

you shift in your seat, looking at the floor for a second. god, everything’s swimming in your chest. the nerves, the adrenaline, the guilt, the ache you’ve been trying to ignore all week. and rafe’s just there—watching you like you hung the damn moon and forgot to tell him.

your voice is barely above a whisper when it comes out “i… fuck,” you laugh a little, mostly at yourself. “i basically made my ex, now, drive me here. to you.”

rafe’s brows twitch, but he doesn’t interrupt. you go on, fumbling with your sleeves “i feel like it wasn’t fair to him. not really. because—” you breathe“—because i want you, rafe.”

he blinks.

you look at him, eyes wide and raw and shimmering “i don’t know why, okay? i mean, you kinda fucked me up—”he winces a little. “but i still… for some reason… i want you.”

he exhales slowly, leaning forward, forearms resting on his knees. he’s quiet for a second, running a hand down his face before letting it fall back between his legs.

then he looks at you. really looks at you. like his eyes could touch you “you think i don’t want you?” his voice cracks a little “you think i’ve been sleeping since that night? you think i haven’t thought about every word you said—how you looked at me like i was yours again?”

you open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes.

rafe swallows, voice low and hoarse “you were always it for me. even when we were friends, even when you hated me. i still fucking—i still saw you in everything. every fucking mistake i made. every time i lied, every time i drank too much, every time i couldn’t sleep. it was always you, it’s always been you.”

your heart thuds against your ribs. your throat tightens.

“i used to think maybe i ruined us,” he says, voice trembling slightly, “but then i realized we both were scared. scared of wanting it too much. scared of what it’d cost. and it did cost us. but god i’d pay it again just to sit here like this. with you looking at me like you still want me.”

your lips part, shaky breath leaving them. you don’t even know when your eyes got glassy.

“i’m not proud of how i handled us,” he adds, “but i never stopped thinking about what it would’ve been like if we got it right. if we were brave. if we—”

you lean forward fast, cutting him off with your mouth on his. it’s soft, but desperate. your hands cupping his jaw, your lips moving against his like he’s home and you’re starving for it. like if you keep kissing him, maybe it’ll make sense. maybe the ache will finally quiet.

rafe freezes for half a second—just stunned. then he’s kissing you back like he’s drowning, like he’s scared you’ll vanish if he doesn’t hold you tight enough. his hands grip your waist, dragging you closer like he can’t get enough of you. like he’s needed this for so long he forgot how to breathe without it.

your lips break only for a second, your forehead pressing to his. you whisper, “i don’t know what i’m doing.”

and he whispers back, voice thick “we’ll figure it out. just don’t leave.”

your breath catches against his, forehead pressed to his, eyes barely open. everything’s trembling..your voice, your fingers, the fragile hope in your chest you swore you’d buried.

but still, you say it “promise you won’t leave first.”

it’s not a demand. it’s a plea. like you need something—anything—to hold on to. something solid. something real. because your heart can’t afford to be shattered again, not by him, not when he’s the only thing in this goddamn world that’s ever felt like it could maybe be enough.

rafe’s lips part, his thumb brushing your jaw, his eyes scanning yours like he’s reading a secret you haven’t even told him yet.

his voice is hoarse when he answers “i won’t,” he says. “baby, i won’t leave. not unless you make me.”

your lashes flutter, throat tightening, and you hate that your body relaxes—just a little—at those words. like it believes him before your mind catches up.

“you mean it?” you breathe.

he nods. slowly. surely “yeah. i mean it. i’m not gonna walk away this time. i’ve done enough of that.”

he shifts, one of his hands sliding to hold yours, fingers intertwining like they always used to—like they’re still learning each other again “and if you get scared,” he adds, softer now “just tell me. i’ll stay. even if you run, even if you push me away again, i’ll stay.”

you’re quiet for a moment, staring down at your joined hands, heart beating too loud in your ears. it hurts how much you want to believe him. how badly you want it to work, to mean something this time.

“don’t lie to me,” you whisper. “please don’t lie.”

rafe squeezes your hand gently “i’m not,” he says. “i swear, i’m not lying. i haven’t lied to you once since that night on your street corner.”

that makes you laugh. just a little. it’s watery and quiet, but it’s real. you shake your head, pulling back just enough to look at him properly. your lips are still kiss bruised. your heart is still in his hands.

“what the fuck are we doing, rafe?” you ask, voice barely there.

he smiles. tired. small. real “something reckless,” he says. “something that might ruin us again.”

you nod “yeah.”

“but it might save us too,” he murmurs. “if we let it.”

you smile. soft. shy. the kind of smile that curls up slow and hesitant, like it’s been waiting its whole life to be let out again. your eyes search his—still scared, still unsure, but not running anymore.

your voice is quiet when you ask it, almost like it’s too delicate to say out loud “are we… are we finally free?”

rafe’s heart stutters in his chest. not in panic. not in fear. but something something like peace.

he lifts your hand to his mouth and presses a kiss to your knuckles—so fucking gentle it makes your stomach twist.

“let me take you on a date,” he whispers. “please.” his eyes don’t leave yours when he says it. there’s no game this time. no deflection. no pride “not some late night backseat shit,” he adds. “not something that feels like a secret. a real date. something good. something you deserve.”

you swallow thickly, tears welling up even as your lips stay curled.

he brushes your hair back from your cheek, tucks it behind your ear like he always used to, like nothing ever changed and everything did “we’re free,” he says. “i promise we are.”

you look at him, heart beating way too fast for something so soft, for something so still. like it’s afraid to believe this is real, that you’re here, that he’s here.

you tilt your head, voice small but shaking with everything inside you “is this not what we would do in another life?” you ask “wasn’t this wrong in this one?”

he stares at you. not blinking. not breathing. like he’s memorizing you all over again.

then he laughs. quiet, breathy, almost like relief. he leans in a little closer, bumping your knee with his “nah,” he says. “we’re in the right one now.”

your breath catches. he reaches for your hand again, fingers curling through yours like they belong there. like they never stopped.

“never was the wrong life,” he murmurs, eyes still locked with yours. “just two dumbasses who didn’t know how to live it right.”

his lips are on yours again before either of you can think twice. soft this time. slower. like he finally gets to kiss you the way he wanted to all along—without guilt, without rushing, without thinking of who’s watching or what it means or how much it might break him later.

you melt into it, into him, letting your fingers tangle in the collar of his shirt. he kisses like he’s missed you. like he’s remembering you. like this is everything.

and when he finally pulls away, forehead resting against yours, he whispers, “come on a date with me. please?”

you smile. you’re breathless, dizzy with everything you shouldn’t feel but do anyway.

“yeah,” you murmur. “i’ll come on a date with you.”

rafe blinks. then just… beams “yeah?” he says, like he has to double check. like he can’t believe it. like he doesn’t want to let himself believe it until you say it again.

you nod, and he exhales the biggest breath of his entire life. a crooked, giddy grin breaks across his face as he brings both your hands up to his lips, kissing your knuckles one by one.

“fuck,” he mutters, grinning. “you have no idea what you just did to me.”

you laugh, flushed, and he leans in to kiss you again. slower this time. not urgent just full. full of things unspoken and undone and quietly, finally coming back together

his hands hold your face like you’re something fragile and he’s scared of breaking you. and then he’s whispering against your lips, “thank you. thank you for coming back to me.”

so you whisper back, “i never really left.”

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a/n yall i feel like this is sooo rushed and bad wtf. i’m sorry if this is not what u expected 😔😔 also, reblogs and replies are HIGHLY appreciated and ALSO im taking requests for this.

tags 🏷️ @rafesbabygirlx @httpsdrewstarkey @qversazex @iconiccolo @devoutedlover @viqtoria @sc05 @alphabetically-deranged @meetmeintheemeraldpool @k4yr14 @t0x1cfaerie @purplerose291 @mrspuffdriving @silkylovey @mayanqueenxx @glitterylightkingdom @babygoddam @lolasangelz @my-diary1 @lalaloopsieparty @emeloyy @eunivalaa @belle101200 @ennycutie @maybankslover @zuccheromorena @senatorpadmeamidala @swhistledown @imaginethatblog @maybejj @f1petra @rosetintmworld @luvvrafey @marinrscomplex @eyve-5 @allthoughtsmindfull @kaydennnn @rafecameronswhoore @drewstarkeyspecs @electronicladystudent @ymnizuh @heycjjj @cataliveordead @idk0zx @itzzjulie @d00si @nonbeliever1 @bigjuli444 @tul1preads @rgrimesr @berryonasummerevening @abireichstein @whosyourmommy69 @macbaetwo @vdotcom @x-angel-o

#cherrywriter ‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮#bff!rafe #best friend!rafe #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #outer banks x reader #rafe fluff #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron obx #obx rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe angst #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron outer banks

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juniperwoodwell · 2 days ago

Note

Hey, I was thinking about a fic where reader finds out somehow that Morpheus has a son and Morpheus thinks it's a deal breaker and tries to distance himself a little.

You catch on that he's not himself and you talk about it and then you ask if he wants to have another one, he's taken aback but obviously wants to start a family with you so you start practicing 😏😏

Oh- OH... this is so good. 🥵

Thank you so much for this request.

–Practice –

Pairing: Morpheus x F!Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warning: Smut, mating press, rough sex, breeding, tiny bit of angst. Mostly smut and fluff.

A/N: I really loved this request. Sorry it took me a few days to complete! The end was really difficult for some reason to write.

“Lucienne, is this book here about the Endless… like Dream’s family?” I asked, my finger resting on the spine of a black leather-bound book.

Lucienne lifted her head from the one she was reading. “Yes, it is. Why do you ask?”

I shrugged, carefully pulling it from the shelf and taking a seat at the table. “I’m just curious. I sometimes hear him talk about his siblings but never his parents… would this tell me anything?”

Lucienne smiled. “See for yourself.”

I flipped open the book. The first page was a family tree: Time and Night at the top, then the Endless, listed in order—Destruction to Delirium, whose name had once been Delight. Beside Morpheus was Calliope… and beneath them, a son named Orpheus.

I tilted my head, quietly piecing it together before closing the book. That was all I needed to see for now.

Leaning back in my chair, I bit the inside of my lip and looked to Lucienne. “Dream has a son?” The words came out harsher than I meant. There was no malice behind them.

“Yes, indeed he does.” Her voice held that note—curious, cautious. The tone of someone who wanted to ask something but didn’t want to overstep.

“Does this bother you?” she finally asked.

I shook my head, then paused. “Not… not in the way you might think.” I slid the book forward across the table and stood. “He’s centuries old. I half expected him to have twelve children. I’m just bothered he hasn’t told me about this one.”

Lucienne smiled to herself. “I understand. But it might not be wise to ask him directly. It’s a sensitive topic. So tread carefully.”

I thanked her and left the library.

I entered his chambers quietly, not wanting to disturb him. He sat at his desk, wearing that rare, comfy sweater I loved so much. I savored every glimpse of it.

“Do you plan to stare at me all night, Lover?” His head was still down, scribbling across the page, brow furrowed in focus. But his voice was light. Almost joyful.

“I could, if you want me to.” I took that as an invitation and stepped into the room, walking around to stand beside him. I leaned forward, peering over his shoulder.

“You’re quite nosy tonight, are you not?” he teased, still not meeting my eyes.

“Just curious, that’s all, babe.”

He hummed in response, continuing to write.

I leaned closer and kissed the back of his head. That stopped him. His hand froze, his entire body going still—even his breath, which he barely needed.

I pulled back, confused. “What’s wrong?”

That broke whatever pause he’d slipped into. He straightened in his chair, turning to look at me.

He looked ethereal.

I reached out, brushing through his hair. “Are you here to distract me, lover?” he whispered, the faintest smile twitching on his lips.

“Only if you’re looking for a distraction.”

I tucked a wild strand behind his ear—it popped right back into place.

“Yes. Get me away from this mindless work,” he said, his voice like velvet.

I smiled and kissed his forehead. “Come on, then. Let’s take a walk.”

He stood, letting me take his hand. “Where to?”

“Anywhere. I wouldn’t mind walking around the castle—I still haven’t seen everything.”

He hummed, thoughtful, and linked his arm with mine.

We walked in silence down a baroque hallway. I admired how each room in the Dreaming had its own unique design. “I love how nothing here is ever the same. It’s wonderful.”

He nodded, still quiet—like he was just soaking in the moment. Eventually, we came to the garden balcony. My favorite place.

“Dream,” I said softly. He turned his gaze to mine.

“Yes, my love?”

I unlinked our arms and wrapped mine around his waist, pressing close. “I found a book today in the library. I wanted to ask you about it.”

He tilted his head, sliding his arms around my back. “I believed Lucienne would be the best one to ask. She knows more about those books than I do.”

I kissed his shoulder. “No, darling… this question is for you.”

Our eyes met. He could see the hesitation in mine, and his fingers began tracing soft patterns along my back.

“Well then,” he said gently, “you may ask.”

I took a breath. “The book was a family tree. It says you have a son?”

He stiffened, his hands freezing. But only for a moment—then they resumed their soft movement.

“Yes. I do.” His voice was guarded, emotionless.

“Did you ever plan on telling me?”

“I did… I just—” But before he could finish, Matthew swooped down onto the railing.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt, sir.”

Dream’s eyes sharpened. “Matthew.”

“I know, I know—but it’s important.”

Dream sighed and turned to me with an apologetic look. “I’ll find you later, my love.”

“Okay. Good luck,” I whispered, watching him leave.

But he didn’t find me later.

Two days passed. The Dreaming itself seemed anxious—thick air, grey skies, thunder without rain. I hadn’t seen him. Not in the throne room. Not the library. Not even his chambers.

It felt like he was avoiding me.

I sat slumped in a library chair, cold tea at my side. “Should I not have brought it up? Maybe I freaked him out—”

“Maybe,” Lucienne said, appearing in front of me, “you should ask him yourself.”

I looked up. “How can I ask someone who doesn’t want to be found?”

“That’s exactly why you should,” she said with a knowing smile.

I sighed, stretched, and stood. “You’re right.”

“I know.”

After some searching and a helpful tip from Mervyn (who told me not to say he told me), I made my way to my personal gallery—a gift Dream had made for me, filled with favorite art and a pillow room where I read and sometimes slept.

I didn’t announce myself. Just eased the door open.

He was standing there, arms folded, staring at a portrait I’d painted of him once in a dream.

“There you are,” I said softly.

He turned, visibly startled—as though he hadn’t expected me to be in my own room.

“I’ve been looking everywhere,” I said, brushing my fingers along his cheek. “Are you okay? You never hide from me.”

“I apologize,” he said, avoiding my eyes. “But I assure you, I’m fine.”

I scoffed, amused. “If fine isn’t enough to keep me away, it shouldn’t be enough to push me away.”

He said nothing. I took his hand and sat on the stone bench, tugging him down beside me.

“We’ve talked about this, Morpheus. You need to communicate.”

He sighed. “Yes. I remember.”

I kissed the back of his hand. “Good. So tell me what’s going on.”

He hesitated, then met my gaze. “When you asked about my son… I thought you were put off by the idea of me having children. I feared you might leave.”

A silence settled between us.

Then I rose, stepping in front of him. I cupped his face, kissed his temple.

“I’d never leave you. Know that first.”

I tilted his head so our eyes locked. “You’re powerful. Mysterious. Handsome. And sometimes, absolutely ridiculous. This might not be one of those times—but it needed to be said.”

His hands found my hips, drawing lazy patterns.

“To be honest,” I continued, “I was a little hurt you hadn’t told me. But after reading, after understanding… the hurt’s gone.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but I raised a hand.

“Let me finish. If you really want to know how I feel—” I leaned in close, lips grazing his ear, “—it’s made me want to try for one of our own.”

He inhaled sharply, fingers tightening at my hips.

“That is… if you want children,” I whispered. “If not, I understand.”

He pulled back just enough to meet my eyes. “I do. I want children—with you.”

His words came slow, like each one carried weight he wasn’t used to bearing.

“That’s good to know,” I murmured, kissing his cheek. “I love you, Morpheus. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

He chuckled and pulled me into his lap. I straddled him, and his eyes, wide with love, never left mine.

“I love you more,” he whispered, voice barely above a breath, as though saying it louder might shatter him.

He rested his head against my chest, and we sat there—his arms around me, my hands threading through his hair.

Then I smirked. “Do you want to get to work, then?”

His head lifted quickly. “My love?”

I gave him a look—and understanding dawned in his expression.

“Yes,” he said softly, kissing my jaw, then my cheek. “I would like that very much.”

He stood, my legs wrapping around his waist.

“Where are you taking me?” I laughed.

He kissed my neck, voice low and aching. “To bed, my love. I must have you.”

He carried me into the bedroom, laying me down with care—but pinning me with intention. A playful glint danced in his eyes, but the need behind it was real.

His brooding had melted into something else entirely.

And I was ready for it.

“How many children do you want?” he groaned into my neck, voice low and raw, as he pressed my thighs against my chest and rutted deep into me.

The angle had me gasping—completely folded beneath him, every thrust pounding into me like he was trying to leave something behind. I whined, overwhelmed by the stretch, the pressure, the way he moved like a man starved.

“Oh—fuck… oh fuck, Morpheus,” I moaned, head falling back against the pillow as his hips snapped forward again and again, keeping me locked in a tight, desperate mating press.

He was relentless.

“How many?” he asked again, slower now, grinding his cock deep and pausing to savor every twitch of my body around him. His teeth sank into the curve of my collarbone, and he drove into me again—sharp, brutal.

“Answer me,” he growled, voice laced with hunger.

“T-Two,” I whimpered, barely able to breathe.

“Only two?” he murmured near my ear, his voice a teasing threat. His lips ghosted over my skin, then kissed just behind my ear, soft and slow—a contrast to the rough way he held me down.

“Mmm… fine. Maybe three. Or four,” I choked out, squirming for more friction. “Just—fuck—Dream, just fill me up. I need your cum—please—”

He held me still, refusing to let me take control.

“As you wish,” he whispered against my lips, and then began again—deep, punishing thrusts that made the bed groan beneath us.

His name spilled from my mouth like a prayer and a cry all at once, my voice breaking beneath the rhythm he set. I could barely hold on.

I felt the shift in him when his forehead rested against my chest, breath ragged and desperate.

“I’ll come in you every day and night until it takes,” he grunted, hips beginning to stutter, “—until I see you round with my children.”

His thumb found my clit, rubbing fast and rough, and I came hard around him—my nails raking down his back, my scream echoing into the room.

He followed with a sharp groan, hips stuttering as he spilled into me, pulsing deep, filling me to the brim. His breathing turned to gasps, like the force of it had knocked the air from his lungs.

Even as his orgasm faded, he stayed inside me, thrusting slowly to make sure not a drop was wasted. Only when he was sure did he finally pull out. We both moaned at the loss.

He got up, padded to the bathroom, and returned with a warm cloth. He cleaned me with care, kissing the inside of my thigh before crawling back into bed and pulling me against him.

His chest pressed to my back, still rising and falling with uneven breaths. One hand rested over my lower belly, possessive and proud, a smug smile tugging at his lips.

Like he already knew it would take. But even if it did… he'd keep fucking me until we were sure

“You’re insatiable,” I mumbled once my mind was clear enough to form full thoughts.

He chuckled, kissing my shoulder. “You bring out this side of me, lover.”

Then quieter, more serious, “I’ll take care of you through it all. There will not be a day—or night—where you’re alone.”

His voice was a promise I could feel in my bones.

Even if this was just practice… I really did hope it took.

Because building a family with him wasn’t just a fantasy.

It was a dream we both wanted.

#fanfic #reader insert #dream of the endless #dream x reader #dream x reader smut #morpheus #the sandman #the sandman smut #dream #morpheus x reader #the sandman x reader #sandman x reader #sandman x you #the sandman x you #dream of the endless x reader

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bitchinbarzal · 1 day ago

Text

One Car Ride — J Herbert

⸻

You don’t remember the impact.

Just the sound.

Glass shattering like it came from inside your chest. Metal folding. A horn wailing, then silence, then static.

The ambulance ride is a blur of lights and cold oxygen through plastic. You know your name, you know the day of the week, you know you didn’t hit anyone, that the guy ran a red light. You know you’re lucky. You know that’s what people keep saying.

The nurse tells you to call someone.

You nod and say you will.

But it’s hours before you do.

You sit in the hospital bed with an IV in your arm and dried blood in your hair and the stale taste of fear in your mouth. Your phone sits on the tray beside you. You’ve scrolled past his name five times already.

It’s almost 2:30 a.m.

You don’t even remember pressing call. You just remember the ring.

And then him.

“Hello?”

His voice sounds tired. But clear. Awake. You can almost see him sitting up, rubbing his eyes, already alert.

And maybe that’s why your throat burns.

Why your voice trembles.

Because he still answers.

“Hey,” you manage.

He pauses. “Where are you?”

You swallow hard. “Hospital.”

Silence. Then the shift in his tone, sharp and serious.

“What happened?”

You tell him. As simply as you can. Car accident. Red light. You’re okay, just bruised. CT scan looked good. They want to keep you overnight because of the concussion.

He asks questions in between breaths. Do you remember everything? Are you alone? Did they call your emergency contact? You answer as best as you can, though your head is starting to spin again.

Then you say it.

And it comes out the way confessions only do at night. Quiet. Shaky. True.

“I’m calling because I realised I’m one car ride, accident, diagnosis away from dying without telling you I love you.”

There’s a pause.

A long one.

You bite the inside of your cheek, hard. You didn’t say it to guilt him. You said it because you needed to.

You meant it.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you murmur. “I just… I didn’t want to leave this world without saying that out loud.”

He breathes in like he’s going to speak. But you beat him to it.

“I know we ended things. I know it was the right thing at the time. I’m not asking for anything. I’m not trying to make this harder.”

But it already is.

“I just needed you to know that if I hadn’t gotten to wake up tonight, my last thought would’ve been how much I still love you.”

He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds.

Then he exhales. “Text me the hospital name.”

“Justin—”

“You don’t want me to come? Don’t tell me where you are.”

“That’s not why I called.”

“I know,” he says. “But I’m coming anyway.”

You blink fast, eyes stinging. “Why?”

“Because you’re not going to die thinking I don’t love you back.”

It knocks the air from your lungs.

“Just stay awake until I get there, pretty girl,” he says, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You close your eyes. “Okay.”

He hangs up. You stare at the screen, fingers shaking as you text the name of the hospital.

It’s only later, when you’re finally alone again, that you realize how easily it all came back. His voice. His words. The safety of being someone he still calls pretty girl.

He’s there in less than forty minutes.

He looks like he didn’t bother with much. Hoodie. Sweatpants. Hair a mess. But his eyes find you instantly, and you see it all there.

The panic.

The relief.

The love.

He steps into the room and just stops for a second, looking at you. You’re pale. A bruise is blooming along your collarbone. You’re tired. He knows all of it.

But still—he smiles. Just a little.

“Hi,” he says.

Your voice catches. “Hi.”

And then you cry.

Not because it hurts.

But because he’s real.

He’s at your side in a second, arms around you gently. You bury your face in his chest and let yourself be small.

“You’re okay,” he murmurs into your hair. “You’re okay, I’ve got you.”

“I was so scared,” you whisper.

His arms tighten. “Me too.”

You cry harder.

When you finally calm down enough to breathe, he pulls back just enough to look at you. His thumb brushes under your eye, wiping the tear tracks.

“You know,” he says quietly, “it’s really unfair you said it first.”

You blink. “What?”

“I had this whole speech in my head,” he admits. “Every time I thought about you. Every time I missed you. Which was all the time.”

Your lips tremble.

He leans closer, resting his forehead against yours. “I love you. I never stopped. I just thought you needed space. That I was taking up too much of your world.”

“You were my world,” you say. “I didn’t need space. I needed you.”

His breath hitches.

You tilt your head slightly. “Why didn’t you call?”

He smiles, sad. “Because I’m a coward. And I thought you deserved someone who wasn’t.”

You shake your head. “You were always brave when it mattered.”

He kisses you. Not the kind of kiss that means we’re back together. The kind that means I see you. I missed you. I’m still yours.

You fall asleep a little later with his hoodie draped over you, and his chair pulled up beside your bed, his hand in yours.

You wake to him still there, thumbing through a hospital pamphlet on concussions like it’s a playbook.

“You stayed,” you say groggily.

He looks up, eyes warm. “Told you I was coming anyway.”

You smile. “I meant what I said, you know.”

He stands, leans over to press a kiss to your forehead. “So did I.”

You’re discharged. You’ve been staying at his place. Nothing’s official, but everything feels like it used to, only deeper somehow. Softer.

One night, while you’re curled up on the couch with your legs in his lap, he pulls a folded paper from his wallet.

“What’s that?”

He hands it to you.

It’s the discharge note. The one with your name and the date and the words “motor vehicle collision” circled in blue pen.

“You kept this?”

He nods. “Because that was the night I almost lost you. And the night I got you back.”

#nfl imagine #justin herbert imagine #justin herbert x reader

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suguru-getos · 1 day ago

Text

Moon's Waxing

Geto Suguru x F! Reader

Summary: After meeting you, Suguru decides to face his crippling sadness and do something he would enjoy. Spending time with you. You don’t need to read part one tbh, but it would be nice to ^\^ Author's notes: Oh maaa GAWD this is fluffy and slow-burn. I love loving Suguru so read it with me and love him with me :3 Part 1 Link

Things feel weird, different even. Today, when Suguru lies on his dorm's bed. He feels an emotion he hasn't felt in ages. Hope. he feels the battered but persevering limbs of hope hug his aching heart. He feels the way hope looks like - you. Poised, but stranded just like him, warm but extinguished... just like him.

Suguru: Have you slept?

He doesn't understand why he sent that as his first text. He feels a rock in his throat. A rock of uncertainty. He doesn't want you to flake out on him. He doesn't want you to... leave him. Suguru Geto, who abandons everyone... not out of his will. Out of his lack of keeping up, is scared of being ghosted.

You: Yeah just about to, not yet. Why?

He perks up like a lightning bolt when he sees your response, gnawing at his bottom lip as he stares at the message for god knows how long, before responding. Curled up to his side.

Suguru: I was just wondering if you'd like to visit Kyoto with me.

Fuck... is it too much? Does he sound too much? But he's a man, and an affirmative, masculine one even. Shouldn't men be chasing what they're after... he's not even... chasing you. He's... fuck, what is he doing?

Don't double text... don't double text... don't double--

Suguru: We could visit Fushimi Inari Taisha shrine... the weather is great these days. Besides, I have some work there.

Now that's also true, Kyoto is the home of Jujutsu and Suguru does need to go to the Kyoto Tech school to collect one of his nunchucks.... even if you reject him... It's okay. What can change even. His life would flow normally. With the creeping arms of death, the stench and taste of vomit of those curses he consumes.

You: I would love to! Would tomorrow morning at 7 work for you?

His eyes are saucers, wide-eyed and shocked. His heart is not able to give him a break at all... what is this rising heartbeat. He was only able to feel this when he was a junior in school. Battling curses... this is what temporary relief does to you I guess. The relief of being seen for who you are, not what you do.

The next day, you are at the train station on time. You look ethereal to him as always, his jaw clenched shut so he doesn't embarrass himself by saying something weird. Suguru's social skills are good, but something happens when you come across him. Wearing a white dress, a stark contrast with your dark, new-moon night-esque hair.

"You look stunning." He hums, looking at you and blinking softly. Like he wasn't prepared to hear the sound of this compliment in his voice, either. "Thank you, Suguru. My name is..." You gnaw at your lip, oh yes-- you need to tell him your name after all. But, as promised, it should be with a smile on your face.

You walk closer to him, gently gripping his hand and intertwining your fingers with it. "There we go, need something to make me smile first."

Suguru's heart cannot stand on its own anymore. Thank goodness, you are a non-sorcerer. Thank goodness, you are weak. If Satoru were here, he would embarrass and shame Suguru to the extent of his haywired heart. "My name is Y/N." You smile. A smile... so dazzling, why would you let it go in the first place?

He smiles back, his usual close-eyed soft curl of his lips. "You have a beautiful name." He squeezes your hand gently. So soft, so tender... why shouldn't he protect non-sorcerers if people like you still exist in this world?

He doesn't dare... let that hand go. He would fight the almighty should he need to.

When you settle in the train, the bigger and beefier Suguru beside you, he initiates the conversation again -- "Just because you have told me your name. Doesn't mean I will stop with the Little one." He smirks even. Oh, the things you make him do.

Your eyes are poised and fixated on his dark circles, and his hair looks less disheveled from the time you saw him last. "I see, I understand."

