#fluff and sads and sex

[cheers2hani]

it’s actually so frustrating seeing how little people care about my (and others) fluff/non smut works compared to my 18+ things

[kooklovee]

HOLD ON TO ME (m) - JJK

Your husband forgets your second anniversary. What starts as disappointment and heartbreak soon spirals into doubt- about your love, your marriage & whether he even sees you anymore. But when Jungkook realizes his mistake, he’s willing to do anything to prove that his love has never wavered..

Can he make it up to you, or is it already too late?

Pairing - CeoHusband!Jungkook x Wife!Reader

Genre - 18+, established relationship au, angst, fluff, smut, some more angst MDNI

ONESHOT - 11k words

Warnings - angsty ride, hurt/comfort, workaholic Jungkook, miscommunication, crying, deep emotional intimacy, slow build, Jungkook is an idiot but trust me he's sweet alright😭, Explicit smut- unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), soft dom Jk, nipple play, lots of kissing, love-making, creampie, pet names <3, praises, happy ending (sad ending's not in my veins🫸)

a/n- snsjkqkw It's my first fic (well more like I've taken the courage to actually post it)🥹 do let me know your thoughts on it <3 n consider a reblog if you like it, thank you for reading! 🫶

Masterlist kofi☕

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The soft glow of the overhead light casts long shadows across the dining room. But its warmth does nothing to chase away the cold emptiness creeping into your chest.

You sit in one of the dining chairs, fingers idly tracing the gold band on your ring finger, the once-familiar weight of it.. feeling heavier than ever. The house is silent, except for the distant hum of the city beyond the huge windows.

Jungkook is late. Again.

You’ve lost count of how many nights have passed like this, curled up alone in bed, the space beside you growing colder with each passing hour.

He always has a reason. A meeting that ran overtime, a last-minute project, something urgent that demands his attention more than you do. And you’ve always understood. Until now.

Your second anniversary is just around the corner, and for the first time in weeks, you have something to look forward to. Something that, surely, he wouldn’t forget.

You let out a slow breath, staring at the untouched dinner on the table. It’s the third time this week you’ve set two plates, only to eat alone. The food has long gone cold, but you still can’t bring yourself to clear it away. Some foolish, desperate part of you still hopes Jungkook will walk through the door, pulling you into his arms, murmuring apologies against your skin.

But the door stays closed. Your phone stays silent.

You check the time—almost midnight.

He used to call. Even when he was busy, he always found a way to let you know he was thinking about you. A quick text. A voice note. Something. Now, hours pass without a word, and you’re left wondering when exactly you started feeling like a ghost in your own marriage.

You clench your fists, blinking back the sting in your eyes. This isn’t you. You don’t doubt him. You don’t overthink things. But these days, love feels a lot like waiting, and waiting feels a lot like breaking.

And you’re so damn tired of breaking.

You close your eyes, trying to remember the Jungkook from before, before work took over, before the distance set in. The man who, despite his quiet nature, always found a way to make you feel cherished. He wasn’t one for grand speeches, but his words had always carried weight. Small, simple confessions once meant everything. Now, silence is all you get.

It wasn’t always easy with Jungkook. Back in college, he was cold, reserved, a storm you could never quite predict. But little by little, he let you in. His love had been careful, deliberate, whispered promises in the dark, stolen glances across crowded rooms, fingertips brushing against yours like a secret only the two of you understood.

And now, it feels like you’re losing him.

The thought sends a sharp ache through your chest. You tell yourself it’s just work, that the weight of being CEO is heavier than either of you expected. That he still loves you, even if he doesn’t say it as often.

But love isn’t supposed to feel like this.

The clock hits midnight.

You don’t know what you were expecting. A text? A call? Maybe the sound of the front door unlocking, Jungkook stepping in, exhausted but still managing to hold you close?

But there’s nothing.

Your throat tightens as you stare at the small cake sitting on the dining table, the frosting slightly uneven, the decorations a little clumsy. You were never a good cook. Jungkook knew that better than anyone. But in the early days of your marriage, you had tried. Because back then, cooking together had been something special. Flour-dusted fingertips, shared laughter over burnt pancakes, stolen kisses between stirring batter.

So tonight, with him too busy and too stressed, you thought a quiet, cozy celebration would be enough. Something small, something just for the two of you.

But now, looking at the untouched dinner, the unlit candle, and the cake that no longer seems worth eating, you realize how foolish that hope was.

You glance at your phone—no messages, no missed calls.

You put away the plates. You put the cake in the fridge, even though you know it’ll probably stay there, forgotten.

And then you crawl into bed alone, wrapping your arms around yourself because if Jungkook won’t hold you, who else will?

----

You stir, feeling the warmth of an arm lazily draped around your stomach. The weight is familiar, and for a moment it feels like everything is okay.

Jungkook is still asleep. Shirtless, his toned chest rises and falls in steady breaths, his face soft in the morning light. His dark lashes cast faint shadows on his skin, and his lips parted just slightly, making him look so much younger, so much more at peace.

You take your time looking at him, memorizing the exhaustion on his face, the faint crease between his brows even in sleep. He must’ve come home late—so late that you hadn’t even heard him.

Still, he’s here. Beside you. And that alone is enough to make something flicker in your chest.

Maybe he’s planned to stay home today.

Of course he remembers.

You can’t help but lean in, pressing a soft, loving kiss against his cheek. His skin is warm beneath your lips, and for a fleeting moment, everything feels like it used to.

Jungkook mumbles something incoherent, his brows knitting slightly before relaxing again. A small, sleepy noise escapes him, and the sound makes you giggle softly.

He stirs, his grip on your waist tightening just a little before his lashes flutter open. His dark eyes, still hazy with sleep, land on you, and for a second, there’s nothing but quiet warmth in them.

"You're up early," he murmurs, his voice thick with drowsiness. His thumb absentmindedly brushes over your waist, a touch so familiar yet so foreign all at once.

You smile, brushing a few strands of hair from his forehead. "Couldn't sleep much," you admit softly.

Jungkook hums in response, his eyes falling shut again for a moment. He nuzzles into the pillow, his grip on you still firm like he has no intention of letting you go. And for a brief, fragile second, the weight of last night, of the distance, of everything, seems to disappear.

Maybe he really did plan to stay home today. Maybe this morning means something.

Your heart clenches with the smallest trace of hope.

Jungkook lets out a long breath and shifts onto his back, stretching his arms above his head before blindly reaching for his phone on the nightstand. His warmth leaves your side, the air turning cold almost instantly.

You watch as his expression shifts, sleep slipping away as his screen lights up. His brows furrow, jaw tightening ever so slightly.

Then, with barely a glance in your direction, he mutters, "Shit, I need to get to the office."

The hope you held onto so desperately?

Gone.

You blink, your mind scrambling to catch up.

Maybe he's kidding. Maybe this is just one of his teasing games, the kind where he acts all nonchalant just to catch you off guard later. That’s how it used to be. Him pretending to forget something important, only to turn around and surprise you in a way that left you breathless.

So you wait.

You wait for the smirk to tug at his lips, for him to toss his phone aside and pull you into his arms. You wait for him to kiss you insane, to murmur a husky "Happy anniversary, baby," against your skin.

You wait for him to prove you wrong.

But he doesn't.

Jungkook swings his legs over the bed, rubbing a hand down his face before standing up. He moves through the motions—grabbing a fresh shirt from the dresser, checking his notifications again, already half-immersed in whatever work emergency is pulling him away.

The realization settles in. suffocating. He’s not playing. He’s not pretending. He really forgot.

And with that, the last flicker of hope inside you dies.

----

The sound of the bathroom door clicking shut barely registers in your mind. The faint rush of water follows soon after, but you’re still frozen in place, staring at the empty space where Jungkook was just moments ago.

Your fingers grip the sheets as you try to process it, try to make sense of the ache settling deep in your chest.

He forgot.

The thought circles endlessly, refusing to fade. It should be simple, just a mistake, something easily fixed with an apology. But it doesn’t feel simple. It feels like another crack in something that’s already been fragile for weeks.

Your gaze drifts to your phone, the screen lighting up with messages from friends and family. Warm wishes, sweet texts. All reminders of the day that Jungkook should have been the first to acknowledge. And of course, they must have messaged him too.

But you know the answer before you even have to question it. Jungkook has two phones—one for work, one for personal use. And these days, his personal phone sits untouched, collecting dust somewhere in the house while his work phone never leaves his side.

Your throat tightens.

Even if someone did remind him, would he have even seen it? Would it have even mattered?

You swallow hard, blinking against the sudden sting in your eyes.

Maybe you should say something. Maybe you should remind him.

But a part of you, one that you don’t want to acknowledge—wonders if it even matters anymore.

You push yourself up from the bed, the weight in your chest making it harder than it should be. You don’t want to sit here, waiting for him to remember, waiting for an apology that might never come.

So you move. Just as you step toward the bathroom, the shower turns off. The door opens a moment later, as Jungkook steps out, towel slung low around his waist, droplets of water trailing down his toned chest.

For a brief second, your eyes meet. He looks at you, blinking away the last remnants of sleep, his expression unreadable. There’s no sign of realization, no flicker of guilt or hesitation. Just the same tired, distracted gaze you’ve been seeing for weeks.

You say nothing. Instead, you walk past him, entering the washroom to go about your usual routine. brushing your teeth, washing your face, anything to avoid the tightness in your throat.

The sound of the sink running is the only thing filling the silence between you.

By the time you step out of the washroom, Jungkook is already dressed for work. His tie is slightly loosened, one hand adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves while the other holds his ever-present work phone. He looks like he’s in a hurry, but that isn’t surprising. He’s been having breakfast at the office for weeks now—always rushing out, always too busy.

Still, you can’t grasp that he’s actually forgotten.

Some part of you still expects him to pause, to turn around and say something. But he doesn’t. He’s focused on his screen, scanning through emails like today is just another ordinary morning.

Your chest tightens. You need to look away before the emotions creeping up inside you spill over. So, you pretend.

You settle at the table, opening your laptop like it’s just another workday. Since you’ve been working from home for the past couple of months, this isn’t unusual—but today, it’s not about work. It’s about avoiding him. About keeping your head down so he doesn’t see the way your hands tremble slightly.

If you act normal, maybe it’ll hurt less. Maybe you won’t break in front of him.

And maybe, just maybe, if you pretend hard enough, you can fool yourself into believing it doesn’t hurt at all.

“Baby, can you help me with the tie?”

His voice is smooth- like every other morning before this one. Like today isn’t supposed to mean more.

You hesitate for half a second before standing up, walking towards him. Your fingers move automatically, looping the fabric, tightening the knot, straightening it against his crisp shirt. You should pull away the moment you’re done, return to your seat, to your laptop, to pretending like everything is fine.

But just as you step back, Jungkook’s hand catches your wrist.

Before you can react, he tugs you closer, his warmth enveloping you as his large hand cups the side of your face, fingers splayed against your skin like he’s memorizing the feel of you. His touch is tender, his thumb tracing slow circles against your cheek, his dark eyes holding yours for a beat too long. like he’s seeing you, really seeing you, for the first time in days.

Then, he kisses you.

Warm & lingering. Like he actually means it. Like he actually feels it.

“Need it for good luck,” he mumbles lovingly against your lips, his voice deep, hushed.

You blink up at him.

Jungkook pulls back slightly, offering a small smile. “Big deal with the Kims today.”

And just like that, reality crashes back in.

Your mind struggles to process, to understand how he can be like this. How can he kiss you like this and still not remember.

His mind is somewhere else. His thoughts, his focus—none of it is here. None of it is with you.

You force a smile, nodding wordlessly. Because what else is there to say?

----

Jungkook moves around the house, gathering his things- his wallet, his keys. You stay where you are, settled on the couch with your laptop open, pretending to be busy, pretending that your heart isn’t sitting heavy in your chest.

Just as he’s about to leave, he steps toward you, bending down to press a quick kiss to your forehead.

“Love you,” he murmurs.

Before you can even respond, he’s already halfway through the living room, his focus elsewhere, his steps hurried.

A bitter chuckle escapes your lips before you can stop it.

You remember a time when things were different. When he used to whine, pout, and nudge you relentlessly if you didn’t say it back right away, just to tease him.

Flashback

The movie playing in the background had long been forgotten, the dialogue drowned out by the soft moans slipping from your lips. The purple neon glow cast dreamy hues across the living room, painting Jungkook’s skin in shades of violet as he moved above you.

His fingers laced tightly with yours, grip tightening slightly as his thrusts grew more desperate.

“J-Jungkook…” you moaned softly, nails digging into his hand.

He groaned against your neck, his breath hot, voice wrecked. “Fuck, baby…”

Your body arched beneath him, pleasure building to something uncontrollable. “I—I’m gonna—”

“Come for me, baby,” he urged, voice deep and rough, sending you tumbling over the edge.

You both unraveled together, gasping, shaking, holding onto each other like the world outside didn’t exist.

Jungkook pressed lazy, loving kisses all over your face, his lips brushing over your cheeks, your eyelids, the tip of your nose. “You alright?” he whispered.

You nodded, a sleepy, satisfied smile tugging at your lips. But then he just stared at you. A little too long. A little too intensely.

And then, barely above a whisper, like a secret meant only for you—he said, “I love you.”

Your eyes widened slightly, a playful grin tugging at the corner of your lips as you bit down on them, trying to contain your smile. He’d been saying it more often lately, slowly getting used to voicing what he felt.

But when you took a second too long to respond, he groaned dramatically, dropping his head into the crook of your neck like a kicked puppy.

“Say it back,” he grumbled.

“What?” you teased, laughing.

Jungkook huffed, then playfully bit down on your shoulder, just enough to make you squeal.

“Say it,” he demanded, his voice muffled against your skin.

Still giggling, you cupped his face and pressed a soft kiss to his nose. “I love you, you big baby.”

His grin was instant, arms wrapping around you as he pulled you even closer, like he could never get enough.

End of Flashback

Now, he just says it in passing. quick, thoughtless, already moving on.

The front door clicks shut, and just like that, Jungkook is gone.

You sit there, fingers motionless on your laptop’s keyboard as the weight of what just happened settles deep in your chest. He forgot. He kissed you, held you, told you he loved you, but none of it was because he remembered.

Is this what your relationship has become?

Work, work, work. Always work.

It’s not that you expect Jungkook to run behind you all the time, to ditch his responsibilities just to shower you with affection. Hell, you supported him through everything- through college, through late nights chasing his dreams, through every stressful moment leading up to him becoming CEO. You believed in him.

But what about your love? Your marriage? Communication?

You’ve been patient. Too patient. more understanding than any normal wife would be. And you know Jungkook. You know he loves you, would bring you the whole damn world if you asked. But then why—why are you beginning to question it all?

Jungkook stepped into the CEO position a few months ago. At first, things were fine. He handled it well, still made time for you. But then… everything became about work. Slowly, then all at once.

You can’t even remember the last time you had truly loving sex. Not that Jungkook doesn’t love you but it doesn’t feel the same anymore. There’s tension in his touch, frustration in the way he moves against you. It’s not the warmth, the desperation to be close to you like it used to be.

Is this how life is going to be from now on?

Sure, you could talk to Jungkook about your feelings. Tell him that the distance is starting to feel unbearable.

But when?

When he’s always checking his phone? When he barely even looks at you in the mornings? When you feel like you’re living with the CEO rather than your husband?

Well, happy anniversary to you.

----

Your gaze drops to your hand, to the delicate band wrapped around your finger.

Your wedding ring.

For the first time in a long time, you really look at it- tracing the intricate details, the subtle shimmer in the morning light. And suddenly, it feels… heavier. Like you’re only noticing the weight of it now, as if it’s trying to remind you of everything it once meant.

Before you even realize what you’re doing, your fingers slip beneath the band, sliding it off. It’s only when the cool air brushes against your bare skin that it hits you.

Your breath catches, eyes widening at the sight of the ring resting in your palm. You hadn’t even thought about it—you just did it. And now, staring at the small, beautiful piece of jewelry, something inside you cracks. Tears gather before you can stop them.

Jungkook had spent weeks searching for this ring. Dragged you to countless jewelry stores, analyzing every cut, every design, obsessed with finding the perfect one. And no matter how many times you had told him that anything would make you happy, he had refused to settle for less.

"It has to be special," he had murmured against your temple the day he finally found it, slipping it onto your finger with the softest smile. "Because you’re special."

A broken sob escapes your throat as you clutch the ring tightly in your palm.

How did you end up here?

----

Jungkook leans back in his chair, exhaling slowly as he watches the final contract details appear on his screen. The deal with the Kims had gone smoothly, better than expected, actually. It should’ve been a moment of satisfaction, of relief.

Instead, he just drowns himself in more work.

The hours blur together, his coffee going cold beside him as he moves from one task to another. Another meeting. Another report. Another email. The same routine, the same cycle.

It’s later than evening when a familiar voice interrupts the quiet hum of his office.

“So you’re really here.”

Jungkook glances up, his fingers still typing as Taehyung steps into his cabin, arms crossed, a deep frown on his face.

“Hey, hyung,” Jungkook greets, barely looking away from his screen.

Taehyung scoffs, shaking his head playfully. “I really didn’t believe it when Yuna said you were still in your cabin.”

Jungkook blinks, confused. “Why?”

Taehyung gives him a look like he’s the biggest idiot in the world. “Y/N must really love you to let you work even today. My wife—dude, she would’ve killed me.”

Jungkook hums absentmindedly, still typing, still lost in work. “Mmm.”

Taehyung clicks his tongue, watching him for a second before letting out a chuckle. “Anyways, you’re still an asshole for working on your anniversary.”

Jungkook’s fingers freeze over the keyboard. The realization crashes into him all at once, like a punch to the gut, like ice spreading through his veins.

Fuck.

Jungkook’s fingers hover motionless over the keyboard.

His mind races to catch up with Taehyung’s words, but they don’t make sense. Not right away.

Anniversary?

No, that can’t be right. His brows furrow slightly as he glances at the date on his laptop screen.

November 22.

His wedding anniversary.

For a second, he just stares, as if the numbers might shift into something else, something that doesn’t prove what an absolute idiot he’s been. His heartbeat picks up, but his body doesn’t move. It’s like his brain refuses to register it fully, like if he doesn’t react, it won’t be real.

He’d forgotten.

Completely.

No hints, no reminders, no last-minute realization before heading out this morning. Just an entire day of emails, meetings, and a deal he had been so damn focused on that he hadn’t even spared a single thought for you.

His wife.

But—no, that can’t be right. He would’ve remembered. He should’ve remembered.

His jaw tightens, his mind scrambling for some excuse, some reason. anything to justify how this happened. But no matter how many ways he tries to twist it, the truth doesn’t change.

You had expected something. Of course you had. And Jungkook had given you nothing.

Taehyung’s voice barely registers now, his casual teasing just background noise to the way Jungkook’s pulse is starting to hammer against his ribs.

His wife. His love. His anniversary.

And he had let it pass him by like it was just another day.

How the fuck is he supposed to fix this?

Taehyung squints at Jungkook, waiting for some kind of reaction. When Jungkook stays quiet, his fingers frozen over the keyboard, Taehyung lets out a sharp laugh.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” He leans forward, palms flat on Jungkook’s desk. “You just realized, didn’t you?”

Jungkook inhales deeply through his nose, his jaw tightening. “Hyung, not now.”

“Oh, no. Especially now,” Taehyung shoots back, shaking his head. “Damn, man. Y/N must really love you to put up with this shit.”

Jungkook doesn’t reply, his mind already spiraling. He checks the time—late. The entire day is gone. He’s spent hours sitting here, drowning himself in work while you—

Fuck.

He pushes his chair back abruptly, grabbing his phone and shoving it into his pocket. His coat is next, yanked from the back of his chair as he moves on instinct.

“Whoa, whoa.” Taehyung raises an eyebrow. “So now you care?”

Jungkook levels him with a glare, his voice lower, sharper. “Hyung.”

Taehyung lifts his hands in surrender, though his smirk lingers. “Go. Try not to get divorced on your second anniversary.”

Jungkook doesn’t wait for another word. He’s already out the door, moving faster than he has all day.

And for the first time today, work is the last thing on his mind.

----

Jungkook’s mind races as he grips the steering wheel, his fingers tightening with every passing second. The city lights blur past, but all he can focus on is the suffocating weight in his chest.

How the fuck did he forget?

His phone vibrates in the passenger seat- probably another work email but for the first time in months, he ignores it. Instead, he swipes through his contacts, pressing the first name that comes to mind.

“Pick up, pick up,” he mutters, jaw clenched as the dial tone rings.

“Yes, Mr.Jeon?”

“Yuna.” His voice is rushed, urgent. “I need you to get me something. Flowers. A gift. Something big—just—fuck, anything.”

A pause. “Sir?”

“Now,” he snaps.

There’s a shuffle on the other end before his assistant hesitantly speaks again. “I…Mr.Jeon, it’s almost 10 p.m. Most places are closed.”

Jungkook exhales sharply, raking a hand through his hair. Of course they are. Because he’s too fucking late.

His grip tightens around the wheel. “Just—check. Call whoever. I’ll pay whatever.”

“Understood,” Yuna replies before hanging up.

What the fuck is he even doing?

No expensive gift, no overpriced bouquet, no last-minute grand gesture can erase the fact that he forgot. That he spent an entire day drowning in work while you—his wife, his love, the woman who has stood by him through everything—sat at home, waiting for him to remember.

His hands clench the wheel.

How much had he missed? How much had he ignored?

And the worst part—the part that makes his pulse spike, that has panic clawing at his ribs is the question he doesn’t have an answer to.

What if you’re done waiting?

Jungkook slams his foot down on the gas.

He’s not losing you. He won’t.

----

Jungkook steps into the house, and immediately, something feels off. The air is still. The silence stretches, suffocating, pressing against his chest. Almost all the lights are off, the space eerily empty, like no one has been here for hours.

His throat dries. “Baby?”

No answer.

He frowns, dropping his keys onto the counter with a sharp clink. His feet move quickly, checking the kitchen, the living room, even the hallway leading to the bedroom. nothing.

A weird feeling starts creeping up his spine. His heart beats faster as he strides toward the bedroom door, only to find the bed untouched, the sheets exactly the way he had left them this morning.

You’re not here.

His pulse spikes, a cold sweat forming at the base of his neck. His hands tremble as he yanks his phone out, immediately dialing your number.

One ring.

Two rings.

Three.

Straight to voicemail.

His stomach drops. A shaky breath escapes him as he stares at his screen, the call log mocking him with the lack of response. His fingers tighten around the device, his mind spiraling.

Where are you? At this time of night, alone- where could you have gone?

The walls feel like they’re closing in on him. His lungs strain for air.

Then, another thought claws its way in, violent and unwelcome.

Did you leave?

No. No. His chest tightens, his breath coming faster now. That’s not—that’s not possible. You wouldn’t just leave him. You wouldn’t—

He swallows hard, shaking his head. Don’t go there, Jungkook. Don’t even fucking go there.

But the panic is already curling around his ribs, suffocating, unrelenting.

You’re not here. And right now, that is the worst fucking thing in the world.

Jungkook’s fingers tremble as he redials your number.

Voicemail. Again.

“Fuck.” His breath comes out uneven, panic clawing at his throat. His hands are clammy, his chest tightening with every passing second. Where are you?

His mind is spiraling now, every worst-case scenario flashing through his head. His jaw clenches as he swipes to his contact list calling your friends.

Each time, the same response.

No, I haven’t seen her.

Did you check with—

Wait, what’s going on?

Jungkook grits his teeth, his hand tightening into a fist. His breathing is shallow, his pulse out of control. You weren’t with your friends. You weren’t picking up. You weren’t home.

And he still had no idea where you were.

Jungkook grabs his car keys with shaky hands, his mind racing. He doesn’t know where to go, doesn’t have a plan. All he knows is that he has to find you.

His feet move on instinct, carrying him toward the door. But just as he reaches for the handle, something catches his eye.

A small glint.

His breath stills. His gaze shifts toward the couch, and that’s when he sees it.

Your wedding ring.

Sitting there. Abandoned.

For a moment, everything stops. The pounding in his chest, the rush of his movements—everything.

The air in the room feels heavier, suffocating. His fingers twitch at his sides as he stares at the delicate band, his stomach twisting into something painful.

You never took it off. Never.

Jungkook swallows, his throat suddenly dry. He steps forward, slowly, almost cautiously, like touching it will somehow make this nightmare real.

His hand trembles as he picks it up, the cool metal pressing into his palm..

Jungkook stares at the ring in his palm, his vision blurring as a lump lodges itself in his throat. Tears burn at the corners of his eyes, his chest tightening painfully.

You wouldn’t just leave him like that… would you?

The thought alone knocks the air from his lungs. His grip on the ring tightens as his mind spirals, drowning in questions that only make the ache worse.

Were you thinking about this before today?

How long have you been feeling like this, so alone, so unloved that taking off your ring even crossed your mind?

A sharp breath escapes him, shaky and uneven. His knees buckle, and before he can stop himself, he’s sinking onto the floor, the weight of everything crashing down at once.

The ring feels heavier than it should, pressing into his palm like a cruel reminder of everything he’s neglected, everything he’s taken for granted. He squeezes his eyes shut, exhaling a slow, trembling breath.

He needs to find you. He needs to fix this.

Before it’s too late.

Jungkook exhales shakily, forcing himself to move. His legs feel unsteady, but he pushes through, gripping the wedding ring so tightly it bites into his skin.

Somehow, he manages to stand, his entire body tense with desperation. He stumbles toward the door, his heart pounding, his mind racing with every possibility of where you could be.

But just as his fingers reach for the handle—

The door swings open.

And there you are.

Jungkook freezes, his breath catching in his throat. For a split second, everything stills. His panic, his thoughts, his entire world narrowing to the sight of you standing in front of him.

Then, in the blink of an eye, he moves.

He crashes into you, arms wrapping around you so tightly it nearly knocks the air from your lungs. His grip is desperate, his hands fisting into your clothes, his entire body pressing against yours like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

You stand there, stunned, your own arms hovering slightly, unsure of what just happened.

"…Jungkook?” your voice comes out confused, hesitant.

But he just clings to you, burying his face into your neck, his breath warm and uneven against your skin.

You don’t know what’s going on.

But Jungkook?

He feels like he just got his heart beating again. You feel the way his body trembles against yours, his grip impossibly tight, like he’s holding onto you for dear life.

Then, the sound reaches you. A broken, uneven breath, followed by the unmistakable hitch of a sob.

Your heart clenches. “Kook…” Your voice is soft, laced with worry as you try to pull back, just enough to see his face. But he doesn’t let you. His arms only tighten, his body curling into yours, as if letting go would physically hurt him.

Panic bubbles in your chest, your hands instinctively reaching up to cradle his face, your fingers threading into his hair. “Hey… what happened?” Your voice wavers slightly. “Are you okay? You’re scaring me.”

But Jungkook just shakes his head against your shoulder, another quiet, shaky breath leaving him.

You don’t understand.

But whatever this is, whatever’s breaking him like this—your own heart aches just watching him fall apart. Your concern deepens with every shaky breath that leaves Jungkook. He’s still clinging to you, his body trembling slightly, his face buried against your shoulder like he’s afraid to let go.

You don’t know what’s wrong, but seeing him like this—Jungkook, your Jungkook—completely unraveling, is enough to make panic rise in your chest.

Gently, you pull back, your hands cupping his face. His skin is warm, slightly damp from his tears, and when his glassy eyes finally meet yours, your stomach twists painfully.

“Come inside,” you whisper, your voice softer now, coaxing. “Please.”

He swallows thickly, nodding ever so slightly, but his grip on you doesn’t fully loosen. You guide him inside anyway, one hand wrapped around his wrist as you lead him toward the couch.

He sits down heavily, elbows resting on his knees, fingers threading through his hair as he exhales shakily. His shoulders are still tense, his whole body radiating something raw and unspoken.

You kneel in front of him, reaching for his hands, but he doesn’t lift his head.

Your worry deepens. “Jungkook… please tell me what’s wrong.” Silence stretches between you, heavy and suffocating. His fingers twitch against his temples, his breath uneven.

“I—” His voice is hoarse, cracking slightly. He swallows hard, gripping his knees. “I thought you left me.”

You blink, his words settling in, but it takes you a moment to fully process them.

He thought you left him?

Your brows furrow slightly as you shake your head. “Jungkook, I was babysitting Hanuel.”

His breath is still uneven, his hands gripping his knees like he’s trying to ground himself. His eyes flick up to meet yours, confused, searching.

“Hana and Seokjin had a date night,” you explain gently. “They asked me to watch him for a few hours.”

Hanuel, your neighbour's son. Jungkook stares at you, his body still tense, like his mind hasn’t caught up yet. You watch as his lips part slightly, his gaze flickering between you and the ring still clutched in his hand.

His fingers tighten around it, his knuckles paling. A beat of silence passes before he swallows thickly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“…Then why was this on the couch?”

The question hangs heavy in the air, fragile and uncertain, as if he’s afraid of the answer. And for the first time tonight, you don’t know what to say.

“I…” The word barely escapes your lips before you stand up, turning away from him. You can’t meet his eyes, not when your emotions are still raw, not when the weight of everything is pressing so heavily on your chest.

Jungkook notices immediately. Panic flickers across his face, and in an instant, he’s scrambling up after you. “Wait—baby, please.” His voice is desperate now, thick with emotion, his hands reaching out like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, stepping closer, his tone cracking under the weight of his own guilt. “I—fuck, I forgot—I don’t know how, I don’t even have an excuse, but—” He exhales sharply, shaking his head, his eyes glassy as they plead with yours.

“I never meant to make you feel like this,” he whispers. “I swear, I didn’t.” But you still don’t look at him. And that alone is enough to make his heart sink.

You swallow hard, your arms wrapping around yourself as you stare at the floor. His words, his desperation, his guilt—they all swirl around you, but they don’t erase the ache in your chest.

“Do you even realize how much this hurt?” Your voice is quiet, but the weight of it makes Jungkook flinch. “I spent the entire day thinking—hoping—that maybe you had something planned. That maybe you were just pretending to forget.”

Jungkook’s throat bobs as he steps closer, hesitating before reaching for your hand. You don’t pull away, but you don’t hold onto him either.

“I know,” he whispers. “I know I fucked up, baby. I—I was so caught up in work, I just…” He trails off, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “That’s not an excuse. Nothing is. I should’ve remembered. I should’ve been there.”

You let out a hollow laugh, finally lifting your gaze to meet his. “Jungkook… this isn’t just about today.”

His brows furrow, but he doesn’t interrupt.

You take a shaky breath. “It’s been weeks..maybe even longer—since I felt like your wife instead of just… someone waiting for you to come home.” Your voice wavers, but you push through. “And it’s not that I don’t understand. I do. I’ve always understood. But at what point do I stop being understanding and start being invisible to you?”

Jungkook’s breath catches, his grip on your hand tightening like he’s afraid to let go. “You’re not invisible,” he says, voice thick with emotion. “You never could be.”

“Then why do I feel like I am?”

Silence.

Jungkook shakes his head, his jaw clenching as he exhales unsteadily. “I never wanted to make you feel this way,” he murmurs. “You are everything to me, baby. Everything. I don’t even know who I am without you.”

Your eyes sting, but you force yourself to hold his gaze. “Then show me, Jungkook. Because I can’t keep being the only one fighting for us.” The vulnerability in your voice nearly breaks him.

He’s been losing you, piece by piece, for a while now. And he hadn’t even noticed.

Jungkook feels his stomach drop, the weight of your words hitting harder than any argument, any fight you could have thrown at him. His grip on your hand tightens, but you don’t squeeze back.

He’s losing you.

And it’s not because of one forgotten anniversary—it’s because he hasn’t been here.

He swallows hard. “Baby…” His voice cracks, his free hand reaching up to cup your cheek, but you step back before he can touch you.

The distance, however small, is enough to make his chest ache.

“Tell me, Jungkook,” you whisper, your voice barely holding together. “When was the last time we sat down and had breakfast together? When was the last time you really looked at me—not just kissed me on the forehead before rushing out the door?” You shake your head, a bitter chuckle escaping. “When was the last time we made love without it feeling like you were trying to release your stress instead of loving me?”

Jungkook’s breath hitches.

You let out a slow exhale, your voice calmer now but even heavier with hurt. “I don’t need grand gestures. I don’t need fancy gifts or a picture-perfect romance. I just… needed you to see me.”

His entire body feels cold. Because the truth is—he doesn’t have an answer.

He’s been so caught up in his responsibilities, his work, his stress, that he’s let the one person who has always been there for him slip through his fingers.

And the worst part? He didn’t even realize it was happening until now.

“Fuck.” His voice is raw, his hands running through his hair as he looks at you, really looks at you. At the exhaustion in your eyes, the way your lips tremble slightly like you’re holding back everything.

His heart clenches painfully. “I fucked up, didn’t I?”

You don’t answer right away. Instead, you hold his gaze for a long moment before whispering, “I don’t know, Jungkook. Did you?”

Jungkook's breath is unsteady, his chest rising and falling too quickly as he stares at you, at the distance between you, the weight of your words suffocating him.

He moves. Before you can react, his hands are cupping your face, his touch desperate, almost shaky. His forehead presses against yours as he exhales a trembling breath, like he’s trying to hold himself together.

“I see you,” he whispers, his voice raw, strained. “I swear to god, I see you, baby. I just..I lost myself somewhere along the way, and I didn’t even realize I was dragging us down with me.”

His thumbs brush over your cheekbones, a silent plea laced in his touch. “I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you.”

Your heart clenches, but you don’t push him away. You should- you should make him sit with this, make him feel what it’s been like for you all this time. But then his grip tightens, his voice breaking.

“Please, baby.” His lips hover just above yours, not quite touching, his breath warm against your skin. “Tell me it’s not too late.”

His vulnerability shakes you to your core.

You close your eyes, inhaling deeply, trying to steady yourself. “I don’t want to lose us either, Jungkook,” you whisper. “But I can’t keep being the only one holding on.”

Jungkook shakes his head instantly. “You’re not. You won’t be.” His lips ghost over your forehead before he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. “Let me prove it to you. Please.”

His desperation is tangible, seeping into every word, every touch. And for the first time tonight, you wonder if maybe, just maybe—he really does see you now.

Jungkook watches you, searching for something—anything in your eyes that tells him he hasn’t completely lost you.

Before doubt can settle in, he takes your hand, pressing it over his chest, right where his heart is hammering wildly. “Feel that?” he whispers. “That’s what you do to me, baby. Always.”

Your fingers twitch against his shirt, but you don’t pull away. You don’t move at all, just staring up at him, your expression unreadable.

He swallows hard. “I know I don’t say it enough. I know I don’t show it enough, but fuck, Y/n—” His hands tighten around yours, his voice barely above a breath. “There is nothing in this world that matters more to me than you.”

You let out a slow exhale, your gaze flickering, like you want to believe him. like a part of you does, but the hurt is still too fresh. So he gives you more.

“I’ll fix this,” he promises, his thumb brushing soft circles over your wrist. “Not with flowers, or gifts, or some last-minute bullshit—but with me. With us.”

His voice drops lower, thick with emotion. “Just tell me it’s not too late.” Your lips part slightly, but you don’t speak. Instead, you finally—finally press your palm flat against his chest, feeling the way his heart beats erratically beneath your touch.

It’s enough to break something inside Jungkook. His grip tightens as he leans in, his lips brushing against your temple, then your cheek—slow, hesitant, as if he’s still afraid you’ll slip away.

And when you don’t, when you let him, he exhales a shaky breath, his forehead resting against yours once more.

“I love you,” he whispers. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Like if he says it enough, he can make up for all the times he didn’t. And maybe, just maybe—you’ll believe him again.

Jungkook’s breath is warm against your skin, his forehead still pressed against yours, his grip on you unwavering. His words linger in the air between you. raw, desperate, filled with a love that had always been there, even when he’d failed to show it.

You swallow hard, blinking against the tears clouding your vision. He’s waiting—watching you so intently, so hopelessly, as if your next words will either put him back together or completely shatter him.

You take a shaky breath. “Jungkook…” Your voice wavers, and his grip tightens instinctively. “I love you too.”

A sharp exhale leaves him, his entire body sinking slightly in relief. But before he can say anything, you continue. “But this hurt,” you whisper. “More than you realize.”

Jungkook stiffens, nodding quickly, his hands cupping your face again, his thumbs brushing away the tears that slip down your cheeks. “I know, baby. I know. And I hate myself for it.” His voice cracks, his jaw clenching before he presses a lingering kiss to your forehead.

You let your eyes flutter shut for a second, exhaling slowly. “I don’t want promises, Jungkook,” you murmur. “I just… I need to feel like I matter to you again.”

His hands tremble slightly as they slide down, wrapping around yours. He lifts them to his lips, pressing gentle, reverent kisses to each of your knuckles, his dark eyes never leaving yours.

“You do,” he whispers. “More than anything. And I’m going to spend every damn day proving that to you.” His voice is steady now. no hesitation, no doubt. Just quiet, determined love. And though the ache in your chest hasn’t fully faded, something shifts.

Because this time, you don’t just hear him. You believe him. Even if just a little.

Jungkook presses another lingering kiss against your knuckles, his touch reverent, as if grounding himself in you. But before he can lose himself completely, you gently murmur, “Have you eaten?”

The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. He shakes his head, gaze still searching yours. “No… I—"

“Go freshen up,” you say softly, stepping back just a little. “We’ll eat together.”

His fingers twitch against yours, hesitating to let go, but eventually, he nods. With one last glance—like he’s making sure you’re really here, he pulls away and heads toward the shower.

While he’s gone, you move to the kitchen, setting out dinner in quiet contemplation. The ache in your chest hasn’t completely faded, but there’s something else now- a warmth that wasn’t there before.

----

By the time Jungkook emerges, hair damp, dressed in a fresh t-shirt and sweatpants, you’ve already placed the food on the table.

He hesitates for only a second before joining you, sliding into his chair. “Thank you,” he murmurs, voice softer now.

You nod, offering a small smile as you take a seat. The conversation is light, effortless. Jungkook fills the silence, stealing glances at you like he’s still memorizing you all over again. And through it all, his hand never leaves yours, his thumb rubbing slow, soothing circles against your skin.

