#time to welcome them home 💜

[oftheblue]

They're coming home ♡

[jkwrites-m]

Welcome Home

Pairing: Jungkook x female reader

Genre: established relationship, fluff, smut

Word Count: 6.4k

Summary: He’s finally home. And Y/N is ready to love him for the rest of forever.

Warnings: MDNI, Explicit, 18+, cursing, kissing, emotional vulnerability, light confessions, multiple smut scenes, separation, military, crying, light anxiety, explicit: praise, fingering, body worship, breast play, oral (f. receiving), slight handjob, unprotected sex (this is fiction!),

A/N: in honor of our boys coming back 🫡 (& another time ending & crying from everyone’s lovely comments), here’s a lil something since I stayed up all night to write bc what’s sleep? 🫶 (i originally planned like 3k words but i got kinda carried away 🤭)

♡ MASTERLIST

═══════

The clock ticked louder than it ever had before.

I’d vacuumed the living room twice. Rearranged the throw pillows six times. Lit two candles- one because it smelled like vanilla and safety, and the other because it was his favorite and smelled like expensive cologne and pine trees. My heart had been hammering against my ribs for the past hour, and now it had officially moved to my throat.

I was pacing.

Still in his oversized gray hoodie. Still barefoot. Still wearing the stupid socks with the tiny bunnies on them because they were his favorite and made him smile when he caught me dancing in them, and god, I just wanted him to smile again.

Eighteen months.

A year and a half of letters and FaceTime and countdowns and aching. The kind of ache that settled into your bones and made even the softest days feel sharp. And now, at last, it was over.

He was coming home.

Jeon Jungkook- my boyfriend, my best friend, my whole fucking world- was minutes away from walking through our door.

I felt like I was going to throw up. Or cry. Or both.

Probably both.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the hallway mirror and winced. I looked soft, nervous, flushed. Eyes too bright, mouth slightly open like I was afraid to breathe.

The couch still had the dent from the last time he sat there, all those months ago, legs spread, hair a mess, tugging me onto his lap while pretending we had five more minutes. The plants had survived, shockingly. His bunny mug was still in the cabinet, a little dusty but sacred. His dog tags were tucked in the top drawer of my nightstand, hidden like a secret I never wanted to forget.

My phone buzzed.

Jungkook: On my way up now 💜

My lungs forgot how to work.

I backed up until I was pressed against the front door, fingers curled around the hem of his hoodie, grounding myself in the scent that still lingered no matter how long it had been washed.

A minute passed.

And then, I heard it.

The sound of keys.

The soft jingle of metal against metal.

The world stopped spinning.

The doorknob turned slowly, like a movie playing in slow motion. The click of the lock releasing. A pause. A shift in the air.

And then- he was there.

He stood there for a second like he wasn’t sure if this was real.

His uniform was neat but creased from travel. The duffel bag slipped off his shoulder and thudded to the floor, forgotten. His hair was shorter than when I last saw him, neatly buzzed on the sides, grown just enough on top to let a few strands curl slightly across his forehead. His eyes- those stupid, beautiful brown eyes met mine, and they were glassy.

My mouth opened, but no words came out. I just stared, like blinking might make him disappear.

He said nothing at first. Just looked at me like I was a miracle.

And then he smiled.

That lazy, crooked, I-love-you-so-much-I-can’t-stand-it smile.

“Hi,” he said softly, voice rough and low.

I didn’t remember crossing the room. I just knew I was in his arms.

I slammed into him with enough force that he stumbled back a step, and his arms snapped around me like steel. His breath hitched. My fingers dug into his back, holding him as close as possible, trying to pull him into me.

“Shit,” he whispered against my hair. “You’re real. You’re really here.”

“You’re here,” I breathed, shaking. “You’re actually here.”

And then we kissed.

Hard. Fast. Desperate.

He tasted like spearmint gum and tears and every single day I’d waited for him. Our mouths clashed, messy and urgent, and I whimpered when he cupped my face with both hands, thumbs stroking the apples of my cheeks like I might fade if he didn’t touch every inch of me.

When we finally broke apart, he pressed his forehead to mine, his voice cracking.

“I kept dreaming about this.”

I laughed through a sob. “I kept your mug on the top shelf. It’s dusty as hell, but it’s yours.”

He laughed, breathless, hugging me tighter. “That stupid bunny one?”

“Of course.”

He looked at me like I was made of stars. “God, I missed you.”

I swallowed hard. “I missed you so bad, Jungkook. It physically hurt.”

His nose brushed mine. “Don’t cry yet. You promised not to cry.”

I wiped at my cheeks, sniffling. “You promised not to make me cry in the first five minutes.”

“And yet here we are,” he said with a grin, stepping inside fully and kicking the door closed behind him.

The moment it clicked shut, something shifted.

The weight of the past eighteen months lifted just enough for us to breathe.

He bent down, gently picking up his duffel bag with one hand and keeping the other firmly around my waist, like letting go wasn’t an option. I guided him toward the living room, heart still pounding in my ears, his presence so overwhelming it felt like light filling up every corner of a long-empty room.

═══════

We sat on the couch in the same spot we always claimed.

He let out a long sigh and leaned back, pulling me onto his lap without hesitation. I curled into him like I’d never left, straddling his thighs, arms wrapped around his neck. His hands settled on my hips, thumbs rubbing slow, calming circles.

“Still fits,” he murmured, looking down at the way I curled into him.

“What, me?” I teased.

He smirked. “You. The hoodie. The weight of you in my arms. All of it.”

I flushed, brushing my fingers across his cheek. “You look… God, I forgot how good you look up close.”

“Yeah?” he said, eyebrows raised, cocky grin pulling at his lips.

I nodded, biting my lip. “Like you’re gonna kiss me stupid again.”

He didn’t answer with words. He leaned in and did exactly that.

His lips were warm and familiar.

The kind of kiss that melted through skin and settled in the marrow.

I didn’t want to stop. I didn’t think I could stop. His mouth moved against mine like he was relearning every curve, every sigh, every tiny sound I made when he tilted his head just a little bit more. His fingers pressed against the small of my back, pulling me closer until there was nothing left between us but heat and years of pent-up wanting.

When we finally broke for air, he was smiling.

That soft, smug, gorgeous smile I hadn’t seen in person in far too long.

“You’re seriously trying to kill me,” I murmured, brushing my thumb along his bottom lip.

His eyes sparkled. “You think I flew across the country, got discharged, and came home just to not kiss you stupid?”

I snorted, burying my face in his neck. “You smell like detergent and danger.”

“Danger?” he repeated with a laugh. “Baby, I’m tame now. Government-issued. Fully trained in discipline.”

I pulled back just enough to raise a brow. “Yeah? That right?”

He nodded solemnly. “Mmhm. Highly decorated. Wildness fully contained.”

I rolled my hips just slightly in his lap- barely there, just enough to see if he’d crack.

He did.

“Fuck,” he hissed, hands tightening on my hips. “Okay- maybe not that contained.”

“That’s what I thought,” I whispered, lips brushing against the corner of his jaw.

His head tilted back, exposing his throat, and I kissed the smooth skin there, letting my teeth graze just enough to make him shiver.

“Eighteen months,” he whispered. “Do you know how many times I imagined this exact moment?”

“How many?”

“Too many to count. Always you. Always this hoodie. Always the way you look when you’re about to get what you want.”

I grinned. “What makes you think I’m about to get what I want?”

His hands slid under the hem of the hoodie, fingers grazing my bare thighs.

“Because I’m about to give you everything.”

═══════

He stood with me in his arms like I weighed nothing, one arm hooked under my legs, the other around my back. I squealed, laughing into his shoulder as he carried me down the hallway like some lovesick soldier in a romantic drama.

“I can walk, you know,” I teased.

“I’ve waited long enough,” he said, voice low. “Let me carry you for a bit.”

I bit my lip, heart stuttering.

He pushed open the bedroom door with his foot and set me down gently on the mattress. For a moment, we just looked at each other. No words. No teasing.

Just us.

His eyes roamed my face like it was holy. Like he was mapping me out again. He slid his hand up my leg slowly, reverently, pausing at the edge of the hoodie.

“Still mine?” he asked, voice rough.

“Always,” I whispered.

His mouth crashed into mine again.

But this time, it was slower. Deeper. We kissed like we had time. Like we had forever.

And as his hands started tugging fabric, and mine fumbled with the buttons of his uniform, I felt it- that tiny pulse of something perfect. Something sacred.

He kissed down the column of my neck like it was the only way he remembered how to breathe.

Slow, lingering, lips dragging along my pulse point, a warm exhale every time his mouth hovered just above skin. My fingers were in his hair before I realized it, tugging slightly, needing to anchor myself in something because I felt like I was floating.

The hoodie was still on me.

I think he liked it that way for a minute- his oversized clothing wrapped around my body, bare legs curled in the sheets beneath me, looking up at him like he hung the damn stars.

“Kook,” I whispered, fingers brushing his jaw.

He looked up, eyes dark and unreadable.

“Take it off,” I said, voice smaller than I meant it to be. “Please.”

His expression softened.

He didn’t rush. He didn’t tug or yank or act like he’d been waiting eighteen months just to get me naked- even if we both knew that was true. Instead, he knelt on the bed, hands sliding slowly up my thighs and under the hoodie, pushing the fabric up inch by inch.

I raised my arms for him.

He peeled it off gently, reverently like unwrapping something precious.

I was bare underneath. Nothing but skin and nerves.

He let out a slow, shaky breath. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

My skin flushed. “You always say that.”

“Because it’s always true.”

His eyes drank me in like he was trying to memorize everything- the curve of my waist, the swell of my chest, the way I was already squirming under his gaze.

“You look like a dream,” he said, voice hoarse.

“And you look like mine,” I whispered back.

He leaned down, lips brushing the skin between my breasts, and I arched up into him on instinct.

Everything felt amplified. My body was hyper-aware of him. The way his fingertips skated along my hips, how he kissed across my ribs, how he made sure to linger in every spot that made me twitch or sigh or clutch the sheets.

“Still okay?” he asked, lips hovering above my belly.

“God, yes.”

“I want to go slow,” he murmured. “I don’t want to miss a single second.”

I reached for him, tugged gently on his shirt. “Then take this off and let me look at you.”

He sat up and pulled the dark green uniform shirt over his head, revealing tanned skin and inked muscle. My mouth dried instantly.

“You’ve been working out,” I said, biting my lip.

He smirked. “Had to keep busy.”

“Well, it paid off.”

I ran my hands down his chest, loving the way he shivered under my touch.

He lowered himself onto me, skin to skin now, heat meeting heat, and kissed me like he meant to make up for every night we’d lost.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he whispered, voice barely holding together.

“I do,” I breathed. “Because I felt it too.”

His hand slipped between us, and I gasped.

The real beginning was here.

And I was ready.

═══════

His fingers moved slowly- deliberate, trembling slightly, like the gravity of touching me again after so long was still settling in.

I opened for him instinctively, breath catching as he slid two fingers along my folds, testing, teasing, learning me all over again. His forehead pressed to mine, eyes never leaving mine, watching every twitch of my mouth as I whimpered under his touch.

The air between us was thick with anticipation, heavy with the weight of eighteen months apart.

“You’re soaked,” he breathed, his voice rough and low, as if the words were torn from him against his will.

“You’re late,” I whispered, a teasing edge to my tone, though my heart was pounding in my chest. I couldn’t help but smile, even as my body arched into his touch, craving more.

He let out a strangled laugh and kissed me again, lips claiming, hand steady as he slipped one finger inside me, and I gasped so loud he groaned, his breath hot against my skin.

“Fuck,” he muttered, kissing down my throat. “I forgot how tight- how perfect- ”

“Don’t you dare stop,” I breathed, nails digging into his shoulder, holding him close. I needed him, needed this, after so long apart.

He didn’t.

A second finger joined the first, slower now, deliberate, as if he were mapping every inch of me. My hips bucked up into his hand without shame, without hesitation.

I wanted all of him. Now.

My hands fumbled at his waistband, and he didn’t stop me. In fact, he shifted just enough to help, pushing the last of his clothing off, bare now, hot and flushed and hard as hell. My mouth actually dropped open.

I looked down.

“Oh.”

His smirk was wicked, playful, the same one that had always made my heart skip a beat. “Something you missed?”

I bit my lip. “So much.”

And then I was on my back again, legs wrapped around his waist, his body hovering above mine like a question- waiting for the answer we both already knew. I could feel the heat of him, the weight of him, and my answer was already written in the way my body arched toward his.

“Still sure?” he whispered, forehead pressed to mine.

“Don’t make me beg,” I said softly, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging inside me.

His hips rolled forward.

We both gasped.

It was a stretch- the good kind. The perfect kind. Like being filled up with something that felt like love and breath and the sun all at once. He sank in slowly, carefully, kissing me through every inch, groaning against my mouth when he bottomed out.

We didn’t move at first.

Just stared at each other like the world had ended and we were all that was left. His eyes searched mine, full of questions and answers, of everything we hadn’t said in the months apart.

Then he started to move.

Slow. Rhythmic. Deep.

Every thrust was measured, like he wasn’t just fucking me- he was remembering me. I clung to him, my legs wrapped tight around his waist, my hands digging into his back, mouth open with moans I couldn’t control. My breath stuttered in time with his hips, and I felt every inch of him, every memory, every moment we’d missed.

“God, I missed you,” he groaned.

“I never stopped wanting you,” I cried out, my voice breaking as tears welled in my eyes.

He kissed away the tears as they came- not rushed, not frantic. Just present. Every part of him was right there. No space left between us. No apologies. Just forgiveness and softness and heat and-

My orgasm hit me like a wave.

It stole my breath and made me cry out, body tightening around him in a way that made him curse beautifully into my neck. He didn’t stop moving. He kept going- rougher now, chasing his own high as he buried his face in my chest.

“I’m close,” he panted, his voice a raw whisper. “Fuck- I’m- ”

“Cum,” I whispered. “Come home to me.”

That did it.

He spilled into me with a guttural moan, shaking, holding me so tight I couldn’t tell where he ended and I began.

We stayed like that for a long time.

Sticky. Sweaty. Tired. Home.

═══════

Later, he curled into me, head resting on my chest like it was the only pillow that ever made sense. One leg hooked over mine. One arm around my waist. He held me like I was the last tether holding him to earth- like if he let go, the world would tip again.

I couldn’t stop touching him.

My fingers carded through his hair, slow and steady. It was softer than I remembered. Freshly washed, warm from sweat, the ends damp and curling from the heat between us. I pressed a kiss to the crown of his head and inhaled deeply, committing the moment to memory.

He didn’t speak. But I knew he wasn’t asleep.

His breath hitched every time I stroked behind his ear. His thumb brushed back and forth across the skin just above my hip bone, like he was counting seconds. 

He was still here. Still present. Still grounding himself.

Every so often, he’d let out a long breath, not quite a sigh, more like a release. As if with each exhale, a little more of the weight he’d carried for eighteen months finally bled out of him.

“I love you,” I whispered, not even meaning to say it aloud.

But he hummed in response, soft and quiet, like his soul already knew.

And still, I held him.

I let my fingers explore gently. Tracing the curve of his shoulder, the line of his spine, the new ridges and hardness in his body that hadn’t been there before. He’d grown stronger. Quieter. Older, somehow. But this- the way he clung to me like I was his anchor, hadn’t changed at all.

Finally, his breathing began to slow.

His grip loosened, not in fear, but in peace. His face softened, lips parting slightly as sleep took him. I kissed his temple, felt the tiny twitch of his lashes against my chest.

I waited until he was fully still. Until the apartment around us felt like a cocoon, and the air between us had settled into something sacred.

Then I leaned in close. My lips brushing the shell of his ear, breath warming his skin.

“Welcome home,” I whispered.

He didn’t answer.

But the smile that tugged at his lips in sleep was enough.

═══════

When I woke up, the room was blue.

That soft, pre-dawn blue where everything looks like a painting. The blinds were tilted just enough for the city lights to bleed through, casting long shadows across the sheets tangled around our bodies. I hadn’t moved. Neither had he.

Jungkook was still draped over me, cheek pressed to my chest, breathing slow and even. His arm was slung lazily over my waist, fingers curled into the fabric of the sheet like he was afraid I’d vanish if he let go.

I could barely breathe, but not because of the weight.

Because of the peace.

I lay there, unmoving, eyes tracing the slope of his bare shoulder, the tiny freckles on his back, the edge of the tattoo that peeked out from beneath the covers. God, I missed those freckles. I missed the way he slept- completely uninhibited, one leg flung out, lips parted slightly like he’d been dreaming something soft.

He made this tiny sound when I brushed a hand down his spine. A low, sleepy murmur, almost like a cat stretching into touch. I smiled.

“I missed that noise,” I whispered, not really intending for him to hear.

But he shifted slightly, his voice thick and rough from sleep. “Missed you whispering in bed.”

My breath caught. I looked down, and sure enough, his eyes were barely open. 

His lips were pulled into a sleepy, lopsided smile.

“Good morning,” I said, brushing the hair from his forehead.

“Best one I’ve had in eighteen months.”

I felt my throat close a little. “You remember how to flirt, I see.”

“Hard to forget when you were in my dreams every damn night.”

He pushed himself up on one elbow and hovered above me, the sheet slipping slightly to reveal his chest. He leaned down and kissed my bare shoulder. Then my collarbone. Then the corner of my mouth.

“You smell the same,” he whispered.

“So do you.”

He smiled. “Must be fate.”

I laughed, pushing at his chest until he collapsed beside me with a groan, arm pulling me with him. I curled into his side, my hand resting over his heart.

“You okay?” he asked after a beat. “Really okay?”

I nodded against him. “I didn’t realize how not-okay I was until I could touch you again.”

He swallowed hard. “Same.”

We lay in silence for a moment, just listening to each other breathe. There was something sacred about the quiet. Something that didn’t need to be filled. Just held.

“I was scared,” he said quietly, voice so low I almost missed it.

My heart paused.

He was staring at the ceiling now, one arm still around me, his fingers drumming slowly against my hip. It was a nervous rhythm, soft and off-tempo. Like he was fighting the words.

“What were you scared of?” I asked, nuzzling closer, my nose brushing his jaw.

He hesitated, then turned to face me fully.

“That you’d move on,” he said. “That you’d realize you didn’t want to wait anymore. That someone else would come along and actually be there for you.”

I blinked at him.

“Jungkook.”

He looked down. “I know it’s dumb. You always reassured me. But every time I saw your face through a screen instead of in front of me, it hit me all over again. I wasn’t there. I couldn’t hold you when you cried. I couldn’t kiss you when you had a bad day. I couldn’t even send you a real fucking gift without jumping through a dozen approval hoops.”

“You sent me letters,” I whispered, voice thick.

“I wanted to send me. Not scraps of me. All of me.”

I cupped his face gently. His eyes were glassy again, lashes heavy with emotion.

“I never wanted anyone else,” I told him. “Not even for a second.”

He swallowed hard.

“I didn’t stay because I’m a good girlfriend,” I continued. “I stayed because you’re my person. You’re the one I see when I think of forever. There’s no timeline that could ever make me forget that.”

He leaned forward and kissed me- slow, deep, thankful. He kissed me like I’d just saved his life.

“I love you so much,” he whispered against my lips.

“I love you more.”

“Impossible.”

We fell back against the pillows, foreheads touching, breath shared. The silence between us wasn’t silence anymore. It was full. Of everything we’d said. And everything we didn’t need to.

After a few minutes, I rested my chin on his chest.

“I had my own fears,” I admitted.

He looked down at me. “Yeah?”

I nodded slowly. “That when you came back, you’d be… different. That maybe the version of you I remembered wouldn’t exist anymore. That I wouldn’t know how to fit next to you again.”

He traced a finger along my back. “Did it feel like that?”

“No,” I said. “It felt like breathing again.”

He pulled me tighter against him. “Then let’s never stop.”

My heart fluttered.

He kissed my forehead and whispered, “We can stay here all day, you know. Screw the outside world. No alarms. No phone calls. Just you, me, and this bed.”

“You’re speaking my language,” I murmured.

“I’ve always been fluent in you.”

I giggled, hiding my face against his chest. “That was so cheesy.”

He grinned. “I’ve been saving that line for weeks.”

═══════

Time slowed in the haze of post-reunion softness.

I couldn’t tell how long we’d been wrapped up in each other like that. Minutes? Hours? I didn’t care. The world outside our bedroom didn’t exist. It’s just the faint hum of the fridge, the occasional car below our window, and the steady thrum of Jungkook’s heartbeat beneath my cheek.

“I missed this,” I mumbled, eyes still closed.

He stroked my back gently. “What, cuddling naked in bed while I sweat like a furnace?”

I snorted. “No. Well, yes. But also this. Just being dumb and half-asleep and saying things like ‘I missed this.’”

His chest rumbled under me with quiet laughter. “I missed you being dumb and half-asleep.”

“Charming.”

“You love it.”

“I do.”

We stayed there, giggling softly, like we were trying not to wake the memory of everything we’d been through. I traced lazy shapes on his chest, spelling out nonsense, occasionally drawing a heart or writing his name with my fingertip.

He hummed. “Whatcha writing?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Is it dirty?”

I grinned up at him. “What if it is?”

He leaned down, nudging my nose with his. “Then I’m obviously obligated to investigate.”

His mouth found mine again. Slow, sleepy, and deliciously unhurried. He kissed me like there was no rush. Like we had all the time in the world.

And for the first time in a long time, we did.

When we pulled apart, he tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “You wanna know what I missed the most?”

I nodded.

He smiled. “The way you look at me when you’re not saying anything. Just… like that. Like you already know I’m yours.”

I felt my eyes sting.

“And you are,” I whispered. “You always were.”

═══════

Eventually, our stomachs growled loud enough to interrupt the moment.

He groaned. “Okay. I love you, but I also love food.”

“You can have both,” I said. “You have me and leftover ramen in the fridge.”

He lit up like a little kid. “You kept the leftovers?”

I smirked. “I keep everything.”

He reached for his boxers, but I yanked him back by the waistband and planted a quick kiss on his lips. “I’m serious, though. Today’s just for us.”

“No calls. No errands. No makeup or clothes unless absolutely necessary.”

He saluted. “Roger that. I am officially yours for the day.”

“You’re mine every day.”

He kissed the tip of my nose. “Damn right I am.”

═══════

Jungkook made breakfast shirtless, and I decided I was never letting him leave the apartment again.

He wore nothing but those gray sweatpants and a sleepy grin, hair messy from bed, dog tags clinking softly as he moved around the kitchen like it was still his. Like no time had passed. Like his body didn’t just come home from the weight of eighteen months of structure and silence.

I sat on the counter in one of his old t-shirts (the black one with the tiny bleach stain near the hem) and watched him whisk eggs like it was the most mesmerizing thing in the world.

“I forgot how loud you are in the kitchen,” I teased, swinging my legs.

“I forgot how nosy you are,” he shot back with a grin, glancing over his shoulder.

I smiled, sipping my coffee. “Is it weird that this feels normal already?”

“Not weird. Perfect.”

He poured the eggs into the skillet and crossed the kitchen to stand between my legs. His hands rested on my thighs, his head dropping to my shoulder.

“I used to imagine this exact moment,” he said softly. “Waking up with you. Cooking for you. Holding you in a room that didn’t echo.”

My fingers threaded through his hair. “We’re here now.”

“I know.” His lips brushed my neck. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

═══════

We ate together at the counter. Laughing over slightly burnt toast, fighting over who got more juice, giggling when he leaned over just to kiss the corner of my mouth.

Every moment felt precious. Every touch mattered.

After breakfast, we curled up on the couch- me wrapped in a blanket, him lying between my legs, head on my chest like before. Our show played in the background, but we didn’t pay attention. We were too caught up in each other.

“I kept watching this without you,” I admitted.

He gasped dramatically. “You betrayed me.”

“I had to do something to feel close to you.”

He smiled, looking up at me. “You could’ve just written ‘Jungkook is sexy’ on all the mirrors.”

I snorted. “You assume I didn’t?”

He burst out laughing, hand sliding under the blanket to squeeze my knee. “God, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

We stayed that way until the sunlight shifted, the afternoon creeping across the walls. And still, neither of us moved.

He sighed deeply, hand stroking my hip under the blanket. “You know the hardest part?”

I tilted my head.

“It wasn’t the schedule. Or the drills. Or the cold nights. It was sleeping without you. Going to bed and waking up without you.”

I bent down and kissed his temple. “Well, you’re never doing that again.”

He nodded slowly. “I’ll hold you to that.”

═══════

Night fell slow and soft over the apartment, wrapping everything in gold. The city hummed outside the window, but inside, it was just us. Tangled limbs. Quiet breaths. Familiar touches.

We lay curled around each other in bed, the comforter kicked halfway down, skin against skin. I was spooned against his chest, his arm tucked tight around my waist, nose pressed to the back of my neck. I could feel him breathing me in.

And then his hand started moving.

Not hurried. Not rough. Just soft, slow strokes across my stomach. Fingertips tracing idle patterns, brushing under the hem of the shirt I’d borrowed from him again. 

“Kook,” I whispered, breath catching.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just nuzzled closer, pressed a warm kiss just below my ear.

“I can’t stop touching you,” he murmured, voice heavy with sleep and want. “It still doesn’t feel real.”

I turned my head slightly, meeting his gaze. His brown eyes, warm and heavy-lidded, held a vulnerability I wasn’t used to seeing. “It’s real,” I whispered, reaching down to lace our fingers together. 

His hand was calloused, a reminder of the life he’d lived without me for the past eighteen months, but his touch was gentle, as if he feared I might shatter.

He turned me gently onto my back, body sliding over mine in one smooth, fluid motion. His weight wasn’t oppressive; it was grounding, a reminder of his presence, of us. His lips found my collarbone, and I felt the low hum in his throat as he kissed lower, slower.

My body responded instinctively, arching slightly as his mouth trailed down, his tongue leaving a wet path that made me squirm beneath him.

“Need you one more time,” he said.

My breath hitched. “You just had me.”

“I know,” he whispered, forehead resting against mine. “But I want to feel it again. All of it. You. Us. This. Before sleep takes me.”

There was no room for teasing now, no space for jokes. Just heat and heartache and something deeper than either of us could put into words.

His lips found mine, and he kissed me like it was his final prayer, like he was pouring every unspoken word, every missed moment, into that single touch.

Hands exploring like every inch of me was sacred. 

He pushed my hair back, exposing the curve of my neck, and kissed every inch of newly revealed skin as if asking permission all over again. My shirt was peeled away slowly, his lips following the fabric as it slid off my shoulders. 

I shivered as his mouth found the sensitive skin of my breasts, his tongue tracing the outline of my nipples before taking one into his mouth, sucking gently, then harder, until I gasped his name.

“Kook,” I breathed, my hands tangling in his black hair, pulling him closer.

He smiled against my skin, a cheeky grin that made my heart flutter. “You taste so good,” he murmured, his lips moving lower, his hands sliding down my body. 

He kissed my stomach, my hips, my thighs as his fingers hooked into the waistband of my pants. I lifted my hips, helping him slide them off, and he paused, his eyes drinking me in like I was the only thing he’d ever wanted.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, his voice thick with awe.

I blushed, but the heat in my cheeks was nothing compared to the fire burning low in my belly. “Baby,” I whispered, urging him closer.

His lips found the junction of my thighs, his breath warm against my cunt. I gasped as his tongue pressed against me, slow and deliberate, tasting me like I was the sweetest thing he’d ever known. 

His hands gripped my hips, holding me steady as he explored, his tongue dipping and swirling, his mouth sucking gently, then harder, until I was moaning his name, my fingers clutching at the sheets.

“Fuuuck, Kook,” I groaned, my body arching off the bed. “Right there.”

He hummed his approval, his tongue pressing deeper, his fingers sliding between my folds, teasing the spot that made me see stars. 

“You’re so wet for me,” he murmured, his voice muffled against my skin. “So fucking perfect.”

His praise sent a rush of heat through me, and I felt my walls clenching around his tongue, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps. 

“Baby, please,” I begged, my body on the edge, teetering between pleasure and release.

He smiled against me, his lips curving into that cheeky grin I loved so much. “I got you baby,” he whispered, pulling back slightly, his tongue tracing lazy circles that made me whimper. “Come apart for me.”

His words were the push, and I felt my body respond, my muscles tightening, my breath hitching as he worked his magic. His tongue was relentless, his mouth devouring me, his fingers sliding inside me, stretching me, filling me, until I was a mess of moans and pleas, my body trembling on the brink.

“Kook, I- ”

He didn’t let me finish. His mouth closed over me, his tongue pressing hard against my clit, his fingers curling inside me, and I shattered. My back arched, my nails digging into his shoulders as my orgasm ripped through me, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over me, leaving me breathless and boneless.

“Oh my god,” I gasped, my body still trembling as he kissed his way back up, his lips brushing against mine. “That was-“ 

“Not enough,” he said, his eyes locking onto mine. “But we’ll fix that.”

He shifted, his body moving over mine, his lips finding mine again, kissing me deeply, his tongue tangling with mine as he settled between my legs. I felt him, hard and thick, pressing against my thigh, and I reached down, wrapping my hand around him, stroking slowly, savoring the feel of him, the way he twitched in my grip.

“You’re so hard,” I murmured, my thumb brushing over the head, smearing the pre-cum that had leaked from him.

“All for you,” he replied, his voice a low growl. “Always.”

He kissed me again, his lips moving to my neck, my collarbone, his hands sliding down my body, teasing, touching, until I was squirming beneath him, needy and desperate for more. 

“I want you inside me,” I whispered, my legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer.

He kissed me like he was claiming me, his lips fierce and hungry, his hands gripping my hips as he positioned himself at my entrance. I felt him press against me, the head of his cock teasing my folds, and I gasped as he slid inside, slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving mine.

It felt different. More intense. Like our bodies remembered each other better than our minds ever could. There was no rush. No wild rhythm. Just slow, deep movements- hips rocking together in a perfect, quiet ache.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his voice thick with need. “You feel so good.”

I wrapped my legs tighter around him, urging him deeper, and he obliged, his hips rocking into mine, his thrusts slow and controlled, each one sending a jolt of pleasure through me. His eyes stayed locked on mine, his expression raw and open, as if he was laying his soul bare.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice a chant, a tether holding him to me. “So much.”

I kissed the corner of his mouth, the edge of his jaw, my fingers tracing the scar near his shoulder, a reminder of the life he’d lived before me. 

“I’m yours,” I told him. “Always.”

His thrusts grew deeper, his hips moving in a rhythm that matched my own, our bodies moving as one, our breaths syncing, our hearts beating in time. 

The air was thick with the sound of our skin slapping together, our moans filling the room, our pleasure building, inexorable and undeniable.

“Kook,” I gasped, my body tightening around him, my walls clenching as I felt the familiar coil of pleasure building low in my belly. “I’m close.”

“Me too,” he groaned, his thrusts becoming more urgent, his hands gripping my hips tighter. “Cum with me, baby. Let go.”

My body shattered around him, my orgasm ripping through me, my cries echoing in the room as he followed, his own release spilling into me, his name on my lips as we came apart together, our bodies trembling, our breaths ragged, our hearts pounding.

He collapsed beside me, chest rising fast, sweat-damp hair sticking to his forehead. I turned into him, pulling the blanket up over us. His hand found mine beneath it.

“I could stay here forever,” he mumbled, lips brushing my temple.

I smiled, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. “I’d let you.”

And then, slowly, his body began to relax. His breathing slowed. His grip on my hand loosened just slightly as his eyes fluttered shut.

I looked at him. He’s so beautiful and unguarded in sleep.

My heart ached with how much I loved him.

I leaned in, lips brushing his ear.

“No more waiting, baby. No more distance. You’re home… you always were.”

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♡ MASTERLIST

♡ requests are welcome ♡ taglist ♡

These characters are fictional and do not represent any real-life individuals. Their likeness is used solely for visual inspiration and does not reflect the actual person or their story.

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Posted: 06/10/2025

[asahicore]

cold hands - psh (m)

this work contains smut - minors please do not interact

pairing. sunghoon x fem!reader

synopsis. plot plot plot what is a plot when you can just have vibes and a vague narrative direction... if you MUST know you go to your brother's hockey team back-to-uni party accidentally matching one of the members with your cowgirl barbie costume. hopelessly romantic sunghoon sees this as a sign that the two of you are meant to be together, but you're impossible to read and soon the two of you settle on an ambiguous secret friends with benefits relationship. unfortunately, conflict ensues.

genre. strangers to friends to fwb to lovers..?? its not an asahicore fic if it doesnt have fluff angst AND smut, brothers best friend, jock x nerd type vibe, slight miscommunication put your pitchforks away and hear me out pls it works out i promise, reader has ISSUES 💜 loser loverboy sunghoon, its mostly in his pov, i know nothing about ice hockey

word count. 39.5k 😂

a/n. inspired by @moonlighthoon's request for the 1k trope event! sorry it took ages to write but i hope you like it and that i met ur expectations!!!! hope everyone else enjoys it too, this is the longest fic ive ever written and im quite proud of it, pls pls pls let me know what u thought <333 shoutout to @zreamy .. good luck with your studies, thank u for beta reading and making this fic exponentially better as u always do ⭐️ credit to @/plutism for the dividers :)

Some men never think of it. You did. You’d come along And say you’d nearly brought me flowers But something had gone wrong.

The shop was closed. Or you had doubts - The sort that minds like ours Dream up incessantly. You thought I might not want your flowers.

It made me smile and hug you then. Now I can only smile. But, look, the flowers you nearly brought Have lasted all this while. - Wendy Cope, Flowers

When Sunghoon falls in love, it usually goes as quickly as it came.

Just to name a few:

There had been Ahn Yujin, whose family had moved next to his when he was twelve, and whose dog got on perfectly with his. His crush on the cute girl next door grew with every walk the four of them took but disappeared the second she ditched him to walk home from school with Na Jaemin. 

A few years later, there had been Bae Sumin, who sat in front of him and always had her hair up in a ponytail he found exceedingly pretty. An appointment at the hairdresser was enough for him to stop liking her, as if his interest in her had been laying in the ten centimeters of hair she had cut off. 

In his junior year of high school, there had been Kim Yerim, a college student that tutored him in Math and English. She was three years older, but that didn’t deter him—what did was the fact that she was dating a college graduate. She showed him a picture once, and the guy had biceps probably twice the size of Sunghoon’s. He thought it was safer to give up on her than to fight such a bulky guy five years his senior. 

The first time it stuck was during his first year of college. She was his coach’s daughter and he liked the way she would smile at him when she came to watch their practice. Sunghoon didn’t like to think about her, mainly because even after she broke his heart, for a while there, he continued to love her. 

So, when he first spots you from across the room at the Welcome Back costume party thrown by his hockey team, unintentionally the Cowboy Barbie to his Cowboy Ken, he tries not to read too much into it. Barbie was a hit this summer, it’s an easy and topical costume, of course there’s a pretty girl wearing the same bright pink cowboy hat he is. It doesn’t mean she’s the love of his life.

Right?

He knows you from the pictures that littered the walls of Minjeong, Yunjin and Chaewon’s apartment last year, from Instagram posts, both yours and your friends’, from your video calls with Jake, who dragged him into the camera’s view. Say hi to my sister, he’d insist, like Sunghoon was a child who didn’t want to greet his great-great-aunt. He’d dip in to say hi as requested, ask how you were, and mumble me too like a fool when you said you heard so much about him and were excited to meet him in real life. 

These are the things Sunghoon knows about you: Jake’s older sister by a year, currently on a year abroad in Rome, studies something fancy like Classics, which he hadn’t known people still did in the twenty-first century, deep attachment to Stardew Valley in first year, rarely seen with the same man twice, very pretty. Absurdly so. He’s also weirdly obsessed over the texts you’ve sent to the group chat he was added to at the beginning of last year—scarce, short, elusive. Never more than two sentences, and always long after the conversation was over. But sometimes you’d send photos and videos out of nowhere, of your adventures or of funny things you saw online, and he always hearted them. He even replied to it sometimes (brave hahas or that’s so cool!s), in hopes that it would make you like him, would make you think, he gets me. 

The two of you have never formally met because you left for Italy the year he started university. He’s been nervous about meeting you since the first time the group told him about you. 

Now that he is about to, he can hear his heart thumping so loudly in his ears, it drowns out the bass of the music. He’s glad he gets to see you before having to talk to you—he’s not sure he could take in your presence and form coherent words at the same time. He watches you laugh with your friends, the smile lines that form like dimples around your mouth, the strands of hair you keep tucking behind your ear. Then someone joins your group—except it’s not just someone, it’s Minjeong, her denim jacket so often worn he recognises her from the back, and he realizes the people you’re with have been Chaewon and Yunjin this whole time. The three of them have been banging on about you all year, even more so due to the fact that their replacement flatmate was dreadful, a Spanish girl who only hung out with other Spanish exchange students and looked the girls up and down when they tried to invite her out somewhere.

You turn towards Minjeong, and before he knows it, he’s in your line of sight, and your eyes meet. Confusion, then a flash of recognition goes through your eyes. He had been resting his elbow on a countertop, cider bottle in hand and watching you, he realizes, not unlike a creep, but now he stands up straight and looks around him as if you hadn’t just caught him staring. Before he can find a way out, Jake appears by his side and throws an arm around his shoulders, guiding him into the throng of party-goers and, coincidentally, closer to you.

“Dude, you’ll never guess what.”

“What?” Sunghoon says, tone coming out more irritated than he means it to. He’s just had to give up on making a good first impression on you, and he doesn’t even have the time to think of a way to redeem himself. When he dares to look back at you, your eyes are already on him, a small smile on your lips. You probably hate him already.

“My sister is dressed just like you. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you guys came together or something. Hey, guys!” Jake calls out, and all of a sudden, it’s not just your eyes on him, it’s everyone’s. Well, to be fair, they’re also looking at Jake. But you’re only looking at Sunghoon, and he can’t look away from you either, can’t even manage the politeness to hug everyone in greeting like Jake is doing now. He watches as your eyes rake over his figure, taking him in, assessing him, and he suddenly feels awkward in his costume that matches yours, like he’s somehow overstepped a boundary, like you might think he’s asked around about your costume, found out you were going as Barbie and decided to match you so you’d think the two of you were meant together, like he had two minutes ago, and come to the fairly reasonable decision that he was the weirdest man on Earth. But then you meet his eyes, smile a kind, genuine smile, and his whole body relaxes. 

“Hey, Hoon!” Chaewon calls, arms open wide. He remembers himself and hugs everyone, even you, and he has to pretend like this is completely fine and normal, like his hands aren’t practically shaking as his arms circle your shoulders in a two-second embrace. 

You squeeze one of his shoulders, and keeping his countenance is a Herculean task. He feels like those people centuries ago who passed out at the sight of a lady’s ankle. “It’s so nice to finally meet you,” you say, peering at him over the rim of your red cup. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Sunghoon feels the blush growing on his face; he wasn’t expecting so much of your attention so quickly. He takes a swig of his lukewarm cider, hoping if he seems drunk, it might explain his redness. “Good things, I hope,” he says, aware of the unoriginality but unable to come up with anything better.

“Oh, don’t worry, they’ve made you out to be a saint.” You’ve not once broken eye contact or stopped smiling—it should intimidate him, but instead, it makes Sunghoon feel like you’ve known each other for ages and that this isn’t your first conversation at all. He finds himself able to relax into a smile, and manages to meet your eyes for more than three seconds at a time.

“You don’t believe them?”

You pause, gaze zeroing in on him even more intensely than previously, smile turning smirk-like. Sunghoon’s heart skips a beat. Okay, maybe he’s not that relaxed. “I don’t know you well enough to make up my mind yet. But we’ll be seeing plenty of each other from now on, won’t we?”

This is exactly what Sunghoon has been warned about. You at parties, the way you look at guys, the way you talk to them. Sunghoon has been the audience of more than one recreation of such a scene, Yunjin pretending to be you, Chaewon pretending to be your “victim,” as the others liked to call them. Because once you had set your eyes on a man, he had little chance of making it out. Jay prides himself as being the only survivor, although he has to admit it’s only because Jake interrupted your conversation, telling him, “I see you’ve met my sister.” And Jay was not the kind of person that got off with their friends’ siblings, especially since his and Jake’s friendship was only a week long at that point, and he didn’t want to ruin the atmosphere in their dorm for the rest of the year just because his dick had gotten the best of him. His words. Whenever they were all hanging out together and they called you, one of the girls would inevitably ask if you had “turned any Italian boys into men” or if you had been “terrorizing the good men of Rome recently.” You would either roll your eyes or say this was not a conversation to be had in front of your brother.

