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p4ranormaluv · 18 days

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BED CHEM

amidst trying to keep your gpa up and not get kicked off the cheer team, you take your friend’s advice and ask jake sim, one of the smartest students in your campus, to tutor you. you see him as a snarky know-it-all who’s obsessed with correcting your every mistake, and he sees you as a dumb cheerleader with a rep for breaking hearts. but as things unfold, you discover you both have something to learn from each other, and it’s a lot more than just algebra.

pairing) nerd!jake x cheerleader!reader

genre) smut/pwp, enemies to lovers, college au, fluff, angst

contents) f!reader, popular!jake/reader, jake's a smart a.ss [& a jerk at first but let him cook], basketball player!heeseung/jay, temporary reader x hee, exes, misunderstood reader, brief conversation about throwing up, eventual pining, desc. of anxiety, fear of emotional intimacy, jealousy, lack of communication, happy ending, [ft. itzy's chaeryeong, skz's felix, & layla]

smut warnings) under cut!

wc) 14.5k

now playing) bed chem — sabrina carpenter

notes) i took the lyrics “come right on me, i mean camaraderie!” and ran with it. fic’s moodboard here!

smut warnings) several smut scenes, switch!jake/reader, angry s.ex?, s.ex in locker room, jake fu.cks reader in cheer uniform, ti.tty sucking, or.al fixation!jake, munch!jake, or.al s.ex, degra.dation, begging, hair pulling, c.um swallowing, exhibi.tionism, reader makes jake almost c.um in his pants during class, s.ex in janitor’s closet [they do it in a bed eventually lol], lots of kissing, praise, flexible!reader, pull out method [dont], jake slaps reader’s thigh once, petnames [baby, little/baby/good girl], reader mentions being on the pill, raw s.ex

the gym is bustling, filled by cheerleaders and the basketball team as you all practice for the game on wednesday.

“okay! 5 minute break and then we’ll start those high kicks again!” your cheer captian announces after confirming to your coach with some silent hand gestures.

you follow your team as they walk to the bleachers, most grabbing their water bottles or sitting down and wiping the sweat off their skin with a towel.

you reach into your duffel bag, rummaging with your hand blindly for a few moments before realizing you don’t feel your water bottle. unzipping it completely, you search for a bit before letting your head drop with an exhausted sigh.

“what’s wrong?” chaeryeong asks from the seat above yours as she redoes her ponytail.

“i somehow forgot my water.”

“oh, you can have some of mine!” she offers, raising her owala to you.

“do you know how much bacteria is probably in that?” you smile with a teasing grimace, even though you really do mean what you say.

“wow, not even a thank you!” chae pretends to be hurt, putting an offended hand to her chest. “i bet you’re a stanley girly, aren’t you?”

“nope. just a plain water bottle i got from target. secure screw cap, no straw, easy to clean.”

“are you trying to sell it to me?” chae quirks a playful brow and you laugh, waving a hand in front of you as you start to walk towards the gym’s exit. “if you want to drink from your mold filled bottle go ahead. i’m gonna go to the water fountain.”

chaeryeong sticks her tongue out at you just as you enter the hallway, so you make sure to pop your head back in and do the same childish expression at her before approaching the fountain and leaning down to take a drink.

“oh! s-sorry.” a deep voice says as you see sneakers suddenly appear in your downward view. you wipe your mouth and lift your head up to see heeseung, who evidently just came out of the restroom and almost walked right into you.

his hair remains in his face despite him brushing it back with a muscular arm, glistening biceps almost distracting you enough that you forget to answer. but once your eyes travel from his sculpted arms, to his jersey that clings to his sweaty chest, and finally his sweet, doe eyes that stare at you, you remember that he’s expecting you to reply.

“no, it’s okay! don’t worry about it.”

“did you forget your water too?” he chuckles, the sound sending a flurry of butterflies to erupt in your stomach.

“yeah…” you answer lamely.

apparently all of your hot cheerleader mojo goes down the drain when you’re in front of lee heeseung, your college’s top basketball player. (it also doesn’t help that you’ve been crushing on him for a good month now.)

“too?” you echo, unable to think of anything else to keep the conversation going but desperately wanting to. despite having regular practices in the same vicinity, this is the first conversation you’ve had, aside from some lingering stares and a few shared smiles.

“jay usually brings a cooler of drinks, but he didn’t this time. probably forgot.”

“oh, pre game nerves, perhaps?” you joke, smiling and tilting your head teasingly.

“we’re not nervous.” heeseung smirks with a flirty tone. “we always win.”

“cocky, are we?”

“maybe. or maybe you cheering for me throughout the game is my lucky charm.”

you bite down your grin to keep yourself under control, delighted at how well your dry conversation has turned into some playful flirting. you hoped he was into you, but you’re not going to assume that from a few distant smiles.

“what makes you think i’m cheering just for you?”

heeseung chuckles and steps closer, you noting how he has to tilt his head down to look at you because he’s so damn tall. his eyes zero in on yours, an intensity filling the air as he takes a breath to speak—

but right before he can, another voice interrupts as it echos down the hallway.

“yo, hee! they’re needing you back, man.” a shorter man runs up, it not taking you long to recognize him.

it’s jake sim, one of the smartest seniors on your campus.

you feel like you’re from completely different worlds whenever you see him. he’s popular like you, yes. but he has a pretty clean rep with perfect grades to match. professor’s love him for his kiss-ass attitude and students…well.

they want to fuck him— or him fuck them. either way. nothing really matters to anyone when your face is as cute as his and you have a hot aussie accent.

not that you relate to the any of those sentiments. you actually find him annoying as fuck.

“oh,” jake mumbles when he notices you behind heeseung’s larger frame, sounding almost bothered by your presence.

well the feeling’s mutual.

“come on, dude. they sent me to get you.” he further urges, grabbing heeseung’s arm.

“what are you even doing here, jake?” you ask with a hand raising to your hip, only a hint of your annoyance at the interruption showing in your tone. he’s not on the basketball team, neither cheer. he has no reason to be here.

“not right now, pom-poms.” the boy dismisses, not even bothering to look at you as he drags heeseung off.

you scoff in utter disbelief at his rudeness.

he always steals the spotlight when you’re about to answer a question in your one shared class, and now he’s stealing your man? (granted, he’s not your man— but he could have been, if jake hadn’t ran over!)

you stand and wonder what he was about to say. what if that conversation could have ended with him finally asking for your number!

“y/n! c’mon, girl! it’s go time!” one of your team member’s call out from the gym doorway.

you sigh before running to join your squad.

(❤︎)

it’s taken you to nearly be under your minimum gpa to admit that you’re failing algebra, a course you’re required to take. not only can this harm your future, but you could get kicked off the cheer team.

“well, you have to do something!” chaeryeong whisper-yells at you as you sit in physics class.

“i don’t want to have to pay for a tutor, i’m broke enough as it is.”

“then ask one of your friends.” chae suggests.

“…none of my friends are that smart,” you giggle under your breath, chaeryeong slapping you on the arm and causing an echo to resound in the room. like two mischievous children, chae retracts her hand to her lap and you straighten your posture, waiting to make sure no one is looking over at you.

a few moments later, and chae leans closer to you, eyes staring forward in an attempt to be more subtle.

"just ask jake. he's an engineer major. he’s gotta be good at algebra. and i heard he's loaded, so he doesn’t even need your money."

"hell no." you answer plainly, lips falling into a straight line as you glance over at the boy who’s rows away from you, nearly at the front of the class.

try hard.

"oh, come on, y/n. he's not that bad."

"he is. and besides, we’re not friends and i couldn’t ever bring myself to ask a favor of him, nevertheless for free!”

“he’s your best shot, dude. it’s either this, or officially screw yourself over.”

chaeryeong’s words— though not eloquently put, are true. and they annoyingly ring in your head for the remainder of the class.

chae hurries out to go to her next class, as does most everyone else. but you have a little bit of time.

so you linger in your seat, watching how meticulous jake is about placing his things in his backpack, wondering how he manages to straighten his glasses in the most egotistical way possible. you wait until jake starts walking towards the exit and is farther away from the professor, not wanting to have this conversation right in front of him. finally (reluctantly) you stand up and catch up to jake’s side.

he doesn’t bother slowing down, continuing to walk.

“hey, uh- jake,” you begin, feeling weird to say his name to his face. you cut to the chase, not caring enough to keep up impressions with him. “look, i need a tutor. i’m-“

“no, sorry.” he cuts you off simply, leaving you a tad stunned as your stride is broken. you stare at the back of his head until he turns a corner, then you go jogging after him.

“what? but, i-i”

“i don’t want to have to spend my free time tutoring someone.” jake explains, glancing at you before looking away just as quickly.

“i can pay you.” you say, innerly embarrassed at how fast your resolve has crumbled. chaeryeong would be laughing at you if she could see this right now.

“not interested.”

you can almost hear her in your brain…

“well, there’s gotta be something!”

jake finally comes to a sudden halt, almost causing you to run into his backpack before he turns to face you.

“i’m assuming it’s grammar you need help with?”

your initially surprised expression drops into a glare as you reply with a clearly fed up, “no. algebra.”

jake seems to ponder this for a moment, before smiling at you in a way that actually seems like it may be genuine (or at least not entirely snarky).

“walk my dog.”

“huh?” is that a euphemism for something?

“my dog, layla. she’s full of energy but sometimes i’m just too tired after classes or work. do you like animals?”

“i’m a biology major.”

jake looks a bit stunned, eyes blinking to open wider as they skim over your appearance for a second.

“what?” you start, very clearly offended. “why do you look so surprised?”

“i just thought it’d be…something else.”

“like what?”

“i don’t know. something in the creative field?”

“that’s stereotypical.”

jake bites on his bottom lip, you realizing he’s trying to conceal a smile, but before you can get mad about it— he continues.

“look, if you want it, we have a deal. yes or no, pom-poms?”

a flare of anger sparks inside you every single time he refers to you as ‘pom-poms’.

with lips pressed into an agitated line, you stretch out your open palm demandingly. “give me your phone.”

“why?”

“so i can give you my number and type in the contact name myself. my names y/n, not pom-poms.”

jake laughs under his breath, handing you his phone and watching as you type in your information.

“so is that a yes?”

“yes. can we meet tomorrow?”

“at my place.” jake agrees. “jay’s my only roommate so it should be less distracting for you.”

you hand jake back his phone, the man giggling at the little wave emoji you sent to yourself through his number so you’d have it in your phone.

“by the way, i already knew your name.”

“then why do you always call me pom-poms?”

“becaause…you always have them?” jake answers like it’s obvious. you scoff, putting an unamused hand to your hip.

“i don’t have them right now, do i?”

“no, and it’s honestly a little eerie.” he smirks, clearly intentionally getting under your skin and enjoying every second of it.

“whatever,” you exhale, completely over the conversation. “i gotta go to my next class. see ya.”

“see ya, pom-poms.”

…jerk.

(❤︎)

heeseung was right, they won the game, and his team wanted to go out and celebrate. it wasn’t a big win or anything, just a casual competition, but every now and then they like to celebrate their wins by going out to eat or a casual hang out at someone’s dorm. you also think they do it so they have an excuse to invite you and your cheer squad to hang out.

and this time was no different. after the game you all piled in friend’s cars and headed over to a small but good local restaurant nearby. unfortunately, you never got a chance to talk to heeseung. the restaurant was smaller and a bit packed with all of you in there, and you and hee ended up being seated far away from each other. all the different conversations and bustle of the restaurant covered up anyone’s voices besides who was right next to you, so you couldn’t even hear him.

still, it was fun. you ended up rolling into bed a little past 1 am.

which you’re now really regretting as you had to wake up at 5 am to get ready and rush to conditioning practice. once you’ve finished your drills, showered, and are walking to your first class of the day, you decided to text jake.

you: hey 👋 we still down for today

jake sim: Yes.

okay. one text and you’re already seeing some similarities in how he texts with your 60 year old uncle.

you: there a certain time i should come

you: also can u give me ur building number

jake: Is there*

you: huh

jake: IS there a certain time I should come?*

jake: Do you have something against vowels and punctuation?

you: omg!!

you: just tell me the fuckin time and address!!?!

you: is that enough punctuation for you?

jake: …

jake: Fucking*

(❤︎)

after cheer practice you hop in your car and enter in the address that was like pulling teeth for jake to finally give you. you can tell by looking at the address that it’s off campus, and as you pull up in jake’s driveway you realize chaeryeong was right when she said jake was loaded.

okay, maybe not loaded loaded, but he’s definitely well off, judging by the outside of his very nice home, perfectly stripe cut grass and shapely shrubbery. there’s even multiple cars here, which you note with a bit of confusion.

you stand and knock at the big, sculpted wooden doors for a minute, before simply trying the knob, which is luckily unlocked.

when you step inside you here distant voices.

deciding to follow the sound, it leads you to a billiard room where you see heeseung, jake and jay playing pool. they’re all stood around while a blonde haired man has his back to you, leaned over as he angles his shot. they still haven’t noticed your presence yet, and you feel incredibly awkward despite being invited to be here.

“um…jake?”

at your voice, all the men turn at once, the blonde man revealing his face to you.

you’re struck with horror as you both stare wide eyed at each other. someone’s speaking but you don’t catch it, everything sounding like it’s under water.

it’s lee felix. aka your ex that you abruptly ghosted after almost a year into your relationship.

“y/n?” felix utters, and it’s like you just breached the water’s surface, a sudden wave of consciousness washing over you as everything comes back into focus.

“y/n, i’m so sorry! i legitimately forgot!” jake says, and you take your opportunity to look at him and away from felix.

“it’s- its okay, i just…um,” you’re about to offer to leave, before heeseung speaks up.

“just stay, y/n. ever played pool?” he smiles sweetly, and the goosebumps that have raised on your skin soothe a little at his comforting expression.

“yeah! we can play cutthroat!” jay exclaims, already going over to the rack to get you a cue.

“she can just use mine.” heeseung stops him, coming to your side and causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach.

“we’ve come close enough to poking someone’s eye out already, i don’t think we need more pointy sticks in the equation.” he laughs.

“okay, but i’m going first, since i was going to win that last game anyways.”

“as if, bro!” jay tries with jake. “i was gonna win!”

as heeseung moves to intervene the two boys and rearrange the balls on the table, at some point felix silently appears by your side, startling you as he softly says “have you played cutthroat before?”

“no,” you answer just as softly as the boys fill in the silence with their bickering. “i don’t even know how to play regular pool.”

felix laughs with a shining smile, and your chest fills with bittersweet nostalgia at the familiar yet almost forgotten memory of the deep timber of felix’s laugh and the crinkle of his nose that often pairs with it.

“don’t worry, cutthroat is actually a pretty good game for your first time despite the name. want me to show you how to hold your cue?”

“is that the stick thing?” you ask, and felix bursts into higher pitched giggles, the warmth of his aura making the tension in your body melt away.

(❤︎)

so much for jake’s place being ‘less distracting’. it’s 9 pm and you don’t think you’re actually going to have a session with jake tonight. but oh well, you’re actually having fun!

after about two hours of playing pool and just hanging out, you ask jake where the bathroom is before walking down the long hallway.

as you’re walking back, coming up to the archway of jake’s living room you all ended up migrating to, you hear heeseung speaking.

“i didn’t know you were tutoring her?”

“yeah,” jake answers with a huffed laugh. “i haven’t actually tutored her yet, and i probably never will.”

your brows furrow as you halt your feet, standing in the hallway silently to listen.

“what do you mean?” another voice asks. you think it’s jay.

“i don’t think she’s really looking to brush up on her algebra, man. she’s a typical dumb cheerleader, she’s probably just over here because she knows i’m friends with the basketball team.”

“dude-“ heeseung starts, but another thicker aussie accent interrupts.

“that’s fucked, man! how can you say that about her?”

there’s a tense few moments of silence, and you’re not sure if you wished you could see what’s happening or glad that you can’t. you blink as moisture starts to build up in your eyes.

“me? what about you? i’m surprised you’re defending her. didn’t she drop you like you meant nothing to her right when your relationship started to get serious?”

you can’t. you can’t listen anymore.

as quiet and quickly as possible, you head back to the bathroom before a watery gasp can expose your presence. a hand is rubbing at your eyes as tears stream down your face when your hands feel the cool metal of the doorknob.

you shut the door behind you and slide down it, onto your butt, crying into your knees that you wrap your arms around.

then you feel something wet swipe up your leg and you flinch, looking up to see a blonde little dog looking at you curiously.

“oh,” you whisper aloud to yourself, trying not to think about how stuffy you sound. “you must be layla, huh?”

the dogs mouth opens up to let her tongue hang out, appearing like she’s giving you a smile as she sits down obediently, tail wagging behind her.

you can’t help but let out a somber little giggle, wiping a tear off your cheek before leaning over to pet her on the head.

“you’re cute.” you smile, letting her soft fur and rhythmic panting calm you down.

a few minutes later the door opens, jake’s head popping in.

“oh, there you are.” he says, watching how layla is spread out on her back in your lap as you pet her belly.

“did you get lost?”

“uh, yeah.” you take the excuse, gently pushing layla off and standing up. “couldn’t find the bathroom.”

“heeseung and felix are about to leave, but they wanted to say bye.” jake explains, and you follow him out the door and to wherever the boys are.

“okay.” you reply, trying to make your voice sound smooth and not like you were just crying.

“hey, jake?”

the aussie looks over at you as you continue walking.

“can we still get a short tutoring sesh in?” you ask innocently on the outside, but inwardly there’s the burn of spite in your lungs. “i know it’s kinda late but i really need it.”

“oh…yeah, sure.” jake answers, looking away from you.

you bite down a salty smirk.

(❤︎)

after going over to jake’s house you turned his texts to mute and haven’t looked ever since.

it’s saturday night, which means football competition. a neighboring team is at your college’s home field to play head to head, and right now, it’s anybody’s game.

you’re in the middle of a cupie stunt right now, your base holding your body up with one hand as you focus on balancing and keeping on a big smile.

once your team’s routine is over you go to sit on the sidelines as the announcer’s voice booms over the speakers.

“hey, i’m gonna go get a gatorade.” chaeryeong taps on your shoulder, pointing at the food vendor who walks up the bleacher steps. “do you want anything?”

you turn to look, which proves to be a mistake as you make direct eye contact with none other than jake sim, who’s staring right at you amongst the crowd (and he looks a little ticked).

you snap your head back straight, letting out a yelped ‘no’. chae luckily doesn’t really pick up on your change of tone with how loud the crowd is, and replies with an ‘okay’ before jogging after the descending vendor.

she comes back a few moments later with her drink and a bag of chips.

“i don’t know how you eat during the games, aren’t you afraid you’ll get sick during a routine?”

“you’re on tiktok too much.” chae replies as she pops open the bag. “stop watching those horrible clips. it’s not very likely to happen at all. and i’m not a flyer like you. even if i puked, it wouldn’t get on anyone.”

“okaay! sorry i brought it up, getting grossed oout!”

chaeryeong laughs, bumping her shoulders with yours.

“hey, tell me about how it went with jake?”

you sigh with a roll of your eyes. “he only taught me for like, an hour.”

“oh!” chae squeals amidst chewing. “perhaps that was because you were too busy falling in love?!”

“oh my god, shut up, chae!”

the girl takes a quick swig of her drink before doing the exact opposite of what you asked. “do you know how many couples start off hating each other? you know, that burning anger you have for him could make for some hot se—“

“chaeryeong!” you gasp and chae laughs at how you sound like a scandalized victorian woman who just saw someone’s ankles. “stop it! that’s never happening.”

“i bet you’d have really good bed chem.” she states like it’s a fact.

“whatever.” you say just as the stadium erupts.

your home team doesn’t win, but your cheer squad goes out on the field to do your last routine anyways. you all go to the locker room to change after, most of your team moving quick to go to some party.

“you not coming, y/n?” your friend asks, chaeryeong also looking at you for your answer.

“i don’t think so, guys. maybe next time.”

eventually everyone walks out, leaving you alone as you set your pom-poms down.

amidst taking off your top, your hair falls into your face, leading you to shake your head as you blindly place your shirt inside your locker. when you open your eyes, you spot jake in your peripheral, staring at you wide eyed like an idiot while holding open the door.

“jake!” you screech, moving to cover your chest with your arms. “what the fuck!”

“i’m- i-i’m sorry, i was just trying to find you-“

“i don’t care, pervert! don’t come in the locker room!”

even with the distance, you can see how jake’s ears turn red. his face morphs from embarrassed panic to mad (and still embarrassed), the boy stomping closer until he’s right in front of you.

“i’m not a pervert, you kept ignoring my texts! we had a deal, you know!”

“well, you pissed me off!”

“me! how did i piss you off?”

“you- you’re…so fucking annoying!” you let out, not even knowing where you’re going with this as you get up in jake’s face.

“you ruined my chances with heeseung and act like an ass all the time!”

“ruined your chances! how did i ruin your chances with hee?” jake asks, and you back down a bit, not wanting to tell jake that you heard what he said that night.

at your silence, jake takes the opportunity to continue. “i mean, yeah. i don’t want you to be with heeseung, but that doesn’t mean i’d meddle—“

“and why don’t you want me to be with heeseung,” you interject, getting closer inch by inch to jake’s face as he stands his ground, giving you the same piercing eyes you challenge him with. “is it because…you think i’ll break his heart?”

you try to ask the question with just as much bite as your previous, hoping your insecurities don’t show through.

jake blanches, slightly taken aback by the directness of your question before he doubles down ten fold, pressing closer to you until your noses almost touch.

“yeah. maybe i do.” he grumbles to admit, breath puffing into your face.

you inhale to scoff, but then your chest brushes up against his, and suddenly you both remember that you’re only in a bra and cheer skirt.

jake glances down, eyes flitting over how your boobs press together when you have your arms angrily crossed, before meeting your gaze again.

the next thing you know, your lips are on his.

you don’t know who leaned in first, all you know is that he tastes like lemonade, tart but sweet enough to leave you wanting more.

his hands immediately go to your breasts, pushing you up against the lockers in his haste as the metal clangs and echos around the room, covering up your soft moan of shock.

your hands naturally move to rest at his stomach, where your surprised to feel the firm divots and raises of abs.

“do you-…do you workout?” you pant after parting from jake’s lips to take a breath. the boy doesn’t bother stopping, trailing his mouth from the corner of yours to down your neck, kissing and mouthing along your bra strap.

“can i take this off?” he asks, ignoring your question. you nod with a quiet little ‘yes’, jake reaching behind you to snap open your bra with one hand.

you try not to be too impressed (and fail), noting to yourself that the rumors must be true and this nerd does indeed fuck.

jake hastily guides your bra down your arms and tosses it to the side, latching his plush lips to your bud as his veiny hands continue to kneed at your breasts.

“oh my god,” you whisper under your breath, fingers moving to run through his hair as you let your head lean back against the locker. jake lets out a breathy groan at the feeling of you on his tongue and how you’re unconsciously giving small tugs to the tufts of his hair.

you whimper and flinch at the ghost of jake’s teeth on your nipple, quite literally feeling the curve of his smile on your skin as he glances up at you, not bothering to detach from your tits as his eyes sparkle with mischief. you let out a sigh as you smirk down at him, giving a now conscious, firm pull to his hair and watching how jake’s eyes shut in the stinging pleasure, a throaty moan escaping him.

“you’re a jerk.”

jake kisses from the swell of your breast and down your stomach in response, as though apologizing. now on his knees, he pauses at the waistband of your skirt. your hands move to take it off before jake stops you, sliding his palms over the material and to your thighs, squeezing at the plushness of them as he moves his head downward.

butterfly kisses are now being pressed up your legs until jake’s face is fully under your skirt. you put a hand over your mouth as you feel jake slowly sliding your panties down, trying to contain a needy moan at his teasing.

“damn, you’re wet.” jake whispers, the breath of his voice tickling your skin and causing your legs to tremble.

“please?” you whine, but only barely, still trying to hold on to some of your dignity.

“please what, pom-poms?” jake asks, and you can hear the smugness in his tone even while his face is hidden.

your eyes roll.

“oh my god, jake. please just shut the fuck up and eat me out!”

“can do.”

that’s all the warning jake gives before burying his face in your pussy, going at it like he’s starved.

you bite down on your lip to keep from crying out, not wanting jake to know just how good his mouth feels. (god knows his ego doesn’t need the boost.) you think you’re doing pretty good at keeping quiet, even when jake flicks your clit with his tongue, you only flinch slightly.

but jake takes notice of your silence, and it’s pissing him off.

so he runs a digit through the wetness of your pussy before pressing the entirety of it into your hole roughly, feeling how tightly your walls clench around him.

“f- fuck!” you startle.

it’s only one finger, but the length of it and the stretch his knuckles provide as he pumps them in and out of you mercilessly is making you come undone quicker than you would have thought.

jake’s making lots of slurping noises as his tongue licks at your leaking hole, nose nuzzling over your pulsing clit.

fuck, this man knows how to eat pussy. and when he presses a second finger inside of you, you know you’ve lost the quiet game. a whine comes from your throat as you squeeze your eyes shut, hips moving in small motions to meet the thrust of jake’s fingers.

he’s growling against you, eyes shut as he seems lost in the taste of you.

it isn’t until your head rolls to the side in pleasure that you notice he’s tugged his pants down just enough for his (to your shock, very big) cock to spring out, jerking himself off furiously as pre cum dribbles from the head.

“are you- fucking serious?” you laugh breathlessly, jake not stoping but opening his eyes to give you a confused glare.

“you’re getting off just from eating my pussy? how many of your hookups know you’re a munch?”

jake’s suddenly pulling his mouth off and fingers out of you with a cold look, but the hand on his cock never slows. if anything, it gets faster.

“if you’re gonna be a brat then i’m not making you cum.”

you’re thrown off, not expecting him to react this way, or how strangely embarrassed yet turned on it makes you feel. something about how angrily jake glares at you while he fists his big cock, even while he’s the one kneeling at your feet, it makes you feel oddly small.

and as much as it pains you to admit, desperate.

“i’m- i’m…sorry?”

jake lets out a humored scoff, shaking his head.

“you’re gonna have to do better than that. beg.”

you grit your teeth as you let out a frustrated sigh, unable to make eye contact as you force yourself to speak.

“please…make me cum.”

jake gives you an utterly unimpressed expression. “or i can just leave-“

“no! please, i- i’m sorry. i’ll be good, i wont be a brat anymore. just please make me cum?”

jake’s lips slowly stretch into a smirk that makes chills run down your spine, watching as his hand returns to his dick to rub over the leaking tip.

you unconsciously lick your lips and swallow.

“you’re gonna be a good girl for me?” he asks darkly.

“y- yes. i’ll be a good girl.”

jake’s diving back in with double the passion, his fingers slipping right back in as he curls them just right inside of you, hurling you towards climax.

“ah, j-jake, please! need- can i?” you pant, hardly able to get a word out as he’s sucking at your clit, giving it special attention.

he hums and you take it as a yes, thighs trembling as you cum all over jake’s chin.

“my turn.” jake growls, standing up and pushing you down to kneel in front of him, barely giving you any time to catch your breath before he’s shoving his dick in your mouth. still, you moan out happily, admittedly dying to have him in your mouth the moment you saw his pretty, pink tip and how big he is.

“that’s it, suck my cock like a good little slut.” jake orders, admiring how hot you look sitting on the floor in your short little cheer skirt. he grabs your hair in two fists, chuckling at how it looks like makeshift pigtails as he pulls on your hair to guide you further down his cock.

you sputter, struggling to take his bulbous tip down your throat but loving it and the stretch your jaw has to make to accommodate him.

he’s literally fucking your face, letting out little groans as he harshly snaps his hips against you.

once he looks down and sees your pretty eyes already looking up at him, it’s over.

jake deeply growls when he presses your face flat against his pelvis, cock shoved deeply down your throat as he pumps out his hot load, forcing you to swallow it all. (not that you wouldn’t have anyway.)

jake pulls you off of him with a wet pop, trying to it to ogle at how you lick his cum off your lips.

tucking himself back inside his pants, you look for your own clothes as jake finds a towel to wipe his hands and face off with, before tossing it in a nearby hamper.

“um,” jake starts, biting his lip as an awkward air takes over between you. “i am actually sorry, about…whatever i did that’s made you feel like i ruined it with heeseung for you.”

“it’s…it’s whatever. i’m sorry too, i kinda lost it.”

jake laughs softly, the sound breaking a little of the tension as he looks up to make direct eye contact. “i think we both did, but it’s okay. maybe we should just call it even?”

“sure,” you smile, combing your hair out of your face, trying to make it look like you didn’t just get eaten out and throat fucked in the locker room. (though you doubt anyone is around at this point, or at least you hope.)

“i’ll come around sometime to walk layla, just shoot me a text…and i really will answer this time.” you joke, jake taking the initiative to grab your cheer bag for you.

“sooo…do you still want me to be your tutor?”

“yeah! i do.” you answer simply, an annoying little voice in the back of your head saying that maybe chaeryeong was right, and you really did just need to fuck the frustration out of each other. even though there wasn’t actually any fucking…

“i still have something i’m wondering though,” you say as the two of you walk out of the locker room, jake letting you lead the way out of the stadium.

“what were you doing at basketball practice? on monday.”

“oh, well, normally heeseung comes with jay to our place and we game or something, after their practice. but i got off early and just decided to drop in.”

“where do you work?” you ask, looking over to jake and watching how he slightly swings your bag side to side as he walks.

“part time at the cafe, in the cafeteria…you haven’t seen me?” he asks jokingly, a faux pout on his lips.

“no.” you play along, answering ‘smugly’ as you lift your chin up, before giggling. “no, i usually have my lunch in the library.”

“oh, toooo…study?”

“i wish. if i spent that time studying i probably wouldn’t need a tutor,“ you admit with a bashful smile. “but usually i’m reading something.”

“oh! what do you like to read?”

“ah,” you whine, covering your face as you let out an embarrassed laugh. usually you’re undisturbed in the library, everyone else is typically there to study, have some alone time, or eat their lunch in a place that’s quiet. you’ve never had anyone ask you what you’re reading.

“it’s…embarrassing. i’m gonna sound boring.”

“what?” jake laughs, turning in front of you and walking backwards so he can fully look at you. “tell me, i’m dying to know now.”

“i mean, usually it’s about animal history-“

“right! biology major.” jake remembers.

“yup.” you nod. “buuut, sometimes i read biographies or like, theories.”

jake’s ears practically perk, but you don’t notice, pushing open a door before jake’s back can run into it.

“oh, thanks.” he says before returning to your side after the close call, deciding he’d rather not possibly fall right in front of you with your heavy cheer bag to land on top of him. “theories? what- what kind of theories?”

“right now i’m reading einstein’s.”

jake looks over to you with widened eyes, surprised because he’s never met anyone else that actually has an interest in stuff like that. he’s tried to rant to jay or heeseung about that kind of stuff, be he can tell they’re just replying on auto pilot, not really listening.

jake wonders how far you’ve read, what all you know. he’s practically tingling with excitement, about to ask you if you know about the team of scientists that disproved one of einstein’s theories when-

“well, i’m gonna get back to my dorm now,”you say just as you reach the campus sidewalk, street lamps lighting the path as dusk turns to darkness.

“i can walk you? it’s pretty late.” jake offers, already moving as though to go with you.

you feel your heart stop, a feeling you can only describe as ‘oh no’ burning a hole into the pit of your stomach.

“jake…earlier…it was just casual, yknow…”

jake stares at you, eyes round and capturing the lights in his dark pupils like stars in the sky. he stills, free hand going inside his pocket while the other still holds your bag.

“not that i’m assuming anything!” you hurry to add. “just thought i’d…clarify.”

“yeah…yeah, i know. i just- i just didn’t think it’d be a big deal to walk you home.”

“it’s not a big deal. that’s why i can do it myself.” you explain as nonchalantly as you can, but on the inside you feel like there’s needles pricking your skin, hairs all standing on end. you’re dying to be out of this situation, anxiety making you feel like prey, wanting to run, run, run.

“right! yeah, of course!”

you smile smoothly, leaning in to take your bag from his hand.

“i’ll see you at our next session, okay?”

“okay.” jake smiles softly, but you don’t look for too long, turning your back too soon, listening to the voice yelling in your head to leave.

you hear jake’s voice behind you as you walk down the paved path, his voice slightly carrying into the night.

“stay safe, pom-poms!”

you laugh, little and quiet to yourself as you whisper.

“jerk.”

(❤︎)

for the next week you’re busier than ever: tutor sessions, cheer practice, competition days, your usual studies and classes, taking layla on walks every now and then when jake is at work.

and yet, you’re thriving.

jake’s ‘hard work on you’— as he put it, is paying off.

you’re at your usual spot that you and jake have your sessions, his house.

the clock strikes 10 pm when you finally call it quits. layla (who’s been switching between sitting on your and jake’s feet from underneath the table) jumps up the second she hears the slam of your notebook and jake getting up to put away his study material.

“what is it, girl?” you laugh, watching the golden furred dog do an excited little wiggle dance in front of you.

she looks from you, to the front door, and back at you again.

“jake, i think she wants to go outside.”

uh-oh. you said her buzzword.

at the mention of ‘outside’, layla becomes twice as restless, whining and pawing at the front door with her claws.

“layla, no,” jake stops her, pulling her away from the door before she can scratch the wood.

“are you gonna take her?” you ask, jake turning his head to you as he continues to pat and scratch layla’s back, trying to sedate her.

“maybe just for a little bit, once you go home.”

“…i’ll go with you.” you offer, jake’s brows raising slightly in surprise.

“you don’t have to, y/n. i know we have a ‘deal’ but i don’t actually care if you-“

“i want to.” you shrug.

“you do?”

“yeah?”