After dinner, he helps with the dishes, working beside you in quiet understanding. The air between you feels lighter, yet still fragile, like something delicate being pieced back together.

Jungkook sets the last dish onto the drying rack, wiping his hands on the towel before turning to you. There’s a soft, almost hopeful look in his eyes, like he’s clinging to this moment.

You step away, hesitating for just a second before opening the refrigerator. Jungkook watches in silence as you carefully pull out the cake, placing on the counter, your fingers grazing the edges of the plate, before finally speaking.

“I…I’d made this.”

The words are quiet, but they hit harder than any raised voice ever could. Jungkook’s entire body stiffening as guilt crashes into him all over again. His eyes flicker to the cake- to the careful details, the effort, the thought you had put into it, for him. And suddenly, it feels like the walls are caving in.

His throat tightens. His fingers curl at his sides. He can’t look at you. He doesn’t deserve to. Tears gather in his eyes, blurring his vision, his heart breaking all over again, not just because he forgot today, but because he had broken you in so many ways without even realizing it.

And that? That’s something he doesn’t know how to forgive himself for.

“Jungkook..”, your voice barely above a whisper, but it cuts through the heavy silence like a knife.

He wants to look at you, wants to say something—anything, but he can’t. His head remains bowed, his hands gripping the edge of the counter, as if holding himself together takes everything in him.

You take a small step forward, the space between you feeling larger than it actually is. His silence is deafening.

“Jungkook,” you say again, a little firmer this time.

His lips part, a shaky breath slipping through, but no words come out. He wants to speak, to apologize again, to tell you how much he loves you, to somehow fix this- but his throat feels tight, his chest heavy.

He doesn’t know if words are enough.

“I… I’m so fucking sorry, baby,” Jungkook chokes out, his voice trembling as he finally speaks. His hands shake at his sides, his eyes still glassy with unshed tears. “I’ve been an asshole—a terrible husband. I don’t even know how to make this right.” His breath stutters, his words spilling out faster now, raw and desperate.

“I wouldn’t even be surprised if you left me,” he continues, shaking his head. “You should’ve. You deserve better. I—I can’t believe I—”

“Jungkook.”

You don’t let him finish.

Instead, you reach up, cupping his face with both hands, your thumbs brushing away the tears that have already begun to fall. His lips part in surprise, his rambling cut off as you rise onto your toes.

A gentle kiss on his lips.

Soft. Loving.

Tear-streaked and real.

Jungkook exhales shakily against your lips, his whole body melting into yours. His hands find your waist, holding onto you like you’re the only thing keeping him upright.

The kiss is slow, there's no desperation, no urgency. Just you and him, emotions bare. Tears continue to slip down your cheeks, mixing with his, salty and warm, but neither of you pull away. Because in this moment, there’s no need for words.

Just this.

Just love.

When you finally pull away, your forehead rests against his, both of you breathing heavily, your tears still wet against each other’s skin. Jungkook’s grip on your waist is firm, like he’s grounding himself in your touch, afraid to let go. His lips part, like he wants to speak, but before he can, you whisper,

“You’re not a terrible husband, Jungkook.”

Jungkook’s eyes glisten with more unshed tears, his lips pressing into a thin line, unable to speak. You wipe his tears away with your thumbs, offering him the smallest smile. “Just… love me better, okay?”

His throat bobs as he swallows hard, nodding again, more determined this time. “I will.” His voice is barely above a whisper, but you believe him.

You press one last gentle kiss to his cheek before stepping back, glancing at the cake still sitting on the counter. “Come on,” you say, nudging him lightly. “Let’s cut this before it melts.”

Jungkook lets out a breathy chuckle, wiping at his face as he nods. He steps beside you, his hand instinctively finding yours again as you both move toward the small cake. The two of you cut into it together, Jungkook’s fingers lacing through yours around the knife handle. He doesn’t let go, even as you both take small bites in comfortable silence.

Once the plates are cleared, you tug at his wrist, nodding toward the bedroom. “Come to bed?”

Jungkook exhales, relief washing over his features as he nods. “Yeah.”

A few minutes later, you’re both under the covers, warmth surrounding you as Jungkook pulls you against his chest. His arms wrap tightly around you, his breath fanning against the top of your head as he whispers,

“I love you.”

This time, you don’t hesitate to say it back.

“I love you too, Jungkook.”

And for the first time in weeks, you fall asleep in his arms, where you’ve always belonged.

Jungkook’s fingers still tremble against your skin. Even as he holds you, his grip is laced with hesitance, a silent fear lingering beneath the warmth of his touch. It’s in the way his hands press into your back yet remain careful, as if he’s afraid of holding on too tightly.

You can feel the erratic thud of his heart beneath your palm, his breaths uneven, his chest rising and falling as if he’s struggling to keep himself steady.

And something about that, about him—makes your own heart ache.

Slowly, you lift your head from his chest, your eyes locking onto his in the dim glow of the room. His lips part slightly, his gaze unreadable, but the moment you lean in, his breath catches.

You kiss him.

It starts soft, so gentle, full of longing. Filled with everything you can’t put into words.

Jungkook melts into it instantly, his grip on you tightening, pulling you impossibly closer. The warmth of his lips, the slight hitch in his breath when you press harder. It sends a familiar heat curling through you.

The kiss deepens, your fingers gripping his t-shirt with urgency, needing to feel more. It’s desperate, heady, the space between you charged with something deeper than just want—something raw, something that had been missing for too long.

Jungkook pulls back gently. His forehead stays pressed against yours, both of you panting softly, but his hands shake slightly as they hold you in place.

His lips part, his breath uneven. “I… we shouldn’t…” He swallows hard, voice thick with hesitation. “I mean… I don’t want you to think I’m gonna fix this with sex.”

His words cut through the haze of warmth between you, grounding you both back in reality. You understand. Because even now—even now, he’s afraid. Afraid that this isn’t enough. Afraid that he isn’t enough.

Your eyes soften as you take in his hesitance, the uncertainty in his gaze, the way his breath trembles against your skin.

You reach up, your fingers threading gently through his hair. “I’m never gonna think like that, Kook,” you murmur, your voice quiet but sure.

His lips part slightly, his brows still knitted in concern, but before he can say anything, you lean in again. This time, the kiss is softer, filled with nothing but love.

You linger for a moment, your lips brushing against his as you whisper, “I just… I need you.” Another soft kiss. “Please.”

Jungkook exhales sharply, his entire body shuddering under the weight of your words.

And just like that, whatever hesitation he had left—it’s gone.

Your breaths grow uneven as your lips move against his, the heat between you intensifying with every passing second.

Jungkook shifts, his body hovering over yours, his weight pressing down just enough to make you feel him. His hands slip beneath the oversized t-shirt you’re wearing, his touch still hesitant, fingertips ghosting over your waist like he’s memorizing the feel of you all over again.

But you don’t want hesitation.

You tug at his shirt, a silent plea, and Jungkook obeys without question, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside. Before he can think, you pull him back in, capturing his lips in another deep, hungry kiss.

A quiet groan escapes him, his hands finally exploring freely, pressing against your skin, feeling the warmth beneath his palms. His lips leave yours only to trail down your neck, his breath warm as he presses soft, lingering kisses there.

You shiver when he reaches the collar of your shirt, your own hands moving to help him remove it. Dark, love-filled eyes roam over every inch of your skin, his lips parting slightly, as if he’s trying to find the words but nothing he could say would ever be enough. Still, he tries.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, voice thick with awe. “So fucking perfect.”

Your breath catches when he lowers himself again, his lips planting soft, reverent kisses along your collarbone, trailing lower over your shoulder, your chest. Your husband's mouth mapping you like you’re something sacred.

His lips slowly wrap around one breast, his tongue flicking teasingly before sucking softly. A moan escapes you, your fingers tangling into his hair, tugging lightly as he hums against your skin. His other hand moves to your neglected breast, his thumb brushing over the sensitive peak as he keeps mouthing sweet nothings against you.

“You’re everything,” he whispers between kisses, his voice muffled against your skin. “I love you so much, baby.”

And as the heat between you builds, his touch grows bolder. A desperate whimper escapes your lips as your fingers tangle deeper into Jungkook’s hair, your body arching toward him, silently pleading for more.

He groans against your skin, the sound low and warm, vibrating through you. “Patience, baby,” he murmurs, pressing another lingering kiss to your chest before trailing lower, his lips tracing the curves of your body. “Let me take my time… let me make love to you.”

The way he says it, love—makes your stomach tighten, your heart aching as much as your body craves him. His hands glide down your waist, slow and purposeful, before slipping between your legs. His fingers find the damp fabric of your panties, pressing just lightly enough to make you gasp. Your hips lift instinctively, chasing his touch, and Jungkook groans at the feeling.

His dark eyes meet yours, silently asking for permission. You nod, unable to form words, and that’s all he needs.

Hooking his fingers into the waistband, he tugs your panties down, dragging them slowly along your legs before discarding them somewhere behind him. His gaze never leaves you as he lowers himself further, trailing kisses down your stomach, over the sensitive skin of your hips.

He settles between your legs. You feel completely bare under his intense gaze, the way his lips part slightly, his eyes darkening as he drinks you in.

“So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice filled with something reverent, something devoted. His hands spread your thighs wider, his thumbs brushing along your skin in slow, soothing circles.

“My wife.”

The words send a shiver down your spine, making your core clench in anticipation.

Finally, he closes his mouth around you. One long, slow stroke of his tongue, and you fall apart instantly, a breathless moan slipping from your lips as your head tilts back against the pillows.

Jungkook hums against you, pleased, his hands gripping your thighs as he licks another slow, teasing stripe through your folds. “So fucking sweet,” he groans, the heat of his breath against your slick skin making your body tremble. “Gonna make you feel so good, baby.”

He isn't just making love, he's devouring you.

Jungkook hums against you, the vibration sending a shockwave of pleasure up your spine. His hands grip your thighs, holding you open as his tongue moves with slow, deliberate strokes. learning you all over again, savoring every little gasp and shudder that escapes you.

“Jungkook—” Your voice is breathless, almost pleading, your fingers tightening in his hair, tugging him closer.

He groans at that, the sound reverberating through your core as he laps at you with more purpose. His tongue flicks over your clit, teasing, testing, before he sucks gently, making your back arch off the bed.

“Fuck—” You whimper, your thighs threatening to close around his head, but his strong hands keep you spread wide, completely at his mercy.

His lips brushing your sensitive skin as he pulls back just enough to look up at you. His lips are slick, his dark eyes burning with desire.

Your cheeks burn, he dives back in, this time with more urgency. His tongue moves in tight circles, alternating between slow, teasing strokes and deeper, firmer licks that have your breath hitching.

One hand slides up your stomach, fingers splaying across your skin before reaching your breast, rolling a nipple between his fingers. The combined sensation makes your thighs tremble, a moan tearing from your lips as your hips buck against his mouth.

Jungkook groans, clearly enjoying how responsive you are, his grip on you tightening as he eats you out like it’s his last meal. He flicks his tongue over your clit again, then sucks, harder this time, sending sparks shooting through your body.

“-fuck, Jungkook—” Your head tilts back, eyes squeezing shut as the pleasure builds, coiling tight in your stomach.

He pulls back just enough to murmur against you, “You gonna cum for me, baby?”

The heat inside you is unbearable now, hot and consuming. You nod desperately, your moans spilling freely as you grip his hair, your body teetering on the edge. Jungkook doesn’t stop. He pushes you closer, his mouth working you over with expert precision, his hands holding you steady as your body starts to tremble.

“Come for me, baby,” he whispers against your heat. “Let me taste you.”

And with one final flick of his tongue, you shatter. Pleasure crashes over you, your back arching, thighs trembling as you moan his name like a prayer. Jungkook groans, drinking in everything you give him, his hands stroking your body as he helps you ride it out.

Only when your body goes slack does he finally pull away, pressing soft kisses against your inner thighs, his voice thick with pride and adoration. “You’re so perfect,” he breathes between kisses, his voice thick with adoration. “My love. My wife.”

Jungkook moves up, trailing kisses along your body, over your stomach, your ribs, your collarbone. When he reaches your lips, he captures them in a deep, languid kiss, his hands cradling your face like you’re something fragile, something cherished.

Your fingers roam over his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles before moving lower, brushing over his abdomen until you reach the hardness straining against his sweats.

A groan rumbles from his chest at your touch, his hips twitching into your palm as you cup him, feeling just how ready he is.

“Baby…” he breathes against your lips, voice thick with want. You tug at the waistband of his pants, wordlessly asking for more. Jungkook obliges, sitting back just enough to push them down, kicking them off entirely.

He’s fully hard, the sight of him making your stomach tighten, heat pooling between your legs again. But before you can even reach for him Jungkook takes your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. The intimacy of it overwhelming.

His other hand moves between your bodies, guiding himself to your entrance, his eyes locked on yours, searching, making sure-

With a final nod from you, he pushes in, slow and careful, stretching you inch by inch.

A soft moan escapes your lips, but Jungkook kisses you instantly, swallowing the sound, his own groan muffled against your mouth as he sinks deeper. The moment he’s fully inside, he stills, pressing his forehead to yours, breathing you in. And as he holds you close, as your bodies mold together so seamlessly, you realize- this isn't just sex.

This is home.

Jungkook moves slowly, each roll of his hips deep and deliberate, as if he’s trying to make up for every moment he let slip away. His body is pressed flush against yours, warmth seeping into every inch of your skin, his breath shaky against your lips as he kisses you between each movement.

Your fingers dig softly into his back, nails pressing just enough to ground yourself in the overwhelming sensation of him. One hand moves to his hair, your fingers threading through the strands, tugging gently as his lips travel from your mouth to your jaw, down your neck, planting soft, lingering kisses that make your heart ache.

It’s slow, it’s deep, it’s love.

And then, suddenly, you feel it.

A faint tremble against your body.

Something warm and wet against your neck where Jungkook has buried his face.

Your breath catches as realization dawns- he’s crying. Tears gather in your own eyes without warning, the sheer weight of the moment crashing over you all at once.

You tighten your hold on him, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as you press a soft kiss into his hair. “Kook…” you whisper, your voice barely holding steady.

He shudders at your touch, at the way you hold him, like you’re not just letting him fall apart but falling apart with him.

“I—” His voice cracks as he exhales shakily, his thrusts faltering for a moment. “I’m so sorry, baby.” His lips find your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin as he presses kisses there—apology after apology, praise after praise.

“You’re everything to me,” he murmurs between kisses, his words thick with emotion. “You always have been.” A tear slips down your cheek as you cup his face, guiding him up until his forehead rests against yours.

“I know,” you whisper, voice trembling. “I know, Jungkook.”

His lips crash against yours again, the kiss slow and deep, his movements resuming, gentle but full of something raw, something unspoken. His hands grip your waist tighter, his body moving in perfect sync with yours, as if this moment is rewriting everything.

“I’ve got you,” you whisper, voice laced with love. “I’ll always have you.”

Jungkook shudders, gripping you tighter, his lips pressing against your shoulder, his movements slowing but never stopping. You can feel the love in every touch, every kiss, every whispered breath against your skin.

And when the pleasure builds to its peak, you come undone together, your bodies melting into one as waves of warmth crash over you. His name spills from your lips, his deep groan following right after, his arms holding you so tight you swear he never plans on letting go.

Silence lingers, only the sound of heavy breathing filling the space. Then, Jungkook shifts, lifting his head just enough to press the softest kiss to your lips.

“I love you,” he murmurs, voice hoarse but full of devotion. “I don’t deserve you… but I swear, I’ll spend my life proving that I do.”

You cup his face, your thumb brushing away the remnants of dried tears. “Just love me like this, Jungkook,” you whisper, voice steady. “That’s all I need.”

His hands tightening around you as his forehead presses against yours. “I’ll love you more,” he vows, his voice breaking slightly. “More than this, more than anything. Always.” His words settle deep in your chest, warm and real, and when he pulls you impossibly closer, tucking you into his arms, you believe him.

His heartbeat is steady now, no longer frantic with fear. Just warm, solid, home.

As sleep begins to pull you under, you hear him whisper one last thing against your hair.

“Happy anniversary, baby.”

---------------------------------------------------

[em1i2a3]

I Wanna Get Lost With You

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/Sentry/The Void x Stark!Thunderbolt!Reader

Summary: After a rough night, you find yourself with a rare day off–the one that you take on the same day every year in memoriam for the fallen. So you head into the city to spend your feelings away on the only thing that makes sense to you: gifts for your favourite team of scrappy anti-heros…And Bob.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, Spoilers for Thunderbolts because everyone from Thunderbolts is in this and is involved and there is events from the movie that are mentioned :). Fluff, a hint of angst (because of the reader having a rough night…and a rough couple of years in general), Brief Mentioning of Grief and Loss, Bucky is kind of a reluctant father figure to the reader, Bob is Bob and he’s a softie who’s seen it all, Reader and Bob have an established friendship, Smut.

Smut Warnings: Hot and Heavy Makeout Session, Grinding, Cuddling with Some ✨Spice ✨(ahem…Fingering and handjobs lol), Unprotected P in V Sex (wrap it up y’all, you know the drill), Bob is a softie, reader knows what she likes (a bit of a soft dominant vibe but not really). This is like a mix of comfort sex, and like purely desperate sex, you’ll see, you’ll see. Lol, Aftercare (because that’s hot too)

Author’s Note: This request was given to me by @xlittlemissydjx and I just had to do it when I read it (I also accidentally deleted the request by accident lol). I really expanded the landscape of it though, but I hope it meets what you were looking for :). Thanks I know I have a lot of pending part 2’s of one-shots, but I really couldn’t resist the opportunity to put a little bit of everything into this story, Angst, Fluff, and Smut. The holy trinity lol. Enjoy :))

Note About Requests!!!: I’m working through them! I have about 14 things I need to do! So be patient! They should all be done at varying times within the next week and a half (I get in the zone enough to get two a day out so hopefully that can help!)

Word Count: 18,416 (…Wow)

You had been tossing and turning all night, and it showed the second you stepped into the kitchen that morning. It was written in the heaviness of your steps, the way you continuously readjusted your sweater as if it was too tight–even though it was two sizes too big–, and it was painted across your eyes with the faint smudge of exhaustion that clung to the corners of them.

You had your tells–the little things that gave it away, and the team knew all of them. They knew when you didn’t get enough sleep, or when you didn’t get any sleep at all. You didn’t even have to say a word to them, they could just gauge it from your facial expressions. If you weren’t your usual chirpy self–the version of you that compensated your sadness with jokes and filled the room with noise–they knew what they were in for.

And today? You hadn’t said a word.

The moment you walked into the kitchen though you were pulled into the chaotic scene unfolding in front of you, as the scent of scorched butter hit your nose.

“I told you to spray the pan, Bob. Did you spray it or not?” Walker’s voice rang out, sharp with his distinct signature brand of early-morning frustration. He stood by the oven, hunched over it with a spatula in his hand wearing a pair of plaid pajama pants and a “Grill Sergeant” apron. Bob stood a few feet away, sheepish and visibly wilting by the tone that Walker was taking with him. His shoulders were hunched forward, and his fingers were busy wringing the hem of his flour-streaked sweater–the nervous habit he hadn’t kicked.

Over the past few weeks, Bob had started volunteering for kitchen duty more and more–not because he was good at it, because unfortunately he wasn’t and everyone had learned it the hard way–but because he liked the idea of it. Of helping. Of contributing back to the compound as he was in his recovery process from his incident in New York. He had also mentioned to you in passing that it helped him feel like he was normal again, and it reminded him of the simpler times.

But now, with flour scattered everywhere, batter dripping down the front of the counter, and Walker looming over him with the interrogating questions, he was clearly second-guessing his life choices.

”I…I thought I did.” He mumbled, looking around the kitchen, “I could’ve sworn I had the can in my hand.” He whispered, confused.

”Then what happened, hm?” Walker questioned, “Did the damn thing disappear out of your hand or something?” You reached up to rub the tiredness out of your eyes, letting out a sigh, which got the room's attention almost instantly–like you sucked the air out of it.

“Walker, what have I said about taking it easy on Bob, for the love of God.” Your voice wasn’t loud, because it didn’t need to be. Even with being the youngest in the group, you were seasoned enough to be feared, especially by Walker–which was always surprising for the ones who would see the both of you interact.

Bob looked over at you immediately the moment your voice broke through the room–firm and quiet, how you always were–and just like that, his posture shifted. Not completely–he was still wringing the hem of his sweater and looking sheepish–but something in him softened.

You always did that to him. You walked into a room, and it was like the gravity in the room shifted. You were never loud with him, your energy was controlled, but even if you were the loud person that you were around the others, Bob still lit up, in the same way a quiet house lights up when someone finally opens the blinds. His breathing got a little easier. His shoulders dropped just a little lower. Like he knew–even without words–that if anything ever went wrong, you’d be there to shield him from the worst of it.

And you always were, since the day you met in the O.X.E Vault, the day things changed for you–for the better of course.

You defended him the way no one else really did. The way nobody else really could replicate. You caught every nervous tick he had, you knew when to pull him out of situations he couldn’t handle, and you filled in his silences when he got overwhelmed and went quiet, answering hard questions for him with that calm, dry tone that let everyone know there were lines that were crossed.

You didn’t baby him, but you stood with him.

And Bob–who had spent so much of his life being pushed to the side, forgotten, or abused–had never really known what it was like to be protected like that, and he paid you back in the only way he knew how; by being your constant. A little planet in your very tight orbit, always trying, always showing up, always offering whatever soft, steady care he could muster.

You would say you took care of him in public, and he took care of you in private.

You’d never talked about it–not in direct words–but the arrangement was understood. He knew when to slip a cup of tea into your hand on the nights when your hands shook too hard to make one yourself. You knew when to plant yourself between him and a room full of sharp voices. He knew when to knock gently on your door and ask if you’d eaten. You knew when to tug him by the sleeve and get him out of conversations that made his breath short and his voice crack.

‘Hey, there’s only so many ruined breakfasts a man can take before he snaps.” Walker replied, holding up the pan that had what looked to be a burnt pancake glued onto it, “Look at what he did. This is literally my last one.” You didn’t even flinch. You gave the pancake a passing glance, then turned your attention back to Walker, your arms loosely crossing over your chest.

”And yet somehow the world keeps spinning, Walker. Why didn’t you take the harder stuff if you knew there was a possibility of Bob ruining your prized pan?” There was a long pause, until Walker held his hands up in mock surrender.

”Fine…Fine…You’re right. I’m sorry.” You raised an eyebrow.

”And apologize to Bob.” You added, watching Walker glance sideways at him.

”Sorry, Bob.” Bob gave a quick, awkward nod.

”It’s okay…” He whispered under his breath.

You didn’t wait for the rest of the interaction to be done, as you walked from the entrance of the kitchen and made your way toward the fridge, cracking the door open to grab a chilled bottle of water. The cold bit into your palm–and you lingered there for a moment, letting the cool air brush over your skin before closing the door again.

You stepped towards Bob then.

”You good?” You asked, voice low now, like it was just meant for him. He nodded, hesitating for only a breath.

”Yeah…I-I didn’t mean to screw things up so badly…I was just trying to help.” You let out a quiet sigh. The kind that carried the tail-end of exhaustion and affection at the same time, in equal measures, giving Walker a death stare, before reaching out to Bob, patting the side of his arm. It wasn’t too soft, nor too hard–it was just right to comfort him.

“Well,” You murmured, letting a touch of warmth back into your voice, “Go help by setting up the table, okay? I’ll order some food for everyone, and if you hear Walker screaming for his life, just ignore it.” This drew out a laugh from Bob–small and unguarded, a little surprised, like he hadn’t expected it to break free from his mouth in the way it did. It wasn’t loud, but it was full-bodied and real, the kind that deepened the flush that was always on his cheeks. Walker furrowed his brow from where he stood.

”What was that?” You didn’t answer him, you were already pulling your phone from the front pocket of your father’s hoodie, tapping through the food delivery app with the kind of speed that only came from someone who routinely cleaned up the emotional aftermath of other people’s messes.

”Nothing, I was just telling Bob I’m ordering breakfast for everyone, hope you like hash browns.” You said flatly, your tone disinterested as your thumb hovered over your usual go-to breakfast place, the one that you used to go to on your birthday.

Bob, still smiling faintly to himself, took this as his cue to duck out of the kitchen without another word, moving towards the dining area with a new sense of purpose. Walker watched him for a second as he left the room, leaving the two of you alone together, before shaking his head.

”You’re too soft on him.” You didn’t look up from your phone as you added seven orders of bacon to the cart.

”I’m just going to give you a friendly reminder that he helped us out of the Void and bought us time to save him, and another reminder that he saved our lives at the vault too. We owe him the softness, and the stability.” Walker sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck like he was trying to physically scratch the tension out of his spine.

”Still. The guy’s not made of glass. I think you forget that he beat the shit out of us in this very tower.” He shot back, which made you look up from your phone.

”That was the Sentry. You know that. And you only bring that up because you’re still butthurt that your shield hasn’t been fixed.” Walker grunted, caught somewhere between irritation and reluctant defeat. He shook his head again, slower this time, then dropped his spatula into the sink.

”Fine…You win.” He muttered.

”I always do,” You replied, looking back down at your phone to add three extra croissants to the order just in case someone got picky, going to check out.

”You gonna be in the training room later, thought we could spar together.” You paused for a second, glancing up at him for a moment, before processing your order and locking your phone, sliding it back into the hoodie pocket.

”No,” You said simply, turning the cap off your water, taking a quick sip, letting the coolness spread across your chest, “It’s my day off.” You added, which caught his attention immediately.

”Off? You don’t take days off.”

“I do today, we haven’t known each other long enough for you to see me take a day off anyways…So why is this such a surprise?”Walker furrowed his brow a bit.

”It’s just a bit weird, taking a random Tuesday off, what’s the occasion?” You met his eyes, almost annoyed by the line of questioning.

“It’s just for me, that’s all.”

——————-

After cleaning up everyone’s plates after breakfast, you collected your keys from the dish on the counter and slipped them into your pocket. No one questioned you. No one stopped you.

Bob had been in the middle of rinsing out the orange juice glasses, sleeves damp with his concentration fixed on the smallest marks, like he was trying not to think too hard. You gave him a soft pat on the back as you passed. He didn’t turn, but you felt the way he leaned into it, a silent acknowledgement.

You didn’t say goodbye. It wasn’t that kind of day.

Instead, you made your way down the corridor, past the glass-paneled lounge where Yelena and Ava were arguing over something that sounded like movie night logistics, and past the half-lit training room where the mats were still scuffed from the week before.

The elevator greeted you with a soft ding, and you stepped inside, pressing the button for the main lobby, knowing you had to make a stop before travelling into the heart of the city. The doors slid shut in front of you, sealing off the noise of the compound, and the silence that followed settled in your chest. The elevator hummed quietly beneath your feet, the numbers ticking down slower than usual, like it knew what kind of day it was for you.

When the doors finally opened, the lobby was quiet. You stepped out quickly, turning on your heel to go down the hallway that was right beside the elevator. It was silent, cleaner than the rest of the compound, and dimmer–there was less foot traffic so that’s why it was normally lit like a mortuary. The air down this hall always felt heavier, because it was the lead up to something you visited frequently.

Your boots echoed against the polished tile, until the corridor opened into the memorial wing. A long, curved hall with framed photos and holographic projections lining both sides–names etched into the glass like ghosts.

The “Hall of the Fallen,” they called it. A name you hated to say out loud, because to you they were your people.

The entire wing had only come to be because you forced it into existence. During the final round of renovations, when Valentina wanted the east wing reserved for press briefings and high-tech sparring simulations, you had walked into her office, dropped a folder full of lawsuit drafts onto her desk, and told her plainly that if your father didn’t have a place in this building, neither would you. You knew you sounded out of line, but because the tower used to be his, you thought the leverage would be something to hold over her head.

“I will sue you into the sun,” You had said calmly, “And I’ll have Pepper on the line within the hour to back me.”

So she relented.

And now… Here it was.

Each section of the wall was backlit in soft amber light. Not cold and sterile, but warm–like candlelight. Like the kind of lighting your dad always insisted on in the Tower because he said it was more comforting and less lab-like.

Your eyes tracked instinctively toward the far right. You never had to look for it, because you knew exactly where he was, call it a daughterly instinct.

The large framed photograph of Tony Stark stood in front of you. No helmet, no Iron Man suit. Just him, in a slightly crooked tie and a hand resting on your shoulder. The image had been cropped, but you remembered where this was taken. He’d been giving a press conference and you snuck up beside him mid-speech. He had rolled his eyes and laughed, pulling you into the shot like it was nothing.

You slowly stepped forward, putting out your hand to reach for him, but before you could, you noticed someone already standing near the center of the hallway, facing a different frame.

Tall. Broad shoulders. Hands tucked deep in his jacket pockets, hair slicked back like he was going for a meeting…Bucky.

He didn’t turn at the sound of your steps. He didn’t have to. He knew you would be here. It was the anniversary of your fathers death after all.

He was standing in front of Steve’s photo–head slightly bowed, jaw clenched, like the weight of all the memories he had with him had curled itself around his spine and wouldn’t let go.

You approached him slowly, your boots muffled now by the soft carpet that lined the central arc of the memorial wing. Bucky hadn’t moved, his eyes were locked on the image of Steve–clean-cut, square-jawed, with his warm smile forever frozen in time. You stopped beside him to stand shoulder to shoulder.

For a few moments, neither of you said anything, you just stared at the photo, breathing deeply, in reflection of the moments you all got together. After a minute you cleared your throat, pushing the lump to the side so you could speak.

”You missed breakfast.” Bucky let out a slow breath through his nose.

”Didn’t really feel like having pancakes today.” You cracked a small smile.

”Wasn’t pancakes…Bob ruined Walker's last pan by burning them.” His lip twitched just a little.

“Sounds like I didn’t miss much then.” He said, the ghost of a smile flickering at the corners of his mouth before fading again. The silence between you returned, but it wasn’t empty–it was heavy. Full of everything neither of you had ever needed to say out loud.

Your eyes lingered on the picture of Steve for a moment, before shifting sideways to study Bucky instead. He looked older in this light. Not tired–just…Quieter. Softer around the edges in a way that only grief can carve into a man.

“How long have you been down here?” You asked.

”About thirty minutes, I had a meeting today actually so that’s also why I missed breakfast.” Bucky shifted his weight slightly, eyes still trained on the photo, “Didn’t think I’d end up staying this long, but you know…Memories make you lose track of time.” You nodded slowly, getting a bit closer to him, slipping your arm into his, feeling the coolness of his vibranium radiating through his jacket. He let out a slow, steady exhale, letting your hand rest there, and in that small gesture, you felt the quiet return of the role he’d carved out between the both of you–it was reluctant at first, but unshakable now.

”You know…” You murmured after a beat, “He would’ve been really proud of you.” Bucky didn’t speak right away, but you could see his jaw clench at your words, before nodding.

”Tony would’ve been proud of you too.” That made you scoff, but softly. You looked down at your boots, your fingers curling slightly around the curve of his arm.

”Definitely not,” You said with a dry laugh, “I don’t think he ever intended on me being on a team like this…Or carrying on his legacy at all, really. Especially not with how I started this…With Val and everything.” You added.

”We all do stupid things sometimes, but now you’re a part of something bigger than yourself. I’m telling you…He would’ve been very happy to see you in action.” You looked down at your feet, with a soft smile coming up on your face before nodding.

It hit you again–like it always did this time of year–that Bucky had become the closest thing you had left to family. Apart from Pepper and Morgan, he was the only one that truly stood by you. This year was different of course, especially with your new teammates, but it made you think back to how far the both of you truly came.

Because it never started that way. In fact, you didn’t think Bucky would’ve offered you the protection he did. He was quiet and watchful, always keeping people at arm’s length. But something changed at your father’s funeral.

He found you that day–after the speeches and the silence, after Pepper had walked Morgan inside of the house to make her some food and Rhodes offered his condolences. You were standing by the water, not crying, just looking out onto the way the sun was setting, wearing one of Tony’s old jackets because it still smelled like his aftershave.

You didn’t even hear Bucky approach until he was beside you, and when he spoke, it was the only thing that had cut through the fog in your brain that day.

“If you ever need anything…” He said, quietly, like it wasn’t a promise he had been planning to make, “Anything at all…I’m one phone call away. No questions asked.” You had looked up at him, surprised that he was even talking to you, especially after everything that had happened between him and your father, but all you did was give him a nod, and a thank you.

Then, four years later, when you found yourself stuck in the desert with Walker, Ava, and Yelena, after escaping the death trap that was the O.X.E. Vault, and witnessing Bob turn into a human asteroid, you had pulled out your phone and dialed his number.

You remembered the look on Walker’s face as you pulled out your phone and started dialing.

”Who the hell are you calling in the middle of the desert?” You looked up at him, shielding your phone away from him.

”My emergency contact…Someone who’s not going to let us die out here.” You muttered, putting the phone to your ear. It only had to ring once, before he picked it up.

”Y/N, hey, you think I can call you back in a few minutes.” He said, like he was in a rush, like he was packing.

”Bucky, I’m in trouble.” Walker’s face had immediately dropped, his mouth opening slightly. Yelena had seen the look, and she had whispered something to him, not understanding the visceral reaction.

“Bucky!?” Walker exclaimed, you looked over at him confused, pressing your finger to your lips–afraid that his voice would echo through the open space and gain some sort of attention possibly.

”…Y/N…Was that John Walker's voice that I just heard?” Your brows furrowed, still trying to piece together what the hell was happening.

“Y-Yeah. Listen, we don’t have time to go into details because I need to conserve my battery, but we are in a desert in Utah, and we’re lost. I need you to help me…Will you please help me?” He had already been packing his motorcycle to start making his way over after receiving a call from Mel with her coordinates, and immediately he started connecting the dots that you were somehow involved. Before the line of questioning even left his lips, he remembered what he told you at the funeral and reluctantly spoke.

”Okay. I’ll track your coordinates and be there as fast as I can, just…For the love of God stay safe.” You nodded.

”I will, I’ll see you soon…Thank you Bucky.” Then you hung up the phone.

”How the fuck do you know Bucky Barnes?!” Was the first question out of Walker's mouth.

Then all the details were out in the open for everyone to know; how you knew him, how you were Tony’s daughter, how you joined Val’s list of operatives because you felt like you wanted to do something and she offered it to keep you busy. You were surprised that your identity wasn’t known to the group, so it was a relief when they quietly gave a nod to you almost as if to say they were sorry for even asking. Then the unplanned limo pickup from Alexei had happened, which intruded on the plans a little bit and ended with you having to reset your own shoulder, but to be reunited with Bucky Barnes was a heaven sent.

“Been watching you on TV at those congress hearings, congratulations by the way.” He let out a soft laugh at that comment, adjusting your shoulder into the proper position.

”Yeah well…I guess a lot of unexpected things have happened over the past couple of years.” He said, still a bit concerned with the details on how you somehow got wrapped up in all of this. But once again, he said no questions asked and he stuck to it.

Now as you stood side by side today though, it was easy to say that he was like a father figure you never thought you would have again, and you were grateful for all of it, regardless of how it fell into place.

”…I sometimes wish he got to see me with you guys too…” You whispered, breaking the silence. Bucky glanced at you from the corner of his eye.

”I’m telling you, he would’ve liked it. Sometimes when I see you at briefings you have the same mannerisms he had, same attitude and stuff. I was never really around him but I heard stories from Steve. It’s like you’re a carbon copy of him in female form.” That drew a soft laugh out of you.

“While I do appreciate being compared to him, I can never be as good.” There was a pause, and he sighed.

”There’s no ‘good’ kid…You’re doing the best you can with the cards you’ve been dealt. And I’m proud of you, we all are, even though none of us really say it often enough.” Bucky’s words settled into your chest like something warm and grounding, something heavy in the best possible way. You blinked a few times, swallowing the knot in your throat before it could turn into something embarrassing, and that’s when an idea popped into your mind.

The two of you stood in silence for a moment longer, just breathing. Just being.

Then, slowly–almost uncertain–Bucky shifted, and his arm moved around your shoulders. He didn’t pull you in abruptly. He didn’t force the moment. It was gentle. Intentional. Like he was offering the hug, not giving it. It was something Bucky rarely did, but in a moment where comfort was needed he would push the discomfort off for you.

You leaned into it immediately.

Your arms came around his middle, anchoring yourself to the familiar weight of him. You didn’t close your eyes, but you let your cheek rest against his chest and took a breath. He smelled like leather and clean soap, and the faint trace of a piney cologne he always insisted he didn’t wear. You both stayed like that for a few beats–just enough to feel steady again.

“Thanks Buck,” You mumbled, your voice quiet.

“Anytime,” He replied, equally soft.

You pulled back, brushing your sleeve against your face subtly wiping a small tear that was forming in the corner of your eye as you stepped away.

“Alright…Enough with the sappiness…” You sighed, your tone turning a bit lighter now, “I’m heading into the city to do a bit of shopping therapy…” Bucky arched an eyebrow.

”Shopping therapy huh? Guess it’s better than drinking. And you’re going without your second shadow?” You looked at him confused.

”Who?” Bucky gave you a look, one of those deadpan, all-knowing stares.

”Bob,” He responded, “You think he’s not going to notice that you’re gone for the whole day?” A guilty grin tugged at the corner of your mouth. Everyone knew how close you were to him, but Bucky was the one person to know how deep it truly went, how much Bob actually knew about you, down to the little details, and the darkest parts.

”I slipped out while he was rinsing the glasses, I figure I’ll have about an hour of radio silence until someone calls to tell me he’s looking for me.” Bucky huffed a dry laugh through his nose, shaking his head slightly.

“I’ll shoot let him know of my whereabouts in a bit…Don’t worry.” You promised, stuffing your hands into your hoodie pocket. “Just wanted a little time to myself. Got an idea I need to run with, and I think it’ll help.”

He didn’t press for more. He never did. That was the good thing about Bucky–he could read you like a book, but he only turned the pages when you were ready.

“Well,” he said after a moment, adjusting the collar of his jacket, “Don’t get lost in any candle shops.”

“No promises.”