Sunghoon had been sure they were exaggerating—it takes two to tango, as they say, and it wasn’t like you ensnared innocent men into your trap. They had to be willing, to want something from you just as much as you wanted something from them. He’d also gotten them to admit it wasn’t that frequent, that you weren’t looking for a new prey every party, just once in a while when you found someone you liked. (He’d been very quiet when Jay asked why he was trying so hard to defend you.)

But now that he is on the receiving end of your alluring smiles, he starts to understand how one could fall for you without meaning to. He knows he can’t — Jake probably wouldn’t take to it kindly, and he didn’t want to spoil the dynamic of his best group of friends at uni — but he has a feeling that ten minutes of talking to you would be enough to shake his resolve.

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure we will. Jake said you studied a lot, but I’m sure we’ll get to hang out. All of us, I mean,” he quickly adds, lest you think he’s already asking you to hang out one-on-one. Sunghoon would not be that forward.

“Of course. I have to see if you did a good enough job replacing me for a year.” Sunghoon’s eyes widen, and before he can blurt out something weirdly laudatory like “I could never replace you, I would never even try, I don’t know you but you’re clearly far superior to me in every aspect and I could never even claim to fill your spot,” you giggle and tell him it’s just a joke. “If anything, I’m happy Jake has managed to make a new friend that he didn’t meet through me, that loser,” you say, and together, you laugh at Jake’s loserness, a topic that will never fail to amuse Sunghoon, although he’s not faring much better in that department. 

“Like, look at him right now,” you say, jerking your head in Jake’s general direction, somewhere behind Sunghoon’s shoulder—and that’s when he realizes that it’s just the two of you standing there, the others gone without him even noticing. Sunghoon turns around, finding the girls, Jay, and a bunch of other people he vaguely recognizes huddled around Jake. They all start chanting his name as he gulps down a giant red cup of beer, then raises the empty cup over his head in victory and crumples it, beaming at the people around him. 

“What is he doing?” Sunghoon asks, laughing at his friend.

“Jay called him over for a beer-off,” you explain. After a beat, you ask, “You didn’t notice?”

The implications are clear in your tone and in your eyes. In the smile playing on your lips, just shy of being a smirk. You didn’t notice because of me, is what you’re really telling Sunghoon—at least, that’s the impression he’s getting. And you’d be right. He was too busy talking to you and trying his best not to make a fool of himself to notice his friends leaving, too engrossed with you to register the sudden disappearance of four people. Across the room, where people have shifted their attention to yet another hockey player downing a sizable amount of beer, he catches Chaewon’s eyes, and she winks at him. Of course—leave it to Chaewon, to whom Sunghoon once made the mistake of drunkenly rambling about how pretty you looked in your Instagram posts last year, to give you and Sunghoon some time alone, “to get to know each other properly,” she would probably say. Although he isn’t sure that small talk over 2000s music counts as getting to know someone. According to the others, she and Yunjin started dating a month into their second year, so Chaewon has proclaimed herself as the goddess of dating and is now always trying to set people up. Sunghoon thinks she’s just living vicariously through her friends now that she has a Mrs. at home.

Because the filter usually at work between the part of Sunghoon’s brain where sentences are formed and his mouth is apparently on leave today, he says, “I do have a pretty distracting sight in front of me.” He’s immediately both mortified and impressed by this sudden bout of confidence, but then you look down and giggle, actually giggle, the sweetest sound he’s ever heard, and only pride remains. 

“So, Ken?” you ask, a cute attempt to change the subject, taking the fabric of the pink bandana around his neck between your fingers. Sunghoon wonders if you’re going to yank him down to your level, and he thinks he wouldn’t have much of a problem with that. 

He realizes that even though you should technically know each other’s names, you haven’t actually exchanged them, so in a confused but correcting tone, he says, “Um, Sunghoon.” He only belatedly realizes that you hadn’t gotten his name wrong, you were just making a comment on his costume, which he had completely forgotten he was wearing in the first place. Just as he’s about to backtrack and salvage what he can of the situation, you burst into laughter, hand leaving his bandana to cover your mouth as he hides his face behind his own hands, laughing along with you despite himself. 

“I know your name is Sunghoon!” you exclaim. The gratification of hearing you say his name takes away some of his embarrassment. “I’m Y/N, by the way. Not Barbie.”

Sunghoon nods. “Good to know.”

The laughter gradually dies down, but your smile stays the same; wide, bright, a smile that exposes your teeth and turns your eyes into crescents. Sunghoon can’t look away. He’s awash with nerves, your gaze simultaneously planting his feet to the ground like they’re full of lead and making him light-headed. His heart is beating so fast, he can barely feel it anymore. 

The two of you stand there, looking and smiling at each other, like in a cliché movie scene where everyone else at the party seems to fade into the background. He has no idea how much time has passed when you break the silence. “It really is nice to finally meet you,” you say, repeating your statement from earlier, as though you mean it more now. 

“It is,” Sunghoon simply replies, because he doesn’t know how else to express the relief of seeing you in the flesh after hearing about you and looking at a digital version of you for a year. The relief, but also the anticipation of what is to come now that he knows he likes you even more now that he’s actually seen you. And improbable as it sounds, you might even feel the same.

Sunghoon can already feel it. The beginning of something.

You nod towards his now empty cup. “Want a refill?”

Together, you make your way through the crowd of increasingly drunk students until you reach the kitchen, where the countertops overflow with open bottles of liquor of all sorts and paper plates with half-eaten pizza slices on them. He watches your every move as you find a cold bottle of beer in the fridge, a bottle of strawberry syrup in a random cupboard that you had to know was there, and a half-empty discarded bottle of lemonade on the counter. You ask him to tell you about last year, everything you missed out on, and so he does. He knows you’ve probably heard it all from the others before, but you still laugh and gasp like it’s the first time you’re hearing about any of it, all the hockey games they won, Jay getting food poisoning from the sketchy pizzeria he kept eating at, Yunjin almost getting into a fistfight with a man twice her size who was flirting with Chaewon. 

You assemble two drinks and hand him one of them. When he takes a sip, his eyes widen at the refreshing and sweet taste. “Good, right?” you say. “I discovered it on a trip to France last summer.”

“Thank God for France. I think that’s the first time I’ve ever enjoyed drinking beer,” he says.

“That’s probably because you can’t taste the beer at all.”

Sunghoon smiles. “Probably, yeah.”

You turn around, lower back against the counter, and take in the current kitchen population. “We really weren’t very original with our costumes tonight.” Sunghoon, who had not taken his eyes off of you this entire time, follows your gaze. He counts five partygoers dressed in some version of Barbie or Ken, and that’s just the kitchen. He doesn’t blame them—the fact that so many people came dressed in costumes at all impresses him, especially for a party on the 10th of September and not the 31st of October. The social committee of the hockey team just seems to really love themed and dress-up parties.

He chuckles, then takes a sip of his drink. It’s really nice. “Yeah, but we look the best.”

Your head whips towards him, eyes glinting with something that makes Sunghoon smile, even though he doesn’t know what you’re thinking. “Should we enter the couple’s costume contest?” you ask.

At the mention of couple, his eyes widen, his brain tricking him into thinking you’ve asked him out for a second. But when what you actually meant dawns on him, the first thing to come out of his mouth is, “There’s a couple’s costume contest?!”

“Mh-hm. The sign-up sheet should be around here.” 

For what feels like the millionth time since he’s started talking to you, his face heats up. “Are non-couples allowed to enter?”

“We’re Barbie and Ken. I’d say that’s enough of a couple, don’t you think?” 

Right. Because he had been thinking of Sunghoon and Y/N, while you obviously meant Barbie and Ken. In the contest, it doesn’t actually matter whether the contestants are dating in real life—it matters that their costumes match. Sunghoon knows that. He just needed a second.

He grins, deep dimples punctuating his cheeks. “Okay, let’s do it.”

Armed with your drinks, you walk around the kitchen in search of the sign-up sheet. You find it on a wall next to the dining table, which has been turned into a beer pong table for tonight’s festivities, and the sheet is almost filled with names already. Sunghoon can only hope that by midnight, when the contest is set to take place, most participants will have had too much to drink to remember it. You write your names on the list, and Sunghoon likes seeing his name in your handwriting so much he almost wants to take a picture.

“There you guys are!”

You both turn around to find Jake stumbling towards you, clearly more intoxicated than when he had left you half-an-hour ago. He rests his arms on your shoulders, forcing Sunghoon down to his height and making you stumble forwards from the sudden added weight. “I’ve been looking all over for you- You’re entering the contest?!”

For a split second, Sunghoon is scared he’s going to get scolded by Jake for trying to hit on his sister, but surprisingly, it’s you he narrows his eyes at. “Y/N, what are you roping my little Hoonie into?”

Sunghoon groans, face perpetually red at this point. Leave it to Jake to make him seem like a total loser. 

You frown at your brother. “I’m not roping your little Hoonie into anything.” Sunghoon wants to bury himself alive. “We agreed on doing it together. Right?” you ask, turning towards Sunghoon and batting your eyelashes at him. It makes him feel a bit better.

He turns back to Jake. “Right. We’re just joining forces to crush the competition.”

Jake scoffs. “As if.” He snatches the pen from your hands and underlines his name as well as Kazuha’s, the girl he came with tonight, three thick black lines that almost erases the names underneath them. “You can’t beat the hockey player and cheerleader combo.”

“Those aren’t even costumes, you guys are a hockey player and a cheerleader,” you protest.

“So?” Jake simply retorts, more attitude in his tone than he would have were he sober.

“So, that defeats the whole purpose of a costume contest.”

Jake knocks on your cowboy hat, and you immediately put it back in place, glaring at him. “As if Barbie was the greatest costume ever. Whatever, let’s just play beer pong so I can defeat you guys twice in one night.”

“You’re on, Sim.”

“You’re going down, Sim.”

Sunghoon had just been watching your back-and-forth amusedly when you grab his hand, leading him to the side of the table opposite Jake. His fingers tingle under your touch, but just like that, it’s gone. He’d rather keep on holding your hand than play this stupid game, but he isn’t opposed to taking Jake’s ego down a notch, either. The boy can barely stand straight, anyway, so it probably won’t be a very tough match.

Some guy he doesn’t recognize in a striped black-and-white referee t-shirt fills most cups with beer and a couple on each side with shots of vodka—he’s so earnest, Sunghoon isn’t sure whether he’s just taking his costume-slash-role very seriously or if he has genuinely been hired to look over the beer pong matches of the night. Some order in the brutish world of college parties, Sunghoon guesses.

Minjeong, Yunjin, Chaewon and Jay appear then, exchanging a quick look at the sight of you and Sunghoon together. The two former join your team, while the two latter join Jake’s, as well as other people that Sunghoon vaguely recognizes from other parties. But by the simple action of getting behind him, they become his most trusted allies for at least this part of the night.

You’re a terrible shot, but Sunghoon makes up for it by scoring almost every round. In his defense, he only misses when you come up close to him and whisper in his ear which cup he should go for. Your breath tickles his (oddly sensitive) ears and the combined scents of the strawberry and lemonade on your tongue and your delicate perfume make his head spin. He can barely think straight, so his aim is naturally thrown off—other than that, he makes Jay drink a healthy amount of beer. He almost feels bad for his friend, but he’d arrived late at the party and needed to quickly catch up with everyone’s level of ebriety anyway.

When the opposite team is down to their last cup, a lightning bolt of luck strikes you, and your ball disappears straight into the vodka-filled cup that Jake now has the honor of downing. 

Sunghoon gives you no time to celebrate, to gloatingly pump your fists in the air and point a mocking finger at your brother, because as soon as you make the shot, he wraps his arms around your waist and lifts you off the ground. When you’re on your feet again, you spin around to find a proud-looking Sunghoon beaming down at you. You burst into giggles and high-five him, your palms perfectly clapping against each other, and he threads your fingers together. A current of electricity rushes through him, and for a second, he swears it’s just the two of you in this packed room.

The moment is cut short by the loud cheers of the others on your team as they shake your shoulders and raise their hands for you to high-five them too. Minjeong flips the other team off and Yunjin has to go hug Chaewon and reassure her it’s nothing personal. It’s really quite easy to make college students happy—or devastated. 

You raise your eyebrows at Jake, who’s busy glaring at you instead of accepting his defeat and taking his shot. With a begrudging sigh, he tips his head back and drinks the vodka in one gulp, the cheers doubling in volume when his face scrunches at the bitter taste of the liquor.

“Don’t act so proud,” he scolds you. “Sunghoon carried your team.”

“Maybe, but she made us win in the end,” Sunghoon retorts, putting an arm around your shoulder. 

Jake scoffs, frowning at Sunghoon’s hand placement before eye-rolling his gaze away. “Whatever.” He slides his phone out of his back pocket and smiles as he shows the two of you his screen. “Would you look at the time? The contest is starting soon.” Then, with an accusatory finger pointed at you, adds, “You may have won this battle, but I’m winning the war.”

He stomps away, presumably to find Kazuha before the contest starts, and it’s your turn to eye-roll at his dramatics. You grab Sunghoon’s hand that hangs off of your shoulders, and together, make your way through the crowd again to the garage, where the contest is taking place. All the alcohol he’s been drinking has definitely started kicking in by now, and he finds himself giggling at nothing with you.

When you reach the threshold, still hand in hand, Sunghoon stops so abruptly behind you that you almost stumble. You look back at him, then follow his gaze towards the garage and the sheer amount of people in there. Worriedly, his eyes take in every single one of the contenders. You let go of his hand and stand in front of him, placing your hands on his shoulders and putting on a determined expression. You’d almost look like a parent reassuring their kid before their first day of kindergarten if you weren’t so much shorter than him. “Don’t even worry about them, Sunghoon. We look better than anyone here.”

His eyebrows crease. “There’s like, three other Barbie-Ken couples here. Some of these costumes are so original. And do you see their makeup? Is that even possible?” he asks, staring at a couple in scarily realistic cosplay of Simon and Jeanette from Alvin and the Chipmunks, fur and all. He can’t look at them for too long without getting chills.

You shake your head. “Almost everyone here is either a hockey player or a… hockey-affiliated person. You’re the beloved and talented defenseman of the team and I’m the star player’s sister. They’ll love us,” you say with a smile, watching the worry dissipate from his features.

“We’re like nepo babies,” he whispers. His lips break into a grin when your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “I don’t know how nepotism works,” he admits, smiling wider when you burst into laughter. “How do you know if I’m talented, anyway? You haven’t seen me play yet.”

Your eyes rake him up and down appreciatively. “I took a wild guess.”

Not unlike a cartoon character, Sunghoon audibly gulps. As a hockey player since his most tender age, and dare he say, a pretty good-looking guy, he is used to girls flirting with him, and he is even hit sometimes by the occasional lightning strike of confidence that allows him to flirt back (he still can’t believe he managed to call you “a distracting sight” without spontaneously combusting). But there’s something in your eyes, in your smile, in the way you talk—something about you that has his breath hitching and his heart racing. He doesn’t know if he wants to run away and hide in a corner or kiss you right then and there.

Heeseung, the captain of the hockey team, announces into a microphone (which Sunghoon wonders where they got the money for) that the contest will start now, so he can neither kiss you nor run away. Instead, he follows you to the side of the room where all the contestants, including Jake and Kazuha, wait for their names to be called out. There are so many participants, it takes way longer than Sunghoon would like for the two of you to step onto the makeshift stage. Judging by the looks on the audience’s faces, everyone is surprised to see you and Sunghoon together—the hockey community at your university may be big, but everyone knows everyone, and gossip travels fast. No one had seen you and Sunghoon together before, for the obvious reason that you hadn’t even met before tonight. But you could be sure that by tomorrow, as silly as it sounds, word will have gone around that you and Sunghoon had participated in a couple costume contest together. 

At least, you give them something of substance to talk about—as you and Sunghoon pose on stage, wearing your brightest smiles to please the crowd, you stand on your toes and press a kiss to Sunghoon’s cheek. Sunghoon’s eyes burn a hole in the side of your face but you just watch as the audience of drunken 20-somethings goes wild over something as simple as a peck on the cheek. Jake is the only one booing. 

Sunghoon is still in shock when the next couple is called forward and you have to step off. His cheeks are redder than before and he can’t quite meet your eyes. Apparently, he also goes wild over something as simple as a peck on the cheek. You nudge his shoulder. “See, I told you they’d like us.” 

He feels like a fourteen-year-old for it, but Sunghoon can’t stop thinking about your soft lips against his cheek, so much so that he barely says a word as the three judges deliberate. If you notice the sudden change in his behavior, you don’t comment on it, perhaps chalking it up to nerves. He’s glad for it—he doesn’t know if he could handle being teased about it, especially from you. Although he’s not sure he wants you to think he’s the kind to stress over a last-minute Halloween costume contest. 

In the end, you don’t win. He suspects it was a rigged contest all along: the couple in the unimpressive Edward and Bella costume are friends with one of the judges, probably leading to their anticlimactic victory. At least it isn’t Simon and Jeannette who win, or Kazuha and Jake, even less original than the winners. Anyway, Sunghoon couldn’t care any less. With your hand in his as you walk back to the main room in search of your other friends, he feels like the biggest victor of the night. He doesn’t even mind it when his teammates tease him about his costume and how good the two of you look together—the smile you shoot him makes putting up with it worth it. He tries to think straight, but between the alcohol and your proximity, he feels like you’ve cast a spell on him.

Jake stumbles into your group, three drinks drunker than when Sunghoon last saw him, enthusiastically reporting that a game of spin the bottle is about to start in one of the rooms upstairs, because what every college party needs is a middle-school game to shake things up. None of the guys seem particularly interested until Jake reveals that the cheerleaders are playing. 

Sunghoon looks down at you, laughing when he sees your mildly disgusted moue. “Don’t feel like playing?”

“Not really, no.” Your eyes linger on his face. “There’s only one person here I want to kiss, anyway.”

All capacity for thought leaves Sunghoon’s brain. He just stares back at you blankly, lips slightly agape, willing himself to say something but also terrified that whatever leaves his mouth might make him seem like the biggest loser ever. 

You couldn’t possibly mean him—but did you? Was he the person you wanted to kiss?

As these questions resound through his head, your gaze drops to his lips. There’s his answer. 

His heart beating wildly in its cage, Sunghoon decides to do one smart thing tonight and leans in, slowly but surely closing the gap between the two of you. Then a sudden vibration in the back pocket of his jeans zaps through him like lightning and he jumps back, as if startled out of the trance you had put him in. Shame flooding his cheeks, he checks his phone; it’s the stupid alarm he set himself earlier to make sure he doesn’t get home too late. Midnight, Cinderella-style. 

You scratch the back of your neck as your eyes dart around the room. For the first time tonight, you look embarrassed—Sunghoon is in disbelief at how pretty you look even then. “I, um,” he starts, clears his throat. “I have this thing tomorrow morning, so I can’t stay too long…” he says guiltily.

He doesn’t want to get his hopes up, but he swears that what he sees on your face is disappointment. It makes him want to take it all back, to stay here with you for as long as you want and forget about tomorrow morning. 

“Oh, right,” you say, nodding. “That’s fine. What thing?”

“Oh.” Sunghoon turns an impossibly deeper shade of red, further resembling the strawberry syrup the more he gets himself in these embarrassing situations with you. “Just… choir. I go to choir on Saturday mornings.” He looks down at his feet like he’s just revealed a secret, shameful part of himself.

You burst into laughter, and Sunghoon is scared for a second that you’re making fun of him, and his feelings are a lot more hurt than they should be by someone he just met. Although, to be fair, you don’t feel like someone he just met.

“That’s so cool! It must be such a nice change from all the dudes on the hockey team,” you say, a sweet, curious smile on your lips. Like you mean what you say. Like you might want to know more.

Sunghoon thinks he just fell in love.

He chuckles. “Yeah. Definitely a nice change. As much as I love hockey, it’s nice to do something calmer, you know. And I like singing. And the cakes the local grandmas bring.”

“So that’s what it’s all about, really.”

“Yep, you caught me.” Sunghoon still feels the almost-kiss lingering, a tension between the two of you that has him on edge. He feels like he’s just missed his bus because it left a minute earlier than planned. The opportunity is gone, and he would definitely mess everything up, trying to kiss you now. So instead, he decides to leave. Whatever must happen, will happen, even if it’s not tonight. You have the same friends—this is definitely not the last time you will see each other. “Well, I should probably head. I have to be up at eight tomorrow.”

“Oh, wow. The choir grandmas don’t play around.”

“They really don’t.”

“Well, see you around then,” you say, a clumsy laugh falling from your lips as you wrap your arms around Sunghoon’s neck, bringing him into a tight but short hug. You also smell good, he notes to himself. Of course you do.

“See you, Y/N.” Just as he’s about to turn away, you wrap your hand around his wrist.

“Wait. Sunghoon?” He’s only half-surprised at the immense relief he feels to hear his name on your lips. Like you, too, didn’t want to part with him just yet.

“Yeah?” he says, wishing the hope and anticipation aren’t too obvious on his face.

“Where’s that choir of yours?”

--

When Sunghoon arrives at his neighborhood’s community center, ten minutes before nine a.m., you’re already there. Despite the seven hours of sleep under his belt, he feels like he could’ve done with three more, and the singular cup of instant black coffee he had for breakfast was both atrocious and useless. But your smile has the restorative effect of two Red Bulls and a power nap. You look surprisingly bright, like you either managed to get a very good night’s sleep or are just the biggest morning person to ever exist.

He hugs you when he reaches you on the sidewalk, tighter than he probably should, but you return it. You smell like fresh soap and sugar. The two of you exchange quick greetings before he leads you inside the center. 

“I made some cookies as well.” You point to your tote bag and Sunghoon’s jaw slackens.

“You had time to bake?” 

“Kazuha made me take Jägerbombs, so I felt crazy when I got home. I thought it wouldn’t be fair on the old ladies if they did all the work.”

Sunghoon laughs. “They’re going to love you.”

You follow Sunghoon up two flights of stairs and into a spacious room with a wooden stage. There’s a snacks table on one side of the room that is almost fully decked with plates and tupperwares of all sorts, and although their contents remain covered by tin foil or lids, the coffee and hot water pots are free to use. Most of the chairs are stacked on each side of the room but a few have been put in the middle, the grandmas sitting and chatting there waving at Sunghoon as the two of you walk in. There are about fifteen people in the room so far, most of them older ladies, but not only. There’s a dad that came with his daughter, a couple of teenagers, and a few other adults. It’s quite an eclectic mix, and Sunghoon loves it.

Minjeong is here, too, which Sunghoon realizes he forgot to say until he sees the sheer confusion of finding someone you know in an unexpected place on both of your faces. She walks towards you, suspicious eyes darting between you two.

“Hey,” she says only to Sunghoon before turning to you, arms crossed over her chest. “And what are you doing here?”

“Hi, Minjeong, so nice to see you too!”

“I invited Y/N,” Sunghoon says quickly, although you did technically invite yourself. For some reason, he feels the need to defend you, even though he knows you and Minjeong have been friends for years now, and Minjeong is just always this blunt.

“I didn’t know this was the choir you went to,” you say to Minjeong.

“Oh, this?” She looks around the room. “It’s only the choir I’ve been going to since I was a kid. You’d know that if today wasn’t the first day you showed interest in it, ever.”

“I came to your concerts!”

One of the old ladies calls Sunghoon’s name from the snack table, and he is glad for the diversion. “Right. I’ll let you guys talk this out.” A hand on your shoulder, he smiles down at you. “I’m gonna say hi to the ladies over there. Be back in a minute.” He shoots Minjeong a look as if to say, Be normal. 

As he approaches the small group, one of them asks very loudly if you’re his girlfriend. They all burst into giggles, blushing and eager-eyed like they’re sixteen rather than sixty. Sunghoon would be endeared if you didn’t look so alarmed and Minjeong so horrified, both of you looking at him before turning back to each other and getting into a very heated and secretive discussion. He is bombarded with a hundred questions: what your name is, where you’re from, how did the two of you meet, are you together? No? But you’re so pretty! And he’s such a nice boy! He answers all of their queries to the best of his ability while checking that your conversation with Minjeong hasn’t turned physical—your arms are now also crossed over your chest, and you look annoyed while she looks like she’s accusing you of something, but at least, punches aren’t being thrown. 

Thankfully, it’s only a couple more minutes until the conductor calls for everyone to gather on stage, and a weight is lifted off of Sunghoon’s shoulders once the ladies’ collective attention is no longer on him. He isn’t sure where they came from, or why they’ve decided to make the choir rehearsal their hang-out spot, but there is always a group of women who sit there and knit while chatting quietly or listening to the songs, and they are sometimes joined by children whose parents are part of the choir but don’t want to sing themselves and apparently have nowhere else to go. Sunghoon had been so excited at the prospect of having you come see him that he hadn’t thought of how boring this might be for you, sitting with sixty-year-olds for two hours, listening to an amateur choir go through scales and sing corny romance ballads—they’re rehearsing for a wedding they’ve been hired to sing at. But as the minutes go by, his worry dissipates when the delighted smile on your face hardly falters. He can’t imagine that his choir is that good, but you genuinely look like you’re having a nice time, and it makes Sunghoon stand a little taller, sing a little louder. Your eyes are on him for most of the time, and he blushes every time your gazes meet, but he still can’t keep himself from looking away from the conductor to check on you every few seconds.   

Once rehearsal is over, everyone gathers around the refreshments table. When you tell Sunghoon that he looked good out there, he stuffs his mouth with banana bread to stop himself from blurting out something stupid. Your cookies are a hit, and so is everything else—Sunghoon would be more than happy to watch you eat as many baked goods as you possibly can and chat with the grandmas, but he has something to ask you. Without thinking much, he wraps his fingers around your wrist, gently pulling you away from the table and towards him. The question that was at the tip of his tongue fades as soon as you meet his eyes, looking up at him like a deer caught in headlights, cheeks stuffed with brownie. You’re so cute that words fail him for a second, and when he notices the proximity between the two of you, takes a small, bashful step backwards. You glance at his hand still around your wrist, and he withdraws it like he’s suddenly been burned. 

A playful smile grows on your lips. “Everything alright?”

He scratches the back of his head. “Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine. I just, um, well. There’s a bus that takes us from right across the street directly to the beach, if you’re, um, if you’re interested. In going. With me. If you want.”

Your eyebrows cock in surprise, and Sunghoon thinks he’s messed it all up. You shoot Minjeong a quick, worried glance, then seem to think for a second. But when you look back to him, your smile is soft. “That sounds nice.”

An hour later, you’re running around together on the beach—or rather, Sunghoon is running around, and after five minutes of watching him with a smile on your face, he’s convinced you to run around with him. You’ve both long discarded your shoes and socks, jeans scrunched up to your mid-calves, grins so wide, your cheeks start to hurt. The wet sand is hard under your feet and the water cold against your skin. Sunghoon’s t-shirt sticks everywhere you sprayed water on him, and he knows putting his shoes on later will be a whole ordeal, but it doesn’t bother him. Even the gray September sky feels brighter because you’re standing with him underneath it. 

The water-splashing battle quickly has you both out of breath, and Sunghoon is ready to call a truce when you spot something behind him, gasping and running towards it. He turns around to find you picking up a bunch of sandcastle-building toys that must’ve been left behind by some kids. “I haven’t built a sandcastle in such a long time, this is so exciting,” you say, excitement written all over your face. 

As much as he loves seeing the glint of childish amusement in your eyes, Sunghoon keeps looking around in case the owners of these toys might appear out of thin air. “I feel like there’s something immoral about this,” he says, and you stop stacking sand into one of the toys to look at him with a confused frown. “Aren’t we technically stealing from some kids?”

“Sunghoon. If those kids really cared about these plastic toys, they wouldn’t have left them here.”

“What if they come back for them?”

“Then we’ll give them back. We’re not monsters.” That’s all it takes for Sunghoon to give in. He helps dig trenches around the towers you build, carving out small windows on them and apologizing profusely when he accidentally pokes too hard into one of them, destroying half of it. 

The second he notices you shivering, Sunghoon is on his feet, unwrapping the scarf around his neck and laying it like a blanket over your shoulders. “I’m going to get us something warm to drink. I’ll be back in a minute!” he announces before you can even protest, and practically runs to the nearest café. 

He only leaves you and the slightly pathetic-looking sandcastle alone for a minute, quickly coming back with two take-away cups of milky Earl Grey tea and a brownie that he couldn’t help himself from buying. The moan you let out when you bite into it, gooey, sweet chocolate sticking to your teeth, goes straight down Sunghoon’s spine, but he tries not to let his thoughts get too carried away.

“Good, right?” he asks, laughing when you nod fervently. When you laugh too, it’s a sound so sweet, it rivals the decadence of the brownie. “I sometimes make the trip all the way here just for this.”

“I thought I’d be done with sweets after this morning, but this is so good.”

“Better than Berta’s banana bread?”

“Oh, a hundred percent,” you say, covering your mouth with your hand as you speak. “Sorry, Berta. I’ll be thinking about this for the rest of my life.”

Sunghoon hopes you’ll remember him as the boy who’d introduced you to those brownies, if nothing else.

The two of you are silent for a little bit, but it’s a comfortable silence—something Sunghoon didn’t know was possible with someone he’d just met. This was something he loved about the sea: it allowed for some quiet. The crashing of the waves against the shore, the calls of the seagulls, the dogs barking after them—it all meant he didn’t need to fill the space with needless chatter. He could look out at the peaceful water, you by his side, and just enjoy the moment.

“I’m still so amazed whenever I come to the beach, no matter how many times it’s been.” Sunghoon’s voice is quiet when he speaks, lower than usual. It sounds a lot more intimate than he means it to be. You turn your head to look at him, silently asking him to go on. There’s a small smile playing on his lips, a twinkle in his eyes as he watches the water. “The town I grew up in is right in the middle of the country, so the sea is like, a five-hour drive. There was a lake nearby, but it was nothing compared to this. It might sound silly, but being from somewhere where everyone knows each other, I never realized just how big the world was until I came here and saw the sea for the first time.”

“You’d never been to the sea before coming here?” you ask, surprise clear in your voice. 

He shakes his head. “My hometown isn’t far from the mountains, so it’s a huge tourist spot both in the winter and in the summer, which meant my mom had to work even when my sister and I were out of school and could actually go on holiday. We’d go visit my grandparents and aunts when we found the time, but that was it.” He meets your gaze, a smile playing on his lips at the thought of his hometown and his family. “This is the furthest I’ve ever been from home.” 

The corners of your lips raise into a smile too, matching Sunghoon’s. “And how has that been going?”

He sighs. “It’s okay. I miss my mom and sister like crazy, of course, but they FaceTime me so much that I barely notice it. And anyways, it’s also nice to be on my own. Discover another part of myself, and all that.”

“For sure.” 

There’s a slight shift in your expression that Sunghoon catches onto, a falter in your smile and a hint of sadness in your eyes. He doesn’t want to force a topic that you don’t want to talk about, so he just gently eggs you on, in case all you need is a small push.

“What about you? I think Jake mentioned you guys growing up around here, only an hour or so away.”

At the mention of your brother, the smile returns to your eyes. You take a deep breath and think for a bit, but eventually, you start talking. Although Sunghoon’s eyes are on you, you keep yours trained on the sea. “Yeah, we did. We live just up the coast, so we were always hanging out at the beach. In a way, it’s nice having the sea here as well. It’s like-I don’t know.”

“Like having a piece of home even when you’re away?”

Your gazes meet for just a second, the surprise clear in your eyes, but as quickly as it came, it’s gone, and you turn away from Sunghoon once more. “Basically, yeah.” A sardonic smile appears on your lips. “Although the constant reminder isn’t always appreciated.” 

He tilts his head. When you don’t say anything further, he flicks some sand onto your hand and asks you what you mean by that. He looks at you with curiosity and kindness only, eager to know more about you, to let you know that you can open up to him, that he won’t judge you, but careful not to overstep any boundaries either. It seems to work.

“It might sound stupid, but back home, the beach was a place I could go to when it all was a bit too much, you know? Like an escape from everyday life. Where I could forget about all of the pressure on my shoulders.” Sunghoon hums, and you take another deep breath. “I don’t know if you and Jake talk about this sort of thing, but… our parents are barely nice when we do well, and pretty awful when we don’t reach their expectations. So we were like, constantly having to outdo ourselves just for them to say, ‘Keep it up’, or something like that. And if we did something wrong, well…”

You trail off, but Sunghoon knows what you mean. “Yeah, Jake said they barely spoke to him anymore because he decided to play hockey instead of becoming, like, a doctor or something.”

You smile, but it’s humorless. “Yep. They send him money, and he comes home for a bit over Christmas and summer break, but that’s it. I’ve gone home by myself sometimes and they won’t even mention him, it’s insane.”

“He also doesn’t talk about it a lot.”

“I know. I’m always the one to bring it up. I know it’s a sensitive topic for him, obviously, but I still find it amazing how well he deals with it. But me… despite everything, I still need their approval, you know?” you ask, and Sunghoon nods.

“That makes sense.”

You sigh. “I guess. And I’m obviously not becoming a doctor like them. Not a medical one, at least. It took a year of convincing them that doing the degree I’m doing was okay. ‘Cause at the end of the day, it’s still me filling in my university applications, and they can’t actually force me to go to medical school, but I still wanted them to be proud of me. Even if I study languages.” It’s quiet for a few seconds as you both look out at the waves crashing against the shore. When you start talking again, you look down at the sand, picking it up and letting it filter through your fingers. “So, yeah. Jake got a scholarship here, and I didn’t wanna be too far from home, so here we are. We’re so close to home, the sea I went to when I needed a break in high school and the sea I go to now are one and the same. And now it reminds me of my parents rather than making me forget about them.”

“I’m sorry for bringing you here,” Sunghoon says. “I didn’t think…”

You cut him off with a smile. “It’s okay. Now I’ve created new memories. Nice ones. And you know… wherever I am, it’ll be at the back of my mind. It’s up to me whether I let it affect my life or not.”

“Letting go of these things is never easy,” Sunghoon offers. “You also can’t blame yourself if it does affect you sometimes.”

When you look at Sunghoon, your eyes darting back-and-forth between his like they’re searching for something there, he feels himself tense up slightly. He can’t read you at all, has no idea what you’re thinking even as you smile and say, “You’re right.” Even as you silently link your pinky with his, gazing down at your hands with a small smile. He hadn’t realized how cold his hands were until this small touch, so small yet able to spread warmth throughout his entire body. When he speaks, he can’t bring himself to meet your eyes—he’s still so focused on where your hands touch, too aware of the skin of your finger right against his. Such a small, innocent touch. He can’t even begin to understand why it means so much to him.

“For what it’s worth, I think what you’re doing is super cool,” he says. “I’ve always been so shit at foreign languages, let alone dead languages. And packing your bags and going abroad for a year, not everybody can do that. Becoming a doctor might be hard, but it also takes a specific kind of person to do what you do. And what Jake does. It’s all valuable.”

“Now, if you could say that again while I record you to show my parents, please,” you say, making him laugh.

“It’d be my pleasure.”

“What about you?” you ask him after a small pause. “I can’t be the only one who trauma-dumps on the first date.”

Sunghoon’s breath hitches in his throat. He hadn’t even dared entertain the thought that this might be more than a platonic hang-out in case he was crossing a line—but you’ve just called it a date. With just a few casual words, you’ve changed the entire meaning of the hours you’ve spent together. He hopes you can’t tell how flustered it’s made him.

“Well, there’s not much trauma to dump, really. Sorry.” 

You giggle. “Don’t apologize. That’s a good thing.”

Now that you’ve just opened up about your parents, Sunghoon is scared that telling you about how good of a childhood he had might come off as insensitive—but you smile softly at him, holding his hand face-up in yours, tracing the lines of his palm with the tip of a finger, and he starts talking. “So, it was just me, my older sister and my mom growing up. My dad died when I was 2.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It is a bit sad that I don’t have any memories of him, but everyone who knew him said he was a great guy. And my mom’s had this boyfriend since I was like, 10? He’s the one who got me to start hockey. So it hasn’t been that bad.”

“Your mom must be really strong.”

Sunghoon smiles. “She is. She’s amazing. To raise two kids on your own while grieving and not royally fuck up is… well, amazing. She’s always been so supportive of us, no matter what we wanted to do. My sister did well at school, but I wasn’t so good. I never really enjoyed it, but she’s never made me feel bad about it. She didn’t mind that all I wanted to do was hit a puck around.” 

“And you’re pretty good at hitting that puck around, aren’t you?”

“I’m not so bad,” Sunghoon says, chuckling along with you. He’s about to go on, but he is cut off by a raindrop hitting his hand, then another one; before either of you know it, your clothes are soaked through. Sunghoon takes his denim jacket off, using it as a makeshift umbrella for the both of you as you run towards the nearest awning, shaking with giddy laughter until you forget about the chilly rain and the clothes sticking to your skin. When it doesn’t let up for another few minutes, Sunghoon suggests catching the bus back, and you agree. 

The heating on the bus is set on low, but it’s enough to warm Sunghoon up as soon as he steps onto it. You sit at the back in a corner of your own, multiple rows away from the other people onboard. The two of you are relatively quiet, lost in your own thoughts until Sunghoon, after much internal deliberating, takes one of your hands in his and interlaces your fingers together. You look up at him, but he doesn’t return your gaze, eyes fixed on the window to hide his shy smile and the blush slowly staining his cheeks. To his surprise, you squeeze his hand and rest your head on his shoulder. He freezes for a second, unsure how to react to your reciprocated affection, but he makes himself relax into your touch, and starts brushing his thumb back-and-forth on the back of your hand. The sudden storm has made day turn to night a little earlier today, and with the quiet hum of the bus, he finds himself on the edge of sleep for the whole ride—the only thing keeping him awake is his booming heart.

The bus is nearing his stop when the buzz of his phone in his back pocket jolts him awake. You lift your head from his shoulder, massaging your neck as you fish your phone out of your own pocket. Sunghoon, more intrigued by you than by whoever has texted him, watches as the brightness of your screen makes you wince. Once you’ve read the text, you turn towards him, sleepy eyes and sleepy voice as you ask him whether he’s seen “this,” referring to a text from Chaewon. dinner at our flat tonight!!! come whenever. bring drinks. 

“Oh, I forgot she was doing that tonight,” you say through a yawn.

Sunghoon chuckles. “Do you have enough energy for it?”

“I always have enough energy for Chaewon’s cooking.”

You and Sunghoon make a pit-stop at a grocery store to buy two bottles of white wine and the hummus Chaewon likes, then head to your flat. Naturally, questions are asked when you and Sunghoon arrive at the exact same time, but before Sunghoon can explain that you spent the day together, Minjeong’s head pops out of the kitchen door, and she asks whether you ran into each other downstairs. Chaewon is only looking at the both of you, waiting for an answer, so she doesn’t see the very pointed look Minjeong gives you, as if to say Agree with me or else. You quickly glance at Sunghoon then say, “Yeah, we just arrived at the same time.” When they’ve both turned away, you tell him in a hushed tone that you’ll ask her about it later. 

The girls are busy in the small kitchen and Chaewon insists that they don’t need any more help, so you and Sunghoon bring two chairs by the kitchen door and sit as Yunjin catches the four of you up on the most recent drama in her Law cohort. Jay arrives twenty minutes later, but it isn’t another hour before Jake shows up with the excuse that he was taking a nap.

“Someone would think you don’t sleep at night, with the amount of naps you take,” you say.

“Oh my God, I miss when you weren’t here,” Jake replies, flicking your forehead before promptly plopping himself down on the couch. “I was so hungover when I woke up. I had to sleep it off,” he explains as he grabs four cans of beer from his backpack. 

Chaewon always makes a point to ask how everyone’s spent their day, but today, she unfortunately starts with Sunghoon, so he doesn’t have any time to come up with anything believable other than the truth, which is exactly what he does—and when Jay asks, What, to the beach by yourself? under Minjeong’s heavy gaze, he has no choice but to say yes. He isn’t sure why it’s such a big deal that you spent the day with him, or why it needs to be kept a secret, but there must be a reason. He’ll find out later. When it’s your turn, you look straight into Sunghoon’s eyes as you say you spent the day at the library but didn’t get much work done. Everyone ignores Jake when he exclaims Boring! and Chaewon swiftly moves onto Jay.

But you don’t. 

Your eyes stay on Sunghoon, unflinchingly watching him, expression unreadable, and he finds himself unable to look away, even as he feels his face heat up and his stomach flip. Then you smile, a satisfied smirk like you got what you wanted, and shift your gaze to Jay, who’s going on and on about the first six episodes of Lost he binge-watched earlier and wondering why nobody had told him about this “masterpiece of a show” before. Sunghoon is too busy thinking about the way you’d looked at him and pondering all the reasons for it to listen carefully. He watched Lost when he was fourteen anyway.