“aren’t you tired?” jake asks, standing up and tilting his head at you.

you tilt yours back at him, a teasing smirk on your face. “i’m not. are you?”

jake takes one look at your smirk and falls into your trap, so easily persuaded by even the notion of a challenge. grabbing layla’s leash out of a nearby drawer in the kitchen, he hooks it onto layla’s collar and puts on his slides.

“lets go.” he smiles, you laughing at how his accent really pops out when he says the word ‘go’.

“what’s so funny?” he giggles with you despite not knowing why, watching as you hurriedly slip the shoes closest to you— which happen to be jake’s crocs that he never wears. they’re way too big, you putting them in ‘sport mode’ to try and combat the obvious size issue.

it doesn’t work. but despite that, they stay on.

“you look like a garden gnome,” jake laughs, letting you playfully slap him on the shoulder and watching how you bolt out the door a second later with a screech, like a kid playing tag.

“don’t run in them!! poms, you’re going to fall!” he yells, quickly grabbing a coat off the hook for you in case you get cold before he and layla hurry out the door and after you.

you walk around for about 15 minutes, eventually coming upon a gas station.

“…you hungry?”

you end up being the one to go inside the gas station while jake stays outside with layla, since dogs aren’t allowed in. he watches you closely the entire time though, staring at you while he stands right at the glass door entrance.

“i’m a big girl, you know.” you laugh once you walk back out, jake holding the door open for you. “im not gonna die if you’re not there to watch me.”

“i know, but gas stations at night just kinda freak me out.” jake whines, taking the plastic bag from your hands while you hold the two cups of hot ramen. you go and sit at a nearby bench that’s right beneath a window, the glow of the gas station’s light’s shining a light on the area around you.

“did you make it how i told you?” jake sing-songs as he ties layla’s leash to the bench’s leg, the dog taking the time to enjoy the break as she lays by his feet obediently.

“yes, i followed your obscenely specific instructions down to the very detail to make you the perfect ramen, jake.” you roll your eyes in faux annoyance, handing the cup of ramen to him, as well as a plastic fork.

“thank you.” he smiles coyly, taking the container from you.

“you’re welcome, princess.” you sigh jokingly.

you take a few bites of your ramen before speaking up again, as jake seems completely content to wordlessly munch on his food.

“so what are you and the boy’s gonna do this weekend?”

“mmm,” jake hums, swallowing before continuing. “i think we’re going over to felix’s.”

“oh.” you reply, picking up your drink to take a sip a second later.

even though it was chill when you last saw felix, you still feel a little awkward when his name comes up…or maybe it’s guilt you’re feeling.

“what’s up with that?” jake asks, looking at how your body language has changed to uncomfortable.

“what’s up with what?”

“…all of it, i guess.” jake specifies, and he sounds serious. like he really wants to know your history with felix.

you exhale and hope it doesn’t sound shaky, giving yourself a moment to take another bite of your food as you gather your thoughts. usually you might say ‘i don’t want to talk about it’ or ‘i don’t know’, but after hearing what jake said that first time you were over at your house…you want him to hear your side. even though your side doesn’t really excuse what you did.

“we…i liked him, freshman year. and he didn’t at first, but then he came around and eventually asked me out. and…he was honestly really great, he was a wonderful partner and i…really, really liked him.”

“so then…why? why’d you…”

“drop him?” you finish jake’s trailed of sentence for him.

he nods.

“i just…” you pause, looking down at your shoes and twisting the soles of them into the concrete. your heart wanes in realization that you’re about to talk about it. “sometimes i get really scared when- someone…cares about me? i don’t know. i don’t know how to describe it.”

“why does someone caring for you scare you?”

“i’m not sure. feeling…pressure? to be perfect, to keep them from leaving? or…scared of having someone that i care for so much, because…that means they could really hurt me.”

“when did that start?” jake asks softly, voice free of judgement, even pity— you think. just a gentle desire to understand.

“oh, i don’t know.” you laugh, though there’s no real humor behind it. you look down at layla and the way the light hits her fur, turning the tips a flaming gold. “parent stuff, friend stuff…i had a really shitty ex in high school.”

jake barks out a short laugh. “same, i think it’s a part of the teenage experience.”

“trauma builds character.” you say matter-of-factly, jake giggling as you can’t help but join him.

“i am sorry though, about what happened to you and that it’s made you feel this way. you didn’t deserve that.”

you bite your lip, staring at each other as your stomach twists from the soft timber of his voice and the gentleness of his words.

you look away.

“i know what i did to him was wrong. it doesn’t excuse it….”

“…no.” jake confirms. “but it does make sense. and it’s good that you know what the problem is now.”

“yeah,” you agree with a small smile, heart still heavy, but at the same time you do feel a bit better after talking about it.

“and i have gotten better. i still get scared, and sometimes i have unconscious bad habits, but i’ve gotten better at…telling my brain to shut up, when i realize.” you struggle to explain, but jake nods his head like he gets it.

your arms shiver slightly, from the cool night air or the adrenaline rush after voicing your feelings— you’re not sure.

jake unties the jacket from around his waist and lays it over your shoulders, but your goosebumps remain.

(❤︎)

as you walk into physics class you take a small glance at jake, offering a quick smile as you pass by him at his usual spot in front row before you go and sit down towards the middle.

there’s already someone sitting to your right, so you’re about to sit your bag on the left seat for chae (who’s apparently running late) when jake abruptly appears and takes the spot.

you’re staring at him with a confused ‘what the fuck’ face as he finishes opening his backpack and placing his things down, putting on his glasses so he can see the professor and their material from far away before turning to smile at you.

“hi,” he whispers.

you try to change your expression to a more casual one, seeing that he for some reason decided to change his usual seating arrangements to sit next to you, and that seems to be his only prerogative.

“hey…” you whisper back, turning to face the front after.

the professor begins the class, but you can’t focus. jake keeps trying to help you, leaning close to add on to what the professor is saying, then he notices the eraser on your pencil is almost gone and gives you a new one. but worst of all, when you tilt your head to write something down, hair cascading like a curtain over your face, jake gently moves to tuck your hair behind your ear, smiling sweetly at you when you glance at him.

you’re not confused anymore. you think you know exactly what’s going on and you’re…you don’t know what to do. everything suddenly feels like it’s spiraling into a mess and you desperately want to feel like you’re in control of it again.

so you cross your legs and lean in jake’s direction, taking it slow and simply brushing up against his pant leg.

jake’s eyes look down but quickly move back up to the front of the class, maybe assuming it’s on accident, though his expression does look slightly frazzled.

you want to mess him up more.

thankful for the table that’s about to cover your sins, you place your hand right above jake’s knee.

he fully acknowledges you now, snapping his head to give you a confused look, trying and failing to hide how flustered he is thanks to his blushing ears.

you tilt your head to indicate confusion, your ‘innocent’ act not fooling him at all as you creep your hand farther up his leg, to the meatier part of his thigh. the higher you go, the pinker his cheeks grow, looking more and more adorable.

you feel like a predator that’s caught her prey when you squeeze and his body jerks, hair falling into his eyes before he shakes it away and adjusts his glasses.

you feel like your pupils dilate at the action, watching jake sitting there and not even telling you to stop, letting you touch him in class where anyone could catch you. he’s dressed like the smart boy he is today, his polo shirt and kaki pants paired with oval framed glasses almost giving a nerdy virgin vibe. it makes you really wet, especially since you’re so close to his cock, which you never got to touch with your hands.

a bulge is starting to grow in his pants and you let your fingers barely graze over it as you start massaging his thigh.

“y-y/n?” he speaks so softly you would miss it if it weren’t for how close you sit together.

“hm?”

you glance up at him casually, like you’re fingers aren’t narrowly avoiding his cock right now, and it’s driving him crazy.

it’s making him desperate.

you’re in the middle of class and yet he’s dying for you to just touch his dick already.

he’s debating between if he should ask or not when you finally put your whole hand over his bulge. he stops a whine from bubbling up his throat as your touch is still feather light, not even giving him the grace of more pressure. pushing his hips up into your palm, you pull away, bringing your hands back into your lap and attention back on the professor.

“what? b- baby-“

“what, nerd?” you say with a little bite, and the name has jake twitching in his pants.

“pl- please? can you keep…touching me?”

“we’re in class, jake.” you say, pretending to be mildly annoyed, as if you weren’t the one who started all this.

a tiny noise escapes from jake’s throat, squeezing his eyes shut as he clenches his thighs, trying to relieve the pulsing of his own dick as blood rushes down south.

“jake!” you scold with a harsh whisper, genuinely surprised by how shameless he’s getting.

“please, y/n.” he struggles out, voice whiney. “i need you.”

your breath turns shakey, the facade of being unaffected crumbling as you feel yourself getting more and more turned on. granting him mercy, you bring your hand back down to fully grope his bulge, eyes growing wide as you’re reminded of how big he is.

“fuck.” you sigh, jake giving a twitchy thrust at your voice.

“dirty boy.” is all you say before facing the class again, really trying not to get caught now as your touches turn into you basically jacking him off over his pants.

jake humps into your hand as subtly as he can, almost missing how the professor’s asking him a question if it weren’t for how you pinch his thigh to break him out of it.

“w-what?” jake asks, sounding far from intelligent.

“i said, what is the speed of darkness, mr. sim.”

“oh- um,”

your hand goes right back to jacking him off, stopping at the tip of his dick to massage over it. jake swallows down a cry.

“i expected this to be easy, especially for you, mr. sim.”

“it- it has none.” he croaks out, voice almost raising in his efforts to avoid his building orgasm, the panic almost making him reach that point faster. “darkness is the absence of light, so it doesn’t h- have any speed.”

“correct! dark is simply the absence of photons which means-“

“i’m gonna cum.” jake says as quietly as possible, leaning back in his chair and pushing his face into the side of your arm, hiding his face. “y/n, m’gonna!”

you stop your hand and push him off of you, sitting up straighter as you whisper “after class”, leaving jake trembling in his chair, panting under his breath and too desperate to argue.

it feels like an eternity has passed when class ends, you getting up immediately and jake rushing to follow you. you lead him out into the hallway, hurrying up and opening a closet door before the crowds of other students fill the halls. jake practically moans when you grab him by the shirt and shove him inside, shutting the door behind you. it’s dark as you feel for the light switch, unable to find it.

“fuck, where’s the lights?”

you hear a click and the small closet is dimly illuminated, jake standing right in front of you with wide, shiny eyes, holding a string that’s connected to the one lightbulb that lights the space, which you now can see is a janitor’s closet.

“oh, thank you.” you say normally, like your panties aren’t soaking wet, before pushing him against the wall, almost knocking over a mop bucket as you intensely make out with jake.

the boy lets you swallow down his long moan of relief, needy hands grasping at your hips and already trying to rut against your leg.

“you really that desperate? can’t help but hump your big cock against me?”

jake whimpers, looking at you with big, pretty brown eyes as he wordlessly begs you.

“maybe you aren’t that smart of a nerd. can’t even talk? does your dick getting some attention make you that dumb?”

“yes! yes, yes, m’ so dumb. so stupid for you. please make me cum? it hurts, baby, please?”

“fuck me.” you order. “then you can cum.”

jake takes a second to process your words before he’s stripping himself bare.

“can- can you take off everything, please? wanna feel all of you.” he asks adorably, and you grant him his wish, albeit— you have to tease him. you peel off your clothes so slowly, jake watching every inch of your skin being revealed like he’s never seen a woman’s body before, hands clenching at his sides with the need to touch you.

“please, please, please.” he chants under his breath, almost to himself unconsciously.

“c’mere, jakey.” you coo, him hugging himself up to you a millisecond later.

he’s whimpering and slobbering into your neck as he attempts to give you kisses in his messy state of mind. you start to giggle until his cock catches at the entrance of your pussy and causes you to let out a whine, jake getting more excited (if it’s possible) after feeling how wet you are for him.

“y/n, please.” he blubbers, resting his forehead against yours.

“you can go inside, baby. fuck me, touch me. i don’t care anymore, just give me your cock.”

jake slowly pushes himself inside, the both of you moaning in relief before jake starts fucking into you slowly.

his face is sweating, glasses sliding down his nose bridge as he tries to give you time to adjust fully to his length. you’re so tight, looking so pretty while your eyes are squeezed shut, head leaning back against the wall as you’re stretched out around his dick. jake peppers little kisses all over the exposed expanse of your neck, you letting out happy little noises at his careful care and the feeling of him inside you.

“you okay, babygirl?”

“yeah, jakey. you can go deeper.”

slowly, jake pushes in as far as he can go, hips flush against yours. his cock is long, reaching places that haven’t been reached in a long time, but still…

“no,” you tremble, knowing it can be even better. “hold on.”

pushing his chest off of you a little to give more space, you lift your right leg and hook it around his shoulder, your other still firmly on the ground.

“okay, keep going.” you almost beg, desperate to be fucked into the wall.

“holy shit…” jake marvels, thrusting as deeply into you as he possibly can go, the new angle making his tip press into your cervix.

“oh my god!” he almost growls as his control slips from his grasp, hips gaining speed as he starts to pound into you. the rough quality of his previously sweet tone has you clenching, making him lose it even more. “you’re so fucking flexible.”

“m- m’a cheerleader.” is all you can manage to get out and explain when jake is fucking you so hard, making you feel so good. the slapping noises of jake’s thrusts and your wet pussy isn’t quiet, but you’re too cock drunk to worry about it, and jake is too lost in the way your needy cunt takes him so well.

“damn right, you are, baby.”

forcing your eyes to focus an jake’s intense gaze as he watches every one of your minute expressions, you see how his glasses rest lop sided on his face, releasing the grip you have on jake’s strong shoulders to fix them.

there’s a shift in jake’s eyes after you do this, and you’re beginning to feel as though he’s looking right through your skin and into your soul. then jake’s big hands wrap tightly around your back, stretching your leg further as you’re pressed flush against him and the wall. his rhythm turns erratic as your moans get louder, the hot air in the small space too thick for you to catch your breath.

“sweet girl, with an even sweeter little cunt, yeah?” he drawls, accent turning thicker as he licks into your mouth and presses sloppy kisses onto your lips in between words. “taking my cock like a champ, baby. taking me like a good girl.”

“please, jake. need to cum.” you cry weakly, looking up at him with glassy eyes.

“cum for me, sweetheart. make me all messy.”

you obey his words with a muffled cry as he cradles your head into his neck, trying to make sure no one hears your sounds of pleasure.

he tries his best to hold on long enough to fuck you through your high before he pulls out, fisting his own cock.

you don’t want to miss it, falling on your weak knees and opening your mouth to stick out your tongue, looking up at him and begging with your eyes for him to give it to you.

jake can’t even speak as his hands moves in a blur, the only cognitive thought in his mind how pretty you look kneeling for him, begging for his cum, before he’s unloading into your mouth.

you take it all, swallowing and leaning forward to suck on his tip like a lollipop after, licking him clean.

once jake is able to get himself together and your legs feel a little less like jello, who helps you stand and get dressed.

you laugh once you’re both fully clothed, watching jake clean his glasses lens with his shirt.

“what?” jake smiles tiredly, straightening his polo. “do i look normal?” and like we didn’t just fuck in the janitor’s closet?

“no,” you giggle, shaking your head as you reach up to comb through his very tousled hair. “okay, that’s better.”

“thank you.” jake smiles tenderly, making that funny feeling in your stomach present again before he presses a quick kiss to your lips. “i’ll text you, baby.”

“o-….okay…” you mumble, jake giggling as he thinks your dazed look is just because you’re still a little fucked dumb.

“you want me to slip out first?”

“um, yeah.” you answer, watching jake peek out the door before flashing you one more sweet smile before he’s out, shutting the door behind him.

you don’t know what you’re going to do.

(❤︎)

“dude, just ask her out already.” jay says as he lays down to spread out on jake’s bed like a star fish.

“i am!” jake insists, accepting that he’s probably not going to get anymore studying done when jay’s in his bedroom yapping away. shutting his laptop, jake swivels his desk chair around and quirks a brow at how jay lays on his bed like he owns it.

“then do it! what are you waiting for?”

“i just don’t want to overwhelm her, i think if i move too fast it’ll scare her. but…i think I’m gonna ask her tonight.”

jay sits up on his elbows. “you’re inviting her?” he asks, referring to the game night the boys were planning to have with heeseung at their place.

“yeah. i’ve already asked her, she says she can come after some cheer event she’s doing today.”

“wow…” jay sighs, now looking a little surprised as he processes.

“what?”

“i can’t believe you got a cheerleader girlfriend before me or heeseung.”

jake starts to be offended before he smirks, standing up from his chair and combing his hair out of his face.

“that’s because i’m sexy and smart. now take the L and help me clean up before she gets here.”

(❤︎)

it’s 8:00 pm when you finally get to jake and jay’s house, jake waiting for you by the door.

“hi, how was the event?”

“it was good. they had us outside all day but the weather wasn’t too warm.”

“good!” jake smiles as he opens the door for you and leads you to the living room. “ready to beat these guys in a game with me?”

“i really suck at video games, jake.” you laugh just as you walk into the room, seeing jay and heeseung sitting at the sofa.

jake sees heeseung’s eyes light up when he sees you, and jake feels a bit annoyed— then guilty. heeseung doesn’t know about you and jake, the australian not having time to tell him about your ‘thing’ before you showed up.

“hey, y/n! come sit.” jay invites.

you move to sit down on the couch, the only space available being next to heeseung. jake sits against your legs, his cuddly nature making you blush and feel a little self conscious while in front of everyone else, moving your legs to criss-cross them on the cushion instead.

something about being at their house with heeseung over again, in this room, makes you think about what you’ve been trying not to this entire time: what jake said.

do they all think you’re a player?

do they know about you and jake’s hookups?

if the answer is yes, then they probably also think you’re just with jake to get in his pants, to chew him up and spit him out.

but what do you really want?…and what…what does jake want?

you’ve felt off since the classroom incident, and you thought maybe hanging out casually would make you feel better, but it seems to only be making it worse.

“y/n?”

heeseung concerned voice snaps you out of your head and you look at him. he’s holding out a gaming controller for you, and you take it, the object feeling a bit big in your hands.

“here,” jake offers gently, turning around from his place on the floor as he positions your hands over the controller. “it’ll probably be easier for you to hold it like this.”

“thanks.” you say unconsciously soft, probably because of the proximity between you and jake’s faces.

he smiles that cute smile at you again, the one that makes his eyes sparkle, and you feel legitimately sick.

“do you want me to explain the game to you?” heeseung offers.

“i can,” jake starts to interrupt, but you stop him as you gesture for him to sit back down.

“it’s fine, jake. hee’s right here.”

you hope the excuse of heeseung sitting right next to you is a good enough excuse for why you don’t want jake coddling over you. you just…you can’t think clearly with him near right now.

once you start the multi player game and you go for a few rounds, heeseung starts getting kinda touchy with you. first letting his thighs touch yours, which is probably unconscious. the sofa is rather squishy and deep, it’s easy to sink into it— and thus, you. but then he starts smiling at you a lot and praising you whenever you do something right. you try not to encourage heeseung’s treatment while also ignoring how jake keeps turning to take peeks at you together.

very unexpectedly, you find a few advantage items and end up winning a round, heeseung throwing up his arms in excitement while jay loudly cheers.

“that was awesome, y/n!” heeseung says before wrapping you in an unexpected hug. you smile proudly at yourself, returning his quick hug.

“y/n and i will go get some drinks.” jake abruptly announces in a low tone before grabbing your arm and pulling you away from heeseung.

“jake. jake! why are you pulling me?” you say as he continues down the hall, not looking or speaking to you until you get to the kitchen.

“what was that?” he asks demandingly after spinning around to face you, eyes hard and looking at you angrily.

“what was what?”

“you and heeseung!”

“there is no me and heeseung, jake.” you sigh, rubbing your temples as you feel a headache coming on. this whole evening has honestly been nothing but stressful, and you’re starting to regret coming.

“well it sure looked like you were a thing…i thought we…”

he trails off and your heart full on stops, eyes wide as you stare at jake.

“you thought…what?” you ask, scared out of your mind.

“i like you.” jake says softly, looking up from the floor to gaze at you with hopeful eyes. “and i think…i think you like me too, right?”

you take a few deep breaths, brows furrowing as panic and fear take over the rational part of your brain.

“you sure you want to like the ‘typical dumb cheerleader’?” you air quote, jake’s face falling as your eyes already start to sting.

“oh my god, you heard that? baby, i’m so, so sorry. i-…i don’t think that now, i was being an asshole.”

despite how hard you try to keep them at bay, to blink them back, to keep the angry facade up— you can’t. your walls finally crumble down as you cry into your hands, letting the ache that’s been slowly growing in your heart over these past few weeks take over your whole chest.

“you- you don’t still think i’m a h- heartbr- break-“

you can’t even get a full sentence out between your crying and gasps of air, jake coming closer with open arms to wrap you in a hug, to squeeze you against his warm chest.

“no, no, no. sweet girl, oh my god.” he says almost like it’s to himself, before he’s culling your damp cheeks.

“c’mon, baby. look at me?” he coos sadly, and you do, putting aside your shame and lifting your face, watching his regretful eyes flit over your teary orbs and broken expression.

“i am so sorry that the harsh, untruthful words i said hurt you so badly, and i’m so sorry it’s taken me this long to apologize. i was legitimately an asshole to you and you didn’t deserve it. i had you pinned down in my head of who i thought you were and i treated you differently because of it, when i didn’t even bother getting to know you. and i’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

jake tries to wipe away the tears that slip down your cheeks as you try to calm down, still hurt but feeling better after his words.

“you- you don’t think i’m a bad person? because- because i honestly wouldn’t blame you if you did.” you dare to ask.

“no!” jake states firmly. “no, baby. you’re not and i don’t think that. i think you’re kind and generous. hardworking and smart. beautiful and funny and so, so easy to fall for.”

“jake…” you whisper, cheeks burning as you attempt to hide you face in his chest. but jake doesn’t let you, cupping your jaw in his palms as he nuzzles his nose against yours.

“do you like me, poms?” he whispers nervously, breath fanning over your lips as you feel like you’re about to drown from the depth of emotions he manages to hold in his eyes.

“i…i do, jake. i really, really like you.”

jake smiles, teeth biting at his bottom lip to try and contain it.

“but,” you’re quick to say when jake starts to lean in, halting his actions. “i…i need time…to think. i…”

“it’s okay, y/n. you don’t have to explain it to me. i’ll wait for you.” jake whispers, staring forlornly at your lips, but not moving. “even if you tell me not to, i’d still wait for you.”

your heart skips a beat and you pull away, afraid you’ll lose your resolve and dive into his kiss if you don’t.

“okay. i’ll…i’ll see you, jake.”

“see you, y/n.” jake smiles, but despite trying his best, it doesn’t make it to his eyes. you walk out of the kitchen before fleeing from his house, speeding to your dorm and collapsing onto your bed and bursting into sobs.

(❤︎)

3 days.

3 days, going on four, since you’ve spoken to jake. you know he’s trying really hard not to overwhelm you, to resist coming over and talking to you, but you still catch staring at you in class when he thinks you don’t notice.

you do.

you notice him, always.

you want to go to him, you miss him so much. but it’s feels like there’s chains of fear wrapped around your heart, weighing you down and tugging you away from him.

you’re walking across campus in the afternoon to go back to your dorm, feeling like a zombie like you have been since you last spoke to jake.

you run into something with stops your lazy, slow steps, looking up to see felix staring wide at you.

“oh, y/n! hey!”

“h-hi! sorry, lix.” you apologize for running into him, trying to sound at least half as chipper as him.

“that’s alright. so, jay told me about you and jake,” he implores in a teasing way, nudging your arm with his elbow as he smiles. “how’s that going?”

it takes you a few seconds to feel the pain in your heart at simply hearing his name before you start crying, felix almost flinching back in surprise as you try to wipe your tears away as quickly as they come.

“i’m- i’m so sorry, felix. i’m a mess right now.”

“hey, hey, it’s okay, y/n. why don’t we sit down and you can tell me about it.”

felix wraps a comforting arm around your shoulder and leads you to sit down at a nearby bench. taking a gentle hold of your hand, he encourages you to tell him what happened.

and you do, you tell him everything. from the very beginning to the very end.

“i just- i don’t know what to do, felix. i like him so much it scares me. i’ve never let- let somebody get this close to me this fast before.” you sniffle. “and i just- i can’t stop thinking about how much it would hurt this time, because- because i think if i let myself be with him, i’ll never want to leave.”

“oh, y/n.” felix sighs, pulling you in for a hug. “don’t you see? jake is an amazing guy, and you like him. which isn’t a reason to leave, it’s a reason to stay, to keep going and not give up. don’t you get it?”

he asks, looking you in the eyes as you feel his words click something into place in your brain. it isn’t a reason to leave, it’s why you should stay.

“don’t give him up, y/n.” felix urges softly. your heart squeezes with undeniable fondness, reaching forward to wrap the boy in a tight hug of your own.

“you’re right. thank you, felix.”

“it’s okay, y/n. go get your man.” he smiles genuinely.

“and felix?” you begin as you pull away to look him in the eyes.

“yeah?”

“i’m sorry, lixie.” you apologize, and he knows what for.

“i know, y/n.” felix’s voice wavers at the unexpected sentiment, but his sunshine disposition still remains. “i’m happy now. we’re okay. all is forgiven.”

you know it’s not a good enough apology despite his words, but you’ll find another time to properly say sorry, to give him the apology he deserves. but for now, you give him one more tight squeeze before running off to find jake.

he’s not working at the cafe today, all his classes are usually over by now and there’s no basketball practice for him to tag along to, so the only other place you can think to go look is his house.

when you messily park in the driveway and knock at the door, it’s a bewildered jay that answers.

“oh, y/n! he’s- jake’s walking layla right now.”

“do you know which direction he went?”

jay points and you take off down his neighborhood sidewalk, jay watching you disappear around a corner with his jaw slightly open in confusion, finger still raised, before he shrugs his shoulders and goes back inside with a mumbled little ‘whatever’ to himself.

your running turned to jogging, and now you’re sluggishly walking, your exhaustion and the sight of the sun setting making you lose hope as you stare down at your own feet that lazily step on the pavement.

what if jake doesn’t even want you anymore? did you already mess it up?

an echoed voice carries down the street and you lift your head, the tone of it sounding familiar. turning the corner one more time, your heart feels like it’s been brought back to life when you see jake and layla in the distance.

jake crouches in front of layla, the dog looking bored and tiredly panting as he raises his hand to scratch behind her ears, giving her a sad little smile.

“sorry, girl…i know. i miss her too.”

something tugs you forward, those heavy chains that were previously around your heart broken and unable to hold you back anymore.

“jake!” you call, jake looking up to your approaching figure.

“y/n?”

your slow steps turn to running when jake opens his arms, practically catching you with how you leap into his embrace.

“y/n?” he repeats, looking deep into your eyes like he can’t believe he’s feeling your smaller body in his arms right now, seeing you so up close again.

you wrap your arms around his neck and crash your lips into his, jake immediately kissing you back with just as much fever. your tongues lick into each other’s mouth like you haven’t tasted the other in ages, jake raising a hand to cup your cheek and press you impossible closer.

“jake,” you gasp in air after fighting to part from jake’s eager lips.

“sweetheart.” jake practically coos, eyes half-lidded and sounding love drunk as he spares you only a moment before he’s kissing you again.

“jake!” you pull away again, your attempt to sound scolding failing due to your little giggles that give your true emotions away. but how can you not when jake’s ticklish butterfly kisses are being peppered across your neck.

“let me talk!”

“hurry.” jake whines, pressing to more pecks to your lips.

“i- i wanna stay! i want to be with you.”

“i wanna be with you too, babygirl.” jake whispers fondly, staring into your eyes and how they capture the sunset’s shining rays. it’s the prettiest sunset he’s ever seen, viewing it in this way. “does this mean you’ll be mine?”

“i think i’ve been yours for a while already, jakey.”

jake’s like a kid at a candy store with your lips right in front of him. you’re unable to enjoy his absolutely gorgeous smile from your words for more than a second before his lips are attached to yours again, capturing you in another passionate kiss.

you whine into it, pushing at his chest much to jake’s displeasure.

“but i’m probably still gonna get scared sometimes.”

“i know, baby.”

a kiss.

“and- and i’m good at communicating but-“

another.

“sometimes i need encouragement.”

“i can do that, sweetheart.” he promises with another deep kiss. you push him away again.

“but, jake?”

he smiles with a defeated groan, leaning his head onto your shoulder before he looks at you.

“yeah, sweetie?”

“what if i…did try? to run away again.” you ask, not because you think you will, but because you want to know his answer.

he answers easily, like it’s a no brainer for him.

“then i’d chase after you every time.”

“…promise?”

“i promise.”

(❤︎)

jake doesn’t even take layla’s leash off when you bust through the front door, barely taking the time to shut it behind him before he’s picking you up, giggling at your adorable squeal and how your legs wrap around his waist without thinking.

you don’t even stop kissing as he blindly carries and maneuvers you around the house, feeling for his bedroom door knob with his one hand and opening it successfully.

he walks forward until he feels the frame of his bed against his shins and sets you down gently, finally detaching from your lips to gaze at you and how gorgeous you look laying in his bed, staring up at him with so much cb affection in your eyes that it has his cock twitching.

“what?” you smile, feeling a little squirmy under his gaze, but you remain still.

“nothing…you’re just so beautiful.”

your cheeks burn, biting at your smile as you move to take off your clothes. jake rushes to do the same, though it takes him a little longer as he has to stop every few moments to watch you strip.

you rub your thighs together with a moan as you see jake’s throbbing length, it’s pretty pink tip shining with his excitement.

“oh my god, baby. i don’t wanna go a day without you ever again. seeing you, talking to you, kissing you, fucking you. shit, m’gonna make you take my cock every day from now on.”

“please, jake, just put it in.” you whine, spreading open your legs and causing jake’s eyes to almost pop out of his skull.

“damn, baby.” he marvels, kneeling up on the bed as he comes closer to you, caressing his hands up and down your thighs as he stares at your pussy.

“jaaake, fuck me!”

“be patient, babygirl.” he warns with a small yet stinging slap to your thigh. “i will. but i gotta taste you first.”

he makes a spot for himself between your legs, laying on his belly before spreading open your pussy with his two, long fingers. clear slick webs between, jake shuddering out a heated ‘fuck’ before going in to lick it up with his tongue.

“oh god,” you whimper, raising your hands to your face, embarrassed by how wet you already are and how jake’s slurping every bit of it into his mouth.

“mmm,” jake hums disapprovingly, departing from your pussy only for a moment. “dont don’t do that. wanna watch my baby’s face while i eat her out.”

then jake goes back down to slowly push his tongue inside your entrance, your thighs twitching with the unexpected intrusion.

“j-jake!” you cry as he falls into a rhythm, rubbing your sopping clit while he fucks you with his tongue, big brown eyes staring you down as you find yourself unable to look away.

“o- oh, ffuck!”

your hands grip up the sheets into a fist, toes curling as jake’s incessant licking into your cunt and the perfect little circles he rubs into your clit makes you come more and more undone.

jake groans in pleasure at your own, the sound sending vibrations straight to your core and causing your entire body to flinch as you cry out.

“i- i think m’gonna cum already if you don’t stop, jake.” you whine, voice high pitched and unlike yourself.

the boy doesn’t stop. in fact, he goes deeper, curling the tip of his tongue into the spongy part of you.

you cum with a cry, legs trembling and squeezing around jake’s head as he happily cleans you up with his mouth.

“mmm, such a messy cunt, baby. taste so good.” jake sighs as he repositions to hover over you body, one hand stroking over his dick as he spreads your left over juices from his fingers across it.

he reaches across to his night stand, you presume to get out a condom.

“don’t. want- want you to fuck me raw, please? m’on the pill.”

“…holy shit.” jake murmurs, wide eyed.

he leans on his elbows, dipping closer to your face as you watch how his eyes roam over your every feature, taking in your beauty in the same way as you’re taking in his right now.

“my pretty girl, my good girl...” he gives you that smile that used to make you sick, but now it has butterflies in your stomach and your pussy clenching.

“mine.” jake whispers proudly, rubbing his nose against yours as he pushes inside of you slowly.

“how-“ you struggle, interrupted by your and jake’s moans as his dick is sucked in by your greedy cunt. “how do you talk so sweet when- when you’re doing bad things?”

jake just responds with an out of breath chuckle, bracing himself with a hand to your hip, groping and squeezing at your soft flesh.

as he starts thrusting into you, deep and slow, you feel like all the air has been knocked out of you.

you don’t know why, maybe it’s the angle or how he’s looking at you, maybe it’s because you just came or the emotional high of being reunited. all you know is that it only takes a few minutes for you to be trembling and whimpering into jake’s sheets as he fucks you dumb.

jake’s latched onto your tits— of course, moaning and whining as he slobbers all over your chest like your nipples taste like candy. and they might as well be, because to jake they’re that good.

“mmm, jakey, please. please. m’so close.”

jake is no better off than you, sweat glistening on his skin and his hips start to erratically buck into yours, his pants and your whimpers filling his bedroom.

“yeah, baby? my cock make you feel good?”

“y- yes!”

“y’gonna let me have this cunt every day, sweetheart? take my cum every day?”

“yes, baby, yes!” you either against the sheets, twisting your head to the side from the overwhelming pleasure as you try to hold back your oncoming orgasm, waiting for his permission. “gotta cum, jakey.”

“no, no, sweetie. gotta look at me first, babygirl.” he gently orders in a way that makes your stomach flip, holding your chin between his thumb and fingers before turning your head back to look at him. he brushes your hair out of your face, greeted with your glossy eyes and pouty lips, begging for him to have mercy.

“there she is. there’s my little girl.” he trembles out, biting his bottom lip and forcing his eyes to stay open and look at you, even as the pleasure gets too much. “look so cute while you’re falling apart on my cock.”