You turned to go, but paused halfway down the hall and glanced back. He was still standing there in front of Steve’s photo, hands back in his pockets, eyes distant. You softened.

“I’ll be back later tonight. Might be close to dinner, maybe after. But tell the others not to start movie night without me.”

Bucky nodded, glancing over his shoulder.

“They’ll wait,” He said. “I’ll make sure of it.”

You offered him a small smile–one of the rare, real ones–and gave a little wave as you turned and headed out.

The elevator doors closed behind you with a soft ding, and for the first time that day, you felt the flicker of excitement hum through your chest. You weren’t sure exactly what you were looking for yet–but you were going to find something for each of them. Something thoughtful. Something that said thank you for being here, for staying, for putting up with me.

Even if you’d never say it out loud.

———————

You had returned that night thirty minutes after dinner was wrapping up. Everyone was still mingling in the kitchen, the remnants of takeout cartons and half-eaten desserts scattered across the island, but when the elevator dinged, every head instinctively turned toward the hallway.

When the doors slid open and you stepped out–flanked by two interns struggling with your overflow of tissue-paper-filled bags–you didn’t even get a full step before you called out.

“Everyone stay in the kitchen! No peeking!” You warned, your voice commanding but playful. “I’m serious, if I catch one head in that hallway, I’m throwing dessert in the trash.”

That got a ripple of muffled laughter from the group.

“You act like we don’t eat dessert before dinner,” Yelena shouted back.

Despite your warning though, Bob didn’t get the memo.

You barely made it halfway to the living room, with the interns trailing behind you, when the sound of socked feet came pattering rapidly around the corner.

Bob appeared, cheeks flushed, his light brown hair a little mussed, his eyes wide and brimming with unfiltered concern. He wore a pair of black sweat pants and an oversized dark grey sweater that covered his broad frame, it made him look fragile and small–even though beneath his clothes it was far from the image he was trying to portray. You had caught glimpses of his body in little increments, sometimes by accident you would walk in as he was pulling on his shirt and you’d catch the lean muscles on his back flexing, once you saw his abs when he reached up to grab something, and once in a while you’d catch him with his sleeves rolled up, and you’d see the cool blue veins that rose from the planes of his forearms. Sometimes you wished you’d see more of him, but you were fine with what you had the privilege of seeing. He looked like he’d been waiting by the kitchen threshold all evening, just listening for the elevator.

“Hey—are you okay?” He asked, his voice already rushing. “I—I remembered what day it was, and I didn’t know if you wanted space or if you wanted company, but then you left without saying anything and I didn’t wanna crowd you but—”

“Bob!” You cut in quickly, spinning around to shield the bags with your body. “Close your eyes!” He startled like someone had set off a firecracker behind him.

“Sorry! Sorry!” He blurted, immediately slapping his hands over his face. “I didn’t see anything! I swear…I only saw you, not the-uh-the stuff-whatever the stuff is…”

You let out a long sigh, shaking your head as one of the interns behind you adjusted their grip on a delicate gift bag.

“Here,” You whispered to them, handing off what you were holding. “Take these into the living room...And thank you again for the help, oh and make sure the box is put in my room okay? First on the right.”

“No problem.” The intern nodded, already moving with the caution of someone who had been thoroughly briefed with the other intern trailing behind.

Once your hands were free, you turned back to Bob. He stood perfectly still with his palms mashed over his face like a kid in a surprise party gone wrong–lips pressed into a worried line, shoulders a little too rigid. You let out a soft sigh, stepping towards him–knowing you scared him a bit– and reached up for his wrists, pulling his hands away from his face slowly.

”You can open your eyes now…I didn’t mean to scare you…I just have a surprise for everyone. Sorry…” You said gently, watching as his lashes fluttered open, his eyes instantly meeting yours, with that all too familiar look–soft and worried and wired, like he had been on the edge of his seat waiting for your return.

”I-It’s okay…I was just…I was w-worried about y-you. I remembered what today was after Walker mentioned to me that you took the day off…And I felt like such an idiot f-for not che-.” Bob’s words halted immediately when your fingers touched his lips–just two of them, soft but still–to quietly tell him to stop talking. His breath caught in his throat, and you could feel the way his shoulders tensed under your touch, frozen like a deer in headlights. His eyes went wide, and then slowly his cheeks flushed a deep, unmistakable red, blooming from his cheekbones to the tips of his ears.

It was the kind of color that told you everything without a word.

You didn’t tease him for it. You didn’t move your hand right away either.

You just held his gaze, steady and gentle, letting the silence do the heavy lifting.

“I’m okay,” You whispered, your voice barely audible above the distant murmur of the others in the kitchen. “Really.”

His brows drew together just slightly, like he didn’t believe you entirely, like he was still cataloguing every detail of your expression for proof. But your hand stayed right there between you, steadying the weight that always seemed to pile up in his chest when he couldn’t fix things, or make you feel better.

You felt him breathe in–and that tiny shift, that barely-there exhale through his nose, was the signal that he heard you. That he believed you…Even if just for now.

You slowly dropped your hand, the warmth of your fingers leaving his skin with the ghost of your touch. He blinked, like coming out of a daze, and looked like he didn’t quite know what to do.

“Okay,” He said quietly. He was still flushed, avoiding your eyes, knowing that he just had to take your word for it, even though he knew how much this day was a dark reminder of what you were most ashamed of.

He only knew this because he had seen it.

In the O.X.E vault, after you, Walker, Ava, Yelena, and Bob had barely escaped the incinerator, you had all collapsed into a breathless heap in one of the elevator areas., sweaty, and rattling with adrenaline. No one celebrated. It was too soon for that. Tension still clung to the air like smoke, and the five of you were still strangers.

You had sat against a wall, jaw clenched, blinking through the pain that was radiating from your ribs. The quietness was deafening.

Yelena hadn’t moved much. She sat cross-legged on the far end of the room, her elbows on her knees, and her sharp eyes trained on Bob–who was pacing a few feet away, muttering under his breath. His hands trembled slightly, and his voice barely registered above a whisper, like he was listing something he didn’t want to forget. You couldn’t quite make out what he was saying, but just watching him pace in that mint green scrub set, made you tense up, there was just a feeling in those moments that something was wrong.

That’s when you noticed Yelena’s expression. Not skeptical. Not calculating. Just…off.

You pushed yourself to your feet, wincing as your ribs protested, and made your way toward her. She didn’t look up until you crouched beside her.

“What’s going on?” You asked, voice low, “You hurt or something?” Her eyes didn’t leave Bob, when she shook her head at your question.

“I need you to touch him.” She whispered under her breath.

“Touch who?” You asked, shifting on your feet a bit, confused at what she was saying to you.

“Bob.” Her voice was even, but her brows furrowed. “I saw something…But I need to know if I’m just going crazy or if it was real.” You could feel yourself grow more and more concerned just by how shaken up she looked.

”Yelena…What did you see?” She shook her head at you.

”Can you just go do it? Please.” You stared at her for a second longer, then nodded. You didn’t understand it, but something in her voice had pulled up, like she was scared of something. You stood up and dusted your palms off, turning around to approach Bob, who was still pacing back and forth, taking four steps before turning and doing the same towards the other side, whispering to himself still.

Walker and Ava were still talking, strategizing how you were all going to get out, and neither of them noticed when you moved past them. Bob didn’t hear you coming either, he was too wrapped up in his own storm to even see your slow approach.

”Hey,” You said gently. He startled almost immediately, his eyes snapping to you like you had dropped him in a pot of ice cold water, “Do you mind coming with me for a second?”

“I-I’m f-fine.” He replied quickly, a reflexive panic in his voice, like he had done something bad, and he was afraid of being punished. You gave him a soft smile though, almost like you knew you needed to make yourself a little less aggressive, especially after he had seen you go head to head with Walker over something so minor you couldn’t even remember..

”I know, I just want to check something, okay?” He looked down at you with such hesitation that you honestly thought he was going to say no, but even back then he had a distinct soft spot reserved for you. His eyes were an odd shade of blue that day, and you had seen distinct little flecks of what seemed to be an off yellow peering through. Back then you chalked it up to being the lighting.

”…Okay.” He whispered. You gave him a little smile, and took hold of the sleeve of his scrub top, leading him towards the side of one of the concrete pillars, just far enough to shield you both from the rest of the group. The tension in Bob’s shoulders hadn’t eased. If anything, being pulled away from the others made him more rigid, as if you were going to reprimand him.

“You hurt anywhere?” You asked, nodding toward his chest, his ribs, his shoulders.

“No…No…I mean, not really j-just some scratches and stuff b-but I’m okay, r-really.” You squinted at him, and you could see the way his breath hitched in his throat a little, like he was nervous or trying to hide something. Your eyes scanned over his dust covered face, watching him shift uncomfortably, as if being under your gaze felt like he was being smothered.

“Mind if I check?” He looked like he wanted to say no, like he wanted to tell you he was fine again so he could go back to his pacing, but instead, after a beat of hesitation, lifted his arm up slowly to you, with his palm up.

You reached forward slowly, and grabbed his hand.

Then everything slipped.

The world around you–the gritty concrete, the stale air, the faint hum of the vault’s broken systems–all vanished in an instant, replaced by heat, light, and the faint crackle of fire.

Your body didn’t move, but your heart slammed like it was being punched. You knew this place. The ruined battlefield. The shattered husk of the Avengers compound after the snap had been reversed. Twilight bleeding across rubble. Smoke curling in the air. The air was so thick it clung to your skin like regret.

You saw them–Peter, Pepper, Rhodey. All of them gathered around the figure on the ground.

And there he was.

Your father.

Collapsed. Barely breathing. The right side of his face blistered from the energy surge of the Infinity Stones. His arc reactor flickering like the dying heartbeat it had become. His mouth was slack, his breathing shallow.

He was dying.

And you were nowhere near him.

But you had been. You remembered it clearly now, clearer than ever–how you had stepped forward when they pulled him from the wreckage. How you’d seen him, gasping for air. How you’d started walking toward him and then–froze. Stopped in your tracks.

You had walked away.

The grief you’d locked down in the deepest corners of yourself–boxed and buried for years–rushed back to the surface with the brutal weight of tidal force. Your knees hit the ground in the memory, even though your body in the vault hadn’t moved.

Your chest heaved.

Because this wasn’t a memory.

This was your shame.

The moment you’d never told anyone about. The moment even Pepper didn’t know. The moment you abandoned him because you couldn’t watch the man who raised you die.

And now Bob—Bob, who you barely knew at the time—was seeing it too. Sucked into the deepest darkest secret you had. You tried to pull away, but the memory gripped you like a vice.

Tony’s eyes fluttered shut.

Peter was crying.

Pepper leaned in and whispered something too quiet to hear.

And you–you were nowhere near him. You had your hands over your mouth, hiding behind a crumbled slab of wall, like a coward. Crying silently, too ashamed to show your face.

The memory ended like a door slamming shut.

The vault came crashing back into view. Cold. Harsh. Fluorescent.

And you stumbled backward, your hand jerking away from Bob’s as if it had burned you. Your back hit the pillar, hard, and you bent over, one hand gripping your ribs like they were splitting open. You were breathing heavily, but holding back the tears, because you needed to remain strong, you had to or else you weren’t going to get out of the vault alive.

Bob didn’t say anything at first.

He just stood there, his hand still half-raised like he hadn’t realized you’d let go. His chest rose and fell unevenly, not with fear, but with something more fragile—remorse, maybe. Guilt. A kind of stunned softness that only existed in people who had never been given permission to hold something that delicate, and now had to live with the knowledge that they did.

He didn’t look at you right away. He was staring at the spot where your hand had touched his, like it still lingered there.

“I-I’m sorry…” He whispered, which caused your head to snap up at him. You had been expecting confusion. Denial. Questions, maybe. But not an apology.

“I-I don’t know how to c-control it. I didn’t mean to do it.” He said under his breath, kind of like he was muttering it to himself. The strangest thing about it all though was that you didn’t feel angry. You should have. You should’ve been furious that he’d been pulled into something so private. But there was something in the way he looked at you now–like he understood you in a way–that made your breath catch.

“Just…Don’t tell anybody about this.” You said hoarsely, wiping your nose on the back of your sleeve, as you pushed yourself up off the pillar to recover.

”I-I won’t,” He said immediately, “I’d n-never do t-that, I-I promise.” He added, and you believed him.

Even though the moment passed, even though Walker barked something from across the room and Ava told everyone to regroup, even though Bob turned to leave first to give you space–you knew in your gut that it had shifted something.

And now, standing in the present day, in the quiet hallway outside the kitchen, you realized that he really did keep that promise he made all those months ago…But that just spoke to who Bob was, and who he had always been.

——————

The lights in the compound’s living room had been dimmed for movie night, the projector humming softly behind the couch as the team shuffled in with snacks in hand.

You stood in the middle of the chaotic scene of bags and boxes, arms crossed, eyeing them as they made their way over to their designated spots that they typically claimed during movie nights. Yelena kicked her feet up onto the coffee table like it was her birthright. Walker was already grumbling at Ava for stealing the corner seat he liked to stretch out in. Alexei lumbered over with a bowl of popcorn that definitely wasn’t for sharing, and Bucky, as always, took the spot by the far armrest, the one with the clearest view of the exit. Bob lingered near the back of the couch, waiting–always waiting–until he was sure everyone else was settled before choosing a spot closest to you.

You cleared your throat, but it barely registered above the chatter that was happening around you.

”Hey!” You exclaimed, and that’s when heads turned. Walker paused mid-bite. Yelena glanced over her shoulder. Bob straightened immediately like someone had called his full name in school. Even Bucky looked up, one brow arching in curiosity. The projector hadn’t started yet, but the anticipation for the movie had everyone on autopilot. Until now.

“I, uh…” You started, then immediately hated the sound of your own voice. Awkwardly, you cleared your throat, and tried again, “Before we start the movie, I need to say something.” They sat in anticipation, thinking that you were going to announce something either tragic, or shockingly happy. Your hands fidgeted with the hem of your sleeve as you took a breath, the hush in the room now bordering on tense.

“Today’s always been a shitty day for me,” you said simply, and the honesty of it settled over them like dust. “Most of you probably figured that out. Some of you knew… or saw more than you were supposed to.” Your eyes flicked briefly toward Bob, and then back.

“But this year felt different. I didn’t want to sit with it by myself. I didn’t want to spend the day pretending it wasn’t happening just to make it easier to breathe.”

You exhaled.

“And I didn’t want to feel alone. So instead… I went shopping.”

There were a few scattered smiles at that. Ava smirked. Yelena tilted her head. Alexei made a noise that sounded like a chuckle and a snore at once.

“I got you all something. Nothing huge. Just things that made me think of you. Things I thought might make you smile. Because whether you like it or not, you’re my team now. You’re my people–my family. And I wanted to say thank you. For being here. For staying.”

You paused, blinking away the weight behind your eyes.

“For putting up with me.”

There was silence. But the kind that meant something. The kind you didn’t want to break too fast.

Then, you turned to the bags behind you and grabbed the first one.

“Ava,” you said, walking it over. “Noise-cancelling headphones and a pass to a rage room. Because, let’s be honest, we annoy the shit out of you.”

Ava cracked a genuine smile. “They better let me bring my own bat.”

“No promises.”

Next: “Yelena.” You passed her a smaller black box. “New utility belt. And some custom knives and batons I had made. Not saying you need them. But I also didn’t want to find out what would happen if you didn’t have them.”

Yelena grinned, flipping the latch open immediately. “You do love me.”

“Very much.” You replied with a smile.

“Walker,” You said, tossing him a medium-sized box that thunked heavily into his lap. “New pans, and a mini travel sized grill.”

“Thank God,” He muttered, already tearing the paper. “And they’re even better quality than the last ones.”

“Alexei.” You handed off two heavy bottles wrapped in tissue paper. “Vodka. The expensive kind.”

“Oh…Oh this is not going to survive night,” He replied, already cracking the top open.

“I figured.”

Then, you looked at Bucky.

“For you,” You said more quietly, stepping over and handing him a neatly wrapped parcel, “A metal polishing and cleaning kit, so you can stop using the dishwasher on your arm. And I got you an appointment for a bike detailing. Full job. New coat of black, too.”

He blinked slowly, surprised. “You remembered that?”

“You yelled about it for thirty minutes. I’d have to be concussed not to remember.”

He smiled. It was the small kind, but it stayed on his face longer than you expected.

You turned to Bob last, and something in your chest fluttered a little harder than you were ready for.

He was sitting upright, hands folded in his lap, trying not to look too eager, but his eyes flicked up to yours like he was bracing for impact. You walked over slowly, cradling the last item with more care than the others, and stopped just in front of him.

“This one’s for you,” You said gently, and handed him the book.

It wasn’t wrapped. No fancy paper, no ribbon–just a hardcover in a matte finish, with The Creative Act by Rick Rubin printed across the front in clean black letters.

Bob’s eyes flicked down to it. His hands moved slowly, reverent almost, as he turned the book over, like he wanted to feel the weight of it first before opening it. He ran his thumb along the edge before he finally slipped the front cover open–and there it was, tucked just inside the front page.

A handwritten note on a small square of folded paper that you had taken from Bob’s desk when you snuck in just before the movie.

Written in your slanted, slightly chaotic handwriting.

’The real gift is in your bedroom.’ Just the words alone affected him immediately.

His ears flushed red at first, before blooming down to his cheeks, and over his neck like a fire that couldn’t be put out. His eyes darted up to you, then back to the page, like he was checking to make sure if he’d read it right.

Then, with a bit too much urgency, he shut the book. Yelena was already leaning over from her seat to look at him.

”What’d you get?” She asked, her voice laced with amusement, seeing the deep blush that continued to burn on his cheeks.

”Yeah, let’s see,” Walker added, craning his neck, “It didn’t even have wrapping. What is it?” Bob shook his head quickly, holding the book close to his chest like it might be pried from him if he held it out too far from him.

”It’s…It’s j-just a book.” Everyone exchanged glances at one another, then looked over at you, then Bob.

”You’re turning that red over a book?” Ava raised an eyebrow. You watched as Bob sank slightly into himself, clutching the book like it was something far more scandalous than a hardcover on creative philosophy.

“You didn’t even open it all the way, you just opened the cover.” Yelena added.

”I-I don’t have to,” He stammered, adjusting the book in his arms, “It’s o-one Y/N and I saw at the b-bookstore a while ago that’s all.” Now all eyes turned to you. You gave a small, innocent smile.

“It really is just a book guys,” You said simply, meeting their suspicious looks with a calm ease, “Like Bob said…We saw it at the bookstore a while ago and he didn’t buy it. So I just got it for him now. No big deal.” Then you went to the couch to take up your space, looking back at Bob who was already coming to sit in the space that was available beside you. “Now…We can commence movie night.” You added, feeling Bob adjust beside you slightly, bumping his knee against yours almost like he was giving you a nudge, before settling in completely.

——————-

Eventually, everyone fell asleep in their spots apart from you and Bob.

The projector had long since gone dark, the soft white glow replaced by the quiet hush of breath and shifting limbs. The living room had become a patchwork of tangled limbs, half-eaten snacks, and drooping blankets. You and Bob sat in the warm silence at the edge of it all, knees still brushing where they’d been for the past hour.

He hadn’t opened the book again–not since that first flustered glance. But his fingers never stopped grazing the edges of the cover. He was still holding onto it carefully, like it might slip through his hands if he blinked too fast. You leaned toward him slightly, just enough so that your shoulder nudged him to get his attention.

”Hey,” You whispered. He glanced over at you, like he’s been waiting for you to say something because he was too scared to do it himself, “Wanna see your real gift now?” You asked, a small smile appearing on your lips. Bob could feel his heart pumping out of his chest as he began to overheat like a furnace.

“Y-Yeah…I mean…Y-yeah if you’re ready to s-show me.” You rose slowly, careful not to kick over a stray popcorn bowl or stir anyone from their half-snoring sprawl. Your eyes flicked briefly over the room to make sure no one was stirring—Yelena had curled into a blanket cocoon, Walker was snoring like a truck engine, and Alexei’s head had slumped against the back of the couch, drool threatening the upholstery. Bucky’s eyes were shut, but you could tell by the slight twitch in his jaw he was only pretending to sleep, which was typical for him. Turning back to Bob, you extended your hand toward him, palm open, wrist loose.

“Come on,” You whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. “Just make sure to be quiet cause if they wake up we’ll never hear the end of it.” He nodded–one firm, terrified little nod–and slid his fingers into yours. His hand was warm and clammy, but you didn’t mind the feeling. Quite honestly, you wished he did this more often, because it gave you this ease, the kind that only he truly provided. You squeezed his hand gently before tugging him up onto his feet, and he followed like you’d cast a spell over him.

You led him carefully through the living room, toes skimming across the floor like a cat, weaving between bodies and blankets until you reached the edge of the wing that led to your rooms.

The hallway was dim and quiet, the only light coming from the soft golden hue of the floor runners and the faint spill of moonlight through the high windows. You padded down the hardwood floor hand in hand, every step muffled, every breath shared. Bob stayed impossibly close to you, so close in fact that you could practically feel his breath on your neck, as if putting too much space between the both of you might make the whole moment disappear.

When you reached his door, you stopped just short of the frame and turned to him with a look that was half excitement, half warning.

“Okay, you’re gonna have to cover your eyes.” You whispered, looking up at him with one of the soft smiles you always gave him when you needed him to do something for you.

“W-What? Why?” He asked quietly under his breath, still holding onto your hand, only it was a little tighter now, probably from the nerves that were clawing away in the pit of his stomach.

“Just trust me…You won’t regret it.” Bob let out a quiet, breathy laugh–more like a whimper, really–and gave you the softest, most defeated sigh, like his heart had already left his chest and he was just trying to keep his limbs from shaking.

“A-Alright…” He whispered, leaning just a little closer to you, close enough that you could feel his breath hitting your cheeks, “Just…Just don’t let m-me trip or walk into something…Please.” You gave his hand another reassuring squeeze.

“Hasn’t happened before, and I’m not planning on letting that happen now.” You teased, before softly adding “Now…Close your eyes.” Bob obeyed, raising his free hand over his face with careful fingers, blocking his vision as if you were leading him into a sacred place rather than his own bedroom. You nudged the door open with your foot and gave his hand a gentle tug, leading him across the threshold.

You didn’t need to turn on a light.

His room always felt a little like stepping into a different plane of calm. The kind of space that knew quiet in its bones. Moonlight fell in soft silver lines across the floor through his half-open blinds, slicing the darkness into gentle pieces. The windows of his room were quite large, which was the reason why everyone assigned it to him, because if he ever had an episode and didn’t want to come out of his room, he would at least get some sunlight.

His bed was unmade, but it was clean, it always was–Bob didn’t like messes too much, and the comforter was crumpled in a way that suggested he hadn’t been able to stay still for more than a minute. His nightstand had a glass of water and a half-melted candle that still smelled faintly like lavender, which was something that he had learned calmed him through you. There were books stacked under the window. T-shirts folded too neatly on the open shelves. A jacket draped on the chair in the corner.

His room was basically a manifestation of things he picked up from you and bits and pieces of himself that he couldn’t shake. It was a perfect balance, especially when he was too scared to go to your room when you were out on missions–when he was missing you terribly.

And then–right there in the center of the room, illuminated perfectly by the soft glow spilling through the curtains–was the record player.

Matte black, sleek, minimalist. Quiet in its confidence. It sat on a low wooden console table that you had bought pre-assembled. Beside it, propped open just slightly, was a padded carrying case–and inside there were three of your records that he had constantly put on whenever he would end up in your room: Loveless by My Bloody Valentine, Last Splash by The Breeders, and Elton John’s Self Titled.

On nights like these–when you had nothing to do–Bob would come and listen to a record with you while lying on your bed. The both of you would stare at the ceiling and talk, usually it was about anything and nothing at all, that’s just how it had always been. Sometimes you guys would touch, hold hands just as a source of comfort, but it never went further than that, because neither of you wanted to possibly put the friendship in jeopardy.

Tonight would be one of those nights that you would be able to lie with him thankfully.

You looked up at Bob who was still shielding his eyes even though he was clearly trembling with anticipation. You gave the hand that was intertwined with yours one last squeeze and leaned close enough that your arms brushed.

”Alright,” You whispered, “You can open them now.” Bob’s hand dropped from his eyes like he was lifting the lid on something sacred.

And the second his gaze landed on the record player, his entire face changed.

His shoulders softened, his chest lifted like he’d just taken the first real breath in hours–and then came the smile. Wide, radiant, boyish. One that reached all the way up to his eyes and cracked something open in you.

He stepped forward slowly, like he was approaching something precious. His fingers hovered above the turntable for a moment before he crouched down in front of it, knees tucked in, head tilted with something like awe. The soft light haloed around him, catching on the strands of his hair and the curve of his jaw. You saw his lips part slightly, saw the way he swallowed thickly.

Then his sleeve came up–quick and almost sheepish–and he dabbed at the corners of his eyes with the back of his wrist. He thought you wouldn’t notice if he did it quickly but you knew his tells, and you knew when something was wrong with him. When he let out a small sniffle, you were at his side in an instant.

“Bob?” You whispered, dropping to your knees beside him, voice soft, uncertain. “Hey…What’s wrong?”

He didn’t look at you at first. Just shook his head quickly, eyes still fixed on the player.

“Nothing–Nothing’s wrong,” He said quickly, but his voice cracked halfway through. “I’m just–God–this is…It’s too much.”He whispered to himself, pressing a trembling hand to his eyes again to wipe off another set of tears.

Your brows knit together, and you lifted a hand instinctively, hovering just above his shoulder but not quite touching.

“I didn’t mean to overwhelm you, I just–”

“I love it,” He interrupted gently, finally turning to face you. His eyes were wet, his cheeks flushed, and there was that dazed smile again, wide and aching. “I love it so much.”

You let out a soft, quiet exhale, the kind you didn’t even know you were holding, relieved that you didn’t do anything wrong.

And then–without warning–he leaned into you.

Not cautiously. Not halfway.

Fully.

Bob wrapped his arms around you with all the care and all the weight of someone who had wanted to do it for a very long time. One arm slid around your lower back while the other curled protectively around your shoulders, tucking you against him like you were the only thing he could hold onto. His forehead dropped to your shoulder, and you felt his breath hitch against your neck.

You froze for just a second–stunned by the sheer intensity of it–before you melted into him. Your arms wound around his back, your hands gripping at the soft fabric of his sweater. You closed your eyes and held him, not just because you were trying to comfort him, but also because you needed it just as much as he did.

Bob breathed in deeply, inhaling your warmth, and your sweet scent–a mixture of iris and clementines. He said you smelled like summer to him once, and he stuck by that even to this day, because it was intoxicating to him, and it was you…That’s what he liked most.

Your hand drifted up slowly to the back of his neck, letting your fingers brush through his hair with a tenderness so natural it almost startled you. He didn’t flinch, or shy away, instead you felt him melt into you just a little more, like your touch was untying the knots that were within him.

“I-I’m sorry,” He murmured, his voice muffled against your shoulder, “I-I didn’t mean to cry…No one’s ever gotten me something t-this nice before.” You let out a soft huff against him, pulling back just enough so you could look at him, your fingers curling gently so you were cradling the back of his head.

”Bob…” You whispered, then smiled with a soft ache, “You don’t need to be sorry. I’m glad it means something to you…” He looked up at you with wide, glassy blue eyes, still watering slightly at the corners.

”It really…It really does…It-It means everything to me Y/N…” He replied.

A silence settled between the both of you in that moment, not awkward but charged–thick with feelings that were just cresting on the horizon. You brought your other hand up to his face, letting your thumb brush along the curve of his jaw before you dropped it to rest over his chest, right where you could feel his heartbeat drumming just under the fabric of his sweater. When you pressed a little harder you could feel the muscle flex against your touch,–a reflex from Bob.

“So…Uh…Does this mean I c-can’t come to your r-room anymore to listen to vinyls?” You raised an eyebrow at that comment, leaning in just a little so your noses were almost touching, as you allowed the edge of your voice to dip playfully.

”Actually…It’s an excuse for me to come in here once in a while.” He was taken aback by your comment, but it had hit him like a lightning bolt.

His mouth parted slightly, eyes locking with yours as if you just upended gravity. You could see when it fully clicked for him–what it meant, what you wanted it to mean. The warmth in his face scattered deeper now, but this time, he didn’t look away.

”W-Well then…I-I think you should use that e-excuse…A-All the time then.” You tilted your head a bit, a smirk coming up on your lips, realizing what he was giving back now.

”All the time hm?” He nodded, keeping his eyes glued to yours, his pupils dilating slightly to adjust more to the darkness, and to take more of you in.

”A-As much as you want Y/N...Every n-night even i-if you want.” Your heart fluttered–too loud, too strong–but you didn’t let it show except for the little smile that cracked wide across your face. You slid your hand up to the collar of his sweater, your thumb running along the thin skin on his neck.

“Well,” You said, leaning in, “Why don’t we start now then…” Bob didn’t answer.

He couldn’t.

Because the second those words left your lips–why don’t we start now then–the air between you changed. Like it folded in on itself. Like the gravity in the room evaporated completely and every ounce of tension that had lived in stolen glances and almost-touches finally snapped tight, pulling the two of you together like you’d never really meant to be apart in the first place.

Your lips found his.

Soft. Certain. Slow at first–just a press. Just a whisper of something that had been waiting so long to be real. Bob shuddered under you, like every nerve in his body had lit up at once. His hands came up instinctively, almost blindly—one settling on your waist, the other cradling the curve of your back like he was afraid you’d vanish.

But you didn’t.

You kissed him again.

And again.

Breathing into each other between the spaces. Your mouths never fully parted–they just shifted, adjusted, and learned. His lips moved with yours like he was starved for the taste, like he had imagined it so many times but never dared to believe he’d ever actually feel it. You felt his breath catch in the back of his throat, felt the way he tensed, and then eased, melting into it like he finally believed it was happening.

When you moved closer to him Bob let out the softest gasp into your mouth, it was barely a sound, but it still hit you like an electric current. You deepened the kiss, tilting your head as your hands slid higher into his hair. You gripped at the soft strands and gave them a gentle tug, just enough to guide his head back just a little–earning a low, breathless sound, stealing it straight out of his chest.

With trembling strength, Bob shifted, pulling you with him slowly until you were in his lap, your knees sliding on either side of his thighs, straddling him. His hands gripped at your hips, thumbs pressing into the fabric of your shirt like you were something holy to him. When your weight settled over him completely it made Bob feel like the world had gone totally quiet–like he could live in this moment and never need anything else for survival.

You pulled back just enough to breathe, your forehead resting against his as your fingers brushed his flushed cheeks. Bob’s lips were still parted, his breath coming in soft, stuttered exhales that fanned across your mouth. His hands had stilled on your hips, still holding you like he was scared to grip too tightly, like if he held too hard you might vanish again.

“Is this okay?” you whispered, voice low and weighted with something deeper than just desire. Bob nodded immediately, so fast it was almost a flinch.

“Y-Yeah,” He breathed, “Y-Yeah, anything you want–just–God, I want you to take whatever y-you want.”

You smiled, touching your nose to his briefly, before leaning back enough to sit upright on his lap. Bob’s hands stayed where they were, unmoving, as if he was afraid to go any further unless you guided him. And you would. Because this was yours to take if you wanted it–and he had already given it so freely.

Your hands slipped to the hem of your shirt, and you pulled it over your head in one smooth motion. The fabric whispered over your skin as it came off, and you dropped it onto the floor beside you without looking away from him.

Bob’s breath hitched.

You were wearing a thin, slate-colored bra–and barely anything between your body and the chill in the air. The moonlight caught on the curve of your breasts and the subtle rise and fall of your breathing, but it also revealed more than just your skin.

Faint, jagged lines kissed across your ribs and shoulders. Scars from old missions, burns, nicks, remnants of the life you’d led before this–before the Thunderbolts. Each one a story you rarely told. Some puckered. Some silver. A few newer, still healing. They caught the light and glimmered in ways they never had before–because now, someone was really looking at them. You saw Bob’s eyes flicker down over them like he was cataloging each one with the kind of care and thoughtfulness that made your throat tighten.

And then there was the necklace.

Stark tech. Thin chain. Sleek design. The pendant was small, flat, shaped like a coin and glowing faintly from within–pulse blue, soft as breath. It had been a gift from Tony. A prototype for a fail-safe, disguised as a keepsake. Only a few people in the compound even knew it wasn’t just jewelry. You never explained it, never offered context. But you didn’t move to hide it now

His eyes lifted again–tentative, trembling–and met yours. You saw the way he swallowed hard, saw the way he tried to stop himself from looking lower, like he didn’t want to disrespect the moment. But his gaze dropped again anyway, helpless against the gravity of you. He didn’t speak. He couldn’t. He looked stunned.

“I know,” You murmured, softer this time, like you were trying to soothe the bashful panic behind his wide-eyed stare. “It’s a lot.”

“No–n-no, it’s not–” Bob’s voice cracked as he tried to sit up straighter, his hands tightening a little on your hips. “You’re–God, you’re beautiful, and it’s e-everything I imagined.” You tilted your head to the side, a teasing glint blooming behind your eyes as you traced your fingers slowly up his arms.

”You’ve imagined this?” You asked, voice light but thick with hea, watching Bob’s entire face turn a deeper shade of red in the moonlight, like he was caught committing a crime. His lips parted as he scrambled for a respectful response, but you didn’t give him a chance. You leaned in, lips hovering just above his, your breath slipping into his mouth as you whispered, “What else have you imagined?” Bob exhaled shakily, the sound brushing your mouth. His hands flexed unconsciously on your hips as though trying to ground himself–like if he didn’t hold onto you, he might drift right out of the moment.

“I’ve…” He whispered, his voice barely audible over the heavy breathing the both of you were doing, “T-Thought about touching you…Like t-this.” He began to kiss the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, leaving a trail of heat and wetness from his lips all the way down to your neck, before he opened his mouth against you, right below your ear, placing a lingering kiss that made you push your chest against his with the heat that curled around you.

“I’ve t-though about what your s-skin would feel against m-mine,” He murmured, trembling as his lips traced the column of your throat, “And how you would sound i-if I kissed you h-here…” He added, placing a kiss against your pulse point, listening to the small sigh that escaped your mouth.

His breath was shaky against your neck as his lips lingered at the little patch of skin that thumped against his touch, his nose brushing against the soft dip of your throat while his hands remained firmly planted on your hips–too still, too solid, like he didn’t trust himself to move without falling apart.

But then, as if pulled by some gravitational force he could no longer fight, one of his hands slid upward. Slowly. Tentatively. Fingertips brushing over the hem of your bra, skimming your ribs, following the curve of your waist until they reached the delicate strap resting on your shoulder. His knuckles trembled, but his touch was impossibly gentle, as if even the fabric you wore deserved to be worshipped.

He kissed your jaw again–open-mouthed, soft–and then you felt the light tug at your shoulder as he slipped the strap down. The fabric eased across your skin with a quiet drag, and you shivered beneath it, watching the way his eyes followed the path like it was sacred scripture.

His lips returned to your skin, grazing over the hollow of your collarbone before whispering into it–so quiet you almost didn’t catch it.

”C-Can I look?” You nodded.

”Yes…Of course.” You whispered. His hand twitched where it rested at the curve of your spine, and then, with a sort of hesitance that nearly broke you, he slid his hand up to the clasp of your bra, his fingertips brushing clumsily along them, missing the latch twice. You couldn’t help but smile at the fumbling, as he let out a breathy, nervous laugh against your skin, while his forehead dropped to your shoulder in a sheepish show of surrender.

”I-I swear I’m trying,” He murmured, the corners of his lips curling up. You laughed with him, soft and unhurried, before pressing a kiss to his temple.

“I’ve got it,” You said, reaching one arm behind yourself with practiced ease. The clasp gave one tiny click and you slid the loose straps down your arms, letting it join your t-shirt that was beside you. When you straightened back up, bare now in the soft glow of the moonlight, Bob didn’t move at first, he just stared.

Not in a greedy way, not in the way you were used to being looked at, it was with such desire and want it made your stomach turn. Like he was trying to memorize the details of your body so when he closed his eyes he’d be able to picture it.

His hands slid up slowly from your waist, palms wide, cautious, and trembling just slightly as they moved to trace along your ribs. His thumbs brushed upward–barely skimming the outer swell of your breasts–before he let out a long, shaky breath and leaned in. His lips pressed to the curve of your breast, just above your heart, and you felt the sigh leave him as he held you like you were something holy.

You curled your fingers into his hair, watching him.

“Bob…” You whispered, but it was barely a sound.

He lifted his head just long enough to meet your gaze. His cheeks were flushed, his lips already kiss-bitten and pink.

“I-I’ve imagined this so many times,” He said softly, almost apologetically. “But it never felt like this. I-It never felt this real.”

And then his mouth returned to your skin–this time lower.

He kissed across the top of your breast, then the underside, open-mouthed, so gentle you almost whimpered. His tongue barely grazed, only enough to tease, to taste. You felt the warmth of him, the way he held one breast up in his hand with delicate fingers while he mouthed softly at the other. You gasped when his lips closed over your nipple, sucking gently, and your back arched toward him without meaning to.

You slid your hands beneath the hem of his sweater, then under his shirt, fingers meeting hot, bare skin. He jumped slightly at the sudden contact, pulling back from your chest just enough to pant softly against it.

“C-Cold hands,” He whispered breathlessly, grinning faintly against your skin even though his whole body was burning with heat. “Or maybe I’m j-just really warm…” You laughed again, low and soft.

“You are, I think I can even feel your blood boiling.” You joked, keeping your hands under his shirt, palms smoothing across his back and up over the planes of his stomach and chest. You could feel how solid he was beneath you–not just strong, but sensitive, pliant, like he wanted to give all of himself over to your hands, your mouth, your gaze.

And he did.

Bob went back to your breasts, now kissing them between worshipful sighs and breathless, choked words.

“You’re so…So soft,” He murmured against your skin, his lips brushing your sternum. “So warm… I didn’t know it could feel like this. I-I didn’t know it could feel this good just…Just to be close to you...”

You felt a swell of something tender and aching crash into your chest.