All throughout the evening, as the seven of you eat Chaewon’s pasta dish (which she made entirely from scratch, and is probably one of the best things to have ever graced Sunghoon’s taste buds), drink, talk, and afterwards, play card games, every glance between you and Sunghoon feels like a secret conversation that only the two of you are privy to. No one except for Minjeong is aware that you spent the day just the two of you until now—and even she doesn’t know what it is you did. Within a day of knowing each other, you already share memories that are yours and no one else’s. Sunghoon is giddy with the knowledge, heart skipping every time your eyes meet, no matter how fleetingly. When you’re all saying goodbye, it takes everything in him not to hug you for an awkwardly long time and to tear himself away from you. 

He can hardly fall asleep that night.

--

For the entirety of the year you were gone, Sunghoon could only nod and smile while the others bemoaned your absence or commented on how much more fun it’d be if you were here (even Jake, after enough wine spritzers, would admit to missing you). He understood that the group dynamics might feel different to them without you around, but this particular set of people was all he knew, so he never minded it. It reminded him of people telling him how sad it must’ve been growing up without a father, trying to be empathetic, when he didn’t know how he could miss something he never had. 

But now that you’re here, he gets it. You add something to the group that he can’t quite put his finger on. It’s in your affectionate gestures towards Chaewon and Yunjin, in your shared sense of humor with Jay (which no one else seems to find funny, save for Sunghoon, sometimes), in your bickering with Minjeong and downright arguing with Jake. It’s a hackneyed expression, but you do light up a room—at least in Sunghoon’s opinion, you do. In your presence, everything feels not only more lively, but also more cohesive, like you were the missing piece of a puzzle. Like a historic work of art that has been returned to its rightful owner. 

Sunghoon just finds himself drawn to you, at times unable to keep his eyes off of you, and the only things keeping him from making a move are his inherent shyness and the eyes of your friends. He doesn’t want to mess up the friendship he has with anyone from the group, least of all Jake, just because he can’t keep it in his pants. He thought of Yunjin and Chaewon, how their relationship had gone smoothly from the beginning and posed no problem to the dynamic of the group, but he had no idea if this was replicable between you and him at all.

If he had to be honest, a big part of him was also just afraid you’d reject him.

Getting a read on you is hard, which doesn’t help. It’s been three weeks since the gang reunited, since that party where you met. The first semester of his second and your fourth year started a little bit over a week ago; Sunghoon sometimes worries that you think there is some big age gap between you and that you see him as a kid, even though, admittedly, two years is not such a huge difference. In those three weeks, there have been many encounters which could be seen as cases of flirting between the two of you—Sunghoon has noticed every single one of them and replayed each an embarrassing amount of times in his head. A hand carefully posited on his shoulder; prolonged eye contact; jokes whispered in his ear at a crowded house party; knees lightly touching at first, then pressed together during movie night. None of it ever fails to make Sunghoon’s heart flutter. You could breathe in his general direction and it’d make his heart beat fast enough to worry a cardiologist, so when you smile at him, it’s a small death every time.

And so he dares hope that his interest isn’t one-sided—although most of the time, he is so stuck between thinking none of it means anything and thinking every single thing you do is a sign that you like him, that he rarely knows what to think. And whenever you’ve paid him enough attention to make him believe it’s not all in his head, you do something that proves him wrong. Watching you interact with other people, he realizes that you keep good eye contact with everyone and that you’re just as touchy and playful with all of your friends. At parties, you hit it off with new people and catch up with old friends without so much as a hint of awkwardness. He watches as you talk to other guys, the same smile that has been making him weak for the past three weeks, directed towards them and not him. Sunghoon assumes you’re either really nice to everyone and oblivious to the fact that it could be seen as flirting, or you just flirt with everyone. 

In that sense, the two of you are complete opposites. Sunghoon, whose entire friend group hangs on the fact that he befriended Jay, who knew Jake, who knew you, Minjeong, Yunjin and Chaewon. Sunghoon who has spoken to maybe half of his hockey team outside of the locker rooms and the occasional party. Sunghoon who, outside of his usual friend group, has managed to make three other friends on his own in the year he’s been at university, because they had been put in a group project and magically hit it off enough to upgrade from classmates to friends. 

Then there’s you, who has to stop every thirty seconds at a party to say hi to someone you know. You, who still keeps in touch with the friends you made in a foreign country, even those who spoke broken English. You, who didn’t make Sunghoon feel like his crippling shyness was a problem when you first met. 

He doesn’t understand how everyone who meets you doesn’t instantly fall in love. 

Or maybe they do, and he’s just one of many vying for your heart. 

Tonight is one of the nights where all he can do is watch from afar as you interact with another man that he desperately wishes was him. With your lower back against the kitchen counter, drink in hand as you laugh with that other guy, eyes never leaving his face, it almost looks like someone has copied your time with Sunghoon at the costume party and pasted it onto this post-hockey game party. All you’re missing is a bright pink cowgirl hat and boots to match.

And yet, it’s his team jacket over your shoulders, his name and number on your back. Sunghoon shouldn’t feel nearly as jealous as he does.

So he does what any good friend would do, and blames Jay for reasons completely unwarranted—even now, days after receiving his advice, and hours after taking it, Sunghoon still can’t help but regret involving him at all. 

Initially, Sunghoon hadn’t wanted to tell anyone about his growing feelings for you—he’d thought that if he pushed them away and kept them to himself, they’d go away on their own. But clearly, they didn’t, seeing as how his stomach always twisted in nervous excitement at the prospect of seeing you and how he could never get through a conversation with you without blushing. So, quicker than he’d like to admit, he’d given in and told Jay about the day you’d spent at the beach and how felt about you now, thinking it was some big shameful secret that would render his friend flabbergasted. 

That was his first mistake. 

Jay wasn’t impressed. “Yeah, it’s been pretty obvious, dude,” he’d said through a mouthful of cheeseburger. It was after hockey practice, and they were sitting in the burger joint near the ice rink that had some of the best student deals in town. Jake was going on a Hinge date, and Sunghoon had lured Jay in with the promise of free food (Jay wanted to go home and game, but all Sunghoon needed to do to convince him was to say “I’ll pay for it”). 

“Obvious? How obvious? Does everyone know? Does Jake know?” Sunghoon asked, growing more agitated by the second.

“Jake is possibly the worst room-reader that has ever lived, so no, I don’t think he’s caught on. But the rest of us know. I mean, you look at her like a twelve-year-old with a crush on his English teacher,” Jay said, unceremoniously cramming fries into his mouth.

Sunghoon ignored the slightly humiliating remark, still preoccupied by the fact that he hadn’t been as discreet as he thought he had. He leant in towards Jay and dropped his voice to a whisper, even though the restaurant was practically empty, save for them and a group of rowdy middle school boys who were definitely not paying attention to them. “Do you think… does she know?”

Jay dropped his fist on the table in sudden annoyance, causing Sunghoon to jump back in his seat. “Now you’re acting like a twelve-year-old.” Before Sunghoon could defend himself and argue that he’s being completely rational, Jay launches into a surprisingly moving monologue. “It’s fine if you like her, there’s nothing to be embarrassed of. Everybody feels attraction towards other people, everybody gets crushes, it’s no big deal. Just talk to her. Worst case scenario, she doesn’t feel the same way, and you both move on, because you’re adults.”

There’s nothing worse than a friend being right about something you absolutely don’t want to hear. Sunghoon did feel like he had been carrying a horrible secret around, but Jay was spot-on: crushes are a very common, very human experience. And yet Sunghoon managed to feel like he was the only one who had ever had to go through this torture. “You say that like it’s easy,” he said, sulking.

“It is easy. You’re making it hard.”

“So what, your advice is just to confess to her?”

Jay rolled his eyes. “See? You’re saying confess like it’s some sin you have to repent for. Yeah, just tell her.”

“Just tell her,” Sunghoon repeated, looking at his friend like he was crazy. Jay just took another bite of his burger.

“Yeah, dude. It’s not even like you’ve known each other for a long time, so there’s no risk of ruining a friendship, or anything.”

“But do you even know if she feels the same way at all?”

Jay shrugged. “She hasn’t mentioned anything,” he said, and Sunghoon’s heart dropped in disappointment. “But it’s Y/N, she’ll be cool about it. And who knows, she might actually see something in you, for some godforsaken reason.”

Jay laughed at his own joke, and Sunghoon afforded him a chuckle. They moved on to other topics, but later, as they waited for Jay’s bus to come, he couldn’t help himself. “Do you think Jake will mind? If something happens with Y/N and me?”

Jay thought for a second. “I think he’d be more upset with her than with you, what with everything that happened with Heeseung... But knowing him, he probably won’t care as long as you aren’t weird in front of him.” He puts a hand on Sunghoon’s shoulder and shakes it gently. “Don’t let that stop you from making a move, okay? You’ll cross that bridge when you get to it.” His bus came then, so Sunghoon couldn't ask for more details about this Heeseung situation—he knew that there had been something between you and him which hadn’t ended particularly well, but no one ever really talked about it so he didn’t dare bring it up. All he knew was that it had been significant enough for Jay to mention it now, and for Jake to seem bothered every time it was mentioned.

He put all of that out of his head for the time being. In a way, he had just received Jay’s blessing; even if it scared him shitless, he could make a move. Perhaps not something as straightforward as Jay was suggesting, but something, at the very least. 

The first major hockey game of the season was that coming Friday. Sunghoon had an idea.

The morning of, he shot you a text. He tried to make it sound as nonchalant as he can, so that you wouldn’t know he spent close to an hour deleting, writing and pouring over a singular sentence. Can you meet me in front of the locker rooms 30 mins before the game? 

That was his second mistake.

You replied twenty minutes later, twenty minutes that Sunghoon spent questioning everything that had led up to this moment.

yn.sim i’ll be there!!

You even got there five minutes early. He was waiting for you, all decked out in his hockey uniform, save for the gloves and protective headgear. He was anxiously chewing on gum, heart doing somersaults inside his ribcage—a grin found his lips as soon as you appeared around the corner, the sight of you alleviating his nerves for a second, then doubling them when you came close. “Hey,” he said, voice soft and slightly trembling.

“Hey,” you simply replied, a smile on your face to match his as he took you in his arms. It was a hug that lasted a second longer than it should, but that also ended too early for his liking.

“Um, I only have a second, Coach will be wanting to give one of his pep talks,” he said when you separated. One quick glance back at the locker room doors behind him, then back at you. The tips of his ears burnt, and he couldn’t stop his eyes from furtively darting between your face and the floor. But he’d come this far, so he couldn’t back out now. He just had to get it over with. “Here,” he blurted out, holding out the letterman jacket he had been hiding behind his back. You grabbed it, eyeing him with amused suspicion at first, but surprise spreaded over your features as you unfurled the jacket.

“Your team jacket?” 

He couldn’t tell whether you were amazed or horrified. You stared wide-eyed at the jacket, at its dark green sleeves, at the four letters of his last name and the huge number 8 embroidered onto the back. Your surprise faded back into what he thought — what he hoped — was excitement as you looked at him. He scratched the back of his neck, feeling his face flush red. “Yeah, I just, you know… It’s the first big game of the year, and I thought it’d bring me good luck if a pretty girl was wearing my name…” he explained, repeating the words he’d practiced over and over, voice turning into more and more of a mumble as he spoke. He had planned on speaking with more confidence, but now, the fact that he could speak at all felt like a miracle.

A light giggle spilled out of your mouth. Sunghoon immediately took it for mockery and regretted every decision that had led him here. “Sorry, it was a silly idea, you don’t have to wear it if you don’t like it,” he said, reaching for the jacket. But you were quicker than him, hugging the thick bundle of fabric to your chest as you now beamed at him.

“Are you kidding? I love it,” you said, shrugging off your jacket and replacing it with his.

First, relief flooded his body, then pride and excitement — as you spun around and showed the jacket off — at seeing his name on your back, and his attempt at making a move being successful. At least, he thought it was clear what he meant by giving you his jacket to wear at his game—he could only hope you understood. “Well… I’m glad.” Your eyes met, and you both chuckled softly, gazes holding each other’s for a second too long. 

Two weeks ago, Sunghoon still would’ve been able to convince himself this was a fluke; that this was just another one of his crushes that a gentle breeze could blow away. Because after all, when Sunghoon fell in love, it usually went as quickly as it came. But at that moment, in front of the locker rooms, his mind solely on you and not the opening game of the season, he realized this was something else entirely. And whatever it was, he hadn’t felt it in a good long while.

He was terrified—but infinitely excited, too.

“Okay, I should probably head back in now,” he forced himself to say, but made no move to go.

“Okay.”

He paused. “Will you be cheering me on?”

Your smile widened. “Of course.”

He nodded slowly, upper body starting to turn away but feet still firmly planted on the ground. “Okay.” 

Another second passed, and just as he was about to actually walk away, you grabbed his hand. Before he could compute what was happening, you lifted your head and pressed a small kiss to his cheek. His hand was still in yours when you took a step back, and for once, it was you who looked sheepishly at the floor. “For good luck,” you explained. He had no time to reply—you were already walking away, only looking back once to wave and shoo him in the direction of the locker room. He chuckled and nodded, but waited until you were out of sight to head back into the locker room.

Inside the locker room, everyone was too focused on getting their head in the game to notice his giddy smile. Your lips had been warm and soft against his cheeks, a welcome repeat of that time at the costume party, but the quickness of it all had only made him want more. From that very first night he’d met you, the question of how your lips would feel on his had scarcely left his mind. This brought him a step closer to getting an answer, but also made his curiosity grow tenfold.

Thankfully, by the time his coach gathered them around for a last minute pep talk, he’d managed to put the distracting thoughts of you out of his head, at least temporarily—he’d need to play well, for himself and his team mostly, but impressing you was also a priority. 

As the captain, Heeseung said a few words. He reminded the team of how important this match was and went over the main strategy points. For the time being, Sunghoon was able to forget about his arguably unfounded resentment against the older boy and whatever it was he had to do with you. This was not the time for jealousy over someone he had no right to feel jealous over. 

A few minutes later, his members and those of the opposing team poured out onto the rink for warm-up. Sunghoon searched the crowd for your face—when he found it, you were already smiling wide and waving at him. His heart did something funny, but Jay punched his shoulder pad and he remembered what he was there for. He could get lost in the eyes of a pretty girl later, specifically when he’d destroyed the other team and shown her how good of a hockey player he was.

Every now and then as he skirted around the rink and did his stretches, he stole glances at you. They didn't last long, because every single time, you’d already be looking, as if your eyes never strayed from him. Knowing you were watching made him nervous at first, but by the end of warm-up, mainly because he didn’t have much of a choice, he’d turned those nerves into an ever stronger will to do well.

The moment the referee blew the whistle, and for the hour that followed, Sunghoon was locked in on one thing and one thing only: winning. He was only competitive when it came to hockey—he didn’t care about dying in an online battle game or losing to Jake at beer pong, but once he was on the rink, he had to win. Pride surged through him and filled every crevice of his aching limbs whenever he or one of his team members scored, and the feeling that came with a victory, with hugging his teammates in celebration or hearing the crowd cheer for them, was like nothing else he’d ever known. The other side of that coin meant that any loss was a tremendous disappointment. Getting beat at an important game could put him in a week-long funk. His sister had once carefully hinted at his self-esteem relying too much on his hockey performance, and although his first reaction had been to dismiss her, he knew she had poked at some truth there. But what could he do—on particularly lonely nights, he truly thought hockey was all he had going for him. 

To his overthinking nature, becoming so single-minded the second the whistle blows was a relief, a break from the stress of daily life. He didn’t have to worry about his next deadline or about what the guys on the team thought of him or about the inevitable phone call to his mom asking for more money for groceries. It was respite from the thoughts surrounding you that plagued him: how you felt about him, how you might react knowing what he felt for you, how Jake might react. Why Minjeong hadn’t wanted you to say anything that evening, but why Jay had told him to just go for it. Heeseung, whom he had to respect as the captain and an undeniably talented player, but also as someone who had had something to do with you, whether good or bad. All of it had been wildly bustling around Sunghoon’s mind, but once on the rink, all he had to concern himself with was the puck and getting it in the opposing team’s goal. 

And Sunghoon did just that—he scored the first goal of the game, another one in the second period, then a third during the eleventh hour, breaking the tie between the two teams. He smiled right at you after each one, just to make sure you had seen everything. He couldn’t quite describe how it felt to see you clap and cheer for him, jumping up-and-down, forming a megaphone with your hands around your mouth and yelling, “Go Sunghoon!” all while you wore his jacket. It was a separate kind of pride and satisfaction from the sort he’d get seeing anyone else cheer him on, for sure. 

The other team put up a good fight, getting in a few goals of their own and protecting their side well, but in the end, thanks to Sunghoon’s goal, it was his team that won. He took his helmet off and got his hair ruffled by half of his team, then shook hands with the other team, trying to contain his boastful smile—some ice hockey players flew off the handle very quickly, and starting a fight was the last thing he wanted.

Kids and local fans huddled by the barriers on each side of the player’s tunnel to get an autograph or a picture. People around here were weirdly attached to their university sport teams, and the athletes on teams that did particularly well — namely football and rugby — were sort of local celebrities. Their ice hockey team wasn’t quite at that stage yet, but they were placing better nationally with every year, and so the local interest had grown. More kids had started signing up for lessons, and their parents often brought them to home games. As Sunghoon chatted with men twice his age and took selfies with ten-year-olds, he tried to find you in the crowd, to no avail. He’d been hoping for a thumbs-up from you for a game well played, or even a hug, but you were nowhere in sight.

It wasn’t until half-an-hour later, after saying bye to all the fans that had waited after the game for them, listening to Heeseung and their coach congratulate them (but also remind them to not take anything for granted), showering and changing, that he got to check his phone.

chaewon we going k-bbq! u guys played well see u later at da party!!!!

Disappointment only had a second to sink to the bottom of his stomach. He’d barely finished reading the text when he was hoisted up by the shoulders. Two of his senior teammates, Soobin and Beomgyu, marched him towards the exit. “We are getting you wasted tonight, Park,” Beomgyu announced, a wide grin on his lips.

“I have a good feeling about this season,” Soobin added. Sunghoon looked back to find Jay and Jake simply shrugging and laughing at him.

Indeed, the second they got to the dorm where tonight’s party would be taking place, a beer was thrusted in his hand. It was only 7 p.m., still light outside, but that didn’t stop the team nor their friends that had come to the game. They sipped beer like it was water, so much so that two hours later, when the party started to grow, Sunghoon was already quite inebriated. It didn’t help that his cup was never empty for too long, and that he had the reassurance of being in his own dorm—it was the closest student building to the ice rink, and so was one of the prime spots for hockey parties. He could get as drunk as he wanted — or as Beomgyu wanted — and still get home in less than a minute. 

He somehow ended up in the corridor, part of a nonsensical conversation about candle-making with two guys he had recognized from one of his Phys Ed classes but could not for the life of him remember the names of. One had shared that candle-making was a big hobby of his, and it had made Sunghoon and the other unknown man lose their minds—Sunghoon had never realized how curious about candle-making he was, but he couldn’t stop asking questions. It sounded great. Maybe he’d have to pick up candle-making, too. 

Eventually, he headed back to the kitchen for a new drink. For the nth time this evening, he thought of texting you, then immediately thought against it. He wanted to know when you’d get here, but he didn’t want you to know that he wanted to know—although as the night deepened and his intoxication rose, he could remember less and less why that would be such a bad thing. He stepped into the kitchen, and going from the brightly-lit corridor to the dark kitchen with flashing neon lights made him so dizzy that he made a beeline for the couch, needing to sit down for a second.

And that was when he saw you.

Lower back against the counter, talking with a guy he’s never seen in his life. You look like you’re having fun—smiling, laughing, keeping eye contact with that guy. You’re still wearing his jacket. It should probably reassure him—his name is literally on you, what does it matter that you’re speaking to someone else? But instead, all he can think is that wearing his jacket must mean nothing to you. What was basically a confession from him seems to have fallen on deaf ears.

His friends’ words over the past year come back to him—how much you flirt with people, how it wasn’t a rare occurrence for you to go home with a guy after a party and never speak of him ever again. Was this what was happening here?

He knows it’s unreasonable, but in his drunken state, he takes it as a betrayal. Like he can’t believe you haven’t read his mind, figured out how he felt about you, and decided to give special attention to him and him only. He’s only able to take it for so long—two minutes later, he trudges out of the room, walking right past you but not looking your way.

His new mission is to find his friends, but before he’s done much searching, he hears his name being called out. Of course, he recognizes your voice immediately, but he doesn’t quite believe it until he looks over his shoulder, and there you are, face glowing and smiling wide. You’ve clearly had a few drinks, but he likes to think you’d be just as happy to see him if you were sober. He turns around to face you, watching as you narrow the distance between the two of you. He’s not in a much better state—the simple thought that you had come after him makes him forget any sort of resentment he held against you a second ago. When you reach him, he holds on to one of your arms, as much an effort to stabilize his swaying body as an excuse to touch you.

“Hey,” he simply says. He’s always at a loss for words around you, so scared he’ll say the wrong thing that he ends up barely speaking at all. He’s only sober enough to know that with all the cheap beer and vodka running through his blood, his odds of making a fool of himself are even bigger. 

“Hey. I was wondering where you were.” 

“You’re the one who came late.”

“I know!” you exclaim. “I wanted to come right away, but Chaewon was hell-bent on getting her Korean barbecue.”

“She does get cranky when she hasn’t had pork belly in a while.” Sunghoon feels like he’s just won the Nobel Prize when you let out a laugh. “Was the food good at least?”

“It was amazing. So worth getting here late,” you joke.

He rolls his eyes playfully. “I see how it is.” Then, before he can stop himself, he adds, “Then we should go there together next time.” 

Your smile changes, turning from cheerful to surprised, but amused—almost mischievous. You take a step forward. Sunghoon gulps; the gap between the two of you was narrow to begin with. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

Usually, this type of straight-forwardness would have him stuttering, but drunk Sunghoon is a man sober Sunghoon barely recognizes in the morning. “Yeah. I am. Is that okay?”

You nod. “Mh-hm.”

“Nice. Okay.” For a second, you just look at each other. Another thing about drunk Sunghoon: he doesn’t feel like prolonged eye contact will make him spontaneously combust. He actually quite enjoys it. He also stumbles, even when all he’s doing is trying to stand straight. “You’re still wearing my jacket,” he eventually says, reaching out to take the end of your sleeve between his fingers.

You stretch out your arms and appraise the team jacket as if you only remembered you had it on. “Yeah. It’s comfy.”

“It looks good. You look good.”

“You’re not quite sober, are you?” you ask suddenly. 

“Is it that obvious?” When you nod, he giggles, lowering his head in defeat. “The guys made me drink so much.”

“You did score three goals after all. And you looked good doing it.”

At the praise, he stands up to his full height and places his palms behind his head in a victorious pose. “I did, didn’t I?” he says, looking off in the distance with a self-assured look that makes you burst into laughter. He drops the confident facade and laughs along with you, until somebody bumps into him and sends him stumbling forwards. If you weren’t standing there to catch him, he’d probably have fallen flat on his face. But even though he doesn’t fall, he feels all the alcohol catching up to him and threatening to come right back out where it came from. You hold him for a second, and just as you ask him if he’s okay, he says, “I think I’m gonna throw up.”

You sigh. “Okay. Where’s your room?” 

Arm under his shoulders, you let Sunghoon lean most of his weight on you as you guide him towards the elevator. It’s just one floor, but you said you didn’t want to risk the stairs with him. “Hey, who was that guy with you in the kitchen? That guy in the striped shirt? You guys seemed real chummy back there…” he mumbles as you help him out of the elevator. Even on the verge of sickness, Sunghoon is preoccupied by more important things.

“Oh, that was Jaemin.”

“Jaemin,” he echoes, more venom in his voice than needed.

You look at him, taking in his disgruntled expression, and chuckle. “Yeah, he’s having some problems with his boyfriend. He asked me for advice.”

Sunghoon almost freezes in his tracks, but you’re there to keep him walking towards his room. “Oh. He has a boyfriend.”

“Yeah…” He can tell you want to tease him about it, but thankfully, you say nothing. He’s made it clear he had gotten jealous of your gay friend—no need to spell it out in so many words. Once you reach his studio (which he’d stupidly left unlocked), he heads straight for the bathroom, locking himself in, half out of embarrassment, half because he really doesn’t want you to see him throw up. Talk about a turn-off. He leans over the toilet bowl, waiting for the vomit to rise, but nothing comes. He waits, and waits, mind completely empty, head spinning even though he’s sitting very still, when suddenly a knock on the door pulls him out of his stupor.

“Sunghoon? It’s been ten minutes. Everything okay?”

He doesn’t say anything, just unlocks the door for you. Without realizing, he fell asleep like a bored teenager in math class. “All right,” he hears you say.

He’s surprised you’re able to carry him out of the bathroom—if he was a deadweight before, by now, rigor mortis has practically set in. Despite his small student room, crossing it takes you an entire minute, and when you reach his bed, you all but let him flop on the mattress. He doesn’t mind. As soon as his body hits the bed, he feels quite snug, curling against his blanket. You start to unbutton his shirt, probably just thinking he’s already fallen asleep and wanting to make him more comfortable, but your fingers freeze when he starts giggling. Shoulders shaking with unbridled laughter, he feels as delighted as a five-year-old who just said a naughty word and made all his drunk relatives laugh at the family dinner. 

“I know I looked really hot tonight, but can we wait until I’m sober?” he asks, slurring his words slightly and keeping his eyes shut, despite the shit-eating smirk on his lips. You hit him on the chest but it just makes him laugh more.

“Bold of you to assume I’d still hit when I’ve just had to peel you off your toilet seat.” He lets you finish helping him out of his button-down. 

“Wouldn’t you?” he asks. He tries to look at you, but his eyes don’t quite open all the way, and they don’t focus properly, due to a strong mix of alcohol and inappropriate thoughts. Of you, specifically. His body feels suddenly very heavy, his want for you weighing him down into the mattress. The room is dark, your face illuminated only by the light in the bathroom and the glow of the street lights outside. You always look pretty, but your beauty is especially breath-taking right now, Sunghoon thinks. He wants to reach out and touch your face, wants to trace your jawline and know what your skin would feel like against his fingers. He doesn’t realize he’s actually doing it until he hears you inhale shakily.

The expression in your eyes is unreadable, and quickly gone, replaced by an annoyed squint. You grab his wrist gently, setting it back down next to him. “I’m gonna make you some ramen. You need to sober up, and you haven’t had dinner, have you?”

Sunghoon shakes his head. He feels rejected, and it makes him inordinately sad.

For five minutes, he watches as you rummage around his cupboards for a pack of ramen, fill a pot with water and bring it to a boil. His thoughts float back to your day at the beach, memories that he’s preciously held onto for the past few weeks. You running around on the sand, opening yourself up to him and letting him open himself up to you, holding his hand on the bus. That day, he’d really thought it would be the beginning of something new; but as time passed, he became less and less sure of himself. He’s scared it might’ve just been a fluke, and that he’d have to destroy the castle he’d built in his head. He’s seen you almost every day since, but it’s never been the same. And even if your eyes met unexpectedly sometimes, or if you went out of your way to sit next to him during movie nights, he can’t let himself go on with so few signs. Jay was right—he had to be clear about his feelings, otherwise this would go on forever. Even if it didn’t feel like it, the Earth would continue spinning on its axis if you didn’t reciprocate.

“I’ve missed you.”

You pause in your movements. “Missed me? But we’ve seen each other every day,” you say after a few seconds, still facing away from him. Your voice is softer than he’s heard it before, almost unsure of itself.

“No,” Sunghoon whines, frowning. He can barely keep his eyes open—he wishes you could read his mind so he wouldn’t have to explain, but alas. “I miss you—the you from the beach. When it was just me and you. It’s not the same with the others around.”

Silence falls over the room again. Sunghoon wonders if you’re just going to ignore what he said, until you take a deep breath, and walk back to his bed. You crouch in front of him and take both of his hands in yours. Electricity flows from where your hands touch to the rest of his body. He suddenly feels a lot more awake.

“It’s just the two of us now,” you whisper. 

Sunghoon nods. “I know. It’s nice.”

You smile. It might be the alcohol playing tricks on him, but Sunghoon swears there’s a hint of sadness in your eyes. One of your hands comes up to his hair. You thread your fingers gently through it, pushing it away from his forehead, then bring your hand down to the side of his face, your palm cupping it tenderly. Sunghoon lets himself lean into your warm touch. With his eyes closed, the darkness surrounding him makes this feel like a dream—he basks in the moment so as not to let a second of it go to waste.

“Do you wanna do something just us two this week?” you ask softly. His eyes shoot open—he needs to be sure this is really happening. He nods again, fervently this time, and it makes you chuckle. “Okay.”

“Just us two?” 

“Just us two.”

He relaxes once more. He guides your hand towards his mouth and presses his lips against your palm. Something shifts in your eyes—Sunghoon thinks the opportunity to finally kiss you has arisen, but as soon as his gaze drops to your lips, you’re back on your feet. “Let’s eat some ramen, shall we?” you ask as you head back towards the kitchen. Sunghoon tries his best (and probably fails) to not let his disappointment show.

There’s no dining table to speak of, only a low table near Sunghoon’s bed, on which you set down a wooden board and the steaming pot of spicy noodles. You hand him a pair of chopsticks and a spoon, and tell him to eat. Neither of you say much for a while, and Sunghoon grows redder and redder under your watchful gaze. He asks if you want any a few times, but you always turn him down. The silence quickly gets a little too unbearable for him, and he’s got a question burning the tip of his tongue anyway. Now’s as good a time as ever to ask it.

“Something’s been bugging me recently, actually…” You wait for him to go on. “So, at the costume party, right?” You nod. “You said there was only one person you wanted to kiss… Did you mean me?”

You tilt your head, looking at him like you’re trying to figure out whether he’s joking or not. “Yeah, Sunghoon… I meant you. Who else?”

He’s only half-relieved. “So why won’t you kiss me now?”

To his surprise, you smile. “Because you’re drunk.”

Confusion fogs Sunghoon’s brain. Is that all you’re worried about? Is his blood alcohol level the only thing stopping you from kissing him? “But I-I’m fine. I give you consent to kiss me, Y/N.” He’s dead serious, so when you laugh, it only frustrates him further.

“Finish your food, Sunghoon. We’ll see about kissing later.”

He sighs. Later he could deal with. “Fine. But I’ll hold you to it, okay?” he says, pointing a menacing chopstick at you.

“Okay.”

But Sunghoon can’t keep quiet for long—ten seconds later, he’s remembered another question he’s been dying to ask. He continues drinking his soup in an attempt to appear nonchalant. “So what happened between you and Heeseung?”

The question takes you so off-guard, you look like you would’ve done a spit-take had you been drinking water. “That’s-you know about that?”

“Well, not much, that’s why I’m asking.”

You scoff. “Why do you want to know? It’s boring.”

At those words, Sunghoon whips his head up to look at you. “It’s not boring!” he exclaims, perhaps a tad too vigorously. “Anything that has to do with you is interesting to me.”

Finally, the corners of your lips rise. Sunghoon hated the ten seconds in which you weren’t smiling. “Well, there isn’t much to say, anyway. We had a thing when we were in second year, I caught feelings and wanted more, and he didn’t. The end.”

Sunghoon freezes, staring at you with his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth agape. He then sets his cutlery down neatly next to the pot of ramen and clasps his hands together like he’s in a business meeting. “So you’re telling me that he had the opportunity to make you his girlfriend and he just… didn’t?”

You shrug. “Basically, yeah.”

He hits the bedsheets next to him, huffing out in annoyance. “What an idiot.”

“He sure is,” you say. You smile to yourself as you grab Sunghoon’s spoon and try some of the broth. He wonders whether anything lies behind that smile. “But it happened a while ago. Don’t be weird with him on my account. He’s still your captain.”

Sunghoon thinks for a second. “Can I side-eye him once in a while? Or not pass him the puck during practice?”

“Sure,” you reply, laughing. You swiftly move on to other topics as Sunghoon slurps the last of his noodles, asking him about the beginning of the party and just how much his teammates made him drink. He’s recounting the shot contest they held, which Mark won with an impressive seven shots of tequila in a row — Sunghoon hopes the boy is okay now — when your phones buzz at the same time. Minjeong’s name appears on your screen, Jay’s on his, both asking where you are.

“Should we head back now?” you offer, although Sunghoon, wishfully perhaps, detects a trace of reluctance in your voice. “You look like you’ve sobered up a bit, seeing as you’re able to string more than two sentences together.”

“I wasn’t that bad!”

“I should’ve filmed you.”

It’s one a.m. when you head back down, and the party is in full swing. Pop music blasts through someone’s JBL speaker in the shared kitchen, the hallways are more crowded than the subway at rush hour, just as full of hockey fans celebrating their team’s win as students who just wanted an excuse to party, and every window is open to alleviate some of the stuffiness. They probably have another hour left before the dorm residents who decided not to join in the festivities call campus police on them.

Sunghoon is relieved to find that Jake is off with other team members, reaching levels of drunkenness that will most definitely be regretted in the morning. Technically, he hasn’t done anything wrong—he simply let you nurse him back to sobriety after he almost regurgitated his pre-game protein bar and three beers all over your nice shirt. Chaewon and Yunjin are busy making out in a corner, their lack of decorum only increasing when they’ve been drinking, but Jay and Minjeong eye you suspiciously upon seeing the two of you arrive together. You explain what happened so casually that they don’t question it any further.

Chaewon and Yunjin only tear themselves off of each other when a Beyoncé song starts playing, and they drag all four of you to the makeshift dancefloor, which is really just three meters away in the middle of the kitchen. Sunghoon is practically all sobered up by now, but he’s loosened up enough not to feel self-conscious with every step he takes; the fact that you look so happy, dancing with him and laughing at his silly moves, is a considerable bonus. He won’t drink any more, not wanting to risk embarrassing himself further in front of you, and Jay, as the group’s self-proclaimed health guru, probably had his last beer around nine p.m., but the girls, each of them with a cup of suspicious transparent liquid in hand, are getting drunker by the minute—and so is Jake, who has now joined you all on the dancefloor, if his inability to stand straight is anything to go by. Sunghoon assumes you’re also done with alcohol for the night, until you turn to him in the middle of a song no one has heard since 2015 and tell him you’re going to get a drink.

“Okay!” he simply answers, and for a good thirty seconds, basks in the blissful satisfaction of knowing he was the one you informed of your whereabouts. That is, until he realizes a minute later that it was probably a covert invitation for him to come along, which he totally missed. But when he looks over at the counter where all the drinks are, his heart drops—Heeseung is standing in front of you, pouring gin and lemonade into your cup. A flurry of emotions course through Sunghoon, emotions he has no idea what to do with, because he’s not sure they’re entirely warranted. He’s angry that Heeseung is talking to you, after what he did, confused that you’d let him; but mostly, he’s jealous. But he knows it’s only because he has no guarantee that you like him, and that you won’t go off with Heeseung, despite having just talked about how you were over him.

Wait—is that really what you said? You told Sunghoon that what happened with Heeseung didn’t bother you anymore, which doesn’t necessarily mean you wouldn’t go back to him, given the chance. 

Before he can think it over a second time, Sunghoon heads over to where you and Heeseung stand. He places himself right behind you, reaching for a bottle of Coke on your side and pouring himself a drink.

“Oh, hey, Hoon,” his team captain says, clearly surprised to see him there and looking so discontented. Sunghoon can’t remember whether they’ve ever been close enough for Heeseung to call him by his nickname. “Having fun?”

“Yep,” he curtly replies, avoiding eye contact with either of you and looking out at the crowd of party-goers instead. He can feel your gaze, heavy on his face, can see the knowing smirk slowly rising on your lips. How was it that you could see right through him so easily?

“Too much dancing made you thirsty?” you ask, taking a drink from your cup and hiding your smile behind it.

He glares at you, more annoyed that his attempt at subtly sussing out what you and Heeseung were doing together was shut down so quickly than anything else. “Yep,” he repeats.

“You guys know each other?” the older boy asks, eyes darting between the two of you.

“Jake introduced us,” Sunghoon quickly answers. To his surprise, this makes Heeseung chuckle.

“Jay, Sunghoon, me… Wow, do you meet all your friends through your brother, Y/N?” he asks jokingly. Immediately, so many alarm bells ring in Sunghoon’s head—the implication that you and Heeseung are friends, the fact that he put himself and Sunghoon in the same bag, and above all, that teasing, almost flirtatious tone of his. 

He’s horrified to find you rolling your eyes playfully and saying, “I have other friends, thanks,” in a tone far too similar. At that moment, Minjeong starts yelling about how much she loves everyone in this room but particularly “you guys,” pointing to Jake, Jay, Minjeong and Chaewon, and “you guys, too!” screaming over the music as she points to you and Sunghoon.

“There’s one of them,” you say, half-amused, half-exasperated. “We should probably go check on her. See you around, Heeseung.”

“Right. See you, Y/N. Sunghoon.” 

Back to no-nickname basis, apparently.

Your group’s indicator of when it’s time to go home is when Minjeong starts one of her “I-love-my-friends-so-much” rants—if she’s that drunk, everyone else must be wasted. Indeed, Chaewon and Yunjin are holding onto each other to keep themselves from falling down, and Jake is unable to keep his head up. You, Sunghoon and Jay herd your friends outside and wait for Jake’s Uber, making sure to get him safely inside and to tip the driver generously for his pains. Jay lives nearby yours and the girls’ flat, and Sunghoon, ever the gentleman, walks you all home.

“Just ‘cause you and Jay might need a hand getting these three home,” he tells you. Yunjin, Chaewon and Minjeong are currently running around on the road, pointing and laughing at random shop names, and Jay is yelling at them to get back on the sidewalk.

“Mh-hm.”

“And it’ll be good to completely sober up before going to bed.”

“Right.”

There’s no use putting up a front with you—he’s an open book and you’re an avid reader. You don’t need to say anything to make it clear that you know it’s just an excuse to spend more time with you.

“You know, I told you not to be weird with Heeseung,” you say, gently punching him in the arm.

“Was I weird?” he asks, knowing fully well he hadn’t acted at all like he usually did around his captain. 

“You basically only spoke to let Heeseung know we’re friends. You were making yourself all tall and looking mysteriously out into the distance instead of at us.”

“But I am tall and mysterious,” he says, pride coursing through him as it always does when you laugh at one of his jokes.

“You’re probably the least mysterious person I know, Hoon.”

Hoon. How much sweeter that name sounds coming from you over anyone else.

“So you agree that I’m tall?”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a grin on your face. A win is a win. “That’s just a fact.”

Sunghoon smiles victoriously. “I’ll take a fact. But I’m sorry if I was acting weird… I just wanted to make sure he wasn’t bothering you.”

“Heeseung is always bothering me,” you say with a sigh. “He comes up to me like this at every party. He’s just asking how I’ve been, but it’s like he’s sussing out whether or not he’s still got a chance.”

“Do you need me to beat him up? Threaten him? Dox him?”

Even though Sunghoon was only half-joking, you burst out laughing, hard enough for Minjeong to whip around and shout, “What are you laughing about?” as if you had offended her personally. At least Jay is there to make her turn around and focus on walking straight.

“I appreciate the offer, but that won’t be needed. I just don’t like talking about it, ‘cause it’s really not that big a deal anymore. It feels like digging up old bones, you know?”

Sunghoon shrugs. “I’d commit grave robbery with you.”

“You-what?”

“Nevermind. We obviously don’t have to talk about it, but I’m curious.”

You sigh. “I guess it’d make sense for you to know about this.” Sunghoon thinks he sees something like panic flash across your features, but it’s so quick and such a rare expression on you that he’s not sure whether he just imagined it. “You know-just ‘cause everyone else is aware of it, and everything,” you quickly explain.

“Sure.”

“I just… I’m sure Heeseung is a nice guy when it comes to other things, but what the girls and I have concluded is that he’s a bit of an attention whore, you know. When it comes to girls. We fooled around for a while, and he never made it official, even when I made it pretty clear that that was what I wanted. But every time we saw each other after that, he’d flirt with me like nothing had happened. I fell for it at first and flirted back, thinking he had changed his mind… but he really just wanted to make sure I was still into him.”

“Looking for validation,” Sunghoon says.

“Exactly. And when I realized that, I stopped giving it to him. I was getting tired of him anyway, saying the same thing every time. But now, I entertain him for a couple of minutes before I walk away. I shut him down before he gets a chance to do it to me.”

“That’s smart.”

“I know,” you say, smiling. “I understand the need for validation, but he won’t be getting any from me.”