“pl-please…jake! need- need’ta-“

“let go, sweetheart. cum with me, baby.”

jake seals your lips with a kiss to suppress the cry you let out as you reach your highs together, trembling bodies holding out for as long as you can to ride out your orgasm.

jake collapses on the bed and cuddles you into his chest, hands brushing through your hair and making sure none of it is in your face.

jake’s phone dings with a text, and he leans over to pick it up. you watch his pretty, brown eyes as he reads the screen, before his lips quirk up in a smirk.

“what?” you ask.

“jay…he‘a asking if we’re done fucking yet.”

“oh my god!” you whine with embarrassment, burying your face into jake’s chest even further as he giggles.

“it’s okay. he said he figured he should put on some noise canceling headphones and make himself scarce when you came by looking for me.”

“still embarrassing…” you mumble, jake cupping your face to lift your head up and press a kiss to your forehead, then your lips.

“m’so glad you found me.” he confesses softly. you smile.

“i think we found each other.”

“mmm,” jake hums, resting his forehead against yours, looking at you like he can’t get enough of you. you’re sure you look the same.

“never gonna be able to go without my dumb little cheerleader girlfriend again.” he smiles teasingly, referencing to his previous harsh words he said about you.

it’s so funny how things can change when you really get to know someone. when you give them a chance.

“and i’m never gonna be able to go without my nerdy little boyfriend again.”

“hey,” he laughs, no real feelings other than happiness behind it. jake sits up on his elbows, caging you in to press a sweet, long kiss to your lips.

he pulls away just enough to be able to look into your eyes as he whispers.

“that was mean, pom-poms.”

you huff, shaking your head with a smile as your hands move to run through his hair, pulling him in for probably the hundredth and definitely not last kiss of the night.

“jerk.”

note) wow, you made it through! i really hope you enjoyed reading my baby 😭

i tried to make reader a lovable character with layers that some might find relatable/comforting, and that she didn’t seem like a pick me. so i hope that came across. the subject of being afraid of emotional intimacy while at the same time desperately wanting it is something that i struggle with myself. also the anxiety of letting someone see you wholly for who you are, and them still loving you. it’s horrific and scary but beautiful if you only let yourself be vulnerable enough.

the reason i ended it with reader still having anxieties and even saying ‘what if i try to run away again’. is because it’s not happily ever after once you’ve found your person, and reader’s problems aren’t going to magically go away because she ‘got the guy’. she’ll keep learning and growing and making mistakes. but the difference is she has someone in her corner who will be with her through it. hence jake saying ‘then i’ll chase after you’.

at some points i thought the dialogue might seem cheesy, but this is based in the way that i/my friends talk and conversations that i’ve had. so…take that how you want. maybe me and my circle is cheesy lol.

pleaaassseee leave a review/ask/comment- whatever. as i said this is my baby and im curious to see whatever you have to say about this work, what it made you feel or think about, and also answer any questions!! i have these characters pretty fleshed out so i’d like to think i have the answers lol.

thank you again for reading!! — jaz

#enhypen imagines #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #jake imagines #jake smut #jake x reader #jake sim #sim jaeyun #sim jaeyun x reader #hard thoughts #hard hours #soft hours #soft thoughts #kpop fanfic #dividers by adornedwithlight #enha ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

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makkir0ll · 6 months

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"you have really long eyelashes"

it catches him off guard. you guys are just laying in your bed scrolling on your own phones. he didn't even feel you staring at him. how long have you been looking?

"thanks?" he replies

"no i mean seriously like drop the lash serum." you joke at him as you continue to observe him.

they're long and thick. the kind of lashes that have a natural curl, unlike yours, that fall straight down and take several minutes to curl to your perfect liking. not to mention the layers of mascara you apply to get them to even remotely look like his.

he turns his head to you and you don't miss his dilated pupils as his eyes bore into yours. you take note of how the lashes perfectly frame his eyes. and you're so jealous.

but then an idea pops into your head, you smile to yourself and he senses it coming.

"can i-"

"no" he cuts you off.

"babe please you don't even know what i was about to say!" you grab onto his shoulder as you plead.

"whatever it is im sure it's going to be bad." he retorts, turning his face away from you and going back on his phone.

"i'll buy you you're favorite food."

and that's how you end up here on his lap with your mascara in your hand. his hair is pushed back as his hands rest on your hips, drawing small circles as he awaits your actions.

you open the bottle with the black liquid and bring the wand close to his eyes. "don't move" you whisper and he listens. mainly because he's scared that you're going to poke his eye out as you bring the wand to the base of his eyelashes and wiggle it slowly before moving it up to coat the length of the lashes. some of the mascara gets on his eyelids. you repeat the actions on the other eye before going back and doing a second coat. you can tell that he might be slightly nervous that you're going to blind him with the way he holds his breath and the grip he has on your hips get ever so slightly tighter.

you move yourself off his lap and he goes to grab his phone so he can see what he looks like.

"wait no not yet, i'm still not done" you say as you go and grab ur q-tips and micellar water.

"still?"

"yes still, i need to clean up the mascara on your eyelids," you say as you place yourself back on his lap. you open the bottle of micellar water and carefully put the clear liquid on the q-tip. you bring the white stick of cotton to his eyes and you tell him to close them. he feels the wet cotton and it's a weird feeling. you watch the q-tip turn darker the more mascara you wipe off.

"okay i'm done!" you say and he opens his eyes and you don't think he's ever looked more majestic. his already long lashes looking even longer and bolder now that he has the mascara to bring them out. you notice that the color of his eyes pop more. "you look so pretty" you smile as lean in to pepper kisses along his face. his cheeks feel warm and he can already tell that they're probably red.

he reaches over to his phone and opens the camera app and switches the camera so he can see himself. and he immediatly notices the stark difference in his eyes with the mascara. he brings his fingers to his lashes to touch them. it feels weird and his eyes kind of feel weighed down. but he has no regrets when he sees you smiling at him so fondly.

"they look nice." he smiles at you, dropping his phone to the side.

"i know right, ugh im so jealous i wish i had your lashes. all my problems would be solved." you say, thinking about the long and excruciating lash routine you perform every morning.

"all of them?"

"yes, all of them."

he chuckles at your words. "alright, but can you take it off now, it feels weird." he says, hands coming to touch his lashes again. you pout as you grab the micellar water you put away and a cotton pad and remove the mascara from his eyelashes, being gentle so that he doesn't lose a few. he appreciates the action. and maybe he would let you put more than just mascara on his face another day.

KAGEYAMA (has the best lashes argue with the wall), suna, tsukishima (genuinely terrified that you're going to make him go blind), OSAMU, kuroo, MATSUKAWA MY LOVE, iwaizumi, OIKAWA (he would eat that shit up), akaashi, kenma, +ur fav.

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toastsnaffler · 1 year

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spoke too soon abt my fucking period 😐😐😐😐😐😐😐😐😐😐😐😐😐😐😐😐😐😐😐😐

#its two weeks late and it was a MISERABLE two weeks of pms and i thought well at least now its started its v light/watery so wont get in-#the way of cleaning or moving! and now its 3am final night + this is extremely heavy and blindingly painful ow fuck!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#i dont want to be awake rn i want to sleep thru the fucking night so im not exhausted tmr jghfhfhh #well most shit is done at least i dont have to fuckinf vacuum with this motherfucker ow but not being able to stand long is. not ideal!!!#ok i can take the bus to the station and then i wont have to be on my feet for longer than like. ten consecutive mins #and i can double up on codeine before i go its only an hour and a half and i can get my flatmate to help carrying stuff if i need to #ive travelled with worse than this before at least im travellinf with someone else ohbbut we wont have hot water until we get our kettle #well we can boil it on the stove. i guess bht thats really annoying maybe theres a local pharmacy i can get heat strips from friday am #i have heavy pads in the bathroom there so thsts fine. ouaugghf. just gotta get thru it hour by hour hopefully this is the worst now please #ok this is kicking in now i hope i wont be too woozy from painkillers tmr bht thats the smallest problem tnh and hot water bottle going back #to bed goodnighy everyone :^(((((((#maybr she'll let me sleep pn her on thr train woudlnt that be nice #okokok #.diaries

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mostly-imagines · 2 months

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The Morning After The Venus Drug

You wake to an ache that runs straight through your muscles and into your bones. Your eyelids feel weighted as you try to blink yourself to consciousness, the fabric of the pillowcase an unexpectedly tough barrier.

You lay on your stomach, bed sheets pooling around your waist. You recognize the weight of Jason’s arm over you before you see him, hair tousled and face scrunched up against your same pillow.

His cheeks are flushed pink and he’s still perspired, but he looks peaceful. You press the back of your hand to his forehead, frowning at the heat you’re met with.

You try your hardest to unwrap his arm from around your torso without waking him, an action that requires far more energy than you were hoping to capitulate to. But that movement turns out to be nothing compared to the ache felt when you try to move your legs.

A slight shift has you immediately stilling, the soreness between your legs proving to be more severe than anticipated. You stifle a groan, slowly pushing yourself to sit up. You have to take a moment to rest your muscles as your legs hang limp over the side of the bed.

Your legs are shaky and unstable as you try to stand and you nearly fall back onto the bed. You need a few practice steps before you’re able to pick up any actual pace towards the door.

You sit on the side of the tub while you clean yourself up, the skin of your thighs almost too tender to bear the ruggedness of the rag. You can’t be sure of how many rounds you went last night, but if you’re in this kind of shape, he must be worse off.

On your way to toss the used cloth in favor of a new one, a glance in the mirror has you double-taking. The hickies scattered across your neck and collarbone are blossoming dark and to be expected. However, the sight of bruises littered across your waist and hips draw some extra attention. They don’t hurt, really, the marks mostly bring forth warm feelings.

But you know that Jason won’t feel the same upon discovering them, so you figure it's best to cover them up for now.

You quietly shuffle through the bedroom drawers and pull out one of his gray shirts that’s even a little big on him. It drowns you out, more than enough to cover your rembrandts from last night.

The floorboards creak as you make your way to the kitchen, steps stiff and awkward. The warm orange light flowing in from the living room curtains is soothing, if not far too bright.

With a restrained pull, you pop the fridge open, careful not to let the unseal make too much noise. You collect a bottle of water and dampen the extra rag with cool water from the faucet.

You tiptoe back to the bedroom, supplies in hand. The mattress springs squeak slightly as your weight returns to them.

One hand comes to rest on Jason’s back as water from the washcloth drips down your other arm. “Hey,” you trace nonsense patterns into his skin, hoping the sensation will be enough to rouse him like it usually is.

But he doesn’t so much as stir, still breathing deeply. “Jay?” you shake him lightly, “You gotta wake up, baby.”

His eyes squeeze shut harder and a groan reverberates from deep in his throat. “Fuck…”

“Hey pretty boy,” you murmur, brushing his hair back. His face burrows further into the pillow as his hand comes up to blindly search for your thigh, kneading your skin once he finds you. “How you feel?”

“Like I got hit by a train,” he croaks, turning his head hesitantly into the light to look at you. He squints as he takes in the sight of you, slowly shifting onto his back. “Are you hurt?”

You shake your head tenderly, “Just sore.” You hold the water out to him, “Here.”

He looks at the water, then back to you. You huff, “Just drink it. I’ll have some after.”

He perches himself up on his elbow, taking the bottle from your hand with a pout. He chugs down three gulps before pushing the drink back in your hands expectantly. You feel his eyes on you as you take your own sips, only moving to sit up completely when he’s satisfied with your hydration.

He grunts as he adjusts his muscles to the new position, holding a hand out. “Lemme see you.”

“I’m alright,” you tell him, trying to mitigate his worry before it begins.

But his face only sterns, voice becoming serious. “Then let me see you.”

You’re ready to argue more to save him from the sure-to-come guilt, but he tugs your shirt up anyway, blinking a few times to get a clearer look at your skin.

Delicate hands come to hold you by the sides of your ribs, nudging you this way and that to examine the bruises littered across your skin. “Oh fuck, baby..”

He leans in close, running featherlight touches over the marks. “I don’t…” his chest drops, “I don’t remember doing that.”

You nod in understanding, taking his hands in yours and pulling them away from your body. “They don’t hurt. I like seeing them.”

He peers up at you skeptically and you nod again. “I like them. A lot. I like anything you give me.”

He closes his eyes and drops his head, “I should give you nicer things. Less painful.”

You gently push his face up to look at yours, keeping hold of his cheeks. “You do give me nice things,” you tell him before pressing a slow kiss to his lips. You rest your forehead against his, “But I like the rougher things too. Especially when I get them while you’re feeling good.”

His hands cover yours, moving them back down and turning them so he can hold them properly. “You’re okay?”

“I’m better than okay. Can guarantee I’m feeling better than you are anyways.” You pull back, scanning over his flushed face. You pick up the rag from your now considerably wet thigh, dabbing his forehead with it. “You look overheated.”

He relaxes a bit against the coolness, “Yeah, the effects of the toxin take a little while to wear all the way off. It’s not so bad anymore though.”

You nudge him to lay back down, draping the cloth over his head. He looks over you fondly as you lay a light kiss on his collarbone before tucking yourself into his side with closed eyes.

#jason todd loves his gf #jason todd thoughts™#jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd/you #jason todd imagine #jason todd/reader #jason todd fanfic #jason todd smut #jason todd fanfiction

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anadiasmount · 5 months

Text

needy - jb blurb

quick sum: after a tiny argument takes place, your boyfriend panics at the idea of going to sleep when you’re in this state. not speaking or holding him like you do before bed. who could blame him? he was your needy and clingy boyfriend over all.

“goodnight…” you felt jude’s lips kiss your bare shoulder. you rolled your eyes knowing he couldn’t see you as your back faced him. it was a silly argument about him spending to much time on his video games rather than help you around the house.

his socks were everywhere, training gear left by the door, empty water bottles laid around, and many of his dishes laid out. it or course ticked you off because you spend so much time for everything to look neat and clean around your house. yet jude was acting like a teenager and claimed he forgets to do so.

you wanted to throw a huge rock at his head labeled an idiot for him to understand. but jude was jude and he tried to brush it off which infuriated you more. how many times would you have to tell him tell the message spread across his head? when would be understand that doing a simple task isn’t the end of the world?

you were being a tad dramatic, but in the end you’re just a girl. you had enough and lashed out, not wording even a single good night to him. if he wanted to act the way he did, then you could show the same. “are you still mad? you’re not gonna say goodnight?” asked jude who laid on his back, turning his head where you still faced your back.

jude would admit it and knew he was in the wrong here. and he apologized when he came to terms about it. you should’ve not had to repeat yourself after the first time. jude was raised better than that, and what ticked him off was now you telling him what to do. in the end you were just asking for his help and he felt a dick about afterwards.

“i love you y/n,” jude blabbered not getting a single reaction out of you. not a small twitch, change of breathing, or word. jude tried to fall asleep but he couldn’t. not when you weren’t holding him, or wished him a goodnight, or when you were this angry. this was his punishment. jude turned to his side wrapping his arm around you, but was taken at back when you removed his hand almost immediately. like a reflex.

“y/n-”

“it’s hot. don’t touch me.”

lies. it was not hot. it was so damn cold with the damn air fan on. he knew that by the small goosebumps that spread across your arms and the thick coated blanket on top you. “i want to hold you though,” jude frowned. “and i said i’m hot. leave me alone,” you pushed yourself way closer to the edge of the bed, trying to create a distance with you clingy boyfriend.

jude was making progress, you finally had spoken. but he was so far from where he needed to be. “baby… you’re not even gonna hold my pinky? like you do when i piss you off? or say goodnight?” jude asked stunned, well pretended to be stunned but it wasn’t working. you knew the tricks he had up his sleeve, and the regret he was feeling lost argument.

no word. no movement. no change.

“y/n.”

“what jude? what? i’m trying to sleep,” you whispered loudly, turning your head to look at him. “you’re not even going to say i love you? what if i die in my sleep?” jude said dramatically which made you flare your nostrils annoyed, taking a breather. “oh you’re being dramatic. what if i die in my sleep-” you turn your back to it’s original spot just to be cut off by jude.

“don’t say that! you can’t. i won’t allow it. you and me are endgame darling,” jude stressed, hating thinking about the idea of you not being here with him, but more so now when you were mad at him. “i can’t leave you alone till i hear you say good night and an i love you.”

“well then stay up… if you mutter another word i’m going downstairs,” you warn, sighing deeply and feeling your eye lids heavy. jude was hesitant, the unsure feeling returning in his chest as he saw your quiet body again. “can you please just hold me hand? i can’t sleep if i’m not touching you.”

“no.”

“y/n now you’re just being unfair,” jude said frustrated, “watch me,” you said bunching up your pillow and blanket and walking to the door, though jude was quick to get up and block the door. “i’m sorry! i’m sorry! i promise i won’t talk again! just get back in bed i don’t want you to sleep downstairs,” jude said fast, dragging you back to bed, being careful to not let you fall.

you wanted to laugh, but part of you wanted to drag this out long as possible. it was hilarious to see your clingy and needy boyfriend upset because you were mad. jude kept his promise, laying back down and faced away from you, feeling defeated and more disappointed in himself.

you had stayed up a little longer, knowing you were the same and could only sleep if he was holding you or vice versa. jude had fallen asleep and you knew that when he relaxed his shoulders. you quietly stirred over to where his back face you, careful to not wake him, or the plan would go to waste.

no matter what had happened, what was said and done, you weren’t going to sleep without wishing him a proper goodnight. or it be your turn to feel that pang of guilt in your chest at breaking a promise you swore together. you wrapped your around around his bare torso, peppering kisses onto his back to wake him up gently. “jude?”

“y/n? you okay what’s wrong?”

jude had turned immediately seeing your pouty face. “i’m not mad anymore. not unless you do that again then i’ll have your head and tell your mother,” jude stifled out a laugh, his chest warming in happiness when he saw you smiling. he hated when things got this extreme and he almost cried when you didn’t utter his favorite three words that came out your mouth.

“i’m sorry…”

“it’s okay… we’ll it’s not but you get the idea of it now right?” jude nodded knowing to what you referred to. you pushed yourself up and give him a proper good night kiss, jude humming in pure delight, the unnecessary weight leaving his shoulders as he shivered at your taste. “i can’t go to sleep without saying goodnight,” you said out of breath against his lips.

“and?”

“and what else?” you gave him a confused look, but you were teasing him knowing he wanted to hear the three words that finalized the wish goodnight.

“say it or i’ll be mad at you.”

“i love you jude,” you say shyly, giggling into neck and leaving a kiss there. “there she is… my pretty girl,” jude laughed with you kissing your head and pulling you to his chest, where he would finally be at ease after the stressful hour you put him through. it was no myth, and right now it felt right. exactly what you both needed.

“hold my pinky too. me holding you isn’t enough for me…”

#judey thoughts 5️⃣#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham blurb

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jiminrings · 3 months

Text

four seven eight, phase 3 (1)

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 9k

glimpse: jungkook's secure when it comes to being a husband and a dad, knowing that he grew to love being both after everything you've been through. what he isn't so secure about is the possibility that it's everything he'll ever be.

alternatively, jungkook pursues his dream of making a film, even if it means making your rival his main lead behind your back.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale — complete series masterlist, from phase 1 to 3 ]

[ the return of 478jk (derogatory), major angst, fluff, the weight of devotion except jk's mean this time, flashbacks to phase 1 (im so sorry), the both of them r in an identity crisis, The Return of yoongi, yearning and the ache of unfulfillment all over, eventual redemption ]

notes: FINALLYYYYYY after a long wait, phase three is finally here :-) the og era of 478 is a time i'll truly never forget so now that i'm putting them in Several Inconveniences again, i look forward to creating another era with u citizens!!! mwah thank u love yew

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!!

Jungkook likes to be needed.

He likes to be needed fully, sometimes even all at once to the point that every mention of his name makes him think that his assistance is needed. He wants to be needed like the way you rummage through your old film canisters that you dumped in a large drawer just to retrieve a specific picture of him; needed like the way you sigh in relief when you find said roll.

Jungkook wants you to seek him in a crowd, past all the banners of your name from your fans and lanyards of your staff, and ask specifically him for a cold water bottle he keeps in his bag for you. As a matter of fact, he wouldn’t even mind if you ask it from him indiscreetly — he wants to be needed, even if neither of you are alone with each other.

He’s used to the feeling of being needed because it’s practically routine for him. The way Jungkook loves you has changed and evolved (needlessly to say for the better) through the years, and although he tries to look for the balance in it all, there’s a tiny, tiny part of him that wonders what would’ve happened if neither of you changed.

It’s perhaps the change in seasons, or maybe it’s the build-up of the stupid little things Jungkook’s seen recently; one of those things happen to be a ridiculously long thread by your fan, who happens to also be a fan of Yoongi, assuming that your marriage with J*ngkook (that’s exactly how they typed his name out) is ending, hence your recent collaboration on a brand deal. Jungkook, of course, has half the mind to go on his secret stan account and snark at said poster before reporting, but even then, there’s an itch in his mind that he can’t scratch.

Whatever weather it is outside nowadays or whichever stupid little thing pisses him off online, Jungkook can’t shake off the nagging question of what if in his mind.

When Jungkook cleans your water bottle every night for you to take to set the next day, he wonders if the two of you would still be together if only he didn’t rush to your place by the exact second your month-long break ended, right when he takes off the rubber from the cap to clean the ridges thoroughly.

When he blowdries your hair (even if you tell him not to bother) after you begrudgingly take a shower because you can’t sleep in bed after going outside and not washing up the second you come home, he wonders if you would’ve kept loving him even if the very incident with Sora didn’t push him to change, right when he sees you close your eyes while his hands scratch your scalp.

When Jungkook sounds out syllables to Hwayoung and tries his very best not to baby-talk her (he can’t help it sometimes) as he recounts his day to the toddler, he wonders if you would’ve even had a daughter with him if he stayed the same silent lover that he used to be, right when she parrots your name back to him with a smile.

“Young-ie’s probably starting to need me less and less,” he sighs to you with a pout, eyebrows knitted in concern as he gives you his rookie version of a blowout he’s still trying to perfect. Jungkook can’t flick his wrist the way professional hairstylists do, just in the same way you can’t pick up why he’s brought up the thought out of nowhere.

“How could you say that? She’s the biggest daddy’s girl ever,” you chuckle, placating him with the truth despite your initial confusion. If you weren’t fully awake awhile ago, you certainly are now — mostly because Jungkook springs up an unbelievable idea, and partly because whenever he tugs the brush at your hair, your whole head comes along with it.

“Not really. More like biggest mommy’s girl, you mean,” he defensively scoffs, apologizing quickly when he hears you wince at a particular experimental tug he does on your ends.

“Should we wake her up right now and let her decide?” you murmur, your eyes locking with his on the mirror.

Jungkook, at his most comfortable state, wearing ratty oversized pajamas and glasses on his face that he’s yet to update the prescription on, has never felt more competitive in his life.

“Well we could-…”

“I was joking,” you deadpan, the silence between the two of you getting long enough to the point that you suddenly find yourself laughing, effectively getting Jungkook out of his daze.

“… I knew that.”

You may have had an inkling about Jungkook feeling slightly off before in the past weeks, but all it took was his random, unprompted question tonight for you to solidify that seed of concern in your chest.

Jungkook likes to be needed, even if he can’t say the same that you need him as much as he thinks you do. He thinks it’s a perfectly rational feeling to want to be needed by both your wife and your daughter, and although he’s not as receptive to being needed as much by anyone other than his family, the feeling still stays the same.

He has all the time in the world. You’ve enabled him to do so even if he’s the one mainly looking after Hwayoung while you worked, but despite that, Jungkook doesn’t feel needed enough.

There’s an itch in his mind that he can’t scratch with neither your constant affection nor Hwayoung’s grabby hands. There’s an unplaceable, agitating urge in Jungkook’s chest to put a pause on everything and be back to who and what he used to be, despite your affirmation that he is needed.

There’s that tick going on in Jungkook’s brain that amplifies everything he does to seem wrong; that makes him grumpy when he wakes up to prepare you breakfast whenever you had early shoots, that makes him purse his lips when his daughter asks him to watch the same movie with her for the third time in the week.

All of the uneasiness in him, however, disappears when Namjoon, the acclaimed screenwriter that he has for a friend (whom he actually met through you), calls him up with an offer that Jungkook can’t refuse.

It’s an offer that releases the ache from his bones, makes him want to blowdry your hair better, and watch the same movie over and over again with his daughter — but Jungkook postpones saying it to you when you come home and want nothing more than to be in his arms, and for Hwayoung to be in yours.

( ♡ )

Jungkook could wait more.

He convinces himself that he can because although there’s a date set for the short film that Namjoon’s pitched for him to produce, it hasn’t grown yet to become the unstoppable force against Jungkook’s immovable object: family.

He knows he needs to tell you eventually and that he’s not really asking for permission in the first place, but there’s a sense of guilt in him whenever the thought of breaking the news to you comes into mind. He’s not nervous per se because he knows you’re as supportive of him, if not more, like he is with you.

It just happens that it’s within the fine details that Jungkook truly feels hesitant to tell you that he has to leave for awhile.

Jungkook could wait more, and although that means he has to deal with the occasional voice in his head telling him that lying to you (even under the guise of protecting you) has the capacity to bite back at him, he manages. He swallows down the words whenever you unintentionally give him an opening to tell you about the news of him going abroad, and just settles for holding your hand.

He could wait more because telling you now wouldn’t be the right time, now when you’re on your day-off as you’re close to wrapping up your current project before moving to the bigger, more exhausting one; not now when you have a time of reprieve to spend with your family before taking on the biggest project of your career to date.

Jungkook hums to himself as he looks down on Hwayoung who has a tiny shopping cart to herself, her strikingly round eyes that she got from him (Hwayoung looks more like him the older she gets) looking up to his own.

“Hi, pretty girl,” he lulls, mumbling loudly enough for only her to hear. “You’d understand if appa left for awhile, right?”

“Left?” she questions, holding up her left hand at the mention yet she reels at his query, brows furrowing as she seems to digest the question. “Why?”

“Yup. That’s your left. Good job, baby,” Jungkook praises, the knot in his throat growing when he looks to his daughter who looks confused at the sudden query, again, that came out of nowhere. “You would, won’t you?”

Hwayoung hums because she doesn’t quite understand, but that’s the thing that Jungkook fears most — she’s young and smart and although he wants to use those facts to his advantage, he realizes that Hwayoung being the age that she is in now could also prove him to be dispensable.

Jungkook likes being needed, but he’s much too afraid of the possibility that Hwayoung won’t even recall him as soon as he leaves.

Your husband’s snapped out of his reverie when you go downstairs with a skip in your step, the tell-tale mischievous tone to your voice already predicting that Hwayoung would make the two of you chase after her in the backyard all day. “What are the two of you plotting again?” you ask playfully, hands on your hips as Jungkook chuckles at the sight of his two girls.

“Nothing!” Hwayoung giggles, the word slipping out of her seamlessly as she even shakes her hands fervently, accustomed to what you mean exactly with your tone of voice. She’s young and bright and you see so much of Jungkook in her, even if Jungkook would argue otherwise.

Jungkook’s dazed this morning with the way his gaze locks in from far away, his bottom lip bit between his teeth more often than not as if he’s always at war with himself.

“You okay, Kook?”

“Mhmm. Couldn’t be better,” he hums half-heartedly, his lips grazing your temple as he guides you to sit down on the carpet with him. “You finally slept for more than eight hours. That’s good,” he says as an afterthought, the pauses in between his words growing in distance as his gaze is fixated on everything but you.

Jungkook looks at your daughter who’s now pushing Miso around the house in her shopping cart, and while your cat (who’s always seemed to hate your husband) looks more than pleased at being played with, she meows to Jungkook and only at him with a hiss at the end of her spiel as if in warning — as if Jungkook is guilty of something that only the two of them know about.

Almost as if out of everyone in the room, it’s only your cat who knows that Jungkook’s lying.

Jungkook can wait, but he’s certain that he can’t wait any longer because if his brain is unoccupied for long enough, he’ll start to hear Miso cursing at him through her yowls.

“Hwayoung doesn’t look like she needs you any less,” you say gently, your line of sight following Jungkook’s as he tenses at your words.

“Oh,” he sighs, jaw grinding down to a halt. “Right."

Your words seemingly came out of nowhere, even if the both of you know deep down that they’re influenced by his impulsive thoughts from last week.

“You can say the same for me,” you add, not as an afterthought, but as a lesser-known fact that Jungkook seems to forget every now and then.

There’s a weight in his chest because all of a sudden, Jungkook can’t wait anymore. The itch in his mind has already been scratched too much that it had already bled and scabbed.

There’s a weight in his chest that reminds him he can’t wait anymore, because in hindsight, the weight of him and everything that comes with him settles on his shoulders.

Maybe, Jungkook doesn’t want to be needed as much.

( ♡ )

Jungkook drops the news on you while you’re folding laundry.

He was meant to go for sincere but the way the words leave him, right when you’re in the middle of folding Hwayoung’s pajamas that she’s about to overgrow in the soonest, it sounds as if he’s been dying to tell you; now that he has, he sounds beyond relieved.

“Namjoon offered me a script,” he announces, taking the pajamas from you to put in his pile as he sees your eyes widen, the remnants of the heavy mascara they used on you on set awhile ago highlighting your surprise. “He wants me to produce.”

“What?” you punctuate, tilting your head as you try to make sense of what Jungkook’s saying. You know he’s speaking and you’re familiar with said words; you just never expected for them to be compacted in the same sentence, meaning the way that he makes it out to be. “Kim Namjoon, as in the producer for In Terms of Eternity?”

He chirps at that, posture straightening as he tries to jog your memory. “Yeah. You’ve worked with him before and introduced us, then turns out Jin’s also a friend of his and-…"

“I mean I know Namjoon and that you’re friends with him, Jungkook,” you interrupt, trying to reel yourself in as you’ve lost your focus trying to fold Hwayoung’s clothes and talk to your husband at the same time. “But I didn’t know you were that close for him to ask you to produce something for him.”

Jungkook doesn’t completely crash from the high he’s in over finally telling you the news, but there’s that spike that flashes briefly over his face, the frown on his lips letting on more than he shows.

“What’s that supposed to mean?"

You sigh at the impossible position the both of you are in, the words that try to line themselves up in your temple being no match to the way they translate out-loud. “It means nothing. I’m just… surprised that he’d ask you to be a producer for his script, that’s all. It came out of nowhere.”

Jungkook recoils at that, a stubborn brow raised as he tries to keep his composure. “Because you don’t think I’m capable of being a producer?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” you inhale sharply, gripping a random article of Hwayoung’s clothing beside you to pace yourself. “Namjoon’s.. big. He’s established, and well, you’ve never become a producer before.”

“And you have?” Jungkook digs, even if it’s unnecessary to do so, and the way his face falls at the forthcoming regret that creeps up to him lets you know that he thinks so too.

“Jungkook,” you try again, quirking your lips to the side as you try to manage with the pace he’s set you up on. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. This is all new to me. All new to you, even. If anything, it’s nice that Namjoon trusts you a lot.

“He does. We’re close,” he nods, clearing his throat as he feels that the both of you could move on to the other phase of the news you had interrupted him at. “As a matter of fact, we’re taking it on a global scale.”

Jungkook doesn’t get why your face falls.

He doesn’t get why your shoulders rise and fall, not in relief, but out of controlled tension that threatens to pour over.

“What?”

“The script. The film,” he smiles, trying to get you to finish his sentence and connect the dots together but to no avail. “It’s… it’s — we have to film in the US for a few months.”

“What?” you repeat, the knot in your throat tangling up more and more hesitance in you the longer it stays there.

“I said, we have to-…”

“No, I heard what you said,” you interrupt, jaw clenching tightly as you try to grasp everything Jungkook has said.

You don’t get why Jungkook’s smiling.

You don’t get why he’s completely at ease and only in confusion as he sees you piece everything out.

“Then what’s the matter?”

“Kook, all of this is new. Everything you’ve just said is and will be new,” you chuckle humorlessly, running your hand through your hair in frustration as you try to relax. “I’m happy for you, believe me, but Jungkook, what you’re saying is serious. It’s a lot to take in,” you pause, eyes wide as you repeat the words to yourself. “You. Producing. In the US, of all places, a-and for months.”

There’s not one exact emotion that runs through you because the longer that Jungkook looks at you, ecstatic, while you’re weighing what he’s just said like a bag of bricks — you feel even more conflicted.

Your husband wrings his hands together, nervously smiling at you as if he’s asking for permission, but the both of you know that his mind’s already set. He thinks the opportunity of producing a short film that’s been drafted by his friend is a once-in-a-lifetime thing, eager to take off even if he’s had no experience at all in the industry.

“I don’t know, baby. It’s just been so long since I got this excited and alive, y’know? It’s a nice change of pace and I get to do something nice-…”

“Isn’t being with your daughter nice?” you ask abruptly, unable to mask the conflict that’s been brewing in your mind ever since Jungkook pulled you aside to talk. You feel hesitant; disconnected even from wrapping your head around his wording.

Even convincing yourself that you’re just spent from working sunrise to sundown doesn’t work. No matter how hard you try, Jungkook’s tone remains as is.

“Y/N,” he sighs, lips in a tight line as he screws his eyes shut. “Don’t start.”

“I’m not starting anything, Jungkook,” you grit, crossing your arms in defense. You feel guarded more than ever, not because you’re the one whom he’s pertaining to, but because your Hwayoung is involved and you won’t sit around for it. “It’s just that when you put it like that, it sounds like taking care of Hwayoung is a chore.”

You used to be sure awhile ago that you were seeing double because in between memorizing scripts and going from schedule to schedule without any time to rest in between, you’ve been worried sick because Jungkook hadn’t texted you the whole day. You were shocked enough to come home to your daughter playing by herself downstairs (with Miso watching her the whole time), even more-so when you saw Jungkook engrossed in a highly-enthusiastic phone call.