You cupped his jaw, tilting his face up so he’d look at you. And he did with red-cheeks, wide-eyes, and lips that were still shining faintly from the saliva that coated them. And then you leaned in again and kissed him—deeper this time. Slower. You pushed your tongue into his mouth, tasting him, letting him taste you.

His arms wrapped tighter around your waist again and this time, he moved.

“C-Can I…” He panted into the kiss, “Can I bring you to t-the bed?”You nodded against his lips.

“Yes, Bob. Please.” He stood slowly, hands steadying you as he rose, and then–without any real effort at all–he lifted you into his arms. You clutched at his shirt as your legs wrapped instinctively around his waist, a soft gasp leaving your lips.

”Jesus, sometimes I forget you’re a superhuman basically…” He laughed–nervous but proud that he surprised you with his strength.

”I d-don’t really show it off, so I don’t b-blame you for forgetting.” He murmured, as his skin continued to heat up against you. He walked the two of you the short distance to the unmade bed and lowered you gently onto the cold sheets.

But instead of climbing on top of you, he slid in beside you, curling close–not out of hesitation, but intimacy.

You turned onto your side, your body instinctively seeking him, and hooked one leg over his hip, bringing your thigh around him and pulling him in. The moment he was close enough, you kissed him again–your hands sliding up into his hair, fingers threading through the soft brown strands at the back of his head.

Immediately, he melted into the kiss, groaning softly into your mouth–barely audible, but it vibrated through your chest, and curled low in your stomach– where the tension began to build. Your lips moved against each other in a rhythm that felt like it had been written in the marrow of your bones, like the both of you belonged there together in that moment.

And then Bob pulled back–just enough to look at you. His pupils were blown wide, eating away at the lush blue, his lips were wet and parted as he breathed shallowly, trembling slightly.

”I-I wanna feel everything,” He whispered.

Then with a move that felt bolder than anything he’d ever done, he pulled at the collar of his sweater, pulling it off. The hem dragged over his head, catching slightly on his hair before he tossed it aside, his t-shirt following soon after–slightly rumpled and damp from how hot he was getting.

The moonlight etched the shape of him–slender but strong, pale skin kissed splashed with little drops of freckles and barely-there scars. You saw the muscles move under the skin of his stomach when he breathed in, saw the way his chest rose and fell like he was trying to stay steady in a storm of want.

He slid his arm under your neck and around your shoulders, pulling you close, gathering you into the crook of his body like he needed every inch of contact. Your leg stayed hooked over his waist, your hips now pressed firmly together, heat and need blooming where your bodies touched.

His hand slid slowly down your spine, palm wide, curling gently around the dip of your lower back.

And then he kissed you again.

It wasn’t hurried. It wasn’t rushed. It was molten. Deep. Slow and desperate.

You could feel the way his lips moved with a kind of hunger that didn’t want to consume you–it wanted to worship every inch of you.

As your tongues brushed, you shifted your hips, rolling gently against the line of his thigh. His breath hitched, a surprised little gasp breaking the kiss.

And then his knee shifted.

He tilted his leg slightly between yours, giving you the perfect angle to move against him–and you did. Slowly at first. Just the press of your body rocking into his. You moaned softly against his lips as you rolled your hips again, dragging yourself along him with just the right amount of pressure. It wasn’t loud, but it vibrated between your mouths, slipping into him like a secret you wanted him to feel in his bones.

His lips barely touched yours now–just ghosting–warm and open and trembling, like he was terrified to break the moment. You breathed in at the same time he exhaled, your lips parting in tandem, and it felt like you were drinking each other in. Breath passed between you in small, shared gasps, heat curling where mouths nearly met, where words became vapor.

“Bob…” You whispered into him, and his name felt like silk on your tongue.

The air between your mouths wasn’t even air anymore. It was communion. Heat. Exchange. Like you were tethered by the sheer force of needing each other. His nose brushed yours. Your foreheads pressed together. His breath hit your tongue before it hit his own lungs.

And still–you craved Bob’s touch even more.

You reached between your bodies, your fingers skimming over his wrist before curling around it gently. His pulse jumped under your touch.

You guided his hand down until his knuckles met the waistband of your sweatpants. His breath faltered.

“I need more…” You whispered, voice raw and low–on the brink of begging, “Please…”

Bob didn’t speak at first. He just nodded, quickly like that word please had been carved into him. Then, with trembling fingers, he tugged at the tie of your sweatpants, undoing the bow with care, like he was unwrapping something sacred.

As he did, your fingers slipped down to the tie of his–mirroring him. Equal.

He froze just a little.

“W-What…What are you doing?” he asked, voice cracking like a matchstick in the dark.

Your hand kept working the knot, lips hovering over his, your nose brushing his as you breathed:

“I don’t want to be the only one being touched like this.” His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, jaw tightening, chest rising as he tried to hold himself together. But your voice–your need–had undone him completely. He nodded again, slower this time, gaze trailing down to where your hands were now at each other’s waistbands.

And then you both moved.

It wasn’t graceful–no art to it. Just need. Just fumbling, frantic hands pushing sweatpants down over hips, wriggling out of the fabric together in a tangle of half-laughs and sharp breaths and grazes of skin.

Your legs kicked the soft fabric off the edge of the bed and his did the same.

And then you were back–wrapped around each other again. The arm beneath your head pulled you in slowly, as his hand splayed between your shoulder blades, fingers curling slightly like he needed to grab onto something to keep him in the moment. Your thigh returned to his hip, locking yourself into him, and the kiss you shared was now pure fire. It was teeth and tongue and breath and a low, desperate sound torn straight from his throat.

You kissed him like you couldn’t get deep enough. Like you’d climb inside his chest if he let you. And he would. He would.

His hand slid up the back of your neck and into your hair as your mouth’s finally slowed, pulling back slightly to breathe. Your lips stayed apart for him, letting a whisper of space between you.

Your noses touched. His forehead pressed to yours. And when you opened your eyes, he was already staring–flushed and wide and wrecked in the most beautiful way.

Then Bob’s hand moved. Slowly. Purposefully.

He brought it to your mouth, two fingers extended–not tentative, but gently.

“Let me,” He whispered.

You nodded, opening your mouth just a little more for him. You took his fingers in without hesitation, wrapping your tongue around them, wetting them with slow, deliberate passes. His eyes fluttered closed, his breath shaking as you sucked softly–just enough to coat them in warmth.

When he withdrew, he immediately slid his hand down. Beneath your underwear.

And when his fingers found you–hot, wet, already aching for him–he moaned into your cheek.

“Oh, God…” Was all he could choke out, as he slid through your arousal, slow and careful, dragging every drop of slickness to your clit in gentle circles. You gasped–your whole body arching forward into him, closing your eyes at the sensation of his fingers against you.

Your hand moved too now–down his chest, over the soft lines of his abdomen–until your hand slipped beneath the waistband of his briefs. He hissed at the contact, his forehead dropping to your shoulder.

You found him hard and hot in your hand, thick and twitching under your fingers as you wrapped around him, stroking slow. Just once. Just enough to feel him jump in your palm.

Bob groaned, low and guttural against your skin.

You both moved together, hands working in tandem–your touch on him firm and steady, his fingers stroking you in slow circles until he dipped one inside. Then another. Stretching you gently, curling just enough to make your breath catch, your thighs tremble.

The bed creaked softly beneath you as the both of you writhed beneath each others hands

Skin to skin. Mouth to mouth. You moved together like a tide pull–rocking, gasping, fingers slipping and sliding against one another.

Bob adjusted himself slightly, pressing closer to you, before moving his fingers quicker now–they were still gentle, but there was more purpose to his movements. Like he couldn’t help it. Like your body had hypnotized him into doing exactly what you needed him to do, and his only job was to listen. The pads of his fingers pressed and curled inside you, while his thumb circled your clit with more pressure than before, and the sensation that came from this change bloomed in sharp and immediate trembles.

You gasped–high and sudden–your head tilting back into the solidness of his arm that was wrapped around the back of your neck. Your hand that was wrapped around him, stilled. You couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

It was too much.

Your free hand flew to his shoulder, fingers digging in, nails curling against the slope of muscle. You clung to him like he was the only thing anchoring you to the bed, to the moment, to yourself.

Bob’s breath caught as he felt you seize around him, as he watched your eyes flutter and your mouth part in a soundless moan that finally broke into a quiet, desperate whimper. His name left your lips like a secret you’d never told anyone else–torn from the center of you. He could feel it, the way your body trembled against him, the way your muscles clenched around his fingers in tight, rhythmic pulses.

And he watched.

He watched you come undone with a look of sheer awe painted across his face. His lips parted slightly, eyes fixed on yours, and then on your mouth, like he couldn’t decide what was more beautiful: the way you looked when you fell apart, or the sound of his name when you did.

Your brows furrowed with the force of it, your thighs tightening around his hips, your breath breaking apart like waves crashing on rock.

Bob didn’t stop—not until he felt you ride the last crest of it, your body softening again beneath him. And when you finally blinked, eyes unfocused and lips still parted, he leaned forward and kissed your cheek. Reverent. Almost trembling.

He withdrew his fingers slowly, gently, like he didn’t want to startle you after such a fragile, shattering moment. You shivered at the loss, and he whispered something into your skin—too soft to make out. But his breath was warm. His lips were warm.

And then he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze.

His hand hovered between you, the slick still glistening faintly in the low light. But he didn’t wipe it away. He just looked at you like you were the most divine thing he’d ever seen.

“C-Can I take these off?” He asked, his voice thick with longing, with excitement, with the weight of everything he was holding back.

His hand ghosted over the band of your underwear, waiting.

You nodded slowly, still breathless, still catching your bearings.

”Yes…Yes please…Please just do what you want to me Bob…I’m already yours.” The moment those words left your lips, one thing inside Bob snapped like a wire that had been wrapped too tight. It wasn’t in a wild, unruly way though. No–this was quiet, controlled, but powerful.

His breath shuddered in his chest as he surged forward to kiss you harder this time, deepening it almost instantly. It was desperate but gently, like he needed to pour all the feelings he couldn’t say into your mouth, into the space between your teeth and tongue and breath.

As he kissed you, his fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your underwear, dragging the last barrier down slowly, reverently. His knuckles skimmed your thighs, your hips, the swell of your backside. The fabric clung slightly, then surrendered, pooling around your knees before you helped kick it away.

Bob’s hand dipped next to his own waistband, and you could feel the moment he slid his briefs off. The subtle lift of his hips. The faint brush of heat and bare skin against yours. He was pressed close now–every inch of him.

And when you looked down between your bodies, when your eyes caught the sight of him fully bared–his length flushed light red and thick, curving slightly, the tip glistening with need–you felt heat flood every nerve in your body. The moment was more than just physical. It was overwhelming. He was ready, so ready, not just in body but in soul, in the way he looked at you like you were gravity and breath and sky all at once.

Bob swallowed hard, as if he could feel you seeing all of him, as if the intimacy of being witnessed so completely was almost too much to bear.

But he didn’t look away.

Instead, he shifted–slowly, carefully–until he was over you. His hands pressed into the bed on either side of your body, muscles tense as though he were anchoring himself to the world. You welcomed him with a soft sigh, parting your legs wider to cradle his hips, letting him settle into the space that had always been meant for him–since the day you realized you wanted him like this.

He leaned down first–pressing a kiss to your chest. Right between your breasts. Then another to the slope of one, then the other. Then higher. His lips grazed your sternum, your collarbone, the hollow of your throat. Each kiss was warm, slow, and sacred.

By the time his mouth found yours again, you were breathless from just the journey of it.

He kissed you with everything. Not just hunger, but reverence. Like your lips were a language he’d studied for years but only just learned how to speak.

And then–without a word–he reached for your hand.

You let him take it easily, watching the way his long fingers wrapped around yours. He brought it up gently, pressing it down into the mattress beside your head, his grip secure but soft–like he wanted to hold you in place but never trap you.

That one motion nearly undid you.

It wasn’t restraint.

It was his way of closeness. The kind that made you feel tethered to him, like your bodies weren’t just aligned–they were entwined, they were marking. Like they were made to be this close. Built for this level of intimacy for only each other.

His forehead rested against yours again. You could feel every exhale fan across your lips.

“I wanna go slow,” He whimpered, voice breaking like dusk light through the curtains. “I wanna…Wanna feel all of you…Every second of you…”

You reached your free hand up to his face, and your thumb brushed across his cheekbone, slow and tender, like you were tracing the edge of a secret only you were allowed to know. His skin was warm beneath your touch–warmer than it had ever been–and you could feel the tremble in his breath as he waited, eyes searching yours like they were the only compass he had left.

“And I want you to lose yourself in me.” You replied. His eyes fluttered shut, and for a moment he just breathed like your words had cracked something open in his chest. When he looked at you again, there was something new behind his expression–like awe and fear had melted into devotion.

“If anything becomes too much, you have to tell me…” He said, voice almost broken with the weight of care. You nodded, but your hand tightened in his.

”It won’t…But I promise if it does I will tell you.” He dipped his head lower again, as if he couldn't bear the space between your mouths any longer, and pressed a kiss to your lips again absorbing the softness of them, the warmth. Your hand threaded through his hair, fingertips curling at the nape of his neck, guiding him so he was pressed right against you.

And then–his hand moved down between your bodies. You felt the slow drag of his palm against the outside of your thigh, then the careful slide of his fingers as he reached down and guided himself to you. He breathed out when he felt you coat him, your wetness catching on every ridge of him as he slid himself against your entrance–once, twice, gathering all of you onto him. His body twitched with restraint. His jaw clenched. He pressed his forehead harder against yours as if the contact was the only thing keeping him from breaking apart entirely.

The moment he pushed in, your bodies stopped breathing.

Your mouth parted with a gasp–sharp and soft–as he sank into you slowly, inch by inch, until you felt your body stretch and adjust to every curve of him. Bob choked on a breath the second he felt your warmth take him in, his face screwing up in something between a sob and a moan. His forehead pressed harder against yours, like if he moved any other way he’d fall apart.

“God–oh, God…” He whispered, voice ragged and frayed at the edges. “Holy…You’re…You’re so” He couldn’t finish the sentence. He was too overwhelmed by the feel of you wrapped around him, every pulse and tremble drawing him deeper into the haze of you.

Your hand clenched tighter in his, and you felt the way his fingers locked with yours, grounding himself with your grip as he bottomed out. A low, aching sound slipped from your throat and caught in the space between your lips, and you felt it shake against his mouth as he kissed you again–slow, reverent, his tongue barely brushing yours as he tried to breathe.

“You’re doing so good,” You whispered into him, your voice like silk over fire. “Just stay right there. Just let me feel you…”

He whimpered at that, a broken noise into your mouth, like the praise undid him. He didn’t move–couldn’t, not yet at least. He was just holding himself there, buried inside you, feeling the way your body fluttered around him.

“I-It’s like…Like you’re pulling me apart,” He said, breathless. “And putting me back together all at once…”

His hand left yours slowly, reluctantly, fingers sliding down your wrist with a feather-light touch as he reached for your thigh. You felt it happen in stages–the way his hand cradled the back of your knee, the way he gently guided your leg up higher on his waist, opening you up further, angling himself deeper.

The shift made your breath catch. He slid in even further, the new position sending a wave of pressure right through your core, and you gasped into his mouth. Bob groaned–breathlessly low, lost—and his hips jolted forward once, like he couldn’t help himself.

You could feel him trembling above you, his hand still gripping your thigh like it was the only thing anchoring him to the planet.

“I need…” he murmured into your neck, voice barely coherent, “Need to be closer—need to feel all of you.”

“You are,” You whispered back, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, holding him close. “You’re already in every part of me.”

He rocked into you, slow at first–agonizing in its care–like he wanted to memorize every detail, every sound you made when he moved. Your bodies stayed pressed together, chest to chest, lips to jaw, gasps shared like breathless secrets.

And then you reached up.

You cupped his face, thumbs brushing over his cheeks, until your fingers slid gently into his mouth. Bob’s eyes fluttered open, glassy and stunned–and then he groaned, low in his chest, as he closed his lips around them.

You watched him–watched his lashes flutter, his breath hitch, the way his hips stuttered forward harder now, more desperate, like the taste of you on his tongue had undone something deep and buried inside him.

You moaned at the sight of it–at the way he sucked your thumbs, not rough, but with such reverence you almost passed out, on the brink of obedience.

You slipped your thumbs from his mouth slowly, watching the glossy string of saliva stretch and catch in the moonlight like silk spun from reverence. Bob’s lips stayed parted, his breath hot against your fingers, his tongue brushing the edge of one thumb as you pulled it away. And then, without breaking the contact, you trailed the damp touch down his jaw–soft, deliberate, leaving a glistening line in its wake.

His whole body stilled.

You felt him twitch inside you, felt the sharp inhale he tried and failed to control. And then your fingers tilted his chin up.

“Look at me,” You whispered, your voice low and rich with everything you couldn’t say with words alone. His eyes lifted to yours like he was coming up for air, like your gaze was the only thing keeping him from dissolving into the moment completely. He looked wrecked–beautifully so. Lips kiss-bruised, cheeks flushed to the tips of his ears, pupils swallowing the blue of his eyes completely now. You could see every flicker of awe in his expression, every ounce of need, of surrender. You brushed your fingers along the edge of his jaw, then swept them up into his hair, pushing the sweat-dampened strands from his forehead with aching tenderness. His breath caught when you did it, like your touch alone unraveled something buried too deep for him to reach.

“You’re doing so good…You feel so good inside me, Bob.” You whispered, voice like velvet as your thumbs stroked the sides of his face. His hips stuttered forward—once, then again. A trembling gasp slipped from his throat as he sank in deeper, the pace no longer slow but no less careful. It was desperate now. Steady and aching. Each thrust felt like it was pulled from the center of him, like he was trying to carve himself into your body—leaving a part of his soul there.

The sound of skin meeting skin filled the room in soft, rhythmic slaps. Your breathing hitched with each one, your legs tightening around his hips to pull him in, to keep him close. You could feel how badly he was trying to keep control, how every movement was threaded with reverence and restraint. But his body–his need–was beginning to override his fear.

And you wanted that.

“Don’t hold back,” You said between soft gasps, brushing his hair back again, curling your fingers against his neck. “I want you to give it to me. Everything.”

His face twisted like he was going to cry. He dipped down and kissed you hard, and sloppily, like he was already too far gone to keep it clean. His tongue slipped into your mouth, searching for yours, and when he found it, he moaned into the kiss like he’d been starving for it. He fucked you through it–deeper now, faster–his hips rolling in a way that had your head falling back onto the pillows.

“Oh God…Oh–fuck–Bob,” You whined, your nails raking lightly down his back. He gasped at the sharp drag, chasing the friction because he liked the burn it brought him.

“I-I’m s-sorry,” He choked, voice breaking as his thrusts grew uneven. “I can’t—I can’t slow down—I n-need—”

”No…Fuck. Don’t apologize you feel so fucking good. Please––Please don’t fucking stop.” You interrupted, desperate now, feeling your stomach twisting into knots. He dropped his forehead against yours again, lips brushing yours with every breath, and drove into you harder. Deeper. Each movement was more desperate, more pleading, as if his body was trying to reach some part of you his words couldn’t. The bed shifted beneath you, the frame creaking, but neither of you noticed. Not when it felt like your souls were colliding.

You felt everything building again, fast–hot and coiled and pulsing at the center of you.

“Bob…” You whimpered, your voice cracking with need, “I-I’m close, I’m so close…” His eyes met yours again–blown wide, glassy, nodding.

“I-I’m gonna come too,” He panted, and then the question tumbled out of him, desperate and ragged–“Where—Where do you want me to…?”

Your body trembled.

“In me,” You breathed, cupping his cheek again, pulling him close, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Inside me, Bob. I want to feel it dripping out of me all day tomorrow.”

And that was it.

Bob cried out–barely a sound, more of a broken whimper–and buried himself to the hilt inside you. His hips stilled with a violent shudder, and then he came. You felt the heat of it, the way his body jerked as he pulsed inside you, moaning your name like it was the only prayer he knew. His arms locked around you, trembling as he held you through it.

And then–seconds later–you followed.

You clenched around him as your body went tight, your back arching off the bed, your lips parting in a soundless cry that turned into a whimper of his name. He felt you come around him, fluttering, pulsing, your legs tightening around his waist as your body shook with the force of it.

He kissed you through the aftershocks–soft and slow now. Like a thank you. Like an apology. Like he was still trying to give you more even after he’d already given you everything. Then he collapsed into your arms, chest heaving, lips brushing against your throat with such tenderness you were beginning to feel overwhelmed by how much he truly cared about you.

And then–out of nowhere–you laughed. It wasn’t loud or mocking. It was soft, breathy, and stunned.

“W-What? What did I––Did I do something?” He asked, lifting his head quickly, eyes wide and flushed with concern. You reached up, still giggling as your fingers gently swept the hair off his forehead.

”No,” You said with a smile so wide your cheeks ached, “No, it’s nothing like that, it’s just…I can’t believe we didn’t do this sooner.” You could see the relief in Bob’s eyes when you said it, as he let out the softest laugh. A breathless, giddy kind of noise.

”I-I was so scared to mess the friendship up…” He admitted, his nose brushing yours again, voice low and shy, “But I’ve wanted you for so long…” You nodded.

”I know,” You whispered, kissing his cheek, “Me too Bob.” He let the moment linger for a heartbeat longer, then shifted slightly, wincing as he carefully pulled back. You gasped quietly at the sensation of him slipping out, a hot flutter leaving your core in the wake of it. You tightened your thighs reflexively as you sighed, and Bob caught the look on your face instantly.

“Are you okay?” He asked, concerned now, pushing your hair back from your forehead.

”Just a bit sore,” You admitted, cheeks flushed, “It’s been a while since I…Y’know.” Bob nodded, slowly getting up from the bed, pulling on the boxers he had on before.

”I’ll be right back–I’m gonna grab a warm washcloth, okay?” He said gently, giving you a gentle kiss on your lips, “Don’t move.” You smiled at him.

”Okay.” You whispered, watching his silhouette pad across the room and disappear into the bathroom, as he turned on the pale white light. You could hear the gentle rush of water, the sound of the towel drawer sliding open, and the rustle of cloth.

He returned a minute later, stopping at his dresser to pull a pair of boxer shorts and one of his old, soft t-shirts, before making his way back to you.

“A-Alright,” He whispered, setting the clothes beside you as he kneeled back onto the bed, “You tell me if anything hurts…Okay?” You nodded, watching as he eased your thighs open. You winced slightly at the sting, but bit back a gasp. He brought the cloth between your legs and cleaned you carefully, delicately, like every part of you was sacred. The warmth helped a bit with the soreness thankfully, so now all you felt was the euphoria of the come down.

Once he finished, he set the cloth on the bedside table, then helped ease the boxers up your legs. They were soft and loose around your thighs, a simple comfort, as you lifted your hips slightly to help. He then tugged the shirt gently over your head, guiding your arms through the sleeves with a kind of tender concentration like he was worried he might do it wrong.

When it was all done he let out a soft sigh, one full of warmth and the heavy pull of contentment. You were blissed out, sore in a way that felt good. And he was still looking at you with such admiration it made your heart race.

You lifted your arms in front of you.

The motion was simple–gentle, slow, but deliberate. An offering. A request. And Bob’s entire body reacted to it like it was instinct. He didn’t say anything–didn’t need to. His shoulders dipped forward as he crawled up into your arms, letting himself be folded against your chest, nuzzling in like he was coming home. He was careful, even now–making sure his weight didn’t press too much into your legs, tugging the thin top sheet off the corner of the bed before wrapping it loosely around both of your bodies.

He laid his head on your chest, just over your heart, and you felt him exhale fully for what might’ve been the first time all night. His arm slipped around your waist, his other hand curling loosely over your ribs as he pressed his cheek to the center of you, listening.

You held him close, your arms winding around his shoulders, fingers sliding gently into his hair, brushing slowly along his scalp in lazy, thoughtful strokes. He hummed–barely a sound, more of a breath–but it vibrated softly into the shirt you wore.

The sheet was thin, barely a whisper of fabric between you and the cooling air, but you didn’t need more than that. Not when you had this. The weight of him. The heat of him. Bob tilted his face slightly, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the fabric at the underside of your breast, where your heartbeat fluttered near the surface. You smiled at him, your hand stroking down the back of his neck, feeling the way he melted into you even further.

“Y-You’re amazing Y/N…” He whispered, “And I’m so…So in love with you.”

[rafesangelita]

♡ “have you ever tried this one?” in which kook!sweetheart!reader convinces rafe to take her to go see one of her favorite artists, and as a ‘thank you’ she and rafe have to do whatever position sabrina demo’s for her song “juno”..

warnings: fluff, unprotected sex, dirty talk, praise, breeding kink (?)

a/n: so sad because i didn’t get to see sabrina on tour, and she has had me in the meanest chokehold lately :( click this link to see what position i’m referring to <3

when the dates dropped for sabrina’s ‘short n’ sweet’ tour, rafe wasted no time in buying you two tickets. of course, you didn’t know this and begged him for weeks until he finally told you yes, your flight and hotel room already booked for a nice little weekend getaway. rafe helped you make your concert outfit, both of you spending hours on the whole ensemble. the end result was absolutely stunning and rafe couldn’t stop taking pictures of you.

he posted one on the night of the concert, captioning it ‘my little popstar princess <3’ and you two were off to the stadium. while you knew wearing sparkly white platform boots wouldn’t be the best choice to walk in, you stuck it through, and as soon as the lights dimmed and the music started, any kind of discomfort you felt had melted away as you were far too distracted singing along to every song that boomed through the venue.

babydoll lingerie top with pink fluffy trim, dedazzled stockings, glittery makeup, your hair freshly done, rafe swore you never looked prettier. even though he was against wearing anything that sparkled, he decided to wear a plain pink t-shirt to match with you in his own little way. he kept his arms wrapped around your waist as you two sung, having learned the lyrics to every song since you insisted on being in charge of the aux cord whenever you two were in his truck.

eventually, you two were swaying softly, rafe’s chin resting in the curve of your neck as you stroked the skin of his arm. “thank you for bringing me here.” you smiled up at him, connecting your lips as the intro to ‘juno’ started playing. rafe hummed, leaning down so you could hear him. “you know i had to bring you, baby.. what do you say you thank me another way when we get back to our room?” your cheeks heated as you laughed softly.

“yeah, i’d like that,” you pecked his cheek, “how about we do the position she does for the song?” rafe smiled, both of you fixing your attention on the stage. you waited with anticipation, your heart beating in your ears when she bent over and touched her toes. rafe cheered, making you laugh as he couldn’t wait to get you back to the hotel. luckily for him, there was only a few more songs left before the show ended and the two of you rushed out of there.

it wasn’t long after you two walked through the door that rafe had your boots thrown in a forgotten corner, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips as he took you roughly from behind. you struggled to keep your hands placed on your perfectly pedicured toes, your knees threatening to give out from under you while rafe thrusted into you at an unforgiving pace. “holy fuck, you’re taking it so fuckin’ good, gorgeous, ‘might just let you get off your tippy toes and put you on your back instead.”

you cried out, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as his pelvis smacked against the back of your ass. “can’t, rafe!” you shrieked, nearly doubling over before your boyfriend reached down and grabbed your arms, holding you by your wrists as you hung helplessly from his grip. he was fucking you stupid, and your lack of thoughts was proof of it. you couldn’t think, the feeling of rafe’s cock stroking that soft gummy spot inside of you made you whimper pathetically.

finally, you couldn’t hold yourself up anymore, your knees meeting the carpeted floor. rafe picked you up, cursing under his breath as he encouraged you to get back in position. “promise i’ll have you in bed soon, pretty, you could hold out for me, yeah?” you shuddered, looking at him from behind your shoulder with that fucked-out gaze he loved so much. you had tears in your eyes, your body glitter still sparkling under the soft lighting.

giving him a little nod, you reached down once again, holding onto your ankles for dear life as rafe circled an arm under your hips, holding you up as his fingers started working on your clit. “oh!” you were in hysterics, your blood rushing to your head as he landed a harsh smack to your backside. “come on, baby, ‘wanna feel this pussy squeeze around me.” you moaned at his words, your orgasm just in arm’s reach as rafe’s thrusts grew uncalculated. “rafe?” you could barely speak, the band in your stomach threatening to snap at any moment.

“talk to me.” he groaned, teetering the edge of pure euphoria. “make me juno?” you giggled for a split second, the insinuation only turning rafe on even more. “fuck, yeah? ‘want me to fill you up, give you a baby?” you let out a distorted “mhmm!’, the two of you gasping when your highs took you both to cloud nine. rafe pulled you back up, your chest rising and falling while your legs shook with your orgasm. pressing wet kisses to your neck, rafe did exactly as he said, his hips stuttering as hot, thick ropes of cum painted your velvety walls.

you two stayed like this, pressed against one another until your breathing slowed, the aftershocks subsiding before rafe laid you both down in bed. “we should have a ‘short n’ sweet’ themed baby shower.. we could serve espressos.” rafe laughed, draping an arm over your tummy. “we’ll see.” he hummed. your eyes fluttered shut as you breathed him in, his cologne still heavy on his skin. “you know what we should try when we get back home?” rafe traced shapes into your side, mumbling a ‘what’s that?’

“pink fuzzy handcuffs.”

[agxxb]

We All Need Joel’s Help .𖥔 ݁ ˖

joel miller x f!reader

summary: after ellie embarrasses joel at the winter dance, you help take his mind off of it.

warnings: smut. fluff. angst. unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!). use of pet names (sweetheart, honey, my love, darling). praise. age gap (reader is in her 30s, joel is his age in the second season). no mention of y/n. [ 4k ]

You saw Seth's outburst at Ellie and Dina firsthand, and Joel's reaction was immediate — his body tense, fists clenched at his sides. He pushed his body away from the bar he stood at beside you, rushing forward and placing his hands on the older man, the entire town watching Seth fall to the floor from Joel’s forceful shove.

Ellie’s face was frozen in horror, but it was anger that burned through most vividly. She watched as Maria rushed to pull Seth away, then turned her eyes to Joel – the man who had become a father to her – standing there, silently waiting to ask if she was alright.

That’s when everything fell apart.

“I don’t need your fucking help.”

The entire hall fell silent, the weight of Joel’s pain hanging in the air, and he took a step back, his chest tightening with a pain that was sharper than any blade. His eyes locked onto Ellie, but all he found was a hardness in her eyes that he had never seen before. The harsh words hung in the air, and for a moment the world seemed to fade away. It was as if time had frozen, the silence so loud it deafened everyone in the hall. Then everything came crashing back. The hum of electricity, your breathing, the sound of Joel’s boots on the ground as he walked forward and out of the church. Acting on nothing but instinct, you gave Ellie a small, tight-lipped smile as you past her and followed Joel outside.

The sudden cold hit you as you walked outside, the temperature having dropped significantly despite it only being an hour or so since you entered the church. The lights of Jackson were dim compared to the lively glow of the dance. You spotted Joel's tall, broad figure stood by a lamp near the church, one hand running through his hair as his head tilted downwards.

"Joel?” You started, and his attention snapped over to you as you approached, head lifting to meet your gaze.

You heard the quiet sniffle that he tried to hide and watched as he brought his hand up to wipe away a tear. A beat of silence passed as you took a few steps closer, then another. And another. You stopped when you were less than a meter away, the light from the lamp illuminating Joel’s features. His face was weary and gaunt, the years showing themselves on his tired, sad eyes. You wanted to reach out to him… To comfort him…

"You alright?" You heard yourself ask, and the moment the words left your mouth you knew it was a dumb question.

He let out a scoff in response, hand dropping to his side as he moved to lean back against the wall of the building next to the church. He was quiet, his gaze falling to the ground, eyes glossy. You gave him a soft smile, a small one that held both love and understanding. Silence fell once more as you studied Joel’s figure, his shoulders slumped and head lowered in defeat. He looked broken, as if everything was finally catching up to him. And in a way, it probably was.

You knew better than to try and get Joel to talk about how he was feeling. He wasn't one to talk about his emotions, not even with you. Instead, you took in a deep breath and allowed the silence to envelope you both once more. You leaned against the wall beside him, not wanting him to be alone in that moment.

"She hates me."

You turned your head to look at him, hand reaching out to touch his, trying to ground him. "She doesn't. She's just angry because she wanted to handle the situation herself."

"I just wanted to protect her," he said, voice thick and full of emotion. “What that asshole said was out of line.”

“I know, my love.” You reached for his hand and laced your fingers with his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You did what you thought was right, and no one can fault you for that.”

He still wasn't looking at you, instead staring down at your hand, his thumb gently stroking over your skin as his fingers wrapped around your own. He was silent for a moment as he processed your words.

"But it still hurt her,” he admitted finally, his voice soft yet rough.

You nodded in understanding, your heart felt heavy seeing Joel this way. "I know," you replied gently, “But trust me when I say that she'll come around. She just needs some time to process everything."

Joel said nothing in response, his eyes now having returned to looking at the ground. You could tell he was still beating himself up over the entire situation.

"Come here.”

You let go of his hand and moved to stand in front of him, arms open for him to fall into. He didn’t hesitate, and you felt his head rest against your shoulder as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, instantly feeling the dampness of his tears on your skin. You held him tightly, one hand moving to gently stroke his greying hair as the other rubbed circles across his back.

"It's okay," you whispered, trying to soothe his pain. "It's going to be okay."

You felt him take in a deep, shaky breath as he pulled you even closer, his grip on you tightening. He stayed as he was for a while, silent save for the occasional soft sob or quiet sniffle that escaped him. His weight against you was comforting, and you continued to hold him, providing a safe place for him to let out his pain and frustration.

He shook his head lightly against you, and you heard his voice, muffled by the fabric of your clothes. "I just... I want her to be happy. I miss her."

You nodded, and even though you knew he couldn't see it, he could feel it. "I know, honey. She just needs some time to cool off, that's all.”

There was a moment of silence as Joel held onto you, and you could feel the tremors running through his body as he tried to contain his emotions. You continued to run your hand up and down his back, not saying a word, just allowing him to feel whatever he needed to feel. After several moments, he pulled away slightly and looked at you, his face tear-streaked. Your heart broke seeing him like this, so vulnerable and hurting. So, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his temple, right above his scar.

"Let's get you home, yeah?”

He nodded, a final sniffle leaving him before he pulled back from the embrace. You interlocked your fingers with his once again as you turned and began walking together, the snow-dusted dirt crunching beneath your boots.

As you walked through the streets of Jackson, the town was quiet and peaceful, the only sounds coming from the soft crunch of snow beneath your feet and the faint music in the distance. Tall lamps on the sides of the roads gave off a soft, warm glow, and the houses had large porches wrapped around the outer walls. You could see glimpses of the town's residents inside their homes through the windows, warm fires burning in the fireplaces and the low hums of conversation. There was comfort in the silence, in the way your shoulders brushed every so often.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to reach home. When you stepped into the house, it was warm despite having no heat source on for a few hours. You flicked on the nearest lamp, letting the soft orange glow fill the room, and turned to Joel as you shrugged off your jacket. You saw the exhaustion in his features, the deep bags under his eyes and the slump in his shoulders. He shut the door behind the two of you and walked over to the couch, collapsing down onto it with a huff.

"I'm gonna grab something to drink, you want anything?" you asked softly, stepping closer to him.

He shook his head, but just as you were about to turn and head toward the kitchen, you felt a hand grab yours. Joel pulled you around, making you face him. Without saying a word, he tugged you closer until you were standing between his legs. You let out a small noise of surprise but quickly settled, your hip pressed against the edge of the couch. You could see Joel's face clearly now, illuminated by a shaft of moonlight streaming in from the window.

He was watching you closely, eyes roaming your face like he was trying to commit every feature to memory. His grip on your hand tightened, drawing you closer still. His other hand moved to rest on your thigh, thumb rubbing gentle circles into your jeans. You felt butterflies in your stomach as he looked at you, his touch sending electric shocks through your body. You placed a hand on top of his that was resting on your leg, gently tracing your fingertips over his knuckles.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Joel spoke quietly, his voice gruff but holding so much love. He lifted your hand, bringing it up to his lips and pressing a soft kiss against the back. “I love you.”

It was like a bolt of lightning striking through you at his words. No matter how many times he said it, your heart skipped a beat.

"I love you too," you replied, your voice barely a whisper. You brought your other hand up to cup his cheek, thumb brushing across the scruffy facial hair along his jawline.

His eyes fluttered shut at your touch, and he leaned into your hand, seeking out your touch like a man starved of affection. You couldn’t deny that you enjoyed this side of Joel — the vulnerable, tender side that only came out when he was with you.

“Still can’t believe ya want me,” he mumbled against your hand, his breath sending a shiver down your spine. “Don't know how you put up with me.”

“Always have, always will,” you promised, gently running your fingers through his hair, the silvering strands soft against your touch. “And quite easily, believe it or not.” He cracked an eye open, looking at you like he didn't quite believe you. You smiled softly and cupped his face in your hands. “I love you. That’s not gonna change just because you and El are going through a rough patch.”

Joel let out a small huff at your words, and you saw the corners of his lips pulled up in a slight smile. He leaned into your touch once more, eyes closing as he savored the feeling of your hands on his face.

“She’s pissed off with me,” he said after a moment, his voice barely above a whisper. “Can’t really blame her.” He sighed. “I just... I dunno, feel like I keep messing up with her, ya know?”

“It’ll work out.”

Joel was silent as he looked up at you, his expression softening even more. He lifted a hand to rest against your cheek, his thumb gently caressing your cheek, the calloused skin rough against your own. You leaned into his touch, a sigh escaping you as your eyes fluttered shut for a moment. It felt nice to have these moments of comfort with each other, in the midst of all the chaos that was constantly happening around you.

"I hope so," Joel said after a moment of silence, and you both knew he was talking about more than just his relationship with Ellie.

You opened your eyes to look at him, feeling a little pang in your heart at the pain that was visible on his face. He looked tired, like he had been battling demons on his own for far too long.

"Hey," you said softly, your hand moving to cover his, "You're doing the best you can. You have to give yourself some credit for that."

Joel let out a scoff, his gaze drifting away from your face to look at something in the distance. "Doesn't feel like it."