He loves that you don't say much just to fill the gaps. Don't overstretch yourself. "So, Suguru..." Oh the way-- the way-- his name sounds from your lips. It should be criminal. "Hmm?" "Do you think taking me to Kyoto to visit a shrine is a considerable step to getting to know each other?"

You speak with such ruthless confidence, but such untamed softness too; he only nods. He wants to win you over. He wants to... spend his time with you. Just his beautiful, angelic goddess and him. Maybe then, when he does come home after carrying the weight of thousands of curses... he would feel soft arms wrap around him, and forget his grief.

"I just want you to know more than my name." He hums, like a lullaby, coaxing you to comfort. He has seen the bustling scenery from the train window so many times... but today everything seems to have meaning. Everything seems to have a new light.

When you get out of the Kyoto station, your eyes linger on the nearest coffee shop. Suguru still hasn't let go of your hand. Even if it's become slightly sweaty. "I wouldn't fade, if you stop holding me, Suguru." You decide to tease. Not remembering the last time you felt held, either.

"Little ones get lost if they're not accompanied by guardians." He hums, straight-faces as ever as you roll your eyes, dragging him to the coffee shop.

"Matcha for both of us, iced, oat-milk, caramel, and vanilla syrup. Onegai." You bow. Suguru raises a brow, "You didn't ask me... if I wanted to have that?"

"You didn't let go of my hand. Little ones are usually very stubborn, too. Their guardians must listen, or they throw a fit." You squint at him, but the softness in his gaze softens yours too. In the end, you can't help but evade eye contact.

The next hour or two were just two teenagers who had lost themselves, trying to find a common way by holding hands together. Literally, and figuratively. Kyoto is peaceful, and the weather is cloudy and pleasant. The humidity isn't killing you today. You walk the shrine pathway with him, humming softly at the way his eyes sparkle when he looks at you.

Suguru is having the time of his life. "Do you think the old people of Nihon knew something that we don't? Why else would they make young people get married and live... together?" Suguru, at his core, is a philosophical man, and right now... the idea of an anchor sounds soothing.

"We are just nine thousand steps in; we have to complete the rest." You snicker, and this is the first time he sees the smile he was so enamoured with imagining....

A faint blush creeps on his face when you try to avoid his question. But Suguru can be persistent. "Still waiting for your answer, little one."

"I just think you can get married whenever you want to. Sometimes it helps, sometimes marriage becomes shackles you want to get out of. So, maybe now, we know something they didn't?"

He hums, satisfied with your argument. "Then, how do you guarantee that the shackles aren't there?"

"By walking twelve thousand steps in the Fushimi shrine holding hands."

Oh shit. You are sneaky, and bold.... and even though the light in your eyes has only returned partially. You know exactly what Suguru meant. He is flustered, looking ahead and clearing his throat with a nod. Yes. By walking the Fushimi Inari shrine...

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #geto suguru #geto x reader #geto x y/n #jjk x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk comfort #geto comfort #geto fluff

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chalantzah · 3 days ago

Text

BAGS

roommate!hamzah oneshot

‘can you see me? i’m waiting for the right time.”

warnings : tension, no smut (sorry), clairo inspired

you standing side by side with hamzah in the tiny bathroom, sharing the same mirror, the same fluorescent light that makes every pore visible.

he’s in a well-loved and worn t shirt paired with comfy sweats, toothbrush lazily hanging from his mouth as he looks through the drawers for his mouthwash.

this is the routine.

just you and him, silence. random creaks from the old flooring of your apartment.

his arm bumps your slightly, not hard at all but hard enough to knock you out of your thoughts and glance up.

he catches your eyes in the mirror and grins with his mouth full of toothpaste.

you try not to smile back.

you fail and softly match his grin.

“movie?” he asks once you’ve both finished up and he’s toweling off his face.

you nod, too tired to offer anything else.

it’s always like this. late nights that turn into even later nights. you say you’re going to bed early and then suddenly you’re on the couch under a shared blanket watching something stupid and letting the tv sounds fill your living room.

you don’t even know when it started.

you don’t know how it got this far.

all you know is that when you sit down beside him, your knee touches his and he doesn’t move.

and neither do you.

the apartment is quiet except for the movie and the low buzz of the fridge.

hamzah’s hair is still slightly damp from his shower, he smells like your expensive lavender bodywash.

you should be annoyed. you’re not.

he laughs at something on screen and you look at him instead of the movie.

you don’t realize until it’s too late. until he glances back and catches you looking.

he raises an eyebrow.

you shake your head. look away. pull the blanket tighter around you.

“what?”

“nothing.” you murmur.

“liar.”

you don’t answer.

but he doesn’t push either.

twenty minutes later, you’ve forgotten what movie you’re even watching, your thoughts eating you alive.

hamzah shifts beside you, and suddenly he’s closer. shoulder to shoulder. knee to thigh. the blanket now shared fully. your heart doing something weird.

you breathe in.

you don’t know how he does it. how he always makes it feel like nothing’s changed when everything has.

you were supposed to be roommates. just roommates. just cheap rent and split groceries and sharing toothpaste because it was easier.

but then there were late night takeout runs and blanket stealing and sleepy “good mornings” with his voice still raspy. there were all the times you took care of eachother when one was hungover.

it doesn’t feel like roommates anymore.

you just don’t know what it feels like.

the movie ends. he doesn’t move. neither do you. the credits roll. he glances over at you.

“you ‘kay?”

you nod, even though your chest feels too full.

you wish you could ask.

wish you could say something like, “do you think about me too?” “do you know how often i almost say it?”

but you don’t.

instead, you say, “i might move out.”

his whole body stills.

you weren’t supposed to say that.

“what?”

you chew on your lip. “i don’t know. just thinking about it as an option.”

“why?”

you shrug in response. “maybe it’s time.”

he looks at you. really looks at you, as if he's trying to read through your thoughts.

“did i do something?”

“no.”

“well.. did someone say something?”

“no.”

he’s quiet for a second. “then what is it?”

you can’t answer that without breaking.

so you lie.

“i just think it’s been a while. maybe we need space.” you say with a short swallow.

his jaw tightens and you see his brow ever so slightly raise. but he doesn’t say anything right away.

and then, quietly, and bluntly answers.

“well if you want to leave, i can’t stop you.”

you nod, even though it hurts more than you thought it would.

neither of you speak for the rest of the night.

when he gets up to go to bed, he doesn’t say goodnight. you're just left to stare at the blank tv screen for a long time after he’s gone.

for the next week, you don’t avoid him on purpose.

not really anyways. you still answer when he talks to you, still sit next to him on the couch when there’s nowhere else to go. you still pass him the cereal when he reaches for it in the mornings and still let your fingers brush when he hands you the remote.

you’re not avoiding him. you’re just pulling back. quieting down. watching the way he moves through the apartment like you're preparing yourself for the fact that you won’t be here much longer.

you’re not sure if he notices. you think he might. he’s too observant not to. but he doesn’t bring it up, and you don’t either.

instead, you both live in this weird in-between, where nothing is wrong, but nothing feels right in your friendship anymore.

it’s like something cracked open after that night. or maybe it’s just been slowly splitting for a while, and now you can’t pretend it’s not.

either way, you feel it. and you think he does too.

you spend most of thursday in your room. your excuse is that you’re tired. too much work, too much thinking, not enough sleep. but the truth is, you just don’t trust yourself to be around him right now.

not when everything you haven’t said is pressing against your teeth and is slowly destroying you.

by the time you do emerge, it’s past 11 pm and the apartment is quiet. you go through the motions without thinking. grab your toothbrush, wash your face, flick the bathroom light on with your elbow.

you’re halfway through brushing your teeth when you hear him coming down the hallway.

you don’t expect him to stop at the door. or to knock once, gently, like he’s asking permission.

when you glance over, he’s leaning in the doorway, holding his own toothbrush and a lazy kind of smile.

“mind if i join?”

you shrug.

he steps in, stands beside you, and for a second it’s like nothing’s changed. like you’re just two roommates brushing your teeth in the cramped little bathroom you’ve shared for over a year now.

but it feels like it has changed.

his sleeve brushes yours when he shifts. your eyes meet in the mirror. you both look away.

he breaks the silence first, his voice soft around toothpaste. “you’ve been quiet lately.”

you spit into the sink, take your time rinsing.

“just tired.”

he hums like he doesn’t quite buy it, but doesn’t push.

you expect him to leave once you’re done, but he stays. brushes slowly. runs the water too long. maybe trying to stretch the moment out.

maybe not.

either way, you towel off your face and slip past him without another word.

the next morning, you’re both in the kitchen at the same time. it’s early, still kind of grey outside. you’re making tea. he’s pouring cereal into a chipped bowl, yawning like he didn’t sleep well.

you’re half-listening to the kettle, trying to keep your hands steady, when he speaks again.

his voice is quiet. almost careful.

“do you ever.. feel like things are different now?”

you pause.

then, cluelessly reply “different how?”

he shrugs, leans his hip against the counter, spoon hanging loose in one hand.

“i don’t know. not in a bad way. just… not like when we first moved in together”

you nod, even though you’re not sure he’s looking.

“yeah i guess. sometimes.” you casually reply, but all you want to do is scream confessions at the top of your lungs.

the kettle clicks off and neither of you move to grab it.

he exhales, almost like he’s about to say something else. and maybe he is. but instead, he asks something that catches you off guard.

“what if you stayed?”

you turn to look at him, the question hanging in the space between you.

“what?”

his eyes are soft, unreadable.

“just… what if you didn’t move out?”

your chest tightens.

“why?”

he hesitates. shrugs. looks down into his cereal.

“we’re good roommates.”

the words hit harder than they should. because you know you are. you always have been, and you always will be,

just roommates.

but that’s not why you’ve been losing sleep over him. that’s not what all of this has been building toward.

you force a small nod and a smile.

“i’ll think about it.”

it’s a lie, and you think he knows that.

he doesn’t say anything else.

you pour your tea, fingers trembling, and walk out of the kitchen without looking back.

you spend the afternoon folding laundry that you don’t remember putting in the machine.

your hands move on autopilot, smoothing fabric, lining up seams, trying to keep yourself distracted. at some point, one of his shirts ends up in the pile , the grey one you always steal, the one that’s a little too big on you and smells like whatever detergent he uses mixed with something that’s just... him.

you hold it for too long. your fingers bunch the collar, then smooth it out again.

then you fold it neatly and place it on top of the stack like it doesn’t mean anything.

like it’s not the closest thing you’ve held to him in days.

that night, it rains.

you’re curled up on the couch, blanket tucked around your legs, the tv playing something you’re not watching. the sound of the rain fills the room in waves. soft. constant. calming, if not for the static inside your chest.

you don’t hear him come in right away.

just the click of the door. the shuffle of wet shoes.

you look over with a confused frown while he’s standing there, soaked through, hair dripping onto his hoodie.

“forgot my umbrella,” he mutters, pushing the door shut behind him.

you toss him a towel without saying anything.

he catches it and scrubs at his hair, then peels the hoodie off and tosses it onto the counter.

he’s still shivering when he walks over.

“what are we watching?”

you shrug.

“can i sit?”

you nod softly, shifting just enough for him to drop beside you.

the couch dips under his weight. your legs brush.

neither of you move away.

you don’t know how long you sit like that. listening to the rain. not really paying attention to the movie. just existing in the same space. not touching, but close enough to want to.

eventually, he speaks.

“do you remember our first night here?”

you smile, just barely.

“you burned the frozen pizza.”

“you blamed it on me.”

“because it was your fault.”

he laughs quietly.

“yeah. maybe it was.”

you both fall quiet again.

then, softer, “i miss that night. i think about it a lot”

you don’t mean to, but your heart squeezes.

because it did feel easy. back when you didn’t know what this would turn into. before everything started meaning too much.

“me too,” you whisper.

you don’t look at him. and he doesn’t look at you.

but you think you both feel it.

whatever this is.

whatever it’s becoming.

you don’t fall asleep on the couch that night, but you pretend to.

and when he drapes the blanket over you and walks away, you almost call out to him.

almost.

but you don’t.

not yet.

you don’t talk much the next day again.

still though, it’s not like you’re avoiding each other. you just move quieter and softer.

you’re both aware something’s shifted and neither of you wants to tip it too far.

you’ve been lying in bed for over an hour, the lamp still on beside you, your laptop open to a blank google doc you haven’t touched. your chest’s been feeling tight all day, not quite anxious, but not settled either.

he slowly knocks on the door of your bedroom with his fist.

you sit up when you hear the knock.

“yeah?”

he cracks the door open, just enough to poke his head in. his hoodie’s a little wrinkled. his hair’s messy. he looks like he hasn’t slept.

“can we talk?”

you nod, too fast. “yeah.”

he steps inside and shuts the door behind him.

the room goes quiet again.

he doesn’t sit at first. just stands there, eyes flicking around like he’s stalling.

you shift a little on the bed, pulling your knees to your chest.

“eveything 'kay?” you ask, just above a whisper.

he breathes out slowly, nodding once before answering.

“i don’t want you to move out.” he bluntly lets out.

you blink.

your stomach flips, and not in a subtle way.

he finally sits, down on the edge of your bed, his hands clasped together between his knees. he doesn’t look at you yet, just down at the floor like the words are still forming.

“i don’t know what changed. i just know it’s been different for a while now. and i’ve been trying not to ruin it by saying something. but i feel like i already ruined it by not saying anything at all.” he rants.

your heart is pounding so hard it’s dizzying.

“you didn’t ruin anything,” you say, voice shaking.

he glances up. meets your eyes. “then why were you gonna leave?”

you swallow. look down.

“because i didn’t know if you felt it too,” you say softly. “and staying here, pretending like i wasn’t completely out of my mind and in love with you, was getting harder every day.” you spit out,

the silence hits all at once.

you don’t mean to say it like that. not that raw. not that direct. but it’s out now, your words floating between you and hamzah, and you can’t take it back.

his eyes are wide. lips slightly parted. like he’s frozen mid-thought.

you let out a shaky breath.

“holy shit- i'm so sorry,” you mutter. “i didn’t mean to-”

“you’re in love with me?”

your chest caves in a little.

but you nod anyway.

“yeah.”

for a moment, you think he might not say anything at all, and just leave and never talk to you again.

but then he moves.

closer.

slowly.

his voice drops lower than you’ve ever heard it before.

“i’ve been in love with you since the night we split a bottle of wine on the kitchen floor and you made me laugh so hard i cried.”

you blink.

“you remember that?”

“i remember everything.”

your heart is fully gone at this point.

he’s closer now, knee pressed against yours, gaze never leaving your face.

“can i kiss you?” he asks, barely above a whisper.

you nod, instantly, breath catching.

“please.”

and then he does.

it’s slow. careful. not hesitant, just deliberate, like he wants to remember every second of it.

his hand cradles your jaw, fingers feather-light, and your lips slot together like they’ve been trying to find their way back for years.

you melt into it without thinking. one hand gripped onto his hair, the other pressed to his chest where his heart is hammering just like yours.

when he pulls back, barely an inch away, his forehead rests against yours.

“so,” he murmurs, “does this mean you’re staying?”

you laugh, breathless.

“yeah,” you whisper. “i’m stuck”

he grins. presses another kiss to your mouth, quicker this time, more certain.

you fall asleep that night curled into him, limbs tangled, hearts finally quiet.

and this time, when he says goodnight, it’s whispered against your hair with a smile.

WE’RE SOOO BACK

TAGLIST :

@dwohtsgf

@gabri3la-sturns

@cherrieluvrr

@caramia-mara

@marixoa

@valluvsu

@acidkat3

@pictureperfectblue

@aalanahh0

@martiniibluee07

@mopslusher

@ladylincoln

@officialthrad

@strawbjessi

@urfavblonde27

@xoxo-yamil3t

@infinitefireflies

@notmeee3

@freakzah444

@beybeys-world

@therealemkatz

@idkwhoiamlol1

@sourkitten6

#hamzahthefantastic #martin and hamzah #slushy noobz #hamzah imagines #hamzah x reader #slushy virus #hamzah angst #hamzah fic #hamzah fluff #hamzahthefanatasticxreader #oneshot

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queen-of-gotham · 1 day ago

Text

Before.

(Seishiro Nagi x F!Reader)

Word count: 1k

Synopsis: In which you and Nagi have been together since before blue lock.

Notes from the Batcave: for ✨this✨ request! Enjoy!!

You met in high school. He was asleep.

You were top of the class, focused, caffeine-fueled and unbothered, until the soft sound of someone snoring across the room made you glance up.

White hair. Dead eyes. Hoodie up. Notebook untouched.

You squinted. Thought, he’s either a burnout or a genius.

Turned out he was both.

⸻

He never did the homework. You always did yours first thing.

He never studied for finals. You rewrote the curriculum for fun.

You learned how to bandage his hand after a scraped fall from a convenience store shortcut, and he decided he’d follow you anywhere.

At 15, your plan was clear:

Get into med school. Become a doctor. Take care of Nagi, who clearly could not take care of himself.

You thought maybe he’d go into game design. Maybe be a barista. Maybe become the guy who reads light novels for a living.

Then Blue Lock happened and the world tilted sideways.

⸻

Now you’re a licensed doctor. Still working 18-hour shifts. Still with your idiot genius boyfriend, except now he’s the one with millions of fans, a shoe deal, and a 3-story apartment he got for the two of you.

People always ask you, “Why don’t you just let him take care of you?”

“Don’t you know he’s rich now?”

“You could retire. You could relax. You don’t need to work that hard.”

And you always says the same thing, dry as ever, “This was never the plan. The plan was for me to take care of him. Then we found out he’s stupid good at soccer.”

⸻

You’re opposites in every possible way.

You wake up before sunrise. He barely wakes up at all.

You triple check your schedule. He’s never looked at one in his life.

You’re focused, meticulous, type-A.

He’s… Nagi.

But when you’re slumped on the couch with aching shoulders and hospital badge still clipped to your coat, Nagi wordlessly tugs off her shoes and hands her a water bottle.

When he’s on the field, scanning the stands with a blank expression, his eyes always settle on you, arms crossed, white coat over your seat, watching every move.

You don’t say much, but you don’t need to.

⸻

Fan tweet:

“So nagi’s girlfriend is a doctor???? like a real one???”

Reply:

“yes. she’s literally an ER physician and still shows up to his games like it’s her part-time job”

Reply:

“they asked her if she’d quit now that he’s rich and she said ‘i wasn’t raised to be taken care of by a man with gamer thumbs’”

Reply:

“she’s my hero actually.”

Reply:

“someone said she stitched his eyebrow shut with one hand while texting his PR team with the other. legend behavior.”

Reply:

“she calls him dumb and he just grins at her like she invented water.”

Reply:

“they are my roman empire.”

⸻

Nagi never posts on social media.

But when you finish a brutal 30-hour shift, you comes home to a bento box waiting on the counter with a sticky note:

“Eat. Or I’ll make you nap on me.”

(Which he does anyway.)

⸻

In one rare joint interview, after Nagi scored the winning goal at the World Cup semis, they ask you what you thinks of his success.

You blink, tilt your head, Sip your black coffee.

“I think it’s hilarious, honestly.”

Nagi huffs a soft laugh beside you, hiding it in your shoulder.

“He’s the laziest person I’ve ever met,” you add. “The fact that he’s also one of the best athletes in the world is proof that the universe runs on glitches.”

The internet implodes.

⸻

“You could stop,” he says one night, voice muffled against your neck.

You’re curled up beside him on the couch. Still in scrubs. Still smelling like antiseptic and sleep deprivation.

He strokes your back lazily, like he knows you’re seconds from passing out.

“Stop what?” You murmur softly.

“Working. Doing… doctor stuff. You don’t need to anymore.”

You’re quiet for a long moment, “Would you stop playing if I told you you didn’t have to anymore?”

His fingers pause.

“…No.”

“Exactly.”

⸻

The thing is, you didn’t plan this. Neither of you ever expected the world stage.

But that never changed your relationship.

You still threaten to sedate him when he skips meals.

He still dedicates his arbitrary video game wins to you.

You still hand him hot packs for his joints before games.

He still pulls you into bed when you’re working too late and says, “You’re smart enough. Come to sleep.”

⸻

Post-match media clip (from a now-iconic interview):

Interviewer: “You’re dating a doctor. That’s amazing.”

Nagi: (yawning) “Mhm. She’s smart.”

Interviewer: “Does she let you take care of her now that you’re a pro?”

Nagi: (confused) “Take care of her? That’s her job.”

Interviewer: “You mean she takes care of you?”

Nagi: (shrugs, smiling) “She always has.”

⸻

He keeps a picture of you and him in his wallet.

It’s from before Blue Lock. Before all of this.

You have got your arm around him, tugging him upright in front of a vending machine after a late study session. He’s half asleep, and you’re laughing at him. You look like total nobodies.

He loves that photo.

Because to him, it’s proof.

He’s not loved because of who he is now, but because of who he’s always been to you.

At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter if you’re trending.

You didn’t stay because he’s famous. You didn’t stay for the money. You stayed because you said you would.

Because once upon a time, you looked at a sleepy, disorganized boy with white hair and said, “You don’t know it yet, but I’m gonna keep you alive.”

And you meant it.

✨Join the Taglist✨

Taglist: @ninaceylan @jeko1 @irethepotato @jellibean420

⚽️Bluelock Masterlist⚽️ 🦇Return to the Batcave🦇

#nagi seishiro x you #seishiro nagi x y/n #bllk seishiro #seishiro nagi x you #seishiro nagi x reader #nagi seishiro x reader #seishiro nagi #nagi seishiro #nagi x you #bllk nagi #blue lock nagi #nagi x reader #blue lock imagines #blue lock x reader

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writingoddess1125 · 1 day ago

Text

A Bottle from Then and Now

Simon "Ghost" Riley x FemReader + OOC

Both Fluffy sweet and Sour Sadness

Warnings: Mentions of Childhood abuse and some sad thoughts/topics

Simon knew it was such a stereotype but fuck- It was one for a reason..

He'd gotten home from his latest assignment and was winding down in possibly the most clique domestic thing possible.

Laid back in the big comfortable recliner with the TV on some random show he didn't care about, his 12 month old daughter Lily laid across his legs fast asleep as he patted a mindless beat on her back and taking micro sips a low alcohol beer you'd picked up for him which made him grimace each time it hit his lips.

"Ugh- This is nasty.."

"Why are you drinking it?-"

You ask, Looking at him amused from the loveseat. He shrugged taking another sip.

"It's like fruity piss-"

You let out a small cackle as you see Simon face grimace lightly smacking his lips in disgust. He'd been teasing you all night about your terrible pick from the store-

"Stop drinking damnit- Besides You had said you'd wanted something different Si"

"Its defiently different. It's like.. A train wreck in my mouth- It's amazing how bad it is.. It keeps drawing me in"

You start to now laugh loudly as he gave a fake cough, Looking at you and holding up the bottle to read the lable once again.

"Organic- Great start there luv.. Strawberry Cherry Sourgummy Beer"

He wheezes at the very end and you're no better at how truthfully how ridiculous it sounded especially from his lips.

Yeah- This was defiently one that would be nursed if not tossed out about halfway through..

The two of you laugh which made Simon legs shake. Staring Lily slightly as Simon paused his little pats on his daughter to make her settle. Rolling your eyes you get up from the couch and scoop up Lily from his legs with a playful glare.

"I'm going to put Lily to bed go you go on and finish your Organic Strawberry Cherry Sourgummy Beer-"

"Sure you don't want a sip before you go Luv?"

You flipped him off as you walk off earning a ugly snort from the man. Stretching a bit still hearing Elijah finishing up brushing his teeth.

"Bug? You almost done in there?"

"Yeah!"

Elijah ran out from the downstairs backroom and clearly not paying attention to anything with the grace only you had- Absolutely tripped on the air apparently and just ate it face first into the old carpet.

Simon jumped a bit in his seat wide eyed sitting up quick as he set the bottle next to him.

"Fuck mate-"

Elijah jumping up like it was nothing smiling brightly as ever. Simon waving him over quick.

"You alright? Come 'ere"

He looked over his son, Seeing no bumps or bruises on the boy despite eating it.

"I'm okay Daddy!"

"Alright Lad let's not do that ey?"

Simon chuckled at his tough little boy who nodded cheerfully, rolling up from his chair hearing the rice crispty treat sound of his back he yawned a bit.

"Up we to-"

Taking his barely sipped bottle of beer with him. A force of habit at this point he had now since Lily started to be able to hold herself up on furniture and like to grab random things to drink.

"It's past your bedtime anyway-"

Simon swooped down fast as he grabbed the boy by his legs as lightning speed and hoisted him up making Elijah dangle upside-down like a fresh caught fish. A habit that seemed to make your son break out in a fit of laughter each time as Simon carried him to his room.

Marching up to your son's room he was quick to toss the boy onto the bed making him laugh loudly as he settled under his blankets knowing the routine.

Simon plopping down on the tiny bed- Well more of slid his upper mass next to his son as he awkwardly let his legs settle to the side of the bed to not destroy it.

"You need a hair cut Lad"

Simon grumbled, looking over the dark locks of his son with a large calloused hand.

"But Mrs Hartz says she thinks my hair is cute"

"Well Mrs Hartz is a very nice saying that but I don't know how well you'll take care of your hair if it's long"

Elijah gave a toothy smile.

"But you say it's good for girls to find me cute-"

"Well, Maybe not a women in her 50s Bug"

Simon snorted, however deciding to take mental note of that to be looked into later.

Elijah after that began to talk his ear off about random things, Simon humming like he understood even if it was past him-

But his son was happy to just random shit- however it made him happy non the less, especially as Elijah started to doze off from talking.

"And then.. the golden freddy- is actually.."

Simon started to chuckle as Elijah was now just mumbling half asleep.

"Love ya Bug"

He said calmly, Kissing the top of Elijah's head as he slipped from the bed. Rolling up with a bit of a grunt as he walked to the doorway to just look across the room as if some silent danger could possibly be there- which landed him at the damn window.

He'd forgotten to close the curtain which he prepared to do but he flinched when he saw himself in the glass.

A cold chill going through his body as he felt every muscle in his body tense up.

...

It was like for a split second he swore saw his own Father..

Leaned against the doorway of his room with a drink in his hand just how he was posed now, It brought back memories he had done everything in his soul to forget.

He remembered the twisted smell of sweat, liquor and cigarettes.

He saw himself laid in that dirty old bed holding the blankets up to his face in terror staring at that silhouette as he knew that of he was standing there it ment his evening would be disturbed and terrifying.

Simon looked over himself in a blind panic, as if he was in a similar state of disheveled- As if his nice pajamas pants you'd gotten him for Christmas was somehow dirty sweats with alcohol and piss stains. That his old military shirt he wore to bed was a ripped up sweat drenched wife beater with sprinkles of blood from his mother. One hand clean and empty instead of a stained belt but the other hand held a bottle which made his whole body shake at the single similarity.

His eyes almost bugged out as he searched for any sign of the flash of memory he'd just witnessed.

No needles or rat shit on the floor just different toys needing to be picked up. No terrified child covered in bruises and flinching at the sight of light. Just Elijah was laid now snoring softly clutching his favorite toy of the week to his chest on the squeaky clean bed with Minecraft characters on it.

Slowly he moved from the doorway- the same cold feeling settling in his chest as he didn't want to step close to that window.. Closing the painted door just enough to were there was a crack like he did every night and walking down the hall silent.

He felt his heart beat in his ears, almost woozy as if an explosion went off next to him.

Leaning against the wall he tried to get his breathing down- Pausing once he realized he was next to the nursery cracking it open seeing Lily in her crib.

Seeing his toddler sound asleep with her little hand on her face which reminded him of a drama queen trying not to get their photo taken.

He sighed heavily then, his children were safe.. The panic at least somehow moving past him as he moved away from her door.

Simon comes into your shared room and sits on the edge bed, You sit up prepared to have some idle chatter and sweet kisses- However you see the rather somber look on his face staring at the solitary beer he had set on the dresser like it had wronged him.

"Simon?"

You move over slowly to him as he finally tore his eyes from the bottle.

"I.. I just don't understand.."

He whispered softly, looking at his palms as his lips hardened in a line.

"He beat the shit out of us like it's nothing.. literal torture for nothing- Absolutely Fucking Nothing..."

You blinked in surprise at this.

For some reason it seemed to settle on him finally, a reality he had wanted to ignore for so long. That all that had been done to him truly had been for nothing- It wasn't like there was a excuse to begin with yet standing there sort of had him settle on the fact that he'd gone through what he had for truly no real rhyme or reason.