Jungkook sighs as if talking to you completely exhausts him, pinching his nosebridge before muttering under his breath. “Like you’re one to talk.”

“Excuse me?” you blink in surprise, tilting your head in sheer confusion. You’re about to shrug it off but he does that thing again, the one where he almost rolls his eyes at you but realizes it at the last minute.

“Nothing.”

“Say that again, Jungkook.”

“My god,” Jungkook groans, throwing his head back. He runs his hands through his hair frustratedly, sucking in a rushed breath. He looks straight at you when he gives his grievance. “I’m just saying! Why do you get to live out your dream but I don’t?”

“This is my job,” you bite back instantly, the second it took for you to digest his words being enough time for him to groan again. “If it were up to me, do you think I’d work six days a week? Do you not know how much it kills me to stay away from my family?”

You’re at a loss for words, the tiny bit of insecurity you have being dug up once again. You feel guilty because you actually don’t — you know to yourself that you still dedicate so much of yourself to Jungkook and Hwayoung even if you work full-time.

Jungkook chokes up a laugh in front of your face.

“Then quit your dream if you’re so miserable.”

Your jaw clenches quickly in annoyance, unable to retain the disbelief that builds up in your chest. “My dream is my job! It’s why we’re living this life in the first place, Jungkook! Your dream is this project that was pitched to you like what, two weeks ago?”

“Can I not live my life the way that I want to?” he asks exaggeratedly, eyes wide in defense. “Why am I only your husband and why am I only Hwayoung’s dad? Why can’t I go to the US a-and try things out? Why can’t I be free from all this even for just a while?”

Your mouth falls apart at that, your moment of shock simultaneously being Jungkook’s instance for guilty. He wants to reel it in right then and there, but the small part of his pride grows to hold him back.

“Do we hold you back that much?” you whisper, the headache that has been building in your head since this morning shrinking to the size of Jungkook’s words. “What are you getting so angry for? I’m not saying no. I’m asking you why you’re so hellbent on suddenly leaving to do this.”

A large part of you, if not all, feels more disappointed than angry. Hwayoung has not and should never be an afterthought for the both of you yet Jungkook brings her up with you like mere variables.

You can grasp the fact that being a parent is a full-time job like yours yet what you can’t get a hold of is your husband’s apprehension; his sudden need of pursuing something beyond your family.

“Because I’m scared, Y/N,” Jungkook whispers, exhaling heavily. “I’m scared that this is all what life could ever be for me.”

It’s only when you’re completely silent that he comes back to the severity of his words, the tension that’s been building up in him breaking the moment that you break eye contact with him.

“I’m sorry for being your wife.”

“Baby, that’s not-…” Jungkook tries to correct himself, hot on your heels as you get up from your seat on the couch. You’re not even speeding up yet he catches you just as urgently, the hold he has on your arm doing little to put you at ease.

“And I’m sorry for making you a dad.”

“Y/N, sweetheart, I’m-…”

“You should do this project if you really want to,” you quip, back still turned to him as you enter the bedroom. Jungkook noticeably stops in his tracks, the furrow in his brows fading because you’ve put him on whiplash.

“What?”

“You’ve held down the fort while I was out being the breadwinner. It’ll be nice for you to do your own thing,” you smile tightly, eager to sleep on the whole thing just so you don’t stay hung-up for too long.

“What about Hwayoung? What about your film? They want it to be an entry for the Academy, right?” he asks in concern, different from the worry he had awhile ago when he thought you were against him leaving.

You nod, easily shrugging despite the weight on your shoulders. “I’m her mom, of course. She’s gonna come first. And for the film, I think I can still do it. I’ll juggle them both if I have to.”

Jungkook nods, eyes set on the floor. He didn’t think this far at all.

“Do you want to hire a nanny? I know a friend.”

“I’ll pass. I don’t trust nannies.”

There’s an overwhelming silence that engulfs the both of you, the white noise machine in your nightstand unable to fill it completely. Jungkook looks at the ceiling while you look at Hwayoung who’s sprawled in the middle of your bed, clutching Miso like a teddy bear — she already fell asleep waiting for the both of you.

“I didn’t mean what I said awhile ago, I’m sorry. It came out the wrong way,” Jungkook apologizes after some time, hand darting out to hold yours while you only hover above your vanity, taking off all of your jewelry except for your wedding ring.

“When do you leave?” you ask, still unable to meet his gaze.

“Next week,” he clears his throat. “When do you start filming?”

You nod, coming into terms that Jungkook would leave no matter what you say. “Next week.”

You’re arranging the covers when your husband tries to hold you again, voice strained and rushed. “Y/N, I really am sorry. I love being your-…”

“Shh,” you interrupt, pursing your lips. “Hwayoung’s sleeping.”

( ♡ )

You asked for a day off.

You’ve rarely ever asked for them throughout your entire career because you were built on the mindset that at the end of the day, you’re also an employee no matter what gig you land. Be it the cameos you used to book with Yoongi or the titular characters you take from studio after studio, you’re still the employee who had worked her way up fairly.

You didn’t ask for it during that instance when you fell sick after back-to-back shoots because you didn’t want to waste anyone’s time. You didn’t ask for it when you woke up with the type of fatigue that settled in your body no matter how hard you closed your eyes or laid your head against the cushions.

You’ve never asked for it for your sake, but you’ve asked for a day off now because Jungkook’s leaving for a place you can’t come and go to as you wish.

Unlike your house or the hotels you book for him and Hwayoung to be at whenever you have to film out of town, Jungkook’s out of reach. He’s one call away, granted that your timezones match up and there’s a connection strong enough for it to continue without a hitch. He’s far from your grasp and he will be for months on end, and you don’t think you can ever stomach working on the same day he’s leaving.

“Are you seeing me off at the airport?” he asks during the car ride, voice audible enough for only you to hear and not Hwayoung who’s sprawled across both of your laps, sleeping soundly with her plushie that resembled Miso.

“I will, but I don’t think I can see you off near the gate. I can only manage up to here,” you answer honestly, willing yourself not to break down even if the both of you are still in the car, away from any prying eyes of the media that lurks outside. “So can Hwayoung,” you add, a large part of you being grateful that she’s asleep when Jungkook has to leave so neither of you would hear her cries.

Jungkook sees that hesitance in you, the same kind that softens him into fragments.

“It’ll only be for awhile, okay? Just for a few months,” he smiles tightly, rearranging his backpack next to him, the keyring that held Hwayoung’s second-favorite toy (not the ultimate favorite because she won’t ever let him take it) clattering loudly. “I love you,” Jungkook murmurs. “Do you know that?”

“Mhmm.”

“Say it back.”

You refuse to do so because saying it back feels finite, perhaps even forced, because although you love Jungkook, saying so at the moment only weighs you down as reality sinks in. “This is gonna be easy for us, right?"

“It’s not like we’ve never been in a similar set-up before,” he shrugs, the pout on his face casual as he tries to level with you.

“But this is different, Jungkook. This is beyond different. We have Hwayoung and now, we’re both working,” you stammer, chest rising and falling as you wrap your head around everything. “This— this isn’t Seoul to Jeonju. This isn’t a leave by day, come back by night type of trip. This is-…”

“You’re freaking out,” Jungkook interjects, his soft yet stern voice cutting through your thoughts as he lays a hand on your thigh, the platinum of his wedding band looking right up at you.

You surrender in defeat, not because you’re fighting with your husband, but because there’s simply no other answer he could ever conjure for you as to why this is happening.

“Why aren’t you? Why am I the only one scared?” you whisper.

“You’re not supposed to be.”

“Of course. It’s not like you— we put everything on the line,” you clear your throat, looking down on your shoes as you convince yourself. You ignore how you’re still not entirely aware of what’s with Jungkook’s project, other than the fact that Namjoon’s the screenwriter, all in favor of giving you a semblance of sanity before Jungkook leaves you and Hwayoung. “Right?”

( ♡ )

You wonder if Jungkook already ate breakfast.

You wonder if he ate the supposedly excellent in-flight meal that comes with first-class tickets, or if he ate the ramen he’s always had a penchant for eating especially during your trips, whether by land, sea, or air. You wonder if he’s grumpy with the altitude and the way he has to pop his ears ever so often, along with the way he always seems to be too long for airplane seats turned into beds.

You call but Jungkook doesn’t answer, even if you know he’ll never not purchase in-flight wifi because he’d rather knock himself out than have to read a book or something of the sort. You message, but then again, your husband doesn’t answer, even if you know he’ll much rather reply via text than to record a voice note because he’s shy with people hearing him in public spaces, albeit closed.

Hwayoung waits patiently beside you, swinging her legs back and forth on the couch as Miso stays up with her. She should’ve been in bed half an hour ago but you let her stay up with you, all in the pursuit of getting Jungkook to respond.

“Appa?” she asks again after a minute of you trying for her dad but through another app, her pout reminding you of Jungkook’s who’s unreachable.

You try not to frown in front of her, leveling yourself as you settle for kissing her forehead to cover up the sigh that originates deep from your chest.

“Not yet, Young-ie.”

There’s no text from Jungkook when you wake, but there is a picture of him in the buffet of the private lounge he’s staying at during his layover.

Atleast Jungkook did eat breakfast and Hwayoung was able to sleep without him (the first of what you dread is many), nevermind the dull thrum in your chest in Jungkook’s absence.

( ♡ )

Hwayoung's been behaved the whole time you were on set.

With Jimin prioritizing his voluntary role of being a babysitter to your daughter over his position of being a manager to you, you became instantly comforted at the reassurance that you're not in this situation alone.

It's only been a week since you started working right after Jungkook left, his absence rearranging every system you've previously had in place. You do your very best to have Hwayoung still thriving, and even just the reminder that you are succeeding at being the only present parent for the meantime melts all of your fatigue away.

Your trailer's more equipped for her than it is for you, the space apparently reminding Hwayoung of home so much that it's enough to make her remind you that Miso should go join the both of you sometime. Your dressing room's always been hers, and so has been the affection of everyone close to you.

“I take my role of godfather very seriously.”

Yoongi explains even if you haven't asked him anything. In fact, you weren't talking to begin with. It's not in his nature to talk for the sake of talking (that's Jungkook's), but even with Hwayoung in his arms and you still being lost in your thoughts, he can't help but to feel concerned.

“I can tell," you snicker, finally taking notice of the sight in front of you. The earpiece that was previously on Yoongi is now slung over Hwayoung's shoulder, obviously too big on her. She wanted it as an accessory (it reminds her of the toy stethoscope she'd put on Miso as a collar) and with Yoongi being himself, he can't bring himself to say no.

Your shooting day's nearly over and although today wasn't as long as your previous record of hours on end, you already seem exhausted. Yoongi, of all people, knows what scenes wear you out. You hated doing monologues as a rookie and still despise monologues (but with random, out-of-place advertisements in between) as a veteran — you’ve done neither today.

"What's with the frown?" he asks gently, not only because Hwayoung’s been quiet for the past two minutes and she’s getting groggy, but also because if he were to ask you any louder, he feels as if you’d break.

"It's nothing," you answer automatically, looking at Hwayoung to ground yourself. "Just usual family things, I guess."

"Trouble in paradise?" Yoongi asks with a chuckle, abruptly stopping his fit of amusement when he gets goosebumps starting from the tail of his spine. He instantly recognizes it as deja vu. "I've asked you this before, haven't I?"

The realization doesn’t hit you until he points it out.

"Mhmm," you hum absent-mindedly, playing with the hem of your dress. “I don't think the problem now is anything like how it was before, though."

One night several years ago, you and Yoongi were sat side-by-side in the booth of a club, the heartbreak you had over what Jungkook’s done (and haven’t, at the time) being the wedge between you.

Now, Yoongi’s standing in front of you while you’re sat down, your daughter with Jungkook in his arms.

“Me neither. I don't know how you and Jungkook can encounter any problem worse than last time, to be honest," he chuckles, shaking his head at the recollection of the hell you’ve been through. "Also, I think I can say that because I literally don't know what's going on with you. But if you do tell me-!"

"You're so nosy,” you snort, the brief moment of playfulness welcome because your head aches the longer that you dwell over your worries.

"I can be the judge to see if what you're going through now is worse than before," Yoongi shrugs to fake nonchalance, unaware that you’re gasping in awe until you kick him lightly in the shin.

Hwayoung’s asleep in his arms.

"She's never did that with anyone before," you murmur, fishing for your phone to take a picture, but not before quickly skimming to see if Jungkook’s sent you any messages; he hasn’t. “She only either sleeps in mine or Jungkook's arms. Not for my parents, not for my in-laws. Just me and him."

Yoongi smiles proudly, stroking Hwayoung’s hair proudly. "What can I say? I'm godfather of the year."

He only sways her gently back and forth, rocking her with the patience and attention that remind you of Jungkook’s when Hwayoung was a newborn.

You’re calm and quiet to see her adjusting so well already, but you can’t help but to feel lost because you feel the exact opposite. No one’s gonna stroke your hair for you and tell you to take your time — those are Jungkook’s tasks alone, yet your grievances are also because of him.

"Jungkook's producing this short film in the US. It's by his friend," you mutter under your breath after some time in silence. Yoongi flicks his eyes up at you as if you’re talking about the weather, careful not to make you feel more conflicted than you already are. “You know… by Namjoon.”

"Since when was he into that?" he asks out of curiosity, eyebrows furrowed because he didn’t know that your opening line would ever transition to this point in the conversation. Yoongi catches a second wind the longer he processes your words, the scoff that leaves his lips making his bangs loose despite the hairspray on them. “Since when did Jungkook and Namjoon belong in the same sentence?”

"I don't know either.”

"So we're both producers now?" he snickers, the teasing already coming natural. "Nepo husband alert."

You roll your eyes in recognition, clearing your throat as soon as the laughter died between the two of you. “We got into this argument and I don't know, I-I realized I was being selfish for a moment because I didn't want him to go at first, you know?" you admit in full sincerity, exhaling the lump that forms in your throat. “He said he was afraid that this is everything he'll be. My husband, Hwayoung's dad. So on and so forth."

Yoongi only listens this time, giving the occasional hum there to remind you that he’s still there.

"And last night, he, uh, he forgot to call," you gulp, already feeling the weight of your worries settle in your stomach. "The call wasn't even for me. It's for Hwayoung because he promised he'll still read her whatever she wants."

The three of you cherish that time together because normally, it happens as soon as you get home from work. Hwayoung’s long graduated from storybooks and has now branched out to the most ridiculous texts that Jungkook indulges her with nonetheless — from the ingredient list at the back of milk cartons, and all the way to Reddit threads of how cats find their way back home to owners.

"He's been secretive about the whole thing and I-I… I do that too with my projects, I get it. But only at first because I'm literally bound to an NDA," you stammer, pinching your nosebridge to get past the frustration. “I’m just-…!" you give up, admitting the truth. "I did some snooping."

"And?" Yoongi prompts, tilting his head in anticipation.

"I think he's been secretive because the main lead's Eunsu."

Yoongi recoils at that, so much so that it almost wakes up Hwayoung.

"Eunsu? As in Park Eunsu?" he repeats, the scowl on his face getting deeper the more that you stay indifferent. “Eunsu as in your nemesis?"

You relent, the mention of her finally hitting close.

"Nemesis sounds a little childish."

Yoongi scoffs immediately, rolling his eyes at your correction. “I mean yeah, because people keep pitting her against you when she doesn't even come close," he shrugs easily, make you tut in warning. "What? I'm just saying what everybody's been thinking."

To know that you can still confide in Yoongi no matter what comforts you — what doesn’t is that this time around, your gut feeling’s stronger than it had been the last time.

"I hope I'm wrong."

"I hope so too," he exhales, shaking his head in disbelief. "What kind of asshole sleeps with his wife's enemy?"

"Don't put that out there,” you grumble, the unintentional yet weird arrangement of words making you dizzy.

"Sorry. It's a metaphor, dummy," Yoongi surrenders, clearing his throat. "Okay. Retake. What kind of husband produces a film featuring his wife's rival?

"Hopefully not mine."

( ♡ )

It takes little effort to love you.

Loving you specifically doesn’t have to be hard.

Jungkook thinks that loving you isn’t hard when you serve as the peace to his otherwise hectic and turbulent mind. You manifest into the comfort he looks for in all seasons, be it the heat pack you wordlessly put in his coat pocket or the scrunchie you put around his wrist no matter the weather whenever his hair got too long.

You don’t text him at every hour of the day whether you were working or not, but you’ve made it a point to always check up on him multiple times even if the both of you are at home, going as far to randomly waking up in the night to pause your breathing and check up on his with a hand on his chest.

It’s easy love — one that could be grasped by everyone because as the world has proved to him time and time again, you’re easy to fall with and for.

You may not coo and awe at every single thing he utters, but the adoration behind your eyes always makes him warm from the inside because you held onto him, no matter how anticlimactic his stories could be.

Neither you and Jungkook are easy, that much he knows.

He knows it because although it’s never been his intention to come home late during his allotted short break between filming (it’s disguised as a break even if he only came back to take care of work-related matters personally), you make it known that you’re irked with him for every other reason.

He knows that you aren’t easy because for the past three weeks he’s been gone, you’ve reiterated twice in the last hour alone how you’ve asked him again and again who will star in his short film. You’ve asked Jungkook repeatedly to give you details outside of Namjoon and the vaguest bits he could ever give you, establishing the fact that he isn’t even bound to an NDA.

It’s the persisting barrage of questions in your head that bothers you without a single break. It’s the hovering feeling of doom above your head because having no answers to any of them, on top of Jungkook closing himself off with or without the physical distance between the two of you and being Hwayoung’s sole caregiver, that your patience ultimately thins.

Your annoyance towards your husband is clearly obvious and it bothers him to the point of frustration. Jungkook’s been convinced since last week that if he just dodged your questions for long enough and blamed it on the connection of your call, he wouldn’t have to answer to you; he wouldn’t have to explain the fine details of the project he’s kept from you.

If he had only avoided you for long enough, you would’ve forgotten about the rumors surrounding Namjoon’s upcoming screenplay that had been leaked to the press, and the roster of actresses thought out to be the main lead of his short film.

If he had only ignored your pleas for long enough, he would have never succumbed to the preliminary guilt that comes with lying to you under the impression that he’s only being protective, pushing him to drink until his vision spins — enough for him that when he admits the truth to you, your face of heartbreak directed at him isn’t as anguishing.

“Fine, fuck it! Since you’re so nosy, yes. Eunsu is my main lead, there! She’s my muse!” Jungkook just about yells, breathless from the burn of alcohol in his throat that spreads all the way to his chest, and from the back and forth he’s been going at with you for the last hour.

“Why didn’t you tell me in the first place?!” you retort, fists clenching at your sides as the thought of Jungkook with Eunsu, with her of all actresses, in a foreign place at almost every minute of the workday irking you.

“Would it have made a difference? You’d still be angry at me,” he rolls his eyes, placing a hand on his hip as he tries to stabilize his gaze on you.

“And even then, you wouldn’t do anything about it, right? Because that’s just your nature, Jungkook,” you scoff, your dig at him being incredibly low yet you steel your pride, unwilling to back down at the thought that Jungkook’s been lying to you for three weeks– perhaps even longer.

He presses a tongue to his cheek as you pertain to the past loud and clear, the sarcastic nod he gives you making your breathing tremble.

“Why? Why does it have to be her?” you try again, this time with your jaw clenched so your anger won’t flare up because you’ve been dying to have a decent explanation from Jungkook for weeks.

“Why can’t it be her?” he counters. “B-because she’s what, she’s your rival or something? You’re jealous? Bitter?”

The knot in your chest tightens, the recall you have of the woman who had sabotaged you repeatedly when you were still a rookie putting a metallic taste on your tongue. She’s hindered you in ways that not even Yoongi could explain fully despite being the closest friend to you in the industry, the vitriol you’ve had for Eunsu in the past reviving back to life.

You have no words except for the fact that begs to be acknowledged without a single syllable.

“I’m your wife, Jungkook,” you exhale shakily, the gravity of it seemingly not enough for him because he refuses to use it as a reason to get on your side.

“Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think everybody knows that by now?” Jungkook spits. “When I’m producing my film with Eunsu, I don’t want to be your husband, Y/N! I’m sick of it,” he seethes. “Eunsu has nothing to do with me. Why should I fight your battles for you? Why do I have to carry your grudges for something that doesn’t even concern me?”

Jungkook’s the drunkest he’s ever been in his life, yet he utters the clearest words you’ve ever heard him say.

“This is showbiz, Y/N. It’s inevitable for you to get caught up with shit.”

“You’re talking as if being my husband and being Hwayoung’s dad is a chore.”

“Because maybe it is!” Jungkook bursts with a cry, the tears that spring out of his eyes momentarily blinding him. “Because maybe, I’m fed up trying to be sickeningly devoted to you all the time.”

There’s something akin to white, hot, searing pain that spreads across your chest all the way to your temple, the tremble of your lips not enough for Jungkook to realize that you’re on the verge of sobbing.

“Sometimes I hate this. I… I-I hate this life I’m living because of you, Y/N,” Jungkook whispers. “I hate how you’re so, so perfect in juggling everything. I hate how I could spend an hour just convincing Hwayoung to eat a single carrot and you come in the room, and she finishes the bowl with a smile on her face. I-I hate how you never complain whenever you need to do late night feedings after a long day because I’m already snoring. I hate how with or without work, you’re still just—…” he stills, looking at you with a distraught gaze. “You’re still so content. You’re still able to be yourself like you’ve always been.”

There’s no words left in you; no thought at all that could ever pick you up from the ground and gather yourself the way you’ve always had whenever you and Jungkook had felt the furthest from each other.

“Jungkook,” you sniffle, even if he waves you off half-heartedly. “I’m sorry if-…”

“There it is. There it fucking is again!” Jungkook whines, foot agitatedly stomping against the floor as he pulls at his hair. “You’re apologizing for being so perfect in life that it’s making me feel bad!”

“But I’m not! I’m far from it, what the hell are you talking about?” you rasp, the sarcastic laugh that goes past your lips making his ears ring. “I’m sorry if it seems that way but I’m telling you myself that everything is not perfect the way you make it out to be. I’m sorry because it makes you feel bad, but if anything-…”

Jungkook raises a finger at you, his jaw tightening the longer he stews in displacement.

“Don’t. Don’t. Don’t tell me how content you are with everything despite being exhausted, or how you juggling everything is worth it. Don’t tell me how good of a dad I am."

“Then what can I say to make it lighter for you, Jungkook? What can I say that won’t make you resent me?” you grit in surrender, chest falling so lowly, you’ve forgotten to breathe for a long second. “Do you hate the life that we’re living now so much that you can’t even look at me?”

Love isn’t always a matter of ease and although it’s always stuck to you, you prove now that Jungkook coming home to you at this instance, in this light, that he makes love the most difficult thing.

“Do you hate the life that I gave you so badly?”

“I don’t,” he answers, mouth dry as his vision spins. “Sometimes. Tonight, though — maybe I do. It comes and goes.”

“Then what can we do about it?” you whisper, your vision hazy as you look at him. “Where do we go from here?”

“It’s getting late,” Jungkook only whispers, unwilling to look at the bed you share. “I have an early flight tomorrow.”

#heh . how r we feeling citizens!!!! :O #jungkook imagine #jungkook oneshot #jungkook oneshots #jungkook series #jungkook angst #jungkook angst imagine #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook au #jungkook scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #bts jungkook imagine #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook x reader

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selineram3421 · 10 months

Text

*deep breath* Ok, someone found a loophole. Requested through messages.

Aftercare Headcanons

Alastor/Angel/Husk X Reader

Warning! ⚠

⚠ suggestive/implied, implied nudity, fluff, implied biting/scratching/bruising, consent ⚠

So after your...ahem..activities, this is what the boys do.

Alastor🎙

Of course he's going to treat you like a God after something so tiring. Only the best of the best for his significant other.

Everything is taken care of. Don't you dare try to lift a finger.

Can you? I mean *cough cough*

Has the bath prepared with rose petals and candles, water at the perfect temperature. He does join you.

Towels and robes folded on the counter nearby the hygiene products.

His shadows take care of cleaning up the bed and changing the sheets.

Will sometimes apologize about the marks left on your skin. Depends.. He does like some of them.

Sometimes he'll add more

Expect a lot of cuddles and kisses while you are being taken care of in the water.

And some sweet talking.

"Tu as goûté devine ma chéri/e~" (You tasted devine my darling~)

Want a massage? Of course.

Food or drinks? Already taken care of.

Once you're ready to get out of the bath, don't bother on getting up. He'll pick you up and dry you himself.

Once in your towel or robe, he'll carry you back to the now clean bed and make sure you're comfortable.

He'll dress you up too if you asked.

If not then he'll bring you your clothes, kissing you on the forehead once you have them in your hands.

No? Nothing at all?

Now you're tempting him.

"Be careful darling."

Won't do anything unless you want to.

He'll hold you close as you sleep.

Extra

Angel🕸

He'll have everything set up for you to take care of each other on the days he's not exhausted from work. Sometimes its a last minute thing.

Wipes or rags are on the nightstand. Along with some other things like a water bottle and easy snacks.

There's a towel on the bed so you don't have to switch the sheets.

He'll clean you up with those first or will scoop you up to the bathroom. Or maybe you scoop him up?

Gets the bath or shower ready while you make sure to get the face masks and robes/towels out.

Expect kisses and tickles while helping each other clean off.

Once out of the water, both of you put on your robes/towels and get the face masks.

"Fuck babe, you left marks.", he'll say after checking himself in the mirror. "Can you make more?"

You help him dry off as best as you can, giving him kisses as you go.

He might take the kissing up a notch and turn it into a make out session...

Or more

Then its face masks time!

After that, you both get ready to cuddle up in bed and watch t.v.

Fat Nuggets joins the two of you and makes themselves comfortable under one of the blankets.

Pig in a blanket

Helps you take off your face mask when noticing you getting sleepy.

Will kiss you goodnight and spoon you/or be the little spoon.

Husk🃏

He'll do what he can for you. He won't admit it but he went to Angel for some advice and bought whatever he needed to make sure you were taken care of.

He'll help you clean off before offering the shower.

A little awkward because he has not done something like this in a long time. Will start the water if you asked/or teach you how to work the water.

Is a little shy if you ask him to join you.

"You won't like the wet cat look."

He'll go get drinks and snacks if he doesn't join you. If he does join, then he'll call room service beforehand.

Expect kisses and gentle touches while in the water.

Notices that he did leave some marks.

Cat pupils go =◽^◽= > =⬜^⬜=

Let's you out first because he'll get embarrassed if you see his fur puff up after drying off.

Or you do see it and it makes you smile.

When he gets out, he sees that you've taken care of the bed sheets and opened a bottle.

Accepts the cup you offer him and sits next to you.

Feed each other snacks, maybe share a few more kisses. Might turn into a make out..

"I had a good time."

Falls asleep first while holding you and purrs.

*screams into pillow*

~Seline, the person.

Taglist@

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MLS Alastor, Angel, Husk

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astrolynnworld · 8 months

Text

cramps

pairing: matt x reader

summary: you’re on your period and matt does anything and everything to soothe the pain away

warnings: fluff! period cramps, romance, care, reassurance, wholesome, pet names (sweet/pretty girl)

word count: 717

i toss and turn as i feel my pre period cramps start to form

my period is not suppose to come for another 5 days but my cramps always come first, as a warning

i check raise my head to check the clock and see what time it is

“4:15 am” i see on the tv’s cable box

i lay my head back down and continue to shuffle around the bed to find a comfortable position for my cramps to relax in

“baby what’s wrong?” matt asks me with his raspy morning voice

“my period is coming soon, i feel the cramps start to overTAKE me” i say in soft annoyed tone

“is there anything i could do to help baby?” he concerns

“can you actually go get me my heating pad please?” i ask nicely

he hops out the bed and uses the flashlight off his phone to roam around the room and look for my heating pad

once he pulls it in comes back to bed, i hear him gasp

“what?” i jump in shock at his gasp

“your period.. came”

i sit up to see what he’s talking about and see a whole bloody mess stained into our bedsheets

“oh my god” i put my head in my hands out of annoyance and embarrassment

“it’s okay baby. i just need you to stand up for me okay?”

i get off the bed and start to feel the water works fall out

“don’t cry baby” matt says as he comes over to me and wraps his arms around me

“hey it’s not your fault baby” he tries to reassure

“you can’t help it.. you didn’t know, it’s completely fine. you don’t have to cry, sweet girl” he continues as he starts to play with my hair in the hug

i pull back and start to wipe my eyes as i start to sense that im being dramatic

“here baby, i need you to go wash up while i clean the bed”

i nod my head and make my way to the bathroom

“and hand me your clothes before you go in the shower please”

i do as i’m told then i head to the shower

i continue to wash up as i hear matt enter the bathroom

“hey pretty girl, everything still okay?” he asks

“yeah, i’m just finishing up” i sluggishly say

“okay baby. i changed our sheets and im washing the other ones now” he reassures

i stay silent out of acknowledgment but he doesn’t leave

“is there anything else you want princess?” he asks

“no thank you” i say while shaking my head as if he could see me

“alright..” he says before closing the door

i could tell he feels bad but i just really can’t be bothered rn. my stomach hurts, i embarrassed myself, im so annoyed, and i feel bad that he feels bad.. there’s just too much going on

i finish up my shower and put my towel on before heading back to the bedroom

when i get back i see matt had turned on the led lights, switched the tv to netflix, and had my tylenol bottle set up next to some water

“matt what is this?”

“nothing much. just me trying to distract you from your period” he giggles

“that’s not how it works sadly” i pout as i pop the tylenol in my mouth and swallow some water

“well, im gonna try” he comes in for a kiss

i start to get dressed, not forgetting the pad, as matt searches for a good movie to watch.

“do you want some to eat pretty?”

“is anything even open right now?” i genuinely ask

“only mcdonald’s..” he replies

“then yes please” i smile at him

“your usual?”

“yeah” i reply as i get in bed to snuggle next to him

“it’ll be here in 30 minutes” he says

“if we’re still up” i chuckle

“don’t worry. i’ll grab it for you so you can enjoy it when you wake up and not kill me for letting you fall asleep” he chuckles back

“thank you baby. i appreciate you so much, definitely a core memory” i turn over to face him

he smiles and places a kiss on my forehead, “i love you, sweet girl. don’t forget it”

——————————————————————-

taglist: @cutiepatootie36273 @secret-sturniolo @sturns-blog @sturniolo-2003 @mayaaatok @sturnswrites @mattsleftnipple03 @mattybswife @tropicasturn @princessbetsy123-blog <333

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punkshort · 5 months

Text

i know who you are | 8. the return

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: You help Joel recover from his injuries and you finally confront your feelings for him.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, mutual pining, sad!Joel, amnesia, slow burn, descriptions of wounds/injuries, some smutty situations but nothing very explicit, dare I say fluff?

WC: 8.2K

Series Masterlist

"Joel, wake up."

He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut even tighter.

"C'mon. You gotta get up."

"Five more minutes," he mumbled.

"Joel," you tried again, your voice sounding so far away. Why did you sound so far away? "Joel, please wake up. I need you."

You needed him. Okay. For you, he would wake up.

His eyelids fluttered.

"Joel?"

Your voice didn't sound so far away now.

"Joel? Can you hear me?"

Fuck, his head hurt. His side hurt. Everything fucking hurt.

Then he remembered.

He forced his eyes open, blinking rapidly as his pupils adjusted to the bright light until he focused on you. You.

You were so pretty. So, so pretty, standing next to his bed with that little worried crease between your eyebrows, leaning over him. You didn't need to be so worried. Don't be worried.

Your eyes brightened when he saw you and he slowly began to recognize where he was.

He was back in Jackson. At the infirmary, in a bed.

You jumped up, calling over your shoulder for Nick and Tommy before turning back to him and grasping his hand.

"Are you in pain?"

He didn't answer. He just stared at you, dumbfounded, his brain struggling to catch up. He squeezed your hand and you gave him a shaky smile.

Tommy and Nick barged into the room and you dropped his hand. Nick began to take his vitals while Tommy tried to stay out of the way, but Joel's focus remained on you. He watched as you drifted around the room on autopilot, handing Nick instruments and supplies from a table, then disappearing out into the hall when he asked you to get some medicine he had no idea how to pronounce.

"What's your pain like, Joel?" Nick asked, reading the blood pressure cuff.

He opened his mouth to answer but immediately started coughing. Tommy twisted around to grab the water bottle next to the sink and Nick lifted it to his lips. "Slow," he reminded him, so Joel sipped slowly then sat back with a sigh.

He was so tired.

"Your pain?"

Joel took a deep breath and winced.

"Ain't great," he croaked, voice all gravelly. You came back into the room and handed Nick the medicine, giving Joel a reassuring smile. God, he missed you so much.

He heard Nick ask you to fill a syringe for him and Joel watched you work, your hands steady and your breath even as you concentrated on getting the dosage exactly right.

"Joel? Did you hear me?"

"Huh?" he asked in a daze, dragging his eyes to his brother.

"I said, what the hell happened out there?" Tommy was pressed up against the wall, making himself as small as possible while you and Nick worked.

"Ran into some raiders- fuck!" he exclaimed when the needle entered his skin.

"Sorry," Nick murmured before pulling it out.

"Where?" Tommy asked, and Joel shook his head.

"Not 'round here. Out in California."

Everyone in the room paused to look at him.

"You got this fucked up out in Cali and you made it back?" Tommy asked in disbelief, and Joel slowly nodded his head. "Fuckin'... how?"

Joel's eyes found yours again, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a half smile.

"Had a guardian angel," he said, his eyelids beginning to droop.

"The hell does that mean?" Tommy asked. Joel pointed to his pack on the floor.

"Side pocket."

Nick lifted the blanket covering Joel's bare torso so he could inspect his wounds, which had been freshly cleaned and patched up in his sleep. Then he heard the telltale sound of pills rattling in a plastic bottle.