You could feel the guilt and blame radiating off him, and it pained you to see him like this. You frowned at his words, not liking how he was talking about himself. "Stop that," you said firmly and brought your hand up to his chin, tilting his head to look at you again. "You need to stop being so hard on yourself."

He let out a gruff sound that was somewhere between a scoff and a hum, but he didn't argue. Instead, his thumb brushed over your cheek again, his touch gentle yet firm.

"Sometimes my best doesn't feel like enough, ya know?"

You nodded, understanding the weight of those words all too well. "I know, but it is," you promised him. "You may not see it, but you're doing more than enough." You lifted a hand to gently touch his shoulder, feeling the tension beneath your fingertips. "You're only one person, Joel. You can't save everyone."

His eyes flicked up to meet yours, searching for any sign of a lie or doubt. When he found none, he let out a sigh and leaned his forehead against your chest, his grip on your waist tightening. You could feel the tension leaving his body as he leaned into you. His head rested just above your heart, the steady rhythm of your pulse filling his ears. It was a comforting sound, grounding him in the moment, reminding him that he wasn't alone. And here in your arms, he felt safer than he had in years.

"I just want to protect you all," he mumbled, his voice slightly muffled. "I'm scared of losing you."

Your fingers running gently across his broad shoulders, tracing small patterns as he let his guard down. He was strong and capable, but even the toughest man could break.

"You've already saved so many people," you reminded him, your voice soft. "Including me." You leaned down so your chin rested atop his head. "You're not alone in this, Joel. I'm here for you. Always."

He finally lifted his head, looking up at you from where you were perched on his lap. His eyes were tired but filled with love. He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind you ear, his thumb gently tracing along your jaw before sliding down to rest on your chin. The corners of his mouth tugged up into a small smile and his eyes were glossy. You could see the raw emotion in them. It was rare that he let himself be this vulnerable, and it only happened when he was with you.

He didn't say anything, his hand coming up to slide up your leg, fingertips leaving trails of heat in their wake. You shivered slightly at his touch, the heat of his hand seeping through your jeans. Your breath hitched in your throat as his fingers slid under your shirt, hand pausing at the spot just above the waistband, his thumb rubbing small circles into the sensitive skin. You felt yourself leaning into his touch, unable to resist the magnetic pull between you. This is what it meant to feel alive. To feel his hands on you, knowing that he was there, that you had each other.

It was a feeling you'd never get tired of.

He was watching you closely, his gaze filled with both heat and hesitation. You felt your heart rate quicken, the intensity of his look coupled with his touch driving you crazy. You knew he was asking a silent question, and with a slight movement of your hips, you gave him an answer.

His breathing hitched in his throat as you shifted on his lap, the movement bringing you even closer together. You felt his grip on your hip tighten, his fingers digging into your flesh ever so slightly. There was a moment of hesitation, a split second where the both of you held your breaths, and then he was pulling you down, crashing his lips against your own. The kiss was heated and hungry, as if he was starving for the taste of you. His tongue immediately sought entrance, and you willingly obliged, your own tongue meeting his in a desperate dance as your hands moved to cradle his face.

The two of you were pressed tightly against each other, and you could feel his body heat seeping through your clothes, the heat from his kiss adding to the flush that was probably evident on your cheeks by now. His hands were everywhere — on your hips, in your hair, slipping beneath your shirt to feel the soft skin of your back. The kiss was frenzied, the desperation in his touch sending your head spinning. You both needed this, needed the connection, the reassurance. He pulled back for a moment, his breath coming out in ragged gasps, but the look he gave you held a clear message — he wasn't done with you yet.

He kissed you again and you let out a soft moan, your fingers tangling in his long, greying hair. The feel of his lips on yours was enough to send you spiraling, the heat coiling deep in your belly. His hands moved back down to your hips, gripping tight as he pulled you flush against him, your body molding against the hard planes of his. You could feel him hardening beneath you, the knowledge sending tendrils of electricity throughout your body.

His hands slowly moved up your sides, calloused fingers skimming your ribcage, causing you to shiver. His touch was both rough and gentle, a contradiction that only served to drive you even crazier. You ground down against him, wanting nothing more than to feel closer to him, every touch and kiss leaving you needing more.

He pulled back momentarily, his gaze roaming over your face, taking in the flushed cheeks, the parted lips, the heavy-lidded eyes that were filled with desire. You began placing a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down his neck, nipping at the sensitive skin as you went. The sound of your name slipped from his lips as you nipped at the spot just below his ear.

“God, darlin’," he murmured, voice thick with need. "You're driving me insane."

You pulled back slightly with a small grin. “Yeah?”

His eyes locked with yours, the intensity behind them making your heart skip a beat. "You have any idea what you do to me?"

You ground down on his lap again, biting your bottom lip as a groan left him. “I can feel the effect I have on you.”

His grip on your hips tightened, holding you in place as you rubbed yourself against him, the friction causing a curse to escape his lips. He dropped his head to your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin.

"You're gonna be the death of me, ya know that?" he rasped out, his voice low and filled with want.

“After everything you’ve been through, you’ll end up dying in a funny way — like slipping on a golf course or something.”

He huffed out a laugh against your shoulder, vibrations sending ripples of pleasure through you. He lifted his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. He shifted against you, the action causing his groin to press up into yours, and you felt the hard length of him press against you, even through the layers of clothes.

Your breath hitched in your throat at the feeling, and he let out a soft chuckle. "You're hilarious, ya know that?”

You couldn't help but let out a soft moan, your hips involuntarily bucking against him, seeking that delicious friction. His grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your skin, a gesture that only heightened the desire coursing through you. He shifted again, his grip on your hips tight as he ground up into you, his eyes never leaving your face.

"I have my moments,” you managed to gasp out, your hands going to his shoulders to steady yourself.

He chuckled softly, his gaze flicking down to your flushed face, the desire in his expression nearly pushing you over the edge. "Oh, I know," he murmured, his voice deep and rough. He shifted again, his hips rolling against yours, creating friction that had you biting back a moan.

His fingers moved from your hips up to your waist, the gesture almost reverent, like he was touching something precious. He tugged you closer, his body heat seeping through you even through the thin shirt you were wearing. Your hands slid down from his shoulders, moving to his chest and fingers playing with the buttons of his flannel shirt, a silent request to get his consent to go further.

His eyes flicked down to your hands as they played with the buttons of his shirt, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He gave you a quick nod and you felt his grip on your hip loosen slightly, allowing you to move freely. He leaned back, resting against the couch and watching you with an intense gaze, his eyes dark with lust. You slowly unbuttoned his shirt, the fabric parting to reveal a toned chest beneath, sprinkled with scars and dusted with a light covering of hair. You traced your fingers over his skin, feeling the heat radiating from him, his muscles twitching faintly under your touch. Your eyes flicked up to his face and you saw his gaze was hooded, watching your every move with rapt attention.

He was the perfect blend of strength and snacks, body holding a soft armor of fatherhood.

You pulled back for a moment, breath coming out in short gasps. Joel's eyes were still fixed on you, his breathing just as erratic as he attempted to control his own desires. He could feel the heat radiating off your body, the tension between the two of you at its peak.

Your pause was met with a slight frown from Joel as you pulled back, his hands sliding up your arms, gripping your elbows. "Ya alright there, sweetheart?" he asked, disquiet evident in his voice.

You smiled, giving your man a slow, short nod. Gazing down at him – eyes hungry, heart full – you saw the want mirrored in his face, raw and unspoken. Right then, right there, you were exactly where you belonged.

“Never been better.”

There was a moment of silence, Joel's gaze studying you intently, his hands still holding your elbows. He could sense the sincerity in your words, and it caused a slight smile to pull at the corner of his lip.

His gaze dropped to your hands as you began unbuttoning your own shirt, the action causing his breath to hitch in his throat. The sight of your fingers moving, the movement of the fabric sliding down your shoulders... it was all driving him crazy.

“I’m one lucky son’a bitch,” he muttered to himself, his eyes following your every movement.

You dropped your hands as Joel's replaced yours, working to unbutton your shirt, his fingers deft and precise as they popped open the buttons one by one. His eyes were fixed on your skin, his breathing increasing in pace as more was revealed. He gently pushed the fabric aside, his gaze roaming over the newly exposed skin.

“You’re so beautiful.”

You smiled softly and thanked him, leaning forward to press your lips against his — this time much more soft, despite the urge still being there. He returned the kiss with equal softness, his grip on your elbows loosening as he allowed the moment to settle into something more tender. His hand came up to cup your face, his touch light and almost tentative. The kiss was gentle, a far cry from the heated passion of before, but no less intimate. The feel of his rough-worn fingers against your face a comfort as he deepened the kiss slightly, his tongue brushing against your bottom lip, seeking entrance.

You parted your lips in response, letting him in, your breaths mingling. His kisses were slow and thorough, his touch tender but firm. You could feel the heat building again, but it was different this time — less animalistic and more forbearing. His tongue glided against yours in a slow, lazy dance, as if he was savouring the taste of you. His other hand slid around your waist, pulling you even closer, the heat of his bare skin against yours driving you crazy.

You could feel his body respond instantly to your movements, his grip on your waist tightening as he let out a low groan. His lips left yours, trailing down your chin to the sensitive skin of your neck. His hands slid down to your hips, pulling you forward, grinding himself up into you. His teeth nipped at your pulse point, a desperate moan leaving your lips as you found yourself once again caught in a vehement moment with your lover.

Joel’s hands moved to the waistband of your jeans, struggling to undo them as you continued to move against him. He pulled away for a moment, looking down at where his hands worked to achieve his goal of taking your pants off. He tapped your thigh, a silent signal for you to stand, and – with your help – he managed to successfully pull them down, watching as you kicked them off before settling yourself back on his lap.

Once you were settled, his hands were on you again, impatiently sliding up your thighs, leaving scorching trails in their wake. His eyes were dark with desire, his breath coming in laboured gasps as he looked at you, his fingers digging into your skin.

“Need you,” you mumbled, hands lowering to his belt and pulling at it. You could feel the hardness of him pressing against you as you slid his belt through the loops of his jeans.

“Yeah?”

You nodded desperately, hands moving to undo the buttons of his jeans. You didn’t care if his shirt still hung around his shoulders or if his jeans weren’t entirely off — you just needed him inside you. You were soaked, all because of Joel Miller. There was something about the way his voice sounded when he spoke, so sweet and dominating, that made pleasure burn through you, making you want him even more.

You leaned forward to kiss him, your lips meeting his instantly. He kissed you almost desperately, like he was starving and you were the only thing that could possibly satisfy him. Your hands switched between resting on his chest and shoulders, pushing your underwear to the side as Joel pulled pulled himself from his boxers. He reached down and lined himself up before allowed you to sink down onto him. Your eyebrows furrowed together in pleasure, having him fill you to the brim. No matter how many times Joel fucked you, you would never get over how good he felt.

"Good girl," he murmured, voice rough. "That's my good girl."

"Oh, my god..."

You took a moment to collect yourself before lifting up and sinking back down onto him. He could feel your hands on his shoulders, your nails clawing at his skin, and it only turned him on more. You moaned as you moved, the sounds of your sopping wet pussy filling the room.

“That feel good, sweetheart?" Joel asked, voice strained with how good you felt wrapped around him.

"S-So good," you nodded, eyes closed in pleasure and moans falling freely from your pillowed lips. "So deep."

"Fuck," Joel moaned in response, eyes squeezing shut for a moment. The backs of your thighs hit his as you bounced, and it left you feeling dumb, no thoughts left in your head apart from how pretty Joel looked beneath you. His own lips parted as he reached his hands up, his thumbs brushing over your nipples as he stared as your tits in awe. “Just like that, darlin’, shit-"

He could feel every little gasp, every moan, every whimper you made, and it was driving him crazy. Despite often struggling with reaching an orgasm at his age, he could feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge, and he knew he couldn't hold back for much longer. You leaned down, his face just inches away from yours, and pressed your forehead against his. Joel suddenly slid his hand down your body, his thumb finding your clit and quickly rubbing it. You moaned loudly, nails scratching down his chest and leaving red marks in their wake.

"F-fuck!" you cried, the pleasure consuming you. You sped up, moving harder and rougher. He loved the sound of your voice, the way it changed as he touched you, the way it got higher and more desperate as you got closer.

"That's it," he rasped. "Let me hear how good you feel." He suddenly grabbed your hip, using it as leverage as he started to thrust up into you, his body tensing at the movement.

“Joel-” you whined, one hand moving to the back of his neck. You stared into his brown eyes, seeing nothing but love and desire in them. He knew you were close, could feel it in the way you moved, and he felt his own body grow taut in response.

His name on your lips sent a shiver down his spine, and he let out a soft moan, his grip on your hips tightening just a fraction. He pushed himself against you, his chest rumbling beneath your hand.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he murmured, his lips grazing against your jawline. His lips began to trail kisses down your neck, his kisses open mouthed and hot. His beard scratched against your skin, causing a moan to leave you at the feeling. “Doing such a good job for me.”

“Fuck,” you cried out, tears welling in your eyes as you looked down at him. “Y’look so good, Joel– Oh my god.” Another moan left you. “Want you to cum so deep inside me.”

Joel let out a low grown, his eyes dark with desire as he looked up at you. "Sweetheart, you're killin' me here." He pressed his face into your neck, hot breath against your skin, his fingers digging even further into your thighs in a vice grip.

“Need it, Joel — please.” He nodded against your shoulder, his eyes squeezed shut as his arms wrapped around your wait, holding you to him. His thrusts sped up, a clapping sound filling the air around you as his breathing became more laborious. “‘m gonna cum-!”

You pretty much screamed his name as you did, legs shaking around his hips with your arms hugging his head to your chest. He felt you tighten around him, felt your nails digging into his skin, and he couldn't hold back anymore.

"That’s it, sweetheart,” Joel mumbled, running purely on primal instincts now. Your tits bounced as he continued to fuck himself deeper into you. “Gonna- Fuck. Gonna cum, darlin’.”

“Inside me, cum inside me,” you pleaded, pressing kisses up and down his neck. “Please.”

Joel grabbed ahold of your hips, grinding his hips deep into yours a few more times before coming to a stop. He came hard, his body tensing up as he buried his face into your neck, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he rode out his orgasm. You felt his cum fill you up, letting out a hum of content. He was breathing heavily, his body still shaking from the intensity of his release, and he couldn't remember ever feeling this good, this wrecked, this satisfied.

“Did I ever tell you that you’re really sexy when you’re angry and protective?”

[anxiouscherubs]

find you in my heart

✦ summary: the one where you get dumped and your best friend is there to help you realize what you truly deserve… what’s been in front of you all along.

✦ warnings/tags: MDNI! 18+, explicit, smut, slight angst, some fluff, oral sex (f receiving), oral sex (m receiving), fingering, throat fucking, big dick yh, unprotected sex (be safe!), yh is desperately in love, best friends to lovers, mutual pining, mentions of cheating (past relationships), yh and reader met as baristas, pet names, au where jeong yunho can actually cook, yunho is a lil possessive

✦ pairing: nonidol!yunho x reader

✦ author’s note: as a yunho ult, a yh best friends to lovers has been at the top of my list of things to write. i started this fic after yun posted these photos because i just could not get the vision of late night walks with him out of my head! i am new to writing so any feedback is appreciated. i hope you enjoy ♡ as always, thank you to my lovely best friends for enabling me and proofreading my depravity. love you guys forever. ♡

✦ word count: 12.9k

✦ read it on ao3: here

Two years. Two years down the drain because your ex decided he “wasn’t feeling it anymore.” You had a sneaking suspicion his change of heart had to do with his hot new coworker, but you couldn’t think too far into it or it would rip you apart more than he already had. 

He had grown distant, and you chalked it up to the stress of his new job. But when he started staying late every other day and missing your sacred Thursday date nights, you knew it was the beginning of the end. You were happy together (most of the time), but you were never certain you could see yourself spending the rest of your life with him. There were certain things about him that you tolerated, but you wanted your forever to be spent with someone who felt perfect for you. And he… didn’t.

Even though you knew he wasn’t who you’d spend your life with, it stung just the same to receive his messages. 

loser: hey y/n… i’ve been thinking about this for a while now but i think it’s time for us to part ways. 

loser: we’ve had a good run, but i’m just not really feeling it anymore. i hope you understand. 

loser: wish you the best. xx 

You’d changed his contact and blocked his number immediately, saving yourself from the hurtful words he’d throw your way if you tried to ask for any reasoning or clarification. He always turned into a different person the moment you tried to express your emotions. 

“She’s just a coworker, y/n, stop being crazy. You don’t have to worry about her.” 

You push his words out of your brain again before they take over. So what if he left you for her? They probably deserve each other. You knew you were better off, that wasn’t the issue. It was that you settled for two years, letting this man who clearly didn’t respect you treat you like an afterthought the entire time. The more you think about it, the more you blame yourself for placing such little value on your own time and energy. 

You sit on your couch, your coffee table littered with tear-soaked tissues and instant ramen cups. You haven’t  left the house since you got The Texts last night, and you've watched a season of your favorite crime show and eaten your body weight in Buldak since then. You know you can’t sit here and wallow anymore or you’ll start to lose your mind, so you drag yourself to the bathroom to assess the damage. Eyes red and puffy from crying, hair tangled and tied loosely in a scrunchie, tear drops lingering on the same sweatshirt you’d been wearing for the last 24 hours. You look like hell. 

“I need to get out of this apartment,” you say to yourself. You pull out your phone and send a quick text to your best friend before hopping in the shower. After washing your hair 3 times, shaving your legs, and exfoliating the sadness away, you’re finally starting to feel human again. You wrap yourself in your favorite towel before checking your phone again. 

y/n: yunnie… are you free tonight? 

yunho: for you? absolutely. you ok? haven’t heard from you all day.

Of course he’d notice you going MIA for a day. You and your best friend texted every single day, sending quick little updates or funny videos. He’d probably been worried sick, but he never wants to pry. He’s always respected your space like that. 

y/n: long story. i’ll explain later. 

y/n: meet me in front of blossom in 30? 

Blossom was the cafe you and Yunho met working at. You were both burning the candle at both ends working nearly full time as baristas during your senior year of college. Your closing shifts together kept you sane during finals, blasting music and sharing your life stories while you cleaned up the shop. He’d even walk you home, after every closing shift, never wanting to let you walk alone so late. You both gave your two weeks notice right after graduation, but promised each other you’d make up for all the time you wouldn’t spend working together anymore. 

That was four years ago, and he’d been such a stable presence in your life since then. You’d grown closer over the years, spending countless movie nights and BBQ dates together. He knew everything about you (after a movie night with too much wine and lots of oversharing) and hadn’t gone running for the hills, so you knew he really cared. You didn’t really have time to make friends in college because you were either working, in class, or studying, so he was really all you had. He was your safe space. You both stayed close by after graduation, staying in your apartments in the city 2 blocks from the cafe on either side. It was nice having your best friend so close by, and the cafe remained a staple in your friendship as a middle point between your two homes. In your reminiscing, you realize you missed your Saturday morning coffee date with him. 

yunho: of course, bean. i missed you this morning. 

Your heart fluttered in your chest at the nickname. It always does. That, and when he calls you sweetheart. Your heart almost came up your throat the first time he pulled that one. Yunho started calling you bean after you spilled an entire bag of light roast on the cafe floor trying to refill the hopper for the openers. He’ll never let you live that one down. You remembered giggling and scooping coffee beans off the floor on your hands and knees together, his hand brushing over yours when you both reached for the dustpan, your eyes meeting, breath quickening… 

You shake the memory from your brain, coming back to reality just as you both had snapped out of it in the moment four years ago, scattering to finish cleaning up and avoiding eye contact the rest of the night. You always dismissed the electricity you felt when his skin touched yours, blaming the exhaustion from working a closing shift after being up all night studying. He had a girlfriend at the time, he wouldn’t have been interested in you that way anyway. He’s your friend, y/n, be realistic. You’re reaching. You send another quick text before getting dressed, and he of course responds right away. 

y/n: i missed you too, i’m sorry i should’ve texted. it’s been a shitty 24 hours. i’ll see you soon 

yunho: no need to apologize. i’ll be there, see you in a bit. 

25 minutes pass and you somehow manage to make yourself look somewhat presentable. You dried your hair and pulled half of it up in a claw clip, leaving some pieces out to frame your face. You threw on some concealer and a bit of blush, trying to hide how puffy your eyes still were. It was a chilly fall night, so you opted for your favorite pair of light wash jeans and an oversized black sweater, accompanied by your beat up black chelsea boots and your gray wool coat. 

After a quick 5 minute walk you round the corner to see Yunho standing in front of the cafe, his back facing you. Of course he’s right on time. His broad shoulders fill out the black jacket he’s wearing, his crossbody bag tucked under his arm. The neon sign in the cafe window leaves a purple hue reflecting off his freshly dyed dark gray hair. He turns his head at a car passing by, and you catch yourself smiling at the lost puppy look in his eyes. He must’ve seen you approaching in his peripheral, his head snapping in your direction. A subtle smile plays on his lips as he locks eyes with you. His warm brown eyes are full of an emotion you can’t quite name. 

Your chest aches at the realization that your ex, in the two years you were together, never looked at you like that. Why did you ever think you were important to him? Your throat suddenly tightens and your vision starts to blur, tears welling in your eyes for the millionth time today. Yunho’s smile drops, his brow furrowing as he takes two long strides to meet you. 

“Y/n, what is it, what happened?” He reaches for your shoulders to hold you steady, but you push forward to bury your face in his chest. He wraps his arms around you without hesitation, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other snakes around your shoulders. Your hands find his waist, gripping his shirt underneath his jacket. His familiar scent of jasmine envelops you, and you realize how badly you needed your best friend to help you through this.

”H-He dumped me,” you sniffle, letting out a shaky breath into Yunho’s chest, “he d-dumped me yesterday, through a fucking t-text message,”  another unsteady exhale as you try to level your breathing. 

“He did what?!” He pulls you in closer to him, the disbelief lacing his tone reassuring how rational your feelings are.

“It’s over,” you blink away your tears, tilting your head back to look up at your best friend. You’ve never seen the expression on his face before, like anger and worry are battling it out in his brain, and he can’t decide which one should take center stage first. “He texted me last night, saying he ‘wasn’t feeling it anymore’ and he ‘wished me the best,’” your mocking tone repeating his words reignited the angry flame in your chest. 

“Wished you the best,” he scoffs, “is he kidding?” He rolls his eyes.  “That’s how you end a two-year-long relationship?” He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, taking a half step back to give you some more space to catch your breath.  

“I can’t believe I wasted two years of my life with someone who just kicked me to the curb without a second thought,” you pinch the fabric of his shirt between your fingers, your eyes lingering on his collarbone peeking out from his slightly unbuttoned shirt. “I’m convinced he left me for a coworker, the one he told me not to worry about.” A humorless laugh leaves your lips, the burning feeling behind your eyes returning as more tears come. “I’m more upset with myself for letting him treat me like this for so long,”

“Hey, look at me,” Yunho cautiously brings his hands to your face, cradling your head gently. You lean into his touch, dragging your gaze up to meet his.

“He doesn’t know what he just threw away, sweetheart,” Yunho holds your teary cheeks in his hands. “You are the most beautiful creature this world has ever seen, and if he doesn’t see that, he doesn’t deserve you.”

“You think I’m beautiful?” You choke out between sniffles. 

“Oh y/n… of course I do. I always have,” he wipes a tear from your cheek before it reaches your lips, “since the day I met you.” 

Your breath catches in your throat at his admission, your chin wobbling as you try to hold it together. 

His eyes search yours, that unspoken emotion taking over his features again. You almost catch the moment he shakes it away, reminding himself that he’s here to support you. His hands fall from your cheeks to grab your hands instead, that familiar electricity prickling your skin as he rubs his thumbs over your knuckles. 

“Do you wanna go inside? I called ahead and ordered you a maple latte and a raspberry scone as soon as I got your text.” He tilts his head in the direction of the cafe next to you. 

You look inside to see two to-go cups and a brown paper bag sitting on the counter. “And an iced caramel latte for you, I’m assuming,” you poke his stomach teasingly, “thank you, Yun, you didn’t have to do that.” 

“Of course I did,” he gently squeezes your hands, a warm smile taking over his features. “Come on, it seems like we have a lot to catch up on. I have a feeling you have a lot to get off your chest.” He lets go of one hand, keeping hold of the other to walk you to the door. You lace your fingers through his, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world. 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

You’d spent the last hour sitting in your favorite booth with Yunho, hashing through every single thing you hated about your ex. He was appalled by the things you’d told him, wishing he knew sooner so he could’ve tried to help you see you deserve someone better. Someone who valued your emotions, understood your needs, respected your boundaries… Someone like — 

“Yunho, are you with me?” Your voice shakes him out of his daze, bringing him back to the conversation.

“Sorry bean, I just can’t believe he was such an asshole behind closed doors,” he recovers, “I wish you told me sooner. I feel like I wasn’t there for you when I should’ve been.”

”It’s not your fault, I could’ve told you and I didn’t. I think I was in denial,” you scoff. ”I was settling and I knew it, I was just trying to pretend things were better, but I think I’d been checked out for a while.” You swirl your coffee around in your cup, avoiding the concerned look in his eye. If you looked at him too long, you’d risk reading something deeper in the way he cares about you, something that made your heart flutter and ache all at once.

”Y/n, do you remember the girl I was dating when we met?” His tone shifts, a slight vulnerability creeping in. You stop moving your cup, watching the drink settle. You nod hesitantly, still avoiding his eyes. 

Of course you remember her. You had developed a crush on Yunho in your first week working together, but you had to smother it at the first mention of her. Any hope you had left for a chance with him disintegrated the first time you saw her — she was the kind of beautiful you only saw on TV. Flawless skin, no split ends, a perfectly sculpted body. Even her voice was smooth. She seemed perfect for him. 

“She cheated on me.” 

Your head snaps up to him in disbelief. “Excuse me?” 

You remember him telling you they broke up in passing — it had been a month after you started a relationship of your own. Part of you always wondered if you had just missed your window to pursue something with Yunho, but you pushed that thought out of your head so you could be present for your best friend. He didn’t want to go into detail about the breakup at the time, and he never did in the two years that followed. 

“For the last six months of our relationship, she’d been sleeping with someone she reconnected with from high school. They realized they loved each other, and she ended things.” He offers a sad smile, but the bitterness lingers beneath the surface. You feel a tightness in your chest wondering why he didn’t want to share his pain with you while all of this was going on.  

”Oh, Yunnie,” you reach for his hand across the table, holding his large palm in yours. “I’m so sorry. I don’t understand how anyone could ever do that to you. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Maybe we can call it even?” He lets out a breathy laugh, ignoring your question. “You didn’t tell me your relationship troubles, I didn’t tell you mine. Now it’s all on the table and we can leave it in the past.” He squeezes your hand, waiting for your response. 

“Fine.” You flash a tight lipped smile, wanting to hash this open again with him at a later time. You didn’t keep secrets from each other, so why was he avoiding getting into this with you? 

“Well, it’s almost closing time.” Of course he’s gonna change the subject. “Do you need a night alone or are you coming home with me tonight?” He forces a smile from across the table, and you could’ve sworn his ears turned the slightest bit red asking you to spend the night. Sleepovers weren’t out of the norm for the two of you, but this proposal felt different for some reason. 

“I think if I’m alone at my place tonight I’ll revert to the sad couch potato I was before I texted you earlier.” You don’t really believe that, feeling like you’ve moved past the depression stage of grief and slowly inching toward acceptance. But you still wanted the company. 

“I’d love to come home with you, Yunnie.”

“Then let’s go, sweetheart.” 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Your neighborhood was so beautiful at night. The soft streetlights cast a gentle glow on the sidewalk, illuminating little puddles of water from last night’s rain. The fall air feels cool and crisp, carrying the faint smell of the changing leaves. This late at night, the stillness is calming… usually. 

You two had found this to be the perfect environment to have your deepest talks. Taking regular nighttime walks with Yunho had become one of your cherished rituals, especially when one of you needed to get something off your chest. You’d shared fragments of your lives, from your family drama to his frequent arguments with a stubborn coworker at his new job. But tonight, a suffocating silence swirls around you. 

You’d taken a full lap around the neighborhood in silence since leaving Blossom, the familiar path devoid of your usual chatter. As you approach Yunho’s place, his brisk pace and hands shoved deep in his pockets told you he wasn’t going to be the one to acknowledge it. He was never one for confrontation. If he wouldn’t tell you what’s going on voluntarily, you’d have to coax it out of him.   

You stop walking, the cool air feeling sharper on your skin. He takes three more strides before he stops too, spinning back around to face you, confusion etched on his devastatingly handsome features.

“You okay, bean?” he asks, tilting his head at you, genuine concern flickering in his eyes. 

“I feel like I should be asking you the same thing,” you reply, barely above a whisper. Maybe you weren’t one for confrontation either. 

He takes a step closer to you, “I’m fine,” he says with a quick shrug and a slight shake of his head. 

“Then why haven’t you spoken to me since we left Blossom? Did I say something to upset you?” You try your hardest to grab your frustration before it bubbles up, but you can already tell it’s too late. His dismissive tone, both here and at the cafe, gnaws at you. It triggers something inside of you from your recently ended relationship, and you feel on the verge of either shutting down or letting your emotions spiral.  

“I just thought you might want a quiet walk is all.” He can barely look you in the eye, and that’s when you know something is very wrong. 

“Come on Yun, you know that’s not what’s going on. Something is bothering you.” The frustration claws higher and higher, an unwelcome tightness gripping at your chest. Don’t cry, y/n.

He opens his mouth, the words hanging on the tip of his tongue, but stops himself, his hands finally pulling from his pockets to rest on his hips. He stares at a fallen leaf swirling in a puddle between you. 

“Is it because we talked about your ex?” He winces just a little at your words. “I didn’t mean to open old wounds, I just thought after everything we’ve shared with each other that you’d want to talk to me about it.” You don’t mean for your words to sound accusatory, but based on the way his body tenses, you realize they must have. 

“It’s not that, y/n, it’s not about…” his voice trails off into a sigh. His eyes search yours, his mind racing trying to decide if he wants to get into what’s really going on, what he’s been keeping inside for so long. 

“Then what is it?” You’re grasping at straws, desperately trying to get him to give you anything to go off of. When you’re met with more silence and an indiscernible look in his eyes, you push forward.

“I just don’t get why you wouldn’t tell me she cheated on you Yun, we help each other through everything.” Anger wells up in you, more at yourself for not asking him to open up to you about it at the time. 

“Y/n, please, it’s more complicated than just her cheating, and I just don’t know if now is the best time to get into it, you’re still—”

“Still what, Yunho? Grieving my own relationship? Just because I just got dumped doesn’t mean I can’t be here for you!” Your voice rises, each word sharp, the tension in your throat threatening to break. “You don’t get to decide what I can and can’t handle, that’s not up to you—”

“Fine,” he interrupts, “do you wanna know the real reason I didn’t tell you, y/n? Is that what you want?” His ears redden, and you can’t tell if he’s angry, embarrassed, or a combination of the two. You nod hesitantly. “I didn’t tell you she cheated because I didn’t care, okay? I didn’t care. Her heart wasn’t in it anymore, but neither was mine.” His chest heaves, squeezing his eyes shut tight for a brief moment to brace himself. 

“I didn’t care that she cheated, because I didn’t want her anyway.” He lets out a shaky breath. “I wanted you.” 

Oh. 

Oh. 

His eyes burn into yours as his words hang in the air between the two of you. 

“Yunho…” You take a step toward him only for him to take a step back. Your heart is pounding so hard in your chest, you wonder if he can hear it. What is happening right now?

“I’m sorry y/n, I can’t keep it to myself anymore. I’ve held it in for so long, and I just can’t do it anymore, I—” He stutters over his words, “I wasn’t grieving my relationship, I was grieving yours. You found someone just before she ended things with me, and I realized maybe you and I weren’t meant to be. That we’d never have the chance to try.” His eyes gloss over with pent up emotion, thinking about all the time he spent wondering what could’ve been. “I wanted you, but I had to act like I didn’t, and we were becoming such good friends, I didn’t want to ruin it, I just—” 

”Did you think I didn’t feel the same?” You interrupt him. “That I don’t feel the same now?” 

He tilts his head at you, the tension in his body visibly disintegrating. “What are you saying?” Brows furrowing, cheeks blushing, so many emotions flying through his features at a speed neither of you can process. He runs his hands down his face before resting them on his hips. “Sweetheart, what are you saying?” 

“I wanted you, too, Yun…” The words tumble out of you, a rush of honesty that feels both exhilarating and terrifying. “I want you too.”

He takes another step toward you, his mind racing as he searches for answers to never ending questions. “You did?” Another step. “You do?” 

“Yes, and yes,” you nod, feeling warmth flood your cheeks at your admission—both to Yunho and to you. You realize you’d never said it out loud before, not even to yourself. 

“Say it again,” he urges, closing the gap between the two of you. One hand finds your waist while the other gently cradles the back of your neck. His touch lights a fire on your skin, his hands feeling heavier on your body than they ever have before. Your hands find their way to his waist, tugging him closer to you. Chests heaving, hearts racing.

“I want you, Yunho.”  

The tension between you peaks, your grip tightening on one another, like if either one of you lets go, the moment will slip away. Yunho’s eyes search yours, looking for confirmation. 

He gently cups your face, his thumb brushing your cheek, wiping away the remnants of your tears. His touch sends a shiver down your spine, igniting the familiar spark that had always lingered between the two of you. Your breath hitches in your throat, caught between the fear of moving too fast and the undeniable pull you have always felt towards him. 

You bring a hand up to his cheek, your fingers gliding over his skin, feeling the warmth radiating from him. You linger for a moment before wrapping your fingers around the back of his neck, pulling him closer to you. 

“Y/n,” he whispers, “sweetheart,”  his gaze drops to your lips, and you swear you can hear your hearts beating in time with one another in the quiet. 

You take a deep breath, searching his gaze for the same spark of desire you feel coursing through your body. He inches closer, breath mingling with yours, heating the space between you.

“Is this okay?” he asks softly, his voice trembling slightly. 

You nod, breathless, as you lean in just enough to finally close the distance between the two of you. 

The tip of his nose brushes against yours, the contact making your head spin. You’ve thought about this moment countless times, and being here feels so right.

“Yunho,” you breathe, “please kiss me alr—“

His mouth molds to yours before you can finish your sentence, pulling all the remaining air from your lungs. The world around you explodes in a flash of warmth and tenderness, all the hurt you had been feeling melting away into a puddle at your feet.

You feel a rush of emotions— relief, joy, and a deep, intoxicating desire— as he deepens the kiss. Your hands tighten around the back of his neck, pulling him closer as he sweeps his tongue across your bottom lip. You lose yourself in the sensation, the taste of him and the feeling of his lips on yours erasing everything else you’ve ever felt. 

His fingers tangle in your hair, holding you as if you might disappear. This moment, this kiss, feels like a declaration— a culmination of all the unspoken words, the hidden glances, the years of longing between the two of you. It’s exhilarating.

He finally pulls away, resting his forehead against yours, your heavy breaths the only sounds on the quiet street. Your hands slide from his neck, traveling down his chest before settling on his waist. 

“Sorry sweetheart, I didn’t mean to cut you off,” he chuckles, brushing a strand of hair from your face, “I’ve just been waiting a really long time to do that.” He drops a gentle kiss to your forehead before wrapping his arms around you to pull you close. 

“You can cut me off anytime if it means I get to kiss you,” you nuzzle into his chest. The steady thud of his heartbeat slows yours to match. 

“Oh yeah?” He looks down at you, a teasing glint in his eyes. 

“Yes, abso—“

His lips connect to yours again, a fire igniting in your belly when his tongue tangles with yours. He tastes like caramel, the sweetness of his latte lingering on his tongue. Wide hands wrap around your hips, dragging you closer, rolling your body into him. 

You snake your hands up his lower back, digging your nails into his skin through his shirt. A low groan rumbles deep in Yunho’s throat at the sensation, sending a bolt of heat straight to your core. A whimper crawls up your throat before you can stop it, and Yunho smiles against your mouth. He draws your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down gently. 

“Your lips are even softer than I imagined they’d be,” he gives you one more lingering kiss before pulling back. His deep eyes find yours, his blushed cheeks glowing under the streetlights. 

“You’ve imagined kissing me?” Shyness creeps in at the realization that Yunho thought about you in the same way you thought about him. 

“Among other things, yes,” he brushes your hair out of your face, his palm settling to cup your cheek. “You’re cute when you blush.” 

“I am not blushing!” You hide your face in your hands. “Maybe I am, but how can I not when you talk to me like that,” you muffle into your palms. 

“I’ll talk to you any way you want if it means you’ll react like this,” he teases, gently pulling your hands from your face to hold them in his. “Your hands are freezing, sweetheart,” he brings your hands to his mouth, holding them between his and blowing his hot breath onto them to warm them up.

”Well we have been out here a while,” you shiver at the feeling of his breath on your skin. 

“Am I still allowed to take you home tonight, or would that complicate things?” He’s either nervous, or hesitant. Either would make sense, you just got dumped and 24 hours later you’re confessing your feelings for your best friend (and kissing him). Anyone with a brain might wonder if you’re rushing, or worse, rebounding. Once you get out of this cold, you can talk things through. 

“Yes, please, let’s go.” You take his hand in yours, kissing his knuckles before pulling him in the direction of his place.

“You got it, baby.” He slings an arm over your shoulder, planting a kiss to the top of your head. Your heart flutters as you walk toward his apartment. 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

As soon as you walk through Yunho’s front door, he breezes past you to grab two wine glasses and a bottle of your favorite rosé while you kick off your boots. As you shed your jacket, he sets two full glasses on his simple wooden coffee table, heading back to his kitchen to grab a bag of chips and some chocolates. He returns with his hands full, confusion lacing his features when he finds you standing in the middle of his living room stifling a laugh. 

“Is something funny?�� He chuckles at your reddening cheeks as you let out a giggle. 

“When did you get so nervous to have me in your apartment?” Part of you feels bad for teasing, but he looks so cute when he’s flustered, you can’t help it. “I’ve never seen you move so fast to get me a glass of wine.” 