"There really was no reason.. He was just- Evil"

You sat next to him, Listening to his words. You wanted to hug him, you wanted to hold him however you waited, Waited till he could get it off his chest and you could ask.

Simon looked back at the bottle, laying his hands flat on his thighs as he stared at his warped reflection on the bottle.

"I saw him (Y/N)-"

"What?"

"I was standing in the doorway and I saw him.. I looked exactly like him and it scared the shit out of me.. Especially with Elijah there- It felt like it was a scene ripped from my childhood"

His breath was shaky at best and you could see sweat on his skin which he tried to wipe away. Shaking his head in though and a almost horrified chuckle bubbling through his lips.

"He said he did what he did cause we were bad... but no matter the tantrums... the screaming or whatever I can't ever see me even raising my voice to them- let alone think about the shit he did"

You saw him reliving it, Staring at that bottle as if a TV screen of his childhood being played on it.

Reaching out quickly you take the bottle and set it on the floor away from his view, snapping him from his daze.

"..I'm sorry Simon- I'm so sorry baby.."

You never poked or asked about the things he went through.. You saw glimpses of a trauma you honestly could never hope to understand.

"Its.. It was a long time ago but Fuckin Hell"

He rubbed his face with a heavy sigh. Reaching over as he took your hand in his own.

"It doesn't matter if it was a long time ago- It still hurts.."

"It's just so bizarre.. Seeing me look just like him but in such a different- Situation"

You look to Simon, Seeing him choose that final wording in a almost forced manner.

"Well.. Maybe it's that, The person you are now is the person you'd have felt safe with as a kid.. So could be why its bizarre? Like uh, seeing an alternate reality"

Simon froze at that- Turning to stare at you with this unreadable look on his face, as if replaying your words as he looked forward.

His brain going to Elijah just down the hall, cuddled in a warm clean bed, a safe home in the country- Knowing his father would be there to protect him and his siblings with his life, a lovely mother that would do anything for them with not even the thought of a hand bring raised onto him.

It had been something he'd always wanted growing up.. and he had created it-

His eyes get misty- His other hand covering his face as you see his scar covered bottom lip quiver slightly.

You gently wrap your arms around him as you feel him hold you tightly. His face pressed into the crown of your head as you feel tears drop onto your scalp and the gentle shake of your husband's breathing.

"Y-Yeah.. I guess so"

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iristheplanet16 · 19 hours ago

Text

Most realistic fake PR stunt ever pt. 3

Summary: Yelena invites you to a charity gala playing up how good publicity it will be for this PR stunt, though she mainly wants you to go so she can get good entertainment for the night called you and Bob be so awkward in love without even knowing. And you decide to go because... it may be fun to dance and talk with Bob all night, and an excuse to dress up is always a win

Contains: dress shoping, pining, Bob and reader are IN LOVE but to stupid to know it yet, but Yelena knows, alpine the cat mention~

Warning: swearing

Note: sorry uhh thought I posted this alreayd but turns out I didn’t so if you have been waiting for this I’m so sorry lmao it’s been out on my Ao3 for weeks, I hope you enjoy and plesse feel free to give me feedback!! -Iris/Mars ♥️

Dress shopping and Pining (also being Frightened by a Cat?)

A pounding sound came from the door outside your store. You sigh already knowing exactly who it is, you get out of bed grumbling at the time. You make your way downstairs to where the shop is located and let Yelena in.

“Lena…it’s 6 in the morning…on a saturday what the fuck do you want?” You grumble heading over to make yourself a drink –perks of owning a coffee shop–

“So! Valentina is making us attend some fancy charity gala thing tonight and it’s mandatory for us… all of us soooo~ I was thinking~ you can come and be Bob’s date tonight!~” She exclaimed, slipping into the seat in front of where you stood, enjoying you getting all flushed, a blush creeping up your face.

“I- I can’t just go to a gala! Let alone as someone’s FAKE date! I don’t even have a dress! I don’t even know what I would wear, what I would do, god fake date Bob in public! God I would so easily give it away!” You spiral into overthinking. *Sure you and Bob have posted photos of the two of you over the past week playing into the bit, but you haven't ever done anything out in public yet.*

“Babes, it’s gonna be fine! You can go, I’ll talk to Mel and she will sort out getting you in. And we can go dress shopping today with me! Hence why I’m here” Yelena explained trying to calm you down. “Besides you just need to act like yourselves, God knows you two already act like a couple.” She teases with a mischievous grin.

You punched her arm knowing it would do nothing to her –stupid ex widow– but you hope the meaning was still there. Yelena kept trying to convince you that you guys acted like a couple and that he liked you back. Though you never believed her claiming “He was just being nice” and “you are just trying to make me feel better”. Why would he like you…you were just the girl that sold him coffee.

“...it will be so much fun! Even if it's not then at least you got to dress up.” Yelena continued. “Please?”

You sigh “I don’t have the money to buy a fancy dress.”

“Aha! The best part is we can use Valentina’s card and then it just feels free~” She smiled, wanting any excuse to waste Valentina’s money.

~~~

You and Yelena walk into one of the best dress boutiques in the city to try and find one for the upcoming evening. “So what exactly are you looking for?” You ask browsing through the selections grabbing a few you liked in your size.

“Mmm I don’t know, something elegant, expensive but able to hide a gun holster the usual” Yelena said, holding up a dress to her body laughing as the passer by stumbled on hearing what she had just said. “I see, yes very much every girl's main criteria” you tease.

Once you two picked out enough dresses you went to go try them out in the changing rooms. You try on a yellow dress with gold sequins and step out as Yelena steps out in a bright green skin tight dress. You both look at each other instantly, shaking your heads at the other's outfit. “Too green.” “Too itchy.” You both step back in to try again.

This goes on for about 4 rotations of dresses. Either the color was unflattering, too big, weird fabric and one was something said in Russian which she didn't translate, swearing it’s a compliment, but the dress just wasn’t right for you.

You had saved the best option for last hoping it was the one. You walk out in a dress so blue from far away it looks black. There was a slit that went all the way up your thigh and was low enough to give you confidence that you knew you looked good but not low enough you worried about flashing people. Yelena wolf whistled when you walked out deciding this was clearly the winner. “DAMN!! Absolutely stunning! Perfection!” She said, clapping her hands as you spin showing off the scooped back.

“I’m glad it fits! I really wanted this one to be the dress actually.” You laugh looking in the mirror. “I don’t know, this dress just…spoke to me, I was instantly drawn to the color.” You explain giving the dress a little swish in the mirror watching it move. Yelena met you gaze in the mirror and smirked. “Yeah of course it did dipshit, it's the same color of a certain man’s eyes who’s hopelessly in love with you.” You blush at the mention of Bob.*Yes you did notice it was the same color of his eyes but that wasn’t the only reason you loved the dress –though it was a bonus that you would be matching–* “He’s not in love with me…” You mumble still meeting her gaze looking a little hopeless yourself.

“Honey, trust me… he is. I know what he’s like when he is just being kind or platonic and this ain’t it. Don’t believe me just pay a little more attention tonight you’ll see.” She said, dropping her teasing tone, giving you a sincere look. You just nod still not fully believing her but decide to keep it in mind.

~~~

You spend that evening doing your hair and make up trying to perfect it. You decide it’s the best you are going to get and slip into your dress. Once ready you make your way down to your store and out into the street, texting Yelena and Ava you are on your way over.

Once in the building –thanks to a special badge Mel gave you for this whole stunt– you made your way up to the top floors on the Watchtower following the instructions the girls had given you. You walk down countless pristine white random hallways praying you are in the right spot and head to an elevator and press the floor number.

As the elevator doors open you aren't sure what to expect, but you are shocked to see this giant open room consisting of the biggest kitchen you have ever seen and a cozy living room with blankets, pillows and books scattered around. It's messy but not in a dirty way but in a more…lived in way which made you smile.

One the couch you see or well hear who you assume is Alexei snoring with a blanket completely covering him. You hesitantly walk farther in the space, though Ava told you that you can just walk in it still felt weird to be here. You walk around and into a hallway with lots of doors attached in a single file with three doors on one side and three opposite. You continue to wonder down when you feel this fluffy thing rubbing itself against your leg.

“What the hell?!” You yelp, jumping away before spotting this white cat just sitting on the floor peering up at you. You continue to stare at the cat while your heart rate goes back down as the closest door opens and out steps Bucky in a tailored suit. He picked up the cat standing up straight. “Sorry about that, Alpine is very stealthy when they want to be.” He says scratching the cat’s chin as she climbs up onto his shoulder no doubt getting fur all on his suit. “The girls are in Yelena’s room. Last one on the left.” He says pointing at the door. He’s about to turn and leave when he stops and smiles softly feeling your uneasiness “You look lovely tonight” he then walks back in shutting the door.

You continue on, walking to the door where there’s early 2000s pop music playing from inside. You walk inside greeted by Ava and Yelena still getting ready and singing along to the music both probably a few drinks in ready.

“Hi!!” Yelena shouts once she realizes you are there in the room. She walks over giving you a hug though leaning away so as to not mess up either of your guys hair or dresses. “Hey, I see you two are pre-gaming?” You laugh taking in the various glasses that were at some point filled with alcohol.