"You found meds out there?" his brother asked, rolling the bottle around in his palm before handing it over to Nick.

"Mhm," was all he said, then watched as you looked over Nick's shoulder to read the label. Your eyes went wide with surprise then looked up at him.

Your lips parted like you wanted to say something, then your gaze darted to the other two men in the room and you decided against it.

"This probably saved you from getting sepsis," Nick said before placing the bottle on the small table next to his bed. "I'm gonna need to keep you here for a bit," and as Joel began to protest, Nick held up his hand. "Just for a bit, I said. Til you get your strength up and I feel confident you don't got any infection or serious internal damage. Then you can go home and recover."

You could see the turmoil in Joel's face. He wanted to go home, he wanted to be in the comfort of his own bed after a week of putting himself through hell.

"I'll stay here overnight, keep an eye on him and come get you if anything seems off," you said, and all three men paused to look at you in surprise. You shrugged and cleared your throat. "Unless you don't-"

"No," Joel said, cutting you off. His throat felt so tight all of the sudden. "Please stay."

Nick and Tommy exchanged glances before shifting around the room, gathering used instruments and picking up Joel's discarded, bloody clothes.

"I'll grab the cot for you," Nick said on his way out the door.

"Do you need anythin' from home?" Tommy asked and you quickly shook your head.

"I'll be fine."

Joel wanted to tell you everything, but he could feel himself fading. Another time, he thought as you rolled out the cot on the floor next to his bed. You turned off the light before he drifted off to sleep, finally being able to properly rest now that he was back with you.

It took five whole days until Nick finally agreed to let him go home. You stayed with him every night, only going back home to shower and get fresh clothes once a day. It seemed like he was always surrounded by Tommy or Ellie or Nick and there was never a good time to talk to you. He wanted to tell you why he did what he did, he wanted to give you some comfort. But any time the two of you were alone, it was always too brief or he was asleep.

Unbeknownst to Joel, you were struggling with the same issue. You wanted to get some time alone together so you could talk to him about everything you had a chance to reflect on while he was gone, but you knew it would likely be a long and emotional conversation and you really didn't want to do it at work.

There was so much that needed to be said, but the rare few minutes you had alone together you spent holding his hand or feeding him or gently wiping the sweat off his forehead and chest with a wet washcloth. You hoped your actions spoke louder than the words you weren't brave enough to say.

Nick helped you restock your first aid kit at home while Tommy got Joel settled back in his bed. You could hear them talking from the hallway, Tommy scolding his brother when he didn't listen to him and he ended up wincing in pain.

"So you're gonna want to make sure he takes this twice a day with food," Nick said, handing you a bottle of orange pills. "For inflammation. Til you run out, then he should be good. And this is only if the pain gets intolerable," he handed you a small baggie of four white pills and narrowed his eyes. "Use them sparingly, we don't have much."

"I know."

"He shouldn't need any more antibiotics but be sure to take his temperature throughout the day and push the fluids. If the numbers get over 102 for more than four hours, come get me right away."

"Okay," you nodded, hoping your sleep deprived brain was absorbing everything.

"Maria agreed to help out at the infirmary for the next couple days, so take as much time as you need. You know I can manage without you," Nick said, and you gave him a feigned look of hurt. "I can manage, I said. Doesn't mean I prefer it," he told you with a roll of his eyes and you had a stifle a laugh. Tommy stepped out of Joel's room and joined you at the top of the stairs.

"All good?"

"I think so," you said, looking back down at the pills Nick gave you.

"You need anythin', you just holler, sugar," Tommy said and you gave him a tired smile in return. The two men walked down the steps and saw themselves out while you filled a glass with water from the sink in the bathroom, bringing it to Joel.

"How are you feeling?" you asked him for what felt like the millionth time in a week.

"Not bad," he said truthfully. You handed him the water and although he wasn't thirsty, he still drank it because it seemed to make you happy and he really liked when you took care of him.

You shifted your weight and glanced around the room awkwardly.

"Do you need anything? Are you hungry? Do you want me to get you a book or something?"

Joel smiled and dropped his gaze to the floor. You were so fucking cute and it was killing him.

"I'm good."

"Good," you nodded, chewing on your bottom lip as you tried to find another reason to stay. When you couldn't think of one, you sighed and hitched your thumb over your shoudler.

"I'll be right next door and I'll leave the doors open. If you need anything or if you're in pain-"

"I know," he said, giving you a soft smile as you tried your best to not stare at his bare chest peeking out from the top of the sheets.

"Okay, then," you said, backing out of the room. "Good night."

You had no idea how long you laid in your bed, staring up at the ceiling while your mind raced and your fingers tapped anxiously against your chest. You couldn't sleep. It must have been hours because the light flicking off in Joel's room felt like ages ago and you hadn't heard any shuffling since.

It's this bed, you thought to yourself. It was the first time in a long time you slept in your own bed and you just couldn't get comfortable.

Or maybe you were too worried about him, even though it seemed like most of his strength was back. The color returned to his cheeks and he was able to stay awake most of the day. Deep down, you knew there wasn't a need to be concerned about him at that point. In all likelihood he was out of the woods. But you still felt the urge to check on him. Just in case.

You slid out of bed and tiptoed quietly out of your room, walking the few feet to Joel's door and leaning against the frame. You tried to observe him from a distance but it was hard to see in the dark, so you crept closer.

He was sound asleep, his hands resting peacefully over his soft stomach, his lips parted ever so slightly as he lightly snored. You bit the inside of your cheek and looked at the other side of the bed. Deciding not to overthink it, you closed the door and silently made your way around the foot of the bed and slipped underneath the covers with a quiet sigh.

Just for a minute, you thought. You had just grown so accustomed to sleeping in his bed, that's all. But before you knew it, his steady breathing and soft pillows lulled you into a deep sleep.

The sun bled through the curtains, inching across the floorboards and slowly made its way up the sheets until it found your face, but you didn't wake. Instead, you buried your face deeper into the warmth underneath you, far too comfortable to bother waking up just yet.

Joel, however, had been awake before the sun even rose.

He had felt your arms wrapped around his waist at some point towards the early morning. He had managed to turn so your head rested against his bare chest while you continued to sleep so peacefully. It was far too tempting. He fucking ached for you for so long and to wake up and find you in his bed caused his heart to flutter wildly in his chest and all his blood to rush directly between his legs.

He had been doing okay. He was content with just holding you, feeling you, pretending things were back to normal, if only for a little while, but when you nuzzled into his chest and tightened your grip around his waist, he couldn't resist burying his nose in your hair and breathing in deep. He missed you so much it fucking hurt. It was torture, fighting the urge to pull you into him every day and crawl into bed with you at night. He knew it would backfire one day, all his pent up emotions. When Angie caught him during a particularly low point at the Tipsy Bison, drunk and sad and missing you so fucking much, it all blew up in his face. Kissing her was a mistake but he was just so goddamn lonely. He didn't realize how much he had come to depend on your touch to soothe him until he no longer had it.

He wouldn't make that mistake ever again.

He thought he ruined everything in one moment of weakness, but here you were, tucked safely into his side, sound asleep in his arms and he didn't even dare question what brought you into his bed because all that mattered was you were there now. And you made that decision yourself. You sought him out. You wanted to be with him.

Testing the waters, he carefully pressed a kiss on the top of your head, and when you didn't react, he did it again. Sliding his eyes closed, he dragged his lips a little lower, kissing your forehead while he savored the feeling of your breath fanning over his neck. Other than your fingertips fluttering slightly against his stomach, you still didn't move, so he kissed your forehead again. You were so warm and you smelled just like him that he quickly felt himself getting lost in his desire. His kisses became faster and more urgent, finally causing your breathing to change and your body to stir. He knew you were waking but he kept his eyes closed, too afraid of seeing apathy in the face that used to be filled with such love for him.

He was just setting himself up for more heartbreak but he couldn't seem to stop.

His lips traveled a little lower, pressing tenderly against your temple, bracing himself for when you would inevitably push him away. Maybe you weren't fully awake yet because you remained perfectly still, so he continued to take and take, his kisses becoming feverish as he brushed over your eyelids. God, he missed this so much. He missed these lazy mornings with you. They were rare, but on days neither of you had any other commitments you would lounge in bed for as long as your stomachs would allow, holding each other close, getting lost under the sheets.

His time was coming to an end now. Your arms loosened around his waist and soon you would realize where you were and who you were with and it would all be over. He breathed deeply, as if he could bottle you for later. Maybe his sheets would trap your scent. He really hoped they would. He could use another good night's sleep and having you at his side had always ensured that, but he could pretend as long as his pillow still smelled like you.

With his lips still roaming over your brow, you stretched your legs and let out a breathy little noise that made his cock twitch and his stomach tense. He kept his eyes screwed shut, hoping you would assume he was half asleep and therefore unaware of his lips dragging across your face. He didn't want to lie to you again but his heart could only handle so much rejection.

He felt your eyes flutter open, your eyelashes tickling his neck and he really should have stopped kissing you at that point, but it felt like he was spiraling out of control. Like his body had enough of constantly being denied what it craved.

You paused for a moment, giving your brain a chance to catch up. Figuring out where you were and why you were there. Any second now, you would pull away. He kept bracing for it, his heart thundering in his chest now that it knew time was running out, that this feeling of bliss was about to end and it was scrambling to hold on to every split second.

Thinking it would be the last chance, he kissed the corner of your eye and then your cheek. There was no way he would be able to pretend he was still asleep now, but he didn't care. He was growing frantic, his need for you overwhelming, even if this was all he could get, it would have to sustain him until he could figure out how to earn back your trust.

His eyes flew open when your lips pressed wetly against his neck. He froze, his mouth hovering over your ear, waiting to see what you would do next.

Then you did it again. Only this time, you sucked on a bit of his skin, leaving the beginnings of a red mark he would cherish for days.

Before you could blink, he rolled over, his body caging you in underneath him as he examined you with wide and hopeful eyes. You gazed up at him, your breath shallow and your lips parted as your eyes roamed over his face, taking in every freckle and every wrinkle up close. His beard was getting grayer in spots you hadn't noticed before, somehow adding to his appeal. His lips looked dry from the cold but his eyes looked bright and clear and the way the sun was beaming in through the window behind him, his messy curls sticking up every which way made it look like he was wearing a halo.

With a shaky hand, you reached up to thread your fingers through his hair. It was so much softer than you expected. His eyes fluttered shut and he leaned into your touch. You watched his throat work as he swallowed nervously and you wanted nothing more in that moment than to taste the skin there again, so you did. Leaning up, your lips suckled at the spot between his jaw and neck, his pulse strong and fast under your tongue. A reminder that he was alive and healthy and finally back home. Your nails raked against his scalp and you sucked at his skin a little harder, a little more urgently, a little more desperately and then he was the first to break.

He whimpered.

He fucking whimpered and that was all it took for you to maneuver slightly under him and spread your legs, wrapping them around his waist and pulling him close.

Fuck. He was hard. You felt it in the loose confines of his sweatpants, bobbing against your center when you pulled him down further and it set something on fire inside of you.

You brought your other hand up to get lost in his hair, giving it a tug to pull his head back just a bit so you could angle your mouth over his and you latched onto him hungrily, the contact sending a jolt through your entire body. He slipped his tongue past your teeth and finally allowed himself to touch you, hand cupping your jaw at first, then dropping to grip your ass under the sheets before sliding up your shirt, rough fingers skating up your stomach, then brushing over your tightened nipples, drawing out a sweet little moan which he swallowed down eagerly.

He flattened his hand over your heart, leaving it there as he licked into your mouth, both your jaws pried open as far as they could go, as if you were trying to swallow the other whole. He could feel your heart pounding through your chest, like it was trying to break free and jump into his palm. Like it was saying here, take me, I'm yours. And if you were to untangle your hands from his hair and place one over his own racing heart, he had no doubt you would hear what it was screaming in his chest.

I love you, I love you, I love you so fucking much, I'm so sorry, please forgive me.

And of course you forgave him. He was in just as much pain as you. Both of you had been mourning the same person without even realizing it.

And none of that seemed to matter anymore. Not in that moment, anyway. The two of you tangled together, the early morning glow from the sun washing over you, wrapping you up safe and sound in each other's arms.

You dropped your hands, abandoning his hair, nails dragging over his broad shoulders and leaving little red trails in their wake. His own hand slid down from your chest to grab your hip, pulling you impossibly closer to him, forcing you to feel how hard he was for you. All for you.

His facial hair burned your chin but you didn't mind. In fact, it felt good. You chased the feeling, pushing your mouth even harder against him, wanting to make sure you would feel that burn for the rest of the day.

Then you heard a knock on the front door.

Joel didn't react.

Either too lost in the moment or unwilling to allow it to end. Your hands drifted lower, over his relatively smooth chest and over his ribs, your fingertips dancing over each one like piano keys, careful to avoid his wound.

Another knock, louder now, made you pause. Breaking free and turning your head slightly to the side to open your eyes, you tried to listen, but Joel's mouth just slid down your jaw, nipping playfully as he went before biting gently on your earlobe. You gasped softly, momentarily forgetting about the door, your back arching underneath him. His tongue flattened against the hollow of your exposed throat, his exhale tickled your skin and caused a wave of goosebumps to emerge and he smirked, tongue still lavishing your neck as his fingers dug harder into your hip, like he was afraid to let you go.

Now you heard the front door unlock and carelessly swing open, but Joel still didn't stop.

"Joel," you whispered, your voice raspy from disuse. He only hummed in response, then his mouth latched onto your clothed breast, his tongue flicking against the thin material and you had to bite your lip to keep from crying out because you heard Ellie's voice now, along with Tommy's, making their way up the stairs.

"Joel!" you said, firmer this time and pushing him back. His dark eyes snapped up to yours, his parted lips wet and swollen as he gasped for air. Thankfully, it sounded like they had tried the master bedroom first. You heard Tommy's heavy steps enter your bathroom before walking back out into the hall and it finally clicked with Joel that you were no longer alone.

"Fuck," he muttered right before the door swung open. He dropped his upper body to cover yours best he could, protecting your modesty even though you were still fully clothed.

"Shit! Sorry!" Tommy exclaimed, backing out of the room. You squeezed your eyes shut as embarrassment flooded your veins, tucking your face into Joel's neck to hide.

"What-" you heard Ellie say from the hall, then the door slammed shut, leaving just you and Joel. The two of you stayed frozen, his body still pinning yours into the mattress under the covers, legs still wrapped around his waist as you listened to Tommy and Ellie's hushed voices trail down the stairs.

"Fuck," he sighed again, dropping his head against your shoulder.

Your heart fluttered in your chest as the both of you slowly regained your senses. Your hands drifted lightly over his back as he nuzzled into your neck, and you were perfectly content to remain just like that, but unfortunately he pushed himself up on his elbows with a sigh.

"I should go see what he wants," he murmured, giving you a heated look that told you talking to his brother was the last thing he wanted to do.

"Okay," you squeaked, feeling your cheeks warm under his gaze. He looked like he wanted to say something else but decided against it and instead sat up with a grunt. You pulled the covers back over you, the cool morning air prickling your skin now that you didn't have his body heat to keep you warm, and watched as he fumbled around the room for a discarded shirt. When his back was turned, he tried to subtly tuck his throbbing cock into his waistband, but you noticed and bit back a grin. Secretly, you were grateful for the interruption. As much as you wanted him, you needed to take things slow.

He walked down the stairs, his pace slower than usual as he favored his side with the wound. When his eyes met Tommy's in the kitchen, he saw the flash of guilt across his face for interrupting what was shaping up to be a really good fucking morning.

"Sorry," he said again, glancing quickly at the back of Ellie's head as she rummaged through the pantry for something to eat, completely oblivious to what they almost walked in on. "The kid let me in."

"Yeah, I got that," Joel grumbled as he made his way to the coffee maker and flipped the switch.

"Hey Joel, can I take this?" Ellie held up a box of granola bars and he nodded. She ripped into one and practically shoved half of it into her mouth. "How's it feel to be back home?" she asked with a mouthful of sticky oats. Joel made a disgusted face at the visual and she smirked at his reaction.

"Good," was all he said, turning away before the heat crept up his neck. It felt really fucking good to be home. "So what's goin' on?" he asked Tommy, who was leaning up against the kitchen sink.

"Couple of guys found some tracks this mornin'," Tommy began, and the hairs on the back of Joel's neck stood up.

"Tracks?" you questioned as you appeared in the doorway in a fresh set of clothes. Joel tried not to let his gaze linger on you, noting with a sick sense of pride that your neck still looked a little pink from his mouth, but it was hard. He should have just stayed in bed with you.

"Doesn't look like a big group," he said as Joel's face fell. "It ain't your fault-"

"They followed me here, Tommy," Joel rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes.

"We'll handle it," Tommy replied calmly while you and Ellie sat down silently at the table to listen. "Shit was bound to happen sooner or later."

"Goddamnit," Joel growled angrily under his breath. "I shoulda been more careful. Stupid fuckin'-"

"Joel, you were passed out on the back of a horse," Tommy reasoned, "it's a miracle you even made it back at all. The tracks were a few miles south, I'm gonna get a group together later this mornin' and see what we can find."

"I'll go with you," he said but before Tommy could respond, you piped up.

"No, you're not."

Joel twisted around, taking in the alarmed look on your face. He held your gaze for a moment, your eyes pleading with him. Please don't. I just got you back. He immediately caved.

"Okay," he agreed, and you visibly relaxed with a smile. You desperately wanted to go to him, pull him close and thank him for listening to you, but your audience held you back.

Ellie glanced between the two of you with a knowing grin, finally sensing the change in the room.

"I wasn't lookin' for volunteers, anyway," Tommy said, breaking the heavy silence and pushing off the counter. "Just comin' by to tell you what's goin' on. We're headin' out in an hour, I'll stop by later and let you know what we find."

The coffee maker beeped and Joel grabbed two mugs from the cupboard. "Be careful out there," he told his brother as Tommy slid on his boots and swung open the door. "Don't do anythin' stupid."

"That's rich, comin' from you," he replied with a chuckle and Ellie snorted. Joel shot him a glare before he left, pouring coffee into each of your mugs. He took a grateful sip before bringing yours to the table and sat down. The both of you sipped your coffees in silence, eyes glued to the table while trying to ignore the obvious tension building. Ellie began to connect the dots and stood up.

"I should get going," she announced.

"You don't have to-"

"Stay and warm up a bit-"

She cut you both off. "I got shit to do. Homework and all that," she said, lying through her teeth as she headed for her boots. "Don't worry, I'll lock it behind me," she teased, slipping out the front door while your cheeks burned hot with embarrassment.

"Jesus," you muttered and Joel had to hold back a laugh. He stared down at his coffee, the mug now half filled with the dark, steaming liquid as he struggled to come up with something to say. There was so much he didn't even know where to start.

"Oh! Your meds!" you exclaimed, jumping up from your chair to retrieve the little orange pills Nick gave you the night before. "He said you need to take these with food. Let me make you something," you told him while you shuffled around pots and pans, looking for anything to keep yourself busy.

He sat back in his chair and watched you move around the kitchen with ease. Pulling oatmeal out of the pantry, measuring it out, boiling the pot with water.

You looked nervous. The thought made him smile. He made you nervous.

Right as you turned the burner off and grabbed a bowl you felt his hands circle your hips. You sighed and couldn't resist melting against him, closing your eyes for a moment and resting the back of your head against his shoulder while he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

"Thank you," he whispered while pressing a chaste kiss behind your ear.

"It's just oatmeal," you whispered back. He swallowed and shook his head before planting another kiss in the same spot.

"No, it's not."

You knew what he was trying to say and it made your heart swell. Thank you for taking care of me. Thank you for giving me a chance. Thank you for staying. Thank you for saving my life. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

"You're welcome," you replied, your voice wavering a bit as you turned around in his arms. You laced your fingers together behind his neck and gazed up at him, examining every wrinkle and scar, fighting the urge to kiss each and every one.

"I love you," he said softly while his thumbs tucked underneath the hem of your shirt, searching for any bit of your soft skin he could find. "I know you can't say it back yet and that's okay. I just really needed to tell you."

You blinked back your tears and nodded, pulling him down to your level and slotting your lips together once again. He sighed as his shoulders relaxed and for the first time everything just felt right so you tentatively flicked your tongue over his lower lip. You felt him smile before he allowed you to deepen the kiss, your tongue slowly and deeply massaging his as he pulled your body closer, pressing you firmly against him.

A deep groan rumbled from his chest when you raked your fingers through his hair, your knees practically buckling at the sound. He walked you backwards until you felt the counter pressing against your back, his kisses growing hungrier and his fingers gripping your hips tighter.

"Your food's getting cold," you mumbled, turning your face towards the oatmeal cooling on the stove.

"Don't care," he said, his lips grazing over your throat. He missed you so much and now that he finally had you, he couldn't get enough. When he dropped to his knees, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your jeans and his mouth ghosting over the apex of your thighs, you gasped and grabbed his hair, stopping him.

"I-I'm not ready for all that yet," you admitted as the warmth of embarrassment flooded your cheeks and chest. "I'm sorry, I know you've been waiting for so long-"

"Shh, it's okay," he said sincerely, then stood back up with a grunt. He cupped your face and gave you a gentle kiss. "I can wait. I'll wait forever, I don't care," he still cradled your jaw as he nuzzled his nose alongside yours.

"This is all I ever want, anyway," he whispered, and you smiled.

It was the first day of your fresh start.

Nick had offered you time off to care for Joel but it quickly became apparent as the day went on that he was doing far better than any of you expected.

He only had a little trouble going up the stairs so the two of you spent the rest of the day in the living room. You had thought he was going to try and nap so you busied yourself with a book, his head resting in your lap as your fingers absentmindedly carded through his curls while you read on the couch, the fire crackling next to you. It wasn't until you lifted your hand to flip a page when you noticed his eyes on you and you grinned.

"I thought you were going to try and sleep?"

"Not very tired," he replied, gently reaching up for your wrist and putting your hand back in his hair. "Feels real nice," he explained. You put your book face down, the spine spread open to hold your place, and began playing with his hair again.

"Joel?"

"Hm?"

"Did you go to my parents' house?"

Shit. In all the chaos since arriving back in Jackson he never had a chance to tell you.

"Yes," he said, staring up at you from your lap, watching as the shadow from the flames danced across your face.

"Is that where it happened?" you asked, your eyes traveling to the side where he was stabbed. He nodded and you sniffled, dropping your gaze to the floor. "I thought so. Because of the pills," you said quietly, "my name was on the bottle."

"I know," he replied, watching as your eyes clouded with guilt. He frowned. "What's wrong?"

"You got hurt because of me," you said, lower lip trembling. "If I hadn't been so immature we could've talked about it but instead I pushed you away and you almost died trying to prove a point-"

"Hey," he cut you off and sat up next to you, "it's not your fault, don't you dare think that, alright?" He cupped your face but you still refused to meet his eye. "I fucked up. It was on me, okay? I fucked up with Angie and I fucked up out there."

"You could've died," you said, two tears trickling down your cheeks. He wiped them away with his thumbs.

"But I didn't."

You took in a shaky breath and finally looked at him. "Don't do something like that ever again," you told him, an undercurrent of anger in your voice, and he smirked.

"Yes, ma'am."

He dropped his hold on your face and leaned back, stretching his arm across the top of the couch. "Can't deny it got results, though," he teased after a moment and you shot him a glare but he could see you biting back a smile. You picked up your book, leaning into his shoulder just a bit as you continued to read and he stared into the fire, his mind still reeling to catch up with how fast things changed. It felt like a dream.

"What did you go there for, anyway?"

Joel rolled his eyes. "It sounds so stupid now."

You put your book back down and twisted to face him. "I'm sure it's not."

With a groan, Joel pushed himself up from the couch and began to rummage through his backpack, which remained idle next to the door since the day before. You tucked your legs underneath you and watched curiously.

When he pulled out a familiar looking binder, a faded beige color with a black trim, you could have sworn your heart stopped.

"I wanted to give you somethin' that you would recognize. Somethin' that felt like home," he began, holding it out to you. "Maybe bring you some comfort or... I don't know. Like I said, it sounds stupid now."

"No," you whispered as you carefully took the album from his hands. "Not stupid, Joel." You pursed your lips as you stared at the cover, your fingertips gently skirting over the fabric. Your family was right in your lap. So many wonderful memories... right fucking there.

The tears welled up without warning and began to pour down your cheeks.

"Are you okay?" he asked, and you nodded.

"Yeah," you said, laughing through the tears. "You... you gave me my family back, Joel. How-" your voice cracked and you averted your gaze, doing your best to compose yourself but you knew it was no use. "How could you think this was stupid? This is everything to me."

He gave you a shy smile and shrugged. "Then it was worth it."

He had been listening to you for the better part of an hour as you walked him through each photo in the album and his only regret was he wasn't able to stay long enough in California to find more pictures. He loved hearing you talk about your family, about your childhood, about everything you loved. The look on your face and the tone of your voice was all he ever wanted. You were so fucking happy, so content and at ease that he knew without a doubt if he had to go through it all over again, he would do it in a heartbeat.

"Oh my god, so this was taken the day Matty tried to teach me to surf," you said with a giggle, dragging his eyes from your face to a picture of you and your brother on the beach in wetsuits. "He had learned in college because he went to school on the coast. I told you that, right?"

"Yep," he said with a warm smile.

"Anyway, it went as well as you could imagine. I have no coordination whatsoever. I fell, like, every single time, no matter how small the wave... Oh! This must have been his graduation," you said, pointing to the next photo of the four of you all dressed up in front of a regal looking building. "He was so smart, Joel. He was going to be a chemist. Who does that? Who majors in Chemistry? I absolutely hated chem," you said with a shake of your head. Your eyes hadn't stopped shining since you opened the album and the smile never left your face. Your gaze softened and you quieted down as you stared down lovingly at the pictures, your fingers tracing over them delicately. Occasionally you would tell him a story and other times you would grow quiet and thoughtful. He sat by your side and just listened, letting you work through your feelings and memories at your own pace.

"I miss them so much," you eventually said softly.

"I know," he replied, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

"Thank you, Joel," you said, voice thick with emotion when you turned to look at him. Your eyes were wide and wet with unshed tears, and he saw your throat bob when you swallowed tightly. "This means so much to me, I don't know how to put it into words."

"You're welcome, baby," he told you. He pinched your chin and leaned in to kiss you when a sharp knock sounded from the door.

He stood with a frustrated huff and you hid your smile, setting the photo album down on the sofa next to you.

"Hey, come in," Joel said once he opened the door. Tommy stepped through and shrugged off his coat, locking eyes and giving you a nod. "What'd you find?"

"There were only four. Two of 'em were half frozen and the other two didn't have much fight in 'em."

You made a face and looked away as Joel led Tommy into the kitchen.

"Who were they?" Joel asked, and you heard the telltale sound of liquid pouring from a bottle. You stood and made your way towards the kitchen.

"Don't know," Tommy admitted, tossing back the whiskey. Joel gave him a refill right as you were entering the room. "We questioned the two that were conscious but they didn't give us much. Said they were alone. Said they were part of a bigger group that got picked off."

"The men I killed?" Joel asked, brow furrowed as he took a sip of whiskey.

"They didn't say, but they did tell us a few of their guys were out scavenging and never made it back, so maybe."

Joel nodded and you leaned against the doorframe, crossing your arms.

"You think they were tellin' the truth? That there ain't any more of 'em?"

Tommy shrugged. "Didn't have reason to think otherwise. We scoured the area. Couldn't find any other tracks-"

"But the snow coulda covered it up," Joel offered anxiously. He scratched his chin, staring blankly at the floor while the gears turned in his head. "They probably followed the horse tracks and when the snow got to be too much, they lost their way. They were comin' for me, Tommy."

For some reason it never occurred to you that those men were looking for revenge. It sent a shiver down your spine.

"Or they were just lookin' for someplace warm. You don't know, Joel. Besides, it don't matter now. It's dealt with."

Joel didn't look convinced but he kept his mouth shut, for your sake. He could tell he was worrying you and he had already put you through enough as it was.

"Listen, I oughta get back to Maria. I'm sure she's got her hands full," Tommy said after a brief silence. He handed Joel his empty glass and shot you a look. "Don't worry, sugar. We got this under control."

You gave him a tight smile and moved out of his way so he could gather his things.

"Thank you," you told him quietly while Joel rinsed out their glasses.

His eyes flicked up to yours as he laced up his boots. "Don't mention it. Ain't nothin' bad gonna happen, I promise."

You wished his words brought you some comfort but you couldn't shake the nagging voice in the back of your head.

"C'mon. Why don't you show me more pictures," Joel urged once Tommy was on his way. It was clear he was trying to get your mind off things.

"Actually, I think I'm gonna go to bed," you told him. He was in the middle of picking up your photo album when he paused and glanced up. His eyes scanned your face, clocking the anxiety you were trying to hide. He could tell you still felt responsible, even though he had insisted what happened wasn't your fault, and now the raiders following him back into the mountains just made matters worse.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," you replied, your voice sounding more confident as you tried to shrug off the bad feeling Tommy left. Your eyes flickered to his awkwardly. "Do you... need help getting up the stairs?"

He frowned and shook his head, too lost in his own head to pick up on what you were too nervous to really ask. "I'll be alright. Go get some rest, I'm gonna stay up for a bit."

After you went to bed, he tried to distract himself from the possibility he put the entire town, but more importantly, you, at risk. He poured another glass of whiskey and picked up a book, but he found himself rereading the same paragraph over and over for half an hour.

What a stupid fucking thing to do. He pinched the bridge of his nose, kicking himself for being so careless. Maybe he could convince you tomorrow to let him go out with Tommy. He trusted his brother, but he knew he would feel better if he explored the area himself. He knew he had to be careful. He made so much progress with you, he couldn't risk fucking that up, either, and based on the way you looked at him earlier, it was clear the prospect of him leaving Jackson again so soon scared you.

Warmth bloomed in his chest and the corners of his lips twitched into a smile. The idea of you scared didn't please him, but scared for him? Well, that was different.

The way he woke up that morning still felt like a dream. Your arms wrapped around him, your face nuzzled into his shoulder, your scent invading his senses. It felt strange for a split second until his memories came flooding back from a time when he woke up like that every single day and he foolishly wondered if you had finally remembered. Once you opened your eyes he knew instantly you hadn't, but somehow he was even more excited that someone as perfect as you found your way into his bed twice.

Bed.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes before tossing back the rest of his whiskey. He was procrastinating now, tending to the fire one last time before dragging himself back to his empty bed. How was he going to sleep when he knew you were right in the next room? God, what he wouldn't give to curl up in bed with you.

He froze, the poker hovering in the air halfway towards the fire as he thought back to your words when you went to bed, now hours ago.

Do you need help getting up the stairs?

You sounded a little strange but at the time he just chalked it up to Tommy's news about the raiders. When you asked if he needed help, were you trying to get him to come up and sleep with you?

"Oh, you fuckin' idiot," he growled to himself under his breath before slotting the poker back in the stand. Was it too late?

He crept quietly up the steps, hoping to see your light on under your door but unfortunately, your room was dark. Shit.

Changing into his sweatpants, he mentally chastised himself for being so goddamn thick and missing his opportunity to go to bed with you. After he washed up, he paced around his room, anxiously chewing his nail and wondering what he should do. Should he just go to sleep? Should he slip into your bed the way you did the night before? Would you be upset if he did?

Just when he thought he was about to wear a hole into the thin carpet he heard a light tapping on his bedroom door. He froze and held his breath, wondering if he imagined it until he heard it again.

He rushed to the door and whipped it open where he found you standing in the hallway wearing a thin T-shirt and sweatpants of your own. You didn't look like you had just woken up, your eyes didn't look like they were clouded with sleep. You were waiting for him.

Your gaze darted quickly over his bare chest, like you were trying not to look but couldn't help yourself. His cock twitched, excited by the notion that you could be fighting your own arousal, same as him.

"Can I stay with you?" you asked, your voice impossibly small and fuck, his heart squeezed in his chest at how sweet you were in that moment.

"Yeah," he breathed, hoping he didn't sound as desperate as he felt. He widened the door and stepped aside, watching as you slipped past him and curled up underneath his sheets.

Neither of you said a word. He just flicked off the light and slid into bed beside you, turning onto his side and pulling you against him. His face nuzzled the back of your neck and his arms wrapped around your waist and he heard you sigh. He held you close and with tears in his eyes whispered how sorry he was, how he would never hurt you again, how he was weak and stupid and he loved you so much.

You didn't say much in return. Just the occasional nod or sniffle or squeeze of his hand in acknowledgement.

All of the stress and anguish from the past several months were the furthest things from both your minds as you fell asleep that night, each of you finally assured that everything was going to be okay.

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sturniqlo · 4 days

Text

Motherly Instincts- M.S

summary: mom!y/n has trouble putting the baby back to sleep, dad!matt sees that's she's getting overwhelmed and near the edge of breaking down. BLURB

cw: slight cursing, ANGST; crying, being overwhelmed, postpartum depression, FLUFF; soft kisses, reassurance, comforting

an: i tried my best to not use a name for the baby but i kept getting confused when i used the baby and y/n in a sentence so i chose a random name | lowercase intended | a continuation(?) to spilled water

masterlist | mia masterlist | join my taglist

-----------------------------------------------

"got the baby back to sleep?" matt asked and opened his arms back up for y/n to crawl into him. "mhm." she hums, and snugs herself into his arms. he wraps his arm around her shoulder and she leans her head on his chest. y/n's eyes keep going back and forth between the movie playing on the television in front of them and the baby monitor that sits on the coffee table.