Jay bravely handles the three drunkards the whole way home, letting you and Sunghoon hang behind and carry on talking. You reach the boy’s apartment first, and yours five minutes later. But when you reach your front door, Minjeong announces she needs to talk to Sunghoon. “Privately,” she emphasizes.

You give Sunghoon an amused look and shrug as if to say “She’s your problem now.” He doesn’t have time to protest before you’ve bid him goodnight and disappeared behind the door, Yunjin and Chaewon in tow, yelling good night at Sunghoon like they’re not going to see him for months. 

Minjeong places her palms flat onto Sunghoon’s torso and looks right at him—to the best of her ability, at least, considering she’s having a hard time focusing her eyes. “Sunghoon,” she says gravely.

“Minjeong?”

“Listen, there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you,” she says, slurring her words. “You know I love Y/N, she’s amazing…”

“Yeah, she is,” Sunghoon says firmly—already, he can tell where this is going, and he doesn’t like it.

“But she’s not the best with relationships.”

“What do you mean?”

Minjeong’s hands drop by her sides and she exhales deeply. “I’ve just never seen her in a committed relationship in the-in the almost four years I’ve known her. She never lets things get serious. She’s just so afraid of being hurt, Hoon, and I-” 

A hiccup escapes Minjeong’s lips as tears start pooling in her eyes. Sunghoon has only ever seen Minjeong cry when drunk—even movies that had him sobbing barely made her eyes water. Even if she isn’t in her right state of mind, he knows it means this must be important to her. He holds her arms and tries to put on the most reassuring tone he can. “But I wouldn’t hurt her.”

“No, I know that. I’m scared you’d get hurt. I don’t want things to become weird between all of us.”

Sunghoon shakes his head. “Minjeong, what-that wouldn’t happen.”

“But it will!” she exclaimed. “If something happens with you and her, and it doesn’t work out the way you want it to, it’ll make things awkward-”

“If that happens,” he interrupts, “I’ll deal with it. I won’t make it your guys’ problem. Y/N and I are adults, okay?”

“You’re like, nineteen…”

“Yeah, whatever. Don’t worry about it, okay? It’ll be fine.” He takes a step back and opens the door for her to get in. 

She’s only on the first stair when she turns back around. “But, Hoon-” she tries, though he cuts her off.

“Minjeong, I promise-”

“Just don’t rush into anything, okay?”

“Okay.”

“And don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Go inside.” 

She complies, giving him one last look before climbing the stairs to her apartment. Sunghoon closes the door behind her, a heavy sigh leaving his lips.

--

Sunghoon is on his way home from hockey practice when his phone buzzes with a text from you.

yn are you still up for doing something this week?

He almost throws his phone in the air in celebration, as if it was a graduation cap. His Sunday was spent going back-and-forth between lapidating himself for his drunken stupidity, memories, rough as stones, hitting him in the face every time he thought of what he said and how he acted, and congratulating himself for having finally made his feelings for you somewhat clearer. Hopefully, you now know he isn’t just awkward and silent around new people—well, he is, but it’s worse with you.

She never lets things get serious.

Minjeong’s warnings echo in his head as he types a positive — although not over-enthusiastic, ‘cause that’d be uncool — answer, but he dismisses them easily. Perhaps he shouldn’t; Sunghoon is, after all, incredibly serious about any and all romantic encounters. The girl at the grocery store who reached for the same red bell pepper as him was the most serious thing to him in the world for a good ten minutes; all of his school crushes were of utmost importance to him, however long they had lasted.

So this? This is capital-s Serious. But therein lies the problem; he’s so serious about you that he’d let you not make it serious. If Minjeong is right, and you’re not planning on taking this nearly as far as he wishes for it to go, he can already tell he’ll just let you. He’ll probably be happy you wanted anything to do with him at all. 

He has ways of reassuring himself, of convincing himself he isn’t a totally lost cause. Because when Sunghoon falls in love — and he had an inkling this was what this was — it usually goes as quickly as it came. Who’s to say this time next week he won’t have completely moved on? Maybe this date that he’s agreed to will go horribly wrong, you’ll be rude to the waiter, you’ll spill tomato sauce all over your shirt, and the flame in his heart will be put out. Easy as that.

You decide to meet on Wednesday evening, two days from now. Sunghoon suggests a Japanese restaurant he likes, a place he had gone to with his mom and sister when they had dropped him off at university before his first year, and that he knows is nice enough for a date but won’t burn a hole through his wallet.

Seeing you at the library the day before is a real thrill. Nobody but you knows of your plans—at least not until he caves in and tells Jay about it, who congratulates him with a roll of his eyes and a pat on the head. All of your eye contact feels loaded with the kind of complicity that comes with sharing a secret. As much as he would love boasting about it to every soul who’d listen, this secrecy electrifies him—it binds the two of you with something much more real than before. At least, more real than Sunghoon’s imagination and one-sided feelings. He knows that your text wasn’t in any way a confession of your own feelings for him, but it’s a step in the right direction.

In the few hours before your reservation at seven p.m., Sunghoon spends so much time thinking about the date that he’s almost late for it. He thinks about his expectations, then tries to get rid of them; he comes up with ideas of what your expectations might be, remembers Minjeong’s words, dismisses them, remembers them again; he goes through scenarios upon scenarios of everything that might go wrong and everything that might go spectacularly well. He ends up with less than twenty minutes to get ready, but manages to arrive at the restaurant a minute before you.

When he sees you approaching, Sunghoon feels like one of those boys in Disney movies as they watch their girlfriend coming down the stairs in her prom dress. You’re not wearing an over-the-top poofy purple dress, but the effect is the same—his eyes are glued on you with every step you take towards him.

You grab him by the arm and lead him into the restaurant as soon as you reach him. He’s too busy taking in your appearance to be bothered by it. “Don’t look at me like that,” you chide as you wait for waiting staff to seat you. He’d actually think you were mad at him if it wasn’t for the small smile playing on your lips.

“Like what?”

“Like what you’re doing right now! You’re staring.”

Realization slowly dawns on him; your gazes have made him lose his composure too many times for him not to know what being flustered looks like. He’d be lying if the fact that it was you in this tight spot and not him didn’t heavily stroke his ego. 

“Why wouldn’t I? You look beautiful,” he says, dropping his voice to a whisper so that the approaching waitress can’t hear. Her presence saves you from responding verbally, but as she brings you to your table, you pinch his arm lightly as if to say Be on your best behavior—although Sunghoon would argue this was his best behavior.

You have trouble making up your mind about the food—you want to try everything on the menu. Sunghoon tentatively offers to order a bunch of dishes and share them. “It’s what my family always does at the restaurant, just try as much as you want and take the leftovers to go. We never ate out very often because my mom would spend so much money every time,” he recollects, smiling fondly.

“That actually sounds like a dream. My parents would never do that. It was always just eat what you got, but I’m unable to look at someone else’s food and not want to try it. It honestly should just be common practice to share dishes at the restaurant.”

Sunghoon thinks he could get down on one knee right then and there. Whenever they went out to eat, the boys would roll his eyes at him when he stole bites of their food. But you—you’re like him. He knows he’s prone to over-exaggeration, but he can’t help but feel like if you understand each other on this, you must understand each other at a molecular level.

He had expected a level of awkwardness to your date, at least at the beginning — God knows the moments in which he doesn’t feel like a mumbling fool in front of you are few and far between — but to his surprise, everything goes smoothly. There is no uncomfortable silence, all his jokes miraculously land, even the lousy ones, and you both laugh and talk and share sushi and pork cutlets like it’s the most natural thing in the world, which perhaps it is. His attempts at flirting are well-received and he only turns violently red twice when you compliment him and smile at him in a particularly pretty way.

It’s that day at the beach all over again. Always on the same page, you dip in and out of topics with a synergy he has rarely felt before. Sunghoon realizes it must be the presence of others, rather than you yourself, that makes him feel like he can’t act the way he wants to around you, makes him so nervous. Save for the moments where you make his heart flutter like a thousand butterflies’ wings, he actually feels quite at ease with you, all things considered. Of course, he still tries — and fails — to look cool for you, but he knows it comes from a place within himself rather than because you make him feel as though he has to meet a certain standard. Surprisingly, he can be totally himself, and it seems to be enough for you.

He loves his friends. He wouldn’t trade them for the world. But he’s not sure he won’t have moments where he’ll wish nothing more than for them all to go away and leave the two of you be.

You eat until you can’t anymore and are still left with enough food for another full meal. You only let him get the bill once he’s promised that next time will be on you. If it means there’ll be a next time, he’s more than happy with making that promise. The sun has set when you exit the restaurant. Sunghoon shivers as he steps outside, the temperature having gone down by at least four degrees in the last two hours.

You grab his hand; it warms him right up.

Your apartment is a thirty-minute bus ride away, but Sunghoon offers to walk you home. Anything to spend more time with you.

He spends the first few minutes of the walk worrying about his hand, whether it’s too clammy, whether it’s holding yours right, but he eventually relaxes into the touch. When a particularly chilly gust of wind blows, you drop his hand and hold onto his arm instead, inching closer to him for more warmth.  He only drank lemonade with his meal, but he feels blissfully light-headed.

Silence only arrives when you reach your doorstep. You stand in front of each other, Sunghoon looking down at his feet, you gazing out at the empty street. He knows this is the moment where he is supposed to kiss you. If there was a step-by-step guide on how to date — there probably is, but Sunghoon hasn’t resorted to such loser-like measures yet — this would probably be the moment where it would be written to just kiss her, you idiot. But nerves get the best of him.

At least, you’re there to save the day. You direct your gaze towards him, a bashful smile playing on your lips. “So… are you gonna kiss me now?” you ask, essentially reading his mind. 

He reacts immediately. “Y-yep. Yes. I am.” Heart racing, he takes a step towards you as he rests his hands on your waist. Then he changes his mind, and brings one hand up to your cheek. There’s an eyelash that has fallen below your eye; he brushes it out of the way with his thumb before leaning in and pressing his lips against yours.

In all of his late-night scenarios and daydreams of kissing you, he had never imagined something as good as this. You find your rhythm within seconds. It’s slow, almost hesitant, yet so tender, it makes Sunghoon’s heart ache. As your lips move against each other in perfect sync, as your hands find their way around Sunghoon’s neck, he realizes he should have known — this will not go away as quickly as it came.

Only when you grab a fistful of his hair, making him react viscerally and wrap his arm around your waist to bring you closer to him, does he remember where the two of you are. He leans back, then almost passes out when you chase his lips and press a shorter but just as sweet kiss there. He commits this view to memory—the smile on your lips, the glow on your face, the haziness in your eyes.

“Do you wanna come up?”

“Yes,” he replies immediately, and it makes you laugh. You grab his hand and lead him up the stairs and into your apartment.

“Are the girls in?” he asks as you lock the front door.

“Minjeong is at karaoke with her school friends, and Yunjin and Chaewon are at a dinner party somewhere.”

“Minjeong karaokes?”

“Get enough G&Ts in her and she’ll do anything.”

You turn on a small lamp in your room and take off your jacket. Sunghoon has been in your apartment before, but never in your room—at some point, he’ll spend an hour observing every photograph and trinket in detail, asking you about every backstory, but right now, he’s got more important things to tend to. His heart beats uncontrollably as you shut the door to your room and walk towards him, eyes gazing deeply into his. The corners of your lips rise when you tug at the bottom of his sweatshirt, a clear indicator that you want it off. He wastes no time in obliging.

The air is buzzing with electricity when your lips find each other again. You’re both more confident this time around, and so the kiss is deeper, your touches bolder. Everything happens quickly—one second, you’re standing in the middle of your room; the next, you’re laying on your bed, Sunghoon underneath you. 

“You know,” he says between kisses, “I’d really planned on being a gentleman and not going up to your room after the first date…”

Your lips move from his lips to his jawline, warm and soft against his skin. Sunghoon closes his eyes and lets out a low hum of approval. “I’m glad you changed your mind,” you whisper, lips brushing against his neck as you speak. “And since we’re onto confessions, I can finally say I’ve been wanting to do this since we met.”

This information sends his mind reeling. Not once had he been sure of how you felt about him — he even remembers you saying no to a kiss — and here you are, saying you’ve been wanting to kiss him since the beginning, just like he had. 

“You’re me,” he replies breathlessly.

“Hm?”

“I mean, me too.”

You pause your kisses to giggle, a sound so soft and intimate it has Sunghoon melting impossibly more. “You’re me?”

Unfortunately, he is too preoccupied by you to put a filter between the weird, half-formed thoughts in his brain and the words that leave his mouth. “Don’t question it,” he says, a smile audible in his voice, before moving his head and catching your lips. If he couldn’t stop himself from saying odd things, he could at least distract you from them.

Sunghoon thinks he’s doing a good job keeping himself together, until you roll your hips against his. It’s barely anything, but it sends waves of pleasure and anticipation through his body. His grip on your waist tightens, and when you repeat the motion, his hands sneakily find their way down your back and under your dress. Palms splayed against your ass, he brings you down closer to him. The second you moan into the kiss, he’s a goner. 

After that, it doesn’t take long for clothes to be discarded or for curious fingers to find the other’s waistbands. Your movements are hasty, messy—the tension that had built up over weeks of pining for you, after getting close to kissing you twice and thinking about it a hundred times more, it all comes crashing down in this moment, as his teeth sink into the flesh of your neck, as your hands pull at strands of his hair, as your bodies gently bump into each other. If someone asked Sunghoon right now how long he’d known you, he’d say years, not mere weeks. It couldn’t possibly be real that this much desire had accumulated inside of him — and inside of you, if your broken moans and rapid breathing are anything to go by — in just over a month. 

He only slows down when he has you naked and heaving underneath him, reminding himself to savor the moment instead of rushing it. His fingertips graze down your sides until they reach between your thighs, and he marvels at the way his touch makes you shiver. His eyes are so wide with amazement at the sight of you that he probably looks like he’s never seen a woman before, but he can’t help himself—he always thought you were beautiful, but this is something else entirely. 

His first touch is hesitant, a slow upward motion of his thumb between your folds as if quite literally testing the waters. But it has you arching your back and gripping his bicep, meeting his eyes to silently plead for more. Sunghoon takes that as his green light, thumb circling your clit as his lips continue their work on your neck, on your face, everywhere they can reach. He slips a finger inside of you, then a second one, and when he is satisfied with the state he’s gotten you in, all disheveled and gasping for air, he replaces his fingers with his dick, rock-hard just from seeing and hearing you.

He slowly inches forward until he’s bottomed out, letting you adjust around him. “All good?” he whispers, lips moving against the shell of your ear.

“Never better,” you whisper back, smiling. You kiss him, and the tenderness of your lips on his, mixed with the feeling of being inside you, has Sunghoon’s heart constricting inside his chest. He starts rocking his hips back-and-forth into you, the side of his face is pressed up against yours, head light from the little oxygen the two of you share. It all feels oddly intimate for a first time, feels more like the kind of sex two people would have after years of knowing each other’s bodies. He moves like it’s second nature, thrusts deep and slow, trying to reach those spots that have your hands clawing at his back. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him, using his free hand to push the hair that sticks to your face with sweat.

You wrap your legs higher around his hips, the shift in angle letting him go deeper. “Fuck, right there,” you say, voice strangled. Sunghoon doesn’t need to be told twice—he picks up his pace, and already within a minute, starts to feel himself reaching his limit. He tries to muffle his groans against your skin, but with the way your hold on him tightens and your moans go higher in pitch, you seem to be just as close as he is. When you do come undone around him, breath hitching in your throat before you release a heavy sigh, he has mere seconds left in him. A few thrusts later, his orgasm finally releases him from the tension that had been twisting his stomach into a knot for the past half-hour. You’re both spent, but he continues lazily rocking his hips against yours chasing the last remnants of pleasure, wanting to bask in it just a bit longer. He rolls onto his back after sliding out, wrapping his arms around you. You bury your face in the crook of his neck.

His chest rises and falls as his breathing takes its time returning to normal. In a way, he’s almost relieved it’s over, like any longer would’ve actually taken too much of a toll on him. He likes the comfort he gets from having you in his arms as much as the sex itself. “I didn’t know it could feel this good,” he says, the words spilling out of his mouth before he can stop them. He needs more than a few minutes to get his head back on straight and start thinking before he speaks again. You chuckle airily, he chuckles too, and within seconds, you’re both laughing for seemingly no reason. The bliss of such an intense orgasm and the lack of oxygen must have gone to your brain, too.

“Me either,” you say once the laughter dies down. When your lips find his once more, Sunghoon forgets entirely about his exhaustion and feels like he could go for a second round. “Shower?” you ask right when he realizes how sticky and smelly he is.

“Yes, please.”

He can’t keep his hands off of you in the shower, rubbing soap on every square inch of your skin when you could do it perfectly fine yourself, kissing you even when you’ve both got foaming cleanser on your faces. The taste of soap in his mouth is worth the giggles he gets out of you.

Sunghoon reaches heaven when you drop to your knees in front of him, water rushing down his back as you take him in your mouth. He’s eager to return the favor, of course, thumb flicking your clit with a speed and dexterity even he didn’t know he was capable of. If you weren’t already in the shower, you’d have needed another one.

As soon as your bodies hit the mattress, you both drift off to sleep, limbs wrapping around each other as though they had been separated for too long and finally found each other again—not to let go again.

--

When Sunghoon wakes up, it takes him a few seconds to realize that he hadn’t dreamt up last night’s events. He reaches a hand out hesitantly, still half-asleep and scared that you’ll disappear into thin air at the touch of his fingertips. But no—he feels your skin, warm and soft, and he knows this is real.

You’re laying on your side, facing away from him, so he has to strain his neck to peek at your face. You look so peaceful as you sleep—he doesn’t want to wake you up, but he can’t stop himself from wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing his torso against your back, humming contentedly to himself. He presses a soft, quiet kiss to the top of your head, just because he can.

Outside, clouds part, and a bright ray of sun shines through the window, landing right on your face. Sunghoon watches as you grumble and turn around, burying your face in his chest to avoid the blinding light, but the damage is done—you’re awake. He can tell from the drawled-out whine you let out and the way you grab tightly onto his waist, as if it was his fault the sun had decided to shine right on you. 

He lets you settle in a comfortable position. Stays still as you hike your leg over his legs, then slip it between them instead; as you press your cheek against his chest, then bury your nose in his neck; as you wrap your arm around his waist, then move it to thread your fingers through his hair, until you give up on falling back asleep altogether. “It’s so bright in here,” you mumble in lieu of a good-morning greeting.

You can’t see him, so Sunghoon smiles and tightens his grip around you—one arm circling your shoulders, the other, your waist. Skin to skin. “We forgot to close the blinds yesterday.”

“It’s okay,” you say, sighing. You press a kiss to the base of his neck, right between his collarbones, then lift your face to look at him. “How are you feeling?”

This is what it feels like to wake up next to her, Sunghoon thinks. He’d thought about it so many times: what you would look like first thing in the morning, what you’d say to him, what it’d feel like when your eyes met. If you’d be a slow sort of morning person, cuddling in bed with him until the very last possible second, or if you’d be up and about as soon as you woke up. If you’d be grumpy. If you’d want coffee. If you liked morning sex. 

It seems to be a recurring theme that Sunghoon’s imagination never quite lives up to reality. Your sleepy eyes boring into his, struggling to stay open, your fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck; your skin, so warm and so soft, your scent, so intoxicating he can barely think straight.

You’re better than a dream.

“I feel great. Do you feel great?”

“I feel amazing, thank you so much for asking,” you say, burrowing yourself impossibly closer to him.

The two of you stay like this for a while, talking about your plans for the day and begrudging how little you want to go about them. Sunghoon wishes this could go on forever, but then his stomach growls so loudly, his face turns red from embarrassment. He hadn’t even noticed how hungry he was. 

“You’re me,” you say, laughing, and Sunghoon can’t help but join in. “Is it crazy to have last night’s leftovers for breakfast?”

What Sunghoon hears is that you want him to stay; that you don’t want to part ways just yet.

“If by crazy you mean the best idea ever, then yes.”

“Amazing, because I’ve been thinking about that curry all night.”

“Really? I was thinking about something else,” he says, burrowing his face in your neck and leaving warm kisses there. 

You hum and lean into his touches, leaning into his touches. Chills run down his spine as your nails graze his sides. “There might’ve been other things occupying my mind, too.”

And just like that, breakfast is postponed to thirty minutes later.

--

After that night, Sunghoon forgets how to act right.

His mind has never been so singularly taken up by sex in all of his life. It was already preoccupied with you most of the time, but now that it has more material to gnaw on, it’s practically started to eat away at him. It doesn’t help that you’ve seen each other every day since, or that at every chance you get, you smile knowingly at him or try to get him to play footsies with you. Of course, he loves every bit of attention that he gets from you, but whenever he feels his heart get carried away, Minjeong’s words come back to him in a panic, and he remembers that he has no idea what it is that’s happening between you and him. You could be stringing him along, for all he knows, or you could be as into him as he is into you and just letting things happen. Unfortunately, just letting things happen was not something Sunghoon was good at—if things weren’t written black and white, he’d find a way to overthink even the littlest of details. Like how you’d kissed him for a good five minutes before letting him leave your apartment, otherwise known as the least platonic parting to exist, or conversely, like how you’d sometimes take hours to reply to texts.

If he was already a mumbling fool in front of you before, his condition has only worsened now. He tries his best to be normal and not make you or anyone in the group feel weird, but the fact is that you rocked his world and now he can’t look you in the eyes and not remember how it felt when you touched him or the sounds you made or the way you looked. It’s all playing in a loop in his mind and the only way he knows how to control it is by limiting his interactions with you, which doesn’t even work that well. 

The first couple days, you seem amused by his shyer-than-usual demeanor, but you quickly grow confused more than anything. Sunghoon won’t sit next to you, only speaks to you when necessary, doesn’t seek you out outside of a group setting. He tells himself he just needs some more time to be able to be around you casually again, but before that happens, one day at the library, you make a point to ask him if he’ll come help you get drinks for everyone from the dispenser machine. He knows it’d be too odd to say no, so he follows you.

He presses the buttons for everyone’s order (a Sprite for him, Diet Cokes for the girls, a Red Bull for Jake who has a midterm tomorrow and nothing for Jay who only swears by his disgusting herbal infusion) as you lean against the machine, arms crossed over your chest as you stare at him.

He has never felt so awkward in his life.

“So…” he starts although he has no idea what to say—he hopes something will just appear in his mind and that it’ll alleviate the tension. However, you seem to have other plans.

“What the hell, Sunghoon?” you say, taking him aback. When he glances at you, you don’t seem angry—just genuinely confused. “You’ve been avoiding me like the plague.”

“I haven’t!”

“Sunghoon,” you say sternly. He gives in right away.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I just-I didn’t know what to do. After we, you know…”

“After we had sex?” you say, then burst into laughter when he looks around the room to make sure no one’s heard. His cheeks heat up.

“Yes, after we had sex,” he whispers.

He pays for the drinks and picks them up. When he looks at you again, your smile has completely died down, and worry has settled into your features. “Do you regret it?” you ask, voice now as low as his. As if it hurts to say the words too loud.

Panic overcomes him, and he almost drops half of the drinks as he shakes his head. “No, of course not! I’m really sorry, Y/N, I never meant to be weird about it, I was just trying to wrap my head around everything, and I just… Well, I just didn’t know what to do. I’m sorry.”

You nod, taking his words in. “That’s fine. I get it. I just wanted to say, you know, it doesn’t have to change anything. We can still be friends and all. Like you said, it shouldn’t make things weird.”

Sunghoon’s stomach drops. He knows you’re trying to make him feel better, but you’ve inadvertently said the exact opposite of what he wanted to hear. He doesn’t want things to stay the same, or for you to stay friends. For him, things can’t go back to normal after that night — whatever normal means for the two of you — and he was foolishly hoping that you felt the same.

But clearly, you want to let the whole thing die and pretend like it never happened. And whether it’s a good thing or not, his feelings for you have grown so much, he’ll just let you lead him anywhere. Even if that turns out to be nowhere. 

So he conjures up the most convincing smile he can, hands you half of the drinks to carry, and says, “Yeah, sounds good.”

--

After that conversation, Sunghoon doesn’t think anything else will happen between the two of you. You had sex, you talked it out, and that’s the end of it. But then, it turns out that both of your last midterms are at the same time, in the same building, so you invite him to celebrate with pork belly and some drinks. Sunghoon is finishing his second beer when he starts to feel like he’s on that date again, laughing for no reason, butterflies in his stomach every time his gaze catches yours. You lean on your hand as you listen to him talk about a stupid memory from his childhood and he thinks he’s never seen anyone as pretty as you. 

The sun has long set when you say, “You know, it’s Wednesday today.”

He’s not sure what you’re trying to get at. “Yeah?”

“Minjeong’s out at karaoke tonight.”

With these simple words, all the images of you that Sunghoon had finally managed to banish from his mind come flooding back, and he is not even surprised to find himself half-naked in your bed thirty minutes later. So much for staying friends—one time is one thing, but Sunghoon knows he’ll never be normal again after a second time with you.

It’s not a long time before he finds himself in your room again. Every item of clothing between the two of you is gradually discarded while you kiss, lips growing more impatient with every inch of bare skin uncovered. He reluctantly lets you go when you suddenly giggle and say that you really need to pee, watching as you grab his t-shirt off the floor and put it on, just in case Minjeong comes home. You wear it like it’s yours, like it’s the most natural thing in the world that you’d be wearing his clothes. An indescribable feeling washes over Sunghoon at the sight, so intense he feels tears welling behind his eyes. Like something he’s been yearning for is finally at the grasp of his fingers; like it might slip away at any moment. 

His feelings must’ve transpired in the way he was looking at you—when you meet his eyes, your expression shifts slightly, and you quickly slip out of your room. He tells himself to reel it in. Get it together, he thinks. Or you’ll drive her away. 

A wave of tiredness hits him in the minute that you’re gone, probably due to all that soju and beer. “I’m back,” you whisper, but he doesn’t move, only opens his arms wide for you to get back into bed with him. It’s like a weight is lifted off his heart when he feels you against him again. You’re back. Your face is fresh, as if you’d splashed it with cold water, but when he slips one of his hands underneath your (his) t-shirt, your skin is still just as warm as before. Far from the fuzzy, tingly feeling he had gotten when you’d woken up together the other morning, now, he feels his desire for you deep in the pit of his stomach. The kind of hunger food couldn’t satisfy. “I missed you,” he whispers, voice low and gravelly. He reacts immediately when you squirm against him, tightening his grip around your waist and pulling you to him.

“I was gone two minutes.”

“I mean these past few days. I was starting to think I’d dreamt you up.” His hand on your lower back sneaks its way up between your bodies until it finds your breasts, cupping one of them with his palm before taking your nipple between his thumb and index, gently twisting. It pulls a half-gasp, half-moan from your throat, and the sound goes straight to his dick. “But you’re real, aren’t you?” 

“Very real,” you reply, a tremor in your voice. He’s barely touching you, and you’re already having trouble breathing. Sunghoon smiles at the idea of him having as much of a hold on you as you do on him.

“Good,” he says, voice so low it’s almost a growl. In one quick sweep, he pushes you down so your back is against the mattress, resting his palms on each side of your head.

He’s inside you within mere minutes. He’d wanted to hold back a bit, but you whispering Just put it in after thirty seconds of his fingers loosening you up was enough to convince him. His mind is already fuzzy with remnants of alcohol, and his overwhelming desire for you only makes matters worse. He barely has any control over his movements, rushed and sloppy, but as he drives himself deeper into you, your moans increase in volume. He only later realizes how tight his grip on your hips is when he sees two small bruises forming on the skin there. 

He comes quickly, probably embarrassingly so, but he can’t bring himself to care—he’s got other things on his mind. He’s not even bothered to discard the condom as he makes his way down your body, lips around your clit before you’ve even had the time to register what was happening. You cry out, a sound that Sunghoon works to pry out of you over and over again. Even when your thighs start shaking and you squirm away from him, he doesn’t relent. He’s just as desperate to make you feel good as he was desperate chasing his own pleasure earlier. He hooks his arms around your thighs, bringing you down to him and ensuring that you can’t get away. One hand still in his hair, the other clutching the bed sheets, you’ve turned your face sideways into the pillow so that your moans come out muffled. He is only satisfied when you’ve reached your second orgasm. 

As your breath slowly returns to normal, Sunghoon makes his way back up your body, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake. You clear your throat of its dryness and burst into soft, quiet laughter. “What’s funny?” Sunghoon murmurs, lips against your neck. 

“Nothing,” you say, still laughing. “That was just really, really nice.”

Sunghoon smiles. “I’m glad,” he says before kissing you, lips moving slowly against yours.

As he lays against you, the top of his head under your chin and your fingernails grazing along his back, a weird feeling overcomes him. Sunghoon is usually a pine-from-afar sort of guy, with at least five instances of hanging out that could or could not be a date before making things any sort of official. The pining has been a constant with all of his crushes. He’s gotten to the hanging out stage a couple of times, but the officialising has only happened once. Despite its low success rate, it’s a cycle Sunghoon feels comfortable with, and he’d imagined the rest of his romantic encounters would follow that pattern. 

But this is completely different. Of the three times you guys have met separately from your friend group, already two times have included sex. This isn’t a stage Sunghoon usually reaches before at least a few months and it disorientates him. What does it mean? That you like him so much, you decided to skip all of the steps and jump straight into the thick of it? He is reasonable enough not to delude himself into such a thought. He likes you a lot—that much he can be sure of. He’s liked you since the moment he laid eyes on you, even if the reason eludes him. Something in the way you smiled at him, the way you took him in stride as if you’d known him forever. When he thinks back to that party, he can’t believe it started out as the two of you being strangers. Even now, feeling your warm skin against his, it feels like a lie that just two months ago he hadn’t even met you. 

What he can’t say with total certainty is that you like him the same amount. Or that you like him any amount, really, although in his naivety he doesn’t understand how anyone could be this intimate with another person without liking them at least a little bit. And he doesn’t just mean the sex. He means this. The silently laying in each other’s arms, the soft kisses, the caresses wherever hands can reach. Eating post-sex snacks together, laughing as you watch the first episode of each other’s favorite sitcoms (Brooklyn Nine-Nine for him, Pen15, oddly enough, for you). Falling asleep together, cuddling the entire night then waking up and diving right back into each other’s embrace. 

After an entire day spent in rumination, Sunghoon’s still not sure what to make of it all.

All he knows is that when he DMs you that night, asking you how your day went, he goes through every emotion between anxiety, self-hatred and indifference in the five minutes that separate his text from your reply. He’s never been so happy to hear that someone couldn’t concentrate in class because of him.

--

Sunghoon has always been obsessed with the way couples stand together in public. 

Every time, it takes everything in him not to stare, because he wants to take in every little thing they do. He has that practically everywhere he goes, wanting to stare at people just to see what their deal is, but he is never quite as simultaneously fascinated and envious as when he spots a couple. But he knows staring isn’t the socially appropriate thing to do, so he either steals glances or watches for a little bit then pretends they aren’t there. He can’t help himself—even if they aren’t holding hands or obnoxiously making out in public, it’s still visible to anyone with eyes that there is something tying these people together. It’s in the way they stand near each other, their bodies turned inwardly, as though enveloped by a bubble containing just the two of them and no one else; in the way they look at each other, their eyes never straying from the other’s face as they talk, intimacy showing itself even in a loud, crowded room. Sunghoon craves to find that proximity, to be able to touch and be touched so softly, every graze of a hand purposeful and unconscious at the same time.

It’s the first of November already. The Weather app, as it tends to do, has deceived you; so instead of a walk on what was supposed to be a sunny day, you find yourselves in a busy café near the University, the air outside too chilly even with your scarves and gloves. You’re waiting for your order at the end of the counter — a mocha for him, an oat flat white for you — when he notices it. Your body is fully facing him, you’re distractedly playing with the hem of his sweatshirt, and you’re not looking at anything but him as you rant about that annoying classmate of yours that goes by a self-made nickname and always talks over the tutor. In this light, the two of you are like the couples he’s always longed to be—the simple thought makes him want to cry. As more and more often is the case these days, you have no idea what you’re doing to him.

It’s been around two months since you first met and in that time, although Sunghoon is lucky not to have enough fingers to count the number of times you have seen each other one-on-one, not much has happened. Minjeong, who had understood what was going on the first time she saw the two of you eating leftovers from the Japanese restaurant on the couch at 10 a.m., has grown accustomed to his presence in the apartment and even sometimes sits down to watch a movie with the two of you—a movie that Chaewon would usually have forced you to watch in the living room instead of the privacy of your bedroom, so that everyone could join. Sunghoon is just glad Minjeong has stopped silently scolding him with her eyes every time he comes out of your room. She never mentions that night when she essentially warned him against you after the party. 

Jake seems to be the only oblivious one in your group. Yunjin and Chaewon have eyes like hawks and horrifyingly vivid imaginations when they put their heads together, so they were probably already making plans for your wedding and fighting for the title of godmother when you and Sunghoon met at the beginning-of-semester party. They cornered him once at a party and forced him to spill the beans and spare no detail, because you apparently were “denying everything, but we know there’s something going on.” Jay is still Sunghoon’s go-to person when he needs advice concerning you, although the older boy doesn’t understand why it has to be so complicated and always tells him to “just tell her how you feel,” which Sunghoon will not do unless there is a gun to his head. But Jake just seems happy to see his friend and his sister get along this well—no matter how many times you wear his jacket at their games or disappear at the same time at the end of parties, he doesn’t grow suspicious. If he does, he doesn’t mention it to Sunghoon, at least.

Between the two of you, not a word is spoken about the nature of your relationship, which remains unbearingly undefined. For a while, he weakly convinces himself that he doesn’t need to have that conversation with you. He’s young, he’s free, he should be able to enjoy casual sex without putting a label on it. The main problem, though, was that the sex could not be further from casual, at the very least not to Sunghoon.

He has never known anything quite like it. In mere weeks, you’ve both mastered the art of pleasuring each other. He understands your body like it’s his, knows what each of the sounds and expressions you make means. He knows where to touch you to have a kiss go from light-hearted to dizzyingly intense, how to move his mouth to have you arching your back and holding onto him for dear life. And you—he thinks your skin must be laced with cocaine, the way he can never get enough of it. 

But it’s always the moments afterwards that get him in his head. To him, casual sex means getting dressed the minute it’s over and going off to do other things, which is the absolute opposite of what you do. Whether it’s falling asleep together or spending Sundays in bed, you always stay together afterwards, curled up in each other’s arms as you talk away the hours, conversations interspersed with slow, lazy kisses. He’ll say things like, “You’re so pretty,” or “Why do you smell so good?” because he’s so smitten with you that he can never stop himself from uttering every compliment that flashes through his brain, but the things he really wants to say are harder to speak out loud. Even just a What are we?—three simple words that he can’t bring himself to ask, too scared it’ll ruin everything. 

Arguably worse is that sex isn’t even a requirement for when you and Sunghoon see each other. He goes on walks with you whenever you’ve spent too much time in the library and need some fresh air. You go shopping with him when his department throws a fundraiser and he needs a formal outfit. He cooks you your favorite meal when your period is particularly nasty. You sneak into the ice rink after his practice and let him ‘teach’ you how to skate, even though you already learned how with Jake when you were kids. Even mundane moments become fun when spent with you, and you share so many hobbies and interests that you never run out of things to do or talk about.

And yet, it feels like one step forward, two steps back with you—if you let him close one night, you’ll run away the next. A week will pass without you seeing each other outside of the library or group hang-outs, and if Sunghoon asks you out, you’ll say no, usually blaming the amount of work you have. He gets it—due to the nature of your degree and your being a fourth-year student, your workload is much heavier than his, with essays, translations and oral presentations due every other week. And that’s not even including midterms and finals. But still, he doesn’t see why you would need to stay at the library for ten hours straight for days on end. He’d start worrying about your health if you didn’t at least relax on weekends. 

So while Sunghoon wants nothing more than to go all in with you, he senses you holding back. He notices you avoiding eye contact during particularly intimate moments, and when you look at him perhaps too fondly for your liking, you quickly catch yourself and resume your neutral, sometimes almost cold expression. When he tries to broach more personal, sensitive topics, you always find a way to change the subject or turn the conversation towards him before you get too deep. 

As time passes, and especially as exam season nears, he can tell there’s something that you’re not telling him about. His suspicions are confirmed when you come back from a weekend at your parents’ house. He’s also been away for an out-of-town hockey game, and because he hasn’t had much time to text you (and because their team won, so he wants to show off a little), he’s particularly looking forward to seeing you again that Monday. It’s only been three days since you’ve last seen each other, but he misses you like crazy. 

But the minute you’re back, you bury yourself in work like never before, often waking up at ungodly hours and staying at the library until midnight. More than once, he stays behind with you, long after the others have gone, reminding you gently every hour that it might be time to go home and get some rest. The moments you actually agree are few and far between, and although he sticks it out at first, sleeping with his head on the table until you tell him you’re ready to go, your stubbornness soon starts frustrating him, and he ends up leaving when he gets too tired. He knows this is important to you, but he doesn’t understand why you have to go to these lengths—you’d still easily be one of the best students in your class without all this exertion. And despite his many attempts, you won’t tell him what’s wrong, won’t even admit that something is wrong—you keep repeating that “it’s just what exam season is like.”

When he asks your friends about it, they seem just as confused as he is. One evening when you have plans to order some food and watch a movie at your apartment, he shows up at the agreed time, but you’re nowhere to be found. Thankfully, the girls are there to let him up and not leave him standing outside in the rain. You don’t pick up when he calls you and call him back a minute later, apologizing profusely but still saying that there’s something you really need to finish first. If it was only a one-time thing, it wouldn’t make him as angry as it does—but this has been going on for almost two weeks now, and Sunghoon is close to boiling point. 

The fact that it’s been months since your date at the Japanese restaurant, and the only thing that you’ve said about what was happening between you and Sunghoon “didn’t have to change anything.” The fact that you’re essentially each other’s boyfriend and girlfriend without the label or the reassurance that comes with it. The fact that there’s something clearly bothering you but that you won’t tell him about it. The fact that this something is effectively coming between the two of you. Sunghoon was originally more worried about you than anything—now that studying has taken obvious precedence over him in your list of priorities, he’d be lying if he said his ego wasn’t wounded. He isn’t asking to be the number one most important thing in your life, and he knew before even meeting you that high academic performance meant a lot to you, but he likes to think he deserves at least a little bit of your time and attention. 

Except, does he really? It’s not like you’re actually dating.

There’s a pang in his heart as he remembers this fact that he should never have forgotten in the first place. It hurts—and so perhaps, he’s less patient than he ought to be.

“Whatever, Y/N. Don’t worry about it, just let me know when you have time for something other than getting As.”

He hangs up and meets your flatmates’ worried eyes. 

“She still at the library?” Chaewon asks, tone delicate as if trying not to scare off a wounded animal. Sunghoon nods, a deep sigh escaping his mouth. 

“She always studies a lot,” Minjeong starts, “but this is something else.”

“Have you guys tried saying something?”

The girls nod. “Even Jake has talked to her, but she won’t listen. And he usually always gets to her,” Minjeong says. 

He goes home soon afterwards and spends the rest of his evening in rumination, torn between his worry and his anger towards you—emotions which only increase as more days pass, and he sees less and less of you. Your behavior was already concerning while preparing for your exams and final assignments, it gets even worse when exams actually do start. He doesn’t hear from you for an entire week, and the one time you miraculously agree to a short group hang-out in the form of getting coffee, you’re only half there, physically present but mind far, far away. You barely react when the guys tell you about their victory at the latest hockey game—which you didn’t attend, as well as any other game recently. 

No matter how much he tries to put it out of his mind, to focus on his own exams and hockey games, you stay at the forefront of his thoughts. The hockey team is away for another out-of-town game when he decides to broach the subject with Jake, with whom he’s sharing a room. The entire semester, he’s been careful not to raise Jake’s suspicions about the two of you, both out of consideration for you, who’d mentioned you didn’t want your brother to know what was going on, and for himself, who would also rather Jake not know, at least not until your relationship became official. Which it never did. But now that all he gets from you is radio silence at a time when you’d usually be an hour into a FaceTime call, he can’t help himself.

Jake is just coming out of the bathroom, drying his hair with a towel, when Sunghoon takes his shot in the dark. “Have you heard from Y/N recently?” he asks as nonchalantly as he can, pretending to not be avidly waiting for his friend’s reaction by keeping his eyes on his phone.

“Y/N?” Jake echoes. “No, not really. Why?”

“Just ‘cause I haven’t seen her around much. I’m wondering if everything’s okay.”