“Hey…it was her idea! So be mad at her.” Yelena points accusatorily at Ava who’s sat on the floor in front of a full length mirror curling her doing her hair as best she could while fading in and out briefly. “It’s the only way I’m able to survive these fucking events.” She rolls her eyes as Yelena just nods along agreeing.

~~~

As the three of you sit in Yelena’s room Bob and John in the room across the hall getting ready as well. “I’m telling you Bob, the girl also has a thing for you!” John said exasperated at having to repeat this conversation AGAIN.

“But what if she’s just being nice, or she’s only here because she has too, and she never actually talks to me this whole evening, only taking a few photos with me for the stupid plan Mel needs, what if she regrets agreeing.” Bob mumbles more to himself than to John as he worries all about the what ifs and every possible thing he could think of. He runs his fingers through his hair as he passes to the frustration of Walker who had just finished perfecting his hair.

“Get it together!” John smacks his head, bringing him out of his overthinking. “I promise the feelings are mutual, she isn’t doing this to be nice, it's because she likes you. Not sure why but she does…” Walker taunted but with no real malice, though that didn’t stop Bob from glaring at him. He held up his hands in surrender but a smirk on his face.

“But why would she want me… Out of all of New York how could it be me she want” He whispered staring down at his hands looking at his anxiously bitten off nails and picked at skin.

“I don’t know, that’s only something she can answer” John said “And I would suggest talking to her tonight, try to make a change, get out of the self inflicted friend zone. Compliment her, make her laugh and enjoy your presence. Also… just so you know from an outsider's perspective, the crush looks pretty recruited. Not some unbelievable fantasy. Hell the two of you together, it makes perfect sense.” He said more seriously and walked out of Bob’s room leaving the door open so Bob could get a look into Yelena’s room.

There Bob could see you sitting on the bed next to your friends singing along to the music and laughing. He loved your laugh. It was the prettiest sound he had ever heard, especially when it was him that made you. He stood smiling just watching you admiring how you looked in the dress. *god that dress~ that fucking dress, and the makeup~* he thought, running his eyes up and down, his gaze accidentally spending too much time on the low cut of your dress and the equally mesmerizing view of the slit going up up your leg. You were the prettiest person he had ever seen and it was shown all across his face.

You glance up from where you were watching Yelena tell some random story not expecting to see Bob staring at you from the room across the hall, looking utterly entranced. You blush and wave at him smiling and you can’t help checking him out with his messy hair, suit and untied bow tie. You wet your lips taking in the view, unable to stop yourself. From his room he turns bright bright red noticing how you were staring but he softly waves back before quickly shutting the door leaning against it

*I am so so fucked* You both think from the separate rooms faces equally as red trying to mentally prepare yourself for the upcoming night

#bob reynolds x reader #thunderbolts fanfiction #thunderbolts #self indulgence at its finest #lewis pullman #fanfiction

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ayan140 · 2 days ago

Text

🖤Chapter 11: He tried it.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:

Word count:2292 words

Don’t miss my A/N at the end! <3

————

The jungle smelled different today.

It wasn't the sweat or the wet leaves or the burnt rice someone messed up back at camp. It was the quiet. The too-perfect kind. The kind that tells you something's off before anything actually happens.

And maybe that's why I felt weird stepping out of my tent that morning. Or maybe it was because Zora hadn't looked me in the eye since she told me she wanted to be the only one seeing me bathe. My towel routine, apparently, was her personal concern now.

The memory made my face heat up all over again.

I spotted her by the campfire, sitting on an overturned crate, sharpening her blade like it personally pissed her off. Sparks flicked from the edge. Her brows furrowed. Her jaw tight. She was brooding. Classic Zora.

I didn't know whether to go to her or give her space. So, naturally, I did the one thing I always did when I didn't know what to do.

I turned around.

And walked straight into Jake.

"Whoa," he said, hands flying up to steady me. "Careful, sweetheart. You fall any harder and I might start thinking it's for me."

I stepped back, a little too quickly. "Don't flatter yourself."

His grin widened. "Too late."

He was shirtless. Again. Because of course he was. I tried not to look, but the guy clearly lived in a gym before he ended up on this island. The worst part? He knew it.

"Everything okay?" he asked. "You looked a little... rattled."

"I'm good," I said, brushing past him, but he kept pace beside me.

"Still thinking about last night?" he asked.

I froze.

He tilted his head. "You know. The whole... lake incident."

"Not really."

He chuckled. "That bad, huh?"

"No, Jake, it's just that being nearly naked next to a teammate isn't really in the mission handbook."

"Well," he said, voice dropping, "maybe it should be."

I shot him a look. "Are you flirting with me?"

He grinned again. "Am I that obvious?"

"Yes."

Jake smirked but didn't back off. "You know, I've been wondering something ever since you got here."

I didn't ask what. I should've.

"How does a girl like you end up stranded here? With all these rough types. You're... different."

"Different good or different 'gonna get eaten by a raptor'?"

He laughed. "Different good. Definitely. You bring something new. Energy. Fire."

I crossed my arms. "And let me guess. You like fire."

"I like you."

It was out there now. No more teasing. No more hinting.

And I didn't know what to say.

Before I could even try, his hand came up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

I stepped back.

"Jake."

His smirk faltered. "Too soon?"

"Too not-gonna-happen."

He blinked. "Right."

A silence stretched between us. Thick and awkward.

I heard footsteps behind me and turned, relieved—

Zora.

Her eyes locked on us. She didn't say a word. Just stared.

Jake straightened up like a kid caught stealing cookies.

"Zora," he said, trying for lightness. "Just chatting."

Zora's gaze flicked from him to me. "Looked like more than that."

Jake scratched the back of his neck. "Misread the room. It happens."

Zora didn't respond. She didn't need to.

The silence was louder than any warning.

Jake muttered something and walked off, and for the first time in five minutes, I could breathe.

Zora stepped closer. "You okay?"

"I'm fine."

She studied me. "He touched you."

"He was just—"

"Don't defend him."

I hesitated. "Zora, it wasn't a big deal."

"Yes, it is," she said. "Anything that makes you uncomfortable is a big deal."

My breath hitched a little.

And for a second, she looked like she was gonna say more.

But then her walls snapped back up. "We leave in ten."

⸻

We split into teams shortly after breakfast. The mission was routine: secure a perimeter on the west trail and check for signs of movement. Too many reports of something big lurking nearby. Could be a dino. Could be a predator worse than that. Human.

Zora, Jake, and I were one team.

The others headed east.

A guy named Harris stayed back at the camp to watch our supplies.

We moved through the jungle in silence, machetes in hand, swatting through vines. Jake was ahead, humming something under his breath. Zora kept close to me, fingers twitching like she was ready to knock his teeth in if he so much as looked at me sideways again.

"You're quiet," I said to her after a while.

She didn't look at me. "Focused."

"You mad?"

"No."

"You sure?"

She finally glanced over. "I'm not mad. I'm... protective."

I slowed a little to walk beside her. "Of me?"

Zora nodded. "You're not just some girl who ended up here. You matter. To me."

My heart thudded.

Then Jake called back, "Hey lovebirds, you coming?"

Zora shot him a glare that could've vaporized the leaves.

⸻

We made camp for a break about an hour later.

Jake threw down his pack and stretched. "I'll go check that ridge over there. Give you two some alone time."

Zora didn't even pretend not to roll her eyes.

When he disappeared from sight, I turned to her. "You're scaring him."

"Good."

I smiled. "That protective streak is getting bold."

"You think it's a problem?"

"No. I think it's kinda hot."

That stopped her.

Zora looked at me. Really looked.

The fire in her eyes softened.

"You make it hard," she murmured, "to keep my distance."

"Then don't."

Her gaze dropped to my mouth. Just for a second. But I saw it.

Then she shook her head. "You deserve someone better than this. This place. Me."

"I decide what I deserve."

Her jaw clenched like she wanted to say more, but Jake returned before she could.

"Ridge is clear," he said. "No signs of movement. But someone's been through there recently. Fresh tracks."

"Human?" Zora asked.

"Looks like it."

That got her attention. "How fresh?"

"Hour. Two tops."

We exchanged looks.

"Let's keep moving," Zora said.

Jake nodded. "After you, boss."

But not before his eyes slid toward me again.

Zora noticed. She always noticed.

And as we moved deeper into the jungle, I could feel it—

The tension between all three of us wasn't going anywhere.

Not yet.

————

The jungle was louder today.

Not the usual insect buzz or distant birdcall—this was something deeper. More guttural. Echoes that didn't sound like echoes. Something new was out there. And whatever it was, Zora was already ten steps ahead, her blade gripped tight, her jaw set hard.

I followed close behind her, trying not to look as rattled as I felt. Jake, of course, lagged a few feet behind, whistling softly under his breath like this was a nature walk and not a literal death march.

"This area's not raptor territory," Zora muttered, pushing back thick branches. "Too humid, too close to the river."

"Cool. So what are we worried about?" Jake said casually.

Zora shot him a look. "Plenty."

We moved deeper into the greenery, the air getting thicker with each step. A small team had split off to search the other side of the ravine, and one man stayed back at camp to guard the supplies. This route was ours: Zora, Jake, and me. What could possibly go wrong?

Jake kept creeping closer to me every chance he got. Brushing shoulders. Offering to "spot" me while I climbed over logs like I was gonna faceplant without his help.

"You sure you're up for this, rookie?" he asked, eyeing me with a smirk.

I raised a brow. "You worried about me, Jake?"

His smirk widened. "Only 'cause I'd hate to have to carry you back. Not that I'd mind."

Zora didn't say a word, but her knuckles whitened around the handle of her machete.

Jake noticed.

And clearly enjoyed it.

We reached a small clearing near the water's edge. The trees thinned out enough for us to see the river bend—and right there, drinking from the edge, was something huge.

Not a raptor.

Not anything I'd ever seen before.

The creature had a low-slung body, thick, leathery skin, and a head shaped almost like a crocodile's—but bulkier. It was covered in mud, slow-moving, with wide feet and a long tail dragging behind it. It looked like a living tank.

"What the hell is that?" I whispered.

"Baryonyx," Zora replied softly. "Fish-eater. Usually keeps to itself, but don't get too close. The jaws can crush bone."

Jake leaned a little too close to me. "Looks like it skipped breakfast."

"Back up," Zora said sharply. "Slow. Quiet."

We obeyed. I kept my eyes on the creature as we moved behind some foliage. It didn't follow. Just returned to the water, snapping at fish with those massive jaws.

"New species for you?" Jake asked me, low and teasing.

I nodded. "Didn't know dinosaurs could look like rejected crocodiles."

Zora snorted. Quietly. Almost like she was proud of me.

Jake, of course, tried to ruin the moment. "If we're listing dangerous creatures, Zora should probably be top of the list."

"I'm flattered," she said dryly.

We kept moving after that, winding through the jungle, skirting around large prints and broken branches—clear signs that something even bigger had passed through here recently. Then Jake started lagging behind again. On purpose.

When Zora scouted ahead a few meters—doing her usual protective sweep—he fell into step beside me.

"Can I ask you something?" he said.

"Shoot."

He leaned in a little. "Are you and Zora... a thing?"

I blinked. "What?"

"Just asking," he said, raising his hands innocently. "You two are always whispering. Sleeping in the same tent. Sharing those... looks."

I gave a short laugh. "You jealous?"

He grinned. "Maybe. Can't lie—been trying to find a moment with you since day one."

I swallowed hard. This was exactly what I didn't want right now.

"Jake, I—"

"Hey, relax," he said. "I'm not gonna be a creep about it. Just saying... if you ever get tired of jungle knives and death stares, I'm around. Friendly company. Flirty company."

I glanced toward Zora. She was crouched, examining a trail of deep claw marks on a nearby tree. But something in her posture told me she was listening.

"I'm not interested," I said, firm but not cruel.

Jake tilted his head. "You sure?"

"I'm sure."

His face flickered for half a second—some mix of bruised ego and frustration. But then he smiled again, too smooth.

"Your loss."

He walked ahead, catching up with Zora. I followed, feeling the tension crackle between the three of us.

But that was just the start.

⸻

Later, we made camp for a short break. The sun hung high overhead, making everything hot and sticky. Zora checked the perimeter while Jake and I refilled the water flasks near a muddy stream.

He was quieter now. Not talking. Not teasing.

Just... watching me.

Like he was thinking something.

Something I wasn't gonna like.

I kept my distance.

When Zora returned, I could tell she noticed. Her eyes flicked between me and Jake, lips pressed tight.

"You good?" she asked me.

I nodded. "Yeah."

"You sure?"

Jake chimed in. "She's fine. We were just talking."

Zora's eyes narrowed. "I didn't ask you."

Jake smirked. "Protective much?"

"She's part of my team."

"Oh, is that all she is?"

"Jake," I warned.

Zora stepped closer. "You wanna finish that sentence?"

Jake rolled his eyes. "Relax. I'm not starting anything."

Zora didn't back off. Her whole body was tense, like she was ready to fight. Not just Jake—but the whole damn jungle if it came to it.

That's when we heard it.

A crash.

Then a screech.

Then another—deep, echoing, metallic.

Zora's head whipped toward the sound. "That's not a raptor."

We turned as trees split in the distance.

Out stepped something massive—taller than any of us, with thick armored plates running down its back. A horned face, like a triceratops but longer, meaner. Its roar shook the ground beneath us.

"Pachyrhinosaurus," Zora breathed. "That's not supposed to be here."

"Should we run?" I asked.

"No," she said. "It's territorial. Not a predator. But if we spook it, it'll charge."

Jake stepped too close to me. "Guess it's a good thing we've got Zora, huh?"

I moved away from him and stood beside her. She didn't say anything, but her hand brushed against mine—barely there. Just enough to feel. Just enough to mean something.

We stayed frozen until the creature passed, crashing back into the jungle.

When it was finally quiet, Jake broke the silence.

"Okay, now I'm ready to go back to camp."

Zora didn't respond.

Neither did I.

We just walked.

Together.

And Jake trailed behind this time.

Silent.

Watching.

Thinking.

⸻

Back at camp, things were... off.

One of the guys—Marcus—was shouting about stolen supplies. Food was missing. A med kit. Two blades. One of the radios. No signs of break-in.

Just gone.

Zora scanned the area, tense and quiet. Jake helped search, acting all innocent and helpful.

But her eyes stayed on him.

Mine did too.

And when we turned in that night, Zora's voice was low in the tent, almost a whisper.

"Don't be alone with him."

I nodded. "I won't."

She hesitated. Then added: "I don't trust him."

"I know."

Zora sat on the edge of the bedroll, muscles tight. Like she wanted to say more. Like the protective fire inside her was burning a little hotter than usual tonight.

I reached for her hand.

She let me.

And didn't let go.

Not even when the lights went out.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:

A/N: Heyy :)

I know I haven’t posted in over a week, sorry for that. I mean school is starting in 2 weeks and I still haven’t gotten my summer glow up, so I’m working out extra hard and can’t stay up till 2am. Need my beauty sleep yk :)

Anywhooo I will post every other day/night. Goodnightttt xxx

#fanfic #movies #wlw post #jurassic world #marvel #jurassic world rebirth #zora #black widow #natasha romanoff #zora bennett x reader #natahsa romanoff #zora bennett #wildlife #i’m back #i’m just a girl #update #x yn

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eviemonroeer · 23 hours ago

Text

The Monroe Effect: Chapter 51

Set during Season 7, Episodes 16 and 17 of ER. Spoilers if you haven't seen the show.

Warnings: some lewd/suggestive conversation, mentions of bullying, language, gun violence

WC: 3.2 k

ER story belongs to original creators, just adding on my own original charter.

Taglist: @pleasecallmeunhinged, @rainmg, @arigoldsblog, @queenslandlover-93, @hagarsays, @antisocialfiore, @snowflames-world, @guiltypleassure243, @omgbrianab, @dizzybee03, @secretmoonphantom, and @emma8895eb

MASTERLIST

“You have got to learn to be quieter.”

Carter eyebrows raised over the rim of his coffee mug before he put it down on the table. “What are you talking about?”

I rolled my eyes and put Meghan into her highchair next to him. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. I was walking back down here after changing Meghan and Corrine walked past me on the stairs. Wouldn’t even make eye contact.”

“She did not hear us.”

“Carter, baby.” I started, sitting in his lip. “You don’t really know it because you’re in the moment, which trust me, I appreciate. I really do. But you can get pretty loud.”

“I am not loud.” He scoffed, almost like it was an insult.

“I’m pretty sure you yelled ‘Stat!’ last night.”

“I did not.” I raised an eyebrow at him. “Okay, maybe I did.”

I put a hand on his chest. “Are you still having to think about procedures so things don’t end quickly?”

“No.” He scoffed and looked down. “Okay, maybe. But not all the time.” He paused. “Only in certain positions.”

I smiled and rolled my eyes. “You’re lucky you’re really cute. I’m kind of shocked and still embarrassed Millicent has never said anything.”

“We really need our own place.”

I nodded. “We needed one months ago.”

“We tried looking at places once.....”

“But that got put on pause.” I finished for him. He nodded, biting his lip. The last we had gone house shopping was right before he went to rehab. I ran a hand through his hair. “Well, maybe we can un-pause it.” I turned to Meghan. “How does that sound to you, Meghan? Want to go house hunting with Mommy and Daddy?”

“Mama dada.” She babbled before sticking a glob on scrambled eggs and her hand into her mouth.

“Well, looks like 2 out of 3 are on board.” I said, turning back to him. “Carter?”

He sighed. “Let’s do it. We can talk about it more later. Lunch?”

“Sounds perfect.”

“I’m still working on this.”

The waitress nodded and left us, leaving Carter’s almost fully uneaten sandwich in front of him as she took my plate. I held up the list so we could both see it. It was some of our preferred wants and needs in a new place. “Alright, here’s what we have so far. Two bedrooms, but three would be preferred. Two bathrooms also preferred, especially as Meghan gets older. Something with at least a little bit of a yard for her to play in would be nice. Nice schools. Perfect circumstance would be something a good distant from County and not ridiculously far from your grandparents.” I sighed and put down the list. “I feel like we’re never going to find anything even close to this list.

“Oh, come on.” Carter said, taking a bite of his sandwich. “Don’t give up on me now before we’ve even started this. It might take a minute, but this is what we wanted. Staying with my grandparents was never supposed to be a long term thing. Just a reprieve.” He grabbed my hand. “But now it’s our turn to get a place that is really ours. And besides, don’t you still know that realtor? Why not give her a call with our supposed “impossible” list?”

I sighed. “Yeah, I guess I could. She might laugh at me. But I’ll call her.”

“Good.” He smiled and cupped my face with his hand, brushing his thumb on my cheek. “We’re going to find the place we’re supposed to be. Even if it takes us a while. I know we will.”

The door to linen closet opened and I felt something hit the back of my legs, sending some of the sheets in my hands to the ground. “Oh!” I grunted and turned, seeing a little boy, no older than eight, if that, standing there. “Hi.” I said, bending down to retrieve the sheets. “Who are you?”

“Simon!”

It was Carter yelling off in the distance. “Are you Simon?” I asked. The boy shook his head. “No? Are you sure?” He shrugged and I chuckled, putting the sheets on the shelf and grabbing the boy’s arm. We both walked out of the closet as Carter rounded the corner, first going into the trauma room. “Hey Carter!” I called out. He returned to the hall. “Lose something?”

“Simon.”

“Where’s his mom?”

“Mom went to the cafeteria to get some chocolate milk.” He replied, picking up the boy into his arms. “But Simon’s not getting any treats until he lets me draw his blood.” His tone shifted to what I affectionately referred to as his “dad voice”. Even though she was just fourteen months old, I’d heard him use it a couple of times with Meghan. At this point it was mainly cute and a little funny to think Meghan would find it convincing in any way.

“I don’t want you to take my blood.” Simon groaned as Carter walked him back towards curtains.

“He’s only going to take about this much.” I said, holding up my fingers barely apart from each other.

Carter dropped Simon onto the bed with a groan. “If you sit still, this won’t hurt.” I put on some gloves to try and help him.

“I don’t want a needle!”

“How about a papoose?” I offered. “Or just a gentler approach?”

“I think we’re okay.”

“You sure? I’d hate for you to lose him again.”

“Can you just hold his arm still?” There was a slight edge to his voice, so I just decided to let him do what he wanted. He put on his own pair of gloves before he bent back down in front of Simon. “Be brave and do not move.” He grabbed Simon’s arm and gently tapped his inner elbow.

“There’s a good one at the wrist.” I offered, knowing it might be a little easier.

“Antecube looks better.” He countered, wiping it with a sterile pad.

“No!” Simon yelled and began to move back and forth.

We both stood. “Want to try an arm board?”

“Nope.” He said sharply, moving to take off his gloves. “Let’s take break.” Damn, if he gave up that easily, I’d hate to see what happens when Meghan starts having toddler tantrums.

“Evie, I need another nurse!” I turned and Yosh had come in from Exam One, a bloody gauze on his head. I immediately ran after him. “He kicked me in the face.” He explained as he opened the door. Malik and a man partially in restraints were inside. The man was thrashing and yelling.

“We need some Haldol.” I told Yosh before going to help Malik finish the restraints.

“Careful, he bit a nurses finger in psych.”

“What’s he doing down here?”

“He cut up his face.”

The man started to thrash more violently as Luka walked in from trauma. “You want some help?” He asked as the man started grabbing at me.

“Yes!”

Luka moved quickly, taking the syringe from Yosh and injecting it into the patient’s thigh.

“Hey!” Malik yelled. “What did you do that for?”

The patient pulled off the hood on their head.

“Malucci!” I yelled.

“It was an April Fool’s joke.” Yosh told Luka.

“April Fool’s?” Luka asked, obviously having no clue what that meant.

“Was that Haldol?” Dave asked, his face full of concern. He turned to Yosh. “You actually put Haldol in that thing?”

“You weren’t actually supposed to get injected.”

I scoffed and removed my gloves, throwing them at him. “You all can deal with this.” I said, before leaving the exam room. Shaking my head, I turned, finding Carter had walked away for a break of his own. Simon was now sitting on the gurney with his mom, drinking a carton of chocolate milk. I sighed and knew there was a better way to do this.

“Hey Simon. I’m Evie, the nurse from before.” I knelt down in front of him. “You know, I have a little girl. Her name is Meghan. And whenever we go to the park, she loves playing with bubbles. Do you like bubbles?” Simon nodded, a little bit of milk dribbling down his chin. “I thought so. Would you like to blow some bubbles right now.” He nodded again. “Great. I’ll be right back.”

Getting up off the floor, I headed for the lounge. Ever since Meghan was born, my purse had not only doubled in size, but became a black hole of sorts. There was all sorts of stuff in it: a small first aid kit, a brush, a single baby sock, a pack of graham crackers, and so much more. And thankfully, a thing of bubbles from our last family outing. I closed my locker door and took the container back into the curtains area.

“Look what I got!” I said in a sing song tone. I handed Simon the bubbles and he happily started blowing them. Smiling, I started gathering the things I needed to draw his blood. “Can I take this?” I asked, taking the container from him before handing it to his mom. He continued blowing the bubbles, sticking the wand into the tube whenever he needed as I prepped his arm. “Alright Simon. Now I want you to blow the biggest bubble you can.” As soon as he was distracted, I easily slid the needle in and filled the vial with blood before he even had a chance to realize what happened as I put a Band-Aid on him.

“What's going on here?”

I turned my head and smirked as Carter walked up. “Oh, you know, just doing your job.” I said, showing him the vial full of blood.

“How did you do that?”

“Sometimes you just need a mother’s touch.....” I looked down at the bubbles and chuckled. “And something out of the pit that is her purse. What do you want for labs?”

Carter blinked a couple times. “Uh....... CBC, lytes, BUN, creatinine, and glucose.”

“Coming right up. Simon, really good job buddy.” I praised, writing on the chart. “I’m very proud of you. And you can keep the bubbles. Dr. Carter owes our daughter another tube anyway.” I handed the vial and orders over to Malik.

“Thank you.” Carter said as we walked towards admit. “That was really smart.”

“You really need to work on your patience.” I said, leaning against the desk. “Our daughter has your personality. I’d hate to see you two butt heads in the future.”

“That’s probably bound to happen. But I think I just need to start with more coffee.”

“Uh-huh.” I tsked. Carter shook his head before bending down and giving me a quick kiss.

“Did somebody order a school bus?”

We both looked up at Chuny, furrowing our brows. We both pushed away from the desk admit and followed her outside just as a Chicago school bus pulled into the ambulance bay. I had grabbed an umbrella since it had been raining earlier, but it was useless now. Kids were hanging out of every window and the doors opened, revealing an older blonde woman and a boy. “Grace Linden. Stuart’s having an asthma attack.”

“I’m Dr. Carter. Let’s get a gurney and a handheld neb.” Chuny ran off to go get the items. “Do you use an inhaler?”

“Empty.” The kid sputtered out, holding it up.

“How long has he been bad?” I asked the teacher.

“About ten minutes. There were fumes on the bus.”

“Exhaust fumes?” Carter asked.

“No, it’s something else. A lot of the kids have headaches. Some of them are throwing up.”

“Now, we can’t bring them in. It’s a hazmat situation. Until we can confirm there’s no contamination, you’re all going to have to wait outside.”

“In the cold?”

“Unfortunately.” I said. Chuny had brought out the nebulizer as well as trauma gowns and gloves for both of us. I turned back to the teacher as I began putting the items on. “Can you please get all the students off the bus so it will be easier for someone to assess them?” She nodded and got to work.

"He needs a 125 of Solu-Medrol.” Carter told me as Chuny now brought out a gown and gurney. “Alright, let’s get him into a gown and bag his clothes.”

“Can you hop up here?” I asked Stuart as I walked him to the gurney. He tried to hop up, but faltered, Carter catching him. That’s when a group of boys started mocking him and calling him stupid.

“Hey, I think you broke your ass.” One of the boys said. “I can see the crack.” I shook my head, and we helped get him settled on the gurney. Carter began to help get him out of his clothes, the taunts getting worse. I turned and found the umbrella I had brought out and discarded before we changed. I opened it and used it to try and block Stuart from those turds.

“So, you guys on a field trip?” I asked, the boys groaning as I blocked their view.

“Art institute.” Stuart said, still trying to catch his breath.

“Oh, yeah?” Carter asked. “The Gauguin Exhibit?”

“We never made it.” I nodded and handed the hospital gown to Carter, still keeping a strong hold on my umbrella shield.

Once we had Stuart changed and settled on the gurney, we rolled him into the ER. “Dr. Weaver, we’ve got a status asthmaticus.” Carter called out to Kerry, who was helping to roll another gurney down the hall. She stopped.

“Chuny. Can you help her with a bed pan?” She asked, referring to the old woman on her gurney, before coming over to us.

“He needs continuous nebs. Where do you want to put him?”

The two started discussing and asking Stuart questions, when I heard a loud “Hey!”. I looked and the older woman Weaver had just been helping was up out of her gurney and holding a gun, the weapon shaking back and forth in her hands as she was mumbling. “Carter.” I said and grabbed his hand. His quickly turned and then put himself between us and the old woman. An officer was standing, pointing her gun at the woman and Benton was trying to talk her down.

Then there were two shots and the old woman fell to the floor dead.

As things somewhat calmed down, we got Stuart moved into an exam room. Since I was down to no patients, I stayed with him so I could keep giving him continuous breathing treatments. “How you feeling now, Stuart?” I asked, marking down the third nebulizer on his chart.

“Better.” He replied, not as wheezy as earlier. “Thanks for early. With the umbrella.”

“No problem.” I said, giving him a smile. “Girls used to pick on me too. I get how you feel.” I paused, setting down the chart and checking his levels. “Don’t let them bother you though. They’re not going to get anywhere in life by being mean.”

The door to the exam room opened and Carter walked in. “Feeling better?”

Stuart nodded. “Starting to.” He paused. “Did that lady die?” Carter looked at me and then nodded, taking off his stethoscope. “You think it’ll be on the news?”

“Yeah.”

“She could have blown my head off. Weren’t you scared?”

“A little.”

“Then why’d you get in front of me?”

“Guess I wasn’t thinking. I was really scared.”

“Me too.”

Carter nodded and checked Stuart out as he continued his treatment. “You’re still wheezing.” He said and looked at me for a moment. I held up the number three to tell him how many nebs I’d given him so far. “Have you had a cold?”

“No.”

“Well, something triggered your asthma. You think it was the fumes?”

“Maybe, I don’t know.”

“You’re not sure?” I offered. Stuart shrugged. “We’re just trying to help. You know, like with the umbrella.”

Stuart thought for a moment and then nodded. “It was the fumes.”

“Where’d they come from?” Carter asked. Stuart stayed silent. “You know, anything that you tell me, it’s a secret. Evie too.”

We both watched Stuart for a moment as he silently contemplated telling us. “It was a can.”

“A can?” I asked. “A can of what?”

Stuart shrugged. “Maybe a solvent?” Carter offered.

“I think so. They put a rag over my face."

Carter nodded, looked at me, and then patted Stuart’s leg. “Don’t worry buddy. We’re going to get you feeling better soon.”

“Please don’t say anything. They’ll get back at me. Bo will kick my butt."

“Don’t worry Stuart.” I said, trying to comfort him. “Dr. Carter can be discreet when he needs to. Right?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. Carter nodded before leaving the room. I sighed and shook my head. “Hey Stuart, you’re going to be here for a while. Anything you like to do to pass the time.”

“I like playing on my computer. Do you have one of those?”

“You know, I think I might.”

While Carter was gone, Kerry came and grabbed me, needing me to help out with a couple other patients. So, after getting Stuart settled with the laptop from upstairs, I headed back out on to the floor. After a little bit of triage, I came back to check on him and found that Carter had returned.

“Listen, I knew a boy who was a little husky, and he didn’t have very many friends and all the kids used to make fun of him. So, he spent most of his time studying. And he went on to college and he became a surgeon...... And at his high school reunion, he took out his scalpel and he cut the tongues out of every kid who ever made fun of him.”

“That’s supposed to cheer me up, doc?”

I couldn’t help the laugh that burst from me, putting my hands to my mouth as Carter and Stuart turned around. “Sorry. I was checking on other patients. How are we doing in here?” I asked, stepping into the room.

“Good.” Carter said, standing up. “Wheezing has stopped. I think just a little more observation time and we should be okay.”

“Glad to hear.”

Carter pat the bed. “We’ll be back soon.” He told Stuart before putting a hand on my lower back as he escorted me out of the room.

“That was a nice story.” I scoffed. “Actually got me there in the beginning. Thought was about you.” Carter scoffed and ran a hand through his hair. I turned as he leaned up against the wall. “Wait...... was that about you. Carter.”

“I went through a rough patch in middle school.”

“Oh sweetie.” I said and wrapped my arms around him. “That was nice of you, trying to help him. But I really hope the scalpel part wasn’t true.”

“Oh no. I keep those tongues in a jar in the closet.”

We both laughed and he pulled me in, kissing my head. “Hey, where did you go earlier? You were gone for a while.”

“I went up to see Meghan.”

“And she let you come back downstairs?”

“Only because I just looked in through the window. And don't say anything, because I know you do that too.” He paused, moving a piece of hair behind my ear. “I’m really not ready for her to grow up. To have to worry about her body or the stupid things other kids say.”

“Me neither.” I sighed and laid my head on his chest. “At least we have a while before that happens.”

“We can’t keep her little forever?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

“Damn.”

I chuckled and stood back up. That’s when my eye caught something through the window of Stuart’s room. “Would you look at that?” Carter turned around the corner and chuckled as he saw what I did. Two of the girls from the bus were smiling and talking with Stuart as he showed them something on the computer. “Looks like he’s found some friends.”

Carter nodded and put his arm around my waist. “Maybe some kids aren’t all that bad after all.”

#er #john carter #john carter er #noah wyle #original character #john carter x female character #dr john carter #john truman carter #john truman carter iii #john carter x reader #er tv series #er nbc #er 1994 #er tv show

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gooseplumes · 11 months ago

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you know that post that's like. what is it. "Fate didn't do this. I knitted the threads of destiny myself to be with you." or whatever. that's how it feels to deal with immigration to be together

#going through our latest visa application and doing my best not to lose my mind #borders are cruel and inhumane for reasons much bigger and bloodier than this #but at night i look at him beside me and go. why do we need to jump through so many hoops to secure more years of this #just bc of where we were born !

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alygator77 · 4 months ago

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── try again

a/n. i've been sitting on wanting to create a small scene like this for a while now. so here ya go! lemme tell ya'll... breastfeeding is not always this magical and beautiful thing that people make it out to be. it hurts like hell, my bloody nipples can attest.

cw: domestic fluff. angst with comfort. satoru's trying to make breastfeeding easier for you.

“Satoru,” you whisper, voice tight with frustration. “She won’t latch.”

You’re trying not to cry.

Looking down at your newborn, you can see her frustration—tiny fists clenching, soft, hungry cries spilling from her mouth as she wriggles restlessly in your arms. You shift again, adjusting her position, cradling her closer, trying—begging—for something to click.

But it doesn’t.

Her mouth bobs and searches blindly, cheeks flushing red with effort, and the desperation building in her fragile little body mirrors your own.

“I—I don’t know what I’m doing wrong,” you choke out, blinking hard as tears blur your vision.

You’re exhausted. Beyond it. The sleepless nights at the hospital. Your body aches in places you didn’t even know could hurt. And this—this thing that was supposed to be natural, instinctual, beautiful—feels awkward and impossible—like a test you’re failing over and over again.

“Please, baby girl…” your voice trembles as you guide her to your breast one more time. “Just—c’mon—o-ow!”

She latches, but it’s wrong. A searing pain shoots through your chest and you flinch, instinctively pulling her away. Your nipple throbs—red, sore, screaming for relief. With a shrill cry, your baby’s tiny face crumples in protest, and your own tears finally fall—hot and helpless.

“Why is this so hard?” you whisper, voice cracking as you hold her close, shaking.