“Well, when you decide to tell me you want me in the middle of the street, that tends to change things, baby,” he grins at you, clocking you for the second time now having a physical reaction to his newest pet name for you. You thought sweetheart sounded beautiful coming out of his mouth, but baby is a whole new level of intoxicating.

”You said it first, but I guess that does change things, huh, baby?” You cross your arms, challenging him. “Do I make you nervous, Jeong Yunho?” 

“You make me a lot of things, sweetheart, but nervous isn’t one of them.” He pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue, the gesture making your head spin. After setting your snacks down on the coffee table, he finally takes off his jacket and kicks off his shoes. He plops down on his couch, patting the empty cushion next to him. “Come sit with me,” the deep, inviting tone of his voice has you moving to him immediately. Grabbing your wine, you sit next to him, folding one leg up onto the couch to turn to face him. He copies your position, his knee resting just an inch from yours. 

“What do I make you feel, then?” You swirl your wine in your glass as your gaze flicks over his handsome features. Landing on his eyes, your heart jumps at the way they shine for you. 

“Fulfilled,” he starts, scooting closer to you so your knees are just barely touching. “Cared for, understood,” the corner of his mouth quirks up slightly, “and loved.” 

A bloom of warmth floods your chest at the word. This is what you’ve been missing the last few years. You thought your ex would give you this sense of gratification if you gave him more time, but what you were searching for was in your best friend. You always knew in the back of your mind that it was him. The one who held you when you cried, who made you laugh until your stomach hurt, who would drop everything to be there when you needed him. You take a big sip of your wine. 

“I was settling,” the words fall off your lips before you can stop them, the alcohol warming your cheeks right away. “I thought that if I kept giving him everything he would eventually give me half of what I was craving, but in the back of my mind I think I knew he’d never be what I really needed… I settled for him.” 

Yunho offers a soft nod, zero judgment, only understanding. “And what is it you were craving?” He moves even closer to you, your shins now pressed together. 

“You,” you sigh, his deep eyes boring into yours, waiting for more. You tap your fingers on your wine glass, contemplating your next words. “The connection, the comfort, the joy, the love that you gave me,” your throat tightens thinking about the nights you spent longing for your best friend. “I wanted you, how you made me feel…but I settled for him.” 

“Right person, wrong time,” Yunho scoffs, a gentle shake of his head, “kind of applies to us, right? We’ve wanted each other for years now, but we just never had the chance.”

“I should’ve told you sooner, Yun,” your hand rests on his, his fingers immediately lacing between yours. “We’ve wasted so much time,” hot tears blur your vision, but you blink them away before they fall.

“Hey, we have all the time in the world, baby,” he brings your hand to his mouth, planting a gentle kiss on your knuckles. “All the time in the world,” he muffles against your skin. You turn your palm to hold his cheek, and you notice his eyes roll back before they flutter closed.

“All the time in the world,” you repeat, threading your fingers into his hair. A future with Yunho flashes through your mind. Lazy Sunday mornings, celebrating milestones and holidays together, late nights tangled in the sheets, his body taking over yours — 

“Y/n…” His deep, smooth voice brings you back to the moment, the sound of your name on his lips heating your cheeks. 

“Hm?” 

He gently takes your wine glass from your hand, setting it on the coffee table next to his untouched one. When his eyes find yours again, warmth pools in your belly at the darkness that’s taken over his features. “I really want to kiss you again, but I feel like we should talk first,” he takes both your hands in his, and your heart pounds a beat faster in your chest. “If you spend the night tonight, there’s no going back. Once I have you, I don’t think I can let you go.” 

“I don’t want you to let me go, Yun,” you squeeze his hands in yours. “I’ve waited too long to get here, I don’t wanna go back… You already have me, don’t let me go.” The thudding in your rib cage intensifies with every second of heated silence.

“I couldn’t if I tried,” he finally says, pulling you in, crashing his lips into yours. His hands find your waist, his tongue exploring your mouth, and you wrap your arms around his neck as he pulls you into his lap. You straddle him, resting your knees on either side of his hips, deepening the kiss as his hands wander to cup your ass, pulling you closer to him. You roll your hips against him, his grip tightening on you as he drags your body over him. A groan rumbles in his chest and you feel his cock stiffening beneath you, grinding on him slower and harder. 

“I can’t believe you’re finally mine,” Yuhho’s hand snakes up your back and into your hair, gently removing your clip and tossing it to the floor before gripping your locks and tilting your head to the side, exposing the sensitive column of your neck to his mouth. He nips at your skin, licking the spot with his tongue, moving up to the tender spot under your ear. “My beautiful girl,” his hot breath in your ear has your entire body blooming with goosebumps.

”Yunho,” you roll your hips over him again as his lips travel down your neck to your collarbone, a whimper crawling up your throat at your rough jeans catching on your swelling clit. He feels harder and harder underneath you with each rock against him, and you’re cursing yourself for wearing such thick pants. You just want to feel him. 

“Yes, sweetheart?” He tightens his grip on your hair, kissing back up your neck until his lips connect with yours again. You moan into his mouth as his other hand guides your hips back and forth, shamelessly grinding your bodies against each other like horny teenagers. 

“Touch me please,” you beg, catching his bottom lip between your teeth, sucking on it gently. 

“Only because you asked so nicely,” he teases. He snakes an arm around your waist and smoothly rolls you onto your back, laying you down in the soft cushions. He kneels, settling between your legs, spreading them wide to roll his hips into your needy clothed core. His mouth finds yours again, tangling his tongue with yours.

The hand in your hair loosens, trailing down your body, ghosting over your breasts, down your belly, and lifting your sweater slightly to get to your jeans. He makes light work of the button and zipper, his nimble fingers undoing the fastenings with ease, all while keeping his mouth on yours. You feel him tapping on your ass, signaling you to lift your hips. When you do, he shimmies your jeans down your legs agonizingly slowly, breaking the kiss to admire the bits of your skin he’s dreamt about for years. 

He tosses your jeans on his living room floor, and a timidity slithers up at the realization that you’re in your underwear on your best friend’s couch.  His broad hands rest on your thighs, letting you close them slightly, your shared shuddering breaths the only sound in his quiet apartment. 

“Getting shy on me, sweetheart?” He teases you, reading your mind. He knows you so well. You giggle as he slides his hands to your sweater, dragging it up your body, exposing your panties, shifting it higher and higher until the bottom hem of your bra is barely showing. He slides his hands under your top, expertly cradling your bra-clad breasts in his hands, letting out a restrained groan. The energy shifts and you whimper, watching his eyes locked on the way his fingers swim beneath the fabric of your sweater. You let your legs fall open slightly as Yunho slots himself between them, peppering your belly with gentle kisses and thumbing one of your pebbling nipples through the thin material of your bra. 

“Yun…” you sigh, running your fingers through his hair as he kisses you lower and lower, “please,” 

“Mhm,” he nods against your soft skin, shifting down to lay on his belly between your legs, hooking your knees over his shoulders. You feel his searing breath over your pussy, cooling the growing wet patch in your panties, making you clench around nothing. He picks up on your reaction, gripping your hips before blowing a steady stream of air over your sensitive heat. 

“Oh,” you breathe, wriggling under his strong grasp, spreading your legs wider for him. 

“You’re so reactive,” he murmurs, biting down on your inner thigh, soothing the spot with his tongue. You yelp at the sensation, covering your mouth in shock of the sound that just came out of you. Yunho chuckles darkly, “don’t hold back, baby, I wanna hear all the noises you make.” 

He hooks an arm over your hip so his hand rests on your mound. He grips your panties in his fist, pulling them up until the fabric slips between your wet folds, gliding firmly over your clit. You stifle a sob as he tugs them harder, biting you once more. 

“I thought I told you not to hold back, sweetheart,” he licks your skin again, soothing the angry bite mark that will surely be bruised by morning. Another tug of your panties has you mewling, one hand gripping his hair for dear life, the other blindly searching for anything to ground you. 

“Yunnie, please, stop teasing me,” you never thought your sweet and wholesome best friend could have you whimpering and begging beneath him, hardly having touched you. He has such a dark, dominating presence about him in this moment, and it’s making your head fuzzy. 

He lets go of your panties, swiftly pulling them to the side, exposing your wet heat to the cool air. You suck in a sharp inhale, finally bare to him.

“Fuck,” he moans, “look at you, baby,” he runs two fingers through your heat, the sudden contact making you cry out. He spreads you wide to see every inch of you, taking his time. “So pretty,” he breathes. 

“I need you, please,” you whine, “are you gonna make me keep begging?” 

“Baby, I’ve wanted to touch you like this for years,” he drawls, “let me savor it a little.” Before you can protest, he teases your entrance with two fingers, slowly thrusting them deeper and deeper inside you, little by little, until his palm is flush with your cunt. Your head falls back into the cushions, your chest heaving. You had daydreamed about how his fingers would feel inside of you, but nothing compares to the real thing. He pumps in and out a few more times before he curls his fingers, hitting the spot that makes your back arch. You grip his hair, tugging on it harder than you mean to, but you can’t help it. You miss the way his eyes roll back, his mouth hanging open at the pain. 

Yunho lets you guide his mouth to your core, his fingers keeping a steady pace as he uses his free hand to spread you open, swirling his tongue around your clit. 

“Yunnie…” you whimper, grinding your hips on his mouth. He nods against you, sucking your clit into his mouth, rolling his tongue over the swollen bud over and over in time with his fingers moving in and out of you. Pleasure blooms in your belly as he works you, each flick of his tongue bringing you closer to the edge. 

“Feeling good, sweetheart?” He replaces his tongue with his thumb, circling your clit softly to ease you into the sensation. You push yourself down into his hand, needing more. He chuckles, applying more pressure until he feels you melting under him.

“Yes, so good Yun, fuck,” the pressure low in your belly builds rapidly, and you know if he keeps going at this pace, you’ll fall apart in no time. You prop yourself up on your elbows to look at him, and once your eyes lock with his you know you’re a goner. 

His hair is mussed from your tugging on it, his cheeks flushed, his mouth glistening, a bead of sweat dripping down his temple as he picks up the pace ever so slightly. He smirks at you, letting your legs fall from his shoulders so he can kneel between them again, sitting back to get a good look at you, never slowing his ministrations. You make the mistake of glancing down, your mouth drying at the sight of his cock pressing against the confines of his jeans. He hits that spot deep inside you again, and you fall back into the cushions, breathy curses falling from your mouth over and over. 

“You look so beautiful like this, fucking hell,” he drops his free hand next to your head, caging you in beneath him, watching his fingers pistoning in and out of you faster and faster, circling your clit in a matching pace. “Mine, mine, mine,” he repeats over and over, like he can’t believe this is finally happening. He brings his lips to yours, mumbling the words against your mouth as you nod wordlessly in agreement, the taste of yourself on his tongue making you dizzy. He kisses you down to your neck, nipping at your sensitive skin, praise after praise whispered into your ear. 

“Tell me you’re mine,” he emphasizes his words with a sharp thrust of his fingers, and you cry out at the sensation. 

“I’m yours, I’m yours— fuck!” You feel the cord in your belly tightening and tightening. 

“Good fucking girl,” he whispers in your ear, nipping at your earlobe, “come around my fingers, baby,” 

“Oh, oh,” you shudder underneath him, his words pushing you over the edge as your orgasm rips through your body, pleasure burning from the inside out. He kisses you hard, slowing his pace bit by bit to ease you through your climax, your body trembling in his hold. “Yunho,” you mumble into his mouth, “I’m yours,” you whisper.

“You sure are,” he peppers your cheeks with soft, tender kisses, your brain slowly coming back online as he slows his fingers, coming to a stop. “And I’m yours,” he kisses you gently, easing his fingers out of you, slipping your panties back into place. He lays down on the couch next to you, pulling your favorite throw blanket over your exposed bottom half, tracing hearts and stars on your skin while your breathing steadies, running his fingers through your hair as you let your eyes flutter closed. You snuggle into him, the warmth of his body keeping the flame in your core burning. 

“You are incredible, Jeong Yunho,” you giggle as he kisses every inch of your face, his soft lips mapping the details of your skin. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him. 

“Why, because I made you come in 5 minutes flat?” His low drawl has desire coursing through your veins, part of you feeling embarrassed he can turn you on so easily with just his words. 

Your breath hitches as you nod, trying to keep your cool, but he knows you better than that by now. “You really like when I talk to you like this, don’t you, baby?” 

“Apparently I do,” you turn to look at him, a teasing glint in his eyes, his fingers dancing across the bare skin of your belly. “I’d love to hear what else you have to say,” you tease. 

“Well for starters, I want to take you to bed” His mouth hovers over the shell of your ear, the combination of his hot breath fanning over your skin and the vibrations of his deep voice have lust taking over your thoughts once again. “I want to fuck you properly, and we just don’t exactly have the space for that here,” you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Oh,” you giggle, his straightforwardness taking you by surprise. Just like that you’re throbbing for him again, your mind racing thinking about where your night with him is going to go. “I’d like that.”

Before he can catch you, you jump up from the couch, leaving your throw blanket behind, beelining for the hallway toward Yunho’s bedroom, giggling the whole way.

“Hey!” He laughs, clamoring up to chase after you. A few long strides and he’s caught up to you, right in the doorway of his bedroom. He hooks an arm around your waist and you yelp as he spins you around to face him, the momentum of both your running carrying you to the foot of his bed. The backs of your knees hit the mattress, but he holds you upright, pressing your body against his. Your eyes lock, both of you breathing heavily.

“Someone’s excited,” Yunho chuckles, giving you a firm kiss before pushing you back onto his bed. You let out a breathless laugh as you plop down on the mattress, pushing yourself to sit upright.  

“A little,” your hands find his torso, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. He smirks down at you as you run your hands under his shirt and up his stomach to chest. He lets out a shaky breath at the feeling of your hands on him, and pulls his shirt off over his head, discarding it on the floor. You’d seen him without a shirt a handful of times, but this close he looks ethereal. Your fingers dance across his bare skin, reveling in the feeling of being able to touch him like this. You want to see more of him, touch more of him, taste more of him. 

“Yun,” you start, hesitant to take the lead. You slide your hands down his body until your fingers feel the smooth leather of his belt. Your eyes meet his, not breaking contact while you smoothly undo his belt buckle. “Can I?” You whisper. 

“You can do whatever you want to me, y/n,” he breathes, looking down to where your fingers are undoing the button of his jeans, sliding the zipper down slowly. You pull his jeans down, and he kicks them to the side, standing before you in only his boxers, his hard length pressing against the confines of the fabric.

His fingers lace through your hair, gripping it gently to tip your head back. Keeping your eyes on him, you slowly pull your sweater over your head, letting him let go of your hair to take it from your hands and toss it to the floor. You reach behind you, undoing the clasp of your bra, slowly sliding it from your body and dropping it next to your discarded sweater. Yunho’s chest heaves as he pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue, drinking this image of you in, dragging his gaze across your exposed chest.

“So beautiful,” his voice has dropped even lower, a tone you’ve never heard from him, the deep timbre stoking the fire deep inside you. “You are so beautiful,” he cups your face in his hands, bending over to kiss you softly. He parts your lips with his tongue as you rest your hands on his abdomen, sliding one down to palm his cock over his boxers. 

“Fuck,” he groans into your mouth, your fingers wrapping around him as much as you can through the fabric, stroking his impressive length as he licks deeper into your mouth. You pump him from base to tip, running your thumb over the wet patch at the head of his cock, drawing another guttural moan from his lips. Your mouth is watering at the feeling of him, but it’s not enough. 

You dip your fingers under the waistband of his boxers, and Yunho breaks the kiss to watch you pull them slowly down, down, down, until his cock springs free, hanging heavy in front of you. You absentmindedly lick your lips at the sight of him, feeling the wetness in your panties growing. Lust prickles across your skin thinking about feeling him inside of you. 

“Yunho,” you sigh, wrapping your fingers around him, pumping him slowly as he stands up straight, tugging your hair in his fist to tip your head back again. “I want you to fuck my throat,” you whine, “please,” 

“Oh, baby,” he grips your hair tighter at your words while you stroke him, the sting making your cheeks warm, “you want me to stuff your pretty little mouth? Wanna wrap those beautiful lips around me?” Towering over you like this, you start to realize just how much he could overpower you, and the thought spreads heat through your abdomen. 

“Please,” you nod, “I wanna taste you,” you open your mouth, sticking your tongue out for him, keeping your eyes on his. You pump his length twice more as you guide his hips toward your mouth, dropping your hands into your lap as his tip rests on your tongue. 

“Mmh, so pretty,” he whispers, wrapping his fist around his cock, tapping his tip on your tongue before sliding past your lips. “If it gets to be too much, just tap my thigh, okay sweetheart?” 

You nod, wrapping your lips around him, sliding your tongue over the sensitive underside of his tip. His head falls back, a beautiful moan falling from his lips as you slowly start to bob your head. You take more of him, inch by inch until his cock taps the back of your throat. You swallow around him, and he absentmindedly thrusts deeper, chasing the sensation. 

“Fuck,” he groans, his grip on your hair tightening again as he holds you there. “I’m gonna move now, is that okay?” He brings his free hand to your cheek, caressing it gently as you nod in confirmation. As soon as you give him the signal, he pulls back slightly, rocking his hips slowly, savoring the feeling of your lips wrapped around him and your tongue gliding over him. “So beautiful with your mouth stuffed so  full,” he praises you, thrusting deeper into your mouth, down your throat, testing the limits of what you can take. He finds a steady rhythm, and you match his pace, bobbing your head and licking over every inch of him as he pumps in and out of your mouth, the stretch burning your throat deliciously.

You can’t take your eyes off of him, tears blurring your vision as you admire his lustful features. His furrowed brow, his blown pupils, his flushed cheeks. The bead of sweat dripping down the tip of his nose, the tensing muscles in his stomach as he pumps into your mouth… he looks so beautiful. You find yourself rocking your hips, grinding into the mattress, looking for any friction you can get.

He thrusts deep into your mouth, his cock hitting the back of your throat again, and he holds you down on him, your nose brushing over his abdomen. The lack of air makes your head spin, and you want him even deeper. You reach up to grab his hips, but your hand bumps his thigh on the way up, which he takes as your signal that it’s too much. 

“Shit,” he pulls out of your mouth, and you gasp for air as he drops to his knees in front of you. “Are you okay, baby? I’m so sorry, was that too rough?” His eyes are full of panic and he brushes your hair out of your face, wiping the saliva that had bubbled up at the corners of your mouth. It all happens so fast, it takes you a moment to process the man waiting in front of you, waiting for a response. Before you can stop yourself, a smile breaks across your face and a giggle rises up your throat. 

“Yunnie,” you laugh, cradling his concerned face in your hands, “I’m fine, more than fine,” you try to catch your breath. “I was trying to…grab your hips to pull you closer, but I … bumped your leg by mistake,” his panicked face relaxes, a beautiful smile taking its place, and he lets out a deep sigh of relief. “I do appreciate how quickly you stopped though,” you tease him, your breathing finally steady, “it’s nice to know my boundaries will be taken very seriously.” 

“You scared me!” He laughs, dropping his head in your lap. 

“It was an accident!” You laugh with him, brushing through his hair with your fingers. “I actually wanted you to be more rough with me,” 

He straightens up. “Is that so?” He plants his hands on the mattress on either side of your hips, the darkness returning to his gaze as he stands again, leaning over you. You lean back onto your elbows as he towers over you, his eyes raking over every inch of your body. 

“It is,” you whisper, suddenly feeling so small beneath him, all lightheartedness suddenly sucked out of the room. “I would enjoy that very much,” 

“Mmh,” he hooks an arm under your waist, lifting you easily and moving your body further up the mattress. You let out a small yelp as he drops you, heart warming as he reaches above you to grab a pillow to prop under your head. Once he’s sure you’re comfortable, he hooks his fingers on your panties, and you lift your hips for him to peel them off of you. He tosses them to the floor, turning his attention back to you, spreading your legs wide open, kneeling between them.

“I would enjoy that too, however,” he runs his hands up your calves, your thighs, until he reaches your center, using both hands to spread you wide open. You watch in awe as he runs two fingers through your arousal, teasingly dipping them inside of you. “I want to savor every moment of this,” he dips down to kiss you softly as he drives his fingers even deeper, prodding that tender spot inside of you, drawing a whine from your lips. “Let me be gentle this time, let me show you how much I–” he pauses, something indiscernible flashing through his eyes. “Let me show you how much I’ve been wanting you,” he recovers. “Then next time,” his thumb flicks over your clit, “I will do whatever you want me to do to you,” he circles the sensitive bud, your mind reeling. “Does that sound good, baby?” 

“Mhm,” you nod, “so good,” you whimper as he scissors his fingers inside of you, surely trying to stretch you open for what’s to come. 

He reaches for the drawer in his nightstand with his free hand, but you stop him. “You don’t have to wear one,” you interrupt.

“Are you sure?” His fingers keep moving inside of you, stretching you wider with each thrust, but still giving your conversation his attention.

“I’m on the pill and was tested recently, so yes, please Yunnie, I want to feel you,” you mewl, “please let me feel you,”  

“So good for me,” he praises you over and over, “are you ready?” 

“Yes, please,” you whine when he pulls his fingers from your cunt, desperate for him. He lifts your hips, pulling you closer to him, nestling himself between your legs, being sure to adjust your pillow once more. He spreads you open with one hand, tapping the tip of his solid cock on your swollen clit before rubbing it up and down your slit, lining up with your entrance. You both freeze at the same time as the reality of what’s about to happen finally hits you.

The feeling of this moment is nothing you’ve experienced before. For years, you’ve longed for Yunho, wanting the intimacy of your friendship to go beyond just emotional intimacy. You’ve yearned for him as long as you’ve known him. You wanted him– all of him. Finally, the universe decided it’s time for you two to experience that. 

You realize he’s feeling it too, his hand finding your cheek in the silence, brushing away a tear that you didn’t realize had fallen down your cheek. “I know, baby,” he whispers, and that’s all you need to hear. 

He presses his lips to your forehead as he slowly pushes inside, easing you into the sensation, gently stretching you out on his cock. You feel grateful that he prepped you with his fingers, the sting you feel only lasting a few brief moments before he’s smoothly gliding into you. He pushes in deeper and deeper, until you’re filled to the brim. He drops his hands to the mattress on either side of your head as he bottoms out. Almost in unison, you both let out a shuddering exhale. 

“You feel incredible, fuck” he breathes against your forehead, finally pulling back to look into your eyes, your bodies finally connected physically in the way they’ve felt connected spiritually all these years. “And you look so pretty, my angel,” he whispers, his eyes shining. 

“I don’t know how you can still manage to make me blush when you’re literally inside of me,” you pant, shyly giggling as your cheeks warm under his loving gaze. He hisses at the way you squeeze around him when you laugh. “Sorry,” you cover your mouth with your hand to stifle your giggles. 

“I’m learning so much about you today,” he pulls hips back slightly before burying himself inside you again, all teasing coming to an instant halt as the tip of his cock presses against your g-spot. 

“Oh my–” your back arches at the feeling, “God Yunnie, I feel so f-full.” 

“You’re doing so well baby,” he praises you again, giving you a moment to adjust to his size. “Look at you, so beautiful taking my cock.” 

“I need you to fuck me,” you scramble to grip his forearms, feeling the taut muscles under his skin. “Please,” you wriggle your hips beneath him, “move,” 

“Mm,” he pulls out almost completely, just the tip of his cock resting inside of you, “say it again, sweetheart,” 

“Fuck me Yunnie, please,” you beg, trying to push your hips down on his cock. 

“God, I’ve waited so long to hear you say that, I’ll never get tired of it” he slams into you, and you cry out as he bottoms out inside of you again. He sets a steady pace, rolling his hips into you over and over, the feeling of him pumping in and out of you more delicious than you could’ve ever imagined. He kisses you hard, licking into your mouth, swallowing all of your pretty little moans. 

He cups one of your breasts in his wide palm, running his thumb over your nipple, stoking the fire in the pit of your belly. He straightens, admiring how beautiful you look while you take him. Your lips red and puffy, your eyes half lidded, your breasts bouncing with each thrust. 

“So pretty, taking me so well,” he praises you as his hand coasts up your chest, fingers gently wrapping around your neck. He holds his hand there for a moment, making a mental note of the way your eyes light up when he briefly squeezes the column of your throat. 

“F-feels so g-good,” you choke out between thrusts. His thumb slides along your jaw toward your chin, prodding at your bottom lip, coaxing your mouth open. You wrap your lips around his thumb, sucking on it briefly before he pops it out of your mouth, trailing it down your body until he reaches your clit. The contact has your head spinning, the cord in your center tightening and tightening as he flicks your sensitive bud. 

“Baby, look,” his voice cuts through the foggy lust in your head, grabbing your attention. He nods down to where your bodies are connected, gesturing for you to take a glance. 

One look at him splitting you open has your climax threatening to wash over you, warmth running up and down your spine at the sight of your arousal shining on his cock as he pistons in and out of your heat relentlessly. He swirls his thumb around your clit faster at the feeling of you squeezing around him.

“You close, sweetheart?” He’s breathless as he fucks you, hitting so deep inside you that you can feel it in your stomach. 

“Mhm, fuck, yes,” you cry out, scrambling for his free hand, lacing your fingers between his. 

“Come on, I want to watch you fall apart around my cock.” He’s fucking you impossibly hard, each thrust hitting just right, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. “Let me feel you, love,” 

“Oh my god,” you stammer out a string of curses as your second orgasm washes over you, your heart thudding in your ears as your body tenses underneath him. He barely slows his pace, keeping his thumb resting on your clit, fucking you through your high. 

“There she is,” he coos, slowing little by little until your body starts to relax. He thrusts all the way inside, bottoming out, collapsing over you. 

“Wow,” you laugh, bringing your hands up to cradle his flushed face. “That was,” 

“Incredible?” He finishes your sentence, kissing your sweaty forehead over and over. You let out a soft moan in agreement, and his cock jumps inside of you at the sound. 

“Mmh,” you whimper, the warmth creeping back into your belly, and you squeeze around Yunho’s cock. 

“Wanting more already?” He teases, pushing his hips against you, thrusting himself in even deeper. 

“Absolutely,” you squeeze around him again, craning your neck up to capture his lips with yours. “Fuck me however you want, baby,” you whisper against his mouth. His cock twitches inside you again and you giggle, waiting for his next move. 

“Flip over,” he pants, “I wanna fuck you like this,” he slips out of you and you whine, feeling empty. He helps you roll onto your belly, kneeling behind you as he pulls your ass in the air and plants a hand in the middle of your back, guiding you to arch for him. You squish your cheek into the mattress, trying to look back at him. “Fucking hell,” he palms your ass with both hands, admiring your delectable form, “you are unreal.” 

“Yun, please, I need you,” you whine as he bends over your body, planting hot, wet kisses up your spine until he reaches the nape of your neck, bringing his lips to your ear. You feel his cock bump against your backside, his body flush against yours.

“You are insatiable, my love,” your heart flutters at the word, but your lust pushes any overanalyzing to the back of your mind in favor of how desperate you are for him. 

You push back into him, feeling the tip of his cock bump against your heat. He straightens at the feeling, rubbing circles into your hips with his thumbs as he watches you move. You roll your hips, catching the tip of his cock between your folds, wiggling and rocking to find the right angle before it finally slips inside. 

“Oh, fuck,” he whimpers as you push back, taking him deeper and deeper until your ass is flush against him. You start bouncing your hips, taking him in and out, slowly at first, the sounds of his moans filling your ears and soaking your center. 

“Feel good, baby?” You muffle from beneath him, moving your hips quicker with each bounce on his cock. You open your legs a little wider, the new angle rocking his cock against your g-spot. 

“The best thing I’ve ever felt,” he rolls his hips to meet yours, the sound of skin slapping filling the air of his bedroom. “I can’t believe how long we’ve waited for this,” he grips your hips, meeting your thrusts in earnest, fucking into you impossibly deep. You match each other’s pace immediately, moans and whines filling the air. 

He threads his fingers through your hair, tugging you upwards until your body is flush against his, your sweat-slicked bodies rocking together. His hand drops from your hair to wrap around your neck, holding you firmly in place as he threads his other hand between your legs, his middle and ring finger easily finding your swollen clit. 

“I want you like this forever,” he whispers in your ear as he drives into you, your motivation to bounce on him melting into the mattress beneath you. You want him to take you however he wants you, your body molding into his grip. 

“Forever,” you nod as he kisses your neck, “you have me forever Yunnie,” 

“Again,” he groans as you tighten around him, his fingers swirling around your clit, your third orgasm of the night building rapidly low in your belly. “Say it again,” 

“Forever,” you repeat, “I’m yours forever,” 

“Fuck, sweetheart, I’m so close,” he growls into your ear, “you take me so well, like you were made for me,” 

“I was, Yun,” you assure him, “I was made for you,” he rubs your clit faster, “and you were made for me,” 

“God, yes,” he kisses your shoulder, his pace faltering as he gets closer to the edge, “I love you, y/n, fuck.” His fingers swirl around your clit as his hips stutter, spilling hot and fast inside of you. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” he repeats over and over as he ruts into you. 

“I love you, Yunho,” you cry out, your heart exploding as your orgasm follows, your body shuddering against him as you come together, your words and his swirling around you in the afterglow. 

He holds you tight against him, guiding your spent form back down to the mattress, kissing every inch of your skin as you both come down from your highs. He slips out of you, lowering your hips, massaging your sore muscles before rolling onto his back next to you. You mimic his position, flipping over so you’re both staring at the ceiling, processing the words you both just confessed. You lay together in silence, the sounds of both of you trying to catch your breath filling the room. You let your eyes close, processing the moment.

“Jeong Yunho,” your voice is hoarse once you speak. “Tell me you love me.” Your eyes flutter open, turning your head to see him already beaming at you. He rolls onto his side, bringing himself nose to nose with you. 

“I love you.” He declares, clear and confident, your heart swelling in your chest. His lips brush over yours, both of you smiling as he kisses you softly. “Your turn,” he whispers. You copy him, rolling onto your side, brushing his sweat slicked hair from his forehead as he throws an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“I love you,” you giggle, kissing him again. 

“One more time?” 

“I, love, you,” you emphasize each word with a gentle kiss on his lips, 

“I will never get tired of hearing that,” he whispers. “Let’s go get cleaned up.” 

You whine in protest, but Yunho eventually gets you into the bathroom, running a hot shower for the both of you. You wash up together, hardly able to keep your hands off of each other. Once you’ve fallen apart in his hands twice more and the water’s run cold, he helps you into a pair of his boxers and his biggest, softest sweatshirt. 

“This feels like a dream,” you think out loud once you’re snuggled up in Yunho’s bed together. “Is this a dream?” 

“If it is, I never want to wake up,” he smiles at you under the dim street lights flooding through his windows. “This is all I need, forever.” 

You kiss him at that, soft and tender, his arms wrapping tighter around you, holding you close. You fall asleep shortly after, nose to nose, hearts full. 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

You wake to the morning sun shining through Yunho’s bedroom windows, the sweet smell of vanilla flooding your nose. Stretching your tired limbs, you roll over to find the other side of the bed empty. Panic floods your mind at the sight, your past making you assume the worst. Is he sleeping on the couch? You wonder. Does he regret what he said and now he’s avoiding me? Before you can reason with yourself, you jump out of bed and speed walk down the hallway, stopping dead in your tracks when you reach the kitchen. 

“You’re not freaking out, are you y/n?” Yunho drawls, his voice still laced with sleep, low and raspy. He hasn’t even looked at you yet, his focus being on the plate on the counter in front of him, but he already knows where your mind is at just by the sound of your footsteps coming down the hallway. Of course he does. His bare, wide shoulders shake as he laughs to himself. His pajama pants hang low on his hips, the muscles in his back moving beneath his skin as he throws the final touches on what’s in front of him. He spins around to face you holding a plate of pancakes, littered with strawberries cut into hearts. Your heart flutters at the scene in front of you. “You think I’m gonna make love to you, tell you that I love you, and not make you breakfast in the morning?” 

Suddenly feeling self conscious over your immediate assumption that he regretted your night together, you cross your arms, avoiding his gaze. “I got scared,” you whisper. 

“That I left you in my apartment all alone? Baby,” he puts the plate down, “I would never, especially after last night,” he crosses the kitchen to reach you, pulling you into his warm embrace, his hot skin beneath you melting away the coldness you felt from waking up alone. “I’m not like…him,” he reminds you, brushing his fingers through your hair. “You are safe with me. Safe, loved, protected, respected, I could go on and on. Do you understand me?” He presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head. 

You nod against his chest. “I do,” you feel a tear slide down your cheek, spreading from your skin, onto his. He squeezes you in a tight hug. 

“Come on, let’s get some food in your system. You haven’t eaten since our pastries at Blossom last night,” he releases you to grab your plate, as well as a second he made for himself, and drops another quick kiss to your forehead before carrying them to the coffee table in his living room. 

“Come sit,” he beckons you, and you follow automatically, plopping on the couch. He grabs your favorite throw blanket before sitting down next to you, draping it over both of your laps. No matter how hard you try to ignore them, negative thoughts are still plaguing your mind. You both pick up your plates, eating in silence for a few moments before Yunho speaks up again. 

“Y/n, what’s on your mind?” His tone is so sincere, you immediately feel guilty for making him worry. 

“I’m just–” you hesitate for a moment. “I’m scared it’s too good to be true.” 

“What is? Us?” Worry flickers across his features, his heart aching seeing you so distraught. 

“Yeah,” you sigh, poking at one of your pancakes with your fork. You know you’re being unreasonable, and that Yunho has shown you nothing but love and commitment as long as you’ve known him. But your self doubt and your history of awful relationships is screaming at you that you don’t deserve him. You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t even realize that you’re crying. 

Yunho gently takes your plate from your hands, putting both his and yours back on the coffee table. He shifts his body slowly until he’s kneeling on the floor in front of you, resting his hands on your blanket-covered thighs.

“Y/n, look at me,” he pleads. You wipe the tears from your cheeks, patting the dampness into the blanket in your lap. You rest your hands on top of his, tracing the lines of his veins for a moment before dragging your gaze upwards to meet his. His eyes are glazed over with tears of his own. 

“Yunnie, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you, I–”

“Listen to me,” he interrupts. “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. The most precious thing in this world to me. Each moment that I spend with you fills me with a joy that I never experienced until I met you.” He turns his hands over to cradle yours as his tears finally fall down his cheeks. “I love you. And I will spend every day of the rest of my life proving that to you. And proving to you that you deserve the love that I give you.” 

You stifle a sob at his words, trying to take all of it in as the beautiful truth. You know he means it, he’s always meant every word he’s ever said to you, and you know you need to silence your anxieties in favor of what you know to be true. 

“It’s gonna take time,” you whisper. “It’ll take time for me to believe that I deserve what you give me,” you wipe your own tears, then his, both of you laughing breathlessly at your own emotions. “But I will get there,” you continue, “I just need you to be patient with me.” 

“Of course. I will spend the rest of my life reminding you what you deserve, sweetheart. That’s a promise.” 

“I love you.” You cradle his head in your hands, memorizing every inch of his face, savoring the first day of the rest of your lives.

“I love you,” he kisses the tip of your nose. “Let’s go finish our breakfast in bed.” 

“Okay,” you giggle watching Yunho jump up to grab both your plates, giddily walking toward his bedroom with a wide smile on his face. 

“You coming?” He glances over his shoulder at you, his ears blushing bright red as he waits for you. 

You nod, hopping up to follow after him, to your new forever.

[blank-potato]

Insomniacs with a z

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x Reader x John Walker

Summary:

“Damn it, John, let go,” you whisper under your breath, carefully trying to pry one of his arms off your waist. No use. His super soldier strength is in full effect, and all you manage to do is shift the grip higher—great, now he’s got you in a chokehold. And as if the universe hadn’t punished you enough for choosing this sleepover, Bob snuggles closer behind you. You feel the warm tickle of his breath against your neck as his nose nudges into your hair, his arm casually thrown across your side like it belongs there. “Not you too,” you mutter, eyebrows furrowing as you attempt to wiggle free. But with John locked on one side and Bob clinging to you like a sleepy koala, your options are severely limited. Or You form the New Avengers' very first sleep sub-unit. You, John and Bob all struggle to sleep, so you sleep in the same bed together to help each other out. And it's definitely platonic.

Tags/Warnings: 18+ Explicit Content, smut, fluff, little angst, threesome, p in v, oral sex (female and male receiving), creampie, sex dream, John and Bob being cute

WC: 9.5k

A/N: Started this ages a while ago but finally finished it. I wrote this because who wouldn't wanna be in a John and Bob sandwich, and I feel like since it's May (Challengers month but every month is Challengers month imo) I need to write threesomes. And I love Sentryagent, Thunderbolts has brought back the multishipper in me. Enjoy!

***

Sleep was something that often escaped you. After the things you’ve done, the things you’ve seen, you’re surprised you sleep at all. It’s like your mind refuses to shut down, always racing, always bracing for something that never comes. Like there's a part of you that's always on watch, never letting you fully rest unless your body gives in from pure exhaustion.

So here you are again, wide awake at god-knows-what hour, standing in the kitchen in your sweats, staring into the fridge like it’s going to offer you something other than the same sad leftovers and a questionable bottle of juice. You close it. Two and a half seconds later, you open it again.

You pace. Open a cabinet. Close it. Lean against the counter. Wander to the sink. Insomnia’s a bitch. The hum of the fridge is loud in the quiet of the night, and the soft creak of the floorboards beneath your feet is the only rhythm to your restless routine.

“What are you doing up?” a voice asks from behind you.

You turn to see John standing in the doorway, looking tired, his old white army shirt wrinkled, hair an adorable mess (not that you’d ever say that out loud). His expression is soft, caught somewhere between concern and exhaustion.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you say, shrugging. “Staring at my ceiling was starting to drive me crazy. What about you?”

John exhales deeply, like he’s carrying the weight of something heavy. “Same. Too much on my mind.”

“Feel free to join me,” you say, hopping onto the counter next to him. He doesn’t say anything at first, just moves around the kitchen trying to get his bearings. You sit on the counter, watching him as he searches the cabinets.

You never quite knew what it was. It wasn’t anything obvious, just something about seeing him like this, all comfy in his pyjamas. You liked it more than you probably should.