“You mean her staying at the library all day?” Sunghoon nods; Jake sighs. “Yeah, she’ll snap out of it soon enough. She gets somewhat like this every time exams come around, but even I have to admit it’s pretty tough this time around. The last time I saw her like this was way back in high school, and that’s because our parents were watching right over her shoulder. It’s been better in university thanks to the distance.”

“So this has to do with your parents?”

“Oh, one hundred percent. She’s always wanted to do well at school, but she only gets this obsessive when our parents are involved.”

“I guess this did start after that weekend when she went home…” Sunghoon muses absent-mindedly. It could’ve passed off as an off-hand remark, but Jake pauses in his movements and looks at him warily.

“Yeah, she did… You noticed that, huh?”

Sunghoon pauses. This whole time, he was sure Jake was oblivious to anything happening between you and him—but he might have underestimated his friend. Like brother, like sister; he can hardly read either of you when he really needs to. Jake might genuinely be surprised that Sunghoon remembered your whereabouts that weekend, or he’s onto him. “I guess I did,” he finally says, going for as noncommittal an answer as he can.

Jake says nothing for a bit, and Sunghoon thinks he’s managed to get through the conversation without raising too much suspicion—until a minute later, when Jake speaks again. “Do you… like Y/N?”

Sunghoon freezes, snapping his head towards Jake, who’s lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling. His first instinct is to deny, but there’s no point pretending anymore. It’s one thing keeping it from Jake—lying to him about it is something else entirely. It’s an uncomfortable conversation, but it must be had. “Yeah, I do,” Sunghoon replies, guilt clear in his voice, more because he’s only now admitting it to Jake than because of his feelings themselves.

A shaky breath comes out of Jake’s mouth, as if this was the exact answer he had dreaded. “Right, okay. Since when?”

“Since I met her, basically.”

Jake’s head whips towards Sunghoon, and their gazes meet awkwardly. “Since that party in September?” he asks, shock written all over his face. Sunghoon nods, and to his surprise, Jake bursts out laughing. “Don’t tell me it’s because you accidentally matched costumes?”

Sunghoon looks away, frowning. “That might’ve helped things along,” he mumbles, embarrassment washing over him as Jake’s laughter intensifies. At least he was taking it well—a bit too well, perhaps.

“You’re so predictable, man,” Jake says when he’s calmed down, wiping a tear from his eye. 

“How did you know, anyway?”

“You’ve been pretty obvious with it recently,” Jake replies after a few seconds. “I could tell you were a bit shy around her at first, and when it got better I just thought you’d become friends or something. But when she showed up with your jacket at every game and you never left her side at parties, I assumed something else was going on. You’ve always been staying behind at the library these days, and I know you don’t have that much work.”

Sunghoon chuckles. “I guess I haven’t been trying hard to hide it lately.”

“Yeah, why would you hide it in the first place? You could’ve just told me.”

“I didn’t want to make things weird.”

Jake frowns. “It wouldn’t have been weird. If anything, hiding it makes it weirder.”

“I just thought, if one of my friends had a crush on my sister, I’d probably rather they hid it. Like, I don’t need to know about that,” Sunghoon says, and it makes Jake laugh.

“Dude, Y/N and I are only a year apart. Do you know how many guys have come up to me asking me for her number or advice on how to ask her out? It’s been, like, one every few months since middle school. Guys here especially have no shame telling me how hot they find her.”

Sunghoon makes a face. He doesn’t disagree, but he’d never go out of his way to tell your brother how exquisite you looked in certain outfits. “That’s gross.”

“Yeah, it is. But you’re my friend, not some greasy rando, so I trust you. If anything, I’d probably have to tell her to be nice to you, and not the other way around.”

“Yeah, you could say that again,” Sunghoon grumbles, then realizes his mistake immediately, eyes widening.

“What do you mean?” Jake asks, sounding genuine at first, but when Sunghoon stays quiet for a couple seconds, debating whether he should just lay the truth bare, Jake sits up on the bed and repeats his question, his tone much warier this time around. Sunghoon glances at him then looks away guiltily.

“Well, to be completely honest… We’ve sort of been seeing each other, kind of. But it’s complicated.”

Jake flops back down on his mattress with a grunt. “Who else knows?” he asks, rubbing at his eyes with his hands as if suddenly very exhausted.

“Everyone…”

“Everyone?!”

“Well, Jay, Minjeong, Yunjin and Chaewon.”

“So everyone.”

“Basically, yeah.”

“Great.” Jake sighs. “Since when?”

“Since October,” Sunghoon mumbles, feeling guiltier than ever. He’s belatedly realizing that it would’ve been much easier to have everything out in the open from the get-go, both with you and with Jake; now he’s both stuck in situationship limbo and has to face the consequences of keeping something this important from one of his closest friends. “Are you upset?” Sunghoon asks, feeling a bit like a ten-year-old.

“Kinda, yeah, but more at her than at you. I’ve told her not to go after anyone from the hockey team.”

“‘Cause of Heeseung?”

“Yeah. God, that was messy. He gave her mixed signals for so long, I could barely talk to him without thinking of her crying for so long. And now he’s the one who can’t quite look me in the eye,” Jake says, shaking his head at the mere thought of his captain.

“Was it that bad? She made it seem like it wasn’t that big of a deal.”

Jake raises his eyebrows. “Really? It upset her for a while though,” he says, then turns his head to look at the ceiling again. “I guess that’s not so surprising of her. She sometimes likes pretending she doesn’t have any emotions, even though I’m pretty sure she has more than most people.”

“Huh.” That would explain some things, Sunghoon muses. Emotions are not a topic that comes up very often with you, and every time he’s gotten an inkling of them, you seem to shut it all down immediately.

“But you know, I’m more surprised than anything. About… about it all, really. Not just that you’re only telling me now, but that it’s lasted this long. She must really like you.”

“You think?” Sunghoon says, his face brightening with hope, the words slipping from him before he can stop them once again. He shrinks when Jake laughs at him.

“Look at you. Down bad, huh?”

“Shut up.”

“But yeah, dude. I’ve told you about this. I’ve never seen her in a relationship, ever. Says she doesn’t have the time,” Jake says, air-quoting you. “I’ve only had the displeasure of seeing her go home with one-night-stands. You know that since she started college, she’s had a rule that she’d only see someone three times and that was it?”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, so she wouldn’t catch feelings. I’m telling you, she’s crazy. So you must be special.”

Sunghoon can’t stop the smile from spreading on his lips—special. But it doesn’t make him feel that much better, either. “It’s not like we’re actually dating, so I’m not sure how special I can be…”

Jake’s head turns to look at Sunghoon again, but the younger boy keeps his eyes trained on the ceiling fan above him. “What’s happening between you guys?”

A blush creeps on Sunghoon’s cheeks. “Is this something you really want to talk about?”

“Well, spare me the gruesome details, please,” Jake says, chuckling, “but yeah, I would like to know what’s going on with my best friend and my sister.”

“I’m your best friend?” Sunghoon says, grinning as he meets Jake’s gaze, who rolls his eyes.

“Don’t change the subject.”

“Fine.” He sighs. “Well, I didn’t think it would happen more than once-”

“What would happen more than once?”

Sunghoon pauses. “Well, you know…” Jake gives him a look as if to say, Well, no, I don’t know, so Sunghoon is forced to go on: “Sleeping together.”

“You guys slept together?!” Jake exclaims, sitting up on his bed once again.

“Yeah, what did you think?”

“I don’t know, just that you were going on dates, hanging out one-on-one, or whatever…”

“Well, we were.”

“Ugh, whatever,” Jake says, waving his hand in front of his face like swatting a fly away. “So, not just once, then?”

“No. And I thought it’d be a one-time thing, ‘cause a few days afterwards she said something about it not having to change our friendship…”

“Damn.”

“Yeah. But then it did. Happen again, I mean. And it’s been happening frequently since. But we’re not… dating dating. We haven’t had that conversation.”

Jake frowns. “Why not?”

Sunghoon releases a shaky breath. Why not, indeed. “‘Cause she hasn’t mentioned it. And I’m too scared to do it.”

“What are you scared of?”

“The typical stuff. What we have now… it’s not what I want, but it’s managed to not disrupt the group, you know. I’m scared that if I tell her how I feel, it’ll make things awkward between the two of us, and between all of us by extension.”

“Well, it might,” Jake says after thinking for a few seconds. “I wish I could tell you with certainty that she’ll like you back, but I honestly can’t. As obvious as you were towards her, she was not giving anything away.” Sunghoon chuckles, more out of self-deprecation than anything. This was not the pep talk he had hoped for. “But, I can tell you that she won’t be the type to make things awkward. You have nothing to risk by telling her, because in the long run, you’ll be better off that way. I know you, Sunghoon. You’ll be miserable if you can’t be fully yourself with someone.”

Decidedly, Sunghoon’s friends had a way of telling him the exact opposite of the things he wanted to hear while being completely right. He wishes things with you could stay the same — minus the overworking yourself and ignoring him in the process — and that he wouldn’t have to do anything that might make them change. But just as Jake said, he’d also reach a point where he couldn’t take it anymore—a point he was already inching closer and closer to with every passing day. He likes you enough to let you not define the relationship, but he likes you too much to let it go on. He likes you too much to not be able to tell you, and show you, and remind you of it every day. He hated having to hold back, and he hated feeling you holding back. He wanted to give you his all and he wanted all of you, too, not just bite-sized portions of you.

“You’re right,” he finally says. “I haven’t been able to talk to her lately, but I’ll have to tell her soon enough. When her exams are over, I guess.”

Jake sighs. “Yeah. I don’t know if there’s any getting through to her right now.”

“She’s blown me off so many times! I don’t know what she’s doing, spending so many hours in that library. I’d go insane.”

“She’s a perfectionist,” Jake says, shaking his head. “I’ve talked to her about it. When it comes to school, she needs everything to be as flawless as can be. She spends hours re-reading and editing her work. It’s not good.”

“Not really, no.”

“But she’s only got a week left. I’ll try to convince her not to go home for too long, and it’ll be better after the holidays. Then we’ll make sure there’s not a repeat of this next exam season.”

He thinks of Christmas break and of not seeing you for two weeks; of next semester and going through all of this with you a second time. The uncertainty, the fooling around behind your friends’ backs — although that might not be needed now that Jake is in on it too — Sunghoon’s not sure if he can go through it all again. “Yeah, we will.”

--

They lose their game the following day. They had an amazing run, either winning or tying every game so far; this loss is not enough to make them drop significantly in the rankings, but it’s enough to demoralize Sunghoon. It couldn’t have come at a worse time—between you and this failed game, his self-esteem is taking a real hit.

He dared hope for some comfort from you once he was back, but in vain. He doesn’t know why he imagined your attitude might’ve changed overnight, and when he texts you asking to hang out, the same old sorry I can’t atm fills his phone screen. And just like that, as strong as his feelings for you have been all this time, so is his resentment—unwarranted, perhaps, but he thinks he deserves better than this, and he’s both angry at you for not giving him anything and at himself for letting it happen.

Now, he’s the one who spends hours working himself to the bone in the ice rink, who’s clearly preoccupied with other things when everyone gets together, and who doesn’t even show up to the party the whole group goes to when you’re all done with exams. The last game before winter break is in two days, and he doesn’t want to waste a day nursing a hangover when he could be practicing.

That night, he thinks everyone is out at some random club downtown, so he does a double-take when it’s past eleven p.m. and you show up at the rink. He’s skating laps, practicing his speed and his goal-shooting, only noticing you when you’re standing in the middle of the rink. He almost skates right into you.

“Y/N?” he asks, not completely sure you’re not just a figment of his imagination. He’s so exhausted, he wouldn’t be surprised if he were dreaming you up.

“Jay texted me.”

“Oh. Why?” He’s out of breath, and the words come out blunter than he intends them to.

“Because it’s almost midnight and you’re still here,” you reply, crossing your arms over your chest. There’s a hint of a smile on your lips, but your eyebrows are furrowed in what looks like worry. It’s the first time Sunghoon’s seeing you concerned over something other than an assignment. 

He shrugs and resumes his laps, slower this time, forcing you to keep turning on your feet. “I’m practicing. There’s a big game coming up.”

“Which is exactly why you should be resting, like everyone else on your team right now.”

He resists rolling his eyes. “Why would I rest when I could be getting better?”

“Because you need rest as much as you need practice. You won’t be any use on the rink if you’re too tired to play properly.”

“And I won’t be any use if I can’t shoot properly, either.”

“Sunghoon, you need a break. You’re clearly exhausted-Will you stop it?” you suddenly snap. “I’m trying to talk to you, and I’m getting dizzy.” 

Your small outburst only has him growing more agitated, and even though he does stop, it’s more so you can see the annoyance on his face than anything. “You know, this is a bit rich coming from you, Y/N.” He knows this is not the right time to bring this up—if he has grievances against you, he shouldn’t be bringing them up when he’s already frustrated. He’s well aware of this, but he can’t help himself.

You scoff. “Excuse me?”

“You’re the one who spends twelve hours a day in the library during exams and does not budge even if I tell you you should go home.”

“That’s different-”

“How is it any different?” he interrupts, voice rising. “You don’t listen to me when you overwork yourself. I don’t see why I should.”

“So you realize that you’re overworking yourself?”

“Of course I do! But I have to.”

“No, you don’t-”

“Y/N, please. I have to win as much as you have to get the top grades. Is it actually necessary? No, but you know how shit it feels not to.”

“And it’s exactly because I know that feeling that I’m telling you to stop. You’re just feeding into it.”

“So are you, staying until 2 a.m. in the library. You’ve never once gone home when I asked you to.”

“Again, that’s different-”

“How?! How is it different? Please enlighten me, ‘cause they’re the exact same thing to me.”

You sigh. A sudden sadness appears on your face. Sunghoon is torn between wanting to see this to its end and taking everything he’s said back. But he keeps quiet, and your eyes, when they meet his again, harden. “Are you really gonna make me say it?”

“Yes.”

As if you couldn’t say your next words while looking at him, you tear your gaze away from his face. “Because I’m actually concerned about you, here. The only reason you want me to stop and go home is so we can fuck.”

Sunghoon is so astounded that all words fail him—he stares at you, mouth wide open like you just shot him. After a few seconds, all he’s able to come up with is an incredulous, “What?” His voice is a mere whisper. 

“You heard me,” you say coldly.

He closes his mouth and swallows. “So… you’re the one who’s worried, and I’m only after sex?”

You glance at him. “Yeah.”

A chuckle escapes Sunghoon’s throat, then another, until laughter spills out of him uncontrollably. He feels like the world is upside down. How could you have lived the same thing and come out of it with such different perspectives? Your account of his intentions with you is so ridiculous and unfathomable to him that he can’t do anything but laugh.

You seem taken aback at first, but your surprise quickly turns into annoyance. “Something funny?”

“Hilarious, actually,” he says, holding his stomach. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. All he finds at the end of his amusement is anger, bright red and hot. It’s not an emotion he feels often, its rarity only serving as an intensifier—he starts making his way out of the rink before it can explode and hit you in its wake. “Well, that’s convinced me to call it a day. So you got what you came for, I guess.”

His fingers tremble as he undoes the laces on his skates and puts his sneakers on again. You stand by the door of the rink, holding onto the frame as you look at him, that same sad look still on your face. “Hoon,” you say, voice weak. What would usually have him melting only has his anger flare harder.

“Don’t. For the first time ever, I actually really don’t want to talk to you right now.” He stands up, gives you one last harsh look, and turns away. He only halts right before exiting the bleacher area, and after a couple seconds of thinking, turns back around. “Oh, but don’t worry, I’ll let you know when I want to fuck again. Since that’s all this is, clearly.”

--

It seemed to you no one thought you were good enough for Sunghoon.

Only Yunjin and Chaewon seemed excited at the prospect of the two of you getting together, or at least getting to know each other, but they were also the type to coo at dogs in the street and tear up at the sight of old people holding hands; Minjeong was apprehensive from the start, and made it clear; Jay was indifferent; Jake was oblivious for a while. Sunghoon was…

What was Sunghoon?

Someone who had come out of nowhere, shaken up your routine and messed with your head. That’s what Sunghoon was. He didn’t seem apologetic in the slightest.

Maybe it was your fault for not opening up to the people closest to you and letting them think you were some kind of no-strings-attached one-night-stands-only emotionless maneater who had been single for as long as they had known her, who would be seen with someone new every few months, and never for long, who, as far as the eye could tell, only used men for sex. Maybe it was their fault for never trying to dig deeper.

No, okay, it was definitely your fault.

Based on your conversations with your friends, they thought Heeseung had broken your heart, and you had never bounced back properly. He’d hurt you so much, you couldn’t fathom a real relationship anymore—you could only be with someone casually. Which wasn’t so far from the truth, but what Heeseung had done was much worse than just breaking your heart. He’d confirmed what you already knew of yourself: you want too much. You want what you can’t have, what you don’t deserve.

From the moment you met Park Sunghoon, you knew you didn’t deserve someone like him. Minjeong seemed to agree, and when she saw you and him together at choir that Saturday in September, three months ago already, she made sure you knew her thoughts on the matter.

“This is so… unlike you,” was the first thing she’d said after she pulled you aside. 

“What is?”

“This,” she repeated, waving her arms around. “Being here. Coming with him.” She pointed at Sunghoon, whose hair was being ruffled by one grandma and his cheek pulled by another. He kept glancing back worriedly at you—you liked him so much already. “See? You’re smiling at him,” she said, making you realize a sappy smile had started growing on your lips at the sight of him. Your face dropped and you scoffed at the disgust in her voice.

“Yeah, some of us like to smile. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Y/N, you know what I’m trying to say.”

“I don’t think I do, actually.”

She sighed. “You don’t do this. You don’t meet a guy and show up to his choir practice the next morning. What’s happening?”

You crossed your arms over your chest. Had you known your presence would be questioned like that, you might’ve thought twice about coming. “Can’t a girl enjoy a choir without getting interrogated these days?”

“You’re avoiding my question! Listen, Y/N. Sunghoon is not the kind of guy you usually go for. He’s-Stop. Don’t smile at me like that.”

“If you like Sunghoon, you can just tell me. You know I wouldn’t stoop so low as to go after a guy my best friend likes.”

“So you are going after him?”

“So you do like him?”

Minjeong shook her head violently and put her hands on your shoulders, staring into your brain as if trying to make you see some sense. Calmly, she said, “No, I don’t. Sunghoon’s nice, but he is so far from my type. He’s too… nice.”

“You mean he doesn’t wear leather jackets or ride a motorcycle?”

“That was once. But no, he doesn’t do that. And what I’m trying to tell you is that he’s not your type either.”

“And how have you gathered that?”

“Because so far, you’ve only wisely chosen guys who are as detached and emotionally stunted as you.”

“I’m not-”

“But he’s not like that, Y/N. He’s the bring-home-to-your-parents-for-Christmas type. Not the hump-and-dump type.”

“I’m starting to get offended by this conversation.”

“All I’m saying is, don’t go breaking his heart. Or yours, for that matter. It pains me to say but I care about both of you very much and I don’t see this going anywhere good.”

You shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Was her opinion of your romantic tendencies — or lack thereof — that bad that she couldn’t even recommend you to her friend? You felt like a chastised child whose mom told you you couldn’t get the toy you wanted. Despite being well aware that you weren’t the most committed when it came to relationships, you still felt like she was going overboard. Just because nothing had stuck so far didn’t mean it wouldn’t now—she was acting like you went around playing with people’s feelings for fun.

“Jesus, this is my second time seeing him. I just wanna see what his deal is. I’m not breaking anyone’s heart, okay?” 

The choir conductor had called out for everyone to gather on stage then, and that was the end of that conversation. You still remember how funny of a thing it was, seeing Sunghoon in his nice shirt and trousers, his hair falling into his eyes, singing diligently with the choir, when just the night before he had been playing beer pong dressed as Cowboy Ken. In this new light, you understood why Minjeong was so adamant about him not being your usual type, and why the grandmas were fussing over him. You hadn’t known what had pushed you to invite yourself to this rehearsal, and even then as you sat there, you weren’t sure what you were doing or why you couldn’t stop smiling as you watched Sunghoon sing. 

Time made things clearer, starting with that afternoon at the beach. The salt in the air that day had clouded your thoughts, covered them with a thin layer so that your usual reluctance to share anything remotely personal had dimmed. Or maybe it had had nothing to do with the air and everything to do with the boy sitting next to you on the sand, the way words came tumbling out of your mouth before you could think about them and were only met with understanding and empathy on his part. For once, you didn’t feel the need to guard yourself, to adapt your words and actions to the person in front of you. It was something you didn’t know was possible with a near stranger—perhaps because Sunghoon felt nothing like one.

He made you feel things you hadn’t felt in a long time; things you had been craving to feel, needed almost as much as oxygen. Being with him felt like breathing again. But you had been underwater so long, being on land again felt foreign, scary, and you couldn’t help but dive back into safe waters, coming up for air once in a while.

Whether he had intended to or not, Sunghoon had started to scratch at your surface, until he’d burrowed a small hole—shallow, but enough for cracks to appear, cracks you were quick to put back together as best as you could.

So when his gaze was too tender, his touches too gentle, you bristled. You went away, because you were afraid of what might happen if you stayed. The more you wanted to give him, the less you gave him anything at all. Your own desire overwhelmed you. His letterman jacket was warm around your shoulders, you proudly walked around with the four letters of his last name on your back, but you couldn’t get out of your mind how cold it would be if it was one day ripped away from you. 

You thought of Heeseung, how disillusioned you had been when you thought you had finally met someone who would love you the way you had always yearned to be, only for him to toss you away when you started asking for too much. You thought of your friends in middle school, how it seemed that no friendship could be more wonderful until you overheard them talking about you at a sleepover, about how clingy you were. You thought of your parents, how they had only bestowed kind words upon you when you performed well in your role of perfect daughter, of academically gifted child. How they hadn’t even glanced at any of the drawings you’d done of the four of you, mother, father, son and daughter holding hands with a bright yellow sun in the corner of the sky. How they had pushed you away from their bed when you seeked some comfort after a terrible nightmare. How they had never bothered to hide their disappointment when you came home from school with anything less than an A. How they had shunned your brother for not going down the path they had envisioned for him, how hard you had to fight to make them accept yours was not a worthless one.

Even your best friend seemed to think you were unable to receive affection of the likes of Sunghoon’s—but what you were afraid of was that he wouldn’t handle the amount of affection you knew you were able to give. In a way, that was what had drawn you to Sunghoon in the first place—from the moment you’d met him, you had been able to tell there was something of you in him. It seemed to you he had a heart that was overflowing with love, love to give, love to spare on whoever would have it. In his words, you were him. Nevertheless, your fear of getting hurt overrode your desire to feel Sunghoon’s love, and you didn’t know whether you would be able to revert to your nature after having spent so much time perfecting your new facade.

You knew what it was like to be cold. And so you prematurely braced yourself for it by pushing away Sunghoon’s warmth. If it was going to happen at some point, like Minjeong had hinted it would, might as well get used to it, right?

Except the cold never came. Sunghoon kept on burning relentlessly, no matter how much wood you fed his fire with—you could cling to him for nights on end or ignore his texts for days, without fail, he’d welcome you with his usual, unwavering warmth. He allowed you to bask in it, to momentarily let down your defenses. But something always happened to make you raise them back up—Minjeong would eye the two of you suspiciously, Heeseung would post on Instagram (Is one of the girls on slide five his new fling? Are they serious and it wasn’t that he wasn’t ready for a relationship, it’s that he didn’t want one with me?), or your mom would text you to ask you whether everything was okay.

Yet increasingly, you suspected there was something behind Sunghoon’s warmth, something you had missed, something that was tricking you. He looked at you like you had hung the stars in the night sky, yes; in public, a knowing look from you was enough to have his face turn bright red, and in private, one simple touch had his chest heaving, yes; he expressed disappointment every time you turned him down for a hang-out. Your attachment to him grew, and it became harder to put what the two of you had into words.

It wasn’t just sex—it couldn’t be. It ran deeper than that. You knew what relationships that consisted of just sex were like, and this wasn’t that, it was too good, too intimate to be just that. But you weren’t a couple, that much was clear. Only four other people were aware something was even going on, your brother not included, and you acted as regular friends in front of everyone. Jake had insisted you didn’t fool around with another member of his hockey team because his relationship with Heeseung had already deteriorated enough, he didn’t need to be on weird terms with anyone else on your behalf, so you were not keen on letting him know about what you got up to with Sunghoon. Anyway, even if everyone on earth was in on your shenanigans, you and Sunghoon hadn’t convened on what it all meant. Who knew what was going on in his head? You were no stranger to how deceitful men could be when they were after certain bodily pleasures. Unless Sunghoon said it in so many words, multiple times, you would not be a hundred percent sure he wasn’t only looking to get laid, or wanted someone to act like his girlfriend without the label and the obligations that came with it.

Because you basically were acting like his girlfriend, and he like your boyfriend. You always went to each other. Always, only each other. Whether he needed a second opinion on an outfit, you needed a rant session about your dissertation, either of you a really good orgasm, it was each other you went to.

You waited for him to initiate a conversation about the status of your relationship like one waits for church bells to ring at the turn of the hour—you knew it was coming, but the sound might be too much to bear. And the longer you had to wait, the more you dreaded it. Because how would you react when the time came? You didn’t trust yourself not to run away; neither did Minjeong.

The cold hadn’t come yet. You couldn’t let yourself feel the warmth unreservedly. It was all unpleasantly lukewarm.

Then you went home for a weekend.

It was a good friend from school’s birthday, and despite having spent a lot of time with Sunghoon at the expense of studying, you had done well this semester and thought you deserved a break. After having been away for so long, you had started to underestimate the power of your need for your parents’ approval over you. One small instance that your brother and many other people would’ve brushed off easily was enough to set you off—that same cold look of disappointment when you decided to be honest and told them one of your courses was deadly boring all while being unnecessarily complicated and you had received a low B-grade in it. They barely spoke to you for the rest of the evening.

Exams were a mere few weeks away when you got back. You buried yourself in work, forgot everything and everyone else, even Sunghoon, even yourself.

The cold hadn’t come yet, so you sought it out for yourself.

At the same time, you hadn’t indulged in enough introspection to realize how frustrated you had been at Sunghoon for not trying to create defined boundaries around your relationship. You were unable to do it yourself, you unrealistically wanted him to do the work for the both of you, you got upset when he didn’t. What you were able to do was make up reasons why he wasn’t giving you the what are we talk—he doesn’t like you that much, he just wants sex, he’s settling for you until he finds the next best thing, the real thing. This wasn’t leading anywhere, so you cut it off before he could.

You set foot in the library at seven thirty a.m. on a Monday and every following day of that week, then the next, then the next. He managed to pull you out every now and then—you weren’t that strong against his big pleading eyes, his soft messy hair, his warm hands that entirely covered yours. 

Oftentimes, you were too tired at the end of a long library day to have sex. Sunghoon never held it against you—he seemed more than happy to cook you dinner, let you fall asleep halfway during a movie you had chosen, and cuddle all night long. But your body burned with resentment at his mere presence in your bed, in your home, in your text messages. Who was he to stop you from studying, from achieving your goals, to distract you from that top grade just so he could get off? Even your friends and brother weren’t trying so hard to make you take breaks. The worry that furrowed his eyebrows, which you used to want to see fade away with a caress of your thumb, now infuriated you to no end, it seemed — to you — put-on. He kissed your neck and you wanted to push him away instead of melt into him like you had before.

It was his turn to leave for a weekend for an out-of-town hockey game, and you convinced yourself his absence came as a relief. But on the Sunday evening they got back, as you came out of the library, you spotted your brother waiting right outside of the building.

“Why is it so hard to reach you?” he said when he saw you in lieu of a greeting. “What’s the point of having a phone if you don’t even use it? I called you, like, five times.” “It was on airplane mode.” He rolled his eyes so hard, you could almost hear them moving beneath their lids. “What have you done to Sunghoon?” You stopped dead in your tracks. “Sunghoon? What about him?” you asked, chest constricting at the mere thought of him and at the implication that something had happened to him, even if you were the cause. He hadn’t said it in so many words, but it was clear the truth had been revealed to Jake, and for some reason, it didn’t surprise you. You knew they roomed together and assumed Sunghoon must’ve told him. You tried your best to take it in stride. “I thought we said the hockey team was off-limits after Heeseung,” he said sternly. “Also, Sunghoon, of all people?” he adds before you can say anything. “That’s like, my bro. And he’s the nicest guy ever. Not the perfect pick for one of your victims, I must say-” “Oh, please, he’s not a victim. He’s a consenting adult.” “Then why is he so upset over you spending more time studying than with him?” “That’s the male ego for you, Jakey.” Your brother sighed deeply. “He’s really hurt, Y/N. If you were going to reject him, you could’ve done it nicely.”

You frowned. “Who said anything about rejecting him?”

“You’ve shut him out. You’ve shut all of us out.” Jake was staring at you, trying to get you to look at him, but you kept your gaze on the ground and kicked non-existent pebbles around, hands hiding in your coat pockets. “You might not have meant it as one, but he took it as a rejection.”

You scoff. “There was nothing to reject. It’s not like we’re actually together.”

“Yeah, thanks for telling me anything was going on, by the way.”

“It wasn’t any of your business.”

“It is, ‘cause it concerns my sister and my best friend.”

“He’s your best friend?” you echo, a teasing smile on your lips. He rolls his eyes again.

“God, maybe you guys aren’t so bad together after all. But Y/N—I’m serious. You need to do something.”

“Why can’t he?”

“Because you’re the one who’s been fucking around.”

Ouch. “You’ve known about this whole thing for what, two days, and you’re already blaming me for the fact that it’s not going perfectly? How little do you think of me?”

“I don’t think little of you, Y/N, I just know you have a track record of not being serious about relationships.”

Your body tensed up. Maybe it had been a particularly long day. Maybe it had been a long time coming. Tears well up in your eyes—a sight you’ve not let your brother see in many, many years.

“You know what, fuck this, Jake. I’m stressed enough as it is. I’ve done my best with what I have, and you don’t get to pin this on me. As if I was the only person in that relationship. If Sunghoon has a problem, he can take it up with me directly.”

You walked away. Jake called after you once, and when you didn’t come back, caught up with you. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I don’t wanna upset you. I just-I hate seeing him hurt, you know? And you too.”

“I’m glad my feelings are of some importance to you.”

“Of course they are,” Jake said, too concerned to detect the sarcasm in your words. “And you’re right, I’ve only heard Sunghoon’s side of the story. But it really sounded like-”

“Listen, Jakey, I really don’t wanna do this right now. Let’s talk about it when exams are over. I can’t have anything else taking up mental space. I mixed up my Greek third declension endings earlier.”

“God forbid.”

After some arguing, Jake let you off the hook—“Just for now,” he said. You’d get him to recount his and Sunghoon’s conversation in excruciating detail later.

You come out of an evening of contemplation resenting Sunghoon for bitching about you to your brother, of all people. As if he had been begging on his hands and knees for your devotion, as if you had been cool-headed and detached and not thinking he’ll ask me to be his girlfriend any second now every time you spent time together. You told yourself you were well and truly done with him for the time being. If there was anything to salvage, that was future you’s problem.

But late on Thursday evening, Jay sent you a voice message, something he only did when he was gravely drunk, shouting over loud chatter and rap music that Sunghoon hadn’t shown up to a party and was apparently still practicing. You’d caught wind of their loss at the game, and even though your heart had swollen with concern for Sunghoon, very well aware of how important winning was to him, you’d managed to squash it down. You had bigger fish to fry, namely, an Italian written exam that made up 75% of your overall grade for that course. But after ten minutes of re-reading the same three lines of an article from Republicca, you couldn’t get the image of Sunghoon skirting endlessly around the ice rink and potentially hurting himself out of your head. You told yourself you only had this one exam left and plenty of time to revise for it, packed up your things and headed for the rink.

It was past eleven p.m. when you got there. The rest is history. 

Your grievances came out in an ugly way, but Sunghoon’s refusal to listen to you got the best of your nerves, and although you really did feel that your worry was more genuine than his, you didn’t truly believe that all he wanted from you was sex—at least, you hoped it wasn’t. It was the first time you ever saw any sort of negative emotion on Sunghoon’s handsome features, be it anger, sadness or pain. It tugged at your heartstrings, made you want to wrap him in your arms and get him away from whatever it was that tugged his eyebrows into a frown—even if that was you.

Now, as if the water has inched up your ankles and frozen over, your feet stay planted on the ice for a while after he’s stormed off. You don’t even realize you’re crying until a hot, salty teardrop falls on your lips.

Your feet regain control of themselves, and they seem to move of their own accord as they guide you right in front of Sunghoon’s dorm room. You’re barely conscious as your knuckles rasp against the door, and the tears that had fallen back behind your eyes spill out once more as soon as your eyes meet his. He’s just come out of the shower, a white towel wrapped around his hips, another one that he uses to dry his hair. His movements stop when he realizes who’s standing at his door, mouth falling slightly agape, chest visibly rising and falling. He’s so beautiful, you feel your heart breaking all over again.

Sobs pour uncharacteristically out of you, so much so that you have to hide your face behind your eyes. He ushers you in, holds you tight as everything flows out, the stress, the resentment, the loneliness, the longing. How could he be so close yet so far away this whole time? Did he want those miles of distance between you, or had you forced them upon him?

Sunghoon smoothes your hair down and shushes you, telling you it’s okay and that he’s here, voice strangled as if he’s on the verge of crying, too. A part of you still feels angry towards him, but the bigger part of you knows only he can give you the comfort you need.

“I missed you,” you say when you’ve calmed down partly. You only realize how true those words are once you’ve spoken them. You’ve missed waking up next to him, watching trashy reality TV together, taking coffee breaks that lasted too long in-between study sessions. You’ve missed the scent of his hair, the scent of his skin, you’ve missed watching the way his back muscles shift at the slightest of movements, feeling the weight of his head as he lay on your chest. All for a bunch of As you would’ve gotten without exerting yourself so much anyway.

“I missed you too, baby. Where did you go?” Just like that, you break down again, and he dissolves into apologies. “You’re here now, it’s all that matters,” he whispers against your hair.

“You didn’t see them, Hoon. You didn’t see the way they looked at me,” you say, struggling to speak, unsure you’re even making any sense but unable to stop. “I got As in everything, I worked so hard. Just one B, one week where I had four things due at the same time. Their faces, Hoon, like they were thinking, what was the point of letting me do this degree if I wasn’t even going to excel in it?”

“But you do excel in it, Y/N. You’re amazing at what you do. And even if you weren’t, you love it, and that’s what matters the most.”

“Not to them, it doesn’t.”

“Then forget them.”

“I can’t, Hoon,” you say, voice trembling. “I just can’t. I need them to be proud of me.”

“Isn’t it enough to be proud of yourself?”

“I wish it was.”

“Does it help if I tell you how proud I am of you and of how hard you’ve worked?”

He doesn’t see it, your face is still hidden in the crook of his shoulder, but a small smile makes its way to your lips. “A bit.”

“Then I’ll tell you everyday until you don’t need their approval anymore. They don’t deserve you, Y/N. They don’t even see what an amazing, beautiful, smart daughter they have. Or her sort-of-okay brother.” You laugh, and so does he. Sunghoon’s words and soothing touch against your back already alleviate the weight on your heart. “But I see it.”

You lift your head to look at Sunghoon. His eyes are glassy. “You see how amazing, beautiful and smart Jake is?”

He laughs again as he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah, exactly.” The way he looks at you makes you wish you could go back to the day you met him and right all of your wrongs. No more hiding or running away. You only want to stay under that gaze of his. But sadness soon replaces the joy in his eyes. “You mean so much more to me than you give yourself credit for, Y/N. This has never been just about sex for me. Not even for a second.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Then what has it been about?” 

He frowns like a student in an advanced math class who’s just been asked what three plus three is—isn’t it obvious?

“I love you.”

Your eyes dart between his as if searching for any trace of deceit there. Of course, you don’t find any—because there hasn’t been any since the start. You’d let your own fears invent things that weren’t there. Your lips tremble and you find yourself bawling on his shoulder once more, your tears like a well that digs deeper and deeper so as to never run out of water.

“I hope these are good tears,” Sunghoon says light-heartedly, but you can detect the nervousness behind his words. You nod your head vigorously, willing yourself to say something back, but your tears overflow, make your breath hitch.

“Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” you manage in between sobs.

“I didn’t think it was the kind of thing you wanted to hear,” he explains.

“I was waiting for you to say something.”

“I didn’t know. I thought I was being obvious enough.”

“You probably were. I was the one who couldn’t see it,” you admit.

“I thought you didn’t want me like that.”

“I thought you didn’t want me like that.”

Sunghoon chuckles, a sound of relief. “I’ve wanted you like that since the start.”

“I think I have too.”

“You think?”

You lift your head again and when your eyes meet Sunghoon’s, it feels like coming out of your hiding place hours after the round of hide-and-seek was over. He hadn’t forgotten to come and find you. He was waiting for you to reveal yourself.

Which goes against the rules of hide-and-seek, but you don’t blame him.

You smile; he smiles, deep dimples carving crescents into his cheeks. “I love you, too.”

You hadn’t realized how cold your hands were until Sunghoon found them.

--

Everything after that was a blurry mess of tangled limbs, warm kisses, happy tears and relieved laughter.

Your touch had always been intoxicating, but Sunghoon was particularly sensitive to it that night. The mix of not having felt you close in weeks and the heightened emotions driven by your confessions made his skin tingle everywhere it came in contact with yours. He’d never slept so little without regretting it in the morning.

It goes without saying that most of the night was not spent talking, but you still had things you needed to discuss. The two of you laid out all of your fears, and Sunghoon was immensely relieved to finally get a glimpse into that mind of yours. He made you promise to always tell him what was going on, and he promised you you’d never be too much for him. Always just right.

Now, he gets to wait outside of your exam hall with your favorite flowers in hand, to put his arm around your shoulders during movie nights instead of holding your hand beneath the blanket, to kiss you over the barrier at the end of a hockey game he won. Heeseung’s narrowed eyes at the sight of the two of you is an added bonus.

You text him that you’ll hang around the locker rooms after the game so that you can head to the party together. The end of December is nearing and you can’t wait for the new year, for twelve whole months of not hiding your feelings for Sunghoon from anyone, not even from yourself, least of all from him. At least, that’s what you told him in a sappy, drunken voice message at two a.m. the previous night when the girls made you drink a bottle of prosecco to yourself—their way of congratulating you for an arduous but successful exam period.

He steps out of the locker rooms with Jake and Jay. You’ve never looked quite as pretty, face lighting up as you spot the three of them, his jersey on your shoulders. You’d worn it during your last exam—“I thought it might bring me luck to wear a pretty boy’s name on my back,” you’d told him, to which he’d replied that it was good practice for when you actually took his last name. You’d looked away, fighting a smile.

Now your smile is full-blown as you look at him, but the downside of being an official couple is that Jake has now more material to tease the both of you with.

“Oh my God, you waited for me, what a sweet sister I have been blessed with!” he exclaims, arms outstretched as he barrels towards you.

“Fuck off, Sim,” you say but accept his hug nonetheless. “Nice game.”

“I know.” He pulls away and ruffles your hair. Jay nods at you like you’re someone he shared a class with back in second year and not his friend of almost three years.

As if on cue, just as Sunghoon reaches you and envelops you in a hug, Jake turns around and yells loud enough for all the players spilling out of the locker rooms, “And don’t forget to wear protection! I’m not ready to be an uncle yet.”

“That’s disgusting, Jakey,” you yell back, and he smiles proudly. Sunghoon had never thought the day would come where you’d initiate a kiss in a room full of people—he’s on cloud nine when you take his head in your hands and press your lips to his, murmuring praises about how well he played.

“It was all for you, baby,” he says, trying to appear cool even though a blush is creeping up his ears. 

“Not for the recruiter of the national team?” you asked with a smirk.

He smiles, shrugging. “Maybe a bit for him too. You’re the one I want to impress.”

“Consider me impressed.” You stand on your tiptoes to kiss him a second time.

You head towards your friends, hands warm against each other.

--

In classic mysterious Jay fashion, he organizes a New Year’s Eve party that he can’t attend himself.

He’s on holiday in some exotic country halfway across the world with his family, but he’s offered up their house for a celebration and tasked Jake with making sure no one trashes anything.

The party started three hours ago, and you’re sure it’s in full swing by now—you’re sure everyone is having a jolly old time, getting drunk enough to welcome the new year with a hangover, searching the crowds of people for the person they’ll want to kiss at midnight. You’re sure that people are having so much fun that whoever notices your and Sunghoon’s absence might think you’re missing out.