“Hey, hey… it’s okay. You’re doing everything right.”

Satoru's voice is low behind you—steady, but laced with worry.

His hands come to rest gently on your shoulders, warm and trembling, his thumbs moving in slow circles like he can massage away the frustration knotting in your muscles.

“She’s only a few days old…” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss the top of your head, lips lingering in your hair. “She’s still learning. Fuck… we are too.” He exhales shakily. “You’re doing the best you can, sweetheart. Please don’t be so hard on yourself.”

He straightens, blue eyes darting around the room like he’s searching for something—anything—to help.

“What can I do? Do you need anything? Where’s that—hang on—where’s that damn pillow thing…?” he mumbles, and you watch through watery eyes as he scrambles, clumsily grabbing the nursing pillow, adjusting it like he’s trying to solve a puzzle without the picture on the box. His movements are uncoordinated, frantic—but full of love.

Satoru kneels beside you as you try again, baby blue eyes flicking between your face and your daughter’s, willing the pieces to fall into place.

"C'mon baby girl... be nice to your momma for me, yeah?"

But when your little one latches again and you gasp, pulling her off with a pained cry, your resolve shatters.

“I—I can’t do it Satoru!” you say, brokenly. “I can't get her to latch, and when she does… it just hurts. So much.”

You feel like a failure. How can you not feed your baby?

As you look up at him through watery lashes, tears clinging to your cheeks, Satoru's expression cracks. He nods quickly, white brows furrowing as his lips press into a tight line, like he’s holding back the helplessness swelling in his chest.

“I know, baby. I know. Just… wait one sec.”

He’s on his feet in an instant, practically tripping over the edge of the rug as he rushes across the room. A moment later, he’s back—dragging a stool with one hand and clutching a spare pillow in the other. Dropping down in front of you, he crouches low, gently lifting your legs and placing them on the makeshift footrest.

“There,” he murmurs, positioning the pillow with care. “Put your feet up. Maybe if you’re more comfortable…”

Satoru fluffs the nursing pillow again with extra care, tucks the baby’s blanket around her tiny frame, then grabs your water bottle from the side table—uncapping it as he gently places it in your hand.

“C’mon momma... gotta stay hydrated.”

His voice is hushed, but purposeful. You sniffle, taking a sip of water, and he's shifting back toward the kitchen, glancing over his shoulder.

“Um… do you want a snack? I think there’s some of those lactation cookies in the kitchen…" his blue eyes flick back to you, and you see the gears turning in his head. "Or... I can make you something? Or—shit—I’ll Postmate something! What do you want? Fuck, I’ll Postmate everything if it’ll help.”

A tired, wet laugh escapes you—half amusement, half relief. “Great..." you wipe the tears from your eyes, smiling softly. "Now you’re spiraling too...”

He huffs out a sheepish breath, dragging a hand down his face as he plops beside you again. “Yeah… yeah, I am definitely spiraling.”

Reaching up, he brushes a damp strand of hair from your face, fingers grazing your temple with featherlight tenderness.

“You’re in pain...” he murmurs, blue eyes shimmering with concern. “And... I feel helpless just standing here. I can’t feed her. I can’t fix this…” he pauses, lips dropping into an exaggerated pout. “My nipples are completely useless, by the way.”

A choked, breathless laugh escapes through your tears, and his entire face softens at the sound, like it’s the only thing that’s mattered all day.

“What?” he grins. “It’s true. I’ve got nothing going on up here. Decorative at best. Yours, on the other hand—” he gestures with a flourish, “—doing heroic work. Damn sexy, too. Just sayin'.”

You roll your eyes through the blur of tears, laughing again, and lean into the warmth of his palm as it cradles your cheek.

It still hurts. You’re still exhausted, still raw, still aching in every possible way.

But in this moment—wrapped in Satoru's love, soothed by his gentle chaos and relentless care—you don’t feel quite so alone.

And somehow, with him by your side, you find the strength to try again.

And again.

Until finally… you get it right.

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sceletaflores · 4 months ago

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GIVE IT TO HER LIKE A MAN!

꩜ masterlist ꩜ update blog ꩜ requests ꩜ taglist ꩜

｡𖦹°‧➵ pair: dbf!joel miller x fem!reader

｡𖦹°‧➵ wc: 5.1k

｡𖦹°‧➵ contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, no outbreak au, no ellie, joel’s pov, swearing, age gap (52/23), semi-public sex (more of a semi-public ALMOST over the pants handjob?), p in v, clothed sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, hair pulling, spit kink, degradation, pussy spanking, creampie, fucking in your childhood bedroom RAAAHHH, one (1) single line about joel wanting to slap you, one (1) single use of the word daddy, erectile dysfunction? we don't know what that means in this house because that old man can fuck like he's twenty, porn w/o plot, no use of y/n.

｡𖦹°‧➵ nat’s note: hi babies! i'm back! did you miss me? cause i missed you and oh em gee i'm so excited to be rejoining the party. this actually wasn't what i planned on posting but the angsty joel fic is kicking my ass so hard that i had to take a break from it. i just needed to word vomit some raunchy, freak-nasty porn to cleanse my palate! i don’t normally go for the dbf trope but it's just so joel i couldn't not dip my feet in these waters. it's also more like dad's-close-but-distant-acquaintance-joel because in my head that man has little to no friends honestly. hope you love it, mwah!

dividers by @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics!

joel gives the best graduation gifts...

Joel isn’t the type to get invited to these kinds of things.

Graduation parties for Ivy League brats. Champagne in fancy crystal flutes and catered hors d'oeuvres getting passed around on silver trays. Men in loafers and pastel polos calling each other “old buddy” without any irony. It’s a far cry from his usual crowd—his mangy old t-shirt and stained blue jeans stick out in the place like a damn sore thumb.

The invitation came from a distant friend, someone he used to work with before his career took him in an entirely different, much shiner direction. He was here more as a favor than anything else. Tommy’s been worried about him, says he needs to get out more.

“Meet some new people, drink a few beers.” He’d said with his hand clasped on Joel’s shoulder. “It ain’t healthy to spend every weekend fixin’ shit around the house, Joel.”

Joel doesn’t see the problem. He’s fine the way he is. But somehow, he still got roped into going when he could have used any excuse to pull out at the last second. He could have faked sick, faked busy, faked like he had anything else to do besides sit at a fancy oak table on a back porch bigger than the whole first story of his house, decorated in Yale blue balloons and streamers.

He regretted giving into Tommy the second he pulled up in the driveway—a too-big Craftsman style place in West Lake Hills, all clean laid brick and perfectly manicured lawns. Joel couldn’t for the life of him remember why he said yes in the first place. Maybe it was the guilt of worrying his brother. Maybe for the decent catered food and overpriced beers he knew would be there when he first got the address.

What he hadn’t expected—what hit him in the goddamn chest when the door swung open after he knocked—was you.

And Christ, did you look smug about it.

It had been months ago. The only reason Joel was even in Connecticut was to meet with a client, a big time East Coast entrepreneur who wanted a new add on to his ten car garage and was fine slinging around the money to pay for a round-trip flight and a cushy hotel room.

He hadn’t planned on going to the bar that night, but after hours of back-and-forth about permits and material costs, he needed a drink. Just one, maybe two—enough to take the edge off before heading back to the hotel.

It was a shitty little dive about ten minutes from where he was staying. The beer was cold, the lights were low, and he wasn’t supposed to be making decisions with his little head. But then he saw you across the way, right in the middle of the dancefloor.

You were in a circle with a few other girls, your dress riding up higher and higher each time you’d roll your hips to the heavy bass blaring from the overhead speakers.

Joel watched you like that for a while, leaned up against the bar lazily sipping at his beer. He hadn’t planned on doing anything about it, just sat there and enjoyed the view. But you’d caught him looking, and instead of turning away and pretending not to notice, you’d smirked.

Joel should have known right then that he was in trouble.

It wasn’t long before you left your little group and made your way over, slipping on the stool beside him like you belonged there, like you’d already made your mind up about what was going to happen next. You’d leaned in close, close enough for him to catch the scent of whatever perfume you’d rolled over your throat before heading out—something rich and heady that damn near made his head spin.

“Hey, cowboy.” You’d said with a tilt of your head, the long column of your neck dewy with a light sheen of sweat he wanted to feel under his tongue. “You’ve been watching me?”

There was no accusation in your voice, just a quiet sort of amusement, like you already knew the answer.

Joel had huffed a laugh, he didn’t see the point of denying it. He was a lot of things, but subtle wasn’t one of them. “Yeah.” He’d admitted, taking a slow sip of his beer before setting it down. “What about it?”

Your eyes dropped down the length of his body, studying him, and he’d let you. Let you take your time looking, even as heat crawled up the back of his neck.

“Buy me a drink?” You’d asked, smiling up at him like butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth.

That was all it took.

One drink turned into two, which turned into three, and then you were leaning into his space like you were made to be there. Your index finger teasingly tracing along the collar of his shirt as you whispered something filthy in his ear that had all the blood in his brain rushing down south.

Joel really shouldn’t have let it go any further than some goddamn footsie under the bar and a few dirty words whispered over the rims of shiny glasses, he was too old for shit like that. But you were just so damn tempting—confident and sharp and pretty as all hell.

Before Joel knew it he had you pressed up against the side of his truck, giggling into his mouth, fingers tugging at his belt like you couldn't get it off fast enough. You’d tasted like the fruity cocktails he bought you and something sweeter underneath, something distinctly you, and Joel had to have more.

You let him have it too—fisting his shirt and dragging him into the backseat without a care in the world, all eager hands and breathless laughter as you straddled his lap.

It was supposed to be just that. A reckless decision with a pretty young thing as the cherry on top of his trip. A one-night deal he’d let himself have because, fuck, it had been a long time since someone looked at him like that.

Joel tried his damndest to think how he should’ve, tried not to let some one off fuck turn him all sorts of ass backwards. He tried his damndest to boot you out of his mind the next morning when he was boarding the flight back to Austin—but you stuck anyway, like a burr in his goddamn brain.

The way you’d looked sprawled out under him, eyes glazed over with pleasure, lips parted, or the way you’d moaned his name like it was a prayer you needed him to hear. The way you’d rode him nice and slow, dragging your nails down his chest just to watch him shudder. The way you’d kissed him after, lazy and sweet, before sneaking off into the night like a goddamn thief.

Joel could've sworn he saw God that night, a smudged silhouette in the fogged up windows of his truck.

And now you’re here, standing in the doorway of some polished, high society home, looking like sin wrapped up in tulle and pearls.

Joel wasn’t a man who spooked easy, but seeing you again, surrounded by people who had no goddamn idea what you’d let him do to you in the backseat of his truck all those months ago, knocked him on his ass harder than a sucker punch.

The recognition was damn near instant, your eyes shining just as much as the sparkly sash that read “GRAD!” in big glittery letters. The initial shock gave way to a tiny, secret smile as your gaze slid up and down his body shamelessly, like this was some kind of funny inside joke.

Joel was seconds away from turning tail, walking back down your ridiculously long driveway and getting in his truck to get the hell out of there, but then your father was walking up behind you with a big grin on his face. He clapped Joel on the shoulder roughly and introduced his “Old buddy Joel Miller from his blue-collar days!”

You were all coy smiles and wide eyes. A sugared, “It’s so nice to meet you, Mr. Miller. Thank you for coming…” passing through your glossy lips.

The same lips that left shiny red smudges along the skin of his cock when you slid him down your throat, peering up at him with glassy eyes. The memory alone was enough to get heat stirring deep in his gut, and the way you looked at him now—all demure and polished, like you were some angelic scholar fresh off a podium—only made it worse.

Joel is too damn old for this.

“Very top of her class,” your father boasts, swishing his beer bottle through the air towards you flippantly. “Can you believe it? Just think of what we were doing at her age, brother. She sure as hell didn’t get any brains from me, that’s all her mother.”

Joel tries to chuckle with him, but it sounds strained, forced. He keeps his eyes facing forward, knee bouncing restlessly under the table. You’re looking at him again, hot and persistent against the side of his face. The heavy weight of your gaze practically begging him to look back. He doesn’t.

This dinner is it’s own form of torture, because of course, you just had to sit in the empty seat next to Joel—close enough that he can feel your knee bump up against his every few minutes.

He’s done a good job avoiding you until now, always walking the other direction when you waltz into the same room, not making eye contact when your gaze would sweep over the crowd hoping to catch his, trying for once in his life to be a good man.

A good man that suffers through this damn party without doing something he'll regret, that leaves at the end of the night and never has to see you again.

“Yeah,” he says, nervously starting to pick at the label of his own beer. Some snobby, imported New England brewery, probably sixty bucks a six-pack. “Good times.”

Joel can see you lean forward out of the corner of his eye, the neckline of your dress sliding down an inch as you stare at him, attention rapt. “What were you like back then, Mr. Miller?”

Joel nearly winces, his fingers tightening around the neck of his beer hard enough to turn the skin around his knuckles white.

‘Mr. Miller’ echoes in his ears lewdly, blaring like church bells. Your voice is nothing but a honey-sweet mockery, so syrupy he can nearly feel it trickling down his throat to add to the warmth settling low in his stomach.

Your father snorts over the lip of his bottle, answering you before Joel could open his mouth. “Joel didn’t go to college, honey. He went into the trades right after graduation,” he takes a long sip, Joel feels your knee bump against his again. “That’s how we met.”

You hum, nodding your head languidly. “You’re an architect too?”

Joel shakes his head, not looking at you as he answers. “Carpenter.”

Your father launches into some story about his old work days with Joel, about how back in the day, they were “real men” with “real jobs,” but Joel can barely process any of it. He nods along absently, lets out some half-hearted chuckles when he needs to.

Joel nearly puts his knee through the table when he feels your barefoot brush up against his ankle, hiking his jeans up ever so slightly. He shoots you a glare as subtly as he can.

It’s a look so sharp, so warning, that it should be enough to make you back the hell off from whatever game you’re playing. You’re not even looking at him anymore, eyes glued to your father as you nod along to whatever story he’s telling now.

But there’s a knowing little smile on your lips as your hand creeps beneath the table and falls into his lap, the pads of your fingers pressing against the inside of his thigh.

Joel goes still. Rigid as his breath catches on a sharp inhale.

Christ, you’re trying to kill him.

Your father’s voice pulls him out of the silent panic and heavy arousal waging a war inside of him. “How’s business, Joel?” he asks, leaning back in his chair. “You and Tommy still running things at a hundred miles a minute?”

Joel barely registers the question as your hand inches higher and higher. He can hear his own pulse pounding in his throat, in his chest, in his cock, already half-hard in his boxers from some goddamn heavy petting like a wet behind the ears teenager.

“Yeah, we–” Joel pauses, willing his voice to steady with a quick cough to clear his throat. “We’ve been pretty busy with Summer rollin' around.”

Your father hums in agreement, cracking open another beer. “Of course, my schedule’s been a killer too this season,” he brags shamelessly, tone heavy with understanding like he and Joel are in the same boat. Only your fathers boat is a three million dollar yacht sailing for blue-print meetings with big shot celebrities and architectural digest interviews. “It’s a miracle I even had time to fly in for the party, isn’t that right sweetheart?”

Your hand slides up the length of his cock in one slow stroke, your palm grinding roughly over the tip through the tented denim.

“Yes, daddy.”

Your voice has gone all light and airy around the edges, almost melodic as it buries itself in Joel’s ears. At first, Joel thinks you’re talking to your father, but when his eyes flick over to you, you’re looking at him—your eyes half-lidded and sparkling with something dangerous as your fingers tug at the tab of his zipper.

Joel’s hand flies to your wrist, squeezing tight enough to stop your pawing at his now fully hard cock. “Alright if I use your bathroom?” he asks sharply, his voice a little too loud. He tosses your hand away and stands abruptly from his chair before he’s got an answer.

“Of course,” your father says easily, thankfully not noticing the tension at the table, or the way Joel’s trying to subtly hold his hands over his crotch. He turns his attention towards you, “Would you show Joel where the downstairs bathroom is, honey?”

Your smile only widens as you slip your sandal on and calmly stand from your own chair. “Sure,” you say breezily, but you’re not looking at your father, dark eyes still glued to Joel’s. “Follow me.”

The flowy fabric of your dress swishes behind you as you walk through the yard, Joel hot on your heels. He waits until you're both in the house, stepping through the open sliding glass door and out of view before his hand flies to your arm and squeezes hard.

Joel hears you wince softly, but you don’t try to fight your way out of his grip. He leans down closer, his lips inches away from your ear. His voice is low and rough as he grits out, “Take me to your room, now.”

You lead him through the kitchen and up the stairs silently, but Joel can still see the smug smile on your lips as you turn the corner. The need to slap that bratty shit right off your face wracks through him like thunder, anger burning hotter in his chest with every step.

You push the door to your bedroom open and step inside, barely turning to face him before Joel slams the door shut behind him and stalks past you. His eyes are dark, filled with a mix of rage and want as he stares you down.

“Do you think this is a goddamn game?” His voice is teeming with fury, the calm facade he scarcely maintained at dinner now entirely gone. “That you can do whatever the hell you please because your Daddy’s sittin' across from you?”

You bite your bottom lip, leaning against the door with your arms crossed behind your back coyly. “You didn’t bring me a present.”

It’s a taunt if Joel’s ever heard one, and it finally breaks him.

He crosses the room in three large strides, pinning you against the door. His hands on either side of your head, caging you in. Joel cranes his neck down, his face inches away from yours. He can smell your perfume this close, it’s different than what you wore at the bar—something soft and girly and sweet that has his cock straining in his boxer.

“You’re real fuckin' proud of yourself aren’t you?” he spits roughly, watching the way your pupils dilate, eyes going glossy under his intensity. “Does your old man know how much of a tramp his precious little baby girl is? That she’s got such a greedy fuckin' pussy she can’t help herself from rubbin' his buddy Joel’s cock under the table like a desperate slut.”

“Joel,” you whisper breathlessly, all the attitude draining from you at the drop of a hat the second he gets a little mean. Your eyes are stuck on his lips and, after a beat, you start leaning in, like you’ll die if you don’t kiss him.

Joel stops you with a hand fisted in your hair, keeping you still a few centimeters away from his lips. A pitiful whine falls from your slack mouth, wide eyes flicking back up to meet his with a pleading look.

“You want me to kiss you, princess?” he asks, mean and condescending. Your breath puffs over his lips, hot and needy as you nod your head as best you can. Joel laughs, dark and cool as he shakes his head slowly. “Whores like you don’t get kissed baby, they get fucked.”

It does something to you—Joel can see it in the way your lashes flutter, in the way your thighs press together, like you can feel his words between your legs. He watches the rise and fall of your chest quicken, the way your lips part as a little breathless sound escapes them, and he knows he’s got you right where he wants you.

Desperate. Squirming. Ready to let him ruin you.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, low and almost reverent, but the wicked curl of his lips betrays the softness in his tone. “Bet you’re already soaked, aren’t you?”

You nod, your chest rising up to press against his with every breath.

“Words,” he demands, voice sharp as a needle. Your thighs twitch at the sound of it.

“Yes,” you breathe shakily. “I’ve been wet since you got here.”

That has Joel groaning, jaw ticking as his cock twitches heavily in his boxers, pre-come oozing into the cotton.

He doesn’t waste another second. He drops your hair to grab your shoulders, pulling and pushing until you’re tumbling onto your old bed. You let out a sharp gasp as your back hits the mattress, the force of it bouncing you a few times.

Joel looms over you, watching you, finally letting himself get a good look at the picture you make. Splayed across dainty floral sheets, chest heaving, staring up at him with need written all over your pretty face. It practically pumps off of you in waves, he can almost taste it.

Without another word, Joel reaches for his belt, his heavy gaze never leaving yours. The metal of his buckle clinks loudly in the quiet of the room, underscored by the quick pants of your breath. It snaps with how hard he yanks it out of his belt loops, the leather cracking in the air menacingly.

"You wanted this," Joel mutters, popping the button on his jeans, dragging the zipper down with a sharp hiss. "You practically fuckin’ begged for it."

You make a desperate little sound at the sight of his cock finally being freed from the confines of his jeans—thick, heavy, and leaking when it slaps against his stomach. Your legs spread wider like an offering, like you need it in you now.

Joel huffs out a laugh, grabbing your ankle and yanking you down the bed, making you squeak in surprise. He climbs on the mattress, his body completely blanketing yours so you couldn’t move if you wanted to.

His hand drags down your body, over the swell of your breasts, over your ribs, the curve of your hip, until he’s gripping the hem of your dress. Joel slips his hand under the skirt, rough palms gliding up the soft skin of your thighs before gripping the meat of them hard enough to bruise.

The thought of you finding the marks tomorrow, pretty shades of purple and yellow branding your skin as a reminder of this moment, of what Joel did to you—it makes his stomach flip with a sick thrill.

It doesn’t take much for Joel to push the bunched fabric around your hips the rest of the way up, exposing the barely-there scrap of lace covering you.

He makes a sound low in his throat when he sees the little damp spot blooming along the powder blue fabric. “So fuckin’ needy,” he mutters, tracing his middle finger along the wet seam of your pussy, featherlight, teasing. “Can’t even sit through one damn dinner without beggin’ for my attention like a two-bit truck stop whore.”

You nod frantically, lips trembling, pupils blown wide as you blink up at him.

Joel tsks mockingly, raising his palm to give your clothed pussy a sharp slap that has you crying out. “Use your words, baby.”

“Yes,” you gasp. “Please, Joel.”

Your voice is so soft, so wrecked. And Joel feels himself get impossibly harder, his cock throbbing where it’s pressed against your stomach, blurting pre-come onto the delicate pink tulle of your dress. He can hardly wait any longer.

Joel hooks a finger into the leg of your panties, dragging them down hard enough that he hears a rip. He can’t find it in himself to care, he just pulls them far enough that they pool around your ankles uselessly.

He finally takes himself in his hand so he can drag his cock through the wet mess of your pussy, bumping it up against your hole but not giving you a damn inch. A devastating noise falls from your lips, slow and sweet as molasses, your hips buck up off the mattress, trying to take him in. He presses one heavy hand down on your stomach, keeping you still.

“Ask me for it,” Joel whispers darkly, slapping the head over your glistening clit. “Beg for my cock.”

Your fingers curl into the sheets, frustration and desire burning in the inky black of your pupils. “Please, Joel. It’s all I can think about, can only think about you,” you ramble senseslessly, voice breathless. “About you fucking me. About your cock stretching me open. Please fuck me, please, want it so bad.”

Fuck, he loves hearing you beg.

Joel grips your hips, holding you steady as he presses inside, slow at first, just enough to make you gasp, enough to let you feel how thick he is stretching you open. He curses, head falling forward as he watches himself disappear inside you inch by inch.

Your hands scramble along the length of his back, nails scratching uselessly as you try to adjust to the sudden fullness. Joel knows he’s too big, the stretch too much all at once without prep. He knows it. He just doesn’t give a damn.

“I know, it’s a big stretch ain’t it?” Joel coos, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles over the skin of your hips. “You can still take it, darlin’. It’s what you wanted, wanted me to lose my goddamn mind and ruin this sweet little pussy.”

You nod desperately, a loud cry bursting from your chest as he pulls you back until his hips are flush with your ass. Your velvety heat feels scalding around him, snug and perfect, like it was made for him—made for his cock.

“Fuck, baby,” he stays there for a beat, buried to the hilt—forcing you really feel the full, aching stretch before he starts to move. He drags his cock out to the tip, almost all the way, before slamming forward again, knocking the breath from your lungs. “That’s it—take it all, just like that.”

Joel sets a brutal pace, fucking you so deep he swears he must be in your goddamn guts. His grip is merciless, his fingers digging into your hips as he uses them to pull you back against him, meeting every punishing thrust. The dirty sound of skin on skin fills the room, mixing with the slick squelch of your pussy as it tries to suck him back in each time he pulls out, the pretty soft gasps and moans you’re struggling to keep quiet the cherry on top of it all.

It’s so loud, a symphony of lewd sounds bouncing off the walls enough that Joel would be worried that someone might overhear if your house wasn’t such a maze.

Joel watches you writhe beneath him, your back arching, hands grasping at his shoulders, his arms, his hair, desperate for something to hold onto as he fucks into you with ruthless precision. Every thrust sends a shockwave through your body, makes your breath hitch, your legs trembling where they’re locked tight around his waist.

“Poor thing,” he mutters, voice a low rasp in your ear. “Too dumb to talk now, huh? Just layin’ here, takin’ it like a good little whore.”

Your eyes roll back in your head when he tilts his hips, the new angle forcing his cock to rub up against your sweet spot with every thrust. “Joel–”

Joel leans over you, breath hot against your ear as he mutters, “This what you needed, baby? Needed Daddy’s friend to hike your pretty dress up and fuck you good and hard like this?” He speeds his hips up fast enough to get the bed shaking on its frame. “Actin’ like a spoiled little brat all night just so I’d drag you up here and teach you some fuckin’ manners?”

“Yes, yes, yes, fuck—” Your words slur together, breathy and high-pitched, your fingers twisting in his hair as he keeps up that relentless pace.

Joel reaches up to snatch your jaw in a tight grip, the rhythm of his hips never faltering. “Open your mouth,” he growls, fingers digging into the meat of your cheeks meanly. When you don’t, too fucked out of your mind to listen, he shakes your head back and forth like a bad dog. “Open it.”

The command breaks through the pleasure filled haze clouding your mind, and your mouth falls open obediently. Your slick lips parting enough for Joel to see the enticing pink of your tongue. A groan claws its way out from deep in his chest, and he leans down close to spit into your mouth.

Your moan is a high, choked whine as your eyes flutter shut, your pussy squeezing around his cock impossibly tighter.

“Don’t you dare fuckin’ swallow,” he says, fucking into your clenching heat harder. “Hold it right there.”

You open your eyes to stare up at him like he’s some kind of God, your lashes clumped together and glossy with unshed tears—gaze glazed over with a kind of bliss that makes something dark and satisfied wriggle to life in his chest.

“Good girl,” he mutters, barely above a whisper, but the words hit you like a sack of bricks. Your walls squeeze around him, and he groans low in his chest. His hands grip your thighs, spreading you even wider so he can watch the way his cock disappears into your puffy pussy, shining with your slick every time he pulls out. “Look at that. Fuckin’ made to take cock, aren’t you?”

You moan around closed lips, nails digging little crescent moons into his shoulders so hard that he can feel his shirt ripping under the force of it. Joel can tell you’re getting close, your whole body trembling violently as the coil of your orgasm winds tighter and tighter.

“Go ahead and swallow for me, baby girl.” Joel needs to hear you, needs to hear you say his name when you come on his cock. “Wanna hear that pretty voice.”

The sound of you swallowing is music to Joel’s ears, his hips stuttering as he watches your throat work.

“Please,” you gasp, fat crocodile tears rolling down your cheeks. “Need to come, need you to make me—”

“Yes,” he hisses, his thrusts turning sloppy for a beat before he regains his rhythm. “You gonna come for me, baby? Gonna soak my cock nice and good?”

His words push you right over the edge. Your entire body tenses, pleasure rolling through you in a white-hot wave as your climax crashes over you, stealing your breath. You sob Joel’s name, thighs shaking uncontrollably, body shuddering beneath him as you clench down so fucking tight he can barely move.

Joel groans, his jaw going slack as he watches you fall apart, losing himself in the feel of your pussy milking his cock. He grits his teeth, hips snapping erratically as he chases his own release.

“Fuck—gonna fill you up, baby,” he groans, voice wrecked. “Gonna fuck you full of me, make you mine.”

With one last thrust, Joel spills inside of you. He buries himself as deep as he can go, warmth flooding your core as spurt after spurt of come paints your insides, thick and hot. His body shakes with the force of it, a deep, guttural moan falling from his lips as he rides out his orgasm.

Joel just stays there, panting, his forehead resting against yours.

For a moment, both of you are too overwhelmed to move. You just lay on the mattress tangled together in the aftermath, breaths mingling, bodies slick with sweat. Joel smooths his hands up your sides, grounding himself as you both come down from the highs of ecstasy.

When you finally stop shaking, Joel pulls back just enough to look at you, to take in the wrecked, spent look on your face. He brushes his knuckles over your sweaty cheek, softer than before. “Still think I didn’t bring you a present?”

You let out an amused huff, pushing your hands up under the back of his shirt so you can trace the column of his spine with gentle fingers. “Trust me, it’s the only present I’m getting that’ll be worth a damn. Money can’t buy this, Miller.”

Joel chuckles, low and smooth as warmth blooms in his chest. He presses a lingering kiss to your shoulder. “You earned it, baby.”

mini nat's note: thank you so much for reading! mwah.

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gimmethatagustd · 2 months ago

Text

paint me naked | jjk

After the mysteriously hot guy in your university class starts taking an interest in you, should you really trust that he’s not like all the other college fuckboys? Especially when his best friend is the guy who broke your heart?

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (past Taehyung)

Rating: Explicit

Genre/Trope: College AU, friends to lovers, fluff, smut, light angst

Word Count: 17,025

Content Warning: Self-esteem issues, alcohol, marijuana (of course, it's a jai fic), brief mention of drug dealing, it's very "hehe I have a crush" y'know, kinda YA of me jshdfks rip, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, cunnilingus, can you tell I was a depressed poetry student in college??

A/N: This ended up being my most popular fic back in the day (lol like a year ago). I'm ngl, I don't think of it as highly as I do the other fics I've written, but this was I think the second fic I ever wrote?? Back in 2022. Crazy times. So y'know, growth and whateva. The funniest part is that probs 85% of this fic literally happened to me sjdfks. Except the "Jungkook" was only my friend and we just got stoned and vibed, and instead of painting a naked woman, one time during our studio sessions he painted an abstract rendition of my "soul" but it really just looked like a thumb I'm ngl. All my friends said he was in love with me cuz who paints portraits of someone's soul??

Soundtrack: Paint Me Naked - Ten

“Jungkook, I don’t think this is gonna work.”

“Let me try.”

Your eyes strained to see the boy standing in front of you, but the room was pitch black. It was good, though. You’d purposefully blocked out as much light as you possibly could. It had been a surprisingly difficult feat, mostly because the two of you hadn’t thought this through very well. A rolled up towel was shoved against the bottom of the bedroom door to keep the light from the hallway out. Blackout curtains had already been drawn over the windows when you got there, so that made the window problem easier. Luckily, you’d remembered to unplug the digital clock sitting on the nightstand next to the bed, the last piece of light you could have some control over putting out.

To make things weirder, you were in Jungkook’s parents’ room.

“It’s the darkest room in the house!” he’d insisted and you hadn’t objected because, well, it seemed on brand for the way the entire night was going.

With arms stretched out, your fingers pressed into something bumpy and hard. You could hear Jungkook’s breathing beside you and a light laugh alerted to you that he was much closer than you’d initially thought. After a quick prod, fingers gliding slightly upward, you realized you were grabbing his abdomen. The hard ripples you’d felt were his toned abs beneath his thin t-shirt.

“Sorry,” you whispered, though there was no need to be quiet. Jungkook’s hands wrapped around yours and took the objects you had clutched between them: scissors and an undeveloped film roll.

Drawing your hands back to your side, you waited in silence. The sound of metal scraping against plastic was the only sound in the room aside from the quiet rustle of wind blowing through leaves outside. You don’t think you’d ever felt silence before until that moment. It was electric, a pulsing sizzle that sparked up your fingertips and jolted into your heart as you stood beside Jungkook. The harmony your breathing had fallen into made the moment feel far more intimate than you’d expected. Why was standing in the dark with someone so intimate?

“Fuck,” Jungkook muttered, and you heard what you imagined was him stabbing the scissors into the film.

“Oh my god, please don’t cut yourself, okay? I don’t know where the hospital is from here.”

His only response was another quiet laugh and you knew from the sound that his nose was doing that scrunched up thing that it always did when he was making fun of you. After only a few months of knowing Jungkook he was certainly very comfortable teasing you. He was pretty comfortable with you in general, you were beginning to realize.

And why were you here? Standing in the dark with a boy you barely knew from a shared university class, one who towered over you in height as well as being much larger than you physically. Trying to pop open film because Jungkook somehow thought you could actually develop this film without having access to a real darkroom. Sure, all throughout high school you’d taken film photography classes. You had the development process memorized by heart, from the length of time the film needed to soak to the different types of chemicals needed and what order you were supposed to submerge the prints in. You’d even emailed your old high school teacher to double check.