"You're staring," He says, snapping you back to your senses.

"Am not."

“Are too,” he replies smugly, finally retrieving a jar from the cabinet like he just found buried treasure.

“You’re such a child,” you say, rolling your eyes, though you’re smiling despite yourself.

“And yet, here you are. Watching me like I’m the last man on Earth who knows how to make a sandwich,” He says, going over to the fridge to grab bread. 

“I’m just making sure you don’t burn the kitchen down,” you lie, folding your arms.

“With peanut butter?” John questions, eyebrow quirked up. 

“You never know.”

He rolls his eyes at you and tosses his bread in the toaster as he goes to try to find the jam for his PB&J.

Just then, there's a quiet creak, the unmistakable sound of someone stepping into the kitchen. You and John both glance over to see Bob walk in, clearly not realising anyone else is there yet. He grabs a glass, eyes still adjusting to the light, then turns around. 

He stops in his tracks when he sees the two of you. His hair’s sticking up like he’d just rolled out of bed, and he's holding his empty glass like he’s just been caught stealing. In an instant, his powers kick in, the glass shattering in his hand. 

“Oh shit, I’ll…” Bob blurts, immediately rushing to pick up the broken glass with his hands.

John’s on the move before the words even finish leaving Bob’s mouth, already halfway across the kitchen, when he heard the glass break. “Be careful, you’ll hurt yourself—”

“I can’t get cut, remember?” Bob says with a small grin, crouched and collecting the shards like it’s no big deal.

John hesitates, hand still extended like he might intercept him anyway. He often forgot just how strong Bob actually was, it wasn’t something he ever led with. Something about the way he carried himself made you want to protect him, even if he was as strong as a God. Same for the rest of the team, probably.

“Still…” John mutters, his concern clinging stubbornly to the edge of his voice, even if it had no real argument to stand on.

You hop off the counter, bare feet, making a quick dash to the broom closet. “What are you even doing awake, Bob?”

“My mind was too busy. Plus, I’m kind of hungry,” he replies, tossing the glass shards in the bin. You start sweeping up the remnants of glass left on the floor when you get an idea. 

“Wanna have a midnight snack?” you offer.

“It’s 3 a.m.,” John cuts in, after glancing at his watch. 

You flash him a quick grin. “Wanna have a 3 a.m. snack?”

Bob nods, his grin matching yours now. You make quick work of sweeping up any remaining glass on the floor, and the two of you start raiding the fridge like a pair of delinquents. John watches from the side, towel slung over his shoulder, arms crossed. He rolls his eyes, but there’s the faintest curve of a smile tugging at his mouth.

“I swear, the two of you are going to be the death of me.”

There’s a beat of silence as you and Bob settle on cereal, clinking spoons against mismatched bowls.

“Do you smell that?” Bob asks, nose wrinkling slightly.

There’s a very distinct burning smell filling the room, thick and bitter.

“The toast,” John grumbles, fingers running through his hair. 

“I told you,” you gloat with a smug grin, watching as he rushes to the toaster.

He yanks the lever up and pulls out what is no longer a slice of bread but a small, blackened slab of charcoal.

“It’s cremated,” Bob says through a mouthful of cereal, casually stabbing another spoonful into his mouth.

John just sighs in defeat.

“Just join us in having cereal,” you tell him, nudging the box toward him with a smirk.

“Fine,” he grumbles, grabbing a bowl. Eventually, the three of you relocate to the couch, cereal bowls in hand, because the counters weren’t exactly comfortable, and the kitchen still smelled like a small appliance fire.

“So… what’s keeping you both up tonight?” you ask, nestled between them on the couch.

John answers first, his voice monotone. “The usual.”

The usual being everything he never says out loud, all his regrets, everything he’s lost, everyone he’s lost. All the weight he still carries. It’s been quite some time since the divorce, but he still hasn’t quite gotten used to sleeping alone, constantly tossing and turning, wanting someone to be there.

Bob chimes in, “Same. The usual.”

His mind was always too awake at night, too weak and susceptible to slipping back into the darkness. It was impossible for him not to think about everything that haunted him. He was unbelievably touch-starved. He knew touch was one thing that could help soothe the restless chaos inside. Sleeping alone, just feeling the cold sheets on his skin, only made the emptiness grow louder and kept him up.

You raise an eyebrow. “What an open group we have here.”

John glances over. “What about you, then?”

You hesitate, staring down at your cereal for a beat, then sigh. “The usual…”

The silence that follows is oddly comforting. Each of you lost in your thoughts, shoulders brushing lightly, grounded only by the shared sound of quiet crunching. You all finish your cereal, the moment hanging in the air like a soft exhale.

Bob stands, collecting the empty bowls. “I’ll wash these.”

“Are you guys going back to bed?” you ask, stretching slightly as you glance between them.

John shrugs, sinking further into the couch. “I’ll stay here for a bit…”

Bob returns a few moments later from the kitchen and flops down next to you, his shoulder brushing yours. “Same.”

The three of you start shuffling around on the couch until everyone finds a spot that feels comfortable, John leaning back with his feet on the coffee table, Bob sitting close enough that your knees touch, and you tucked between them like the final puzzle piece. From there, the conversation seemed to flow, distracting you all from what was keeping you up at night. 

“I mean, you turned my shield into a taco,” John says, deadpan but with a slight edge. You’ve always known he was a little bitter about it. 

“I said I was sorry!” Bob defends himself, holding his hands up in mock surrender, “I was a different man then.”

You chuckle at their banter, head resting back against the cushion as their voices wrap around you like a blanket. The warmth of their presence, the soft glow of the living room, and the gentle rhythm of familiarity start to lull you to sleep.

You don’t even remember when your eyes close. Just the sound of them, bickering, laughing, still talking as if the world outside these walls doesn’t exist.

***

You wake up the next morning, so well rested, you’d think you slept on a bed of clouds and dreams. 

John’s arms are draped loosely around your waist, his fingers just barely brushing your skin beneath the hem of your shirt. Bob’s head rests gently on your shoulder, his breath soft and warm against your neck, making you shiver even as you smile sleepily.

The sun is barely peeking through the curtains, casting a soft golden hue over the quiet living room.

You know you can’t stay here forever, so with great care and a ridiculous amount of flexibility, you begin to untangle yourself from their limbs. 

You pause once or twice as Bob shifts slightly or John murmurs something unintelligible in his sleep, but they don’t wake. 

It isn’t as easy as you’d think it’d be, especially once you realise you’re caught in a trap. John’s arms tighten around you in his sleep like you’re some kind of oversized teddy bear he refuses to part with.

“Damn it, John, let go,” you whisper under your breath, carefully trying to pry one of his arms off your waist. No use. His super soldier strength is in full effect, and all you manage to do is shift the grip higher—great, now he’s got you in a chokehold.

And as if the universe hadn’t punished you enough for choosing this sleepover, Bob snuggles closer behind you. You feel the warm tickle of his breath against your neck as his nose nudges into your hair, his arm casually thrown across your side like it belongs there.

“Not you too,” you mutter, eyebrows furrowing as you attempt to wiggle free. But with John locked on one side and Bob clinging to you like a sleepy koala, your options are severely limited.

It takes at least fifteen minutes before you finally manoeuvre your way out of the human bear trap that is your two oblivious teammates.

Once you’re out, you decide to have a little fun. You gently lift Bob’s head and nestle it against John's shoulder, shifting John's arm so it's draped protectively over Bob. The sight almost makes you stay.

Finally, you tuck a blanket around the two of them and step back, admiring your work with a sleepy smile. They looked peaceful. Safe.

You leave the room quietly, knowing full well someone, maybe Yelena or Bucky, would be the first to stumble in and find the two of them cuddled up like that.

They wake up hours later, the distant hum of activity signalling it’s definitely already afternoon.

“Walker?” Bob murmurs groggily, his voice rough with sleep, as he blinks at the ceiling. Then he turns his head and freezes, feeling John’s arm slung comfortably across his waist.

They both jolted upright like someone had hit a panic button.

“Nothing happened,” John says immediately, running a hand through his hair, eyes wide.

“Obviously,” Bob replies, a bit too fast, already scooting to the far end of the couch.

But any attempt at saving face is promptly ruined when Ava walks by with a mug in hand and a wicked grin.

“You two make a cute pair,” she teases without slowing, not even sparing them a second glance as she disappears down the hall.

They sit there for a beat, stunned, before Bob mutters, “Please tell me no one took pictures.”

John groans, rubbing his face. “We’re never hearing the end of this.”

***

The next few nights are tough. Worse than jetlag, worse than missions, worse than running on three hours of sleep and no espresso. You toss and turn like your sheets are made of sandpaper, pillow doing nothing to muffle the ache of absence beside you. You wanted to ask them, just once, to sleep beside you again. Just to see if it would help. Just to see if it meant anything.

But how were you supposed to do that? Knock on their door and go, "Sleep with me!"?

Mortifying.

Still, the restlessness was eating away at your nerves. So, gathering all the courage you can possibly muster, you decide maybe, just maybe, you’d go to both of their rooms and… ask. Or not ask. Maybe just stand there awkwardly until they read your mind.

You stumble out of bed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, and go to open your door—only to stop short at the sight of a tall brunette swaying nervously right in front of it, arm halfway raised to knock.

“Bob?” you whisper, blinking.

He jumps slightly, caught red-handed. “Oh… hey.”

You tilt your head, heart thudding. “What are you doing out here?”

He scratches the back of his neck, sheepishly. “I was just… walking. Or, not really. Thinking. Or maybe… not sleeping.”

You smile, because yeah, you know exactly what that’s like. “Same.”

There’s a pause. The moment stretches, as you both tiptoe around the same thought. Then, finally, you take the leap.

“So do you… wanna stay in here?”

Bob’s eyes flick up to yours, and his smile is small, but relieved.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Both of you lie next to each other on your bed, talking about nothing and everything. It feels more comfortable, and you can feel your body starting to relax a bit. 

But ten minutes later, there’s a knock on your door. You and Bob exchange a look, and you walk over to your door to see John standing there. He looks as tired as you are, eyes rimmed red, posture slack, like sleep has been eluding him for days.

John notices Bob already there, sitting cross-legged on your bed, half-wrapped in one of your throw blankets.

“I’m interrupting, aren’t I? I can—”

“Stay. Please, it’s okay. The more the merrier,” you say quickly, stepping aside. You were happy to see him, and judging by the soft smile tugging at Bob’s lips, so was he.

“So, I’m assuming you’re both here to sleep with me,” you start, watching as they both sit down on either side of you. They pause. Blink. The silence stretches, thick with implication.

“Well, you know what I mean,” you clarify, cheeks heating. “Sleep next to me. Next to each other in a totally platonic and cool friend way.”

“Yeah, like that…” John says, nodding way too seriously. “I actually slept really well when we crashed on the couch the other day, so…”

“Same,” Bob adds. “I… haven’t really slept since then. Not like real sleep.”

You look between the two of them, then glance at your bed.

“So… how are we all going to fit?”

There’s a beat of silence before John offers, “I’ll take the edge.”

“I don’t mind an edge either,” Bob shrugs. “Unless you want it.”

“I want pillows, that’s what I want,” you say, flopping backwards across the bed. “We’ll make it work.”

And somehow, you do. There's a bit of shifting, a tangle of limbs and blankets, someone’s foot ending up in the wrong place and being shoved off with a muttered complaint. You’re in a Bob and John sandwich, and it’s actually very comfortable. Just knowing that you didn’t have to fall asleep alone did more for you than you thought it would.

You smile to yourself and relax, the warmth of them on either side soothing you more than any blanket ever could.

“Are you guys asleep?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bob lets out a soft, “No,” and John follows with a groggy, “I was.”

“I thought of a name for us. We’re ‘insomniacs… with a z,’’ Good right?” you whisper with a grin, and though you can’t see his face in the dark, you know John rolled his eyes at that.

“You need to go to sleep,” Bob murmurs, leaning into you, his voice low and full of fondness.

You hum in response, already halfway to unconsciousness again, feeling his hand settle gently on your waist while John’s leg brushes yours under the covers.

***

For the next few nights, the three of you fall into an unspoken routine. Cramming into your bed, trading dumb jokes and half-whispered stories until sleep takes over. It’s oddly comforting. Easy. You've never slept better.

Sometimes when you’d walk in, John and Bob would already be there, lying next to each other, leaving just enough space for you, but close enough that their legs touched under the blanket. You saw it even if they didn’t. The way Bob’s shoulders relaxed just a little more when John was near. The way John’s usually guarded face softened around him. Bob’s quiet glances when he thought no one was looking. John’s compulsive need to take care of him, even in the smallest ways, like adjusting the blanket around Bob’s shoulders or handing him a snack before he could ask for one.

You even caught John absentmindedly running his fingers through Bob’s hair once, his other hand resting casually on your shoulder as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And maybe, for the three of you, it was.

It was your little (not-so-secret) secret. Until one morning when Bucky catches you all red-handed. 

He rounds the corner, coffee mug in hand, just in time to catch John and Bob exiting your room. They're both rumpled and sleepy-eyed, Bob rubbing the back of his neck, John trying to quietly shut your door.

They both freeze when they see him.

Bucky raises an eyebrow, lips already twitching.

“It really isn’t what it looks like,” John says quickly, holding up his hands like he’s surrendering.

Bucky takes a slow sip from his mug, never breaking eye contact. “And I’m really not sure I want to know, Walker.”

Bob makes a small noise of protest, like he wants to clarify something, but then thinks better of it.

“But whatever helps you sleep at night,” Bucky deadpans, walking past them.

John takes a breath while Bob chokes on air.

Trying to eat breakfast after that was… an ordeal, to say the least. Ava was in the kitchen, minding her business but clearly listening, her facial expressions and raised brows doing all the talking. And Alexei (of course) was making himself at home, throwing not-so-subtle glances your way that made you want to crawl into a hole and never come out.

“I think it’s a great idea,” Alexei comments casually, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “Young people need warmth. Back in my day, we shared beds all the time for survival.”

“Right,” you mutter, pushing cereal around in your bowl.

“Nothing brings people closer than shared body heat,” he continues. 

“Ugh…” you groan, dropping your spoon. But all this was worth it. You needed them in your bed… for completely platonic reasons. Obviously.

That night, you open the door to see John already leaning against the frame like he owns the place.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” you say with mock grandeur, stepping aside to let him in.

John heads straight to your bed, dropping onto it like it's his. He leans back, gets comfortable, then pauses—his brow furrowing.

“Have you been eating cookies in here?”

“…No,” you lie, a little too quickly.

John shifts, brushing a hand across the blanket with exaggerated suspicion. “I can feel the crumbs,” he says, deadpan.

You roll your eyes, not wanting to hear the full lecture. “Okay, maybe one cookie. Or maybe it was more like… four.”

John sighs, dragging a hand through his hair, clearly fighting the urge to launch into a full monologue about hygiene and cookie crumbs.

“I’m not sleeping in your cookie-infested bed,” he mutters, shooting you a look. “Couldn’t you have, I don’t know, used a plate instead of just rawdogging it with your comforter?”

“Who takes a plate of cookies to bed?” you argue, arms crossed, as if this is a totally reasonable lifestyle choice.

John just stares at you. “People who respect baked goods and their sheets,” he rebuts dryly, rubbing his temple like you’re this close to giving him a headache. “When Bob gets here, we’ll just go to my room instead.”

But ten minutes pass. Then fifteen.

And still—no Bob.

You glance at the clock, then at John. “Think we should check on him?” you ask, the teasing drained from your voice now.

You were both beyond concerned.

Something wasn’t right.

John nods, and you follow behind him in silence, heart tight in your chest, hoping Bob’s alright.

“Bob? Are you in there?” John calls out, knocking once, then again, louder this time. But there’s no response.

He tries the handle. Unlocked.

Pushing the door open, you’re met with a rush of cold air. The window had been left wide open, the curtains fluttering slightly in the night breeze. The room is dim, quiet, and strangely still.

Then you see it—a Bob-shaped lump curled in the corner, knees drawn in, arms wrapped around himself like he’s trying to hold something in… or keep everything else out.

“Bob?” you say gently, voice soft but urgent, as you and John step carefully inside.

He doesn’t move. Still cradled in the same position. Shoulders tight. Breathing shallow.

The two of you lower yourselves to the floor, sitting near but not too close, not wanting to spook him, not wanting to leave him alone either.

“I’m fine,” Bob says after a long silence. His voice is thin. Flat. The kind of “fine” that clearly means anything but.

“This doesn’t look fine,” John replies quietly, a mix of concern and frustration in his voice.

You take in his dishevelled form—hair messy and clinging to his forehead, eyes wet with tears that he hadn’t bothered to wipe away. His whole body looks like it’s holding something heavy, like whatever’s going on inside him is too much to carry alone.

“You can tell us when you’re ready,” you say gently, your voice steady despite the ache building in your chest. “But we’re not leaving you alone.”

“We’ll stay on the floor with you all night if we have to,” John adds, firm and honest, with no hesitation.

Bob looks between the two of you, eyes wide and shining, like the idea of someone staying is new and almost too much to believe.

“You don’t understand…” he whispers, voice cracking. “If I lose control... I don’t hurt just me. I hurt everyone.”

Bob closes his eyes, and the memories hit him like a freight train—what happened in New York flashing through his mind as vividly as if it were happening again. He can still hear the screams, the panic in the streets, the chaos he caused. What he became. The helplessness of knowing that at any moment, it could all slip again. He could become that thing. And there’d be no undoing it.

“Bob,” you say gently, grounding him, your voice pulling him back from the edge.

His glassy eyes flutter open to the sight of you and John. He could see that you cared, more than he was used to. 

“If you lose control,” you continue, steady and unwavering, “every single one of us will be here to bring you back.”

“This will never be something you have to fight on your own. Never again,” John says, his voice thick with conviction.

And that’s when Bob breaks.

The weight he’s been carrying finally cracks, and he collapses into John’s arms, sobbing, raw and unfiltered. He reaches for your hand, grip tightens around it as soon as you find it. 

You stay there, the three of you, only the sound of Bob’s soft, trembling breaths audible. No one rushes him. No one lets go.

By the time you’re all finally drifting into sleep, slouched against each other on the floor, the first light of morning is creeping through the window.

***

The next day is a lot brighter.

The whole team is sent out on a mission that almost goes smoothly, if you don’t count the narrowly avoided international incident and the flaming jeep that somehow ended up in a fountain. But no one’s seriously hurt, and considering the usual chaos, that’s practically a win.

By the time you all make it back to the tower, bones are aching, eyes are heavy, and moods are dangerously close to cranky.

Then someone smells it.

Food. Real food.

The delicious scent winds through the hallways. The team practically floats toward the kitchen on instinct, lured like cartoon characters by the promise of actual food.

You spot Bob at the stove, apron slightly crooked, sleeves rolled up, a little flushed from the heat. You rush over to him, ruffling his hair without hesitation.

“You didn’t have to,” you say, smiling.

“I felt better today,” Bob says, glancing at you shyly, then smiling a little more freely. “So… I thought this might help. Everyone seemed like they needed something good.”

His eyes flick briefly to John, who’s leaning against the doorway, watching with soft approval.

“Well, thank you. We really appreciate it,” John says. “Plus, it’s definitely better than whatever the hell Alexei made last week.”

Alexei pipes up from the table, “It was fusion.”

“It was a war crime,” Ava mutters.

Everyone laughs, the tension melting into the kind of easy camaraderie that doesn’t come often, but when it does, it means something.

The whole time you eat, you feel it, that strange warmth in your chest, like a string pulled gently taut between the three of you. You catch yourself looking forward to nightfall in a way you never used to.

Like clockwork, they enter your room that night, John with a tired smile, Bob already carrying a pillow under one arm like he’s making himself at home. You scoot over to make space as they settle in on either side of you.

“Can you both do something for me?” you ask softly, voice barely above a whisper.

“Name it,” Bob replies without hesitation, already leaning closer.

“No judgment,” you say, a bit embarrassed, “but… can you run your fingers through my hair?”

There’s a beat of silence, then two sets of hands move almost simultaneously. No teasing. No questions. Just soft fingers brushing through your hair, careful and gentle.

You lean into their touch. Each stroke sends a calm shiver down your spine, melting tension from your body. You don’t mean to fall asleep, not that fast, but your eyes flutter shut and the weight of the day slips away before you even realise it.

“She’s been falling asleep a lot quicker lately,” John comments quietly, pulling the blanket up over you.

Bob nods, watching your steady breathing. “Yeah… think she just needed to feel safe.” His hand lingers for a moment, brushing a stray strand from your face before settling back. Then something happens that makes them question everything. 

You moan.

“Did you…?” John starts with a mix of hesitation and curiosity, but he’s cut off when you mumble in your sleep.

“John…” you whisper softly, dream-heavy and far too sweet.

Both of them freeze. Bob’s hand goes still on the blanket, and John stares at you like you just hit him with a truck. You continue, a few more unintelligible whimpers slipping out. They’re soft, needy little sounds that make both men immediately and awkwardly alert.

Your brows scrunch in your sleep, and then another mumble: “Bob…so good…”

Their hands are completely out of your hair now, as though it burned them. They exchange a wide-eyed look.

“What’s happening?” Bob says, whispering like the room itself might judge him.

“She’s dreaming,” John mutters back, blinking at you. “But… of what exactly?”

“She said both our names.”

“I know.” A pause. “Do you think we should wake her up?”

“No,” Bob cuts in quickly, eyes fixed on you, like you might say something even more incriminating. “We should let her sleep.”

They both sit stiffly now, backs straight, trying very hard to think about anything else as you sigh contentedly in your sleep, clearly having a very different kind of night than they are.

“Whatever it is,” John finally mutters, “it must be really good.”

“Walker…” Bob says, voice low and barely above a whisper.

“I’m just saying,” John mutters, lifting his hands in defence. The blonde’s ears were still pink, eyes wide. “I’ve never heard her make noises like that. That had to be… something.”

Bob runs a hand through his hair, clearly flustered. “Yeah, something. Something that included both of us.”

John sinks a little deeper into the mattress, staring at the ceiling like it might offer answers. “That’s what I’m saying.”

You gasp softly in your sleep, a breathy “Holy shit…” slipping out before your voice finally fades into silence. Your breathing evens out, those needy little noises replaced by soft, peaceful snores.

They both freeze, eyes locked on you like you’re a live grenade in the middle of the bed.

And then, finally, you shift slightly and curl in, utterly unaware of the absolute panic you’ve left in your wake.

John exhales slowly, rubbing a hand over his face. “Let’s just… go to bed.”

“Goodnight, Walker,” Bob says, still sounding dazed.

They lay back down, each careful not to touch you or each other as if contact might electrocute them. They eventually fall asleep, but their minds? Nowhere near quiet. And between the memories of your sleep-talking and the unanswered questions hanging thick in the air, it ends up being the most uncomfortable restful night either of them has had.

***

The blankets rustle and shift, and you move closer to the two of them, shuffling about as you fight to get comfy.

“You need to stop moving,” John grumbles, his voice gravely as he's already half-asleep.

“I’m just trying to get comfortable,” you argue, shuffling over to press against Bob, who whines in protest.

“You really do need to stop moving like that,” Bob chimes in, his voice a little breathy, not entirely annoyed.

John’s hand finds your hip, firm but gentle, holding you still. “John…” you whisper, suddenly aware of how close his body is pressed against your back.

He leans down, lips brushing your ear as he murmurs, “Do you want this as much as we do?”

You look between the two of them and let out a soft, shaky breath. “Yes.”

He exhales like he’s been holding that breath for days, and then John’s lips are at your neck, slow and deliberate. Bob’s hands find your waist, pulling you closer, grounding you.

“Can I?” he asks gently, his eyes searching yours.

“Yes, Bob…”, you reply, and he leans in, your lips meeting in a kiss that’s careful at first, but quickly deepens. It’s a little messy, a little desperate, like he’s been waiting too long to do this. Pulling back, you gasp softly, breath mingling in the space between you.

Looking up at both of them, your words are a whisper, “I need you so bad.”

Your pleas are interrupted as John’s hands climb up your shirt and under your bra. It’s like everything he did was made to make you fall apart.

As if you weren’t overwhelmed enough, you feel Bob’s lips on your neck. His tongue tracing patterns, his lips kissing your sensitive spots so hard that it makes your toes curl.

Then suddenly all the touches stop, and you find yourself trying to catch up to the shift in the air. You’re about to open your mouth and whine about it when you notice them looking at each other.

It’s charged and quiet, electric, even.

Then John’s hand lifts, tentative, almost hesitant, and his fingers curl into Bob’s hair, like he’s done it before, or thought about doing it a thousand times. He leans in, and they kiss. It’s entrancing, the way their bodies shift toward each other like magnets finally giving in to the pull.

You’re sure you saw tongue.

Watching them kiss was a once in a lifetime experience and the fact that it was happening on top of you, “Holy shit…” 

Was this heaven?

You wake up, still a little dazed from that crazy dream you had, but feeling refreshed nonetheless. But you can’t lie, you wanted (needed) to see the end of that dream, but life couldn’t be so easy.

As you start to shake off the haze, you’re expecting the usual warmth, an arm slung around your waist, maybe a leg tangled with yours. Instead, there's nothing but cold sheets and the sharp absence of closeness. Your hand stretches out and touches only air. You blink groggily and glance around to see both Bob and John at opposite ends of the bed, practically clinging to the edges like there’s a force field between them, and you.

You let out a big, unfiltered yawn, and both of them twitch. Like actual startled animals.

They exchange a glance above you, a rapid, silent conversation with widened eyes and furrowed brows before both sit up like someone just sounded an alarm.

“What’s up?” you ask, squinting at them suspiciously. “You two look like you just got caught doing something illegal.”

“N–nothing,” Bob stammers, eyes flicking to John, then back to the floor. “I should get going, though. Breakfast… cleaning… stuff.”

“Yeah, I’ve got training,” John says, not meeting your gaze either. “Mission later, gotta prep.”

“Guys?” you press, voice dipping slightly with confusion.

“I need to, uh, do some chores. Important chores. Early morning chores.” Bob’s words tumble out of his mouth clumsily as he untangles himself from your sheets. “I have to go.”

And just like that, they both bolt, practically tripping over each other in their haste to leave the room.

You're left blinking at the door, your head spinning.

“…What the hell just happened?” you mutter to no one.

Did you miss something? Or worse, did you do something?

Because whatever it was, they’re clearly spooked.

All day, they ignore you, and you’d never seen either of them act like this before.

John, who’s normally a chatterbox, could barely talk to you on the mission; it was like when it came to you, it was like he couldn’t even hear your voice. And Bob, sweet and usually glued to your side, sat across the room at dinner like being near you might set him on fire. Every time your eyes met, he looked away.

To make matters worse, they break their ‘Insomniacs with a z’ club commitment. You wait up at night, waiting for them to come, but they don’t. Midnight, 1 am, 2 am, and they’re still not here, so you lie down in your sheets on your cold and empty bed, trying to sleep. You can’t, though, it’s the first sleepless night in a while, and there’s no other reason than the fact that they’re not by your side. 

You wake up alone again and with a mood. It was one thing if they didn’t want to do it anymore, but to drop you with no explanation wasn’t fair.

You were practically a walking sigh at this point.

Moping in the kitchen, tragically stirring your cereal like it personally offended you.

Moping in the gym, aimlessly walking on the treadmill like your heartbreak was some dramatic indie film montage.

You even moped in the laundry room, staring into the dryer like it could somehow spin your problems away.

And Yelena had had it.

“You want to talk?” she asked finally, catching you mid-mope as you stood in the hallway holding a half-folded towel like it was a fragile relic of a better time. “Because this sad little ghost routine is killing the vibe around here.”

You groaned, dragging the towel dramatically over your face. “They don’t want to sleep with me anymore.”

Yelena blinked. “Wait, what?”

You lowered the towel. “No—I mean—not like that.”

She arched a brow.

“I mean like… they used to come into my room. And sleep. With me. Next to me. It was a whole thing. We’d talk, they’d run their fingers through my hair, but no funny business, and now? Nothing. They’re avoiding me like I’m radioactive.”

“Well,” Yelena says dryly, “There’s only one way to fix it.”

“…How?”

“Easy. Corner them. Trap them. Use emotional honesty and eye contact. Or—if that fails—lock them in a room until they start talking like adults.”

You blinked.

“You’re a genius.”

“That’s what I keep telling people,” She gloats before she disappears down the hallway.

You just had to lure them in. That night, you send them a message that’s sure to have them running to you.

“Where’s the spider?” They ask, both rushing into your room at the same time. 

You appear behind them, locking the door behind them, “Fools.”

They froze. Like deer in headlights.

Bob blinked first. “You… tricked us.”

“You sent a code red spider alert,” John added, accusatory, like that was the crime here.

“And it worked.  You two aren’t leaving until I get some answers. So now, sit. Talk.”

They hesitated, glancing at each other like maybe, just maybe, one of them could break down the door and flee. But they decided not to test your wrath.

“Why didn’t you show up last night?” you repeated, slower this time, folding your arms like a disappointed parent. “You can’t just… vanish, and not just that, but you’ve been avoiding me. It’s been miserable.”

“Did I do something?” You ask quietly, and from the subtle little flinch, you know it’s true. “Oh…”

You suddenly feel self-conscious and start rubbing your arm to subconsciously comfort yourself. Bob then steps forward, unable to let you be so distressed. “It’s not really your fault. It’s not like you can control it.”

You tilt your head at him, confused, “Control what?”

They both take a deep breath, doing their whole little silent conversation thing before obviously deciding on something. “Your dreams,” John finishes.

“My dreams–” You cut yourself off as your memories of last night's particularly steamy dream come to mind. Did you talk in your sleep?

“Did I.. Oh, I did, didn’t I?” You cry out before almost launching yourself into your bed headfirst.

“It’s not a big deal, I mean it’s understandable,” John says, gesturing to himself with his usual little grin.  “I am kind of dream worthy.”

You want your bed to just swallow you whole. “This is unbelievable. I’ll never be able to get over this. This will quite literally haunt me for the rest of my life.”

You lie still like a plank, bathing in your self-pity before a question snaps you out of it. 

“What happened exactly?” Bob asks, and your head snaps towards him.

“You want to know what happened in the dream?” You question, your mouth agape. 

Rolling onto your front, you suck in air as you replay the dream in your head, both of them shirtless, Bob’s lips on your neck, John’s fingers rubbing your clit through your panties, watching them kiss. “I don’t think that‘s the best idea.”

“It involved a few things here and there…” You say hesitantly as you try to downplay it, but the way they were looking at you from either side of you.

“We want to know,” John says, sitting down next to you. At this point, they’re both crowding around you, and you thought you were the one supposed to be trapping them.

“Well, as you can probably guess, it was a sex dream.”

You twiddle your fingers as if that’s going to make things any better and delay the inevitable awkward silence.

“And we all kissed,” you finish, voice barely above a whisper.

“Like… we both kissed you or…” Bob asks, eyebrows raised, needing the clarification more than anything else, though his voice is gentler than you expected.

“We all kissed,” you reiterate, firmer this time, like saying it with more certainty would somehow make it less embarrassing.

Bob opens his mouth, then closes it again, clearly processing before glancing over at John, who’s staring off, lost in thought, his brow furrowed as if trying to puzzle something out.

“Huh…” John finally says, scratching the back of his neck.

Bob exhales, rubbing the back of his neck too. “That’s… not what I expected, but, uh, not entirely unwelcome.”

You blink. “Wait, really?”

“So…” you begin, your voice quiet, unsure. You hesitate, wondering if you’re about to cross a line, if you're reading too much into the charged glances, the way they’ve both been orbiting closer each night. “Want to make it a reality?”

You almost regret the words the moment they’re out. But then, to your surprise, they both say yes.

You blink. They’re closer than you remember them being, shoulders brushing, heat pooling in the small space between the three of you.

They look at you, clearly unsure where to start. Taking things into your own hands, you reach for them gently, fingers threading into their hair. Bob’s hair is soft and slightly damp from a shower; John’s is shorter and messier, like he’s run his hands through it a dozen times today. They both look at you, wide-eyed, alert, hungry for your attention but waiting to be guided.

You kiss Bob first, slow, deliberate. He melts into it, moaning into your mouth like you're his salvation.

Then you turn to John. His kiss is different—deeper, more controlled—but just as wanting.

You pull back, eyes flicking between them, your hand still in John’s hair as you whisper, “Kiss him.”

They hesitate, eyes locked on each other. But only for a second.

Because they trust you and they trust each other.

You watch as they lean in, cautious at first, a brush of lips like testing the edge of something new.  Again, another enlightening experience. It’s softer than when it happened in your dream, but no less passionate. 

They pull apart to breathe, Bob laughing a little as he catches his breath. He catches the look on John’s face and immediately goes to explain himself.

“No, it’s just your beard is tickling my face,” Bob says with a shy smile.

Bob chuckles softly, his eyes twinkling.

John opens his mouth, about to apologise or say something, but Bob stops him gently.

“No, it’s okay… I like it,” Bob admits quietly.

They turn to you, noticing the way your eyes linger, how much you liked seeing them together.

“Oh, you really like that, huh?” John teases, a smug little grin on his face as he runs his fingers through your hair, right behind your ear, like he knows exactly how much that gets to you.

Bob leans in closer, voice softer but no less intense. “Didn’t know watching us would get you this worked up…”

Then, in a rush, like they can’t wait another second to get their hands back on you, they start removing their clothes. Shirts pulled off, pyjama pants too, movements frantic but focused.

You could scream.

It’s one thing to have one good-looking, shirtless man standing in front of you. It’s another to have two, both looking at you like you're the only thing in the room that matters.

You know exactly what they’d put in your autopsy report if you died right now:

“Cause of death: Abs.”

And honestly? Worth it.

It’s a mix of heat and motion, hands everywhere, so much that you don’t even know who’s touching you half the time. Fingers trailing your skin, lips brushing yours, pressure and pleasure blending until it’s all one glorious blur.

Your hands glide up and down Bob’s abs, firm and warm beneath your palms, while your lips trace along John’s bicep—so close you could just…

Before you know it, your teeth sink into him, biting down just hard enough to leave a mark.

“Did you just bite me?” John asks, blinking at you with a half-shocked, half-amused chuckle.

“Sorry,” you mumble, grinning. “Intrusive thoughts took over.”

“Bite me all you want,” he says, voice dropping low, “I can take it.”

Bob leans in from behind, his breath ghosting over your neck. “We both can.”

Just hearing that stole all the air from your lungs. In a flash, you’re lying on your back, as John ruts against you. You suspect he’s been hard ever since he and Bob made out, and you don’t blame him. 

Bob’s on the sidelines, completely entranced by John railing you, his desire on full display. Without hesitating, you reach out and palm his cock in your hands. “Can I?” You ask, and Bob swears your lips have never been so inviting. 

“Yeah, I…yeah.”

You take him into your mouth, with a kind of reverence that takes him by surprise. 

When you feel the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, you gag, a well of spit dripping out of your mouth onto the bed. 

“Doing so well,” Bob praises, watching you in awe, as he starts using your mouth more confidently. You moan desperately in response, and that’s all you're capable of right now. 

It’s almost too hard to keep up with. And you swear you’ve never been more full in your life. Your eyes screwed shut in pure ecstacy as you try to breath through your nose... You can’t think. 

“That’s a good girl,” John says as he pulls you close with each snap of his hips. You had to admit, you loved the praises they were giving you. Each one brings you that much closer to the edge. 

Suddenly, you feel Bob’s cum flooding your mouth, his hand holding onto yours as he comes down from the high you had given him. 

Then John pulls out of you, climbing off the bed and pulling the bottom half of your body with him. 

“John…” You whine, needing him back inside of you as soon as possible, because how dare he deprive you of his touch for even a second? 

“I know, I know... so impatient,” He laughs. You’re about to complain at him, but you’re interrupted by him getting on his knees, licking at your hole.  “John!” You scream out. No part of you was expecting him to start eating you out. Every part of your body, is freaking out and your hands scramble until they find Bob. 

As if to placate you, he kisses you, tongue invading your mouth just as John’s invades your pussy. 

You and Bob pull apart, a line of saliva still connecting your mouths as John continues to wreak havoc on your sanity—hands, mouth, voice, all driving you further under.

“Need you, Bob,” you whisper, breath shaky, and your mouth finds his neck, lips and teeth leaving a trail of heat. You press open-mouthed kisses along his throat, then bite down, again and again, each mark deliberate.

Bruises blooming like constellations across his skin.

You always thought he’d look nice all marked up with love bites, gasping out your name like you’re all he needs. 

And now you know he definitely does.

Just as you pull back to look at your masterpiece, John’s mouth pull away from your core only to be replaced with his cock. 

You hold onto Bob as John starts fucking you, each thrust hitting your sensitive spot dead on. “Please, John… please,” you gasp, voice wrecked with need as your words dissolve into incoherent babbles. You’re not even sure what you’re begging for anymore—his hands, his mouth, just more.

You feel him smirk against the back of your neck, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. His grip tightens, steadying you.

“You’re gonna have to be more specific, sweetheart,” he murmurs, low and teasing in your ear. “But I like you like this—messy and desperate.”

"Please, fuck me harder," You whine, not caring what you needed to say to keep feeling this good.

Bob groans softly behind you, his breath hot as he presses kisses along your shoulder. “You should see yourself right now…”

And just like that, you're gone again.

“Please never stop,” You gasp out to both of them and with another thrust from John, your orgasm hits you so hard, you think you might be done for. “Fuck!” You cry out, your legs trembling as you slide down Bob’s body, landing in the sheets next to his thigh. 

But John doesn’t stop, continuing to pound into you, not once losing pace. Damn that super solider serum. All your restraint and any trace of common sense were long gone. It had left the building as soon as their shirts came off. 

You fade in and out, until you feel him fill you up with his cum, your name coming out of his mouth in pants. 

John pulls out of you and immediately checks on you, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you puff out, chest rising and falling as you collapse onto your back, completely spent and dazed in the best possible way.

The room is warm with afterglow, breath and heat and tangled limbs. You barely register the sound of movement before John and Bob exchange a glance over you.

“Let me help you out,” John offers, seeing that Bob’s already half hard again. 