And maybe you are—but there’s nowhere you’d rather be than where you are now, straddling your boyfriend’s lap in the backseat of his car. He’s a little bit tipsy, you’re a little bit tipsy, it’s obvious in the way you kiss each other, messy, impatient, interspersed with giggles and with perhaps too much tongue. Your hands are not much more polite, harshly grabbing at his hair just the way you know he likes it, and neither are his, having snuck their way underneath your black satin dress long ago already.

When Sunghoon pulled you away from the party, you’d appropriately exclaimed, “But the party?”, to which he replied, “Fuck the party.” It wasn’t like him to curse, or to have anything but a bashful smile on his lips, like a guilty dog who’d been caught doing something it knew it shouldn’t, even though he was just standing there, so when you see his stoney expression, you think something serious must’ve happened.

The something serious turned out to be “that guy who was touching your shoulder.”

Clearly, it’d take Sunghoon a little bit more time to be entirely secure in your relationship. In the meantime, you didn’t mind letting him fuck his jealousy away.

Although he’d been the one to whisk you away, you’re the one who finds yourself begging for him to speed things up. Your flimsy thong does absolutely nothing, so you’re basically grinding yourself bare against his clothed erection—and it’s not like the fabric of his suit trousers is very thick, either. A girl can only put up with so much dry humping before having her boyfriend’s dick inside of her goes from being a want to a need.

“Need you, Hoon,” you coo against the shell of his ear. A few words usually do the trick, but Sunghoon has other plans tonight.

“What do you need, baby?”

“You.”

“I’m right here,” he says, punctuating his words with a squeeze of your ass.

“You know what I mean,” you say, practically whining.

“I’m not sure I do, actually.”

You pull away and, looking at him directly, say, “God, Sunghoon. I want you to fuck me.” His shit-eating grin simultaneously makes you roll your eyes and goes straight to your core.

“That I can do.”

He keeps one hand on your ass as he loosens his tie first, then undoes his belt and trouser buttons. His slacks and underwear pool around his ankles, and all he needs to do is hike your dress up around your hips and push your thong to the side. You wrap a hand around his dick, but your mind is too hazy to do much with it—he’s started rubbing circles on your clit with his thumb, the pressure and speed as perfect as it always is. You let your forehead fall against his shoulders and moan unabashedly, thankful he decided to park the car far enough away from the house.

“You like it when I touch you like this, baby?”

“I love it, Hoon.”

He hums his approval. “You’re so perfect. So perfect and so wet for me, isn’t that right?”

You start to say “yes,” but you interrupt yourself with a gasp. You hold onto Sunghoon’s arm, feel his muscles move under your palm as he slips two fingers inside of you without warning. “Please,” you choke out, a tight knot already forming in your stomach.

“Please what?”

“Need you. Need your dick, baby.”

He smiles as if endeared, but his words couldn’t be more different. “Maybe you should’ve thought of that before going off with some random guy the one minute I was somewhere else.”

“He’s just-fuck, Hoon, he’s just a mutual friend of Jay and I. Fuck, right there, baby.” Forming coherent sentences when Sunghoon’s fingers flick against that perfect spot deep inside you again and again is no easy task, but you need to defend yourself.

“Right there?” he echoes, voice a whisper against your ear. When you nod, eyes shut tight, he slips his fingers out. You look at him, betrayed. “That’s too bad. Why don’t you ask him to touch you right there, hm?”

You don’t know how much of his jealousy is put-on to get you to beg and how much of it is real. You make a mental note to have a conversation with him about this later—right now, you don’t mind playing along if it means your boyfriend will deign to fuck you. You know he wants to, he’s just making you work harder.

You move your hand up and down along his dick, brush his reddening tip with your palm every now and then. “He couldn’t touch me like you, Hoon.” You lean in and trail kisses along his neck, his jawline, his ears. “Can’t fuck me like you, either.”

With exams, hockey matches and any other responsibilities out of the way for winter break, the two of you had had an obscene amount of sex in the past couple of weeks. You’d done other things, of course, namely having much-needed conversations with each other, your friends, your families. Sunghoon’s mother was overjoyed at the news, glad her “duckling had finally met someone” — her words — and his sister kept stealing his phone from him to talk to you when you were on FaceTime. You and Jake had gone home for two days for Christmas, and although Jake had needed to pep talk you into it for over an hour, you managed to tell them that you wouldn’t stand for being belittled for your life choices anymore.

But in-between these conversations, you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other. You’ve grown more comfortable with each passing day, both of you bolder in vocalizing what you want and how you feel. And so, you quickly found out that your Sunghoon, your shy, sweet Sunghoon, got off like nothing else on salacious words. In line with his possessiveness, he loved hearing about how he and only he could do these things to you; in line with your need for validation, you could practically come from hearing his praises alone.

“That’s right, baby.” Like the gentleman he is, he fishes out the condom wrapper he had gotten ready from his trouser pocket, tears it open with his mouth and rolls the condom on with one hand, his other one still preoccupied with you. “Come here, my love,” he whispers, his sweet tone worlds away from his previous teasing, almost cocky one. He grabs your hips, guides you closer to him and lines your entrance with the tip of his dick. He lets you go at your own pace, rubs your thighs soothingly as you sink down onto him slowly and adjust to his size. You throw your head back, mind hazy with pleasure as you move your hips back-and-forth against him.

“You feel so good, baby. You’re doing so well for me.” His words make you pick up your pace, and you wrap your arms around his neck, fingers grabbing at his hair and sides of your faces pressed against each other as you start lifting your hips and sinking back down. Sunghoon’s hands hold your ass tightly, guiding you up and down. It’s hot in the car; sweat runs down your hairline and your back, air is running low, the windows are fogging up, but it only adds to the dizzying bliss growing in you. Even the seatbelt receiver digging into your knee doesn’t bother you.

“Feels so good, Hoon,” you moan.

“I know, baby.”

Your hours of studying everyday means your thighs aren’t the strongest—good thing for you that your boyfriend has enough stamina and strength for the both of you. As soon as he feels you tiring, your rhythm becoming slower and more irregular, he picks up your slack. One hand on your back, one arm around your waist, he presses you close to him, his hold on you so tight you can barely move. He bucks his hips harshly into yours, faster and faster, making you cry out with every brush of his tip against that spot deep inside of you. Your whole body shakes with pleasure as your moans grow higher and louder, until the tension in your stomach hits its apex and unravels. A gasp leaves your throat as you come around him, but he’s unrelenting, the overstimulation quickly making tears form in your eyes. Strings of curses and praises of how perfect you are spill out of Sunghoon’s mouth disorderly as he reaches his own end.

Together, you take your time catching your breath, his fingers roaming your back while you trail soft kisses all over his face and neck. “My pretty baby,” he whispers, and it makes your heart swell with so much affection for him that you press your lips to his, shutting him up in case he says something that actually has you exploding.

You wish you could spend some more time just the two of you before returning to the party, but when you check your phone, it’s already five minutes to midnight—he puts his clothes back on as you fix your hair in a rush, Sunghoon helping you wipe away traces of mascara under your eyes, and together, run back to the living room where everyone has gathered. You find Minjeong, Yunjin, Chaewon and Jake, who has Jay on FaceTime. It’s only five p.m. where he is.

Everyone counts down from ten together. The first thing you do in the new year is kiss Park Sunghoon—and you’ll make sure it’s the last thing you do, too.

© asahicore on Tumblr, 2024. please do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works. support your creators by reblogging and leaving feedback!

permanent taglist: @zreamy @sunghoonmybeloved @lalalalawon @sd211 @w3bqrl @raikea10 @wntrnghts @moonlighthoon @4imhry @rikisly @loves0ft @iamliacamila @theboingsuckerasseater9000 @chaechae-23 @baekhyuns-lipchain @hyuckslvr @vernonburger @amorbonbon @fluerz @jakeflvrz (ask to be removed/added!)

[eintausendschoen]

POV: It is Valentines Day. You followed an invitation to a bar on Mount Helicon, for an event called "The Blue Hearts Club". A mysterious invite extended by a total stranger... with the promise of a relaxing night out. Some well deserved Me-Time.

At the door, the owner of the place greets you like she knows you. She says her name is Kalliope, one of the Muses, but you do not know her.

When she points you at a crowded table at the back of the room you follow.

There, of course, you realize what the invite meant by...

... "Me-Time. Uh-huh.... riiiiight..."

The Muse winks at you as she pases, distributing another round of drinks. "Welcome to Valentine's!", she laughs, and from across the table laughter joins: "Yeah, with yourself!!"

For @dxwart — sorry to spring this on you but ... ah... that WAISTCOAT just had to be shown around. 💜 (link to the artwork)

🤩Shoutouts to all the beautiful beautiful people who lend me their designs to play with to make this date happen. You are all AMAZING artists and THANK YOU for all the good vibes here and making Poseidonverse happen!!🤩

From left to right, top to bottom and then right to left again (in terms of order 🤌) because life in the sea is a circle: In purple and gold, Poseidon by @rin-sith - he is so much fun to draw it is riddiculous.

Next to him, the cheeky lil' king (who really isn't little at all, believe me, everyone else is just so enormous, there is a sizechart but it blew the scale) with the luscious hair and the prettiest scales: Poseidon in a more mortal-ish form by @ruthlessness69

Okay, you all know him and he's half across the table already. This king is having LA FIESTA tonight, because he got a list, and now he got more names. @messymoonmad - he did that all on his own, I swear by Styx. (I love him so much.)

Yeah, canon Poseidon. He was there first, and now he's having a hard time holding onto his drink. 😘

Seacreature at the back is the lower half of @tagzpite glorious Poseidon. He might have just lost a bet, but he is a good sport. Also, checking out that blue-haired devil across the table already. (I just borrowed him last minute, he got dragged along - hope it's alright. He'll be returned intact.) Next three... most chaotic throuple (if you can call it that) in the history of saltwater. Poseidon of @pink-noah tried to snatch the hand of @kamuch-kommandos hot dark menace. Got snatched in turn and poor him, Tall Dark and Handsome got a death grip. All just because Poseidon by @bigidiotenergytm went to win a dare and smooch the Big Gun at risk of ear-injury.

Guess @melodyartists Poseidon owe's him a drink now. (He squeezed in last minute when I stumbled upon your post where he introduced himself to the popular girls, and of course I had to bring him into this mess. Hope it's alright? :)) ) Poseidon by @anniflamma, but her awesome new design. He wanted a word with @neal-illustrator's (neals not active here afaik but tagging anyway), so they made an appearance. Mostly because...

...you know them, you love them, you windbaarrrghl. Is it Cloudysseus shlepping Cloudseidon in to steal grapes together? Is it Zeus spying on his brother's Valentines date? Nobody knows. @kdpartworks thank you so much for lending them - I'll return them safe and sound when Poseidon gets back home.

To his left... @wukyma - he did the vase-face again. Why is he so cute when he does that? I'm such a big fan this wet grumpy cat, especially with Polites. (And how do you draw his curls??? That was so hard!) Of course he'd sit next to Gorgeous by @arraunean and trade war stories. No armour for the bar, but these two are classic guys and this is Helicon, so the comfy draperies to go with the wine.

And last - your host's 'not-quite-boss': he's mine, :))

Happy Valentine's everyone <3

[velvetvisionsaurora]

Alpha ATEEZ x Assistant Omega Reader

Warnings: omega reader, alpha ateez, scenting, heats, ruts, slow burn, eventual smut, forced command, more to come!

When Y/n accepts a position as assistant to alpha K-pop group ATEEZ, she's prepared with professional skills and scent blockers to hide her omega status. What she's not prepared for is the immediate, inexplicable connection she feels with all eight members—a resonance that defies her careful boundaries.

As Y/n becomes eerily attuned to their needs, her suppressed omega nature begins to emerge: purring for the first time in years, responding to alpha growls, feeling safe in ways she never has before. When a protective incident reveals the depth of the members' attachment to her, Y/n must confront the possibility that what binds them together is something ancient and profound.

Authors note: 😳 You all blew up the fic, lol. I’m glad everyone loves it! Unfortunately though the Taglist is currently closed! I’m so sorry everyone! Thank you for all the reposts and love! Keep leaving comment on your thoughts! I love reading them. 💜

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Masterlist

Chapter 3: First Day

The two weeks following your job acceptance passed in a whirlwind of activity. Between giving notice at your previous job, packing up your belongings, and saying goodbye to your roommates, you'd barely had time to process the magnitude of the change you were about to undertake. Manager Minwoo had been in constant contact, sending over contracts, employee handbooks, and preliminary schedules to help you prepare.

Now, as you stood beside the small moving truck that contained your life's possessions, staring up at the ATEEZ residence, reality finally hit you. This was happening. Today, you were officially starting as their assistant, and this beautiful property was about to become your home.

You reached up to check your scent blocker patch, a gesture that had become almost ritualistic in its frequency over the past two weeks. Working and living in such close proximity to eight alpha idols meant you couldn't afford even a moment's lapse in concealing your omega status.

Taking a deep breath, you picked up the small box containing your immediate essentials and approached the front gate. Before you could even press the intercom button, the gate swung open, revealing Kim Hongjoong waiting on the other side.

"I saw the truck pull up," he explained with a warm smile that made your heart skip. "Welcome to your new home, Y/n."

Hongjoong had been watching the driveway periodically all morning, trying not to seem overeager about your arrival. When he finally spotted the moving truck turning into their street, he'd immediately headed downstairs, ignoring Wooyoung's knowing smirk and San's amused comment about "eager alphas."

Now, seeing you standing there with a box in your arms and nervous anticipation written across your face, Hongjoong felt that same inexplicable pull he'd experienced during your interview. There was something about your presence that resonated with him on a deeply instinctive level—something his alpha senses recognized even without being able to detect your scent.

"Let me help you with that," he offered, reaching for the box in your arms.

"Oh, thank you," you replied, relinquishing it with a grateful smile. "It's not too heavy, just some essentials I wanted to keep with me."

Hongjoong noticed the way you unconsciously touched the spot behind your ear—where a scent blocker patch would typically be placed. He understood the precaution; many industry professionals, regardless of their status, wore blockers to maintain privacy and professionalism. Still, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of curiosity about what your natural scent might be.

"The others are inside," he said, leading you toward the house. "Fair warning: they're a bit excited about your arrival."

Your stomach fluttered with nervous energy at Hongjoong's words. During your interview, you'd only met three of the eight members. The prospect of meeting the remaining five—all alphas with strong personalities according to everything you'd read and watched about them—was both exciting and intimidating.

"I'm looking forward to meeting everyone," you said, trying to project confidence despite your nerves. "I hope I can live up to expectations."

Hongjoong glanced at you, his expression softening. "Just be yourself. That's what impressed us in the first place."

Before you could respond, the front door of the main house flew open, and Wooyoung burst out, his face lit up with enthusiasm.

"She's here!" he called over his shoulder before bounding down the steps toward you. "Welcome, Y/n! We've been counting down the days!"

You couldn't help but laugh at his exuberance. "Thank you. It's good to see you again, Wooyoung-ssi."

"Just Wooyoung, please," he insisted, falling into step beside you. "We're going to be seeing way too much of each other for formalities."

Inside the house, the remaining members had gathered in the living room, curiosity drawing them together to meet the new assistant who had made such an impression on Hongjoong, San, and Wooyoung. Seonghwa had insisted on cleaning the entire common area that morning, despite their housekeeper having done so just the day before.

"You're fussing," Yeosang had commented quietly, watching Seonghwa rearrange the throw pillows for the third time.

"I'm ensuring we make a good first impression," Seonghwa corrected him, though he couldn't fully explain the strange sense of anticipation he felt. The way Hongjoong and the others had described their immediate connection to you had piqued his interest. Such reactions were typically scent-driven for alphas, yet they'd been clear that you wore blockers.

Now, hearing Wooyoung's excited exclamation from outside, Seonghwa straightened, smoothing down his sweater and assuming the composed posture that had earned him the nickname of "pack mom" among the members.

The front door opened, and all eyes turned to see Hongjoong enter, carrying a box, with you and Wooyoung close behind.

You stepped into the living room and immediately felt the weight of seven pairs of eyes focused intently on you. Despite having seen each of these men countless times in videos and photos, being in their presence was an entirely different experience. The collective alpha energy in the room was palpable, creating an atmosphere that would have been overwhelming if not for the genuine warmth in their expressions.

"Everyone," Hongjoong said, placing your box on a nearby table, "this is Y/n L/n, our new assistant. Y/n, you've already met San and Wooyoung, but let me introduce you to the rest of the team."

One by one, he indicated each member. "Seonghwa, our eldest." A tall, strikingly handsome man with gentle eyes nodded politely. "Yunho." A sunshine smile from the tallest member. "Yeosang." A slight nod from a man with delicate features that belied his alpha status. "Mingi." An enthusiastic wave from a member with a deep voice. "And Jongho, our youngest." The final member, compact but radiating strength, offered a respectful bow.

"It's an honor to meet all of you," you said, bowing formally despite Wooyoung's earlier dismissal of formalities. "I'm looking forward to working with you and supporting your schedules and activities."

Seonghwa found himself unable to look away from you. The moment you'd walked into the room, something had shifted in the atmosphere—a subtle change that his alpha senses detected immediately. Despite not being able to catch your scent through the blockers you wore, he felt an inexplicable draw toward your presence. It was unlike anything he'd experienced before, a strange mixture of protectiveness and recognition that made no logical sense.

Beside him, he could sense similar reactions from the other members who hadn't met you yet. Yunho was practically vibrating with friendly energy, while even the typically reserved Yeosang seemed unusually attentive. Jongho's posture had subtly straightened, his eyes tracking your movements with curious intensity.

"We're glad to have you join us," Seonghwa said, stepping forward to properly welcome you. "I hope the guys didn't overwhelm you during your interview."

"Not at all," you replied with a warm smile that sent an unexpected wave of satisfaction through him. "Everyone has been very welcoming."

There was something in your voice, a gentle confidence that immediately put him at ease while simultaneously intriguing him. Now he understood what Hongjoong had tried to explain—there was indeed something special about your presence that transcended typical first impressions.

You found yourself particularly drawn to Seonghwa's calm, composed aura. Where Wooyoung radiated chaotic energy and Hongjoong exuded leadership, Seonghwa projected a nurturing stability that immediately made you feel at ease despite the intimidating circumstances.

"We've prepared a welcome lunch," Seonghwa continued, gesturing toward what you assumed was the direction of the kitchen. "But perhaps you'd like to see the guesthouse first and get settled a bit?"

"That's very thoughtful, thank you," you replied gratefully. The prospect of having a moment to collect yourself before diving into social interaction was appealing. "I would appreciate a few minutes to bring in some essentials."

Yunho immediately stepped forward. "We can help with your moving truck," he offered with an easy smile. "Between the eight of us, we should make quick work of it."

"Oh, you really don't have to—" you began, but were quickly interrupted by multiple voices insisting they wanted to help.

"Consider it part of our welcome," Jongho said, speaking for the first time. His voice was unexpectedly gentle coming from someone with such a strong physical presence.

"Eight alphas with nothing better to do on a Sunday," Mingi added with a grin. "Either we help you move, or Wooyoung convinces us to try another one of his 'genius' prank ideas."

"Hey!" Wooyoung protested, though there was no real offense in his tone.

You couldn't help but laugh, already feeling the tension in your shoulders beginning to ease. "Well, when you put it that way, I'd be grateful for the help."

The next hour passed in a flurry of activity as all eight ATEEZ members helped transport your belongings from the truck to the guesthouse. What should have been a simple moving process quickly evolved into something resembling organized chaos, with good-natured bickering over who would carry what and Seonghwa's increasingly exasperated attempts to direct traffic.

San found himself volunteering for multiple trips, drawn by the opportunity to learn more about you through your possessions. The small collection of books—a mix of business references, fantasy novels, and memoirs—spoke of a curious, multifaceted mind. The carefully packed box of houseplants suggested nurturing tendencies. Each item offered a glimpse into who you were beyond the professional facade.

"You have good taste in music," he commented, noticing your vinyl collection as he placed it carefully on the shelf you'd indicated. "I love this album too."

"Really?" you replied, lighting up with genuine pleasure at the shared interest. "It's one of my favorites. The composition is so layered—you discover something new every time you listen."

San felt a warm satisfaction at having found this connection with you. "Exactly! That's what I always tell Wooyoung, but he doesn't have the patience to listen to anything more than twice."

Your laugh in response sent an unexpected wave of pleasure through him—a reaction so visceral it momentarily caught him off guard.

You were both surprised and touched by how thoughtfully the members handled your belongings. Jongho carefully carried your boxes marked "fragile" as if they contained priceless artifacts rather than simply kitchen dishes. Yeosang, despite his quiet demeanor, took charge of organizing your books and music collection with surprising attention to detail. Mingi enthusiastically placed your plants around the living area, declaring they "improved the energy" of the space.

Even more surprising was how quickly you felt at ease in their presence. Despite being surrounded by eight alpha idols, you found yourself laughing at Wooyoung and San's playful banter, gratefully accepting Seonghwa's practical suggestions for furniture arrangement, and appreciating Hongjoong's careful respect of your space and preferences.

"Where would you like this?" Hongjoong asked, holding up a framed photo of you with who he assumed were your parents.

"On the side table, please," you replied, watching as he placed it carefully on the surface, angling it slightly before stepping back.

"Your parents?" he inquired with gentle curiosity.

You nodded, a fond smile crossing your face. "Yes. They live in Busan now. They're both teachers."

There was something warm in Hongjoong's expression as he regarded the photo. "You have your mother's smile."

The personal observation, delivered with such quiet sincerity, sent an unexpected flutter through your chest. "Thank you. That's what everyone says."

By early afternoon, the moving truck was empty, and your belongings were distributed throughout the guesthouse. What would have taken you the entire day to accomplish on your own had been completed in just over an hour with the enthusiastic help of all eight members.

"I can't thank you all enough," you said sincerely, looking around at your new space, already beginning to feel like home. "You've made this so much easier than I expected."

"That's what pack—I mean, that's what teammates do," Yunho quickly corrected himself, though the slip didn't go unnoticed by the others. There was a moment of awkward silence before Seonghwa smoothly changed the subject.

"The welcome lunch should be ready now," he said. "Unless you'd prefer some time alone to settle in?"

You considered the offer. While part of you did want to begin unpacking and organizing your new space, the genuine warmth and welcome you'd received made you reluctant to cut short this initial bonding time. "Lunch sounds wonderful, thank you."

"Excellent," Seonghwa said with a satisfied smile. "I prepared japchae and bulgogi—I hope that's alright?"

"You cooked?" you asked, both surprised and touched by the gesture.

"Seonghwa-hyung always cooks for special occasions," Jongho explained with a hint of pride in his voice. "And new pack members definitely qualify as special."

"Team members," Hongjoong corrected firmly, giving Jongho a pointed look that made you wonder about the significance of the distinction.

The main house's dining area was impressive—a large table that comfortably seated ten, with expansive windows overlooking the garden. As you took your seat between Yunho and Yeosang, you couldn't help but feel a surreal sense of displacement. Just two weeks ago, you'd been having ramen in your tiny apartment with your roommates. Now, you were sitting at a table with ATEEZ, about to share a meal that Seonghwa had prepared specially to welcome you.

"I should warn you," Yunho said in a conspiratorial whisper, leaning slightly toward you, "once you taste Seonghwa-hyung's cooking, the company cafeteria will never satisfy you again."

You laughed softly. "I'll consider myself warned."

As Seonghwa and Hongjoong brought out the food—far more dishes than you'd expected—the atmosphere around the table was relaxed and welcoming. The members fell into a natural rhythm of conversation, effortlessly including you without making you feel put on the spot.

"So, Y/n," Mingi asked as he passed you a dish, "what made you want to work in the entertainment industry? Specifically with idols?"

Hongjoong found himself particularly interested in your answer to Mingi's question. He'd reviewed your resume thoroughly, noted your previous experience, but the "why" behind your career choices hadn't been something they'd explored deeply in the interview.

He watched as you considered the question thoughtfully before answering, struck by how naturally you fit at their table despite having just met most of them today.

"I've always been drawn to creative environments," you explained, accepting the dish from Mingi with a grateful nod. "There's an energy in the entertainment industry that you don't find anywhere else—this blend of artistic expression and structured business that creates something meaningful."

You paused, wondering how much to reveal. "As for working with idols specifically... I admire the dedication it takes to succeed in this industry. The training, the performances, the constant growth and reinvention. Being able to support that process, even in an administrative capacity, feels fulfilling to me."

Yeosang, who had been quietly observant until now, spoke up. "That's a thoughtful answer. Most people just say they want to be close to celebrities."

You laughed softly. "Well, I won't pretend the opportunity to work with artists I respect isn't exciting. But it's the behind-the-scenes work that actually interests me the most—helping create the structure that allows creativity to flourish."

Hongjoong nodded, a look of approval crossing his face. "That's exactly what we need—someone who understands both sides of the equation."

As the meal progressed, you found yourself relaxing more and more in their company. Despite being surrounded by alpha idols, you felt neither intimidated nor out of place. There was something about their dynamic—the way they interacted with each other and with you—that created a sense of belonging you hadn't anticipated feeling so quickly.

Wooyoung kept you laughing with dramatic stories of their trainee days. Yunho shared his enthusiasm for an online game you also happened to enjoy. Jongho impressed you with his thoughtful questions about your previous work experience. Even the quieter Yeosang offered occasional comments that revealed a sharp wit beneath his reserved exterior.

Throughout it all, you were acutely aware of Hongjoong's attentive presence at the head of the table. Though he didn't dominate the conversation, his subtle guidance of the discussion and the way the others naturally deferred to him in certain moments spoke volumes about his leadership style.

Seonghwa, too, commanded your attention in a different way—his nurturing energy evident in how he ensured everyone's plates and glasses were filled, how he gently steered the conversation when it veered toward topics that might make you uncomfortable as a newcomer.

Seonghwa couldn't explain the satisfaction he felt watching you enjoy the food he'd prepared. Each appreciative comment or pleased expression sent a wave of alpha contentment through him—a primal response to providing for... for what? You weren't pack, weren't family, weren't anything beyond their new employee. And yet, his instincts were responding as if you were something more.

He caught Hongjoong's eye across the table and recognized the same confusing mix of emotions reflected there. Something unspoken passed between them—an acknowledgment that whatever this strange pull was, they both felt it.

"I hope the guesthouse has everything you need," Seonghwa said, turning his attention back to you. "If there's anything missing or anything you'd like changed, please don't hesitate to let us know."

"It's perfect," you assured him with a warm smile that sent another inexplicable wave of pleasure through him. "More than perfect, actually. I still can't believe I get to live there."

"You even have a good view of the pool," San commented with a grin. "You should see how the sunlight hits the water in the late afternoon—it's beautiful."

"Maybe we should have a welcome pool party," Wooyoung suggested enthusiastically.

"We’re in the middle of preparing for a comeback and tour," Jongho pointed out. "Plus it’s barley summer.” 

"Details, details," Wooyoung dismissed with a wave of his hand. "We have a heater for it."

You laughed, the sound light and melodic. "That sounds lovely Wooyoung. I’m not much of a swimmer though, more of a sunbather.” 

"I could teach you," both San and Wooyoung offered simultaneously, then turned to glare at each other as Seonghwa rolled his eyes.

---

After lunch, Hongjoong suggested showing you the office where you'd be primarily working. The others dispersed to various parts of the house, though not without Wooyoung extracting a promise that you'd join them for movie night later if you weren't too tired from moving.

"Don't feel obligated," Hongjoong told you quietly as he led you toward the office. "Wooyoung can be... enthusiastic. But everyone understands if you need time to settle in."

"I appreciate that," you replied, touched by his consideration. "But I think I'd like to join, if that's alright. It seems like a good way to get to know everyone better."

Hongjoong smiled, a glint of approval in his eyes. "It is. Just be prepared—movie selection can get competitive around here."

The office, which you'd briefly seen during your interview, had been thoroughly prepared for your arrival. Someone had placed a small vase of fresh flowers beside the computer.

"Seonghwa's touch," Hongjoong explained, noticing your gaze on the flowers. "He thought it would make the space feel more welcoming."

"That was very thoughtful of him," you said, genuinely moved by the gesture.

Hongjoong showed you the filing system, the scheduling software, and the various communication channels used by the team. Though you'd received preliminary information from Manager Minwoo, having Hongjoong walk you through everything personally made the overwhelming amount of information seem more manageable.

"Your first official day is tomorrow," he reminded you. "Today is just for getting settled. But I thought you might want to see where everything is located."

"I appreciate that," you said gratefully. "It helps to get oriented before diving in."

Hongjoong hesitated, then added, "I've scheduled the first few days to be more training than execution. You'll shadow Manager Minwoo tomorrow, and then gradually take over responsibilities as you become comfortable with them."

The consideration in his planning touched you. "Thank you. That sounds perfect."

---

As evening approached, you took some time alone in the guesthouse to unpack essentials and freshen up before the movie night. You'd just finished arranging your toiletries in the bathroom when there was a knock at your door.

Opening it, you found Seonghwa standing there with a small basket in his hands.

"I thought you might not have had time to go grocery shopping yet," he explained, holding out the basket which contained fresh fruit, some snacks, a carton of milk, and a few other breakfast essentials. "Just to tide you over until you can stock your kitchen properly."

The thoughtful gesture caught you off guard. "That's so kind of you, Seonghwa-ssi. Thank you."

"Just Seonghwa is fine," he said with a gentle smile. "And it's no trouble. I remember how chaotic my first day moving in was."

As you accepted the basket, your fingers briefly brushed against his. Despite the scent blocker preventing any pheromone detection, you felt a strange electric sensation at the contact—a momentary connection that seemed to surprise Seonghwa as much as it did you, judging by the slight widening of his eyes.

He recovered quickly, however. "Movie night starts in about thirty minutes in the main living room, if you're still planning to join us."

"I'll be there," you promised, still feeling slightly off-balance from whatever had just passed between you.

With a polite nod, Seonghwa turned to leave, then paused. "Y/n," he said, turning back slightly. "I'm glad you're here. I think you're going to be good for the team."

Before you could respond, he continued on his way, leaving you standing in the doorway with the basket in your hands and a strange warmth spreading through your chest.

The main living room had been transformed for movie night. The large sectional sofa was now covered in blankets and pillows, with additional cushions arranged on the floor. The impressive entertainment system was queued up, and various snacks and drinks covered the coffee table.

"Y/nnie!" Wooyoung exclaimed when you entered, patting the space beside him. "We saved you a seat."

"Don't feel obligated," Yeosang said quietly from a nearby armchair. "There are other options if you prefer."

You smiled at the consideration, opting for a spot on the sofa between Yunho and Hongjoong—close enough to be sociable but not directly next to the exuberant Wooyoung, who pouted briefly before bouncing back.

"We're still debating the movie," Hongjoong explained as you settled in. "It's between an action thriller Mingi wants to see and a new fantasy film Yunho's been recommending."

"What about you?" San asked, genuinely curious about your preference. "Any vote to break the tie?"

You considered for a moment. "I'm fine with either, but I do enjoy fantasy if it's well done."

Yunho pumped his fist in victory while Mingi groaned dramatically. "Next time, we're watching my pick," he insisted, though there was no real frustration in his tone.

As the movie began, you couldn't help but marvel at how quickly you'd been included in their ritual, as if you'd always been a part of it. The easy camaraderie, the playful bickering over snacks, the comfortable silence that fell as everyone became engrossed in the story—it all felt surprisingly natural.

Halfway through the film, you became aware of a subtle warmth beside you. Hongjoong had shifted slightly closer, though still maintaining a respectful distance. There was something comforting about his proximity—a sense of security that made you sink a little deeper into the couch, your tension from the busy day finally beginning to dissipate.

Across the room, Seonghwa watched this development with thoughtful eyes, noting the way Hongjoong's typically alert posture had relaxed in your presence. Something was definitely happening here—something none of them fully understood yet, but that all of them seemed to be feeling in their own ways.

As the movie reached its climax, you stifled a yawn, the exhaustion of moving day finally catching up with you. Hongjoong noticed immediately.

"You've had a long day," he said quietly, his voice pitched so only you could hear. "Feel free to head back to the guesthouse whenever you need to. No one will be offended."

The consideration in his words warmed you. "Thank you. I think I'll stay until the end, though. I'm enjoying the film."

What you didn't say was that you were also enjoying the company—this unexpected sense of belonging that had developed over the course of a single day. Despite the challenges that surely lay ahead—maintaining professional boundaries, keeping your omega status concealed, navigating the complex dynamics of eight alpha personalities—in this moment, you felt that you'd made the right decision in accepting this position.

As the credits rolled on the movie, you stifled another yawn, the exhaustion of moving day finally catching up with you. Though you were enjoying the company, your eyelids had grown increasingly heavy throughout the last thirty minutes of the film.

"I think I should call it a night," you said, reluctantly rising from your comfortable spot on the sofa. "Thank you all for such a warm welcome today. I really appreciate everything you've done to help me settle in."

"It was our pleasure," Seonghwa responded with a gentle smile. "Get some rest. Tomorrow will be a busy day."

"Do you want someone to walk you back to the guesthouse?" San offered immediately, already half-rising from his seat.

You smiled but shook your head. "That's very kind, but it's just across the garden. I'll be fine."

"The path lights are on a timer," Hongjoong informed you. "They should stay lit until you're inside. If you need anything at all during the night, don't hesitate to call or text any of us."

The protectiveness in his tone sent a small flutter through your chest. "Thank you. Goodnight, everyone."

A chorus of "goodnight" and "sleep well" followed you as you made your way to the door. You could feel multiple pairs of eyes on your back as you departed, but it didn't feel uncomfortable—just attentive in a way you weren't quite used to yet.

The night air was cool against your skin as you walked the short path back to the guesthouse. True to Hongjoong's word, the garden lights illuminated your way, casting a gentle glow that transformed the landscape into something almost magical. In the distance, the Seoul skyline twinkled, a reminder of the city beyond this peaceful oasis.

Once inside your new home, you went through your nighttime routine on autopilot, too tired to unpack anything beyond the essentials. As you carefully removed your scent blocker patch and cleaned the area behind your ear, you couldn't help but reflect on the day's events.

Eight alphas had welcomed you into their space with a warmth and ease that defied your expectations. Despite your precautions, despite your carefully maintained professional boundaries, something about being with them had felt inexplicably right. There was a connection there that you couldn't explain—something that went beyond the typical dynamics of a workplace relationship.

"Don't read too much into it," you murmured to yourself as you applied a fresh blocker patch. "They're just being nice to their new assistant."

But as you finally slipped into bed, your last conscious thought was that there seemed to be something more at play—something neither you nor they fully understood yet.

---

Back in the main house, the eight members of ATEEZ remained in the living room long after you had departed. An unusual silence had fallen over the group, each lost in their own thoughts about the newest addition to their household.

Hongjoong was the first to speak, his voice thoughtful. "So... what does everyone think of Y/n?"

The question hung in the air for a moment before Wooyoung broke into a wide grin. "I told you all she was special! Did you see how quickly she fit in? It's like she's always been here."

San nodded in agreement. "There's something about her... I can't explain it. When she's in the room, I just feel more... I don't know, centered?"

"I noticed that too," Yunho admitted, looking slightly confused by his own reaction. "I only met her today, but I already feel this weird need to make sure she's comfortable and happy. Is that strange?"

Jongho, typically the most reserved of the group when it came to expressing feelings, shifted in his seat. "It's not just you. I felt it too. There's something... familiar about her presence."

Yeosang, who had been quietly observing as usual, leaned forward. "It's unusual for all of us to have such a similar reaction to someone, especially when we can't detect her scent through the blockers." His brow furrowed slightly. "Has anyone else noticed that we're responding to her almost as if..."

"As if she's pack," Seonghwa finished for him, voicing what several of them had been thinking but hesitant to say aloud. "Even though she's just our assistant."

Hongjoong ran a hand through his hair, processing the implications of what they were all describing. "I felt it during her interview. That's why I was so certain she was the right choice, even beyond her qualifications. Something about her just... resonates."

"I'm in love," Mingi declared dramatically, flopping backward onto the couch and throwing an arm over his face. "I'm completely, utterly in love."

Wooyoung pointed at him triumphantly. "See! That's exactly what I said two weeks ago! And you all thought I was exaggerating!"

Seonghwa rolled his eyes, though there was no real annoyance in the gesture. "You're both being ridiculous. You barely know her."

"And yet," Mingi countered, sitting up to look at Seonghwa directly, "you can't deny you feel it too. I saw how attentive you were at dinner, hyung. You barely took your eyes off her."

A faint flush colored Seonghwa's cheeks. "I was being a good host," he defended, though his tone lacked conviction. After a moment, he sighed. "Fine. Yes, there's... something. I don't know what it is, but I felt it the moment she walked in."

"Do you think she's an omega?" Jongho suggested thoughtfully. "Maybe her blockers aren't completely effective, and we're picking up subtle cues?"

San shook his head. "Those high-grade blockers are pretty effective. Besides, we've been around plenty of omegas before and never had this kind of collective response."

"What about a beta?" Yunho offered.

"Same issue," Hongjoong said, his brow furrowed in concentration. "We've never reacted this way to anyone, regardless of their status."

Yeosang, who had been quietly contemplative, finally spoke up. "There's another theory...fated mate to the pack."

The room fell silent, all eyes turning to him.

"Fated mates..to the pack? That’s just stories," Wooyoung objected, though he seemed more intrigued than dismissive. "Fairy tales parents tell pups."

"Most legends have some basis in reality," Yeosang countered.

"But fated mates are rare," Jongho pointed out. "And usually, it's between two people, not... eight and one."

Seonghwa's expression became thoughtful. "There are some historical accounts of pack fated mates—one individual destined to bond with an entire pack rather than a single alpha or omega."

Hongjoong's eyes widened slightly before he shook his head dismissively. "Let's not get carried away here. Pack fated mate? We just met her. This is just the excitement of meeting someone new who happens to be competent, professional, and..." he hesitated, "...beautiful."

"Ooooooh," Wooyoung immediately pounced, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "You think our new assistant is beautiful? How scandalous, Captain!"

Hongjoong glared at him, though a hint of color rose in his cheeks. "Go to bed, Wooyoung."

"But it's only—"

"Now," Hongjoong insisted, pointing dramatically toward the hallway, though there was no real heat behind the command.

Wooyoung's grin only widened. "You didn't deny it."

Hongjoong rolled his eyes. "She is objectively attractive. That's not the point. The point is that we're all getting ahead of ourselves with these fated mate theories when the simplest explanation is that we've found an assistant who fits well with our team dynamics."

"Then why did we all feel it so strongly?" San asked, genuinely curious. "I've never had that kind of immediate connection with anyone before."

"Nor have I," Yeosang added quietly.

Hongjoong sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I felt it too. I'm not denying that there's... something. I just think we need to be rational about this. Fated mate to a pack is the stuff of legends, and we're talking about real life here."

Yunho frowned slightly. "Should we ask her if she is feeling the same thing?"

"Absolutely not," Hongjoong said firmly, shifting into his leader role. "First of all, we don't know what this is exactly. And second, she just started working with us today. The last thing she needs is eight alphas overwhelming her with intense feelings based on a connection we can't even properly explain ourselves."

Seonghwa nodded in agreement. "Hongjoong's right. Whatever this is, we need to proceed carefully. Y/n is here as our assistant. We need to respect that professional relationship first and foremost."

"So what do we do?" Wooyoung asked, looking uncharacteristically serious. "Just pretend we don't feel anything unusual?"

"No," Hongjoong replied after a moment of consideration. "We acknowledge that there's something special about her presence in our pack—"

"Team," Seonghwa corrected gently. "She's part of our team, not officially pack. Not yet, anyway."

Hongjoong nodded, accepting the correction. "In our team. But we don't pressure her or make her uncomfortable. We give her space to settle into her role, and we observe. There's no need to rush anything."

"What if she doesn't feel it?" Jongho asked quietly, voicing the concern that had begun to form in several of their minds. "What if it's just us?"

Seonghwa's expression softened. "Then we accept that and continue to value her as our assistant and hopefully, our friend. Connection or not, Y/n deserves to be treated with respect and given the freedom to choose her own path."

The others nodded in agreement, though there was a noticeable tension in the air—a mixture of excitement at the possibility and anxiety about the uncertainty.

"For now," Hongjoong concluded, "we focus on making her comfortable in her new role. We support her, we welcome her, but we don't overwhelm her. Agreed?"

Murmurs of agreement came from around the room, though Wooyoung couldn't resist adding, "But I still get to be friendly, right? That's just who I am."

Seonghwa rolled his eyes fondly. "Yes, Wooyoung, you can be friendly. Just don't be... too Wooyoung."

"I don't know what that means, but I'm choosing to be offended," Wooyoung replied with a dramatic pout that quickly dissolved into a grin.