But doing all of that in Jungkook’s parents’ house? You knew it wasn’t going to work, but the guy had insisted on you helping him. Was it concerning that he had all these chemicals stored in a plastic tub in his closet? Maybe. And was it the safest decision to use scissors to pop open the film instead of the proper tool (which Jungkook had forgotten to order off of Amazon in advance)? Absolutely not.

On top of that, no one knew where you were; you’d simply told your roommates that you were going to hang out with the guy from your university poetry class.

“Jungkook? The weird one with all the tattoos and piercings?” Your roommate, Amiriah, had asked.

“He’s not that weird.”

“Y/N, he wrote a poem about eating pussy for a class assignment. You said so yourself. Please tell me how that’s a normal thing to do.”

“And didn’t he have to read it outloud to the class because he turned it in late?” Now it was time for Courtney to pipe in from her position lounging on the couch, an episode of Love Connection paused on the TV screen.

“Okay, yes, he did do both those things. But I swear he’s actually really sweet. He’s just misunderstood.”

Courtney had launched a pillow at you, though the object zoomed past your head and landed against the refrigerator, knocking down multiple of Amiriah’s magnets. Much to her dismay.

“Maybe we should take a break.”

Jungkook’s voice brought you back to reality, or at least some semblance of it. You couldn’t understand how someone could have such a soft voice. Listening to Jungkook speak was like floating on a cloud. His cadence was a gentle caress against your skin, a sound that could easily flutter your eyes and lull you to sleep. It didn’t matter what he was saying; everything sounded better coming from Jungkook’s mouth.

You nodded, forgetting that he couldn’t see you. A few moments and a bit of shuffling later, the lights sprung on. Your eyes instantly shut and slowly pried open again from the blaring brightness.

The poor film looked like it had been mauled by a bear, but it was still somehow intact. Jungkook slipped it into his pocket for safekeeping and turned to look at you. He had this thing about eye contact that really made you uncomfortable. When he met your gaze, he looked straight into your eyes, as if he was looking into you rather than at you.

“Do you want a drink?”

His question caught you off guard, but he was already picking up the towel from the floor to open the bedroom door. Without answering, you followed him through the house and into the kitchen. You stood in the doorway, hands clasped in front of you, eyes following his large frame navigating the kitchen cabinets.

“All my parents have is rosé, is that okay?”

He uncorked the chilled bottle and poured each of you a glass. Then he did something that your roommates could add to the list of weird things they’d developed for him.

He sat on the floor.

You stared at him with your lips slightly parted, unsure if you were supposed to follow him. There was an entire kitchen table with multiple chairs. Why was he sitting on the floor with his back leaned against the doorframe? Bottle of rosé sitting on the tile next to him. He looked up at you with impossibly soft doe eyes and you couldn’t just stand there with your glass. So, you slowly sank to the floor, your shoulders brushing against each other as you sat next to him.

“Y’know, I just realized the film you have is color film.” You spoke slowly, hating that you were about to burst his bubble. “You wouldn’t be able to develop it at home, anyway. The chemicals you bought are for black and white film, and color film has to be developed using heat.”

“Damn.” Jungkook tipped his head back to take a very deep drink of his wine.

“We gave a valiant effort, though.” You flashed him a small smile and the grin you got in return made your face grow hot.

Your roommates weren’t really wrong. Jungkook didn’t have the best reputation on your university campus. There were rumors that he sold drugs (marijuana and acid, specifically) and had gang affiliations. He was quiet, kept to himself, and didn’t seem to have a whole lot of friends aside from a few guys who were equally just as questionable. Yes, you knew he’d gotten arrested the day before spring break started for getting into a fight with a guy on campus, but based on what your friends had told you, it was definitely the other guy’s fault.

You’d also heard he had great head game, but that was a whole other thing. You just had a really hard time believing all the bad things people said about him, even when he’d admitted to a lot of the rumors being true.

“A gang tried to recruit me when I was fresh outta high school, but I like selling on my own. Can’t trust people for shit.”

He’d said it so casually, and you wondered what was wrong with you for finding a conversation about dealing drugs attractive.

The thing your roommates, and a lot of other people, didn’t understand was that there was more to Jungkook than whatever dumb rumors got spread around (real or not). He was an exceptional writer. His poetry weaved in elements of hip hop, almost sounding like eloquent and lyrical rap lyrics rather than your typical stuffy poem that other students in your class tried to pass off as profound. He didn’t shy away from writing about mental health, sex, relationships, and loss. Everything he put down was raw, and you liked that it made other people in the class uncomfortable. Jungkook wasn’t afraid to be himself. Wasn’t that what art was supposed to be all about?

And he was artistic in every way. Not only did he write well, but he was obviously into photography, and he also dabbled in multimedia sculpture. But the most impressive was probably his paintings. You’d seen the work he’d posted on Instagram, and during one of your hangouts he’d told you about how he’d been commissioned by the city to work on a public mural with another local artist.

Very few people knew these things about Jungkook. They saw the tattoos, the piercings, the occasional blunt wedged between his lips, and they painted him in a way that was so distorted it annoyed you.

“Thanks for helping me, though. I appreciate you.”

You bit your bottom lip into your mouth to suppress another smile, instead opting to simply nod your head and cover up any expression by taking a drink.

At this point, the two of you had been hanging out at least once a week. Usually you just sat outside on his parents’ front porch and smoked and talked about life. His parents seemed to always be out of town, and although Jungkook lived across the hall from you in the university dorms, he stayed at his parents’ house a lot to take care of their dog.

It felt weird, though, hanging out with Jungkook. It was like all your interactions could only happen during those moments; otherwise, he didn’t talk to you when you saw him around campus. Even in your advanced poetry class, he would lock eyes with you across the room, but he never said a word.

And it didn’t help that he was best friends and roommates with Kim Taehyung, the campus casanova who’d fucked you like you were the only girl in the world for an entire semester until you saw him cuddled up at a party with some other girl who didn’t even go to your university. The next day he was standing at your dorm asking for his skateboard back, weaving some lie about how summer break was the time to be single and have fun, but that he would “never forget” the fun times you’d had.

Then Taehyung got a girlfriend.

So maybe you were a little bit bitter over how things ended with Taehyung (and maybe you’d spent the entire summer crying yourself to sleep at night and aimlessly scrolling through Tinder, looking for anyone who might replace him and finding nothing). But the worst part was knowing that Taehyung had probably talked to Jungkook about you, and you had no idea what he might have said.

“Hopefully the film is still okay,” you said after a moment, trying to pull yourself out of the cyclical negative thoughts you were often consumed by.

You finished your glass, shaking your head at Jungkook’s offer for more rosé. He nodded, pushing himself up to stand and reached out to take your empty glass.

You watched him from the floor as he washed the glasses in the sink. Your eyes lingered just a bit too long on the way his forearm muscles flexed while he cleaned, a few veins popping out along the back of his hands and the inside of his arm. Tattoos and piercings hadn’t ever been your thing, not that you didn’t appreciate the allure of body modifications. You’d just found yourself going after boys who looked polished, good boys to take home to mom. Jungkook had been the one to initiate your friendship, asking to hang out while you worked on your poems or read the many poetry collections due for class. You’d be a liar if you said his sudden interest in you hadn’t sparked your own interest in him.

Just one glass of wine was enough to make you a bit lightheaded, and Jungkook was a heavy pourer, apparently.

“You good?”

You blinked and stared into Jungkook’s face. He was drying off his hands now, watching you with an amused look on his face.

“Umm, yeah. Just a lightweight,” you said with a breathy laugh that sounded a little too forced for your liking. Jungkook didn’t seem to notice.

“You wanna go to my studio with me? The one on campus?”

You looked down at your phone, a few text messages popping up from your roommates demanding to know where you were. Swiping to clear the notifications, you looked up at Jungkook and gave him a small smile.

“Sure.”

“That thing so fire baby, no propane. Got good pussy, girl, can I be frank? To keep it 100, girl, I ain’t no saint.”

Music came blaring out of the car’s speakers at an alarmingly high volume, causing you to exhale a startled shout. Jungkook quickly lunged to turn down the volume and accidentally honked the car’s horn when his shoulder leaned against the steering wheel.

“Shit, sorry.”

“Talk about fucking sensory overload, fuck,” you mumbled, heart still dazed in your chest.

“It was actually nice outside for once. I was whippin’ with the windows down, so the music’s gotta be louder.”

All he was getting from you was rolled eyes and the sound of your seatbelt clicking into place.

Jungkook turned around to look over his shoulder as he backed out of the driveway. He grabbed onto the back of your seat to position himself; once again, you found yourself eyeing his arms, exploring the exposed tattoos. It kind of pissed you off how hot it was when guys drove backwards. What was evolutionarily advantageous about that attraction?

“If you wanna change it, I got a couple CDs.”

Jungkook motioned to the middle console. You flipped through them, finding the album that was currently playing. You’d recognize it anywhere; he was one of your favorite musicians.

“Bryson Tiller?” You turned the CD case over in your hand, eyes scanning the tracklist on the back. “You listen to sex music while you drive? And off a CD instead of Bluetooth, no less?”

Jungkook barked out a laugh, all teeth and crinkled eyes that you could just barely make out as the streetlights streaked over his face.

“Yeah, I guess I do. You got a problem with Bryson?” His fingers lazily tapped against the steering wheel to the relaxed beat of Don’t - which happened to be your favorite song on the album. “This car is twenty-one years old. You’re lucky we’re not sitting here listening to cassettes.”

“Who doesn’t like Bryson Tiller? That’s the baby-making music of our generation,” you said with a laugh. “Honestly, I can’t believe this song came out in fuckin’ 2015. Why does that feel like such a long time ago?”

Jungkook sat in the driver’s seat with his legs spread as much as possible; this position was what had made you realize just how thick and nice his thighs really were. Plus, he drove with one hand on top of the steering wheel, left elbow bent slightly. He usually let his right hand rest against his thigh, though sometimes he held onto the gear shift in between the two of you.

There was rarely any traffic in your college town, and especially not at 10pm on a Tuesday night. The two of you fell silent, Bryson Tiller’s soulful lyrics swirling through the car in the absence of conversation. Jungkook was typically a man of few words. You’d grown accustomed to carrying the conversation. With most people, that would have bothered you, but with Jungkook it was different. You knew he was paying attention when you talked; you could see it in the way the corners of his mouth twitched when you said something dorky (which was, apparently, all the time).

And when he did have something to say, it was always worth the wait.

“You’ve got good taste,” Jungkook said after driving a few blocks. “Guess I should probably add him to my sex playlist.”

Before you had time to process his comment Jungkook was pulling into the east parking lot of your university, the part of campus that was off to the side and only held art-related facilities.

He led you to an unmarked backdoor of the building closest to the parking lot. Pushing the door open, he held it for you with a sweep of his hand.

“Ladies first, noona.”

Scowling at the honorific, you still obliged, entering a long hallway. The walls were bare, just an eggshell white, a few black scuff marks here and there, as if someone had been carrying something large and struggled to fit it through the narrow space. Jungkook maneuvered past you to lead the way to another unmarked door.

The studio was a lot larger than you expected. One side of the room had a large rack of painted canvases to dry. You turned to inspect the left side of the room, finding multiple easels with additional canvases of varying sizes, most blank or seemingly half-finished. A rather worn-looking couch was placed in the middle of the room. Beside it was a coffee table and a Bluetooth speaker. (So Jungkook did know about modern technology.) Paint-covered tarps protected much of the concrete floor, and there were paint buckets and other supplies scattered in every corner. The entire room was pure chaos, but it seemed like there was an organization to it that only Jungkook knew.

“So… yeah. This is my studio.” Jungkook closed the door behind you and locked it.

Your heart skipped a beat at his action, but you swallowed down the spike of fear that had threatened to bubble up inside of you. You’d spent plenty of alone time with Jungkook. There was nothing to worry about.

“I had to practically beg the school to let me have my own space since I’m not an art major, but they eventually let up,” Jungkook continued with a shrug.

You were impressed, honestly. Jungkook wasn’t known for being the most reliable student academically; it was surprising they’d given him such privileges.

“I like it,” you said simply, eyes still roaming the space. You weren’t sure what you were supposed to do now. Studio art wasn’t really your thing, poetry was.

Luckily, Jungkook had a knack for reading your mind.

“You can sit on the couch if you want. I got a project due tomorrow morning, so I’m gonna work on it. But if you wanna paint, just lemme know.” He scrolled through his phone as he spoke, and eventually more R&B music started playing from the speaker.

“Tomorrow morning? JK, it’s fucking 10:30.”

You stared at him with your head tilted to the side in disbelief, but you were only met with another shrug and a grin. Living on the edge. King of Procrastination, Jeon Jungkook. You were already getting secondhand stress.

With a quiet hum to himself as the music took over, it was clear to you that Jungkook had switched to his serious side. He began prepping one of his easels with various paint brushes and paints. Dragging a heavy-looking but small filing cabinet next to the easel, he used the surface to store his supplies while he worked.

You flopped onto the couch, adjusting so you could have a clear view of Jungkook. He looked cute in his jeans and black hoodie, a blunt pencil tucked behind his ear. His lips pouted slightly as he planned what he was going to do with his painting. Occasionally the pencil would be plucked from his ear and a few sketches appeared on the canvas, too light for you to see what they were from your position on the couch.

The vibration of your phone tore your eyes away from Jungkook’s figure. It was no surprise that your roommate group text was blowing up.

Courtnayyy 😘 [10:00] BITCH WHERE ARE YOU A Mili Amiriah 👑 [10:01] pls tell me the weirdo didn’t murder u Courtnayyy 😘 [10:04] If he did can I have your Mac Miller poster? A Mili Amiriah 👑 [10:15] court how tf would she approve of that if she’s dead? she ain’t gonna see this shit Courtnayyy 😘 [10:18] Ouija board A Mili Amiriah 👑 [10:25] stfu 🔫 A Mili Amiriah 👑 [10:25] Y/N you better answer ur fucking phone right now A Mili Amiriah 👑 [10:40] hellooooooooooooooooooo

You let out a sigh loud enough for Jungkook to look over at you, eyebrows furrowed.

“My roommates think you killed me.”

Jungkook grinned and turned back to his easel with a shake of his head. You’d expected him to say something, but then the reminder that Jungkook was… unconventional slithered into your mind.

[10:45] I’m alive. Can you pls stop blowing up my phone now? 💀 Courtnayyy 😘 [10:46] FUCKING FINALLY A Mili Amiriah 👑 [10:47] what are you doing?? [10:50] We’re just hanging out at his studio. I’ll probably leave soon

You tossed your phone next to you on the couch and lifted your arms into the air to stretch. It was rather warm in the studio and the smooth music of whatever playlist Jungkook had on was making you feel sleepy. What kind of lame college student were you?

“I was serious about what I said.” Jungkook didn’t look at you while he painted, too focused on mixing the right shade of brown.

“About what?”

“You can paint if you want. All the paint and brushes are in the cabinet.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, eyes flitting from the filing cabinet next to Jungkook to the easel off to the side with a blank canvas. What if whatever you painted looked like shit? You had no idea what you were doing.

But when did you ever get to paint in your adult life?

Pushing yourself off the couch you approached Jungkook to start rummaging in the drawers for supplies. You were stopped in your tracks, however, the moment your eyes landed on his painting. Considering that much time hadn’t passed, Jungkook was far along in his work. You came face to face with a woman, or at least the naked body of a woman. She was painted in soft earthy tones, curves accentuated by what looked like a gold silk ribbon that wrapped around her. The painting was certainly abstract because she was missing a head and her limbs weren’t finished, but just having her strong torso and thighs, and a long regal neck, somehow made her feel complete.

“That’s beautiful, JK. She looks so realistic… How can you do all those little details so quickly?” You spoke quietly, desperately wishing you could touch the canvas.

“Painting nudity is easy.” Another classic Jungkook shrug. “That’s why it’s so overdone. There’s nothing more beautiful than humans in their purest state, right? We’re the original art.”

You would have never considered nudity to be pure, but you liked Jungkook’s analysis. Society saw nudity as all about sex. Despite his depiction of breasts and genitalia, Jungkook’s painting was a reflection and appreciation of a body.

You wondered if it was anyone’s body in particular.

The thought soured your mood a bit, and you quickly returned your focus to finding the supplies you needed. Satisfied, you took up the easel beside Jungkook. What the fuck were you going to paint? Especially now that you had this beautiful work blooming next to you.

“Don’t think about it so much. Just go for it.”

There was Jungkook reading your mind again.

You weren’t sure how much time passed with the two of you working silently. At first you’d considered doing something abstract, but eventually you felt compelled to do something a bit more realistic. You’d retrieved your phone (ignoring your roommates’ texts again) to pull up a photo for reference as you painted.

After a while Jungkook lifted his finished painting and carried it to the rack to dry. By the time he had completed his painting, you were putting your final touches on yours - one that was far more simplistic. You found it entertaining, though.

“Who is that?”

You’d been so absorbed in getting those final details perfected that you hadn’t noticed Jungkook standing right behind you. You jumped slightly and that elicited a chuckle from the boy.

“It’s a portrait of Bad Bunny.” Your greatest celebrity crush.

“He’s cute. You did a good job considering you looked so scared to start.” His comment left your cheeks burning. You’d hoped it hadn’t been so obvious, but Jungkook was too observant for his own good (and for yours, too). “Maybe I should hire you as my assistant.”

“Thanks. It’s not as good as yours, though.”

Jungkook waved you off and the action made him realize he had a good amount of paint on his hands. Rather than find a towel, he simply rubbed his hands against his thighs. You watched him, eyes lingering on the way his thighs stretched the tight material of his jeans. Looking up to return to his face you were met with a smirk. You were doing a real shitty job at being subtle, apparently.

You chose not to say anything and focused your attention on finishing your painting, not wanting Jungkook to be waiting for you longer than he needed to. He sat down on the couch, now distracted by his phone.

“So,” you spoke as you lifted up your finished painting, following Jungkook’s instructions to put it on the drying rack. “What was the inspiration for your painting?”

Was it a bold question? You were trying to play it off like you weren’t going to cling to whatever his answer was.

Jungkook patted the space next to him to encourage you to sit down. Once you were sitting next to him, your body turned slightly to face him, Jungkook leaned forward. His face was mere inches from yours and you could feel his breath tickle your cheek. He watched you with those brown doe eyes, such an innocent feature on an otherwise devious-looking face. The smirk that formed on his lips strongly contrasted the sweetness of his eyes.

Jungkook’s tongue poked out to play with his lip ring before he answered your question. It was impossible to look away from his lips, and you thought you felt your heart stop.

“The deadline.”

The smirk grew deeper as he pulled away, running a hand through his hair. You were more than disappointed, feeling yourself deflate and finally realizing you’d been holding your breath. Your shoulders slumped slightly, but you managed to mask the reason for your disappointment by pretending you were disappointed in him.

“Boy, you need to work on your assignments earlier so you can come up with something good,” you huffed, crossing your arms against your chest.

“Was it not good?” He grinned, a cocky twinkle in his eyes, no longer doe-shaped but narrowed in mirth. “Come on, let me drop you off. It’s almost 2.”

“Fuck, I have an 8am.”

With a quick check on your phone you saw that it was indeed almost 2am. How had you spent almost four hours in the studio without realizing it? Nevermind the fact that you’d spent another three or four hanging out with Jungkook before you’d even gotten to the studio.

“I’d skip if I was you.”

Jungkook led you through the art building and to his car, making sure that the music didn’t startle you half to death when he started the car this time.

“Unlike you, I’m a good student, thanks.”

It wasn’t a terrible dig because you knew Jungkook enough to know he didn’t give a shit. All he’d do was give you a small smile and melt your heart with the confusion of how it was possible for someone to look both so soft and so dangerous.

Your dorm was on the other side of campus, so the drive over was quick. But rather than drop you off at the sidewalk, Jungkook pulled into the parking lot, much to your surprise.

“I thought you were staying over at your parents’?”

Jungkook kept the car running, but he unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned back in his chair.

“Me and Tae are gonna go smoke. I got this new strain of indica we wanna try.”

He didn’t look at you when he spoke, instead facing forward to peer out the window. Once he brought up weed, you realized you could smell the remnants of weed smoke in Jungkook’s car, partially masked by air freshener.

At the mention of Jungkook’s roommate you felt your stomach drop. The feeling was only intensified when you followed Jungkook’s gaze to see a figure with long legs and broad shoulders make their way down the sidewalk, heading right in your direction. You felt ice shoot through your veins and panic settle into your chest.

“Oh,” you squeaked out. You needed to escape, but you couldn’t force your hands to unbuckle yourself and open the door.

“Do you wanna come with us?” Jungkook took your lack of movement as a desire to get high.

You looked at Jungkook with an open mouth, but nothing came out. And even if you could speak, Taehyung was already flinging the car door open.

“Oh, shit, Y/N. I didn’t even see you there.” Taehyung leaned against the car door, eyes sweeping over your small figure as you attempted to look as relaxed as possible.

Did he lick his lips or were you just imagining that?

“Want me to sit in the back?”

Taehyung leaned down so he could poke his head into the car and talk to Jungkook right over you. The position gave you a perfect view of his neck and his collarbones peeking out from beneath the silk button-up shirt he was wearing, the first few buttons undone as usual. His cologne smelled like cedar and you could faintly smell something fruity, likely the strawberry-flavored vape he smoked.

All of that was enough to send you mentally screaming into the void.

“ThanksJungkookIgottago,” you sputtered, doing your best not to touch Taehyung as you moved around him to get out.

“Y/N!”

You ignored Jungkook’s call, not daring to look back. Despite your exhaustion you took the stairs two at a time until you made it to your dorm, nearly dropping your keys as you unlocked the door. The kitchen and living room were dark, so you knew your roommates were asleep - or at least in their own rooms. You didn’t even bother to do your nighttime routine, opting to strip down to your underwear and collapse into your bed face-first.

Darkness and silence brought you no solitude; quite honestly, they had the opposite effect. All you had in your head was Taehyung’s face… in your ears, his voice… in your nostrils, his smell.

Groaning, you flipped onto your back and grabbed your phone to put on your favorite thunderstorm white noise playlist. In the middle of picking the perfect sound, your phone buzzed with a text.

Jungkook (Poetry) [2:15] you good?

You bit your lip, not wanting to leave him hanging so late, but also knowing if you went down this rabbithole you’d never fall asleep.

[2:16] I’m fine

Your phone vibrated almost immediately, but you forced yourself to put it away. Whatever Jungkook had to say could wait until the morning. Or until never, because right now you never wanted to speak to another human ever again.

Jungkook (Poetry) [2:16] you don’t have to lie to me Jungkook (Poetry) [3:02] lying destroys our intrinsic value as human beings by corrupting our ability to make rational choices and have free will Jungkook (Poetry) [3:03] immanuel kant said that

You didn’t realize you’d be hit with a philosophical lecture the moment you woke up, but then you remembered that Jungkook had gone smoking with Taehyung. The two of them got all philosophical when they were high, as if they really could achieve some kind of superior knowledge.

They were idiots.

“Oh my god, when the fuck did you get home last night?”

Anyone speaking that loud and harshly so early in the morning was an assailant. You glared at Courtney, brushing past her to get to the bathroom. You shouldn’t have been surprised that the girl stayed outside the bathroom door as she waited for you to finish.

“It was definitely after 1am ‘cause that’s when we went to bed,” she kept on talking even when you turned the shower on. “What could you guys have possibly been doing that whole time? Did you hook up?”

“No.”

“What?” Courtney strained to hear you over the sound of the high-pressure water.

“I said, no!”

It was ridiculous that you were standing there, rubbing your naked body down with lavender exfoliating soap, while you discussed your alleged hook up with a guy you barely knew.

You thanked the Lord Almighty that your schedule didn’t line up with your roommates on Wednesdays, or else you would have had to suffer Courtney and Amiriah’s interrogations the whole day.

Instead you sleepily dragged yourself through two morning classes and a work shift at the university library before you’d eventually have to face Jungkook head-on.

Your Advanced Poetry class was small enough that all the students could sit around a large table together. The small, intimate class size made it easier for collaboration and made workshops feel a bit less ruthless. You’d gotten to the point that you could read anonymous poems from each of your classmates and know exactly who wrote what. You were like a little family who met every Wednesday evening for two hours and poured your thoughts, dreams, fears, and goals into each other with every written piece. This class was going to be what broke your heart when the semester was over; you could already feel yourself missing it.

“Alright, y’all, we’re going to workshop the imitation poems from the exercise last week.”

You felt your heart drop to the pit of your stomach. Whatever else Professor Mendez was saying didn’t compute; she sounded like she was speaking underwater and all you could do was shift your eyes to look at Jungkook across the table from you. You hadn’t expected him to be already looking at you nor for him to hold your gaze until you quickly looked away.

The poem you’d written for the exercise was about Taehyung.

You’d thought only your professor was ever going to see it. And now she was calling on you to read yours aloud first. No one else would know who it was about, but you knew Jungkook would know.

“Y/N?”

Professor Mendez looked at you, her star pupil, with an encouraging smile. You swallowed, avoiding Jungkook’s gaze though you felt him staring. If you kept the piece of paper on the table in front of you, you wouldn’t risk showing everyone that your hands were slightly trembling. And then you opened your mouth.

I SAW YOU ONCE IN A FEVER DREAM (After Kaveh Akbar) I saw you once in a fever dream shirtless swaddling me in a hammock hanging from cedar trees When you smoke it gets stuck in your hair Save it for later The smell of marijuana and strawberry vapes lingered in my clothes In another fever dream you were my mother The doctor asked if I am allergic to any medications and I should have said yes but it is only you I have felt love flow through me I have never felt it given My friend once told me there is only so much you can do At what point am I the problem Sometimes I stare at the wall and peel the nails off of my fingers for every time you broke me Somehow it feels better this way

It was depressing, pathetic even. Sure, you’d imitated Kaveh Akbar’s unique writing style to a T, but now you looked stupid for writing about a man you’d never even dated, who had unofficially “dumped” you last spring semester. Jungkook had to know. Unless he was completely oblivious (which was honestly likely, when you really thought about it). And maybe you were being too cocky, assuming some guy who you meant nothing to would care or even pay attention to the fact that his friend had fucked you into a broken heart.

You sat with tight lips as the class discussed your poem, a few people put off by your use of space on the page, others praising your unique way of formatting the stanzas. Jungkook never spoke, but he never did until the end of class when Professor Mendez called him out for being silent. Then he would provide feedback for whoever had gone before him, his opinion usually directly contradicting whatever your professor said. She knew he wasn’t being defiant, and she welcomed his creative challenge of the status quo. But sometimes he was a bit much.

“Well, Mr. Jungkook. Let’s hear yours.”

You could feel the entire room both tense and lean forward, as if scared but also unimaginably eager for whatever it was they were about to receive.

“I didn’t finish, but I can read what I have. It’s a prose poem.”

UNTITLED I met her in the evaporated residue of a midnight bong rip. Among glimmers of artificially-simulated worlds, of over-saturated hues. Hurried hues of a purple-pink bruise, bloom, slippery between thighs. Tongue flicks. Slide. These things only happen behind closed doors. An eternity of almosts, she likes to wear my hand as a choker. Drag me whole into desire, into pink folds and broken promises. Drip slick slow stroke glide and move inside, eat feast thrive. Beat it up every time. Pulsate. Pulsate. Own it. My hands on your hips. Blindfold over your eyes. Selfish fuck. I am a decomposing mind; her body whispers otherwise.

Jungkook could have written a poem about dog shit and the way he recited it would have been breathtaking. It didn’t matter that his lines were verging on pornographic for an academic setting; simply the way the alliteration flowed like honey from his mouth was enough to send shivers down anyone’s spine. The words came out like a gentle lullaby of filth, a smooth mantra, a promise of sin. It was no wonder the classroom fell silent. Even Professor Mendez stared at Jungkook with an unreadable expression on her face.

“Thank you, Jungkook,” she said after a moment.

He nodded politely and slouched into his seat again.

Professor Mendez looked around the room for the first volunteer to take a stab at critiquing Jungkook’s poem. Only a brave soul could manage, and you were determined to keep your mouth shut. You could already visualize the way your classmates were going to gossip about this once class was over. You wondered how long it would take for Courtney and Amiriah to find out.

“Who would like to go first?”

It appeared the class had very few critiques, likely because no one wanted to dive too deeply into the abstract and overtly-sexual writing that had been.

Professor Mendez went on a mini rant about the importance of knowing how to keep the flow of a prose poem that somehow derailed into a story about her new puppy. Perhaps someone had gotten her going to kill the last few minutes of class until it was 8pm and she was forced to let the group of you go into the night.

You always managed to be the last person leaving the classroom every Wednesday night. Usually it was due to your prolonged conversations with Professor Mendez, the two of you gushing over a new poetry collection or the latest episode of a TV show. Jungkook, on the other hand, was typically the first to leave. Likely to go find his little crew of delinquents to do drugs with or whatever else they got themselves into.

Except apparently not today.

As you waved a goodbye to Professor Mendez, you headed down the empty hallway fully aware of the second pair of shoes echoing in the silence along with yours. Your insides were still scrambled from the series of exceptionally unfortunate events that had involved Kim Taehyung in the past twenty-four hours. You had no desire to entertain Jungkook, especially not after him staring you down all of class. And reading that fucking poem.

“Are you really gonna ignore me?”

You squeezed the straps of your backpack and stopped in front of the door to leave the academic building. If you acted bothered it would make you more suspicious. And it would let Kim Taehyung continue to rule your mind. You were better than this…

So you turned around to face the doe-eyed boy and tried not to imagine his hand squeezing your throat.

“I’m not ignoring you.” You cocked your head to one side in feigned confusion. Jungkook met your look with a small pout.

“I’m sorry if I did something to upset you yesterday.”

So, he didn’t know. Either that, or he was lying. But didn’t Immanuel Kant say lying is bad? You did everything in your power not to scowl to yourself.

“I’m fine, Jungkook. I swear.” You let out an irritated sigh, casting a glance behind your shoulder as you heard thunder ripple through the air outside. You’d obviously forgotten to check the weather that morning, looking down at your t-shirt and shorts.

“Okay…” He eyed you skeptically, but he didn’t want to push you further and threaten pushing you away completely. “Can I walk with you?”

“Of course.” He lived literally across the hall from you. You could open your door and be face-to-face with his.

“Okay… Can I give you a hug?”

You rolled your eyes so far and deep inside your skull it was a surprise they didn’t detach and disappear somewhere. It wasn’t fair that you were taking out your frustrations on Jungkook simply because your ego was hurt. That self-awareness was what made you nod your head with your arms outstretched.

Jungkook enveloped you in his large frame, the side of your face pressed against his chest. One of his arms wrapped around your waist, and he held the back of your head in his free hand. There was something about Jungkook’s closeness that caught you off guard. Perhaps it was because this was the first time you’d ever hugged each other; you’d never been this physical with each other at all, actually. You weren’t much of the hugging type, anyway.

Jungkook’s warmth made you settle into his embrace for much longer than you’d expected. He felt soft, safe. Even the chemical smell of paint that had seeped into his hoodie was welcoming. Despite the rumbling of a heavy thunderstorm outside, you could still hear his heart beat beneath you. Something about that realization made you pull away from him suddenly. It was just too… close.

He stared at you with a wrinkled brow and the pout was slowly coming back, but he stayed silent. You couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Ready?”

With raised shoulders you braced yourself for the downpour.

By the time the two of you had sprinted across the courtyard, you were completely soaked. You felt your earlier frustrations melt with the water droplets gliding down your arms as you leaned against Jungkook’s equally-soaked body. He was nearly doubled over in laughter, shoulder pressed against the wall next to the front door of his dorm room.