"hey, she's okay, i promise you. i'm sure she's fast asleep by now." he whispers and places a kiss on her forehead. "i know, but what if her swaddles comes undone. or what if it's too tight?" she bites the inside of her cheek, worrying.

matt frowns slightly, for the past couple of weeks, y/n hasn't really been herself. she's more quiet, she gets irritated quickly, she only interacts with the baby when it's necessary "i just- she's so fragile, you know?" is her excuse.

in reality, everything is right. y/n has been trying so hard to create a bond with her baby girl. she's tried so hard but, there's something inside of her- almost like a voice- telling her that she isn't fit to be a mother, that her baby doesn't like her. she sees how matt and his brothers have a bond with her own baby, who she grew for nine months. it gets to her.

y/n always has to excuse herself and cry in the bathroom when she sees her baby crack a smile with someone who isn't her, or when mia isn't fussy when someone is carrying her. there has been multiple occasions where mia doesn't let y/n carry her and she squirms in her arms but, when she's given to matt, she isn't fussy anymore. it breaks y/n's heart.

2:36am

the clock on y/ns nightstand reads. the speakers of the baby monitor begin to fill the room with the wails of baby mia. she mutes the monitor so matt won't wake up. swinging her legs over the bed, she puts her slippers on and walks to the door to leave the room. entering the nursery, the cries only get louder. she goes to the crib and sees that her pacifier had fallen next to her small head.

"hi, baby. mommy's here." she whispers, she carefully picks her up in her arms and grabs the pacifier and tries to put it back in her mouth. mia takes it and y/n sighs in relief. she cradles her for a couple more seconds until she sees the babys face churn in discomfort, the pacifier coming out of her mouth and hitting the floor, cries fill the room again.

"oh no, let's get this cleaned up." she tries to stay calm and squats down to pick up the pacifier. before she heads down she places mia down on the changing table and undos the swaddle. "do you need a diaper change, is that it?" her shaky hands unclip the onesie and starts to take off the diaper.

cleaning her up and changing her into a new diaper, her cries don't stop. y/n feels a lump start to form in her throat and she blinks her tears away. "are you hungry, baby? let's get you a bottle." she puts her back in her arms and grabs the pacifier so she can clean it while she's downstairs.

y/n runs one of her frozen breast milk pouches under warm water and proceeds to pour it into a bottle once it's warm and melted, however with a crying baby in her left arm, and a shaky right hand, the bottle falls on its side and the pouch of milk slips from her grip. "shit." she curses and a tear slips down her face. "i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm sorry." she tells the crying baby in her arm. grabbing a different frozen pouch she manages to pour all of it into the small bottle.

putting the nipple of the bottle into the babys mouth, she refuses and her cries get louder. y/n tries not more time and mia takes it for a couple of seconds and repeats what she previously did with the pacifier. y/n places the bottle down next to the spilled milk and cleans the pacifier before heading back up into the nursery.

she moves side to side patting the baby lightly on the bottom, trying to soothe her to sleep. "i- i don't know what you want." she whispers, looking down at the baby's blue eyes that resembles matt's so much. however, these pair of eyes are sad and leaking tears.

in their shared room, matt flips over and tries to put an arm around y/n. he feels the spot empty and cold, waking up and sitting up he begins to come conscious of his surroundings and hears the cries of his baby. his bare feet meet the cold wooden floor and he heads out the room into the nursery where he sees y/n wiping tears from her eyes and hears the wails of the baby.

"babe, what's going on?" his raspy voice says. y/n looks up and sees matt standing there. "she's- i don't- she won't stop crying, i don't know what she wants. i've- i've tried everything, she won't stop, matt." his heart aches at her quivering voice. "it's okay, let me have her." matt walks closer to his two girls and y/n hands mia to him.

once the baby is in matt's arms, her cries stop. this makes y/n's eyes well up even more. "hey, why don't you go to our room, i'll be there in a sec, okay?" he grabs her jaw and kisses her forehead. "o- okay." she nods. as bad as it sounds, matt wished that she hadn't stopped crying right away in his arms. he saw the way y/n's eyes welled up again. he wished it would've taken him some time to get the baby to calm down.

y/n remembers of the mess downstairs and heads down to the kitchen. wiping both the milk and her tears, she hears matt coming down the stairs and she turns around. "hey, is she- is she asleep?" she says, trying her best to smile. "yeah, here, i'll clean this up." matt grabs the napkins from her and he cleans it up. "is it okay if i go back up?" y/n asks.

"of course, i'll be right up." matt turns around and nods at her. matt waits a couple of minutes before going back upstairs so y/n can have a moment to herself.

"you okay?" matt says as he closes the third bedroom door. y/n places the baby monitor back down on her nightstand after unmuting it and turns around to matt's voice. "am i a good mom?" she blurts out and sits on the edge of the bed. "what? of course you are. you're the best. why do you ask?" he goes to sit next to her. "i feel like i'm not. i mean, mia doesn't even like me. she doesn't let me hold her whenever i just want to. i cant even put her to sleep when she wakes up. i- you put her straight to sleep by just carrying her, i can't do that." she cries into matt.

"y/n, baby, you're the best mom ever." matt says and she shakes her head. "matt, you're not listening to me, i can't- i'm- i'm not good enough. i don't have motherly instincts. i'm- i'm the worst."

matt shakes his head and gently grabs her face in his hands. "baby, believe me when i say this. you are the best mommy for mia. did you change her diaper just now?" he asks and she nods. "did you make her a bottle?" she nods. "did you give her, her pacifier?" she nods again. "did you go to her when you heard her crying?" she nods. "see, you do have motherly instincts, my love. nobody told you what to do, you just did it." he smiles at her. "please, believe me, babe."

"and, it's okay if we can't figure it out right away. we're first time parents, of course it's going to be hard. we're learning." her cries have now turned into sniffles. matt wipes away the last of her tears and kisses her nose, making her giggle lightly.

"feelin' better?" matt murmurs against her hair. they had moved from sitting on the edge of the bed to matt cuddling her, kissing her hair from time to time. "much better. thank you, babe. i- i think i have postpartum depression." she whispers the last part. "oh." he says. "i want to get help, i don't want to feel like this anymore. i want to enjoy these moment with her. she's not going to be this little for so long." she looks up at him.

"you get all the help you need. i'll be with you every step of the way, alright? me and mia will be right next to you." she smiles at his words and he presses a soft kiss to his lips. "thank you." there's a beat of silence until matt speaks. "please don't ever say that she won't be this little for so long. one moment she needs us to change her diaper and next thing you know, i'm walking her down the aisle." y/n gasps. "okay, let's not go that far. she's not even two months old yet."

"you're right."

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theemporium · 6 months

Text

[4.9k] things start to feel real as luke’s rookie season in the nhl officially begins. but maybe it’s not as bad as he thought. and maybe those good vibes will follow him off the ice too. (smut)

series masterlist

“You look like shit.”

“I feel like shit.”

Your smile widened as you pulled the door open further, letting the boy shuffle inside with a small wince at the bright sun shining through your windows. The hood of his jumper was thrown over his head, his curls a mess and his eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses he stole from Jack’s room after he woke up.

It wasn’t the best state for you to see him but, truthfully, that was not his biggest concern at the moment.

A few months away from college and he almost forgot what a bad influence his friends could be when it came to drinking. There was a vague memory somewhere around the fifth round of shots where Luke was pretty sure Nico tried to get them to drink some water, but it was pointless when Ethan found another bottle of tequila and insisted they had to drink it before it went to waste.

And, to Luke’s drunken mind, that sounded like the most logical solution.

He was honestly surprised the three of them had managed to wake up early enough to catch the plane back to Michigan. They had woken him up to say goodbye, muttering something about afternoon practice and other things that Luke vaguely remembered before he fell back asleep for a few hours.

Luke was pretty sure he was still drunk when he woke up a second time to the sound of Jack blasting music in the kitchen.

Somewhere between his annoying brother and the lingering anxiety that followed with the hangover as result of the night before, Luke found himself at a local bakery to grab some goods before he stopped over at your place, not even thinking to message you beforehand (if he even knew where his phone was).

“But you don’t smell shit so that’s a plus,” you noted as you shut the door behind him before taking pity on his state, dragging the curtains shut again whilst Luke muttered his thanks under his breath.

“I think I bought half the bakery,” Luke admitted with a sheepish expression as he extended the bag towards you. “I asked for every cherry based thing they owned, which surprisingly isn’t much.” He paused for a moment. “Maybe I should have tried another bakery.”

You laughed, brows raised in question. “I’m surprised you can stomach anything right now.”

“Oh, I can’t,” Luke said, his nose scrunching up in disgust like the idea made him feel nauseous. It did, if he was being honest. It was bad enough he almost threw up after Jack made him chug some water. “These were…well, they were the start of an apology.”

You tilted your head to the side.

“For…abandoning you in my room after everything,” he continued, his cheeks heating up. Because apparently no matter how much he drank the night before, he remembered well enough that he was a bit of a dick with how he ran off with his friends. “It was a shitty move. And it was shitty for me to make you hide under the bed.”

“That did throw me off,” you admitted, though there was a slight teasing tilt to your voice. “Although, your bed was surprisingly clean under there. No plates growing mould or other questionable diseases.”

Luke scoffed a little. “I’m not a slob.”

You shot him a look.

“I’m not that much of a slob,” Luke corrected, grumbling under his breath before he let out a sigh. “You know, you are making this apology a lot harder than I imagined it being.”

“Probably doesn’t help that you’re hungover as fuck,” you teased, but you took the baked good from him. You peaked inside, noting just how much he had actually bought and something warm twisted in your stomach. “You really didn’t have to. It wasn’t that big of a deal, Luke.”

“But it was to me,” he murmured, a crease forming between his eyebrows. “I…I shouldn’t have done that. Like, don’t get me wrong, I love my friends. And I know they wouldn’t judge me but…”

“Hey,” you stepped forward, reaching out to gently touch him. “It’s fine, I promise. This was a part you hid from them for so long and it freaked you out. I get it.”

“I’m not embarrassed by you,” he blurted out, because apparently he has no filter or control over the words leaving his mouth. “Just in case you thought that. Because I’m not. The boys would probably love you but like—”

“You just don’t want them asking questions,” you finished for him, watching as the boy shyly nodded his head. “You don’t have to explain yourself but thank you, anyways. And thank you for the pastries.”

“Right,” he cleared his throat, nodding a little. “Well, I–”

“Go lay down,” you said, a smile growing on your face when his shoulders slumped in relief. “I wasn’t lying when I said you looked like shit. The fact you are even awake before noon is shocking, to be honest.”

“Thank you,” he sighed in relief as he made his way towards your couch, his feet shuffling against the floor. “If I had to go back and listen to Jack blast his obnoxious playlists, I would have died.”

You snorted. “Aw, baby is facing his first, proper hangover outside of cheap college vodka.”

He pulled his sunglasses off to glare at you. “Ha. Ha. Ha.”

“Lie down,” you prompted as you gently pushed him a step forward. “We can nap on the couch. I’ll even show you the trick to hangovers.”

He raised his brows. “It’s not gonna be some weird shit like drinking raw egg yolks, is it?”

“I was going to offer head scratches but if you want raw eggs—”

“No!”

You grinned. “That’s what I thought.”

…

The thing about playing with the team during playoffs was that, as amazing as it was, they did get knocked out and the whole thing felt fairly short-lived.

Don’t get him wrong, it was still a surreal experience. Hockey had been a constant in his life, something that always felt familiar and welcoming no matter where he was. It had felt as recognisable and comforting to him as his family was.

But to know he had made it? To know he was skating and playing and wearing the jersey of an NHL team?

It brought a new thrill to hockey he had never expected, but basked in, nonetheless. It added an extra layer, an extra kick that college hockey could never compete with. It made him feel like everything was worth it, that everything worked out and his dreams aligned with the stars and—fuck, he was making his debut in the National Hockey League.

But as fast as it came, it went.

And then summer happened.

And he was distracted by long nights in Michigan summer heat and cool beers and boat rides that made him feel like nothing else existed beyond the lakehouse. It felt like he was just a normal guy, spending the summer break with his brothers and his friends and pretending like life was always this easy.

It was his last thread to normalcy before his life fully changed.

And then he was moving to Jersey, his belongings packed into boxes and cases as he moved in with Jack for the first time since his brother was drafted. He spent days being paraded around his new city, trying to feel familiar in the unfamiliar apartment, trying to bond with a team that had been together long before his arrival.

It was confusing and exciting and baffling and scary. Every emotion a person could experience, Luke had felt tenfold since he had started preseason training. He felt like he was stumbling through a life that wasn’t his, trying to catch up and get a hold of himself.

Then, in a blink of an eye, he was about to step out for his first official game of his rookie year in the NHL.

And, for some stupid reason, he was far more nervous than he had been for the playoff games.

There wasn’t a pressure on him during the playoffs, not really. People were letting mistakes slide, willing to look over things because it was his first time stepping foot onto the ice for an NHL team. He knew he technically had that luxury now too, that he was a rookie and he was allowed to use this year to find his footing.

But it was hard to remember he was a rookie when everyone and everything kept reminding him he was the third Hughes brother. He wasn’t just a normal rookie or young kid starting out their career in the big leagues. He was the third brother to try and live up to an insane standard his brothers have set, he had to prove he wasn’t a bust who only got here because of his name.

Luke felt more than ever that he had to prove he belonged, that he deserved to have his spot and his place in the team. That he was more than just his surname and the connotations it brought.

He had to prove—

cherry🍒: break a leg or whatever they say in hockey

cherry🍒: actually wait

cherry🍒: don’t break a leg, that would be pretty shit for you

cherry🍒: feel like it would be pretty useful to skate with two unbroken legs

cherry🍒: what i am trying to say is good luck!

And, in a silly way, he knew it was stupid. He shouldn’t need to hear someone else say something, to try and reassure him. Jack had tried a few times to prompt the conversation as game day approached. A few of the other guys had tried too. Hell, even Quinn had called him to try and give him a pep talk.

But, in the nicest way he could put it, it felt meaningless when it came from people he felt like needed to say it.

They needed to believe in him.

You didn’t.

Fuck, you didn’t even know a single thing about the sport. You didn’t understand the significance of his last name in the sport. You didn’t understand just how intense the next year of his life was about to be. You didn’t understand a single thing that the other people in his life had been trying to reassure him over.

And, for some reason that was beyond Luke’s own understanding, that was what he needed.

He needed that unwavering, unbreakable faith from someone who didn’t have to support him. You weren’t his family. You weren’t his teammate. You weren’t a fan. You had no reason to lie to him, to sugarcoat your words and fluff away his worries. You had no reason to believe in him other than the fact you just did.

And it was what he needed.

It was what he needed minutes before the game was due to start, the clock ticking to puck drop and his eyes lingering on your messages before he had to get up and head out to the ice.

He needed you.

…

They won the first game of the season.

And then, because the person in the league who was organising the game schedule decided they wanted to try and test them this early on, they played their second game the next night.

And they won that one too.

It was surreal, to be fucking frank. It was a kind of buzz that Luke had never experienced before, not in hockey at least.

Winning was always great, regardless of what age or what league you were playing in. Truthfully, he didn’t think anything would beat the thrill college hockey gave him. His attachment to the boys on his team, the adrenaline of the win pumping through him as he basked in the cheering crowd.

He thought that was his peak. He thought that was the best it would ever get.

And then he joined the NHL.

There was something about wearing the jersey, about knowing that they had thousands of fans watching the game. There was something about skating straight towards his big brother and feeling Jack scream in his ear as they were crowded by the other boys. There was something about knowing this had been his dream since he was a kid, to know he was now living it out.

It was the perfect way to kick off their season—to kick off his rookie season—and Luke genuinely didn’t think he could sit down for longer than two seconds if someone asked him to. His body was bone-tired, he needed decent rest because professional hockey was no joke and his body was still not used to the jump from college hockey.

But he was buzzing. He was practically vibrating with how excited he was. He felt like he could do anything at that moment.

The locker room was buzzing with talks about how to celebrate. Most of them were tired—happy but fucking tired. The younger group wanted to head out to a bar, the older ones wanted to try to be responsible for the sake of practice in the morning. Nico was somewhere in the middle, trying to be diplomatic and find a solution that worked for everyone.

But honestly, Luke didn’t want to stand in a bar where he would either have to sneak drinks or stay sober. And he didn’t particularly want to get drunk in the first place. And he didn’t want to just head home with Jack when his body felt like it could start bouncing off the walls.

He had this ever present, insistent buzz itching beneath his skin and he had a million and one ideas on how to scratch it.

Truthfully, everything was a blur. He didn’t remember the post-game interviews or whatever chirps were being thrown his way in the locker room. He didn’t remember what fuck-ass excuse he gave Jack as he clambered into the backseat of an Uber. He didn’t even remember ordering the Uber in the first place.

He just knew it led him to your doorstep, knocking on your door somewhere past eleven when he hadn’t even stopped to think if you’d be awake or not. He just knew he wanted to see you.

It was almost a shock when the door swung open a couple of seconds after he knocked.

“Shouldn’t you be out celebrating with your team, winner?” You teased, leaning against the door as you spoke. Though, you didn’t look all that bothered with Luke showing up this late to your place unannounced.

But his brain was still moving a million miles an hour and he knew—somewhere amongst the chaos of his thoughts—that he should have said hello, or apologised for randomly showing up, or for banging on your door when you could have been asleep.

But the only thing he managed to blurt out was, “I want to make you come.”

You blinked. And again. And then one more time.

And he thought his racing heart was going to explode in his chest before you pulled the door open wider, an invitation for him to step inside as you muttered something about your nosy neighbours overhearing the whole conversation and eavesdropping.

Luke stood aimlessly in your entrance hallway, watching as you spun to quickly close the door behind him before turning on your heel to face him. You leaned back against the door, making his chest tighten in some kind of way at the way you smiled at him.

“Feeling confident after your big win, huh?” You grinned, pulling the sleeves of your hoodie over your hands, and he couldn’t help but find the act oddly endearing. “Does this mean you’re, like, first place or something?”

Luke didn’t bother fighting the smile growing on his face. “Yeah, we basically won the whole thing. Everyone has just forfeited from the championship.”

“You know, you joke but if it wasn’t for the fact I can see you trying not to laugh at me, I would have believed you,” you said to him before pushing off the door, taking a few steps closer to him. “You never answered my question though. Did the win make you feel more confident?”

“Maybe,” he swallowed, his fingers itching to just reach out for you the second you were at arm’s length from him. “It’s just…you always do stuff for me. I wanna do stuff for you too. But like, it’s okay if you don’t want—”

“Don’t do that,” you interrupted.

He frowned a little.

“Don’t second guess your own confidence,” you corrected yourself as you stopped just a step or two away from him. “Be sure of yourself. It’s hot.”

“Mhm,” Luke nodded, though it didn’t sound all that self-assured.

“Remember, just like hockey. You practice and then you play. We’ve been doing the exact same.” And weirdly enough, your words were comforting. “Have some faith in yourself, Luke.”

“Right. Just like hockey,” he murmured, glancing at the small distance between the two of you.

“Just like hockey,” you repeated with a small nod.

And, just like hockey, Luke let himself act before he over thought his actions too much. Hockey was about acting fast and thinking later. It was about acting on your instincts and trusting your teammate would be on the other side of the puck. It was about letting every move, every hit, every shot to be nothing but one hundred percent. It was about taking the chance before it was gone.

Luke took a step forward, closing the distance between you two as his hands reached to cup your face before he kissed you. You let out a noise of surprise that sounded from the back of your throat before you sunk into it, letting your hands rest against his stomach as he took control.

It was intoxicating, in a way you had never experienced with Luke before. Most of the time, he was happy to let you take control. He got this cute but hopeless look on his face when he didn’t know where to put his hands. He was happy to just sit back and let you tell him exactly just how you wanted to be touched, kissed, held.

But this was different. It was overwhelming. It was suffocating in the best way possible. Feeling his body tower over you, feeling his large palms holding you just where he wanted you as his tongue slid into your mouth. Feeling the way Luke acted when he didn’t think, when he didn’t get in his own head, when he just let his body act the way it wanted to.

You barely had a chance to catch your breath before his hands dropped from your face, fingers wrapping around your thighs with a stuttered ‘jump’ whispered against your lips before he lifted you with the ease only a professional athlete could achieve.

He barely pulled away as he walked deeper into your apartment, the layout practically memorised in his head considering the fact he spent just as much time here as he did in his own apartment. His arms were locked on you, not letting you slip a bit as he wandered into your bedroom, laying you down on the bed with a gentleness that made your stomach dip.

“Show off,” you murmured as you glanced up at him, lip tucked between your teeth as your fingers brushed against the hem of his shirt.

He lazily grinned down at you. “I can be impressive sometimes.”

“Yeah?” Your lips twitched upwards as you shuffled back until you were sat further up the bed. You reached for the hem of your hoodie, pulling it over your head and tossing the clothing off to the side. “Come show me how impressive you can be, Hughes.”

He swallowed, eyes darting over your figure before he slowly began making his way onto the bed. “You’re sure?”

“You were the one who came knocking on my door, saying you wanted to make me come,” you teased.

“Yeah but,” Luke paused for a second as his gaze caught yours. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to do it because I want to.” He flashed you an awkward but sweet smile. “Consent is sexy, you know?”

You snorted, but you grinned back at him. “You have my consent to make me come, Luke.”

“Uh,” he cleared his throat. “I just…I want you to enjoy it but I don’t…”

“Breathe,” you murmured in a softer voice, reaching up to gently squeeze his cheeks to catch his attention. “I’m still here, you’re not doing this alone. Just like hockey, remember? Think of me as your teammate.”

His face instantly scrunched up. “I really don’t want to be thinking about any of my teammates right now.”

You snorted, despite yourself.

“Yeah, okay, maybe not my finest choice of words. What I’m trying to say is that you’re not doing this alone. Sex is a ‘two way street’, ‘it takes two to tango’ kinda thing, Luke,” you spoke as you reached down to guide his hands to the waistband of your leggings. “We’re doing this together.”

“Together,” he murmured with a nod.

“Just like hockey,” you said to him again, seeing a hint of his earlier confidence shine in his eyes as his fingers hooked the waistband of your leggings before pulling them down your legs.

He tugged them over your feet before throwing them off to the side, where your hoodie still laid. He didn’t even hesitate before he ripped his own shirt off over his head, in some weird mixed statement so you weren’t the only one who was half-naked—and because he felt his whole body running far warmer than he thought was normal.

“Foreplay is important. It’s like warm-ups, it’s necessary and preferred and makes the game easier, as well as more enjoyable,” you said, your voice a little lower than before as you gently guided one of his hands from your waist downwards. “It makes her feel good. It makes you feel good. It’s sexy.”

“Sexy,” he noted with a nod, though his eyes were transfixed on you.

Luke gulped a little as his fingers rested along the elastic waistband of your panties. His heart was racing in his chest and blood was roaring in his ears and it was a little hard to focus on the words you were saying when his dick was twitching in his sweatpants.

“Just gotta know where to touch her,” you whispered, lip tucked between your teeth as your fingers lightly skimmed over your clothed cunt. You choked out a gasp as you pressed a slow, deliberate circle over your clit.

He didn’t think even a meteor crashing into your bedroom could make him tear his eyes away from you right now.

“Try.”

Luke’s brows raised a little as you stared at him expectantly.

“C’mon, winner,” your lips twitched upwards. “Just like hockey.”

Just like hockey.

Luke slowly ran his hand over your waist, feeling the cotton fabric of your panties under his touch. He kept his eyes locked on your cunt, trying to ignore the way his hand was shaking as he ran his fingers along the fabric.

A soft sigh left your lips and his eyes snapped up to look at your face, to watch your expressions closely to see what you reacted to. His thumb pressed down experimentally and your nose twitched a little.

“A little higher.”

He listened.

“Firm but gentle.”

He listened.

“Fuck, just like that, Luke.”

He listened.

“A little faster.”

Luke listened.

He listened as you guided him. He listened until there was a small wet spot on the front of your panties. He listened until you were panting and telling him to pull them down your legs. He listened as he gently glided his fingers between your folds, watching with dark eyes as his fingers glinted with your release.

“I get it,” he muttered out at some point, his thumb pressing down on your swollen clit as your hips bucked up against his touch. “The noises. Why you like them.” He gulped a little as his eyes glanced up at you. “You sound pretty when you’re moaning, Cherry.”

“Shit,” your eyes fluttered shut as you reached down to grip his wrist. “Just…fuck, I need to feel you inside me.”

His cheeks burned hot.

“Just,” you panted, chewing down on your bottom lip until it was red and a little swollen. “Slow, okay?”

He gulped. “You sure?”

You huffed out a laugh. “You wanna make me come?”

He nodded.

“Then yeah, I’m sure,” you murmured, brows furrowed together as you felt him glide his fingers through your folds until they were completely covered.

And, if Luke was being so completely honest, he could have come in his pants from the sight alone. It was like at the last possible moment, his brain remembered to look up as he slowly slide one finger inside you and, fuck, he was glad he did.

He felt entranced. He felt mesmerised. He felt like he was stuck in some sort of hypnosis and he couldn’t look away.

He wanted to burn this moment in his memory so he could never, never forget it. He wanted to memorise the way your eyes fluttered shut. He wanted to memorise the way you felt squeezing around him, like you didn’t want him to ever leave. He wanted to memorise the way your lips parted with a silent scream as he slid another finger inside you, as he curled his fingers, as you bucked your hips.

He wanted to remember every single fucking moment until the day he died.

“A little faster,” you breathed out, your head thrown back on your pillow as he followed your instructions. “Shit, yes. Like that. Fuck.”

“Good?” Luke murmured, his whole body feeling like it was on fire and his dick straining against his boxers but, fuck, he couldn’t care less when his attention was on you.

“Good,” you confirmed with a nod as one hand gripped the sheets, the other reaching down to give your clit some attention. “So good, Luke.”

Something in his stomach flipped at your words.

If someone asked Luke Hughes how the last forty-eight hours of his life had been, he would tell them it had been fucking amazing.

And if they asked him what the best moment was, he should probably answer that he has too many to choose from. That maybe it was the fact he officially started his rookie year in the National Hockey League. That maybe it was the fact he won not one, but two NHL games. That maybe it was the fact they won them one after the other. That maybe it was the fact he did all of the above whilst sharing the ice with his big brother.

But, in all fucking honesty, Luke would have chosen this moment.

He would have chosen the sight of you writhing and squirming beneath him. He would have chosen the sight of you panting and moaning and begging. He would have chosen the sight of you coming on his fingers, your back arching off the bed and his name a whimper on your lips. He would have chosen the sleepy smile you gave him as your body twitched as he pulled his fingers out, already missing the feeling of you clenched around him. He would have chosen the look of pure lust and desire in your eyes as you watched him slide his fingers in his mouth, his body moving before his brain caught up as he sucked the taste of you off his fingers.

He would have chosen this moment. And maybe that realisation would be a lot more alarming and head-spinning in a couple of hours, but right now it was a passing thought before he slumped down on the bed next to you.

“Luke?”

“Hm?”

“You’re a good student,” you murmured, feeling a smile on your lips as he let out a small huff of laughter. “A little more practice and I think you could have a good business going for you if the hockey thing doesn’t work out.”

He shook his head. “I think my skating skills are still better than my sex skills, but the confidence you have in me is appreciated.”

“Hm, true,” you said as you nudged his arm, lifting it up before you curled into his side. Luke didn’t say anything but wrap his arm around you to pull you closer. “You do skate very fast.”

“Those two videos really told you everything you needed to know, huh?” He teased, his words light-hearted and joking and warm.

“No, the games you just played told me that,” you corrected.

Luke froze, his mind replaying the words in his head like he wasn’t sure he heard you right the first time. “You watched my games?”

“Yeah,” you answered like it was obvious. “You said they were the start of the important ones, the ones that counted. I mean, I didn’t understand half of it and I spent a significant amount confused but,” you paused to shrug. “I wanted to support you.”

His chest tightened and it was a little harder to breathe, but he didn’t really want to let you go just yet.

“You didn’t have to,” he eventually choked out.

“I wanted to,” you answered before continuing. “Who knows, maybe I’m your good luck charm.”

He knew you were joking. He could hear as much in your voice. But it still made his heart clench a little at the thought.

“Guess you gotta watch every game then.”

“Guess you gotta teach me the game so I understand it then.”

His arm tightened around you, his face burned red and his heart skipped a beat or two. But he still managed to mutter out, “Deal, Cherry.”

#luke hughes #nhl #new jersey devils #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x you #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes fic #luke hughes one shot #luke hughes smut #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot #nhl smut

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pnutbutter-n-j-elyy · 4 months

Text

When They're Drunk| Maknae Line

Their drunk shenanigans Warnings: Mentioning of alcohol (obviously), Slight suggestion in Seungmin's

Hyungline

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Han|

You internally cringed as you saw another innocent pedestrian about to cross your path.

You reached out to grab Han before he started to head over but it was too late.

"Excuse me! Excuse me!" He said waving to the old man.

Bless the grandpa's heart as he adjusted his hearing aid and prepared to tune into Han.

"Baby leave him-"

"THIS IS MY GIRLFRIEND Y/N!! ISN'T SHE SO PRETTY!!" He exclaimed excitedly gesturing towards you. "And she's really nice and funny! And when she laughs too hard sometimes she snorts and sounds like a pig!" He shares, bouncing on his toes with a surprising amount of poise considering how plastered he was at the moment.

He spotted another couple walking and made his way over.

"OHMAGOSH HI! YOU GUYS ARE SO CUTE TOGETHER! HAVE YOU SEEN MY GIRLFRIEND? WE'RE CUTE TOGETHER TOO!" He motions you over and you feel extremley embarassed as Han goes into detail about the uneven pitch you use when singing to the soundtracks of Disney movies while cleaning around the house and "How friggin adorable" it is.

This continues all the way to the guys dorms.

Every single time Han sees a person he just has to inform them that you are his girlfriend and he is completely head over heels for you.

You step into a convenient store just a block away from the house to pick up some hangover medicine, orange juice and Han's favorite brand of popsicles for the morning after a long night out.

He ends up wandering away for a second and you decide to pay for everything first and then go to find Han.

You find him sitting outside with the owners of the stores son, talking his ear off as he finished up an assignment you assumed was due in a few hours considering the lightening sky.

"See! Look! There she is! The girl I was telling you about? She's my girlfriend!"

The kid took a sip from his milk.

"I have a girlfriend too! Does your girlfriend like watching cartoons too?"

Han shakes his head. "My girlfriend is too smart for cartoons, she likes watching crime documentaries."

"Oh." The kid said ripping open a package of sweet bread and then tearing a piece off for Han. "Does she like playing Roblox."

Han nods. "Yeah sometimes she scams kids on there with one of my best friends!" He says as he bites into the bread. "Buh ond haima mahy fer!" He says with a full mouth.

You chuckle and go to grab your boyfriend. "Now what did you say?" You manage to laugh out as you pull him up.

"I said one day I'm gonna marry you!" He exclaimed as he waved bye to the kid.

"Are you now?"

"Yep! So then I can tell everyone you're my wife." He said his eyebrows wiggling.

"I'm hoping you mean you'll tell everyone I'm your wife when your sober-"

You don't even finish your sentence when you spot Han frolicking over towards his next victim of oversharing.

You resolve to not even try to stop him.

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

Felix|

You tucked Felix in and placed a cold bottle of water next to him on the coffee table. Jisung was in the inflatable bed on the other side of the room passed out and snoring next to Jeongin - both of the boys falling asleep the minute they had hit their pillows. The other guys were sprawled out in various places in your childhood home. Chan sleeping on the cool tile floor at the entrance of the kitchen.

This was all due to the excessive amount of alcohol the boys had consumed. You had decided to bring them to your home in America, and they had seen a cute little Mexican restaurant while driving towards your home and wanted to eat there for dinner.

You immediately said yes because it had always been your favorite place to go. Birthdays, graduations, baby showers - your 21st birthday. The owner's son worked for a place that distributed tequila, so the number of margaritas - and a variety of them as well - that the restaurant sold was always a motivation to go.

And once the boys tried one, they couldn’t stop.

The amount of margaritas that had been downed by them was slightly concerning - especially considering they weren’t used to drinking cocktails with such high ABV.

Felix looked up at you and smiled softly, his freckles highlighted by the lamp next to the arm of the couch.

“You sleepy?” You whispered as you moved a few strands of hair out of your boyfriend’s face.

He nodded. “I have to go to sleep. So I can make you brownies tomorrow.”

You chuckled and stared lovingly at him, gently poking a few of his freckles.

“We can make them later in the day, you can sleep in.”

He shakes his head. “I can’t sleep in. I want to see everything.”

“We’ll be here for two weeks, Lix. And I already planned tomorrow as a rest day for everyone to get over jet lag. My mom is making brunch so you don’t have to get up until at least 12.”

Felix shakes his head. “No…I have to make brownies tomorrow.” He mumbles. He opens his brown eyes and smiles.

You laugh. “Why tomorrow?”

“Because I’m gonna marry you.” He says quietly. “ I’m gonna put your ring in a brownie. And I don't want to wait. So I have to do it tomorrow."

You paused the gentle caresses of his face and he closed his eyes his lips quivering softly.

“I ruined your surprise.” He says his voice breaking quietly. “Are you mad?” His warm brown eyes searched your face for any sign of anger; but it was void of anything but utter lovesickness.

You let out a breathless laugh. “No of course not. I can’t wait either.”

“Does that mean you'll say yes?” He asks quietly, his eyes getting droopy with sleep.

“Y-” You’re answer is interrupted by a loud snore coming from Seungmin and Hyunjin letting out a whimper.

“Y/N my head hurts, can I have medicine?” He whines quietly.

“Yes.” You answer- both to Hyunjin and your sleeping angel of a boyfriend.

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

Seungmin|

"Seungmin get that glass away from your mouth." You groaned as you snatched a Spongebob shot glass from your boyfriend's hand. On your first date back home you had taken him to the mall and he had strolled into a store that had sold everything from t-shirts and hats to shot glasses and other...adult things.