The tension broken, conversation gradually shifted to other topics, though thoughts of you remained at the forefront of each member's mind. Whatever this connection was—whether fated mate bond or simply an unusual team dynamic—it was clear that your arrival had shifted something fundamental in the ATEEZ household.

---

In the guesthouse, you stirred in your sleep, turning onto your side as a strange dream played through your mind:

With purple eyes, you purred as you made a nest in your room made up of hoodies, blankets and pillows. Eight distinct scents surrounded you—sandalwood and ocean breeze, vanilla and cedarwood, citrus and clean linen, light musk and cherry blossoms, cinnamon and dark chocolate, earthy soil and pine, bergamot and ginger, fresh apples and mint—creating a harmonious blend that felt like... home. 

Your eyes shot open as you woke up, your hand immediately going to touch the blocker patch behind your ear to confirm it was still in its place.

You haven’t made a nest or fully purred in years. And you definitely have never had omega eyes as you did it. 

Shaking the dream from your mind, you lay back down to sleep, tomorrow would bring your first official day as ATEEZ's assistant, with all the professional challenges that entailed.

Next>>

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Taglist is currently closed! I’m so sorry! 💜

[mosaickiwi]

Hey hey !!! Just wanted to say I really appreciate your writing, reading a fic of yours always brings me comfort :D

I was wondering if you’d be okay doing a body swap! AU between Angel and Ren/Redacted. You’re welcome to take whatever approach you deem fit, I’m curious as to what you come up with

thank you !!!

Thank you very much <33 Taking this as a warm up so I can remember wtf i'm doing!! So it's a HC list with a little blurb :3c most of my writing the past four months has been for my own projects/personal use lmao

Also happy day 5 yayyy yippee 🎉

💜🖤💜🖤💜🖤

Body Swap!!

[REDACTED] in your body?? Thriving

Fascinated and loving it. Since they've been studying you for years he knows all the little physical quirks you have, but now he gets to experience them himself and it's weirdly exciting.

Additionally, NO ONE would realize anything was wrong. Acting like you would be even easier than getting into character for Haruko. Except he might not be able to help himself and do a little friendship sabotaging.

He's being extremely weird in private if you give him permission lmao

A little unsure of physical affection at first because of the self loathing. Of course he still wants it, but being on the other side of things has his thoughts all "that's how my scars feel to you? my hands are really this cold?" Notes for himself to keep plenty of hand warmers in his pockets.

Puts the collar of their shirt over his mouth like he's cold… but it's really just a quick excuse to sniff your clothes outright in public I'm so sorry.

You in his body?? Suffering

You bump your head on door frames, constantly hit your hip on counters, trip in your platform shoes if you're not used to them.

You're tired all the time??? You knew they hardly slept but it was THIS bad? The constant coffee and energy drinks are the only reason you don't fall asleep in the middle of conversations.

Piercings feel weird too if your angel doesn't have them. Constantly touching your tongue to the roof of your mouth, fiddling with your ears, etc. 

Unaware of your new strength. Picking up furniture is surprisingly easy. You probably broke a door lock when turning the key with a little too much force. 

Your friends are dismissive and standoffish with you. Can you blame them? At best he ignores them, and at worst you have to be physically between them (but closer to [REDACTED]) to keep both parties happy.

💜🖤💜🖤💜🖤

"Watch your head," you heard from in front of you. 

You carefully ducked into the doorway to your apartment. It was hard to get used to your new height — and almost as hard to get used to hearing someone else use your voice.

The same couldn't be said of your partner. Not even thirty minutes had passed since the unfortunate incident, but [REDACTED] already seemed at home in your body. As if it was natural to him. 

While you panicked about suddenly swapping bodies in the middle of a hangout with your friends, he calmly made a plan. All you could do was follow along.

You'd observed them, dumbfounded as they perfectly mimicked your personality and mannerisms. He'd excused you both from the carnival early, and gotten you home without a hint of suspicion from anyone. It was unexpected and illogical, but his obsession with you clearly paid off.

No one seemed to notice — or care, since they weren't friends with him — that the pissed off emo their friend dragged around looked crazier than usual as you both left.

The door shut as you stumbled into the living room like a newborn fawn, your now shorter partner hovering at your side. How did he manage to wear three-inch platform boots while this tall? You tripped your way over to the couch with a sigh.

"I'm calling in sick tomorrow," you groaned into the armrest. The couch felt even more uncomfortable in his body. Inviting him over just to let him sleep on the couch one too many times probably warranted an apology. 

"We should be back t'normal in a few hours."

"Is that what WebDR said?" There was no response, but you threw out another question. "I guess we could kill time and watch a movie, what do you think?"

Again, he didn't answer. You heard the faintest sound of your phone vibrating and searched every inch of your outfit. When you found his phone instead, you sat up to look for him. 

The temporary owner of your body was standing just beside the couch, your phone still ringing in their hand, but his thumb hovering dangerously close to the screen. There was an annoyed frown on his face… your face? 

"Leon's calling," he finally said.

"Oh my god." You jumped up to snatch the phone away and hurriedly declined the call. 

Your partner's frown quickly turned to amusement at the situation. "Y'don't trust me t'play nice with him?"

"When you're using my voice? Fuck no." You texted an apology to Leon for leaving early, lied about your throat hurting so he wouldn't call back, then hid the device in one of your many pockets. "Oh wow." 

"What's wrong?"

"... Nothing, I guess."

Staring down at your own face this closely was… off. You reached forward and grabbed their chin, turning it every which way as if something about it would change. 

"You really get to look at me from all the worst angles when you're this tall, huh?" you hummed to yourself. 

"And y'look perfect at every single one, love."

God, he was awful. "Ignoring you."

[krirebr]

Still Life 2

Pairing: Alpha Curtis Everett x Omega Female Reader

Word Count: ~5.9k

Summary: Curtis has been volunteering as a foster alpha for three years now. He's never seen a case this bad...

Warnings: Heavy angst (with an eventual happy ending), past abuse (not Curtis), alpha/beta/omega dynamics, physical scarring, extreme sexism (both external and internal), adult themes, referenced past non-con (including but not limited to somnophilia, partner-sharing, and drugging), fear of non-con, the slowest burn I've done yet. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by me this time!

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: Here am I, the angst fairy, coming to really bum you out right before Valentine's Day! You're welcome? 😂 But seriously, friends, this is a rough one, so please read the warnings and take care of yourself!

A huge thanks to @bigtreefest who talked through so much of this with me, and @stargazingfangirl18 who helped me figure out the particulars of how alpha/omega dynamics work in this world (both for this part and going forward)!

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. And if you need to come scream at me, that's ok too!

As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

You should’ve expected this. It was exactly what they’d always said would happen. That the government abhorred personal freedom and one day they would come to try to take everything the alphas had built for themselves. They wanted to seize all the land and the guns and capture the omegas to sell them off to the highest bidder or put them in a breeding program. 

But before, whenever the topic came up, whichever alpha was ranting against big government, be it Franco, Wilford, or your father, would inevitably turn to what would happen when the government pigs came to take what was theirs. The mindless troops would be met with guns and fire and pure alpha might. And they’d learn what happened when you messed with true alphas.

But that wasn’t what happened, was it? No. That wasn’t what led to you standing in the middle of your new alpha’s house. You should count yourself lucky, you supposed, that you hadn’t ended up in a breeding program—horror stories about those programs used to keep you up at night as a teenager. Stories whispered among the omegas, a reminder of how lucky you all were to be safe in the compound.

You hadn’t felt safe for a long time, but you weren’t sure you’d ever been in this much danger. You were completely on your own, given away to one of the biggest alphas you’d ever seen. Much bigger than Franco or Wilford. You’d never be able to fight him. He’d be able to hurt you even worse than either of them.

That was all you could think about as he showed you around his house. You didn’t know why he was bothering. You were sure you’d only need to know where his bedroom and the kitchen were. 

But still, he showed you the living room, the bathrooms, a room he called his home office. It was outside of that room that he stopped and turned to you. “I work from home,” he said, his voice a steady rumble. “So I’ll be around if you ever need me. I just ask that you knock first before coming in if I’m working. Okay?”

“Yes, Alpha,” you said by rote, but your mind was racing. He would always be here. You’d never get a break. There’d be no way to hide anything from him. Even Franco had left the house every day to go about his business, whatever that was. Sure, you still had Martha trying to know all of your secrets, but as long as you did the chores and kept the pups out of her way, you could deal with her. And as much as you hated Franco’s First Omega, she was still better than him.

At the thought of your Alpha, you swore the mark on your neck throbbed. Where was he now? Locked up? Dead?? Did it even matter? He wasn’t actually your alpha anymore. He used to talk sometimes about how before civilization when it was everyone out for themselves in the wilderness and omegas were scarce, stronger alphas would kill weaker ones and steal their omegas, biting over the existing mark. He’d laugh when he described the ravaged state of an omega’s neck bearing mark after mark until she was finally captured by an alpha strong enough to keep her. He always looked at you when he said that last part, at your mark. 

But he hadn’t been strong enough to keep you, had he? Not in the end. None of them had been.

The alpha had moved on down the hall and you scrambled to keep up with him. He stopped in front of a doorway, blocking your view inside. “This is my room,” he said.

You took a deep breath. Okay. It was time then. You could do this. You could be a good omega. You waited for him to move into the room so you could follow, but instead, he gestured to the room behind you. “And that one’s yours.” 

It took you a moment to understand what he’d said. Then you slowly turned around, confused, to find a small bedroom. Without thinking, you took a few tentative steps inside. It was bright, the sun streaming in through the curtains. There was a bed in the center of the room, covered in a dove gray quilt with flowers stitched into it. There was a collection of dusty rose pillows covering the top third, in all sorts of shapes and sizes. A plush-looking chair in a similar color was tucked into the corner. There was a big window set into the far wall. Sheer curtains softly billowed over it. Two bins were stacked beneath it. Against the perpendicular wall, sat a short dresser made of dark wood, and next to it a small closet. Across from that, you could see a little ensuite bathroom. All of it was much nicer than the little room with the thin cots that you used to share with Martha and Emmy when any one of you wasn’t in Franco’s bed. You couldn’t understand why he was giving it to you. Just you. As far as you could tell, there weren’t any other omegas here. It was much too nice for you on your own.

You turned back to him, hoping to find some clues there, but he had the same vaguely soft look on his face he’d had since you’d first walked into the room at the center you’d first been brought to. You didn’t like that look, didn’t know what to do with it. It’d drop soon anyway. You knew it would. The waiting was the worst part.

You dropped your gaze when he cleared his throat. “There’s nesting supplies in those two bins under the window. With or without alpha scent. So you can go ahead and make yourself comfortable.”

You blinked at the two bins he’d gestured to. You didn’t understand what he wanted you to do, but you nodded anyway with a quiet, “Yes, Alpha.”

He hovered in the doorway, not taking even one step into the room. “Are you still hungry?” he asked.

You shook your head. He’d stopped and gotten you a breakfast sandwich on the way to his house and had let you eat it in his truck. You’d eaten it quickly so he couldn’t change his mind, extremely careful not to get any crumbs on his upholstery. 

He sighed and you were gripped by panic that you may have disappointed him. You had no idea how you might have done that but this wouldn’t be the first time that an alpha’s expectations had been unknowable to you. But he didn’t say anything about it or make any move to punish you. You kept a wary eye on him anyway.

“Well,” he said, taking a step back into the hallway. “I have some calls to make and a little work to do. I know you’ve had a long night, so I’ll let you rest for a bit. But please come get me if you need anything.” 

“Yes, Alpha,” you whispered, knowing for a fact that you would do absolutely everything you could not to disturb him. An omega’s job was to make her alpha’s life easier, to bring him pleasure. Omegas didn’t need things. They should never be that selfish. You would show this alpha how good you could be. To protect yourself, you’d do whatever you could.

He looked at you, a furrow between his brows, then just nodded and walked down the hall. You waited for a moment to make sure he didn’t come back. When he didn’t, you carefully made your way around the room. You placed your knapsack on the chair in the corner and took out the only other dress you’d managed to grab on your way out of Franco’s house to hang up in the closet. It looked pathetic, hanging by itself. You took off your shoes and placed them underneath it. Finally, you took the little friendship bracelet out of it’s hiding place at the bottom of the bag. You reverently set it on the dresser, the little ballerina charm Grace had managed to sneak into the house for you hanging off the wood. 

You turned towards the two bins against the wall. The alpha clearly wanted you to do something with them but you had no idea what. You gingerly opened the first bin and were immediately hit by the strong scent of cedar and leather and alpha, the same scent that had engulfed you in his truck and subtly permeated this house. But this bin was like being slapped in the face with it. You couldn’t breathe. You closed it as fast as you could. You were even more cautious as you opened the second bin, but you weren’t struck by any strong scents as you removed the lid that time. You looked inside to find a collection of blankets and pillows. You carefully touched one to find the softest blanket you’d ever felt. Without thinking, you brought it out of the box and buried your face in it, as tears pricked at your eyes. You didn't want to cry anymore. It wouldn't change anything. 

You pulled the blanket after you as you climbed onto the bed. You’d been awake for most of the last twenty-four hours and you could finally feel the adrenaline leeching out of you. The intense fear was still there, but it could no longer overpower your extreme exhaustion. You wrapped the blanket around yourself and quickly fell asleep.

You weren’t sure what exactly had woken you up, but your heart was already racing. Nightmares you couldn’t remember but could still feel were wrapped around you. You sat up and tried to force yourself to breathe. You weren’t in the compound anymore. You never would be again. You wished that could be a comfort to you, but now you were surrounded by unknown threats and dangers. You shouldn’t be so upset. This was just what happened to omegas. You’d been suddenly uprooted from your home before, dropped somewhere you didn’t know anything or anyone. It’d probably happen again. Especially if you didn’t do everything you could to please this alpha.

You wrapped the blanket tighter around yourself. It was one of the softest things you’d ever felt. You almost felt safe in this little cocoon you’d made yourself. Then you saw movement in the open doorway.

The alpha stood there, knocking softly on the door, something tucked under one arm. “Hey, I thought you might be awake,” he said, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard an alpha speak before. “Can I come in?”

“Yes, Alpha,” you said immediately, even as you felt that fear rising in your chest again. You didn’t know why he was asking.

He stopped and looked at you carefully, which made you shrink down as much as you could. He sighed with a small grimace. “On second thought, how ‘bout you come join me in the living room? Whenever you’re ready.” 

He took off down the hall, and, after you’d carefully put the blanket away, you followed him. He stood in the middle of the cozy room. “Sit wherever you’d like,” he said. 

You looked at the two plush couches and the recliner with panic. Was this a test? Was there a right answer? Where would he sit? You never would have sat before Franco. That would have gotten you in so much trouble. Was this alpha trying to trick you?

After a few moments, he softly called your name. “You can sit on that couch, if you want,” he said, gesturing to the larger of the two sofas. You let out a sigh of relief as you sat where he pointed. He sat on the other side of the same couch, giving you plenty of space, then took out what he’d been holding under his arm, revealing it to be a laptop, like Franco Jr used to have. He opened it and held it out to you. “You need more clothes. We have a stipend from the Center to get you the things you need so don't worry about the cost. Do you know how online shopping works?” You just sort of shrugged unsure of what the right answer was. You knew how to use a computer, but Franco had made sure none of his omegas ever had any access to his money, as was his right as the Alpha. “That’s fine,” he said, then showed you the buttons you needed to press to make an order. Then, inconceivably, he passed the computer over to you. “Pick out whatever you like, then if it’s all available at a local store, we’ll hopefully be able to get it delivered by tonight.” Then he sat back, giving you space.

You looked at the webpage in front of you, filled with dozens of pictures of models in different pieces of clothing. The title at the top of the page said Omega Loungewear, but as you scrolled down through the pictures, you couldn’t understand why. None of this was appropriate for omegas. There were leggings and shorts, t-shirts and tank tops, big baggy sweaters, something called bralettes that you couldn’t believe they were just showing pictures of right out in the open. There were some cotton dresses that might be ok, depending on what the alpha wanted, but he hadn’t told you. He wanted you to know. He wanted you to be good. To prove it. And everything was available in different colors and patterns and you didn’t know how many you were supposed to pick out or what he wanted or– 

You hadn’t realized your breathing had picked up until he was kneeling in front of you. “Hey,” he said very gently, his hands held out in front of him but not touching you, “hey, it’s okay. You’re alright. Can you please tell me what’s going on?”

You gulped. You were being a stupid omega. This was why omegas shouldn’t make decisions. You lifted the laptop up and passed it back to him. “I don’t know, Alpha,” you said very quietly, nodding to the computer. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, no need for apologies, it’s totally fine.” He stopped to think, then with a grimace and a sigh, “Would you like me to pick out some things for you and order them?”

You slumped in relief. He’d know what was okay for you to get. You wouldn’t have to guess. “Yes, Alpha. Thank you, Alpha.”

“That’s another–” he shook his head sadly. “You don’t– You don’t need to address me as alpha. You can call me Curtis, or, or anything. You can call me whatever you want. Whatever makes you comfortable.”

That was definitely a trick. Calling him anything other than Alpha was 100% not allowed. You had the marks on your body to prove it. Omegas might have been stupid, but you were smart for your kind and you wouldn’t fall for this just to be punished. After everything that had happened, you had more self-preservation than that.

“Yes, Alpha,” you said, your eyes on the ground. 

He let out another heavy sigh. “Right,” he said, as he stood up. “I had lunch while you were sleeping, but I set some aside for you. Let me go get it, And then we can” he looked around, flaring his arms to the side, “I don’t know. Watch TV, I guess?”

“Yes, Alpha,” you said, quietly, still not looking at him.

He sighed again. This alpha sighed a lot. He was disappointed in you. He just stood there for a long moment. You could feel him looking at you. You sank back into the couch, trying to make yourself as small as possible. There was another sigh, then, “I’ll be right back.” He turned on the TV as he left the room, leaving the remote within your reach, but you didn’t dare touch it. Another trap.

Franco had had a big TV. He watched a lot of sports and news shows hosted by strong alpha men that talked about how the government was trying to strip alphas of their rightful power. Sometimes there were pretty blonde beta and omega women there to say the same thing. There were other news channels too, but they were all secretly owned by the government and only told lies. 

When Franco was gone, Martha used to sneak into the living room to watch her stories while you and Emmy did chores or took the younger pups outside. You never joined her; she and Emmy would just yell at you for being lazy if you tried. 

So, now, you did your best to ignore whatever was playing until a voice caught your attention. “On tonight’s Eyewitness News at 5, government agencies raid an alpha supremacist group calling themselves The Snowpiercer Collective–” You felt your heartrate pick up. On the screen were images of the compound—the storage barns, the meeting hall, Wilford’s house. Then video of the people in their tactical gear with initials you didn’t understand on their backs holding guns and–

You weren’t sure what had woken you up first, the dogs barking or the sound of guns being fired. Emmy was standing over you, her eyes wide with panic, while Martha screamed behind her for both of you to get your lazy asses moving and get the pups. You didn’t know what was going on. None of you had been in Franco’s bed that night, which meant your little room was full and you’d had to sleep on the floor while the other two claimed the cots. You were stiff and slow and confused as you tried to get moving, still half-asleep. As you cut through the living room to get to the pups’ rooms—you could hear the youngest ones sobbing—you saw that it was still pitch black out, but then the sky would briefly light up with a loud crack of whatever was being fired much too close to your home for comfort. What was happening? Who was there? Where was Franco? He’d left the night before to go play poker with some of the other alphas, so more likely than not, he’d passed out somewhere in the compound before he’d been able to drunkenly stumble home. It’d been a relief that night, but now it meant that you were all completely defenseless from whoever was attacking you.

The three of you gathered the children and tried to herd them out the back door, toward the entrance to the bunker that was about twenty feet behind the house. But as soon as you opened the door, you were met with a full SWAT team and everyone was screaming and their guns were pointed at you and–

“Shit!”

The alpha’s voice brought you back to the present. You were on the floor. You were in your new alpha’s house and you were on the floor. The TV was off and he was crouched in front of you, the remote still in his hand. Your face was wet, tears streaming down your cheeks. You weren’t in the compound anymore, but that didn’t make you feel any safer. He was trying to talk to you, saying something, his tone gentle, but you couldn’t process his words. You were scared and you were tired. And you knew it was bad, you knew it wasn’t what you should do, but you were out of energy and you couldn’t stop yourself from curling up into a ball on the floor and finally sobbing like you’d wanted to since you’d been put into the back of that SWAT van.

You weren’t sure if you woke up, so much as just came to. There was a blanket draped over you—it’d been on the couch, maybe—and a pillow pushed under your head. The alpha must have done it, but you couldn’t imagine him taking such care with you. You could hear the murmurs of a one-sided conversation coming from the other room. 

You slowly sat up. Your eyes hurt and your mouth was dry. You were making a very bad impression on your new alpha. What must he think of you? You would have to work very hard over the next few days to show him that you did actually know how to be a good omega. You would do better.

The alpha took that moment to appear at the entrance to the living room. He held a phone to his ear. “I gotta go, Tanya. I’ll talk to you soon.” He put his phone in the back pocket of his jeans as he took a few steps into the room, then stopped. He stared at you and you dropped your gaze to the floor. You did your very best to keep your breaths even. It was always the worst with Franco when you couldn’t predict him, and you had no idea what this alpha would do.

He cleared his throat. “How are you feeling?” he asked quietly. Before you were able to figure out the best answer to that question, he shook his head. “No, that’s– that’s a stupid question, I know.” He crouched down so he was closer to your level while still several feet away. “Look, I can’t even imagine what you’ve been through, but I want to help you, ok? However I can, I’m here to help you.”

Your mind was racing. Why would he say that? To trick you, a little voice inside you said. That had to be it. Wilford had done that too. Pretended to be friendly and kind and helpful. Until he stopped pretending and you learned who he really was. You shivered at the memory of him. You’d learned your lesson. You wouldn’t be surprised again.

He stayed like that for a few moments, while you kept your head down and didn’t move. Finally he stood up. “I ordered some food. It should be here soon. And your clothes came. So if you want, you could put them away while we wait, and then join me in the kitchen for dinner?”

“Yes, Alpha,” you said quietly as you made yourself stand up. He followed suit and walked into the kitchen where he picked up two canvas bags with the same logo on them and handed them to you. You peered inside. You couldn’t see the shape of the clothes yet, but you could tell there were many items, all in soft pastel colors. 

“I had to make some guesses on sizing,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “And, uh, well. It looks like the clothes you currently have maybe don’t fit you quite right? So. So these might feel different.”

You ducked your head. The dress you were wearing had been Martha’s. Your shoes had been Emmy’s. They pinched your toes. Being third omega meant having to make do with what you were given. Even as a kid, everything you’d had had belonged to your older sisters first. You didn’t think you’d ever been the first person to wear something.

You clutched the bags to your chest and whispered, “Thank you, Alpha,” before hurrying down the hall to the bedroom you’d been given. You checked each item as you put it away. Leggings, t-shirts, sweaters, shorts, all made from some of the softest material you’d ever felt. He wouldn’t have gone so far as to spend actual money if it was just a trick or a test, would he? You’d done what you were supposed to, you’d let him choose, so even though these weren’t the clothes you were used to, it’d be okay to wear them, wouldn’t it? You worried your bottom lip. He’d picked them out. This was what he wanted.

At the sound of the doorbell, you hurried back out and arrived in the kitchen as he approached the small table with a short stack of flat, square boxes. “I hope pizza’s okay,” he said. “I got a couple different kinds, so hopefully there’s something you like.”

You didn’t respond. You were good at taking what was given to you. You stood next to the table and waited as he arranged the boxes and put a plate in front of each of you. You didn’t sit down until he did. He opened one of the boxes and gestured to its contents. “Help yourself,” he said. You kept your hands in your lap until he placed a slice on his own plate. Then you grabbed one from the same box. Once he took a bite, you started eating. It was so good. Much better than the frozen pizzas you would occasionally have at the compound. And as soon as you started eating, you realized you were starving. You hadn’t really had lunch, distracted by your ridiculous freakout. You inhaled your first slice, then stared at the box, wondering if it was worth the risk to try to take more. The alpha must have seen you looking because he took two more pieces from the box and placed them on your plate. “Have as much as you want,” he said. “There’s plenty to go around.” 

After a few more minutes of eating in silence, the alpha stood up abruptly, the back legs of his chair scraping loudly against the floor. You jumped in your seat and tried to make yourself small as he briefly loomed over you. 

He moved to the counter and came right back with the little cardboard box the Omega at the center had tried to give you. You shrank back as he held it out to you. “I almost forgot,” he said, “here are the suppressants if you want to start taking them tonight.”

You froze. You tried to force your hand to take the pills from him, but your limbs refused to move. You remembered the first time you'd been sent to Wilford, the High Alpha, the little white pill he'd given you. “To help,” he'd said. But it'd just made you feel tired, loose, disconnected from your body. Defenseless when he'd– Or other times, different pills, different colors and shapes, that'd made you feel like you were going into heat even though it wasn't time yet. That'd made you need things you didn't actually want. And the way Wilford had smiled at you and– 

Your new alpha was looking at you curiously, the pack of pills still in his hand, a mask of concern on his face. You needed to take it. An alpha was giving you something. You should take it. You should take it. You should take it. “What do they do?” you blurted out without meaning to. Oh god. You were in so much trouble. 

All he did at first was blink at you. “What do suppressants do?” he repeated back to you, looking slightly surprised. He withdrew his hand and sat down. “They stop your heats, is the biggest thing, for however long you take them.”

Why– Your heats belonged to your alpha. The whole point of them, of you, was to give your alpha pleasure. And pups. Why would he offer this to you? “You want me to take them?” you whispered.

“I–” He hummed and scratched his beard. “I want you to do whatever makes you feel most comfortable.” 

You looked at him as he made his face go completely blank. It was clearly another test and you weren't sure what the right answer was. Not just taking whatever pills he gave you was obviously bad. But if you had, you would have unknowingly denied him access to your heats, which was unforgivable. It was like you were being set up to fail. Maybe he was just looking for an excuse to punish you. Franco would sometimes do that too. You felt the flare of anger igniting in the pit of your stomach, but you took a deep breath to snuff it out. That would only get you in more trouble. You decided to commit to hopefully what was the lesser disobedience. “No, thank you, Alpha.”

He didn’t react for a moment and you were terrified you’d made the wrong choice. But his scent stayed mostly neutral and when he finally spoke, he just said, “Ok. That’s fine. But if you change your mind later, these will be here. And we can always talk about it again.”

You shook your head. You wouldn’t do that. You were good.

The alpha went to bed right after dinner, saying he was tired from having to wake up early to get you. You’d tried to apologize, but he looked at you funny, so you stopped.

Once he’d left you, you familiarized yourself with his kitchen, then did a thorough wipe down of the kitchen table, and swept underneath it.

When that was done, you retreated to the room he’d given you. There’d been some toiletries mixed in with the clothes he got for you, so you went into the little en suite and took a shower. It felt incredible, not having anyone banging on the door to get in next, or having to worry about using all of the hot water. For everything that was bad and scary about this situation, the chance at being a First Omega wasn’t one of them. Sure, you’d be the sole focus of your alpha’s attention, at least until he got another one, but it came with its perks too.

After your shower, you put on some of the new clothes. They were soft and cozy, cozier than anything you’d ever worn before. Then you climbed into the bed. You’d been so exhausted that morning that you hadn’t noticed much about it, but now, you felt like you were lying on a cloud. And it was so big, just as big as Franco’s bed. You’d be able to really stretch out in it when you were alone.

But would you be alone tonight? You got off the bed to peek out of the room to see that the alpha’s door was closed. You thought about closing your door, there was a lock on it, but if he really wanted to come in, all it would do was slow him down. And get you in trouble in the process. You closed it about three-fourths of the way. That wouldn’t technically be breaking any rules.

Not that you really knew what the rules were. Well, you knew the rules all omegas knew, but every alpha had their own as well. Your father did. Franco did. Wilford certainly had on the nights you had to be with him. But this alpha hadn’t bothered to tell you his yet. Another way to trick you into disobeying him.

You curled up on the bed, wrapping the soft blanket from the bin around yourself. You’d slept a lot of the day. Hopefully, that meant you wouldn’t need to sleep through the night. You wanted to be ready, when the alpha inevitably came for you. You wouldn’t fight him. The bite mark on your neck was proof enough that that wouldn’t do any good. But you just… you hated waking up in the middle of it. You’d rather know what was happening.

You turned over onto your side, trying to get comfortable, as you felt tears welling in your eyes. Again. If Martha were here, she’d yell at you for being a stupid child. You wondered where she’d ended up. Neither she nor Emmy had been shoved into the same van as you. Were they together? What had happened to their pups? You’d probably never see any of them ever again. You didn’t know what it said about you that you didn’t feel much of anything at that thought. Nothing good, probably.

You’d never see Franco again either. A good omega would feel grief at that. A good omega would miss him. Try as hard as you might, maybe you’d never been a very good omega. Maybe that’s how you’d ended up where you were.

You turned over again. You couldn’t get comfortable. This bed was too soft. You got up with a grumble, grabbing the blanket and one of the pillows and dragging them to the corner of the room. You were good at making yourself comfortable on the floor. That would be better. If he got upset that you weren’t waiting for him in bed, then at least you’d learn what his punishments were like.

You huddled into the wall and pulled the blanket tight around yourself, settling in to wait.

You woke with a start. You looked around, trying to get your bearings. You were in that little bedroom. The sun was streaming in through the curtains. Oh god, you’d fallen asleep! You hadn’t meant to do that. As you started to panic, you realized you were still curled up in the corner. Your clothes were still on. The door was exactly how you’d left it. He hadn’t come to take you in the night. You were filled with a strange mix of intense relief and something that felt a lot like dejection. Why hadn’t he come? It didn’t make any sense.

 You heard the clinking of dishware coming from another part of the house just as the scent of breakfast wafted in. Your head shot up, confused. Who was making it? Was there an omega here after all?

You got up and quickly got dressed in another pair of leggings and one of the big, slouchy sweaters. You followed the noise to the kitchen and came to a sudden halt in the doorway. The alpha was making pancakes. You had never seen an alpha cook, not even once, in your entire life. Alphas didn’t cook. That was omegas’ work. Was this his way of rubbing your face in the fact that you were already falling down on the job? Your first morning here and you’d already neglected your duties to the point that he had to cook for himself?

He turned around when he realized you were there and you braced yourself for whatever was coming. But instead of yelling at you, a wide smile overtook his face. “Hey, good morning! I hope you slept okay.” You couldn’t do much other than blink at him, but his smile didn’t falter. “Go ahead and sit,” he said, gesturing to the table. “This’ll be done in just a couple minutes.”

“I can finish it, Alpha” you tried, your voice timid.

He immediately shook his head. “No, no. You’re a guest. Sit down. It’s almost done.”

You did as he said and sat, not taking your eyes off him. This was the strangest alpha you’d ever met. You didn’t understand anything about him. How could you predict him when you didn’t understand him?

True to his word, it was just a few minutes later that he was setting a plate in front of you, along with some syrup. You gingerly poured it over your pancakes, as he sat across from you and did the same. As you carefully cut a small bite for yourself, you felt him watching you, even though he acted like he wasn’t. You took a bite and your eyes fluttered closed. These were the best pancakes you’d ever tasted. Much better than Emmy’s. Much better than yours. 

A small “mmm” escaped your lips. You opened your eyes, embarrassed, to find him still grinning at you. “That’s the first thing you should know about me,” he said, “I make really good pancakes.”

Tag List is open!

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[landograndprix]

ᴀɴʏᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀᴡᴀʏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ ♛ ʟɴ⁴ - one

➣ family friend!reader x ln⁴

➣ and just like that you're growing closer each day and falling in love has never felt this good.

➣ being told you feel like home might just be the best compliment you've received in a while.

➣ tired of all the negativity in this fandom so gonna treat myself with nothing but teeth rotting fluff ♡ big ass family so lots of OC's and just a heads up but really not a surprise coming from me but reader is like 4-5 years older so if that's not your thing, don't read. Fun fact, I don't proof read my stuff so enjoy the spelling mistakes <3

➣ reblogs and comments are welcome, alright love u 😘

➣ next chapter

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y/nusername

liked by landonorris and others

y/nusername kidless.

view all comments

iamzarah "what the hell am I then?" - Milo and Stella reading that caption

↳ jamiejamezz can't call Milo a kid, that rat is the devil himself

y/nusername stop calling him a rat and he might start to like you back

iamivy bro you are the devil himself

norrizz love me a lazy sunday ❤️

julieeeexo is it a lazy sunday though, are you sure you're not deep cleaning the entire house? 🤣

↳ y/nusername 😅

freyafrey that's that mum life 😔

quinking posting on insta but ignoring my texts, I see how it is..i am your least favourite sibling

↳ landonorris stop bullying her then

quinking mate you're the biggest bully here!

landonorris i'd never bully y/n

hannahh hope you enjoy your free time before the storm hits again 😂

ethanlowe must be nice..

↳ y/nusername it's your turn next week

ethanlowe 🙌

maxfewtrell what one one-night stand gets you 9 months later am I right?

iamzarah fewtrell, violation much? 😭

𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸

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y/nusername

liked by landonorris, quinking and others

y/nusername two besties hitting the big 05 ❤️

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quinking yooo happy birthday to my best friends ❤

adam_norris_pure_electric happy birthday to the twins

freyafrey eating them up 😍

↳ iamivy pretty sure i had dibs on them but okay..

freyafrey there's two, we each get one ☺

y/nusername cannibalism is not it guys..

norry4 happiest of birthdays to these cuties! <3

iamzarah happy birthday to the funkiest guy and cutest girl! 🥰🥰

iamivy happy birthday to my favorites in this family, lotsa love and kisses 💜

hannahh for they grow up too fast!!

jamiejamezz happy bday you crazies 💥❤🎉

riabish happy birthday to the cutest set of twins! 🎊

landonorris happy birthday muppets ❤️

↳ norrizz nawwwh his two besties turning 5 !!

y/nusername been told to thank you and call you gremlin, so there's that

landonorris tell them I'll return the gifts

norry4 😭

y/nusername you're not welcome anymore :(

landonorris oh 😔

𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸

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y/nusername posted to their story

landonorris replied to your story

landonorris

that's me 😁

did noah watch the race?

y/nusername

yeah, he wanted to watch with his dad though, he send me a video of a very happy Noah 😂

I'll send it to you

landonorris

Can't wait to see it!

landonorris

What world are we living in?

Quin taking you out for dinner?

what does he need now? 😂

y/nusername

I know, I was as suprised as you are!

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y/nusername

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y/nusername bunch of animals 🐘

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quinking oh so everyone got an invite but me?

↳ freyafrey do you see me in these pictures? No invite for me either boy

quinking yeah but you're too old for fun

freyafrey I'm literally a year older than your sister, don't make me come for you little boy

landonorris life would be so much easier if you stop bullying everyone mate

quinking real rich coming from you mate 🤣

land0n0rriss so who's this then? 👀

imivy meet dads side of the family today ❤️🦥

norrizz hope you had fun with all your kids!!

norrisbob new wag alert????

jamiejamezz Bob still mad the whole gang joined? 🤪

↳ maxfewtrell watch it mate you might hit a nerve there

iamzarah bit weird to take your maid on a date no?

landonorris you're all so funny!

iamivy uncalled for, we all take our maid on dates

y/nusername if y'all stop living like actual pigs, you wouldn't need this maid

landonorris bit dramatic but we still love you ❤️

𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸

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comments and reblogs are welcome ♡ taglist is open.

[saiyanprincessswanie]

Rightfully His…

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: 3028

Summary: You thought your husband was a kindhearted, gentleman who was deeply in love with you. When you catch your husband murdering someone in cold blood you freak out and run away from him. Bucky is in search of you and is determined to find you. Will he kill you or will he claim what is rightfully his?

Warnings: Smut, teasing, rough sex, choking, possessive, mention of killing the reader a few times, pet name (sweetheart), brief violence mentioned & minor character killed.

A/N 1: Thank you to my beta readers @lfnr-blog-blog-blog & @pigwidgeonxo 💜 (any mistakes in spelling & grammar are my own. I wrote this on my phone)

A/N 2: divider by @whimsicalrogers & header by me.

Reblogs & Comments on Tumblr are welcomed and encouraged. 😊💜

I do NOT give my consent to have my work translated or reposted on any social media platform, apps, or third-party sites. If you see my work anywhere besides my personal Tumblr & AO3 accounts, it has been stolen. I will NEVER give written or verbal permission to repost or translate any of my fanfics as they’re MY intellectual property. 🚫🚫

It’s been two and a half weeks since you ran away from him. The life you thought you wanted with Bucky was a huge shame. You thought James “Bucky” Barnes was this kind-hearted businessman who swept you off your feet. He was a gentleman, ambitious, caring, protective, and the love of your life. Whatever you wanted, Bucky made sure you had it. It wasn’t about the money and lifestyle though it was how he treated you. He would worship the ground you walked on if you let him. This man was deeply in love with you and you with him.

Now, it turns out he’s a mobster who kills people for a living. Five years of marriage down the drain because you weren’t supposed to be home yet. You had walked in on Bucky interrogating a man strapped to a chair and begging for his life. That life was cut short in front of you as you let out a scream. Bucky looked up at you with both anger and regret in his eyes. He tried to talk to you but you were scared of him and slept in one of the spare bedrooms. Fearful he might kill you next for what you saw. Not wanting to risk it the next day you left. 

You had taken money from your bank account, passport, and clothes and fled your home. Going from bus to bus you traveled as far as you could from him and decided to stay in a small town in the middle of nowhere. Keeping your head down you rented out a motel room. You kept to yourself and hardly ever left the room. This was a temporary plan as you tried to figure out how to leave the country. Anywhere in the world was better than here. 

Where would you go? Could you move on from this marriage knowing who your husband was? What if he tried to find you? The stress got to you as you ran to the toilet to throw up your lunch. Flushing the toilet you go to the sink to brush your teeth. Your mouth is now minty fresh as you ponder the one question that keeps haunting you. Would he kill you if he ever found you? 

Your hands clenched around the sink as you took in your reflection in the mirror. The bags under your eyes show that you haven’t slept much since heading out on your own. Looking away from the mirror you head into the small room and sit on the bed. Your heart mourns for what could have been between you and Bucky. Now that future is no longer a dream for you.

There was a knock at your door that sent fear down your spine. Could it be him? You shake your head at the thought. There is no way he found you in this little town. Again the knock rang out in your room and you slowly made your way to the door. Looking through the peephole you see a woman holding towels. You open it slowly and are greeted by a friendly voice. 

“I have fresh towels for you hun. I know it’s been a few days since you switched them out.” She reached out to give them to you and politely you took them.

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” you mumbled. 

“If you need anything hun you just call down to the front desk and we will get it for you.” The lady turned around and started to push her cart to the next room.

You closed the door and set the towels down on the towel rack in the bathroom. A knock on your door rang out again and you wondered what she wanted now. Huffing you walked to the door and opened it up. There in front of you was your husband, Bucky. He placed a finger to your mouth to shush you. His deep blue eyes stared into your soul as he smiled at you.

“Hello, my beautiful wife. Happy to see me?” He chuckled as you stared at him in shock.

Bucky started to push his way into the room and shut the door. You wanted to scream for help but it died on your tongue. You walked backward until your legs hit the bed and you sat down, tears falling from your eyes. This couldn’t be real. How did he find you?

Bucky took in your features and sighed. He knew you were tired from running for the last two-plus weeks. He could tell you were scared of him and that didn’t help what he was feeling inside. Bucky wanted to yell at you and curse you for leaving him. But he knew you were too frail to take his anger. So he kneeled in front of you and grabbed your hand. 

“Do you know why I’m here sweetheart?” 

Slowly you nodded your head. “T-To kill me?” The tears continued to fall from your eyes as he just stared at you. There was nowhere to run anymore. This was the end of the line for you. 

There was a long silence between you both before he said anything. “As tempting as that is, no, I’m not here to kill you sweetheart. I’m here to take you home with me.”

You looked at him confused by what he said. “But I thought… I mean I saw you kill someone. Don’t mobsters like to tie up loose ends and get rid of witnesses?”

Bucky couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips. “Most of the time, yes. But what you witnessed that’s on me for bringing my work home. Do you know why that man was murdered?”

You shook your head no. Did you even want to know at this point? The less you knew the better it was for you.

Wiping the tears that continued to fall from your eyes, Bucky leaned in to kiss your forehead. “That man wanted to kill you. The thought of you being taken from me forever sent me in a rage. You’re my wife and I love you with every breath I take. I tortured that man until I got him to squeal like the pig he was. His reasoning to kill you was to hurt me and the empire that I’ve built. But I vowed to protect you on our wedding day and it still holds true today. I would rather die than see you hurt on my watch. So please understand why I did it. It was all for you.”