“You look like a wet cat,” he teased.

“Oh yeah? Well you look like a wet dog.” Your poor hair was going to get embarrassingly frizzy if you didn’t take care of it immediately.

Jungkook flashed you an evil grin and violently shook his head, sending water spraying all over.

“Jungkook, stop!” you hollered, giving him a shove. “I feel so gross already.”

You twisted around to fish out your dorm key from your backpack, but your fingers scraped the bottom of the pocket. No key.

“Fuck,” you cursed, setting your backpack on the ground to search through more pockets. Giving up on that possibility, you checked the pockets of your shorts. Nothing.

Unlocking your phone, your thumb hovered over your roommate group text, unsure if you should interrupt Amiriah and Courtney. It was a little after 8pm… Both of your roommates would be in their weekly sorority meeting that usually lasted at least an hour, if not two.

“What’s wrong?”

“I… locked myself out.” What a fucking rookie mistake. What was this, freshman year? “I’m pretty sure I left my keys on the kitchen table.”

Now you were stranded in your hallway, cold and soaking wet. You could go downstairs to ask your RA to let you in, but she was a bitch.

“You’re a mess. Come on, I’ve got clothes for you.”

He didn’t give you the opportunity to protest; instead, he stepped inside his dorm without even so much as a look over his shoulder at you.

Apparently your desire to be warm and dry was stronger than your fear of entering the Dorm Room from Hell. You’d never been in Jungkook’s dorm before, mostly because you didn’t want to run into Taehyung.

The layout was the same as yours: full kitchen with adjacent living room, long hall with individual bedrooms that ended with a bathroom. The decorations practically screamed “guys who smoke weed” considering the giant marijuana leaf tapestry hanging in the living room and the multicolored string lights that hung on the ceiling casting a psychedelic glow throughout the dorm. An incense that smelled interestingly like the ocean was burning on the coffee table.

You were pretty sure burning incense wasn’t allowed on university property. Then again, neither was smoking weed in the parking lot, but Jungkook and his roommates did whatever they wanted.

“Are you just gonna stand there or…?”

Jungkook led the way down the hall, you trailing a bit behind him as you continued being nosy. As you passed the first bedroom, the door suddenly swung open, causing you to yelp when you were face-to-face with a rather grumpy looking man with shockingly green hair. The bleary look of his eyes told you he’d been asleep.

“Why the fuck are you wet?”

You did a double take, shocked at the roughness of the question from a stranger. Before you could answer, Jungkook was pulling you forward by the wrist.

“Hyung, I went to the grocery store today. There’s tangerines on the counter.”

The green-haired roommate grumbled a thank you and shot straight to the kitchen.

“Just ignore Yoongi,” Jungkook whispered, stopping in front of his bedroom. “He’s a fifth-year senior and probably ready to burn the entire university down.”

Jungkook’s bedroom was the exact opposite of what you’d expected. After seeing the chaos of his art studio, you’d thought his bedroom would be much of the same. Instead you were met with a simple, organized room. No clutter, no mess. Everything had its place, not an art supply in sight. Peaking over his shoulder, you saw even his dresser drawers were organized, each article of clothing neatly folded. That was likely why Jungkook was able to quickly pick out a t-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts to hand you.

“Oh, and this,” he tossed you a towel, as well. “You can use the bathroom. I’ll be in here.”

“Thank you,” you said with an appreciative nod.

The skin on your fingers had wrinkled up from the rain and you pressed them into the towel to find some relief. Who knew the feeling of wearing dry clothes would be so sweet? You took your time in the bathroom, rubbing down every inch of your body. Unfortunately, even your underwear and bra were soaked. If you put on dry clothes over them, the water would surely bleed into the fabric. So you opted for going commando, to your dismay. At least Jungkook’s t-shirt was baggy enough that your chest wasn’t on full display, and it wasn’t like anyone would know you weren’t wearing underwear.

You caught a look at yourself in the mirror and laughed at how ridiculous you looked. It was like you’d come out of a really bad hip-hop music video from the early 2000s, literally drowning in baggy clothes.

“Hey Jungkook… Do you have something I could put my clothes in?” You stood in the hallway in front of Jungkook’s bedroom, wet clothes in your hands. The door was closed and you were afraid of opening it if he was still changing.

“You look cute.”

You instinctively squeezed your bundle of clothes, turning your head to the side at the sound of that Mother. Fucking. Annoying. Ass. Voice.

Taehyung raised an eyebrow at you, probably utterly confused as to why you looked the way you did, standing there in his dorm. You were determined to give him absolutely nothing.

“So, you and Jungkook, huh?”

A small smirk twisted at the corners of his mouth. By the way he was standing with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, it was clear that he wasn’t planning on walking away.

“We just got back from class,” you said matter-of-factly.

You focused on a spot on the wall to the right of his head when you spoke; it made it easier to look at him without having to stare into his eyes. Even though you found absolutely nothing about your statement funny, Taehyung started laughing. It was a low chuckle that brought that stupid smirk out even more.

“Were you coming back from class at 2 o’clock this morning, too?”

His eyes glinted with something that made a shiver shoot down the length of your spine.

Luckily, Jungkook’s abrupt presence swinging the bedroom door open gave you and Taehyung someone else to focus on, and you could safely escape the fact that you didn’t have a witty comeback to shove in Taehyung’s face for teasing you about Jungkook. There was nothing there with Jungkook.

He just gave nice hugs. And you respected his creative mind. And he had great taste in music. And you felt a little bit bad for him because people didn’t seem to give him the chances he deserved. And, wow, he was standing in the doorway of his bedroom wearing form-fitting gray sweatpants that sat low on his hips and you could tell that they sat low because he was shirtless. And your eyes were skipping down the path that his happy trail was leading from his belly button down to the strings of his sweatpants that hung down just on top of where you could make out a slight bulge in the fabric.

“Y/N?”

You quickly tore your eyes from Jungkook’s crotch to look at his face, not missing the way Taehyung’s smirk was growing even wider. You opened your mouth, then looked down at your clothes, then back at Jungkook.

“She wants something to put her clothes in,” Taehyung admitted once it was clear you weren’t going to cooperate. “I’m going over to Natalie’s. Oh, and I dipped into your Trojan stash. Yoongi hyung didn’t have any and you have too many.”

He flashed Jungkook a grin and pushed himself from his leaning position on the wall.

“Have fun,” he offered over his shoulder as he walked away, heading to go fuck his girlfriend’s brains out.

You were going to throw up.

“What a fucking asshole,” you breathed through gritted teeth.

Rather than be surprised at your cursing, Jungkook gave you a sympathetic look as he took your wet clothes from you to put in a small duffle bag.

“I’m sorry…” he said after a moment, gesturing for you to step into his bedroom. He closed the door behind you and hopped onto his bed. Just as he’d done in the studio, he patted the space next to him to get you to sit with him.

“C’mere.”

“Jungkook, I don’t wanna bother you anymore. You’ve had to deal with me a lot the past 24 hours.”

“Do I look bothered?”

You gave the boy a tight shake of your head and clambered onto the bed beside him, careful to sit hunched over a bit so your chest wouldn’t be too obvious. For once, he no longer smelled like paint. Instead your senses were overwhelmed by the strong scent of his laundry detergent, something akin to the ocean breeze of the incense the roommates were burning in the living room. He leaned his back against the headboard, but he turned at an angle to look at you from the side.

“He told me about you two…”

You felt your body stiffen at his confession and Jungkook rushed to finish his thought.

“Not the details or anything. But just that you were hooking up.”

Great. This was perfect. Leave it to Taehyung to treat you like a secret yet blabber to his friends. You hadn’t even told any of your friends about Taehyung. To this day, Courtney and Amiriah had no idea. And could you even trust Jungkook when he said the details were spared? Didn’t boys love to talk about their sexual conquests?

“I’m sorry he’s such a fuckboy.”

“Oh, like you aren’t, too?”

“What?!”

Jungkook stared at you incredulously, shocked by your sudden aggression. But you couldn’t stop yourself. The anger you’d let fester in you from countless boys quite literally fucking you over was all spilling over the top. It was just unfortunate that Jungkook was there to bear the weight rather than Taehyung; but you didn’t think he was wholly innocent either. College boys were entitled and selfish. Even though Jungkook had never done anything to you, you’d seen how some girls followed after him like he was some kind of mystery meant to be solved. He never explicitly talked about his love life with you, but you only took that as a bad sign.

“Oh don’t act brand new, Jungkook. You literally make everything about sex. Literally all your poems are about eating pussy. You made that fucking painting of a naked women. And what the fuck is that?”

Your arm shot out to point at a painting hanging on his wall that looked vaguely like an abstract rendition of a vulva. It somehow felt like the icing on the fucked up cake.

“It’s called artistic appreciation!”

“You’re just as gross as Taehyung and all the other guys who just use women for their bodies and don’t give a fuck about how we feel or-”

“Stop it.” Jungkook’s voice hit you like ice. You dropped your arm down and whipped your head back around to look at him, lips falling open at the harshness of his tone.

“Don’t compare me to Tae. You don’t know what I’m like. You barely know me at all.”

“That’s not-”

“I said stop, okay?” he interjected again and the glare he sent you was enough to shut you up for good. Being scolded wasn’t exactly high on your list of favorite activities, especially not from someone you considered to be a friend. Your cheeks felt like they were on fire and you struggled to swallow down your words, shame creeping up your face in waves.

“I’ve spent the last four months in that poetry class watching you write about feeling broken and alone and misunderstood. And you know what I do? I invite you over to do homework ‘cause I know none of your other friends are studying English. And I asked you to go to Morgan Parker’s book reading with me ‘cause I knew you didn’t have anyone else to go with. And I invited you to my studio ‘cause you said you wish you were good at art and I wanted you to see that you could be good if you tried.”

At this point his cheeks had turned bright pink and his hands were bunched up into fists in his lap. As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t look away from the fire in his eyes.

“I’m not trying to make you feel like you owe me anything or to get some kind of recognition, okay? But just don’t fucking compare me to Tae when all I’ve ever tried to do is make you feel less alone. I like you, a lot. And I don’t even care that you’re not into me and you’re still caught up on him. I genuinely just want you to be happy.”

With his monologue over, Jungkook turned his head to stare down at his hands, leaving you to peer at his profile with your mouth hanging open.

It was the most you’d heard Jungkook speak, ever. It was also the most expressive you’ve ever seen him. Despite his passion for art, Jungkook was a very level person; he was collected even in the most stressful situations. To see him visibly shaking as he raised his voice was upsetting.

“Jungkook…” You reached out to touch his arm and your heart broke into a million pieces when he flinched.

“It’s whatever.”

But it wasn’t.

You felt like shrinking into the smallest version of yourself and disappearing. You’d spent so much time aching over the wounds Taehyung had left that you hadn’t considered what you might be missing out on, or how you might have been hurting someone else. Your head was lost in the dark cloud hanging over you; your heart couldn’t see anything in front of you. Blinded by your own pain, healing long overdue.

You were so fucking stupid.

“JK…” you started again. Lifting your hand, you brought your fingers to his chin and encouraged him to turn his head to look at you. “I’m so sorry. I really am. I just… It hurts? I don’t know what to do with the hurt.”

From Taehyung and every other reckless boy.

You let go of his face and waited, holding your breath until your lungs burned. Much to your disappointment, Jungkook maintained that cold stare, his eyes boring into yours so deeply that you felt like he was seeing something inside of you that even you didn’t know. You were afraid to look at him, shame making it difficult to hold your head up.

“Give it to me.”

“What?” It was your turn to cast your eyebrows down in confusion.

“Give me the hurt. You don’t have to hold onto it anymore. I can take it.” His large hand enveloped your own, thumb running figure 8s into your skin.

You tried to speak, but you couldn’t choke out even a whisper as his words repeated in your head. Give me the hurt. Your hands shivered beneath his and you looked away quickly, feeling that horrid prickling in the corner of your eyes. You were not going to lose it just because you were touch-starved and never once in your life had someone so soundly declared their desire to take on whatever pain it was that you were feeling. You liked to keep your pain a secret, only letting out emotions through your poetry. And even then, you wanted to separate yourself from it. Writing was like putting down your emotion, letting it exist outside of you, so you could live free from it. But that didn’t always happen the way you wanted it to.

You blinked quickly, losing focus on Jungkook’s face until you felt something hot slip down your cheek and you realized you were crying.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, embarrassment flooding your chest as you tried not to hiccup. What kind of emotional disaster were you? As Courtney would say, it wasn’t very girlboss of you.

“I can take it.”

This time the embers had gone out in his eyes. Instead, his irises were pleading with you. You tried to cover your face with your hands, but Jungkook held them down. He brushed your cheeks dry with his thumb, cradling your chin in his palm.

“You deserve better, okay?”

It was difficult to believe, but the soft gaze Jungkook held made you want to think maybe he was right. But how could it be possible for someone to want to carry your burden for you? He had no reason to.

“I’m good now,” you said after a moment, the tears dried and your breathing returning to normal. You wanted to give him an out, let him have the opportunity to feel like he’d done his part in case he didn’t really mean what he said. You refused to let yourself fall for anymore bullshit.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You don’t have to lie to me…”

There was that familiar line. You felt your eyes instinctually roll and you couldn’t stop the next snarky comment from slipping past your lips, using biting humor as a defense mechanism to cope.

“Okay, Immanuel Kant.”

Jungkook snorted, matching your eye roll, but he gave you a smile that reached his eyes. A classic Jungkook grin that had you giving a small smile in return and making your stomach flip like a fucking gymnast. It made you slowly float back down to reality and you remembered you were sitting in a shirtless Jungkook’s bed, his body leaned forward out of concern for you, his face mere inches from yours. Hand still cradling your chin.

“Jungkook…”

Your voice got caught in your throat with what little breathing you could manage. Then you watched his eyes drop to your lips as you whispered his name, and the melancholic look he gave you when his gaze returned to yours made you squeeze your eyes shut with guilt. He’d confessed his interest in you and you’d completely glossed over it. Not on purpose, but somehow you were making your feelings the priority once again. And now he looked at you like you were already gone.

“Yeah, Y/N?” You opened your eyes at his call.

“I…”

You wanted to tell him how you felt, you really did. But life had taught you that in relationships there was always someone who cared more, and that person always got hurt the most. You just couldn’t keep being that person.

Jungkook studied your face for what felt like an eternity. If he was expecting you to finish your sentence, he was certainly being patient. But it was the way his mouth turned downward into a small frown and his eyes traveled off somewhere behind you that told you he’d lost hope.

Until he was staring at you once again and his grip on your chin tightened so subtly you almost didn’t notice.

“Can I kiss you?”

His voice came out low and thick. The tone sent a shiver down your spine and made goosebumps rise along your forearms. You’d never heard his voice drop so deep before, nor had you seen his eyes darken the way they had now. A spark of desire fluttered in your stomach and you felt nearly lightheaded from the way your body was hitting a peak level of anxiety over his question. If you said yes, were you just giving into yet another boy who would ruin you? And you believed Jungkook could ruin you. He was an artist; they were always trouble.

But there was no denying the fact that your nervousness was merely a physical response to your interest in Jungkook that had grown exponentially over time. You were weak, and he was right. You did feel broken and alone and misunderstood. And you knew that sometimes Jungkook felt that way, too.

Just when Jungkook began to pull away with a look of rejection written across his face, you nodded. Unable to speak, you watched Jungkook’s tongue swipe across his bottom lip as he leaned in even closer.

You were prepared for something much more lewd than what Jungkook gave you. Though your lips were parted, he didn’t invade your space. Instead of tongue and lip biting, you were met with a chaste kiss. His lips were soft and gentle, and the way his hand cupped your face made you feel secure, just as you’d felt when he hugged you. You’d never felt a sense of security with someone from a simple kiss.

And then he was ending the kiss just as quickly as he’d started it, finally dropping his hand from your face.

“Sorry,” he sighed, no longer meeting your eyes when he spoke. “I shouldn’t have asked. I don’t want you to feel like you had to agree to that…”

It was your turn to shut him up. Maybe it was the remaining hormones swirling in your brain from having cried so much, or the adrenaline from being kissed by a man you’d tried to shoo out of your mind, but you felt bold enough to take his chin in your hand as he had done to you. You pressed your lips against his, this time forcing his mouth into a faster, deeper rhythm. The kiss was heavy and more desperate than the first. It was what you’d initially expected Jungkook to give you; a makeout that went hard and fast from the beginning, 0 to 100. That was what fuckboys did, wasn’t it? Anything to get their dick wet the quickest.

It was what you were used to.

Your small hands found the tops of his shoulders, fingers running along his smooth, warm skin before you pushed him against the headboard. Swinging your leg over his, your knees sank into the soft bed as you straddled him. You adjusted slightly in his lap and the shift made your core press directly on top of the bulge in his pants that you’d admired earlier. This realization made the sudden heat between your legs melt like lava, and you ground your hips into his in a smooth but firm motion.

The movement elicited a deep groan from the back of Jungkook’s throat, another sweet sound you’d never had the pleasure of hearing fall from his lips. With his lips parted from groaning, you took the opportunity to slip your tongue inside of his mouth. His hands pushed up the hem of your shirt just enough to allow him to reach the skin of your waist, gripping you hard as your body moved against his.

“Y/N, wait.”

Jungkook pulled back to lean his head against the bed’s headboard and you were met not with lust-filled eyes as you expected, but eyes that looked so deeply pained you almost wanted to avert your gaze.

“I don’t wanna be a rebound. I want this to mean something, or else I can’t do this.”

Jungkook’s voice came out hoarse, and it trembled. His eyes still held that undeniable sadness that reminded you that, once again, you had failed to see how your own fear of rejection had made you ignorant to the feelings you were instilling in him. Here he was, willing to give himself over to you, holding back because he was afraid that you would hurt him.

Once again, shame flooded your face as you frantically searched for a way to show that you needed this to mean something, that in just a few months he had become the most constant person in your life, the person you were most comfortable with even when all you often did was just sit and talk about life.

There was an obvious way to fix this, but you still had that gnawing feeling holding you back.

“I like you, too, Jungkook.” Squeezing your eyes shut, you spoke just barely above a whisper. If you didn’t look at him, the vulnerability of the moment would be easier to manage. “You’re kind and smart even though you’re always toeing the line of academic probation.”

Your words came out rushed, the last comment making you let out a laugh that sounded more like a short burst of air, and you held onto his shoulders for dear life.

“And you’re the most creative and imaginative person I’ve ever met, but you’re so lowkey about everything. You deserve more than you give yourself credit for,” you continued, eyes still closed. “And… I guess you’re kinda hot…”

With that you slowly opened one eye to peek at Jungkook’s face. It was embarrassing to say that the grin he wore made your heart soar and it was only then that you noticed the way his fingertips were running along your sides, tracing invisible designs onto your skin.

“Only kinda hot?”

“Oh shut up.”

You gave him a playful slap against his chest. You let your hand linger there, palm pressed against him to feel the strength of his pec muscle. With your bottom lip pulled between your teeth, you ran your hand down the length of Jungkook’s chest and along his abdomen until you reached between your bodies to access the hem of his sweatpants.

Without warning you gripped his cock, palming it over his pants. You felt it twitch beneath your fingers, already semi-hard and warm even through the fabric. Jungkook let out a low groan, hips slightly bucking into you. Suddenly aware of how painfully clothed you are, Jungkook slid his hands back up your sides, pushing his t-shirt off of you in the process. Ruining the orderly look of his bedroom, he tossed the t-shirt and brought his attention back to you.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he hissed, realizing that you weren’t wearing a bra.

You shuddered at the gentle way he ran his fingers up your sides once more and you leaned forward when his tattooed fingers lightly pinched one of your nipples until it went hard. Then he moved onto the other one, tweaking it slowly.

After a moment you let go of him and reached for the hem of his sweatpants, waiting for him to lift his body so you could pull them down his legs.

He’s big, bigger than you’d expected. You’d imagined he would have a nice dick, purely because it seemed like the most mysterious, standoffish guys always did. They didn’t have to compensate by being boisterous and arrogant; they knew what they were packing and that was enough. But Jungkook was quite possibly too much. You were a small person, for fuck’s sake.

“We don’t have to do this. If you’re not ready, we can stop.”

There was Jungkook reading your mind, yet again. How was it possible for him to know exactly what to say every single time? Were you just that expressive? If so, no one else in your life read you so well.

“Stop talking,” you repeated his earlier command, but you didn’t look him in the eyes. Instead you were focused on how heavy and soft his cock felt in your hand as you admired him. You ran your fingers along the prominent vein on the underside of his cock, then you glided your thumb along the tip to smear the bit of precum that was already leaking. The action made Jungkook whimper and the sound sent a jolt straight into your core.

But just before you could lower your head down to give him what you knew he wanted, Jungkook’s hand was cupping your chin once again. He pulled your face upwards to guide you back to his.

“I’m fine, Jungkook. I want to do this,” you assured him, but he slowly shook his head.

“You’re going in so fast, and you don’t have to. I’m not some asshole hookup. The point of all this isn’t just to get me off and make you put in all the work.” He leaned forward to kiss you on the tip of your nose and you’d never felt more wanted in your entire life. “You deserve to feel good for once.”

Snaking his arm around your waist, Jungkook gently flipped you onto your back. Spreading your legs apart with his knees, he kneeled over you as he began laying hot kisses down the length of your neck, pausing only to suck at the soft skin where your neck and collarbone met.

“Jungkook…” you sighed, squirming underneath him once his mouth began to travel further down.

He flicked his tongue against one of your nipples, drawing a circle around the erect mound. He let out a deep hiss of approval when you moaned, arching your back to push yourself against his mouth. While his tongue was busy exploring your chest, Jungkook took his sweet time pulling his basketball shorts off of you, those too flying across the room.

When he moved back into a comfortable position between your legs, his thigh brushed against your core and he let out a moan loud enough you were sure his roommates would hear him.

“Fuck, Y/N, you could’ve warned me you weren’t wearing any underwear,” he groaned, his thigh now glistening with your arousal.

“Sorry I didn’t think to tell you while I was crying.”

“So dramatic.”

You covered your face with your hands in embarrassment that bore even deeper into your soul when a pathetic whimper escaped your lips the moment you felt Jungkook’s hand slip in between your thighs.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he sighed, effortlessly sliding his fingers along your folds. He ran his fingers up and down slowly as if he were memorizing each crevice and the way your legs jumped when he hit a certain spot, especially once he began stroking your clit.

He was exploring, you realized. He was learning your body and there was nothing more embarrassing. All you could think about was the fear that Jungkook might not like what he saw. Or that he was comparing you to his past fucks. Or that Taehyung had told him things about your sex life.

“Why are you hiding from me?”

You felt your hands being pried from your face and lifted over your head. Jungkook pinned your wrists above you, his face now inches from yours. You could see a restrained wildness in his eyes, but his eyebrows were knitted together in frustration.

“Why?” he repeated.

You shook your head, but another irritated call of your name made you question your decision to defy him.

“I just don’t want you to be disappointed…” you whispered, avoiding his gaze.

“Does this seem like disappointment to you?” Jungkook rolled his hips into you, his now rock hard cock sliding against your dripping folds.

“Ahh, n-no,” you gasped, wiggling under his hold.

“Okay, so don’t hide from me. Let me take care of you.”

Letting go of your wrists, Jungkook got off of the bed. You watched him with confusion that slowly melted into a mixture of anxiety and sweet anticipation as he hooked his arms around your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the bed. Falling to his knees, Jungkook let your legs rest on his broad shoulders. You could feel his breath against your skin and it took everything in your power not to begin squirming again when you felt his tongue lick a hot stripe up the inside of your thigh.

“I want you to watch me while I eat you out,” Jungkook murmured, his dark eyes locking with yours as he leaned forward to plant a kiss against your lower lips. “Okay?”

You had no choice but to nod in compliance, propping yourself up on your forearms so you could get a better view even though everything in you was screaming to break your gaze. You could hardly believe it was Jungkook staring at you through his bangs from between your legs. Not to mention you were usually very shy when it came to being sexually pleasured - mostly because it rarely happened. Guys were always expecting you to do them favors, not the other way around. You couldn’t even remember the last time a guy had gone down on you.

But there was no time to be shy when Jungkook abruptly plunged his tongue into your folds. You let out a loud yelp and immediately slapped your hand over your mouth to muffle the remaining squeals threatening to slip from your parted lips. Jungkook chuckled at your response and the vibration made your cunt throb.

Still, you kept your gaze locked with his as he lapped up your juices, no matter how dirty it made you feel to have those blown out pupils bore into yours. Your eyes only fluttered when his lips found your clit and began to suck on it while his tongue flicked a steady rhythm against it, the two sensations proving to be almost too much for you to handle. Your breathing became ragged as you felt your abdomen tense up.

“Jungkook,” you whispered a moan, hands gripping the bed sheets so tightly your fingers started to hurt.

“Hmm, baby? You’re gonna have to speak up.” The new nickname made you whimper.

As if to encourage you to find your voice, Jungkook slid two fingers inside of you as he returned to pleasuring your clit. The sudden stretch immediately ripped a strangled moan out of you and your hips involuntarily bucked into Jungkook’s face.

“I’m sorry,” you quickly apologized, but Jungkook only fucked into you harder, expertly curling his fingers at just the right spot to make your legs start to shake.

“Don’t apologize. You can fuck my face all you want,” he lifted his head up to lick his lips, sending you a wink that made your heart stop.

He could sense your orgasm coming soon by the way your walls were clenching around his fingers, but he was determined to make it as mind-shattering as possible. Fitting a third finger inside of you, he continued to suck on your clit, tongue swirling to the rhythm of his fingers.

“Ohh, oh my god,” you sobbed, tears pooling in your eyes as you finally reached your climax. You let out a loud cry, fingers tangled in Jungkook’s hair as you struggled to still your shaking legs.

Licking a final stripe up your lips, Jungkook lifted his head from your thighs and gave you a satisfied grin. He was truly a sight for sore eyes with his mouth soaked in your arousal and his hair a mess from your fingers running through it. You fell flat on your back, legs dangling off the edge of the bed.

“You good?”

“I’m going to die.”

Your eyes were on the ceiling but you heard him laugh and you felt his strong arms lift your legs back onto the bed, adjusting you so you were comfortably in the center of the mattress again.

“Damn, I didn’t realize I was gonna make you tap out so fast,” he teased, lying down beside you. He pressed a kiss against your throat.

“Everyone says you have great head game and I should’ve taken them more seriously.”

“Who says that?!”

You turned onto your side to face him, already rolling your eyes. “Don’t you know the rumors that get spread about you?”

Jungkook gave you a small shake of his head. “I don’t worry about people. I’m only worried about you.”

The warm fuzzy feelings his words gave you were too much for you to bear, so you pushed them away by pulling him closer, crashing your lips into his. Jungkook wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you flush up against his chest. You could feel his cock still hard against your leg and it reminded you that this whole situation felt so foreign to you. Never had you been pleasured by a man who expected nothing in return.

“You are art, you know that? A fucking masterpiece,” Jungkook sighed against your lips, pulling away to nuzzle against your neck.

“Jungkook.”

“Yes, baby?” There was that fucking nickname again making your pussy flutter back to life.

Instead of answering him, you reached down to grab his cock. He groaned against your throat as you gave him a few slow pumps. He’d taken care of you just as he’d promised, and now you hoped he’d let you take care of him. Not because you felt obligated to, but because you genuinely wanted to.

Wordlessly, Jungkook rolled you onto your back so that he was hovering over you, his forearms on either side of your head.

“I want you so bad,” he growled against your ear, hips rolling into your open legs.

“What are you waiting for?” you whispered.

“Fuck…”

You blinked and he was no longer on top of you. Instead he was rummaging through the drawer of his nightstand, eventually pulling out a shiny square packet. For someone normally so calm, Jungkook’s fingers were shaking with need as he rolled the condom on.

“Is this okay?” He returned to his position between your legs as you laid on your back. Your heart stung at his thoughtfulness, shocked that he was asking you what position you wanted him in. You nodded, spreading your legs wider for him. Jungkook ran his fingers along the inside of your thighs, his head dipped down so his bangs fell forward, partially obstructing your view of his face.

You gasped when you felt something wet hit your cunt. He’d spit on you. You could feel the extra lubrication slide down your folds and the lewd act made you shiver. Sure, maybe that was fairly tame for some people, but it had your head reeling.

Holding the base of his cock, Jungkook rubbed the tip along your folds, further smearing his spit and your arousal together.

“If you want to stop, just tell me,” he said hoarsely, and that was the warning you got before he was sinking his cock into your entrance.

Despite how relaxed and turned on you felt, the stretch was considerable. You tensed for a moment and Jungkook froze, his eyes meeting yours. With a nod of approval from you, he pushed himself in further, finally bottoming out and holding the position as he waited for you to adjust. You felt so unbelievably full with him inside of you and the pressure of him against your walls was enough to make your legs shake once again.

After giving you a bit of time, Jungkook began to move his hips, starting with slow but long strokes that got increasingly deeper.

“Oh god,” he moaned, head hanging down so he could watch his cock disappear into your cunt over and over again. After a while he lifted one of your legs to rest it on his shoulder so he could adjust his angle to thrust into you that much deeper, and the next slam of his body into yours that had his cock make direct contact with your g-spot made you scream.

“Shit, Y/N, Yoongi’s gonna kill us if you keep screaming like that,” Jungkook said with a grin that very much made it seem like he wouldn’t mind dying for such an offense.

“You… just feel s-so g-good,” you cried out, your nails clawing at Jungkook’s arms as you searched for something to hold on to.

He couldn’t possibly have been concerned considering he only thrusted into you even harder. The thing about Jungkook, though, was that he was going hard but he was going slow. He was savoring every time he slid into you, savoring the glisten of his cock as he pulled out. Turning his head to the side, he kissed the leg he’d draped over his shoulder, one hand running down the smooth skin while his other held on tightly to your hip to keep you in place.

“Fuck, yes baby,” Jungkook groaned. He pressed his fingers against your mouth, gently prying your lips open to stick his thumb in your mouth. The action surprised you, but you obediently sucked on his thumb until he was pulling away again. Reaching between you, he pressed his now wet thumb against your clit and began rubbing circles as he fucked you.

You whined at the sudden stimulation, your walls fluttering around his cock as your breathing turned into panting. “I’m gonna…” you let out another moan, your walls clenching around Jungkook’s cock. “I’m gonna come again.”

“That’s right, come on my cock for me, baby. Let go for me.”

How could Jungkook make dirty talk sound so alluring? So supportive? It was just like his writing, a gentle lullaby of filth. From the look he’d given you earlier, you knew there was a less tame side of him you’d yet to tap into. The memory of his poem flooded your mind, daring you to take things a step further… she likes to wear my hand as a choker…

Reaching out, you grabbed the hand that was holding onto your hip and brought it to rest on your neck. You saw that same wild look flash in Jungkook’s eyes once again, and you knew the action had affected him because his thrusting faltered for a moment. With your lips slightly parted, you tilted your head back slightly to expose more of your throat for him. Jungkook wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a sight more beautiful.

“Shit, you keep acting up like this I’m gonna fall in love,” he grunted, biting down hard on his bottom lip as he opened up his palm to get a firm grip on your neck. As he resumed his rhythmic thrusting, he squeezed your throat. At first, the decrease in oxygen had you gasping in your body’s natural drive for self-preservation. Once your body and mind adjusted, though, you succumbed to the way your body tingled with excitement. When you moaned, your eyes fluttering and rolling back, Jungkook applied even more pressure.