"SeUnGmIn gEt tHat GlAsS aWay FrOm yOur MoUtH." He mocked as he sat on the couch and pouted.

"Babe you've had a lot to drink. And you have nothing in your stomach. You're a mess."

His reply was quick. "You're a mess because I'm not in your stomach."

You turn around and Seungmin had a confident smirk on his face, although what he just said didn't make too much sense realistically.

Seungmin was rarely ever flirty. When you had started your relationship you had told Seungmin you wished to stay abstinent until you married him. Which you were sure of doing. Seungmin had quickly agreed; but with that agreement he was always careful with the way he flirted and joked because he didn't wish to bring you any discomfort.

You chuckled and went a leand down in front of Seungmin.

"Hmm? Really?" You cooed.

Seungmin gave you a sultry look and pulled you on top of him. His lips made contact all along your face and he slowly brought them down to your jawline.

"Mmm." He continued kissing your neck and you smiled as you stroked his hair. "I love you so much. I want you so bad."

You laughed as Seungmin's kisses came to halt, and he quickly but carefully removed you from his lap and rushed to the bathroom.

You followed him soon after because you heard him wailing.

"Minnie baby whats wrong?" You whispered as you sat with him on the bathroom floor.

"I-I-I took ad-advantage of y-you. You wanted to-to wait and I-I..." He wasn't able to finish his sentence before he leaned over the toilet seat and started to heave.

Although it was barely useful since there wasn't much for him to actually throw up.

"Minnie baby you didn't take advantage of me. I fully took part in flirting with you too. And just because I don't want to have sex at the moment doesn't mean I don't want to flirt with you like that. I just don't want the full on intimacy yet."

You stroked Seungmin's hair, and waited for him to feel better.

"Just to make sure it's not because I'm ugly right?" He asked plainly looking at you dead in the eye.

You sputter out a laugh. "No of course not! I think you're so fine it actually concerning." Seungmin hmmed and rested his head against your chest. "Its just my personal preference to wait." You assured him.

He sighs and nods. "Okay just wanted to make sure." He stated as he lifted the Spongebob shot glass up to his mouth again quickly dowing the contents before you could tell him not to or snatch it way again.

"Kim Seungmin! I thought I told you no more tonight!" You said, referring to his drinking activties.

"You'll be telling me that a lot more once we're married." He pulls himself up on his two feet and wobbles slightly.

Then a shit eating grin plasters itself on his face.

"I'm just telling you right now I suck at listening."

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

Jeongin |

You walked into the guys' dorm and saw Jeongin crying on the ground.

“What's wrong?” You asked Felix as you slipped off your shoes, and into a pair of slippers Chan had purchased for you once you and the maknae of the group had started dating.

“He’s drunk.”

You hung up your coat and frowned. “He doesn’t usually get this way though.”

“That’s because he saw a picture of your boyfriend.” Minho commented, trying to suppress a laugh as he took a sip from his glass, and continued watching Jeongin flail on the ground with all the other boys.

“M-Mi-Minho Hyung s-stooooo-stoooo-sttooppp.” Jeongin barely managed to say through his choked sobs. You looked over at Chan in concern but he was crying from laughter, barely able to keep his phone in the same upright position as the rest of the members.

Jeongin was never going to live this down.

“But he's my boyfriend.? You say in confusion.

Hyunjin is on the ground with Jeongin scrolling through his photos.

“Look Jeongin- this is Y/N and her boyfriend at the award ceremony. He thanked her while he was on stage and she was sooooo happy about it. And she even joined him and his band for dinner.”

“Sh-she-she didddddd?” Jeongin cries out with a heartbreaking pout on his eyes focused on the picture Hyunjin was showing.

Of you and Jeongin.

“Yep. And they even shared a piece of cake. Specifically strawberry cheesecake.”

Jeongin starts to sniffle again, and then hiccup and the water works began once more.

“Y/N lovesss stra-strawb-berry cheesecakkeeeee.” He whined loudly, his sobs almost loud enough to overpower the laughter in the room.

You can’t help but laugh as you go to make your way towards your boyfriend, who has snot running down his face.

You wipe it away with the sleeve of a hoodie he gifted you and shush him.

"Innie its okay don’t cry.” You giggled as you cleaned up his face. His narrow eyes were puffy and sad but still unrealistically beautiful.

“But Y/N ha-has a boy-boy-boy-friendddddd. And he-he looks so so hand-ndsome she’ll never-never leave himmmm.” He cries out again, letting out a strangled sob that sounded strangely ogreish. "He-he's like SO se-sexy!" He chokes.

You laugh at Jeongin's unknowing drunk narcissism.

“Baby, you’re right. You are very handsome and sexy and I’ll never leave you.” You chuckled along with the rest of the guys as Jeongin’s cries suddenly came to an abrupt halt and he stared at you with watery eyes. He then turned towards Hyunjin and grabbed his phone, putting it close to his face, like a child with a tablet and he hiccuped.

“Oh wait that's me." He murmurs as he stares at the screen intently and zooming in on both of your smiling faces. "Y/N look at you you look so pretty!” He hiccuped once more as he turned Hyunjin’s phone towards you. A smile on his face - a complete 180 from 30 seconds ago.

The members were saving their videos.

“He’s never living that down.” Channie says as he slips his phone into his pocket.

You laugh and Jeongin continues to stare at the phone his lips turning downwards, the bottom one starting to tremble and Jeongin’s hiccups and breathes coming more rapidly.

“Baby whats wrong?” You asked as he clutched his hyung’s phone in his hand.

“I-I-I’m Y/N’s bo-boyfriend…b-b-but-but I’m not her h-husbanddddd.” He threw his arms around you and this time his cries were twice as loud as his fellow band members hit their record buttons again.

#stray kids reactions #skz reactions #skz x reader #skz imagines #jeongin #skz felix #lee felix #yang jeongin #skz seungmin #kim seungmin #skz jisung #han jisung

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dustofthedailylife · 1 year

Text

It Must Be Love

-> Masterlist || → Taglist

Pairing: Blade, Dan Heng, Jing Yuan, Gepard, Welt x (gn!) Reader

Summary: When they realized they had feelings for you...

Tags: Fluff, SFW, mention of injuries (Blade), just them realizing they're completely smitten

A/N: My last fic before my Japan vacation! I got a lot more in my WIP stash that I'll get to after. Excited to get to that when I'm back, or maybe I can finish one or the other fic in the evening on my vacation when I'm in bed. We'll see. Stay amazing until then! <3

BLADE

When you joined the Stellaron Hunters he shot down your every attempt of trying to get to know him and stayed clear of you. He was curt and only ever spoke with you if it was necessary. In his opinion, there was no need for you two to be acquainted. And it would be for your own good anyway.

It wasn’t until you came back gravely injured from a mission and were passed out for days, that he wouldn’t leave your side.

He sat on the armchair in your room most of the time, and was either sleeping or meditating with his eyes closed. He occasionally switched your bandages and cleaned your wounds while insisting he’d be the only one to do it. After all, he involuntarily had quite the expertise with injuries himself.

And when the day you began to stir awake again finally came, and he heard the quiet plea for water come over your parched lips, he felt a wave of relief wash over him.

He told himself over and over again that he didn’t care about anyone and wouldn’t dare to allow himself to care anymore. In fact, he may have even thought he wasn’t capable of it anymore. But feelings are often beyond one's control or rational explanation. And deep down he had always known that he cared deeply about you.

He had only steered clear of you because it had been evident to him, that if he allowed himself to care, there would be no going back. Alas, it now was too late for that as well. Yet it did not matter any longer. All he cared about was that you were still alive.

“Never get hurt like this again.” He scolded with a voice seemingly devoid of any emotion, as he lifted a bottle of water to your lips so you could drink.

But despite the underlying sharp tone in his voice, there was sincere concern in his eyes only a few people ever got to see. And he knew he was no longer able to hide it.

DAN HENG

Himeko brought you along one day and introduced you to the Astral Express Crew as their newest member, a bundle of energy much like March. And everyone seems ecstatic to welcome you aboard. Everyone but Dan Heng. He curtly introduced himself without shaking your outstretched hand, before vanishing back to his room again without another word.

It would be a lie if he said he didn’t find you attractive, but Alas, he couldn’t allow himself to get closer. One more person on the Express only meant there were more people he had to keep secrets from. Besides, you seemed just as lively and energetic as March was, and if he was sure of one thing it’s that one March was already enough. So that was even more reason to steer clear of you for his own peace of mind.

So in turn he tried keeping you at an arm's length. The only problem however was, that you apparently weren’t deterred by his cold demeanor and practically threw yourself at him at every chance you got.

You would often knock on his door to bring him some freshly brewed tea, rummage through the archive or call him quirky nicknames you came up with. He could only roll his eyes at them, but secretly he began to like them and caught himself smiling whenever he thought of them.

At first, he managed to remain distanced and only spoke to you when it was strictly necessary, but he soon began to warm up more and more. Until he would eventually find himself beginning to crave your presence every day.

And it was when he found himself looking at the empty chair you used to sit on almost every evening now, that he became aware of his feelings for you. The naggings and nicknames that used to bother him, now made his heart beat quicker and a tingly feeling made itself known in his stomach.

The simple image of your smile made the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. The sound of your voice always managed to soothe his nerves. And your absence made him feel incomplete.

It was then he had to admit to himself that there was no longer any point in denying it. He had inevitably fallen for you.

JING YUAN

When there was more administrative work to do on the Luofu due to the recent happenings, Qingzu, who was assisting Jing Yuan with the additional workload, proposed to hire someone else to help as well. To be precise, help with caring for the general’s lion, since it was usually Qingzu’s task. But since she was preoccupied with other matters right now, there was a distinct lack of time.

And that’s when you were hired.

You were tasked to care for Mimi in Qingzu’s stead from hereon out and seemed to immediately get along with the animal quite well, too. It certainly put Jing Yuan’s mind at ease to know that his lion was adequately cared for.

One day, when Jing Yuan returned earlier than usual from his duties he found you peacefully asleep on the sofa, your head comfortably nestled in the fur of the equally asleep lion. But he didn’t dare to disturb your slumber and returned to his desk with a smile on his face since he too felt the weight of sleep oftentimes throughout the day.

Once you awoke you practically jumped up when you saw him sitting at his desk already, ushering a shy “Oh, General. I didn’t expect you to be back home at such a time already. Forgive me.”

He just let out a soft chuckle in reply, assuring you that there was no need to worry and that it actually put his mind at ease that you got along so well with Mimi.

After this, he made a conscious effort to come back home earlier more often. And every time, without fail, he would find you sleeping together with his lion in the afternoon sun. Your peaceful expression and the quiet purr of his lion truly was a sight for sore eyes

And if his lion loved you, what was he supposed to feel if not the same?

GEPARD

Gepard saw you for the first time when he stopped by his sister's workshop. He caught a quick glimpse of you before you vanished into the side room of the workshop again.

Of course, his sister immediately caught him staring. Because he stood there stunned and only stared holes into the door you vanished through.

If Serval was good at one thing, it was reading Gepard like a book. And she only needed one look at his face to know exactly what he was thinking. Of course, she took the opportunity to tease him about it with a big grin across her face, much to the embarrassment of Gepard who only cleared his throat and diverted the topic, unable to hide the red blooming across his cheeks.

He soon found out that you were a singer and songwriter and that you and Serval sometimes performed together in a local club. And he found himself venturing there on his off days to watch your show.

Serval introduced you to him and eventually, you began to become closer. Asking him if he would come to your next gig as well. And of course, he did. In fact, he did so often that he had all your songs memorized down to a T now and often found himself humming them absentmindedly throughout the day.

And suddenly, as one of his subordinates asked him which song he keeps humming all the time now, he became aware of the feelings he harbored for you.

The warm, prickly feeling within his chest. The way his heartbeat quickened, or the corners of his mouth turned upwards involuntarily whenever he saw you, talked to you, or thought of you.

It was undeniable. He had fallen in love in love with you.

WELT

Welt and you were just colleagues. At least that's what he was trying to convince himself of at first.

Research and worries about your mission often woke you up at night recently, so you often got up to brew a fresh pot of coffee. And Welt found you sitting in an armchair in the parlor car one night when he, too, got up in the middle of the night because his thoughts had kept him awake.

You offered him a cup of coffee as well before you sat back down. Each just sipped their coffee in silence. You gazed at the stars outside of the window of the Express while he tried to read some book to keep his mind off the thoughts that had kept him awake.

Yet, he found himself unable to concentrate on it and instead stole glances at you while rattling his brain about what he could talk about with you.

Eventually, you were the first one to break the silence. Initiating a conversation about the vastness of the universe and the thing that are yet beyond any human comprehension. Asking questions no man knew an answer to yet. And he was more than happy to indulge in the conversation.

You ended up talking until the morning hours that night without the conversation ever dying down. He enjoyed the talk you had so much, he found himself thinking about it for weeks after.

Long deep talks over a fresh pot of coffee in the middle of the night should soon become a habit for both of you.

And he came to crave them so much that he even started setting an alarm at night and went to check if you were there again as well. And most of the time you were.

One night, when he looked at you and saw the light of the stars reflect in your eyes once again, he too had to admit he was looking straight at a star himself.

Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about HSR or my fics are always greatly appreciated and motivate me! Maple dividers are mine - do not copy.

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #blade x reader #dan heng x reader #jing yuan x reader #gepard x reader #welt x reader #hsr fluff #hsr fanfic #honkai star rail fanfic #honkai star rail x reader #hsr drabbles #hsr imagines #🍁 dust writes #🍁彡 hsr

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taegularities · 1 month

Text

you're okay | myg (m)

Summary: Let it hurt and burn. Let it out; and then let it fade away. Let it heal. Yoongi can't lift all your burdens, but he has taught you at least this much over the years.

➳ pairing: Yoongi x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: s2l/est. rel.; angst, fluff, smut ➳ warnings: this one's heavy :') pov switches, switching between past and present, reference to the d-day documentary, mental health issues, therapy, depression and anxiety, mentioned unaliving attempt, mentions of fainting, slight mention of SA, implied panic attack, lots of trauma, lots of sadness, healing journey/healing with yoongi, feelings of loneliness, feeling unworthy, oc is very unsure and thinks she's a burden, tears and crying; explicit sexual content: (brief) protected sex, oral (f. receiving), masturbation, kissing/making out. please heed the warnings <3 ➳ word count: 11.5k ➳ a/n: hi hi. not the average taegularities fic, i think. once again, please do note the warnings before reading. it's okay if it's too heavy and you need breaks – take care of yourself. it's a very very personal piece that i just needed to get out of my system. yoongi's snooze inspired it; i still cry when i listen to it – i'm thankful it saved me in so many ways, and i hope you feel the same way about this fic. i love you all; here's to healing and living 💕 ➳ listen to: snooze by agust d ft. ryuichi sakamoto & woosung 🤍

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST | WIPs

The weather changes at warp speed these days.

When you left just this morning, it was raining buckets. The shower barely allowed a glimpse at the sky, grey as smoke; ominous clouds were bursting, fast cars and busy passengers on the sidewalk rushing through the world.

You were one of them, not necessarily impressed by the downpour. But you smiled when someone halted, stretching an arm to force the doors of the bus open until you were inside.

The tender gesture lit up your gloomy morning, a proof of how the world isn’t all misery and ruin. For a couple minutes and hours, that stranger’s smile lifted the weight off your leather jacket clad shoulders. You were burdened by nothing but the bag hanging on your side.

But now, the same jacket is draped over your arm and feels much heavier than before; stripped off when the sun broke through the clouds around the afternoon. The additional weight gives you grief; you’re relieved when you hang it onto a rack, step out of your shoes and drag yourself to the bathroom.

God, all actions seem so passive these days.

Passive and automatic, just half-conscious. You’re fatigued and lost in your head. Frankly, you need your bed. You hate that you still need to shower. You wish you could skip that part and still keep your body healthy and clean.

And as you stand under the water, shifting your balance to the right leg and back, you realise that another work day is over and another one is coming. Interactions, productivity, the craving your bed. You need the weightlessness.

So much so that you soon feel the knot in your chest, intensifying, and the heat of the water combines with an uncomfortable breathlessness until your knees bend a little. Immediately, you plant your palms against the bathroom tiles, taking a seat on the shower floor.

You cross your legs; the thought of your father is immediate because he always taught you to take a seat wherever once you start feeling dizzy. Since that one adolescence day when you passed out and hurt your chin, you have followed this advice and prevented worse.

Your head spins for a moment, your chest tight; and you hear a dull thump. There’s an odd rustle in your ears, mixed with the sound of the dripping water; so you don’t notice the call of your name right away.

Keeping your answer absent for another moment, you only wrap your arms around your chest, just to keep yourself whole. You feel like your body might fracture into a dozen pieces.

The shampoo bottle that presumably caused the thump before rolls against you, and you gasp in uncomfortable surprise; immediately hear another slurred, “Hey! Are you okay? What’s going on?”

It's him; he’s always worried. Maybe that’s what you’ve been struggling with so much lately. The fact that you never suffer alone whenever the weight on your shoulder and brain drags you down too far.

A worried voice chimes again, breaking the sound of the shower jet, and you suddenly become hyper aware of his concern, rushing to finally get out. You exclaim a reassuring, “All good!” before the silence can prolong or betray you.

His calls stop, probably relieved when you add another, “Coming.”

You envelop your body in your towel; just a moment later, he knocks. You would’ve opened even if he hadn't.

Yoongi stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame, and breathes in the sauna-esque air. His mouth turns into a surprised circle, and he blinks before he blows out a breath and states, “You showered hot today, huh?”

“Mhh,” you hum, “the sun never keeps me from doing so. Feels good.”

He smiles, watches your lotioned hands hydrate your skin, very slowly and very delicately. When you sigh in something he interprets as fatigue, he asks, “Do you need help?”

Four simple words, but they soothe something in your wrinkly, grey brain. The knot of stress loosens just a little, and you sigh deeply, telling him, “Yes, please.”

He doesn’t hesitate to step behind you, picking up the pink, wooden brush lying on the laundry basket next to you to release the knots in your wet hair. For a couple of minutes, you indulge in the massage; and then wallow in the feeling of his hands on your face, taking over to do your skincare.

And then, gentle as he is, he helps you into your clothes. You feel somewhat pathetic, but most of all, thankful — anything to get through the night.

“You all set?” he asks once he’s done, palms on your shoulders. You touch the digits of his left hand, leading them to your lips to kiss them softly before you nod.

You follow him into the living room, detecting the still present sunrays protruding through the spots that the sheer curtains don’t filter. It’s not dark yet, but the light is slowly fading. The star is preparing to drown behind the horizon, dusk in motion.

The pretty hues give you a brief yet strange burst of motivation; often, you fear the night more despite its serene reputation. Too dark, too haunting.

Yoongi has already set the table; he starts to ladle the sundubu-jjigae into your bowl, rice in another smaller dish next to it. You sit; you feel endlessly indebted and silently terrified at once. The food looks amazing, so the taste isn’t the problem.

Your boyfriend is a good cook, and you thank the deities every day for his existence. It was much harder to get by and assemble a meal when you lived alone.

But your expression is still the opposite of what it’s supposed to be, and when he sees it, he asks, “You good? Have you eaten yet?”

“No.”

“Then eat a little, okay? As much as you can.”

You gulp, oblige. You know your body calls for it, so you listen to it, chewing a couple bites, even though it feels impossible to actually swallow. God; you need to stop your chest and stomach from trying to convince you that everything is heavy.

Your clothes, your heart, your thoughts.

You know it isn’t true. It drives you mad when your own brain proves this treacherous, attempting to lie to you like this.

Then again, energy dwindles faster these days. Your body knows; maybe that’s why you feel tired. You need to sleep — maybe that could help you feel a bit more feathery.

But shit, you wish there was a more efficient charger for human beings than sleep, so you could be productive. Your mind won’t let you sleep properly anyway.

“Is it good?” Yoongi asks, interrupting your thoughts. He’s always the first to notice when you’re overexerting yourself, even just at dinner.

“It’s very good,” you respond truthfully, even raising your voice to make yourself sound livelier, “as I’d expect from you.”

“Then I’m glad. Thought I’d make you something good, since you worked longer.”

“Always attentive, aren’t you?”

“I try to be.” His spoon drops in his bowl, and he reaches out, touching your cheek just long enough for your heart to stir. “How was work?”

Hm…

You don’t remember too well. You know you went there at least, and you know you did whatever you had to — but you can’t recall details. So all you say without dousing the atmosphere in negativity is, “As always.”

“Was Nayeon at work today?”

“Nope,” you tell him, sending wordless, good vibes towards your best work buddy. “Still sick. A stomach bug, I think. I really hope she feels better soon.”

“Sana again then?”

“Yeah, spent most of the day with her. She’s always so sweet, though… I should talk to her more often.”

You dig into your rice again, trying it with a bigger bite this time. Then, you shake your head in apology, looking back at Yoongi as you ask, “Ah, I’m sorry, baby… how was work for you?”

“As always,” he echoes, “thought of you a lot.”

“Mhm… obsessed much?” you jest, trying a little beam.

“You know me.”

That’s it. You nod; you understand the weakness of your smile, so you lower your head altogether. He sees; of course he does. Yet, he waits and watches you toy with your food. You know the question is approaching before it lands, “Another low?”

Another low…

You could cry. You could burst into tears immediately if you didn’t feel so… empty. A vacant soul, pieces coloured by nothing but him. Yoongi sparks the magic most of the time, even drilling through the numbness.

“Yeah,” you whisper, not crying yet, but the corners of your mouth drop. “It’s been a while.”

“Months, yes? Which is great, my love.” His voice is so mellow, deep, like an antidote. “You’re doing really well.”

“Yeah.”

You are. Because at one point in your life, you used to feel this way all the time. Ever since you found somebody to rely on, someone who listens, you’ve gotten a bit better. He puts you together as if he’s resolving a dispersed puzzle.

But certain phases at certain times still hit you unexpectedly, like a revved up truck.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Yoongi offers.

“There’s nothing really to talk about…”

“Okay. Do it if you need to, though, okay? Eat a little more?”

You do. Fuck, you feel so babied sometimes; you wonder if he discerns things like this, too. That he isn’t really taking care of and loving his girlfriend, but rather babysitting a broken child.

You whoosh the thought away with a blink, finishing more than half of your meal before you set the cutlery aside. You down the last bite with cold water, sauntering to the bathroom, and then meet Yoongi on your bed.

He probably already put the food in the fridge and the dishes in the dishwasher; he must’ve operated rapidly to be here already, awaiting you. The laptop is open and its screen bright, and you know without stepping onto the mattress that he’s opened YouTube.

Less for him, more for you.

If he wanted to spend the remaining minutes of the night scrolling through reels, he could easily do so on his phone. But no… this feels more like an invitation. A quick, sweet date before sleep, just to watch a few animal videos that rarely ever fail to make you smile.

As you crawl into him, watching cats protecting newborn babies or dogs jumping their owners affectionately, you do smile. You laugh, even. You feel somewhat at ease here with him, but you know you’ll go back to ground zero in the morning.

When you’ve left and he’s gone to work.

And you hate it. You hate that you’re dependent on him like this… Yoongi calls it finding comfort in somebody you love, and you don’t disagree. But adding to this, you think you’re limiting his options by shackling yourself to him.

By demanding that comfort.

You sigh in his arms, breathing calmer than before, but not enough to sleep. Yet, he asks, “Hey… sweetheart. Are you awake?”

“I am.”

“I’m just thinking… Do you want me to call the therapist tomorrow?”

Shit… why does the ball of guilt keep growing? How does he think of this and you don’t? Have you really sunk this deep again? You’re stupid.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“I… I should do it myself,” you mumble.

“I don’t mind.”

“No, I’ll just do it in the morning. I think I should… do things for myself, too, right?”

He pauses. Ponders your words; or at least, that’s what you surmise from the way he breathes and sighs and hums. And you’re proven right when he inquires, “Do you feel like I mind doing things for you?”

Yes. No.

No, you do not think so. But you sure as hell waste his time. Occupy it with this nonsense when he could be happier somewhere else, living his life, making plans for the future and rambling about the job he loves.

But no…

Fucking calling the therapist for you.

You break.

It always happens in the worst moments; you don’t know what it is, how it happens, but you break. Hard. Your motions stop, maybe even your breathing. But then you do sigh, so deeply that it burns, trying to keep your voice from shaking, to keep the tears at bay.

But this time, it doesn’t work. Emotions heightened when Yoongi utters something he’s provided as a reminder over the years, “Don’t hold back.”

So you don’t.

There were days when this lesson was necessary, a gentle nudge to release the weight, and today is one of them. You weep, starting with soft whimpers that grow louder steadily, and you press into his chest until you're suddenly sobbing.

You sniffle with an aching head, holding onto him for dear life, barely noticing when your sobs, once again, morph into absolute wailing.

He embraces you, tighter with each inhale and exhale. You’re so impossibly close to him, garbling something that he doesn’t understand. His voice is pain-struck and trembling when he encourages, “Come again, baby? Talk to me.”

It takes a while; it doesn’t work. And then, he chants, “God, baby. My baby… it’s okay. It’s okay.”

“No!” you cry out, slurring your words, “No… am a burden. Am fucking burdening you…”

This is a clear thought, isn’t it? Even in a moment like this, you think it’s true. And that maybe…

Maybe you should’ve never agreed to the lunch he offered you all those years ago. You would miss everything good in your life, lose the one thing you so cherish, but you’d at least rid him of you.

Those long six years ago, you should have just told him you were fine.

As a student, Yoongi always trod the same path from the second floor down to the entrance of the college, living into a routine — never really noticing much of significance. He’d see other students who’d be eating; talking; rushing to class.

And as a TA, Yoongi was used to another, different journey throughout the building, too; climbing down the same spiral staircase, hurrying through the scary, empty mezzanine, passing the same few rooms on the ground floor.

He’d prepare to go home or to the library after attending his favourite psychology professor’s classes, assisting him to his best abilities. But this was different from all the other familiar routes he’d grown accustomed to.

These Wednesday afternoons did offer something of significance. Someone of significance.

Because every time he reached those rooms on the ground floor, you’d be there.

At first, he reckoned you always waited for your class to start, just at the time when his ended. But you were alone each time. The doors to the classrooms and lecture halls were all closed, and then there was you, a sole soul waiting for whatever miracle to appear.

It took a couple weeks for him to gather that you might not have been supposed to be there. He noticed it when he saw your eyes fixated on a spot, pupils never moving an inch, even when he walked past. At some point, he’d memorised just this expression on your face.

And then, bit by bit, he realised that your stance didn’t seem quite normal. Your eyes were dead, hands never flinching. You emanated a sense of loneliness and stupefaction that he couldn’t express in words.

Today, something in him stirred. Perhaps because he’d just covered social behaviour as a topic or perhaps because any proper human would recognise that something was wrong with you.

Your hands were holding a lidless cup that day, barely steaming anymore. You were blinking slowly, if at all. This time, he approached you with care, as if nearing a wounded deer; as if trying to keep it there and not frighten it away.

But when he leaned into you, a hand scarcely touching your shoulder, your head moved up to look at him slowly but surely. And your first reaction to him ever was a smile.

You remember that when you first looked at him, like really looked at him, his face seemed familiar to you. You were sure you’d seen him before, even if just in passing. He had this long, pretty, dark hair, covering his neck, a couple inches above his shoulders.

A kind face. A calm demeanour.

He stood there with pure relaxation between his eyebrows; one you hadn’t felt in a while despite your falling face. Flawless porcelain skin, free of dark circles, free of exhaustion. When did you last look like this?

You smiled at him instinctively, a curious expression; you couldn’t guess at all what he wanted or needed, but you were ready to listen. You’d always listen to people — listen, listen, listen. Perhaps that was the exact problem.

This very attention towards him, coming this easily, made your shoulders sink in new dejection; everything did. Every thought was intrusive, unwelcome, too stretched for your liking.

Whenever you had a normal thought or a bad one that’d at least pass immediately, you considered it a good day.

But you felt a tension around your temples by now; your head never felt at ease.

Yet, you asked, “Yes?”

And he wondered in return, “Are you okay? You looked distracted and I thought I might ask.”

“Oh… that’s nice,” you commented, your voice a bit too quiet yet surprised; you cleared your throat, spoke up, “but I’m okay. I just sit here sometimes after my classes.”

“You do?”

“Mhm. To take a little break after all the information dump, yeah. I’ll go home soon, though, no worries.”

“Hm… yeah. I just,” Yoongi started, hesitant — you now know he was trying to reveal something without appearing creepy. “I noticed you here a few times, so I wanted to ask just to be sure.”

He saw you here? You? And he came up to talk to you, just because he’d noticed you before? Baffling. You didn’t think you were visible to anybody. You thought you faded in front of others’ eyes.

“You’re honestly so nice,” is all you said, hoping your eyes didn’t reveal too much. How much his words affected you, and how they made you think you were just a little, a tiny bit perceptible.

“Sure,” he responded, nodding. And when you failed to come up with more appreciative words, he prepared to move, bidding you goodbye with a single, “Okay…”

Then, he was walking away; as grateful as you were, your energy-lacking body forced your eyes shut. You drew a deep breath. These few words you’d exchanged with him took everything out of you — that was the worst part of all this.

Interaction drained you. Loneliness drained you. The world and life were all draining, and you couldn’t figure out anymore how to feel… awake. Sober without ever drinking.

When your eyes closed, you felt your surroundings starting to spin. Or maybe, it was you; as if someone had gripped your shoulders and was turning you in circles. There were so many weird particles behind your eyelids.

The rotation was insane, but nothing new. Shut down most of your other senses and people’s voices; like the one that returned a second later, the same as before. Shit. Had he seen you struggle? Was he seeing something nobody else ever would?

You weren’t used to attention. You weren’t used to someone noticing.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay?” the stranger with the familiar face asked, concern in his voice. “You don’t look like it.”

What was it? What was it about his gentle, low voice that lured you in? What was it about his attentive tone that made you want to tear up? Maybe because you’d bottled things up for so long.

But you held the liquid locked in your eyes. Proudly, barely.

“I’m…”

You considered lying. You considered pulling a lame excuse out of your ass. But something in you snapped, snapped hard, and the truth spilled just before you could think twice—

“If I’m being honest… I’m feeling pretty faint… I often do? I usually just need to sit down a bit or I’ll pass out.”

You hated using the word usually. As though your condition had become irreparable, like a chronic illness; and you were stating its treatment, only temporary.

“Hmm…” he hummed. “Have you eaten?”

“Not much…”

“Then that might be it,” he concluded, content with the deduction. In hindsight, you think he was hoping it was only that, nothing more. “Do you have something with you?” You shook your head. “Are you getting something?”

You shrugged.

You could’ve easily told the truth and said no; that the appetite was absent, that you were going to go home and hardly remember how you got there. That you’d throw your bag on the couch, take off all your clothes, not really bother for a shower and jump into your bed.

Then, you’d breathe. Survive.

You didn’t have the energy to eat, to shower, and right now, somehow not even to lie. The remainder of it had been used in today’s class and in this conversation.

He knew you couldn’t come up with any bad justification, so he offered, “Listen… I still have this sandwich with me that I was going to eat after class. You can have it if you want.”

What? That was…

“Oh, no,” you blurted, raising a hand to reject, “you should eat if you haven’t yet.”

“Look, I totally get being selfless, but you don’t look good and…” He sighed, tilting his head. Eyebrows raised and expression suddenly stricter. “If I can help anyhow, I’d rather have that than anyone else finding you unconscious here later. Please?”

How could you’ve resisted such a plea?

He was taking care of you and he didn’t even know you. And your body understood; your body heard him. Because your stomach grumbled at the mention of the meal; it didn’t mean anything to you, but it meant something to your hungry, craving body.

It often did that. Wishing to eat; then, not letting you swallow a bite.

You grabbed your bag and warily, carefully got to your feet. The man lifted a hand in caution, as if expecting for you to lose your balance. You did, just a little, swaying until you’d grounded yourself.

Goddamn it.

You nodded with a deep exhale and followed him as he suggested, “Let’s go to the courtyard. Get some fresh air. We can eat there and talk… or not talk if that's what you want.”

You kept moving your head up and down, fine with whatever. The fronts of it hurt due to the lack of nutrition; it was past four pm and you’d only eaten a damn banana.

He found you a shadowy spot away from the sun; it was late spring, the summer steadily approaching. The shade protected your tired eyes, guarded you from further headaches.

As you plumped onto the grass next to him, your fingers grazed it for a moment — and it felt good against your skin. A pleasant combination, the wind and the scent of grass; nearly freed your chest of the stuffy pain.

You watched his soft fingers fish out the sandwich, and then some salted peanuts for himself. Urged you to eat before spilling a handful of the nuts into his palm. God, you felt horribly guilty, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to convince him to share the meal.

He… didn’t even seem to mind a bit.

Wiping his hand on his pants, he finally introduced, “I’m Min Yoongi. Psychology student and TA. Judging from your spot every single Wednesday afternoon, you take psychology classes, too?”

“I do… yeah.”

You took a bite enough for mouses, but then proceeded with a larger, human-appropriate one. Your stomach felt odd; Min Yoongi’s small talk helped you eat, but the nervous feeling in your chest that never really went away weighed heavily on your tummy.

You added, “Thinking of dropping it, though…”

“Why?”

“Because I might be failing anyway. Haven’t done much, and I still have a presentation on my paper left but have prepared nothing for it yet, either.”

“Have you asked the professor about a potential extension?”

Of course you’d thought about it. You always did. Which is why you despised having to answer, “No…”

No. Of course not. To most professors, mental health didn’t matter as an excuse.

You understood, though. They graded every paper they received, surrendering their free time, their summer and their winter breaks. To grant you special treatment was something you regarded as unnecessary; you didn’t think you were worth it.

“Do you feel like you could do better next term?” Yoongi asked.