His words started to make you feel sick again. Someone wanted you to die? But who? You were merely a housewife. However, that didn’t seem true anymore. You were the housewife of a mobster who ran an empire in New York. He not only loved you deeply but he also killed for you. Killed in the name of love. 

“Bucky, I don’t know what to say. This is all too much for me to take in. So you just regularly kill people who threaten me? Was this the only guy or have there been more?”

He took a deep breath and exhaled. “This wasn’t the first and probably won’t be the last. It’s the head of a rival mob that wants you dead. That’s why you need to come with me so I can protect you. Can’t you see I need you by my side? I’m asking you to trust me and follow me out of here before someone gets to you.”

“How can I trust you Bucky? You lied about your work all these years and pretended to be someone else. It’s like I don’t even know you. How do I know this isn’t a lie to get me to leave with you so you can kill me?”

Your breaths start to pick up as you start to hyperventilate. You could feel the familiar panic attack start to hit. This was not how you saw this playing out. Bucky helped you with your breathing exercises to slowly calm you down. 

Bucky looked at you seriously. “You can trust me 'cause I’m your husband. I only lied about my job but that was to protect you. I see now I should have been honest with you from the beginning. But you do know me, sweetheart. I’m still the same man that you married. Please stop thinking I’m going to kill you. That breaks my heart every time you bring it up.”

Bucky stands up now and helps you to your feet. “We need to leave now, please.” He all but begs you. 

Catching your breath you look for your bag on the table and start to gather all the clothes and items you brought with you. Within minutes you are packed and Bucky goes to the front door and opens it. His best friend and right-hand man, Steve, looks back at him.

“The coast is clear, boss. Though I’m getting word someone is on their way here now.” 

Bucky looks back at you with his hand outstretched. “Come on, let's go home.”

Hearing what Steve said had you holding Bucky’s hand and walking quickly out of the room. Within seconds you are in a black SUV and being whisked away to the private airport just outside of town. Your hand clenched against his as you reached the airport. There was a private jet waiting on the tarmac as you both walked hand in hand and got on the plane. Within moments the plane was in the sky and you were both heading back to New York.

Exhausted from an emotional standpoint you found yourself in Bucky’s lap on the plane with your head under his chin sleeping peacefully. Steve sat in a seat opposite him and smiled at his friend. “I hope you’re right about this boss.”

When the plane landed Bucky woke you up gently by kissing your temple. Your eyes blinked a few times as you stretched your arms over your head. Bucky grabbed your hand again and you both exited the plane where another SUV was waiting to take you home. Driving back home the SUV pulled up to your house on the outskirts of the city. Exiting the SUV you and Bucky walked up the steps and entered the front door. It was exactly how you left it.

“I’m going to head to the bedroom so I can soak in the tub before bed. Is that alright with you?” You questioned, taking your husband's form in.

“Yes, sweetheart, that’s fine with me. I will be up in a minute or two.”

As you climbed the stairs you headed toward the bedroom and shut the door.

Steve watched you both in silence and didn’t speak until you were out of sight. “Do you think it’s smart bringing her back? She could be a liability. Maybe you should have stuck with your original plan after she left.”

Bucky turned to his friend and backhanded him causing Steve’s face to whip to the side. “The decision has been made and she is home now. I can’t live without her. Maybe if you found love Steven you would understand my decision.”

Heading up the stairs Bucky starts to think things out. Truth is it didn’t take them the full two and a half weeks to find you. As soon as you left New York there was a tail on you. Bucky always made sure someone was watching you at all times. So the first day you stepped into that little town he was notified of your well-being. He gave you two weeks to decide what you wanted to do. Were you going to fly and have him chase you around the globe or were you going to come quietly back home to him? Thankfully, you chose right, and now he has you back in his life again. Plus with you going to learn to trust him again he wouldn’t have to kill you after all. Yes, he contemplated it when you first left but his dark heart was against it from the start. He did love you and couldn’t wait to start a family with you. Now that you know the truth he could make you his Queen.

Walking into the bedroom he closed the door behind him. He could see you in the tub from where he stood and licked his lips. You were always a temptress to him and made him weak in the knees. Bucky was gonna make you his tonight to be sure you were never leaving him again. Slowly he started to undress as he made his way to the bathroom. By the time he stood beside the tub, his cock was rock hard. You stared up at him with doe eyes and exhaled with how big and thick his cock was standing at attention. It was something that still had you aching for him, for that stretch between your legs. 

“Sit forward sweetheart so I can sit behind you. I want to help you relax.”

You did as he said and made room for him to sit down. The tub was huge and could sit you both comfortably. Once he got seated he pulled your back to his chest and kissed your shoulder. His hands started to wander your body as you started making soft noises of pleasure. Every gasp and hitched breath made him want to take you more. But for now, he knew you needed this first to relax your mind, body, and spirit. He caressed your breasts and pinched your nipples, rolling them between his fingers. You arched against him moaning his name softly as his right hand descended your body and to his favorite spot between your legs. His fingers found your clit and started to rub it in slow circles making you whine cause you needed more pressure there. The more he teased you the more you whined against his shoulder. This is how he liked you, a moaning mess who begged for what she needed. 

“Please Bucky, I need you. I have to have you inside me.” Your hips moved to the way he was working you and suddenly he stopped, making you huff in frustration.

“I love it when you beg for me. If I’m going to take you it will be in our bed where I can fuck you like I hate you.” He growled out at you. 

Draining the tub both you and Bucky got out and quickly dried off. Heading to the bedroom Bucky grabbed you by the back of the neck and led you to the king-size bed. Reaching the bed he pushed you face down and grabbed your hips. Before you could say anything Bucky had thrusted his long, thick cock into you hard drawing out a pornographic moan from you. His pace was hard as he fucked you deeply. Your hands dig into the sheets as your husband takes you like a useless whore. His fingers dig harder into your hips as he groans above you.

“Take my cock. Every fucking inch of it.” He breathed out over and over. 

“Fuck, yes, Bucky. More…” you begged. 

Bucky’s left-hand moves to your clit and harshly starts rubbing it. In a matter of seconds, you are moaning his name loud for all to hear. Your walls clenching around him almost taking him over that hurdle but he quickly pulls out and flips you over to your back. He pushes you up the bed a little and re-enters you in one painful thrust. Your legs are around his trim waist while he is battering your pussy using you for his pleasure. His right-hand grabs your neck and starts choking you. Your hands fly up to his hand and try to alleviate the pressure on your neck.

“This pussy is mine. You are mine.” He growls out at you. “If you ever leave me again I swear no one will ever find your body. Do you understand me? Nod your pretty head if you understand.”

You frantically nod your head to the best of your ability. As Bucky pounds into your pussy over and over again. After a few punishing thrusts, Bucky feels your body tense around him as you silently scream your release this time taking Bucky with you.  Bucky lets your throat go as he cums with a roar painting your insides with his release.

You gasp for air while Bucky pulls out of you and collapses next to you on his side. The only sound in the room is you both panting in and out. Sex was always like this between you both, rough, hard, and exhilarating. But when he said no one would find your body if you ever left again made you nervous. Was he just saying things in the heat of the moment as usual? It had to have been ‘cause he promised never to hurt you. 

Bucky got up to clean himself off first then returned to the bedroom with a washcloth to clean you up. He was humming when you both crawled under the blankets to get ready for bed. You clung to his side as you rested your head on his chest. Bucky just wrapped you up in his arms and held you. 

“No one will ever mess with you ever again my love. For if they do they will feel the wrath of me pouring down upon them ten times over. You are my lover, my wife, my everything, and nothing will ever tear us apart again.”

“Yes, Bucky.” A part of you loved knowing he would always protect you. That he had the means to do so. The other part was terrified of what this man could do to not only his enemies but to you. Now you were too scared to leave his side ever again. 

You had drifted off to sleep as Bucky started to put a plan in place if you ever left him again. The house did have a nice basement that he could convert into a living area to lock you away from the world. He would never be without you again. I mean you’re rightfully his.

Updated taglist 2024

@americasass81

@astheskycries

@awesomerextyphoon

@caffiend-queen

@caplanbuckybarnes

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@wolfsmom1

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@kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay

@princessphilly

@mercurial-chuckles

@floralwsloki

@thelonelywitchandthelonelytides

@winterslove1917

[ldysmfrst]

Welcome to American Mate's Master List! The Taglist is CLOSED for this story.

This is an OT7 x Plus Sized/Chubby Reader story. The story will have Mature Scenes. The chapters with these adult themes will have (M) in the chapter name, so please 18+ readers only. Within the chapters, at the start and end of the Mature scene will be the following banner, if you want to skip them.

The Hybrid K-pop group BTS is on tour in America; of course, things don't start out the way they should, but after an encounter with Y/n, things change but will everyone follow Fate?

It's Time to Meet the Bangtan Pack

Chapter 1 - Two Weeks Early

Let's introduce you to the world of Hybrids and Playmates. It really is quite simple until a VIP Potential Client's manager walks into your office two weeks early, and it's only a skeleton crew right now.

Chapter 2 - The Playmate Meeting

Bangtan Pack arrives at Playmate Services Inc., USA Idol Division. It's time for the pack to meet the unsigned Playmates, but things don't go as well as planned.

Chapter 3 - Following Instincts

Dealing with the aftermath of the accident, Bangtan Pack reacts upon instincts, some more than others. Y/n learns a few new things.

Chapter 4 - First Case of Alpha Space

Y/n may call herself a Hybrid supporter but never has she dealt with something like this. Y/n gets to see firsthand some of what an Alpha is like when they get a little lost in their instincts.

Chapter 5 - Heated Discussions (M)

Y/n didn't want to cause trouble, but that seemed to be all she did. However, Bangtan Pack thinks sometimes the trouble is worth it.

Chapter 6 - A Proposition for You

Things get intense for Bangtan Pack and Y/n, but not in a good way. Meeting the doctor tonight has bigger implications than Y/n thought was possible.

Chapter 7 - Is This a Joke

After proposing to Y/n the option to become their playmate, the Bangtan Pack struggles to convince her to accept their Prime Alpha's offer. Will Y/n be persuaded or will she run from Fate unknowingly?

Chapter 8 - Time to Tell the Family Pack (M)

While the Bangtang Pack is excited to have Y/n join as a "Play"mate, that may not be the case for her family pack.

Chapter 9 - Shadows of the Past (M)

It becomes clear that pack dynamics can vary from pack to pack. This sometimes leads to interesting reactions. It's where the past can be seen influencing the present that will shadow all.

Chapter 10 - A Date in the Right Direction

After the visit from Dr. Blackwell, some of the Bangtan pack start behaving differently. Is it a good thing or a bad thing? Maybe the eldest Alpha has some insight. (This chapter is Seokjin-centric in honor of his coming home from the military)

Chapter 11 - Just a Staff Member

Y/n stands up for someone else, and everything starts falling apart. Last night was a dream but the reality of the situation finally hits.

Chapter 12 - Everyone Deserves a Second Chance

It's time to make a choice that can make for an adventure or change y/n's life.

Chapter 13 - Shall we?

It's time for the date with Namjoon. Getting ready becomes more fun than you think it could be with an unexpected surprise and new friends, but what happens as the night goes on?

Chapter 14 - Does it Always End in Ruin?

Scenting in a car with the Prime Alpha goes better than expected, but once they return to the pack house, things take a turn for Y/n.

WARNINGS FOR CHAPTER 15! This is a heavy chapter. Please read before reading the full chapter. Thank you 💜💜💜

Chapter 15 - The Pack Meeting and Troubled Pasts

Y/n shares her history with Bangtan Pack and finds she isn't the only one with a dark family life.

American Mate (16) - We are Alphas

Bangtan Pack discusses what to do next, followed by Namjoon's attempt to correct things.

As a paid member of my Patreon, you can read extra spicy smutty scenes and additional content, and have early release benefits for each chapter.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Reader Asks

Has the Bangtan Pack been with a woman before?

How would The Bangtan Pack react to finding Y/n dancing?

Additional Content

Meet Alpha Giant Flemish Rabbit Jungkook's Family

Patreon Artwork Poll Results (1)

American Mate (5) - Extended Scenting Scene (M)

American Mate (8) - Extended/ Additional Scene (M)

Take a look at Chapter 12, Hobi's Fire Red Suit.

[augustjoy]

Momma Go.

Based on the following ask: @lucreziaq2001 Spencer and a female reader the same age as him are married and have a 1-year-old son, their first child, Isaac (I picked this name just because it sounds good with the last name Reid in my opinion). That day, Reader has her first day back at work. She stayed home for one year after Isaac's birth and now she'll only work part time. But she is naturally anxious to leave her baby for the first time. Spencer is off work that day and no matter how many times he reassures her, she is reluctant to leave. And at some point, Isaac gets "tired" and wants to spend time with his dad, whom he rarely sees compared to his mom, and shows his mom the door. And that makes Spencer, and his wife laugh. Thank you💜. I think it would be funny and cute, like I said. – I did modify this so the baby is more like 2 years old…I know someone wouldn’t really be on maternity leave that long, so I found a work around. Also, reader is a professor! 2 just fit my idea a little better. Enjoy!!!

Spencer Reid x Wife! Reader

Fluff

Word count: 1135

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, pet names, no use of y/n, Fem reader, reader has no physical description, reader and Spencer are married and have a son, child’s name is Isaac, anxiety, reader is a professor with tenure, let me know if I missed any!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

Isaac Gideon Reid. Your two-year-old who you just weren’t ready to leave yet. You and Spencer had talked at length about your plans for when you had your child. You would take time off to spend a year or two with him before returning to work, Spencer would take a full parental leave to be there with you in the very beginning of Isaac’s life.

When you’d found out you were pregnant you were thrilled, you’d told Spencer immediately – forgoing any elaborate surprise announcements. Once you hit the 12-week mark, you sat and had more serious conversations of what you wanted life to look like for baby Isaac.

--

Just a year prior to the conception, you’d been offered a tenure position at the University you worked at. An honor and a gift. You hadn’t expected that to come in handy so soon. So, once you’d hit your second trimester, you scheduled a meeting with your supervisor to discuss a personal sabbatical.

“I’d like to go on sabbatical. I’d start it off with the standard maternity leave, but then ultimately would extend it.” You explained.

“I understand. How long were you thinking? I know this is your first child, so I can imagine you’d like to spend as much time as possible with them.” Your boss inquired.

“I was hoping for twenty months.” You said.

“Oh wow. So, with the maternity leave, you’d be gone for two years.”

“Precisely. I know it is a long time, and it is a lot to ask – especially since I only just got my tenure, but Spencer works so much, and I need this time with the baby. I don’t want them to be in daycare all the time away from their parents.” You justified.

“You were offered tenure because you are a valuable asset to this campus. You deserve it. So yes. I will approve the time. Just, please come back to us…you’re too good a teacher for us to lose you.”

“Thank you so much, and I will!” You smiled.

--

Spencer was eligible for 12 weeks paid parental leave, thanks to his time at the BAU. This allowed the two of you three months to develop a routine and relationship with baby Issac once he was born. Spencer did as much as he could, he woke up for the middle of the night changes and bottles, he read to Isaac, he played with him and encouraged tummy time. Your heart soared at his easy slip into fatherhood.

You knew Spencer had his concerns regarding schizophrenia, but he saw his psychiatrist regularly and kept up to date with evaluations to ensure that he wasn’t developing any of the symptoms. You’d always told him that his strength would make him an incredible father…and you could see him starting to believe you.

--

Spencer returned to work after his leave was up, but he asked that you set up cameras in the house, not only for security reasons, but also so you didn’t feel the need to film everything…it would be saved automatically. He hated that he missed milestones but was grateful for the flexibility your job provided.

He missed Isaac’s first steps, but he was there when he tried solid foods for the first time, and he thankfully caught his first words during a FaceTime call while he was in Michigan on a case.

Spencer had started spending every second he had off work at home with you and Isaac, desperate to make up for lost time. He started using his vacation days a bit more frequently to join you at doctor’s appointments, to celebrate mother’s and father’s days, to celebrate holidays and Isaac’s birthday. He started to understand why Derek left the BAU, his family meant everything to him, and he wouldn’t give that up for anything.

--

Two years had flown by, you didn’t know where the time had gone. Isaac had grown into his personality, he was such a happy baby, always giggling and cuddling either you or Spencer.

That is why it was so hard for you to go back to work, the time had finally come for you to return to teaching, only you didn’t feel ready. How were you supposed to pick up and leave him.

Thankfully, Spencer has a few mandatory days off so he’d be home to spend the day with Isaac, as opposed to going to daycare for the first time, but either way, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave. You’d already showered and gotten ready for the day, meticulously packed your bag…checking it twice to ensure you weren’t forgetting anything. Spencer had even packed you a lunch and set it out for you.

“You ready to go sweetheart?” Spencer asked, wrapping his arms around you from behind.

“Ready as in physically, yes. Ready as in mentally or emotionally…no. I don’t think I can leave him Spence.” You’d whispered.

Isaac was currently sitting on the living room floor making all sorts of noises as he flung a toy dinosaur around. You made your way over, sitting behind him on the couch. You brushed your fingers through the little tufts of hair on his head.

“Hi baby. You ready to spend the day with daddy?” You cooed.

“Dada play!” Isaac called.

Spencer joined you both in the living room, joining Isaac on the floor and picking up one of the other dinosaurs.

“Sweetheart I know you’re nervous, but everything will be okay. I will be here, you have access to the cameras, and you can text or call between your classes.” Spencer attempted to ease your thoughts.

“I know, I just feel like it is too soon. He’s still so little.” You sniffled.

Isaac had gotten up and was waddling through the house. Things were well baby-proofed, so you weren’t concerned for his safety, mostly just curious of where he was going so you looked after him as he made his way past the kitchen.

Isaac looked back at you and Spencer, before turning around and continuing his trek. He only stopped once he reached the front door. Looking back at you.

“Momma go.”

“What baby?” You asked.

“Momma go. Dada play!” he repeated.

You looked back to where Spencer remained on the floor and couldn’t help the giggles that escaped you. The two of you fell into a fit of laughter at the ridiculousness of the situation. Here your two-year-old was confirming that you were being irrational and that everything would be just fine.

So, you stood, grabbed your things, kissed Spencer and Isaac both before making your way to work. You were sure to text between classes which were met with photos of Spence and Isaac doing all sorts of fun things.

Today wasn’t so bad after all…now sending him to daycare, that was something for another day.

[mapsthewanderer]

The LADS boys

- You’ve got moan: Message tone Edition

⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰

Details: 550 words. 18+ stuff. DO YOU GUYS remember Sherlock?! And THAT scene?! Apparently, it never left my brain because last night, while I was getting ready for bed like a normal person, my brain went: “OMG wouldn’t that be such a funny way to tease them?” Cut to: me, wide awake, spending hours drafting this instead of sleeping. LOL. Anyway, I had a completely unhinged idea and decided to roll with it:

You change their message sound… to your moan. It plays even on mute. You’re welcome.

⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰

⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰

❤️ Sylus

Mid-auction

Sylus is seated near the front of the auction floor, one leg crossed over the other, bidder’s card resting casually in his hand. He’s in one of those moods—calculating, quiet, already planning which piece he’ll outbid everyone for just because he can.

A moan—your moan—echoes through the hushed room like velvet thunder. Every head turns. Toward the phone glowing softly beside his hand.

He doesn’t blink. Just sets his card down, lifts his drink, and says low under his breath—voice dark silk and dry amusement—

“Bold bid.” He takes a slow sip, eyes never leaving the screen. “Shame you didn’t read the fine print, kitten: no refunds. No mercy.”

Then he opens your message, tongue pressed to his cheek, expression unreadable—but his eyes? Gleaming. He shifts slightly, legs spreading just a little wider, like his body’s reacting before his mind catches up.

Sylus: You’re playing with fire.

…Do it again

⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰

🩵 Zayne

Clinic, speaking with a nurse

The hallway’s tense. Fluorescents buzzing. Someone’s coding in the trauma bay. He’s handing off a chart—

And your message moans through the room like a forbidden spell. His phone lights up in his chest pocket.

A nurse drops her pen. Another coughs and looks away. Zayne doesn’t even flinch.

He exhales through his nose. Slides his glasses up the bridge with one finger. Locks his jaw. And without turning his head, he says quietly to the nurse beside him:

“Clear the board for ten. I’ll be back.”

Then he walks straight to the diagnostics room and closes the door like it’s a church confessional. Jaw tight, hand lingering a second too long on the lock. He exhales once, sharp, and shifts his stance—just enough to ease the pressure building under his belt.

Zayne: I assume this is deliberate.

…What time will you be home?

⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰

💜 Rafayel

Gallery opening

He’s dressed nice, hair styled, pacing the gallery to inspect lighting on one of the installations. It’s calm. Moody. Sophisticated.

He’s mid-sentence, holding up a palette in one hand and gesturing to reference photos on his phone with the other—

until your moan plays.

Rich. Breathless.

Echoing off the hardwood floors and minimalist walls like it belongs in the gallery’s soundscape.

A patron gasps. One of the curators coughs.

Raf freezes, head tilted, mouth twitching into a smile that is not safe for public viewing.

“Apologies. Seems my muse is feeling vocal today.”

He doesn’t even check the message yet—just exhales slowly, one hand running through his hair as his stance shifts, loose and lazy. Then he turns toward the nearest glass of wine like he’s already planning how to toast to your audacity.

Rafayel: you minx.

I was tryin to behave tonight.

…guess that’s over.

⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰

🩷 Xavier

Delivering a post-attack report, Hunter’s association

He’s standing. High ranked hunters seated. Lights dim. Screens flickering with after-action data.

And then your message hits.

Your moan.

Loud.

Everyone freezes. A sharp static silence.

Xavier exhales, closes his eyes, and says nothing. Just tilts his head slightly. Like he’s reprocessing the entire structure of reality in a single breath. Then, calmly, he taps to mute. It doesn’t work. He watches it for a beat, then shrugs—and slips the phone back into his pocket.

He finishes the report.

Leaves the room.

And once he’s alone in the corridor, one hand in his hair, he leans back and types his reply.

Xavier: I c.

…Noted.

A shameless shot follows—his very obvious problem straining behind tight pants.

Xavier: U will not sleep 2nite.

⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰

🧡 Caleb

The Fleet HQ

Strategic deployment charts flicker. Uniforms pressed, posture locked. Caleb stands with perfect precision at the head of the room. Every eye on him.

And then—

Your moan.

Crystal clear.

From his phone.

No one moves. No one breathes.

He doesn’t flinch. Just slowly, very slowly, reaches for his phone. Glances at it once. Then slides it back into his coat like he’s sealing a weapon.

No expression.

Just a single sentence, low and final:

“You’re dismissed.”

Chairs scrape. Footsteps rush. Doors hiss shut behind fleeing officers.

He yanks off a glove with his teeth, drops it, and starts typing—chest heaving, breath ragged, eyes locked on the screen.

Caleb: …That’s what you picked for my message tone?

Cute. I’m keeping it :3

We’ll talk about consequences later.

But you’re not walking straight next leave, just so you know.

⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰

⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰

Art credit: Secretos de belleza webtoon

⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰ ⊱⋆⊰

[thecaduceusclay]

Alright, I’ll bite. Devil’s Minion in both the book and the show feels very connected to the AIDS crisis… but I’ve only ever acquired knowledge about that period through osmosis, so I’m curious if you have any thoughts/connections or information. 👀

I put out a call for people to ask me fandom-related queer history questions since I know a lot! I want to remind people this is open and that I welcome any fandom questions about queer history!

Ok this is going to get long because I have a lot of feelings on this topic especially. For those who just want some resources, further reading, and my sources, you can find those at the end. I'll pepper some links in, but I'll try to put the bulk of it there. But Daniel Molloy in the show especially is a man heavily impacted by the history of the AIDS crisis and I have a lot to say about that. I'm also assuming a knowledge of what HIV and AIDS are in the first place. You can do some quick reading here.

First, a note on the books since I mostly want to talk about the show. Queen of the Damned was published in 1988 when the AIDS crisis was in full swing. The peak of deaths was in 1993, but 1988 wasn't exactly early in it. The previous year saw the start of the AIDS memorial quilt, the founding of ACT UP (we'll talk about them later 💜), and Princess Diana publicly shaking the hand of an HIV positive patient. The shadow is cast over the culture, Anne Rice was not immune to the zeitgeist. Hell, she was living in the Castro district at the time and that is a notably queer area. (Her son Christopher talks about that briefly here.) I don't this the parallels are an accident. Armand is a man watching his lover slowly waste away while he can do nothing about it. Sure, it isn't AIDS, it's the alcohol and lack of care to his body. Sure, Armand could turn him. But despite their fun and their arguments being such a focus, that helplessness and fear permeates their relationship in the Devil's Minion chapter. Like so many gay men at the time, Daniel is wasting away. Armand is tormented by this. That is one of the most prominent faces of queer men at this time!

Daniel in the show has more going on in relation to the crisis.

I'll start by saying this in case it needs asserted, Daniel is a leftist journalist. And I don't mean in a casual liberal way. He's clearly passionate and involved and these things matter to him. He makes flippant and offensive comments in the interview sure, but I'm not saying he's perfect. His books give this away. He wrote about environmental issues in Under the Burning Sky, the prison industrial complex in The United States of Prison and Profit, and seemingly the surveillance state in Homelandia and likely in his book on Snowden. I'd also like to gesture to his work with "the barb". The Berkeley Barb was a leftist underground student paper. I'd recommend taking a look at their archives linked here and their website to get a grasp for what he was writing with at the time. (Warning, the archives are often NSFW). But in short the barb's attitude was largely anti-war, sex-positive, fuck the establishment kind of writing. He was already like this when he ran into Louis in '73. This will inform our view of him moving forward and will be our framework for understanding how he interfaced with the AIDS crisis.

I think it's important to note Daniel's proximity to AIDS too. I mean, subtextually, he had a brush with it when Louis nearly killed him in '73. Louis was a silent killer sweeping through the queer men of San Fran. Gay men were likely seeing lovers and friends disappear after going home with a stranger. Risky sex and drug use leading to a death going unacknowledged, one that's largely impacting gay men? I think the subtext of it is queer-- I mean clear. (Louis is not an all around metaphor for AIDS, but the ties between it and vampirism in the series seem clear, and in this instance the connection is there specifically for Louis, no one come for my ass).

Speaking of, the proximity is there in his behaviors too. He's a drug user who goes home with random men. (Casual sex was a big part of gay culture back then, see the hanky code and cruising for this.) Both of these actions put him at high risk of contracting HIV and put him among populations more likely to contract it. He was using heroin, and needle sharing is a huge risk factor in the spread of bloodborne illnesses, which can lead to the spread of HIV (which is why needle exchanges are so important.)

Finally for incidental proximity early on, Daniel was living in San Francisco. We know he frequented Polynesian Mary's at least, and possibly other gay bars. He also likely lived near or in the Haight-Ashbury neighborhood (given his memoir being called Hate and Ashbury). This area is very notably queer, historically. By 1990 HIV was the leading cause of death for young men in San Francisco at 61%. That's frighteningly high, and sure this was much later, but San Francisco was an epicenter.

AIDS was first identified in 1981 as a spread of Karposi Sarcoma and PCP (or "gay pneumonia" colloquially) in gay men in areas like New York, Los Angeles, and San Francisco. The first KS patient to go public (Bobbi Campbell) was in San Fran. He later wrote the first pamphlet on "safer sex". The first KS clinic was opened here, and later the first dedicated AIDS clinic (which Daniel seems to have written an article about according to his LinkedIn). By 1982 this epidemic was known as GRID, or Gay Related Immuno-Deficiency. (Interesting parallel that s1 notes Daniel as having an auto-immune disease, which Parkinson's is not primarily known as...). Daniel was covering these early years. His book A Shadow on the Skin was about this! It was a collection of articles he wrote on KS in the early years as he documented it becoming the AIDS crisis! He was routinely writing about the early epidemic. (s/o to @cbrownjc for this post where I found the blurb on the back of the book).

So, while living in San Francisco, this deeply politically involved young man was watching the early crisis unfold. He saw gay men dying slowly. Some gay men at the time described watching the AIDS crisis sweep through as watching their cities become ghost towns. This was something terrifying, something haunting, and something attributed largely to queer men. I mean, it was called GRID until 1982/1983. It wasn't until Ryan White, a 13 year old boy, contracted HIV from a blood transfusion in 1984 that people began seeing it as anything but just a gay disease. Even then, public perception didn't change quickly. It was so heavily associated with gay men, even, that getting national medical authorities to recognize women could contract it and treat it in women was a struggle.

All of this horror was occurring and the government ignored it. When they didn't ignore it? Ronald Reagan, then president, laughed at it. Hospitals were terrified of gay men, some refused to touch or treat AIDS patients. The FDA and CDC were slow to respond and to treat it.

In season one, Daniel is dismissive of his own queerness. He shrugs off his being in gay bars and hooking up with men, acts like it wasn't a big deal and it was just to score. I think this dismissive attitude likely stems from the AIDS crisis, at least in part. Lingering trauma from Louis' attack in '73 may play a role, after all, the body keeps the score. But I don't think we can overlook AIDS as a factor. The writers clearly didn't overlook it in his characterization, as exemplified above. I think they mean for this to impact who he is and how we view him! He watched some of the most terrifying years in recent queer history, of course he would downplay his queerness, of course he would marry two women even if he wasn't happy with them. (Not denying he may be bisexual, but he's certainly closeted.) And in the end, despite distance from his queerness, he still ended up having to waste away slowly from a disease with no cure, just uncomfortable treatments, much like men in the early AIDS crisis. (Early AIDS treatments were all trial based, you were lucky if you got in. You were lucky if you didn't end up in the control group. But the gamble was all you had, and those were the lucky ones. Even then it may not work, it was a trial for a reason. It wasn't until 1987 that AZT was approved to treat AIDS. It wasn't until the mid-90's, years later, that AIDS was considered survivable. I can't help but see his levadopa and how it only slows the inevitable as a parallel to this. A terrible reflection of earlier fears. Parkinson's has no cure. He'll deteriorate until he succumbs, even with medicine. He's lucky if it improves his quality of life, if it doesn't just make him more miserable. He'd be lucky to get a few more years.)

If Devil's Minion happened in the past, Armand watched his lover engage in high risk activities, while clearly aware of the risk given his coverage of AIDS. He watched Daniel writing a book worth of articles on KS and AIDS clinics. He knew how horrifying it was, he knew Daniel knew, and he watched his lover play with fire by using heroin anyway. And in the end? He still watched Daniel deteriorate slowly with medicine that only slowed it more.

If Devil's Minion is only coming and wasn't in the past at all? I think the impact of AIDS mostly falls to Daniel. After being turned he embraces life so fully. Yes, because he was dying before. But his style feels more queer once again. He doesn't have to fear any human diseases! He can fuck men! He can be gay! The shadow that hung over his youthful queer exploration, that interrupted it, is gone for him. And now he doesn't feel it's too late for him, I imagine. I mean, before he didn't have many peers, so many his age died. But now he's a vampire, he's outside of this. He can fuck young men, vampires, whatever. He's now outside of society whether he likes it or not, he's the "other", in for a penny in for a pound, right? And I think that's all going to impact who he is as a character going forward now too.

If there's interest in a Part 2 on the impact of AIDS activism in New York, since Daniel likely saw a lot of it up close, I'll gladly write it. I have opinions and info to share.

For now, stay safe everyone. I love you. And here's some further reading.

~~~~~~~~

A timeline of HIV and AIDS (1981-2024)

Only Your Calamity: The Beginnings of Activism by and for People With AIDS

HIV Infection as Leading Cause of Death Among Young Adults in US Cities and States (1993, about 1990)

On the impacts of the AIDS crisis on gay culture

The Queer significance of San Francisco

1 2 3 4 5 6

AIDS Memorial Quilt

Princess Diana's AIDS Advocacy

About the Berkeley Barb

How Ryan White impacted the view of AIDS

Daniel Molloy's LinkedIn

Practicum Page

[stuckygeekevents]

📣 STUCKY PRIDE MONTH 2025 ANNOUNCEMENT 🌈

Hello, Stucky Lovers!

June is here, and that means it’s time to celebrate love, identity, resistance, and all the beautifully queer ways Steve and Bucky find their way back to each other. 🏳️‍🌈💙❤️

This year, we’re keeping things low-stress with a Stucky Pride Month Prompt List designed to fit around your busy schedules—including those of you working on the Historical Fiction Mini Bang!

💫 What is it? A flexible, low-pressure event where you can create fics, art, playlists, moodboards, headcanons, or anything else inspired by the prompts.

🖊️ How does it work? Each prompt set includes three abstract words/phrases to inspire creativity, exploration, and queerness in all its forms. Use one prompt, all three, remix them—whatever works for you. There are no deadlines, no word limits, and no pressure.

📅 When? All throughout June! Post when you’re ready and feel free to revisit the prompts later, too.

🪩 Where do I share? • On Discord: Use the #stucky-pride channel • On Tumblr: Tag your posts with #stuckypride2025 and/or #stucky pride month • AO3 users: You're welcome to use Stucky Pride 2025 in your notes or tags • AO3 users: You're welcome to use Stucky Pride 2025 in your notes or tags and add your works to our official collection.

🧠 Prompt Tracks:

We’ve organized the prompts into “tracks” (like songs on an album or chapters in a story)—each with a set of three themed ideas. You can use one, two, or all three prompts from any track. Mix and match, interpret them however you want, and most of all—have fun with it!

❤️ Track 1 • Hidden in Plain Sight • The First Time • Color in the Dark

🧡 Track 2 • Freedom • What We Carry • One Step at a Time

💛 Track 3 • Smoke and Glitter • After Midnight • The Feeling of Being Seen

💚 Track 4 • Two Pints and a Protest • Loud and Proud • Something Borrowed

💙 Track 5 • Unwritten Letters • Chosen Family • We Made It

💜 Track 6 • Back Then • Right Now • Someday Soon

🩷 Track 7 • Soft Hands • Bruised Hearts • Bold Love

🤎 Track 8 • Don’t Ask • Don’t Tell • Don’t Stop

🖤 Track 9 • Lips Like a Secret • Eyes Like Home • Hearts Like Fireworks

🤍 Track 10 • Coming Home • Coming Out • Coming Alive

This is about joy, love, softness, history, protest, and pride—all the things that make Steve and Bucky such an iconic queer ship. Whether you're creating something big or small, we can't wait to see what you come up with 💖

🏳️‍🌈✨ Happy Pride Month, Stucky fam! ✨🏳️‍🌈

*Also, just to clarify—while this is a Stucky Pride event, Steve and Bucky (and any other characters you want to include) can be portrayed with any sexuality or gender identity. It’s not limited to just Stucky being gay! Everyone’s welcome to explore diverse identities and relationships in their stories.

[snowysyndrome]

So, seeing as I added Welcome Home to my Fandom list, I thought to make something for it before leaving to visit family! Hope you enjoy it!

Also, where are my welcome home people at? I genuinely miss you all.

Sum: You moved into the neighborhood and meet all the occupants of the place.

❤️ After moving in, the first neighbor you met was the most darling of them all; Wally Darling! Naturally.

🧡 He's the one to show you around and introduce you to all his friends in the neighborhood. Julie, Frank, Eddie, Howdy, Poppy, Home, and Barnaby!

💛 Of course, he introduced you to his best friend first; Barnaby B. Beagle. The blue dog of which cracked a joke not long after meeting you. (Read: immediately after meeting you.)

💚 Julie would love that they all have a new neighbor! She'd rope you into whatever she was doing before you're taken away to meet the others by Wally if she didn't drag you to meet Frank before he does so.

🩵 Frank wouldn't be the most enthusiastic about a new neighbor, unlike Julie. He'd probably be studying some bugs before being interrupted by Julie dragging you behind her, shouting out to him to meet you. If you share a similar interest, he'd be pretty happy about that and would probably share some facts about them with you.

💙 Eddie. Sweet Eddie Dear would help you move the furniture into your house if he didn't have any mail to deliver that day.

💜 Poppy, having heard of a new neighbor moving in, would have made some cookies for you; giving them to you when you go to meet her.

🩷 If Howdy didn't have a shop to run, he would also offer to help move things into your house; but unfortunately, he has to stay in his store to make sure a certain blue pompadour haired puppet didn't steal any apples.

🤍 Now Home. Home is unable to talk because it's, well, a house. So, instead of that, it makes a bunch of noises by opening and closing the window shutters in greeting.

I.. Kinda got lazy at the end... Also, can you tell who my favorite is? Lol

Anyways, I hope you guys liked this, and feel free to request for more!

Until next time, my friends!

[hypnautic-cereal]

And now: a comprehensive analysis on Eddie Dear’s drag persona

(Or at least how I interpret it✨)

💜💎💜💎💜💎💜💎💜💎💜💎💜💎💜💎

The Tiara:

Ah, starting this off with the glittery tiara sitting atop Eddie’s head. Its royalty and elegance is easy to notice, and its glimmer emphasizes the brightness Delle Ivory brings to any room she walks into. The only thing is…the tiara is fake, merely plastic and easy to break if one wrong step is made, much like the persona of Delle Ivory. Regardless, it’s taken seriously by all who don’t take the time to look closer to it.

The makeup:

I’ve seen other artists draw the makeup much closer to actual drag makeup, and that’s something I very much so aspire to work on. The way I enjoy drawing it is a bit simple however: just some red lipstick, subtle blush, shimmering blue eyeshadow, and a very large eyeliner wing.

Blue eyeshadow and red lipstick was often used in counter culture, especially from the 1960s-90s. In an article by flannels.com, “the look came to symbolise both the establishment (take, Barbie) and a critique of the steadfast rules of what a woman should look and behave like that predated that era.”

Blue eyeshadow was also associated with drag queens, specifically the late drag queen Divine in the film Pink Flamingos

The red lipstick also has some symbolism. During World War II, red lipstick stood as a symbol of defiance and unwavering spirit, as even in concentration camps women made their own red lipstick out of either crushed brick or berries

After the war as well, red lipstick was a staple in 1950s and 60s Hollywood, with stars such as Marylin Monroe, Elizabeth Taylor, and Audrey Hepburn, with the lipstick color being also a symbol of seduction and confidence (paraphrasing from bangstyle.com

Akin to the blue eyeshadow, as large eyeliner wings became popular in film, it drew close with the drag performance community, being a symbol of grunge and counterculture

Couldn’t find much in terms of blush throughout the 60s or 70s, but there was a rise in popularity of pastel shades of blush (you can call the blush Delle uses pastel in comparison to her skin tone, right?)

The dress:

The sparkling mass that is Delle Ivory’s dress, wow. Purple is a color that is very, very rarely used within the world of Welcome Home, reserved mostly just for shading in blue. Eddie however, is the only one who has purple on his body, that being his eyelids.

The whole idea of purple being a reserved color is flipped entirely on its head, with Delle Ivory absolutely holding the mantle for the character associated with purple.

The slit that leaves room for Eddie to show some leg tells us that Delle is not at all afraid of being open with herself, letting everything she feels reveal itself to others.

There’s no real message behind the glitter, the dress would just be a simple purple dress without it, and trust me, drag queens do not do simple.

Even with today’s modern associations with purple, it’s known as a color for iconic moments and sass. This can be often seen with TikTok and its collection of Purple Heart (💜) memes. They’re a bit corny, but that’s what plays into how iconic they are; it’s not a subgenre of TikTok that’s meant to be serious with it’s humor, simply being a subgenre to recognize humorously stan culture moments.

The boa:

There wasn’t really any intended symbolism with the sparkly boa. I just thought it would be a nice accessory for Eddie/Delle to have from time to time.

The heels:

At first I didn’t think that much about the heels, I thought of them as pretty white heels, but that’s when I thought about it more.

White is often seen as a color of innocence. Despite all the showiness of Delle Ivory, it has to be reminded that this does take place in a puppet show made for children. The dainty white shoes balances the star power the persona of Delle Ivory dazzles the audience with, by also carrying Eddie’s humbleness and kindness towards others.

Another character in the neighborhood seen in white shoes is Julie Joyful. In my head, I headcanon that Eddie has just a hint of jealousy towards Julie, being able to be loud and overflowing with positive everywhere she goes. The white heels of Delle Ivory mimic Julie’s mary janes, as both share their matching energy with everyone they come across.

What else am I missing…oh yeah!

The name:

Most drag names are puns or some kind of play on words. I wanted Eddie’s drag persona to still be tied to his career of being a mailman, so what’s the one thing mailman do? Deliveries

Deliveries

Delivery

Delle Ivory

DelIvory

Delivery

Mailman

Delivery💜