You’d never imagined you’d have another orgasm somewhere inside of you so soon after the first, but you were convulsing around Jungkook’s cock just as he asked you to, calling out his name in the sweetest song.

It wasn’t long before his thrusts became sloppier and his grip on your throat became almost too tight. The string of profanity he growled in your ear as he came made you shiver. Was it really possible that you affected him so deeply?

Jungkook hovered over you for a moment, attempting to catch his breath.

“I think that’s the hardest I ever came in my life,” he said weakly, finally mustering up enough strength to pull himself out of you. He left the bed to throw away the soiled condom, you musing at his cute little butt as he sauntered away.

“You’re welcome,” you said with a grin, though the hoarseness of your voice startled you. You pressed your hand against your throat and winced, not because your throat hurt, but because of the way Jungkook looked at you with deep concern.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked softly, climbing into bed beside you.

“Please,” you sighed, snuggling against Jungkook’s chest. “You did me too good.”

“I’ll fucking do you again, too, if you don’t stop rubbing your thighs against me,” he murmured in your ear, causing you to chuckle lightly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

A loud knock on the door made you jump, your arm instinctually covering your chest though you knew Jungkook had locked the door.

“What the fuck,” he whispered, silently willing whoever it was to go away.

The knocking continued, this time a bit more aggressively.

“Open up, bro, the light’s on. I know you’re in there,” Taehyung complained from the other side of the door. “You’ve still got my pen.”

Your eyes grew wide as you looked at Jungkook.

With a groan, Jungkook got out of bed once again. Grabbing the basketball shorts you’d been wearing, he pulled them on and snagged Taehyung’s vape pen from where it sat atop his dresser. He didn’t bother to put a shirt on or fix his sex hair.

“Wait,” you whispered. “What about me?”

“I don’t give a fuck,” Jungkook spoke at a normal volume as if to demonstrate how serious he was about not caring if Taehyung saw you there.

“Seriously, JK?” Taehyung clearly thought Jungkook’s comment had been directed towards him.

You quickly grabbed Jungkook’s t-shirt and pulled it on seconds before Jungkook swung the bedroom door open.

You watched Taehyung’s eyes slowly scan over Jungkook’s appearance. His mouth twisted as though he were about to speak, but then he locked eyes with you where you still sat in Jungkook’s bed, probably looking just as fucked out as Jungkook did.

“Here.” Jungkook dropped the vape in Taehyung’s open palm. “Need anything else?”

Taehyung’s eyes made their way back to Jungkook and whatever snarky comment he’d been prepared to make before was now gone.

“Nah, that’s it, thanks.”

After a week of being exclusive with Jungkook, you felt the need to loop your roomates into the whole situation. Courtney and Amiriah were your best friends, after all. The three of you had been your own Golden Trio since day one freshman year, ending up in the same peer mentor group. The first time you’d all hung out together you’d gone to an off-campus frat party. Barely an hour in and Courtney had been throwing her guts up right into the pool. Needless to say, the three of you had never gone back to that house. As horrifying as it was, you felt like it painted the perfect picture of your relationship. You were all in it for the long haul, no matter how messy.

But now you had to tell them you were dating the weird guy.

You kept looking at your phone, checking the time. The two should have been out of their sorority meeting by now, which meant they could arrive at your dorm at any moment. Waiting was nerve-racking. You gnawed on a hangnail, only pulling your gaze from your phone when you felt Jungkook’s strong arms wrap around your waist. He pulled you into his lap on the couch and leaned into you, lightly brushing his lips along your neck, making you shiver.

“Why do you act like you’re having me meet your parents?” he asked with a small chuckle.

“Courtney and Amiriah are important to me,” you started, trying to find the correct words to explain your friends. “They’re also really… judgmental, but because they care about me. And they don’t trust men.” Which was fair. You did your best to look out for them as well.

Jungkook hummed in response but didn’t speak. That didn’t surprise you. A man of few words, you knew he liked to have time to decide how he felt or what he wanted to say about things.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” you announced, standing up. Jungkook nodded and leaned back into the couch. Was it a good thing that he didn’t seem nervous?

Of course the moment you entered the bathroom, Courtney and Amiriah came bustling through the front door. Their loud chatter quickly halted when their eyes fell upon Jungkook lounging on your couch, legs spread and tattooed arm draped across the back of the couch.

“Hey,” he greeted them with a grin and a nod of his head.

“Oh, um, hi?” Courtney’s greeting was more of a question.

“Where’s Y/N?” What Amiriah wanted to ask was how he even got into your dorm, but she didn’t want to be rude.

“I’m here!” You shuffled into the room, giving your friends a little wave. “Jungkook wanted to hang out here for a change.”

The boy quirked his eyebrow at you and gave you an amused smile, noticing how you’d made it sound like it was his idea when it most certainly had been yours. Not that it bothered him. If anything, he wanted you to deflect onto him. He’d told you he could take anything you needed to give him, and he’d meant it.

Jungkook got up from his seat and walked over to the three of you, hands in the front pockets of his jeans. The pose made his biceps and chest more prominent, and you couldn’t help but stare for a moment. God, he was too pretty.

“I feel bad it’s the first time I’m finally meeting you,” he said in a warm voice. “Y/N never shuts up about how great you two are. Pretty sure I’ve heard the story of The Great Edible Debacle at the Dolph concert about fifty times.”

You were shocked by how charming he was being. Really laying it on thick.

“That is a horrible story to be telling people, Y/N! What the fuck,” Amiriah said with a laugh. “We’re only a little bit insane.”

“And stupid,” Courtney chimed in.

The four of you continued your bantering as you lounged around the living room, snacking on some food your roommates had brought as leftovers from their sorority meeting. Jungkook fit into the conversation rather neatly, talking a lot more than you’d expected, but still knowing when to sit back and let the girls dominate the conversation. He sat with his arm around your waist, keeping you close but not dipping into any PDA, knowing it would bother you if he did.

The conversation came to a pause when Jungkook’s phone began to ring, all three pairs of eyes pointed in his direction.

“Ah, fuck. Tae’s calling me,” he mumbled. “I’ll be right back.” As he stood up, he cupped your face for a moment, running his thumb across your cheek before he was bringing his phone to his ear.

“Hyungie, what’s up?” Jungkook stepped out into the hallway, closing the front door behind him.

“Girl, are y’all fucking?!” Amiriah leaned forward with a harsh whisper, excitement dancing in her bright eyes.

“We’re dating, actually.”

Courtney let out a squeal, bouncing on her knees where she sat on a pillow on the floor, wrapped in a fluffy blanket. “I knew it, I totally knew it.”

“I’m gonna admit, weird or not, that man is foine now that I’m seeing him up close.” Amiriah loudly sucked her teeth and shook her head. “He’s got that snatched little waist. And those thighs? He could smash a watermelon.”

“Okay, okay, but we gotta ask the REAL question here.” Courtney was now plopping down on the couch between you and Amiriah, blanket still in tow. “Did he eat it right?? In the words of Nicki Minaj, do he got good form??”

You slapped Courtney on the arm in protest, but you were grinning as you spoke. “I almost started crying, it was so good.”

“WHEW girl, stop it,” Amiriah grabbed your arm and shook it. “Are you willing to share? For charity?”

Before you could scold your friend for trying to get her hands on your man, Jungkook returned. The shift in the room’s atmosphere was palpable, and the way Courtney and Amiriah watched Jungkook with new interest was almost too obvious.

He gave you a confused smile as he squeezed onto the couch next to you.

“So, Jungkook,” Amiriah began and you prayed to God she wouldn’t say anything stupid. “You said you heard stories about us, but we didn’t talk about all the fun things we’ve heard about you!”

You shot your friend a glare but she was already on a roll with Courtney on her heels.

“Yeah, we’ve heard all about your poetry,” Courtney added.

You don’t think your roommates were prepared for the low chuckle that rumbled from Jungkook nor for the dark look in his eyes as he turned to you. He grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers, and you silently pleaded with him to behave.

“Yeah, I was trying to give Y/N a preview of what she could be getting.”

“Jungkook,” you gasped and your friends started talking all at once, but all you could focus on was the way your boyfriend was smirking at you, his tongue playing with his lip ring how he knew you liked.

He leaned into you, his lips ghosting your ear and sending goosebumps up your arms as he whispered,

“Just wait until you come over tonight.”

Living with Jungkook meant living with the constant smell of paint. Sure, you only just moved in together less than a week ago, but that was certainly long enough to know. And you were already finding little splatters on the floor and in the kitchen sink.

Living with Jungkook also meant that you were required to use the word magnets on the refrigerator to write him a poem every morning, just like he was going to write one for you. This was established as a house rule while the two of you discussed whether it would be a good idea to live together.

You thought the rules were going to be about who does the laundry, but you had to remember, this was Jungkook.

You tiptoed around the cardboard boxes full of all the stuff you two moved in with, but had yet to unpack. The hardwood floors glistened in the afternoon sunlight streaming through the flimsy blinds. Specks of dust glittered the air.

Jungkook was laying out a tarp in the entranceway of the apartment. An array of paint cans were placed around the tarp to hold it down.

“JK, what are you doing?” you inquired with your hands on your hips.

“Painting,” he said with a simple smile before turning back to his work. It was then that you noticed a large tray with fresh paint, and a variety of brushes sticking out of Jungkook’s pockets.

“Here? This wall is the first thing people see when they walk in,” you pointed out. Leave it to Jungkook to start on a project before he’d even unpacked all his underwear.

“That’s the point.” He didn’t look at you as he spoke, instead focused on mixing the color he wanted.

You let out a small sigh. This man…

“What are you going to do? Please, I beg of you, please do not paint genitalia of any kind.” It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy your boyfriend’s artwork. You were obsessed with his creativity, actually. It was part of what made you fall for him. But there was no denying that he was… unconventional in his taste.

Jungkook let out a chuckle, his nose scrunched up and his cute front teeth exposed. It was the laugh that meant he thought you were being ridiculous.

“It’s gonna be something even better.”

That was not reassuring at all.

“Jungkook, my parents are coming to visit in a week!”

Setting his brush down in silence, Jungkook extended his arm to hook a tattooed finger through the belt loop of your shorts. You begrudgingly let him pull you forward until you were pressed against his chest. Your arms circled his tiny waist and you forgot you were supposed to be annoyed with him when he started caressing your head, careful not to mess up your hair.

“I’m gonna paint a mural of my muse,” he said in the wispy tone his voice took on when he was thinking through his plans. “That’s you, in case you didn’t know.”

You lifted your head to look up at him, your chin resting on his chest. “No.”

“What?!”

“You are not putting up some kind of shrine for me in the middle of the apartment.”

“Why can’t I let everyone know that I worship you?” Jungkook whined, letting go of you. You weren’t prepared to be set free, though, and you stumbled backwards. With wide eyes, Jungkook grabbed a handful of your shirt to stop you from falling, but it was too late. Your foot stepped directly into one of his open paint cans.

“JUNGKOOK!” you shrieked, lifting up your foot to see gloopy red paint drip from your toes.

Jungkook’s cheeks grew puffy as he tried to hold in his laughter while he searched for his towels. It was a failed attempt, though, and you were glowering even harder as you watched the laugh come bursting from inside him.

“I’m-,” Jungkook wheezed, holding out a paint-stained towel for you. He was laughing so hard his hand shook. “I’m s-sorry, baby, I-”

He abruptly shut up when he felt your hand swipe his cheek and a thick liquid rolled down his neck.

“That’s what you get for laughing at me!” you said with a wicked grin, admiring how you’d smeared paint all over the side of his face.

Your grin slowly fell as you watched Jungkook lean down to drag his fingers through his tray of baby blue paint.

“Don’t you dare,” you warned, pointing your finger at him.

“What? I’m not doing anything.” Jungkook gave you the sweetest smile and reached for your legs. You felt his wet hands slide down your bare thighs and you shrieked again as he threw you over his shoulder.

“Put me down! Kookie, you’re going to get paint all over the floor.” You gently beat his back with your fists, but your laughter made your actions less convincing.

“Me? You’re the one ruining my painting area.” He tried brushing his bangs out of his eyes, but ended up smearing paint across his forehead and into his hair. “Now I have to clean my baby up.”

You could hear the pout in his voice as he carried you down the hallway to the bathroom, dripping red and blue paint. The two of you were certainly going to leave your mark on this place.

@rkiveslibrary @mar-lo-pap

#bts fanfic #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #bts fluff #bts smut #bts angst #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #gimmethatagustd #paint me naked #pmn

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sinner-as-saint · 3 months ago

Text

You take the dark and carve me out a home

Bucky Barnes x New Avenger!Reader

Summary: Unwinding after a tough mission is not exactly easy. Especially not when you’re part of a group that is always, constantly under scrutiny. Which is why you were always extra hard on yourself whenever you felt like you made a mistake or let the team down in any way. Bucky was aware of this, he was aware of everything regarding you, and usually he gave you your space and within a day or two you’d get back to normal. But this time was different, he noticed. It had been a couple of days since your last mission and you were still in that weird, distant headspace. And Bucky needed you back, the whole team needed you back, but him more because… well, because he cared about you a lot more than he let on.

Themes: soft!dom!bucky, praise kink, angst, hurt/comfort, friends-to-lovers, fluff

“Where is she?”

Bucky demanded, walking in, looking around, and noticing immediately that you weren’t at the dinner table. The rest of the team looked like they’d just been done eating. Alexei was almost falling asleep in his seat already.

“I thought she was with you?” Ava squinted at Bucky.

Yelena added, “Don’t you two always work out together every night?”

Bucky frowned. “I know, I…” He paused to think. “I left the gym hours ago. She said she was gonna finish up and come find you guys.” He rolled his eyes at the realisation, “So she’s been in there alone for the past couple of hours and no one checked on her.”

“I did.” Bob said, always with that lost puppy dog look in his eyes. “I went to the gym earlier to get a workout in. But she glared at me, so I just kinda left, like, really quickly.”

“Relax, man.” John spoke, adding to Bucky’s irritation. “She’s probably still working out to get her mind off things. You know how she gets.”

Bucky sighed and walked away, leaving the rest of them in the kitchen. Damn it. He could’ve checked up on you too. But after his work out he had some calls to attend to, and deal with some things on behalf of the team. He’d totally lost track of time. Also, he genuinely didn’t think you’d stay in the gym for hours. He knew you worked out each day, sometimes twice a day. But lately, he was getting more and more worried watching you put your body through pain hours at a time.

He took the elevator to the floor the gym was on and walked in to find you with your boxing gloves on, the punching bag swinging gently in front of you. Your head was lowered, your back to him but he still saw the way your shoulders moved as you breathed quickly. Your skin glistened with sweat, and Bucky just knew you weren’t having a good night.

Again.

He needed to do something about that.

“Have mercy on that poor punching bag.” He said, keeping his eyes on you as you turned to face him. He realised he would never get used to it, that intense look in your eyes whenever you got into moods like these. The look that made most people run away from you. But not him. Never him. “Let’s go. You’re tired.”

“I’m not.” You were quick to argue. Always quick to argue. Then you took your fighting stance again, facing him rather than the punching bag, your fists up in the air. Ready to spar. “Come on. And don’t be gentle with me.”

“No.” He declined politely. “You’ve been here for hours. You need to shower, eat, and get some sleep. I can’t have you walking around looking like that anymore.” He stepped closer, your dark red gloves almost touching his chest. “I know you think you messed up on our last mission. But you didn’t. We made it out alive, all of us. Stop punishing yourself for things you didn’t do.”

You lowered your fists. Looking defeated. Bucky always saw right through you. “But I put us at risk. I didn’t wait for the signal,” You stated. “I could’ve gotten us all killed.”

“But you didn’t.” He said firmly. “Besides, one mistake doesn’t take away from the fact that you’re one of the best out of all of us.” He sighed upon seeing how truly hard you could be on yourself. “Give yourself some grace.”

You hung your head again. Bucky wanted to hold you close and not let go until you felt better. And it killed him that he didn't know how to get you out of that dark, shadowy pit of guilt and disappointment. He reached out and touched your cheek, his fingers cupping your face. “What’s going on with you? Where are you?” He whispered, “Come back to us.”

Come back to me.

You gave him a faint smile. Bucky had always been your safe place. With his dreamy blue and often tired eyes, and his Disney prince, perfect hair, and his charming smile. He was definitely your go-to person. You loved the rest of the team, but Bucky was special. He somehow always got it. With him, you never had to explicitly explain everything, he always just understood what you meant. He spoke your language.

You two had always been closer to each other than to the others. And while the others constantly teased you about the tension between you two, you never acted on it, nor did either of you ever deny it. Sure, flirty comments here and there were a regular thing. And you both cared deeply for one another, but you never talked about it in a serious way. Having the other there was always just… comfortable.

Bucky managed to get you out of the gym and sent you to your floor. He took the stairs to the kitchen again and made you a plate, full of your favourite things, and took it to your room. The door was unlocked and he could still hear you in the shower. He didn’t want to disturb you so he placed the plate on your bed and left.

–

Hours later, Bucky still couldn’t sleep. He’d received a text from you, you thanked him for bringing you food and said you were off to bed. But something was keeping him restless. He didn’t know what it was. He simply couldn’t stay still.

He quickly checked the cameras and was relieved to see the gym was empty. Which meant that you were up in your room. Which was a good thing, but something in his gut was telling him to go check up on you. Bucky got up immediately as soon as the thought crossed his mind.

He made his way to your floor again, the entire building was quiet. It was well past midnight and he said he’d just check on you. Nothing else. He would knock on your door and if you didn’t answer immediately, he would go back up to his room.

But something told him you were still awake. And if you were awake you were probably overthinking yourself to death, drowning in guilt and disappointment. Bucky sighed, waiting for the elevator to stop on your floor. That look in your eyes earlier in the gym was haunting him. He missed the spark in you. The brightness. That empty look… he wanted it gone.

Bucky found himself rethinking his actions once he was at your bedroom door. There was still silence, even on the other side. But he knocked twice, he had to.

He waited, a little embarrassed because what the hell would he say he was here for? That is, if you were still up.

He was still wondering what he would actually say when you opened the door quickly, as if you were waiting for him to show up.

Bucky took one look at you and your face, tear-stained and lips trembling as you tried to keep it all in, and he pulled you into his arms immediately. Walking in and shutting the door behind him, Bucky kept his arms securely around you.

Your breaths were shaky. Your body trembling with your quiet sobs.

“Hey, I’m here.” Bucky whispered, his lips pressed against your forehead. “I’ve got you. It’s okay, it’s all gonna be okay. I’m here.”

And somehow, being in his arms made the darkness go away gradually. Bucky’s scent, his body heat, the feeling of his strong arms around you, hearing his steady heartbeat, it calmed you down instantly.

“Come here,” He walked over to your bed, sat down on the edge and pulled you down onto his lap. He had hugged you many times before, but this felt different. Intimate. But natural. It felt like you belonged there in his arms.

You straddled his thighs, limbs wrapped around him like he was the only thing left in the world. Like he was all you had. Your face hidden in the crook of his neck. His hands running up and down your back and sides while he kept mumbling reassuring words in your ear. You felt safe.

“I’m sorry.” You said.

And your voice was so quiet and weak that it broke his heart. “Don’t be.” He quickly said. “You didn’t do anything wrong. We all make mistakes, it’s okay.”

“I feel… inadequate.” You sniffled, pulling away to look him in the eyes. His ocean blue ones looked into your eyes with so much patience and warmth that it healed parts of you. “And empty,” You continued. “I feel like I’m not doing enough. Like I'm still not strong enough. Just not enough.”

“Hey,” He cupped your face in his hands. “Just ‘cause that’s what the voices are screaming at you, doesn’t mean it’s true. Okay? None of what you just said is true.” He said, sincerely. “None of it. You’re the strongest person I know. You’re fierce and kind. You boss most of us around, but you care so deeply and it shows.” His thumbs wiped your tears away. “You add so much to our team, don’t you see that? You’re one of the few people Bob is comfortable around. You and Ava make a deadly combo. You and Yelena keep everything in order. You and John work really well together when it comes to keeping us safe or protecting us during combat. You and Alexei, well, he loves you just as much as he loves Yelena.” Bucky listed, “And as for you and I, we’re simply the best duo there can be, aren’t we?” He sounded a little playful.

And it put a faint smile on your face. You sniffled, nodding slowly. “Just having a rough couple of days, I guess.”

It was more than just that, but Bucky only asked, “What do you need? And don’t say you need to box or spar, or anything. Clearly that’s not helping like it usually does.” He pointed out. “You wanna take a few days off and go somewhere to clear your head?”

You shook your head, whispering, “No. I like it here. It’s fine, I just… I don’t know.” You took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I can’t quite put it into words.”

“Try.” He said, “Take your time. I’m here, I’ll listen.”

You sighed again, unable to look him in the eyes as you spoke. “I just feel numb all the time. And it gets worse when I don’t do my job well. And now I’m struggling to just… feel something. I feel nothing all the time lately and I know it sounds like I’m whining about it but…” You took another deep breath, “It’s exhausting. It’s heavy. It’s not just numbness, it’s like I’m stagnant and I want to get out of… whatever this state is and I try, I try but something keeps dragging me down and keeping me in a chokehold right where it feels the heaviest. I wanna get out. Of my head, out of this weird headspace I’m in but nothing helps. Nothing works. I don’t know. I don’t know if that made sense, I’m just fucked up I guess.”

Chokehold. He knew that feeling all too well. “You’re not fucked up.” He said, “I know how it feels.”

“I know you do.” You finally met his eyes and the shadows disappeared gradually. “I don’t know what I would do without you, Buck.”

“What can I do to help?” He asked. It killed him to see you like this. You were here but also so distant. He wanted you back, for your own sake, but also because he missed having his best friend around.

“Make me feel something.” You said, softly like you were afraid someone else might hear. “Anything, please.”

“Oh, baby.” Something about the way you sounded so vulnerable, which was rare from you, made Bucky forget about everything else. He didn’t care, all he wanted to do was piece you back together. “I’ve got you.” He whispered, and leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, hands trailing down your body until he placed his hands on the curve of your ass and pulled you into him even more.

You gasped against his mouth, kissing him back slowly, melting into him. His metal hand came to rest on your exposed thigh, only then did you realise that in your PJ shorts really didn’t hide much. His cold fingers lazily grazed the crease between your hip and thigh, and it was all you could focus on in the moment, other than the heat of his mouth.

Bucky pulled away to whisper, “Just so you know, we can stop if you don’t want this,” before he kissed you hungrily again, his beard and his long, soft hair tickling your face. “We can go back to talking and we’ll pretend this never happened.”

“Please don’t stop.” You mumbled against his mouth. “I need this. I need you.”

“Okay,” He whispered, in between kisses, “I won’t stop, baby. I’ve got you,” He repeated. “Don’t worry, I’m right here. Okay?”

You pulled away from the kiss, teary eyed again. “I trust you, Buck.”

Bucky accepted the weight of that trust, he cupped your face and said softly, “I know, angel. I’m gonna take care of you. I promise.”

You could’ve sworn he used superhuman speed with how fast he flipped the two of you, tossing you down on your bed as he climbed on top of you. He carefully grabbed your hand and brought it up to his mouth, kissing your knuckles softly as he whispered, “I’ll be gentle.”

“Don’t be.” You pleaded, looking up at him. His hair framed his face in a perfectly messy way. His body was warm above you. Bucky was always warmer than most people, you figured it was a supersoldier thing. “I don’t want gentle.”

He nodded. “Okay, angel. Remember, we can stop whenever you want to. Alright?”

“Yes.”

Bucky held your stare as he rapidly undid the buttons of your satin PJ top, and immediately diving in to take a nipple into his mouth once the top was open. Sucking, and biting until your back arched off the bed.

“Bucky…” You gasped, and moaned as he alternated between each breast while his hand slipped down to pull your shorts and underwear down your legs until you kicked it off yourself.

He pulled away to look at you, sprawled on the bed under him. Then he leaned in to whisper against your lips, “You don’t want gentle, huh? Well, you’re gonna be a good girl and do exactly as I say, okay? I need you to stop thinking, to stop calculating, and analysing, just listen to me. My voice and that’s it.”

He knew what it was like – that feeling of wanting someone to just tell you what to do. It didn’t have to be sexual like right now, but just the loss of control in a safe, consensual way. With someone you trust blindly. He knew it could heal, partly at least. So he knew exactly what you needed right now.

He kissed you roughly, taking what he wanted from your open, willing mouth before pulling away to look down at you with a dangerous, gorgeous smile on his lips. “You’re all mine now. You hear me?” He whispered against your mouth. “You’re my perfect girl. And my perfect girl doesn’t put herself down. She doesn’t think she's not good enough. She doesn’t think she’s done a bad job. She doesn’t think she’s fucked up. Because she’s not. She’s my good fucking girl, and she’s perfect. You hear me? You’re perfect.”

You gasped as he lazily ran his metal fingers down your wet folds.

“Look at you, such a good girl. Lying here so perfectly with your legs spread, just letting me touch you however I want.” He stated, grabbing your face in his other hand as he slid two metal fingers inside you. His voice was steady, controlled, and firm as he said, “This is how it’s gonna be from now on, okay? Whenever you need to be reminded how good you are, you come find me.” He slid his fingers deeper, pulling them out slowly in a way that he knew drove you insane, judging by the sounds you made. “Whenever the voices get too loud, you come find me.” He did it again. “Whenever it gets too dark, you come find me.” He leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours. “I’ll fix it, baby. I always will. You don’t have to carry all that alone, I’ll help you. I’ve got you from now on, you get that? You’re not alone, I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

He had you coming all over his fingers in no time. He stroked you in all the right places and your body responded to each one of his lazy, deliberate strokes beautifully. You squirmed as he kept finger-fucking you through your orgasm.

“There’s my perfect girl,” He cooed, watching you squirm and whine under him. “You did so well,” He kissed your cheek, then the other, “You sound so perfect when you come.”

He pulled away for a brief moment, getting off of you and standing at the end of your bed, taking his t-shirt and sweatpants off but leaving his boxers, lowered just enough to free his erected cock.

He stood there, wrapped his hand around his cock and stroked it twice while he held your stare. “It’s all for you, angel. All for you and no one else.” He said, watching with a slight smirk as you looked down at his cock and bit your lower lip. “Are you gonna be my good girl and take it?”

You nodded quickly, “Yes.” Not even realising that all the prior shadowy thoughts had completely left your head. This was all you could focus on – him. Bucky. With his perfect body, and his beautiful hair, and his dreamy eyes. Nothing else existed. Nothing else mattered.

Buckley climbed on top of you again. “Careful what you ask for, baby. Supersoldiers don’t get tired.” He sounded so cocky it made you only want him more just to prove him wrong.

“I want you, please,” You begged, looking up at him with those eyes that made him weak.

One of his hands found its way to your throat and he wrapped his fingers around it carefully as he stared into your eyes. “Nothing else holds my girl in a chokehold but me, you hear that? Nothing else has power over you, but me. And you,” He leaned in closer to make sure his point got across, “You are my good girl. You’re enough. You do a great job everyday. You’re stronger than all that’s trying to drag you down. And you’re louder than all the dark voices, you hear me?”

You nodded, the look in his eyes was so intense, so raw and sincere, and so shamelessly feral that you might’ve come undone right there if he asked you to.

“You will come for me like my good girl, won’t you, baby?” He asked, guiding the tip of his cock over to your clit and circling it, smearing his precum and your wetness around.

You whimpered at the sensation. So fucking good. You nodded rapidly, “Yes… please,” You begged.

“Of course you will,” Bucky chuckled, “Because you’re my perfect girl.” He teased you a bit more by just pressing the tip of his cock against your tight hole. Not pushing it in, just pressing ever so gently until you whined and clawed at his neck and shoulders, sliding your fingers into his ridiculously soft hair and tugging on it gently.

“Bucky, please.” You mumbled, “Please, please, please…”

“I know baby, I know.” He said, keeping his hand around your throat, pinning you down on your bed with it. “I’m here, I’ll make it feel good.” He whispered, before pushing his cock all the way inside you.

You gasped loudly at the same time as he groaned when he slid all the way in you. He remained still for a few moments, just relishing the feeling of your warmth around him. Your breath was shaky as you felt him fill you up and stretch you out so deliciously, snug, deep, and big inside you.

Bucky looked down at your face contorting in pleasure as he breathed heavily. Then he moved just a little, and the slightest friction made you whine even louder. “Does that feel good, baby? Is that cock good enough for my perfect girl? Hmm?”

“Yes…” You breathed, looking at his gorgeous face above you. Fuck, you could spend forever here under him. He felt so good.

“Look at that,” He said, “You’re tearing up already,” He pointed out, noticing the wetness in the corners of your eyes. “Feel good inside you, don’t I?” He teased, rolling his hips just the slightest bit in between your thighs.

You cried out in pleasure.

He tightened his grip around your throat slightly and said, “I know baby, I know it feels good. This is exactly what my good girl deserves.” He whispered. Then he said, “Now, keep your pretty eyes on me. I want you to watch me while I fuck you, okay?”

You nodded quickly, a tear escaping your eye already. Fuck, he felt so good.

Bucky let out a grunt as he started fucking into you hard and fast. He tightened his grip around your throat as he sped up into you, holding your stare and telling you how good you felt.

You could only respond with moans and whimpers, which only made him fuck you harder.

He sped up into you, mumbling, “Knew you’d feel fucking amazing around me. ‘Cause you’re my perfect girl, aren’t you? Perfect, tight pussy as well.” He whispered, in a daze as he pounded into you. “You were fucking made for me.”

Your body squirmed under him, your back arching off the bed, you were burning. Bright and hot. Like the fucking sun. And he was giving it to you like you wanted it, hard, fast and raw.

His thrust was relentless, his weight on top of you felt too good. So good you never wanted him to pull out of you, so you raised your trembling legs and wrapped them around his hips.

He chuckled when you did that. “Yeah? Don’t want me to stop, do you?” He taunted. “Just want me to keep going, keep fucking my good girl how she likes it, huh?” He pressed the sides of your throat as he fucked deeper into you.

He watched as you got closer and closer to the edge. And just when you were right there… he stopped abruptly, and pulled out.

You gasped in shock.

“Oh what, you thought you could just come so easily?” He teased, grabbing you by the hips and flipping you around onto your stomach. “I tried to be nice and sweet to you, but that’s not what you want or need, is it, baby?” You moaned as he grabbed your wrists and pinned them to your lower back with one hand, while the other guided his cock over to your hole again. “You see? This is what you need.” He leaned over you to whisper into your ear, sliding back inside you as he said, “You wanted me to make you feel something, huh? Do you feel it now, baby?” He tugged on your pinned wrists, which made you whine in pain and pleasure. “You feel me inside you? Right where I belong, isn’t it?”

You nodded, rubbing your face against your dark, cool bed sheets. “Yes…”

He began fucking into you from behind, hard and fast. Mercilessly. Like he was claiming you. Marking his territory. Rough. Raw. The pleasure was overwhelming, building, and building, and building…

Until you couldn’t hold it back much longer…

“Come for me, angel.” He whispered, lips brushing against your ear. “Be my good girl and come all over…”

You didn’t hear the rest. You came all over his cock with a loud moan, gasping and crying as he came right after you – filling you up with his cum as he did. You were gasping for air, and so was he. His body weight on top of you felt nice, his body heat felt nice. Everything was nice, light, and perfect.

He let go of your wrists and then you felt him kiss along your spine, gently. Softly. Like he hadn’t been fucking you like an animal just seconds ago. “You okay, baby?” He asked, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck. “My pretty girl, so perfect for me.”

You were still catching your breath when Bucky lay beside you and pulled you into his arms. You immediately clung to his side.

“I’ve got you.” He whispered.

You sighed, with a faint smile forming on your face. Your cheek pressing against his damp chest. “Thank you, Buck.” Your mind was quiet, but in a good way. “I needed that.”

“I know.” He murmured, rubbing your back in that soothing way he always did.

But then, you still had one question. “How did you know when to come find me? I texted you I was going to bed.” How did he even know to come and check on you? How did he know you weren’t doing well at all?

A smirk, then he said, “I always know what my girl needs.”

You teased, “Your girl, huh?”

“You’ve always been my girl.”

—

a/n: [escapes my padded cell to throw this at your face]

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #marvel #thunderbolts #avenger!reader

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