“I don’t know.”

Your sandwich was done and gone. You were still hungry; you felt the appetite all of a sudden. You knew it often came and went in waves, but somehow, the sandwich left you more pining than anything these days.

Yoongi saw as you licked your fingers clean of the mayonnaise; offered you some peanuts that you politely declined, greedy for something proper. Maybe you’d eat an actual dinner tonight.

After a while, Yoongi spoke, “Okay, I know I’m a stranger to you and everything, but if you want, I could try to help you.”

Shit, but… that would’ve meant putting in the effort. To get up, to meet him, to focus and to study. You didn’t know if you’d be able to do all that. You didn’t know how to—

But his eyes were so sincere; a pure dark brown, sparkling in hope, for whatever noble reason. And you thought… you thought…

If there was any chance to pass this class and get over with it, wouldn’t you feel a gigantic wave of relief wash over you? After so damn long? Wouldn’t it be worth it? Maybe a spark of hope ignited in your chest after all… maybe you could turn things around.

“Yeah…” you finally obliged. “Yeah, that’s really nice.”

“Great. Are you free this Friday afternoon?”

After that, it became part of your routine to meet up with Yoongi every Thursday or Friday, depending on his own schedule. A couple weeks passed like a breeze; or at least, compared to the days you were used to.

Some time later, those meetings increased, and you found a profound liking in them. You still often struggled with leaving your apartment at all, sometimes deeming getting out of bed or brushing your teeth an impossible task.

But whenever Yoongi called, offering a nearby café — always a nearby café — you’d place all your energy into moving, throwing on clothes, leaving. You felt unworried with him; at least for a couple hours.

He wasn’t just smart to an admirable degree; he was humorous, too. Motivating. Praised you for your ideas and your sharp mind. You’d forgotten you still had it in you — you thought time had altered your brain chemistry, killed too many of its cells to still let your mind operate.

Today, he didn’t suggest a café but a place you hadn't been to before. Yoongi had never invited you anywhere that wasn’t a public space, careful with your feelings without ever mentioning the obvious issues you had.

He only really crawled out of his shell and gave you the address to this new spot once you’d invited him over, too — he couldn’t make it, helping out the professor he assisted. But you reckon it was telling enough for him to understand how comfortable you’d grown with him.

So you went where he told you to go, and once you arrived, you recognised it as an office. A small one, but elegantly decorated, furniture sparse. And it wasn’t just any office. A therapist’s office.

“This is my mom’s,” Yoongi explained as you inspected the books on the shelf and the overall soothing and fitting atmosphere, “she’s out of town, so I thought we could study here today.

“Oh…”

He had to have heard your hesitancy, your uncertainty. This is the place they usually suggest in guidance books and in conversation to people like you. You didn’t know how to feel; the emotions washing over you were an odd sensation. Not good, not bad.

But scary, somehow.

Yoongi put a soft hand on your shoulder, making you turn, and asked, “Is that okay for you?”

“Yeah… it’s just… I’ve only really thought and read about therapy, but never quite seen an actual room like this.” You shook your head, clicking your tongue. “It’s crazy. How have I never been in one despite studying psychology for so long?”

“Hmm, many students haven’t been.”

“Yeah.”

You stripped your bag off of you, taking a seat on the cosy patient’s couch. Pulled out your laptop and placed it on the table between you and where he seated himself on the therapist’s chair.

Swallowing a strange lump, you cleared your throat, starting the study session with, “Okay, so… I was thinking about what you said about the research question last time.”

“Right…”

At this point, you couldn’t really fathom why, but he seemed reserved today, a little distracted. Still providing as much information and intellect as he could; but his thoughts were slower and his eyes gentler.

You think you studied barely forty-five minutes when Yoongi called for a break — unusual, because it was mostly you to announce a pause in thoughts, when your brain would demand a couple minutes of peace.

He sighed, hands touching his thighs and then got up to bring you something to drink. Came back with two cups of tea. You thought he’d be returning with a glass of water, but upon seeing the beverage, your eyes widened; you told him, “This is super nice of you, thanks.”

“Of course.” Pause. You slurped; then he did. A second later, he inquired, “Can I ask you something?”

“Mhm.”

You waited. Nothing came. You took another sip of the fruity winter tea in the middle of summer, wiping away the thin sheen of sweat under your nose that the heat caused. Then you looked up, big eyes staring into his just in time to see his mouth open.

“You always seem so surprised when I’m nice to you.”

Ah…

He’d said he’d had a question, but the indication of an inquiry, the one lifting in tone at the end never came. His statement was his question. And you thought it wasn’t the first time you heard it; you just never noticed you were doing it again.

Yoongi left the conclusion there, and the question mark hung somewhere between the two of you. Unspoken, containing a silent, ”Why?”

So you answered, “I just… uhm. People don’t just do something like this for me without me asking. It’s new to me how attentive you are.”

Sad. Just sad. You hated having to actually echo your innermost thoughts; you knew this wasn’t normal.

He knew, too, because he said, “This… is not how things should be.”

“But this is how they ended up being. I mean it’s just tea. But I don’t think anybody else sees me sitting there and goes like, Okay, I’ll do this lil something for her, you know?”

“Which is insane. You deserve it all so much. More than anyone I know.”

If you’d still been drinking, you would’ve choked. Those words were rare, not often uttered to you; how were you supposed to respond to them? You’d long forgotten how to react to things at all — it didn’t come too naturally to you anymore.

So all you did was laugh a little, as if replying to a joke. Genuinely, you wondered, “How can you say something like that?”

“Why not?”

“I mean, you probably know so many people.”

Yoongi blinked at you, as if waiting for your argument to proceed; but when it didn’t, he lifted a shoulder, steadfast with his opinion as he answered, “So? What do you think? That you feeling that way about yourself makes everyone else feel that way about you, too?”

You shrugged your shoulders just an inch, imitating his motions. Your gaze fell, as though catching yourself spewing pure gibberish. He continued, “You have a pure heart. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you being mean. And you’re strong, careful, and endure a shit ton.”

You looked up at him instantly. Let the last words reverberate in your mind, pushing them to the forefront between all your other messy thoughts. “Of course you knew,” you said.

“Of course. You’re so obviously hurt and I hate that you are.”

Well, you hated it, too. But…

Your desperation came out in a whisper, “I don’t know what to do about it…”

You put the cup back onto the saucer; your fingers were warm when you pushed them into your hair, pressing your palms against your forehead, holding onto your mane. Elbows on your thighs. The world spun again until you felt his hand on your arm once more.

“Hey.” He sounded softer again. “Do you want to take a longer break? We could stop for today and talk?”

“I don’t know…”

“You don’t have to. But it feels to me like you’ve never done that before… people don’t want to listen.” His words hit you like bricks. Like heavy cement bricks. The pain was excruciating. “Is that it?”

You were still staring at your lap when he posed the question; your head whirred, so you didn’t know where to start. Which is why you held onto the first complaint — you knew they were valid worries, but you always called them complaints, like you were a burden — and said,

“I just… I listen to everyone. I let people vent, I let them feel hurt, and I try to be there and lend a shoulder and just,” the words cascaded out of you like a wild waterfall; your throat clogged up again, “to be a good person and a good friend.”

You exhaled a shaky breath, the pressure back in your chest. “But why do I not get any of it back? Why is it that everyone goes silent when I’m hurting? Do I deserve this somehow?”

You felt tears pricking and burning in your waterline, and you blinked them away. Took another quick sip just to help your dry throat. Then, “I hate that I sound selfish? Like I only do things for people to get love back, but… that’s not it. I just want to feel worthy of something, too.”

“You don’t sound selfish. It’s never wrong or inhumane to demand affection and care, and if it is, then… every person’s selfish. Whatever.”

Up until that point, you hadn’t known that someone could be this tender and direct at once. Yoongi lived in a reality that wasn’t sugarcoated, but he understood empathy and heartbreak, knew to dip his words in an ointment alleviating enough.

You wondered what he’d endured to become this type of person; sympathy and a mind this sage often stem from grief once encountered, and you so hoped he was an exception to this belief of yours.

You looked at him with delicate fondness, mixed with some lasting trouble. He reached out, tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. You didn’t know what came over you when you leaned into his palm, kept his gaze, and stayed in place when he moved in.

Kissed you.

And you didn’t know why, but the moment opened your heart as if it’d been locked before; he was the key, undoing the lock so easily. That was when the first tear rolled down your cheek, meeting his skin, and you started trembling as he moved his mouth against yours.

You couldn’t grasp why he was doing it; even if parts of you knew. Did he not care that you were broken? That you were still breaking? That the ache always consumed you, that you felt whatever your brain inflicted on you throughout your entire body?

Maybe not. He always said you were funny, sweet, never humorous at anybody’s expense.

It was different from the things you’d heard before.

Nobody will love you like this.

Stop acting like you’re traumatised.

I didn’t love you — I kept you because you were attractive. Because you let me.

You had always asked yourself: why had your feelings always been shoved aside when you voiced your opinion? Whenever it differed from the one in your family or your friend’s circle?

Why were you told to never open up about your childhood memories? When you were caged in; when somebody three times your age indulged in impudence when they shouldn’t have, long ago when you were a child; when you fell in love at a later age and were forced to let go?

Why were you told you were tainted, that you couldn’t get any affection like this, to keep your pain to yourself and forget about your past? And why was this sequence of nightmares plaguing you right now, like you were dying, just when he was kissing you…

Because you were scared. So scared.

If you told Yoongi any of this, would he bolt? Would you hurt yet another person? Would he see you as a shattered porcelain doll, distance himself from you? Because honestly, why would he stay at all; with someone who hasn’t healed, who’d pulled him underwater, too?

Yet, you didn’t say any of this. You sighed; leaned into him. Took residency in his heart, cried into him.

He kissed you for another second, and then backed away. Wiped your tears. You broke and broke until your voice broke, too, giving way to quiet sobs.

You weren’t used to attention. You weren’t used to someone noticing.

And somehow, the realisation hurt anew, deep in your core and beyond.

Your tears had mostly dried when he resumed his position, sitting in front of you. His fingers were entangled and he waited.

Yoongi knew you’d cry again, though. The patient’s couch had some magic to it, his mother always said. They’d always cry, but they’d heal at the same time. Recognise hidden parts of themselves.

He was uncomplaining and composed, and kept looking at you until you said, “It just feels… like I’ll never be enough. I can do as much as possible, but none of it is ever seen because I’m taken for granted.”

“Who takes you for granted?”

“Everyone. I’ve spent many nights awake for people, and they abandoned me. In a crowd, others will always be praised for one thing and I’ll be ignored for the same. It’s made me bitter.”

He nodded in true therapist fashion, but his expression wasn’t as neutral as one; he looked pain-struck for you. Said, “You’ve been hurt… I see that…”

“I’m… hurting,” you corrected, “and I don’t know what to do.”

Yoongi attempted a different approach; you were in a hopeless spiral, and the strategy he needed to try wasn’t just to dig out your trauma, but to make you familiar with the good parts of your life, too.

So he asked, sincerely hoping you had an answer to his question, “Who could you trust as you grew up?”

“I don’t know…” Yoongi’s chest deflated, motivation dropping — that is, until you muttered, “My brother.”

“Parents?”

“Part of the problem.”

Okay; your answers came more rapidly now. He took it as a good sign; as readiness to talk.

“Where’s your brother?” he wondered.

“In this town,” you answered, and Yoongi sighed in relief. “But I can’t bother him with all of my shit.”

Your symptoms were as typical as they could be; you regarded your self-worth as buried deep under the ground, never wanting to disturb those who still deemed you close and loved. You’d established this distance between you and the others; he didn’t blame you.

The symptoms were typical.

“Why do you think so?” Yoongi prodded, whispering your name when you didn’t answer.

“I’ve bothered them all enough…”

“How so?”

Maybe he was doing too much. But it seemed you were on board with it; you weren’t complaining, not sighing, not withdrawing. You were listening and talking. Nobody let you talk, and now that you were, you looked like you needed to let it out.

You spat, “Because they never seemed to want to hear anything.”

God…

It hurt to see you like this. Damp eyes, a heavily rising chest, as if you were close to panicking again, but desperately holding back. He knew it; he saw it in the way you drew your breaths and in the things you said.

He knew you’d braved multiple nights and many, many sleepless hours before, spending these dark moments clutching your chest, trying to get rid of the unbearably tight feeling in your chest.

He knew that torturous pressure. He’d been there before. The persistent feeling of fear and unease — like somebody had dropped a weight onto his ribcage and tied up his stomach. The shallow breathing and thumping heart would strip him off focus.

Thoughts circling and circling, around each other; absolute bullshit most of the time.

He couldn’t imagine how overwhelmed you felt, but then again, he could. Was the world louder to you, too? The way it used to be for him. Did you hear that constant screaming in your head?

Vulnerable, senses heightened, sensitive to the slightest change.

He hated the thought of a wall between you and your peace. Hated hearing the words you narrated; of your home, of your childhood, of the people you met. The disrespect you suffered and the dirt you were treated as.

You deserved none of it.

Maybe he felt that way because nobody ever deserved it; or maybe because he knew he’d fallen in love with you. Not because he needed to save you, or because he felt like falling for someone who he’d have to fix could be a welcoming challenge.

He knew people who treated depression like this; saviour complex in full effect, they needed to be the hero or heroine to stitch a broken heart.

No — he fell for you because you were you. Despite everything and every pain you endured, you were still you; and most of the you that you were before you got hurt this badly was still there, under the surface.

He saw those joyful parts of you reemerge sometimes, breaking through the waves. Sometimes, right before your head would fall again; your body weightless; drowning — he saw those parts on those days for a split moment.

But not right now.

In fact, the true parts of you that knew to feel happiness were absent now, and he knew — in that sense, he was prepared for you to utter what you said next. Was ready to hear it, no matter how little he actually wanted to hear it.

“And sometimes, when it got too much…” You gulped. Yoongi knew what you’d say; he knew. But— “I didn’t feel like being here anymore. It seems that was the only and last time I opened my family’s eyes.”

But when you still said it, it stabbed his heart like a dagger.

“Only, after that… it soon became irrelevant again,” you continued, “they told me I should be thankful for being alive and regret the mistake I made… what I tried.”

And you spoke on. Spoke on and on. He leaned back, allowing himself a better position to breathe. His heart felt like a sewing pin cushion, riddled with tiny holes. His eyebrows furrowed in agony, but he saw worse pain in your eyes.

Tears slowly reappeared.

“And when I was judged for this, too… I realised I didn’t regret ever trying to leave the world. I regretted that I’d failed to do so.”

Maybe he felt that way because nobody deserved it; maybe because he knew he’d fallen in love with you.

But your words split him in a million tiny shards, like glass, until his pieces became tiny enough to resemble dust.

”Am a burden… Am fucking burdening you…”

Yoongi’s voice defeats the others in your head just barely; as if you’re separated by a glass wall and hearing him from afar, only clearing when you hammer through it and break the surface. He’s quiet compared to your cries, a hand firmly on your back.

His grip around you wants to glue you together so desperately; he’s not letting go, even though you get restless soon, quivering and ruining his shirt.

“Hey, baby…” you hear him say, but you interrupt, obstinately shaking your head.

“No… I’m— I never should’ve let you this close and—”

“No.” It’s his turn to interject. And he does it with determination; tone suddenly so low, cold, so you silence. “Stop.”

You do, only now noticing that he’s imprisoning your wrists in his grasp. Not painfully, but still solidly enough for you to understand what he means. You confirm it for yourself when you look up.

You already know your eyes are bloodshot, cheeks thoroughly wet; but you still recognise the heavy breaths he draws. See something entirely different in his eyes than yours.

Pain.

You hurt him. And this time, you could once again lament your destructive behaviour, argue how you keep inflicting these shit ass feelings on him. But…

The ache in his expressions says something else entirely. Fills you with hope, fills you with guilt.

Shows you that he despises the thought of you possibly regretting this relationship. His gaze proves that he doesn’t. That if he could go back in time and meet you again, talk to you again, fall in love with you again — he would.

You know it because he’s said it before. You know.

But your brain is half melting, hurting, spitting all negative assumptions at you like nobody’s business.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” you stammer, pierced by the sorrow in his eyes.

“What?”

“I… shouldn’t have said that,” you start, gulping. Your crying ebbs down for a second as you register the growing agony in his heart, and you explain, “You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me, but I can’t stop thinking that…”

Break in conversation.

Then him again, “…That?”

“That you’d be better off without me. That you’re here so I stay alive and that you’d be less burdened with someone else…”

Another pause.

He stares at you, as if pondering his answer. Bites into his lower lip softly and releases it right away. Blinks, looks to your wrists, lets go of them and then whispers, “Do you want to know? What I’m thinking, do you want to know that, too?”

“…What are you thinking?”

“That it’s true that I’m burdened.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck.

The pain is searing, a burning arrow shooting through your heart. It’s what you expected and what you feared and what still hurts so much upon hearing and—

Are you crying again? Are you tearing up? You don’t know.

You’re not sure, but it does seem like you’re breaking once more when he shushes you carefully, touching your cheek. He calms you, and then speaks again—

“Of course I’m burdened, too. Yeah, of course. I’d be lying if I said seeing you like this doesn’t make me feel helpless… but do you know what it means that I’m still here?”

Your voice trembles when you speak, “Because you’re scared of leaving me in this condition.”

“No. I learned early enough to prioritise myself when I need to. No, I’m not leaving because I don’t want to — simple. Because I’ll share your, mine and the world’s damn pain along with my heart. ‘Kay?”

Retrospectively, his words sound logical. He said it’s simple, and in some way, it is. If you didn’t have the brain that you have, it would be. If you weren’t so neck-deep in the quicksand pulling you into doubts, you’d be less surprised at the finality in his tone.

“Baby—” you start, but he squeezes your hand, eyes glistening.

“We have enough enemies in this world. Don’t regard me as one, too. Okay? Please…”

“No, you’re not,” you defend, moving your head and the palm on your cheek along with it, “you’re anything but that.”

He nods, sniffling; you know he’s holding back the same salty, pouring liquid as you. He’s always done that, providing a sense of strength and safety to make you feel just that.

“We’ll be okay one day, love. The world hurts us a shit ton, and life is difficult, but…” His voice cracks here, and he waits to regain control, sighing. “We only get one of it and… it’d be so unfair if we were destined to stay like this, right?”

You don’t believe in divine beliefs that seemingly predetermine how your life plays out. Fate or destiny or whatever synonyms to notions that Jung or Freud believed in. You’ve heard of this stuff plenty in your studies, but it never affected your curiosity much.

You know Yoongi isn’t necessarily a representative of it either; not one to dive too deep into things that suggest the potential absence of a free will.

But the thought provides hope when nothing else does. You know. The fact that you can’t leave this world without fixing things; that you’re here to contribute to much larger and more important things.

You cannot have been born to spend your days here without the joy you deserve.

You’ve felt much of it thanks to Yoongi, but you’ve had too many setbacks to call this a proper life. You don’t want to end it like this. You don’t want to grow old like this.

And you want to gift him the life he deserves, too.

Fuck…

You need to get better. You need to get better. You need to get better.

You need to help yourself. Even if it takes time; even if the non-linear process of healing irks you, stealing hope and leaving anguish in turn. And it’s as if Yoongi reads your mind when he says—

“It’s okay, you know? To feel that way. It takes time. It doesn’t matter how much, but it’s okay to fall back and have ups and downs, as long as you don’t give up. Yes?”

“I can’t, I know… I— I won’t give up. I just… need you to be here.” Your voice is unsteady, and your heart is, too; fickle as can be. But you’d rather hang onto the aspiration right now… nothing else. “Don’t ever leave me, okay? I’ll fix this for us, I will.”

“For yourself first. I’ll be here, no matter what.”

“…I love you.” Your breathing is staggered, leftover pain still keeping the anxiety in your chest. It’ll take a while. But there’s power in your admissions when you repeat, “I love you so much.”

You lean in carefully, and he mimes the movement, bending into your kiss. It’s a peck, soft and gentle and encouraging, and you murmur through your sniffles, “So, so much.”

And then you climb up, using all your strength. Half your body comes to a rest on his; the immediate proximity and warm touch evoke motivation and longing in your heart. For not only him, but every second of a possible serene future, too.

This very hope is often born and reborn at the end of your lowest lows. It’s what pulls you up again, keeps you going each time before the next valley can swallow you. Sometimes it takes longer, sometimes not.

But you so desperately want this. Want it to work now.

You want to be okay. Want to travel and soak in the sun. Want to dance in the rain and scream from the peak of a mountain; want to snorkel in clear, blue seas.

The life you picture for yourself, the one you follow in those healing vlogs on social media — it’s what you yearn for. It’s what you want to feel. With him on your side.

Sometime in the future, you see yourself beaming in genuine happiness, see yourself smiling. And you want to work towards it. You’ve always wanted to.

Ever since Yoongi first showed you what love, contentment and merriment felt like, you’ve craved this. Ever since that night he told you he loved you, despite everything.

Despite, despite, despite.

He was there to catch your fall when you couldn’t keep yourself upright anymore. When your knees weakened and the ground turned into clouds, and you plunged through them and towards the cemented earth that’d shatter you.

He aided you in staying whole. Let you lean against his shoulder, nodding off into a slumber there, allowing you to dream because until then, you didn’t dare to.

You thought dreaming was pointless; just a fabrication of the unconscious mind to distract you from the horrors of the world. To keep you occupied, to torture you even when asleep. As time passed, you started making these horrors your life, and the line between reality and fantasy thinned.

Until…

Until he turned those nightmares into daydreams. Blossoming, vibrant colours appeared where you’d perceived greys before. Somehow, you fell apart a lot less when Yoongi spent his time with you, taught you to love again.

You became less terrified by dreams then, because the content changed. And whenever you weren’t dreaming, away from sleep, you experienced the utopia you’d always sought.

The day Yoongi first told you he loved you, you’d long defeated the semester you’d so worried about; started and survived the one after; and were now already tackling your very last one.

Even after all these months, you never let him forget how grateful you were for passing the last summer semester eventually, and in return, he never let you forget that he’d stay even after.

You didn’t study all the time anymore either; now, your afternoons and nights were filled with gentle words, promising embraces, lips against lips. It took some time to truly open up. To stop feeling like you were making a mistake.

“Doing yourself to him,” you called it, as if you were about to hurl him into his very own mistake.

Even then, you wanted to get better for him; you knew it hadn’t and wouldn’t happen overnight. All of it was much easier said than done; healing sounds so doable for those who attempt to support those who need it, yet they cannot grasp the meaning of a broken heart and scared mind.

But there was something so wonderful about the simplicity between Yoongi and you. So simple that it called forth feelings so complex.

They were tough to navigate, but never tough to admit.

That March night, the sentiments roamed your body the clearest, even though the skies were anything but that. The thunder sounded like the universe had cracked; the white and silver of the striking lightning illuminated your room.

It was the night you felt hope in all its glory, for the very first time in years.

“You keep hiding from me,” Yoongi said, legs crossed like yours, sitting vis-a-vis.

He was close enough for your knees to collide, and when they did for the umpteenth time, he put a careful hand on your fingers resting on your thigh. You didn’t protest, so he didn’t withdraw.

“I’m not hiding from you. I just…” you stalled, “I just want you to be sure.”

“About you?”

If it had been this easy, you wouldn’t have asked. Because you knew the answer to this. Yoongi didn’t need to explain it to you; he was already certain about you to an indisputable degree.

You shook your head. Elaborated, “About everything. I don’t just come with the few good times we had the last couple of weeks. I come with… everything I’ve ever experienced and that shaped me into this.” You gestured over yourself. “You’d notice soon.”

“I already do.”

His answers and arguments came promptly, as if he knew the script to this talk and had already thought out every response he’d be giving. This was so effortless to him; thinking about it today, you wouldn’t even have needed to say a word.

But it was important to you. You couldn’t permit him to grow this attached without making sure.

“You just take it, do you? All that I am,” you concluded delicately; wanting to inform him, but so terrified of scaring him away. “But if you fall for me, then you’re committing. And I want you to think about it because I don’t— I don’t want to ruin your life.”

When he spoke again, he seemed to finally deviate from the script he knew; because confused, he asked, “If?”

“What?”

“What do you mean, if I fall for you?”

Oh… oh.

You understood. It didn’t take the tiniest of nanoseconds for you to fathom what he meant. And you could’ve sobbed right there and then, but the storm distracted you a little; the thunder was growling, threatening to explode again.

Somehow, the chaos outside kept you at bay. But only for so long.

“…Yoongi.”

His fingers moved from yours to your entire palm, taking it in his with a whisper of your name. Then, he clarified, “The possibility of something happening is redundant if it’s already happened, you know? And I’m…”

You held your breath, but at the same time, you were nearly panting. Maybe one first, then the other? You can’t remember anymore. You felt dizzy. Teary-eyed and joyful at once when you saw him at a loss of words.

“You’re?” you encouraged.

“I’m just so… feet deep underwater and in love with you that you couldn’t stop me if you wanted to.”

“I—”

“I love you. You know I do.”

Fuck… fuck, you knew.

Of course you knew.

Your heart was vile at times, cooperating with this demon of a brain and feeding you wrong information. But this, you knew. You fought through the congested mess of thoughts and admitted this to yourself every day.

Isn’t this why you were having this conversation in the first place?

But to hear him say it…

I love you.

You know I do.

“Even if you try to deny it,” he continued, “you know I love you and that I’ll keep doing it.”

This is when your waterline gave up; lined with the liquid you’d always held back. But why? There was no reason to. You felt at peace; Yoongi knew your heart. There was no use in keeping you closed off anymore.

So you cried. Let the first tear roll that he caught with his hand, holding your face so firmly that you thought it was the only thing keeping your head upright. Optimistic.

“There’s… there’s a chance that I start doubting you,” you contended for whatever stupid reason, sniffling, “that I doubt myself and then regret pulling you down with me and— there’s a chance I forget that you’ll keep loving me, no matter what, you know—”

“I’ll keep reminding you.”

“I’m a handful.”

“My hands are big enough, baby.”

The endearment didn’t slip past you, but instead made your beating organ swell. You don’t think you’d ever heard your pulse pounding in your eardrums this loudly. And he kept inching closer; his forehead nearly touched yours until it did.

“Can you love me even if I fall, Yoongi?”

“I’ll pick you up. You know that.”

“…What if you feel like you’re not good enough?”

Stop asking questions. Stop stop stop.

But he kept answering.

“Remember what you told me a couple days ago?” Yoongi asked, his voice quiet, drowning in the storm. “That it’d been long since you’d felt happy like this.”

“I do right now… I just…”

“Yeah, and I— I think. If I’m able to stay by your side and make you smile anyhow? Then I think this… we… are good enough.”

That’s it. Your throat was dry, your mind out of questions. You could renounce doubts if he didn’t have any either. He seemed convinced enough; so you admitted your own convictions to him, too.

“I’m… I love you, too. I love you, I fucking do.”

Your last word was cut, merely a breath. Swallowed when you leaned in and kissed him, pulling him back with you onto the bed. Yoongi landed on top of you, draping the two of you under the thin, floral blanket.

The early spring rain tapped your window softly before the gentle noise turned into more aggressive knocking and hammering. This very storm they’d announced was the reason Yoongi had stayed tonight.

That’s what he’d told you at least; in truth, it was an excuse.

Before today, you rarely spent your nights together.

Whenever you did, he allowed you your space in order to not overwhelm you. He knew you were cautious, slow, took your time to trust. He’d sleep on the couch or crawl back to you when you approached him in the dead of the night.

Touching his elbow gently, shaking him awake, telling him so sweetly that it drove him insane, “I don’t want to be alone.”

So he’d cuddle in when you sought out his arms, dozing so peacefully. It delighted him because whenever he didn’t slumber next to you, he’d hear you from the other room. Woefully moaning in your sleep, as if crying, turning.

He never saw or heard any of that when you leaned into his embrace, held onto his shirt. Never did anything more than sleep; he was content with that.

But tonight was different, less chaste than that — and he was content with that, too.

You said you’d wanted to talk. And you had. You’d trembled through the conversation, heart combusting in your chest like it wasn’t part of you anymore, that treacherous thing with its own, stupid will.

But it thumped differently now when he kissed you like this. You felt the change so clearly when he held you, pushing you into the mattress; stripping you naked bit by bit; asking over and over again if you were okay, if he should stop.

You lived differently, too, when he pecked your bare skin, up and down, from head to toe, to and fro. His tongue explored your waist and your thighs and the wetness between your quivering legs.

And you loved differently when he immersed himself in you. Sighing and moaning against you as his tongue lapped you up. You felt the chills everywhere. Felt your shoulders rise, your hand in his long hair, the oxygen running out.

You’d nearly forgotten how such a moment felt — then again, you’d never experienced it like this before. You could barely breathe, and for the first time, you loved it. For the first time, it wasn’t your usual reason.

But the picture of the man over you pumping himself, covering his cock in the condom you’d bought weeks ago, just in case. Back when he started hanging around at your place. He was surprised about your preparation; was delighted about it, too.

And God… God, when he kissed you, sheathing himself in you, every inch connected with every piece of you. Souls and hearts and bodies merging. Moving in and out slowly, then a little quicker, cradling your face and kissing your neck.

Between all that, he kept asking if you were doing okay, and you said you’d never felt better. And the best part was that you fucking meant it and that’s when you knew—

That Yoongi warmed your coldest, most frigid spots. Helped you find a sense of heat that you’d long forgotten, that not even summer could ever bring back. The spring was right inside you, in the middle of your chest despite the rain.

But at the same time, somewhere next to it, he was there, too, becoming the storm that raged outside.

All at once, you remembered again. Even if you might forget in your worst times; even if he’d really need to remind you again.

You remembered that you could be loved, and that you were deserving of love.

You remembered that love towards somebody is often subjective and it’s not entirely up to you who feels it for you, and that only because somebody else was unable to give it to you the right way… it doesn’t mean everyone would act the same.

Yoongi was the spring and the storm; the rainbow you saw the next morning as the sky cleared.

Your mother used to struggle with migraines. Back then, you’d see her tied to the bed for half a day, struggling to get up, sleeping for a couple hours after swallowing her sumatriptan.

The evening or the morning after, you’d ask her how she was doing, and she’d say the headache was gone, but that some of the pressure still lingered. She’d feel it in the heaviness of her head, like it was falling against her clavicles.

Back then, you were too young to understand; you still don’t suffer migraines, knock on wood. But you somehow get what she meant — you guess the same applies to any other part of your body.

Like the soul.

They say a body becomes lighter after death since the soul leaves; and the morning after bawling in Yoongi’s arms, you feel the opposite. Like your grief makes you weigh more than during your good days.

Like you’re heavier than a month ago, without gaining a single kilogram.

But at least that means you’re alive. A soul intact.

And, just like your mother’s medicine, the night alleviated at least some of your pain. Maybe it was the conversation with Yoongi. Maybe the reassurance that he didn’t perceive you as the task you thought you might be.

Many years ago, you refused to seek help in others; be it loved ones, a partner or a therapist. Yoongi taught you to own who you were and to admit the problems you faced; that they were as valid as anything else.

Living with him and loving him this profoundly showed you that it’s okay to confide in someone. That someone will care. But it also taught you that ultimately, nobody is responsible for your well-being as much as you are.

That to heal, you need to accept yourself. That to accept yourself, you need to acknowledge the issues you face.

And for that, you need to be ready to combat your demons, understand that they can be fought.

You’ve always known that. In that sense, it isn’t true that you’re fully dependent on Yoongi. You know deep down that you’ll be the one pulling you out of this.

But…

It’s never bad for someone to initiate that thought process, is it? Even when it’s you emerging from the grave you dug for yourself; it’s okay to grab the hand as the earth breaks, pulling you out of the dirt and darkness.

Yoongi is the rope helping you out; but you’re the one to walk on once the endless well ends and you spot the daylight. You can rely on him. You can rely on yourself.

You’ll be okay… you’ll be okay.

“Ready?” Yoongi asks as you slip into your shoes. You look up, and nod, your smile soft. “Just a few more days, right?”

Right.

You’ll live day by day. Survive the hours, strive towards a better future. Count your blessings, find things to look forward to. It’s alright to fall sometimes, and whenever you do, you’ll remember you’re not alone.

That you’ll get up eventually. You hold onto this.

And onto those few last days until vacation calls. You booked it so long ago; it can be that one thing to grasp, to look forward to, right?

And… you laugh. Because you remember Yoongi telling you to get your nails done, that he’d even go with you. “But do not forget, because blue suits Greece and I’d love to see the colour on you.”

You act like you don’t know what his plea means. You act like you don’t know how much he loves you. How this very approaching plan of his proves that he couldn’t even let go of you if you gave him another reason to.

Isn’t this enough to understand that he never feels guilty of loving you?

Why are you so afraid…

Because.

Yoongi never viewed your pain as something you had control over or something you caused; whoever hurt you is at fault, not you. And Yoongi knows that; knows that you matter, with your past and present and future, however cruel they might be.

But despite the fact that your past made you who you are, and that your future will determine how you’ll further turn out to be, Yoongi always preaches to focus on the controllable.

We won’t ever be able to manage the future entirely; maybe you won’t even ever be faced with the fears you harbour, you know? The past is the past, the present is the present and the future is the future. They will torment us if we put too much meaning in them.

I know it’s hard. But it’ll be alright. One day, it will be — you’re okay.

It has to be…

You’ll be okay. You’re okay.

The weather might change at warp speed — but soon, it’ll be sunny again.

i know i said it's okay if you skip this one, but if you're reading this, you might not have, and i'm thankful for that <3 i needed these feelings out of my system, so it felt very cathartic to me. maybe it helped you a little, too? i hope so, at least – things will be okay 🤍

what do you think? since you're here, i'd love to know how you feel about this piece 💕

#yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #bts fluff #bts angst #bts smut #yoongi fics #myg smut

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