“You sure?” Bob asks softly, hesitation in his voice. He didn’t want to inconvenience him, but the words falter when John moves closer, solid and warm, his presence filling the space between them.

“I’m sure,” John murmurs, voice low and steady, his hand finding Bob’s hip like it belonged there. His touch is grounding, confident, and it makes Bob melt under it, like everything he was holding tense finally lets go.

“You don’t have to take care of me,” Bob adds, almost whispering.

John leans in, their foreheads brushing. “Maybe I want to.”

And with that, Bob exhales, letting him take control. His strong hands wrap around Bob’s dick, and Bob holds onto his arm, needing him so bad, he doesn't know what he’d do without him.

“Walker…John I—” He stutters as he moves his hips, thrusting into his hand with fervour. They look at one another. Bob’s eyes start glowing, the light pulsing with an intensity that feels almost alive. Unearthly, charged, and very imposing. It hums in the air between them, making John's chest tighten.

Afraid it might push Bob too far, might tip him into something he can’t come back from, John starts to pull away.

But Bob grabs him, firm, unyielding. “Don’t.”

It’s sharp, clipped, nothing like the sweet, careful way Bob usually speaks. The tension in his clenched jaw, the rawness in his voice, it’s not a plea. It’s a command. An order.

So John follows it.

He thrusts into John’s hand again and again, the control now flipped on its head, and John doesn’t mind one bit.

It was something else to see. Bob Reynolds, glowing, tense, his usual restraint stripped away. And still, like he was holding the universe back with his bare hands just to be gentle with him.

Then Bob’s eyes fall on you, intense and burning gold.

“Come here,” he says, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

He doesn’t wait for a response. You move, almost without thinking, drawn in by something magnetic and undeniable. You make your way over to him, and before you can even ask what he wants—

He’s kissing you. Like he’s been holding back for far too long.

John moves his hand away, letting Bob guide you until your back hits the bed.

“Are you ready?” Bob asks, smiling at you.

You consider your current position—John is beside you, lips trailing down one side of your neck, his hand firm on your waist. Bob’s cock is pushing against your hole, so close to giving you what you’ve been aching for. Your body is lit up like a live wire, and you feel like you might die.

And yet, heart racing—you let out a soft, breathy, “Yes.”

Bob pushes in slowly, and you find yourself mewling, John soothing you with his kisses. He starts slow, each thrust deeper than the last. 

As you start to get used to it, he picks up the pace, just enough to knock the breath from your lungs. Everything about this—your sounds, your body, the way you looked at him like he was the only thing in the world—was making him lose control.

He didn’t know it could feel so... so good. Overwhelming, all-consuming, better than anything he'd imagined in the haze of lonely nights and quiet want.

His voice is rough when he speaks, barely more than a whisper:

“I’m not gonna last if you keep looking at me like that.”

And honestly, neither are you.

And when John starts rubbing your clit, it’s over for you. Your moans become higher-pitched until you whimper out, “Holy.. I’m gonna…” 

A blinding orgasm hits you so hard, your back is arching off the bed. The sight is almost too much for them both, but especially Bob. When you come back down and relax against the bed, they both go back to touching you. Making sure you would have no peace while you’re with them.

Bob’s eyes glow again, and there’s a sharp cracking sound as a piece of your headboard is now somehow in his hand, splintered clean off without him even realising it.

Your eyes widen but there’s no time to focus on that, not while he’s fucking you into a new dimension. 

A few moments later, your bedroom mirror shatters, fractured by the force of the moment as he loses himself in you completely.

He starts to hesitate, breath catching, the weight of everything creeping in, but then he feels John’s hand on his back, steady and grounding, soothing him.

“Keep going,” John says, and all Bob wants to do is listen.

He ruts into you, fingers digging into your hips so hard, you know they’re going to leave bruises. 

Then Bob feels something, strong fingers threading into his hair as John pulls their lips together for the second time. This kiss is more desperate, more needy, like something inside him has snapped loose and there's no putting it back.

It’s messy and raw, and he doesn’t even try to slow down; his rhythm with you never falters, never once losing pace. You love a man who can multitask.

The kiss breaks only when breathlessness forces it, and Bob pulls back just slightly, eyes blown wide, lips swollen, his mind a complete daze. 

“I’m close,” You tell him, and he moves faster, doubling his efforts to make you feel good. 

“So perfect for us,” Bob says, matching his thrusts to how John was rubbing your clit. It feels too good to hear him say that. There’s something in the way he says us, the way his grip tightens on your waist… it makes you want to lose your mind.  There was no holding on any longer, so you let go. 

“I–” You start but cut yourself off with a guttural cry, as your climax rips through you. It’s like you're on fire with how the pleasure overcomes you. Your hip stutter against John’s hand, as your walls quiver around Bob’s cock. 

The feeling of you orgasming around him became too much for him to bear, sending Bob into his own.

Bob finishes inside of you, his breath ragged as he buries his face in your neck, holding you tight as the last waves of his release shudder through him.

Your chest is heaving with effort and aftershocks, your body trembling, but this wasn’t over.

Not even close.

They're nowhere near done with you. You can feel it, see it in their eyes.

And when John leans in again, lips brushing your ear, voice low and wrecked with want, he murmurs, “Hope you weren’t planning on sleeping yet…”

They could and would go all night long.

***

The next morning, you wake up tangled in their embrace again, and you're happy.

Sore, thoroughly exhausted, slightly disoriented... but happy.

Your bedroom, however, looks like it barely survived the night—mirrors broken, half the headboard gone, and a John-shaped hole in the wall. You're honestly surprised anything’s still intact, especially the bed frame, though it gives a warning creak when you shift to slide out from under the pile of limbs.

You stretch, muscles aching in that oddly satisfying way, and glance back at the bed.

John’s arm is slung over Bob’s waist, both of them blissfully asleep. Hair messy, skin littered with red marks—some from you, some from each other. You can’t help the little smile that tugs at your lips.

You didn’t quite know what this made the three of you now, but there was time to figure it out.

Eventually.

For now? This felt like a damn good place to start.

Masterlist

[classyrbf]

ᯓ★ BETTER THAN YOUR BOYFRIEND! — JJK MEN

SYNOPSIS...what happens when your boyfriend cheats on you and you look towards your best friend for help

INFO...jjk men (toji, gojo, geto, nanami) x fem!reader, reader gets cheated on, riding, sending a video to your ex, oral (f!receiving), car sex, kinda cute/some fluff in the beginning, pet names (doll, princess, baby, sweetheart), creampie, possessiveness, choking, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

ᯓ★ TOJI

When you showed up on Toji’s doorstep in the middle of the night with tears pouring down your face he was more than ready to kill whoever made your cry. He wasn’t surprised when you told him your shitty boyfriend had cheated on you and not with just one girl but multiple. Toji never liked your boyfriend, he could tell that guy was up no to good from the start, reading him like a book. He’d be sure to beat the shit out of him once he helped you gain composure.

“I’m sorry for showing up so late,” you hiccuped as he wiped your tears.

“Don’t worry about it, doll. You know I’m always here for you.” He gave you a soft smile. Toji hated to see you this way, you were too pretty to be crying over some guy who looked like he crawled from the sewers. “That guy was a piece of shit. You deserve better.”

“But, every guy I’ve been with or tried to be with has done me so wrong!” It only made more tears spill from your eyes. Toji engulfed you in a hug, rubbing your back. “Toji?” You sniffled.

“Yeah?” He pulled away from you, wiping your tears again.

“Kiss me. Right now,” you demanded. You had to see for yourself if what you’ve been feeling these last couple of weeks was absolutely true. Toji had zero clue, but you’ve been thinking about him way too much, more than a best friend should, feeling more than a best friend should. And when he planted his lips on yours, cupping your face, kissing you like a starved man, you didn’t quite expect your tears of sadness to be turned into tears of pleasure.

“Nnngh, Toji!” You moaned, his fat tip rubbing against your g-spot with each thrust of his hips. Your arms clung around his neck, fingers resting in his black silky hair.

“Can’t—mmm, fuck—believe he’d cheat on you! His fucking loss!” He growled in your ear, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist, hugging you close to him. Your pussy clenched down around him, milking him for his every worth, juices dripping down his length and onto his balls. “So tight, doll—oh shit!” He grunted. Lewd sounds of his balls slapping against your ass filled the room, echoing off the walls around you. “Been wanting you forever, craving you.”

Your brows furrow in pleasure, barely able to contain your moans as you and Toji stare into each others eyes. “M-me too!” You whimper, nodding your head at him. You lips messily interlock, tongue gliding against one another, swallowing each others moans.

“Let’s show him what he’s missing, baby.” He smirks, reaching for your phone on the couch. His thrusts come to a stop, clicking on your now ex boyfriend’s contact and opening the camera to record a video. “Go nice and slow for me,” he says huskily.

Slowly, you move your hips up and down his thick shaft, whimpering when you feel him throb against your walls. Toji angles the camera up, a devious look in his eye. He moves it back down when you start to move faster, you sloppy pussy squelching when you slam your hips down on his. Toji slaps your ass a few times before grabbing it, guiding your hips to go slower once again. “That’s it, doll. Good fucking girl,” he lowly chuckles in your ear. Toji ends the video, sending it and tossing the phone to the side.

“I can’t believe we actually did that,” you giggle, biting down on your lip. Not even one minute passed before your phone began ringing, vibrating on the couch but you were too busy getting your brains fucked out to even notice. “Ah, you’re so deep,” you mewl, the curve of his dick making your back arch.

“Better get used to it cause we won’t be stopping anytime soon.” He placed a wet kiss on your neck, sloppily thrusting into your poor pussy. “You’re my girl now.” He’s slamming your hips back down on his cock, fucking you deeply, making sure every inch of him is coated in your juices. He quickly pulls out, jerking his cock before thick globs of cum coat your skin before he’s inserting himself back inside your dripping entrance. Neither of you noticing the five missed calls and fifteen unread texts from your ex.

ᯓ★ GOJO

As soon as you called Gojo crying, he basically teleported to your house. When he learned that your boyfriend had cheated on you and you kicked him out, he was the least bit shocked. For the past month you’ve told Gojo that your boyfriend has been acting off, and finally the truth came to light.

“I’m so sorry,” he frowned, rubbing the top of your head as you cried into his chest. It hurt Gojo to see you like this, constantly seeing you get hurt by these shitty guys who didn’t know any better. He had a massive crush on for the longest time and he’s always been afraid to say anything. He’d treat you better, treat you the way you’ve always deserved.

“I just don’t it, Toru! Is it me? Did I do something wrong?” You frowned.

“No, no! It’s not you all! You’re absolutely perfect. He’s a fucking asshole for not seeing that sooner. You’re kind, funny, smart, and beautiful. You’re everyone’s dream girl, y/n.” It may have sounded like he was only trying to be nice, but in reality he was speaking from his heart.

“Awe, Toru, thank you,” you giggled through your tears. Gojo looked at you few seconds, the most sincere expression written on his face.

So how, in only a few minutes, did he make you go from giggling to moaning like bitch in heat?

“Feel better, princess?” He mumbles against your cunt, sucking on your swollen and sensitive clit. “Please tell me you feel better,” he whines.

“Toru—mmph! What’s—ah! Oh my god!” He slides his long, slender fingers into your sopping hole, pumping them in and out, curling them up slightly. Your jaw falls slack at the way his tongue expertly explores your folds, licking up every last drop of your essence. Your hand clings to his fluffy white hair, his hands pushing your legs open each time they threat to close around his head.

“Taste so good, princess. Just like I imagined—mmm,” he moans at your delectable taste, ignoring the way your squirming in his hold and clenching around his fingers as your second orgasm approaches. His captivating eyes flutter open to look at you, watching the way you lose yourself on his tongue. He could tell your boyfriend—ex boyfriend has never pleasured you like this before, let alone made you cum.

“Fuck!” You gasp. “Feels so good—hah, shit! Toruuu!” You cry out, legs quivering when the tip of his tongue runs back and forth over your clit.

“Promise me something, yeah?” He moves his fingers in and out of your sloppy hole slowly, bringing you right on the edge. “Be mine? I’ll treat you so good, princess. Been wanting to for the longest time, god, you’re so fucking perfect. Please?” He presses soft kisses to your thighs that make your breath hitch.

“You’re confessing now?!” You chuckle, trying to catch your breath.

Gojo smiles up at you. “Is that a yes?” He quirks a brow. He presses the pads of his fingers against your g-spot massaging slowly.

“Ah,” you bite down on your lip, “you’re no fair!” You run your fingers through his hair. “It’s a yessssuhh.” You’re barely able to get the word out before he dips his head between your legs again, his wet tongue circling your clit. “Shit, shit, shit, I’m cumming again!” Your head is thrown back as your entire body shakes with pleasure.

“Thank you, princess,” Gojo murmurs.

ᯓ★ NANAMI

Nanami noticed you haven’t been yourself for the past couple of days and he didn’t dare to ask but he had a feeling it had something to do with that obnoxious and egotistical boyfriend of yours. It always had something to do with him no matter what. He didn’t think of it when you asked him if you can come over and watch a movie, but not even five minutes in the door you start explaining everything. You didn’t cry, just talked and talked about it, venting about the situation. He was glad to be an ear. He’ll always be here to help.

“I’m just so frustrated and I hate feeling this way!” You rolled your eyes.

“Maybe you need to deal with it in other ways rather than venting,” he suggested.

“Like what? Drinking my problems away? I’d rather not.” You shook your head, waving your hand in dismissal.

What didn’t cross your mind was the fact your best friend was talking about having you bent over, fucking you into the mattress. “K-Ken! F-fuck!” Your eyes squeeze shut when he thrusts his hips harder, the tip of his swollen cock pressing into your sweet spot.

His thick fingers squeeze into your plush skin, pulling you back onto his cock. He leans over next to your ear, breath fanning against your skin sweaty skin. “He doesn’t know how to handle a woman like you. Not like I do.” He peppers kisses down your back, a contrast of you screaming his name.

Your walls squeeze around him at his words, your pussy somehow growing wetter than it already was, creating a sloppy and sticky mess where you two met. Your hands grasped the sheets below. “Yes, Ken, handle me, show me you can handle me!” You grit your teeth, looking back at him.

A feral growl escapes his throat, blonde hair clinging to his sweaty forehead. He reaches a hand down, grabbing a fistful of your hair and pushes your head into the mattress, the sound of skin to skin slapping against each other growing constant as he fucks your hard and deep with such a grueling pace. “I can handle you, sweetheart,” he chuckles deeply. “Better than your boyfriend.” He licks his lips.

“Mmm—ah, yes!” You laugh with a smile. “Ex.” You’re quick to correct.

“Who gives a fuck what he is—hah, shit, sweetheart, gripping me so damn tight.” He’s so focused on the way your ass ripples against his hips, addicted to how warm and wet your cunt is. It was hypnotizing. Your jaw hung open, eyes rolled back, drool spilling from the corner of your mouth and onto the bed below you. Each rut of his hips had you going stupid, barely able to think.

Successfully, you can say that his method of dealing with your problems has worked better than you could’ve imagined. “Feel so good inside me! Don’t stop!” You cry out, voice wavering. The stretch of his cock against your gummy walls had you craving more. So much more to the point you wanted to feel all of him. “Cum in me.” You’re bitting down your lip so hard you’re afraid you’ll draw blood.

Those three words have Nanami’s eyes wide in excitement. His body runs hot, your words making the blood rush straight to his pulsating cock. “D-don’t say stuff—mmph—like that,” he grunts.

“I thought you could handle me?” You’re smirking, playing with fire. His rough hands grip onto your hips harder, hard enough to leave bruises. Each thrust of his ragged hips shoots bolts of pleasure through your core.

His brows furrow in concentration, grunts and growls mixing in with your moans as his abs tense up, body jolting forward as his sloppily thrusts into your greedy hole. “I can handle you better than anyone else and you know it!” His hand swats your ass, a loud smack cracking in the air. “Nngh, shit!” Before he knows it, his tip kisses your cervix, pulling you back on his cock as his hot cum paints your walls.

ᯓ★ GETO

When you told Geto about your boyfriend cheating on you, he knew you’d needed to be comforted despite what you said. So he planned a day just for you to do your favorite things in attempts to take your mind off of things, but he could see that you were still thinking about it deep down. The both of you sat in the car, watching over the city lights while music quietly played on the radio. The orange sunset casted a hue over the world, shining brightly.

“I’m sorry I just can’t get it out of my head.” You pout, fiddling with your fingers. “I appreciate you doing this, Suguru.”

“Of course, y/n. It’s the least I could do.” He gave a half smile, caressing your back.

“It just keeps replaying over and over in my head,” you shut your eyes, “I hate it. Nothing takes my mind off of it no matter what!” You ran your hand over your face, slouching in the passenger seat.

“Well, there’s something we haven’t tried yet.” Geto raised a brow, shrugging his shoulders.

“What?” You asked, confused.

Minutes later your knees are to your chest, the sheer force of his hips rocking your body into the seat of the car. Strands from his messy bun cling to his forehead, sweat dripping between the divots of his abs. His calloused hand presses down on your lower abdomen, the pad of his thumb reaching down to rub your neglected clit. “Sugu!” You cry out, tears pricking the corner of your eyes.

The car shakes with his feral and animalistic thrusts, the curve of his cock finding your sweet spot, knocking the breath out of you. You’re panting and gasping, clawing at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. “Come on, baby, you can do it.” His lips quirk up into a smirk, his hand reaching out, slipping his fingers into your mouth to suck on. “Let it all go for me.” He moves at a rapid pace, your eyes rolling back and your body going limp, hands falling to your sides.

He removes his fingers from your mouth, his hands gliding down to your throat, fingers ghosting over your skin before he carefully wraps his hand around it, gripping it firmly. “I’ll make you forget everything about him. You want that, don’t you? Fill that pretty little head of yours with nothing else but me.” His sultry words send shivers down your spine. A devilish chuckle escapes from him when he feels you flutter around his throbbing length. “Nnngh,” he plants a wet kiss on your jaw, “cum for me.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m cumming!” You scream, eyes widening at the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. “Yes, yes!” You squeal, legs shaking as he continues to rub your clit, dragging every last bit of your orgasm out of you.

His heavy balls slap against your ass at a rough pace, threatening to spill his seed inside of you. “Want to mark you, show that asshole who you’ve always belonged to!” Sinful eyes stare back at you.

Fat tears roll down your cheeks. “I’m yours! I’m y-yours! Ahh!” He puts more pressure on your clit, your body jolting, squirming beneath him.

“Hah, fuck, baby!” He moans, jaw falling open as he tosses his head back. He clenches his jaw, grunting as he keeps the same fervent tempo. He watches the way your filthy pussy clings to him so tightly, your juices forming a ring at the base of his cock, creating a sticky, slimy mess. His thrusts grow hasty, hungry for his orgasm, itching to see you coated in his cum.

He bullies his cock into your cunt, snarling and moaning at how rapidly his orgasm was nearing. He pulled out of you with a drawn out moan and instinctively your soft hand wrapped around his cock, pumping him until you felt warm cum drip onto your stomach.

[seongwars]

Word Count: 497 Warnings: yandere!Caleb, dad!Caleb, dash of fluff, hints of breeding kink, baby trapping and coercion, 2 swear words, mention of pregnancy, not proofread Summary: Caleb comes home from another expedition

a/n: I had to take a break from writing strangers by nature because i was making myself sad so uhh here's a caleb drabble

“Daddy’s home!”

Your four year old jumped up from his Legos, bolting to the door with your chubby toddler hot on his heels. The front door creaked open just in time for Caleb to brace himself as the boys launched into his arms.

It wasn’t easy, being the wife of the fleet’s colonel. Caleb’s expeditions often kept him away for weeks at a time, leaving you to hold down the fort with your two boys and the endless chaos they brought with them.

But moments like this made it all worth it. Seeing the way the boys lit up as they reunited with their father made all the waiting worth it. Not to mention the nasty, sloppy, back bending, toe curling, eye rolling, reunion sex–hence your five month baby bump.

Despite the exhaustion etched into his features, Caleb still made time for all of you. He was the kind of man who wouldn’t miss a parent teacher conference, who insisted on reading every bedtime story no matter how tired he was. 

On Saturday mornings, he’d stand in the kitchen, attempting to make dinosaur shaped pancakes while the boys watched in awe.

“Daddy, how do you do that?” your four year old learned forward on the counter with his elbows. Beside him, your two-year-old waved his chubby hands in the air, babbling his own version of the question.

“It’s all in the flick of the wrist, buddy,” Caleb grinned, flipping the pancake. 

Sometimes the “dinosaur” ended up looking more like a blob, but to the boys, it was nothing short of magic. They clapped and cheered as Caleb plated his creation, declaring it a Whateversaurus Rex or the dinosaur of the day as conjured by your husband. 

And so, yes, you’d let this man keep you pregnant. How could you not? Every time you thought about saying no, about maybe slowing down and letting your body recover between pregnancies, he’d look at you with those adoring puppy eyes and pull you into his strong arms, leaving you utterly undone.

But you didn’t notice the way his eyes darkened when you said yes again, or the way his touch lingered just a second too long on the curve of your belly. To you, it was devotion, a husband marveling at the miracle of life, his love for you and your growing family. 

But to him, it was victory.

Because Caleb wasn’t just a loving husband. He was a man who refused to let you slip through his fingers. The thought of you walking away, of a life where you weren’t his in every sense of the word, was unthinkable.  

Everytime he had you folded into a mating press murmuring “just one more for me, baby" he was ensuring that you stayed right where you belonged—bound to him in every possible way as he fucked his seed over and over into your cunt.

You belonged to him. And he’d make sure it stayed that way forever.

[pascalissmoked]

Sweeter Than Summer

Summary: It starts with helping Sarah. It ends with her dad looking at you like he can’t breathe without you. Soft smiles, stolen glances—until it’s not so soft anymore. Word Count: 8K Warnings: fluff, age gap (reader is 22 and joel is in his mid 30s), joel being the hot neighbor and a frienc od your dad's, tommy being a little shit to his older brother, team plotting from sarah and her uncle, blood (not gory though), joel not knowing how to take care of Sarah becoming a woman, food consumption, nervous!joel, texas!joel, no outbreak!joel, unprotected sex, A/N: I kinda let myself go with this one. But you can never have too much of dilf!joel anyway. I hope you enjoy xx

Sweat clung to your skin like a second layer, tracing hot trails from your neck to the hollow of your collarbone. Texas, in the dead of summer, had become less of a state and more of a furnace—an open-mouthed oven blasting dry, merciless heat at everything that dared to live in it. No breeze, no shade, not even the patchy ceiling fans in your father’s house could fight it off.

So you escaped to the only place with the illusion of relief: your old man’s rust-bitten Ford truck. The air conditioning groaned like an old man with bad knees, struggling to push out even a whisper of cold. Mostly, it just wheezed in competition with the faint melody of Avril Lavigne’s Complicated playing from a scratched-up CD.

That CD had been a gift from Sarah—the wild-hearted twelve-year-old next door with a halo of curls and a grin full of mischief. She’d handed it to you like it was treasure, wrapped in a scrap of pink paper with your name spelled in glitter pen. Babysitting her had started off as a favor, a quick yes when your father mentioned that Joel Miller—Sarah’s dad—needed someone to help out now and then. You’d barely met Joel, only knew that he worked with his hands, often gone at odd hours, and that he carried the kind of quiet sadness you didn’t ask questions about.

You were a high school senior back then, just counting days until freedom. But somehow, that little girl made you want to stay.

Your evenings slowly stitched themselves into a patchwork of Disney marathons, popcorn burned in the microwave, Sarah’s giggles echoing through the halls of the Miller house. She’d curl up beside you, head resting on your shoulder like a sleepy kitten, cookies half-eaten and forgotten on the table. She became something sacred—a bond, a heartbeat, the closest thing to a sister you’d ever have.

Even after you left for college, you kept coming back. Not out of duty, but because her tiny arms still wrapped around your waist when you walked through the door. Because her eyes still lit up like fireworks when you pressed play on The Little Mermaid. Because somehow, she had become your person.

You leaned back in the cracked leather seat, your legs sticking to it, the AC making a sad attempt at survival. You shut your eyes and let Avril’s voice carry you, half-lost in memory and heat-induced haze, until a sharp knock on the passenger window startled you.

Sarah.

She was grinning, as usual—her curls pulled into a wild ponytail, a Popsicle in one hand, and a look that said she was up to something.

You rolled the window down. “What’s up, bug?”

She climbed in before you could stop her, dragging a wave of hot air in with her. “Dad said we could go get ice cream if you’re up for driving.”

“Did he now?”

“Okay, I might’ve said you were bored and needed to get out. Same thing.”

You shook your head, biting back a smile. She shoved the melting Popsicle into your hand and snapped on her seatbelt with dramatic flair. “Let’s go. Before it gets hotter. I think I saw a squirrel burst into flames on the sidewalk.”

You laughed and turned the key in the ignition. The engine coughed to life, the truck rumbling beneath you like an old beast waking from a nap. You caught sight of Joel on the porch as you pulled away—arms crossed, watching with that unreadable expression he always wore. You gave him a two-fingered wave. He nodded once, and that was enough.

Sarah chattered all the way to the ice cream place, asking about college, about whether you had a boyfriend yet (she asked this every time), and whether she’d be tall enough to ride the big coasters at the state fair this year. You let her talk, let her words fill the space like music.

When you finally parked in front of the ice cream shop, the sun had started dipping low, turning the sky into a hazy peach-orange watercolor.

Inside, the cool air hit like salvation. Sarah ran to the counter, already debating between cotton candy and cookie dough. You trailed behind more slowly, letting the change in temperature settle over your skin like a blessing.

As you waited, your phone buzzed in your pocket. A message from your dad:

“Joel asked if you’ll be home later. Said he could use help with something at the house.”

You stared at the screen for a second longer than you needed to. Joel didn’t ask for help. Not unless he meant it.

“What’s wrong?” Sarah looked up from her ice cream conquest.

You smiled. “Nothing. Just your dad being mysterious.”

She rolled her eyes. “He’s always mysterious. He builds things all day and listens to music no one understands.”

“Sounds like someone I know,” you teased.

“I’m not mysterious,” she said, scooping her choice—cookie dough, of course—into a bowl. “I’m an open book.”

You paid for the treats and led her outside to a metal bench half in the shade. The breeze had picked up slightly. It carried the scent of pavement, crepe myrtles, and something else—something you couldn’t quite name. Something shifting.

The sun was beginning to slip behind the rooftops by the time you and Sarah returned to the Miller house, both of you sticky from melted ice cream and heat. The air had that golden hue of a Texas evening—dust motes glowing in the sunlight, cicadas beginning their slow song. The drive back from the ice cream shop had been quiet, but not in a bad way. Sarah had rolled the window down and was humming absently to herself between licks of her cone. You stole glances at her in the rearview mirror. She looked tired but content, her face a little flushed, her curls sticking to her temples.

You knew something had shifted. She’d been quieter than usual on the ride back, a little distracted. Not sad, just somewhere far off in her head. You didn’t push it. You’d learned a long time ago that Sarah always circled back in her own time.

When you pulled into the driveway, Joel was out front, leaning against the porch rail with his arms folded, like he’d been waiting. He looked up as the truck came to a stop, one brow lifting slightly in a kind of wordless check-in. You gave him a nod, just enough to say she’s okay.

Sarah climbed out of the truck slowly and stretched. “I’m gonna shower,” she mumbled, already heading toward the front door.

“You eat dinner?” Joel called after her.

“Ice cream counts!” she shouted back, disappearing into the house.

Joel huffed something like a laugh, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He scratched the back of his neck, eyes still on the screen door even after it swung shut behind her.

You shut the truck door and walked over to him. “Everything alright?”

He looked at you then, really looked. Not with panic, exactly, but something close. Hesitation. Worry. Maybe a little guilt.

“You got a minute?” he asked. “Need to run something by you.”

You nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

Joel gestured toward the backyard with a jerk of his chin. The porch boards creaked beneath his boots as you followed him through the kitchen and out the back door, into the thick, humid air. The sun was low now, bleeding orange across the fence line. Crickets had started up in the grass, and you could hear a neighbor’s sprinkler ticking faintly in the distance.

Joel didn’t speak for a while. He stood with his hands on his hips, staring out across the yard like it might offer him a script to read from. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and a little rough around the edges.

“Found somethin’ earlier,” he said. “In the bathroom. A, uh… towel. One of hers. Had blood on it…”

“Oh,” you said, gently. “Her period.”

He nodded, cheeks reddening, clearly trying to keep his voice level. “Yeah. That. She didn’t say a damn word to me. Just shoved a towel in the laundry like nothin’ happened and then asked if she could go out for ice cream. And I remembered… her mom used to—well, she always wanted something sweet on her bad days, so…”

You felt your chest warm. Not from the heat. From him. From this big, quiet man who looked like he could wrestle a bear but stood there now like a deer in headlights, wringing his hands over his little girl.

“She’s twelve,” he added, like that somehow made it more tragic. “I don’t… I didn’t grow up with sisters. Only Tommy. We were a disaster even on good days. I don’t know what to say, or how to—hell, I don’t even know what kind of… supplies she’s supposed to use.”

He fell quiet again, then sighed, long and slow. “I didn’t know who to call. I almost called Tommy, but you know, he’s as useless as I am when it comes to this kinda thing. So… I figured, maybe you’d know.”

There was something in the way he said it—maybe you’d know—that felt less like a request and more like a quiet surrender. Like this was his way of admitting he was scared, and he didn’t know how to say it out loud.

You stepped closer, your voice soft. “You did the right thing, Joel. Giving her space, getting her out of the house. That was smart.”

“She didn’t even tell me,” he muttered. “That’s what kills me. She used to come to me for everything. Now she’s just—dealing with it by herself. Like she had to.”

“She’s twelve,” you said gently. “She’s embarrassed. Doesn’t know how to talk about it. Maybe she’s scared you’ll think she’s different now.”

Joel blinked at that. “Why the hell would I think that?”

“Because that’s what girls worry about when they start this. That people will treat them differently. That their body’s changing and it makes things weird.”

He didn’t answer right away. His eyes were on the fence again. “Her mom used to say stuff like that. About how she hated how people treated her like she was fragile just ’cause she was bleeding.”

There was a rawness in his voice that hadn’t been there before. Not just nervousness—grief, too. That quiet, familiar ache of someone trying to parent without the other half of the puzzle.

“I’ll take her to the store tomorrow,” you said. “We’ll get her what she needs—pads, whatever she’s comfortable with. Maybe some tea. And chocolate. That always helps.”

Joel nodded slowly, like each word you said was another burden taken off his shoulders. “Thank you.”

You hesitated, then placed your hand lightly on his arm. “She’s not trying to shut you out. She’s just figuring it out in the only way she knows how.”

He looked at you then, really looked—tired, grateful, full of a quiet kind of worry that had nowhere to go.

“I feel like I’m messin’ it all up,” he admitted, so low you barely heard it.

“You’re not.”

“You sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure.”

A long silence settled between you. The kind that wasn’t awkward, just full. Full of the things left unsaid, of the weight of love and responsibility and the kind of fear that comes with being someone’s whole world.

Joel rubbed a hand over his face and huffed a short laugh. “You must think I’m pathetic.”

“I think you’re doing your best,” you said. “And that’s more than a lot of kids get.”

He let out a breath, slow and steady. Then, after a pause: “You’re good with her.”

“I love her,” you said. “She’s like a little sister to me.”

Joel looked at you again—something unreadable in his expression. Maybe surprise. Maybe something else.

“I’m real glad you’re still around,” he said quietly.

You smiled. “Me too.”

From inside the house, Sarah called out, “Are we watching a movie or what?”

Joel didn’t take his eyes off you, but there was something softer in them now. Something unguarded.

“I guess we’d better get in there,” he said.

“Yeah,” you said, letting your hand fall from his arm. “Before she starts without us.”

It was the first time you'd stayed this late at the Miller house. Usually, your evenings with Sarah ended around sunset—movie paused, cookies half-eaten, Joel pulling into the driveway with dust on his jeans and tired thanks in his eyes. But this time, things were different.

Sarah had asked you to stay. She’d clung to your arm, eyes wide and wheedling, and Joel, surprisingly, had said yes.

“I mean… if it’s no trouble,” he’d added, rubbing the back of his neck, trying not to meet your eyes.

You’d said it wasn’t. And you meant it.

Now, the three of you were gathered in the living room. The lights were dimmed, the TV humming with the opening credits of Holes. Sarah had insisted on it—“It’s a classic, don’t even argue”—and had spread every pillow and blanket she could find across the floor like a DIY fort.

She was nestled into the middle of it, legs tucked under her, one of Joel’s flannels hanging off her shoulders. You sat on the edge of the couch, nursing a soda, while Joel took the armchair, one ankle propped lazily over his knee.

The movie started, and for a while, it was all popcorn rustles and Sarah quoting her favorite lines before they even happened. Joel chuckled at her enthusiasm, and you found yourself watching them more than the movie—how Joel’s eyes softened every time Sarah laughed, how she leaned toward you like this was the most natural thing in the world.

Somewhere around the third lizard sighting, Sarah moved to sit on the couch between you and the armrest, leaning against your side like a sleepy cat. You didn’t even notice when her breathing evened out and her head rested on your arm.

Joel noticed though.

His voice came low, amused. “She out?”

You glanced down. “Dead to the world.”

“She’s like her mom that way. Could sleep through a tornado.”

It was the second time he’d mentioned her. His voice was gentle, a little distant, but not painful. Just remembering.

You both sat quietly for a while after that. The soft flicker of the movie lit his face in blues and golds. He looked… peaceful. More relaxed than you’d seen him at those neighborhood barbecues, where he always kept a beer in his hand and one eye on Sarah like he didn’t trust the world not to fall apart.

Now, she was here, asleep beside you. And you were here, beside her.

When the credits finally rolled, Joel stood up slowly, stretching with a soft groan.

“I’ll carry her,” he said, and you nodded.

He moved carefully, gently scooping her up in his arms. She stirred just enough to murmur your name and Joel’s, then went limp again against his chest.

You watched them disappear down the hallway, the quiet creak of her bedroom door closing like the final note in a lullaby.

When he returned, he found you curled up on the couch, clearly half-asleep yourself.

Joel stood there for a moment, just watching you.

He thought about waking you. He really did.

But then he sighed, rubbed a hand over his jaw, and muttered, “Alright then.”

A few minutes later, he was spreading a clean blanket over you in his room and stacking an extra pillow beside your head. He lingered there, eyes soft, before turning off the light and closing the door behind him.

The smell of coffee nudged you awake before sunlight did. For a few seconds, you lay still, half-dreaming, until the stiff cotton sheets and unfamiliar quiet reminded you—this wasn’t your bed. It was Joel's.

You blinked at the wooden beams above you, the smell of frying bacon drifting in through a barely-cracked door. Joel's room was neat but lived-in. The flannel shirt hanging off the bedpost, the guitar case by the closet, the worn boots by the door—it all felt very him.

You sat up slowly, pushing hair out of your face, squinting toward the hallway. It felt intimate in here. Like you were somewhere you weren't quite supposed to be. And yet, the warmth in your chest told a different story.

The floorboards creaked softly as you padded toward the kitchen, feet bare and cautious. Joel stood at the stove, t-shirt wrinkled, hair a little messier than usual. He was flipping bacon, one hand holding a spatula, the other nursing a coffee cup.

He turned when he heard you, and for just a second, there was something caught in his expression. Not surprise. Something softer.

"Mornin'," he said, voice low and a little scratchy.

"You gave me your bed?"

Joel shrugged, turning back to the stove. "You were out cold. Didn’t wanna wake you. Couch ain’t so bad."

You glanced over at the couch, then back at him. "That couch is shaped like a capital 'L'. No way your back's okay."

He smirked, sliding bacon onto a paper towel. "I'm tougher than I look."

You raised an eyebrow, settling onto a stool by the counter. "You mean grumpier."

Before Joel could reply, Sarah wandered in like a hurricane with the battery drained. She wore a hoodie zipped halfway and socks slipping down her heels. Her face was twisted in dramatic agony.

"It feels like a war zone in my gut," she moaned.

Joel tensed. "You need Tylenol? Heating pad?"

"I need ice cream," Sarah said. Then her eyes landed on you. "You're still here?"

You smiled. "Yep. Joel gave me his bed."

Sarah blinked. Then grinned like she’d just won a prize at the fair. "Ooooh."

Joel, behind her, quietly muttered, "Sarah."

She leaned in close to you like you were co-conspirators. "Did you sleep in, like, his bed? Like with the plaid sheets and the pillow that smells like sawdust and... man soap?"

You tried not to laugh. "That very one."

Sarah's eyes glittered. "I knew it! Dad always acts weird around you."

Joel nearly choked on his coffee. "Alright, that's enough. Go sit down."

Sarah plopped onto the couch, cradling a heating pad Joel must have already warmed up for her. Despite her cramps, she looked content. Radiant, even. You noticed her eyes drifting shut, the tiniest smile playing at her lips.

"We should probably go grab her a few things," you murmured to Joel.

He gave a quiet nod. "She said she used the last pad yesterday. I just... didn’t wanna get the wrong thing. Didn’t know there were fifty types."

You touched his arm lightly. "We’ll take care of it."

Just then, the back door creaked open with that familiar screech that only old hinges and a Miller brother could make.

"Hope I’m not too late for bacon," Tommy called, strolling in like he owned the place. He wore his Sunday-best version of casual: jeans, a button-up rolled to the elbows, and a grin that could get him out of any ticket.

Sarah brightened at the sound. "Uncle Tommy!"

"Hey, sweetheart," he beamed, ruffling her curls gently. "Heard you had a bit of a rough morning."

She held up a thumbs-up from under her blanket. "I’m surviving. Thanks to the ice cream and the guest star who stayed overnight."

Tommy's eyebrows shot up, and he turned to look at you, then Joel. "Guest star, huh?"

Joel stiffened where he stood. "She crashed after the movie. I gave her the bed."

Tommy leaned on the counter, eyes twinkling. "Your bed?"

Sarah giggled. "With the plaid sheets and the soap smell and everything!"

Joel let out a breath like he was trying not to combust. "Can y’all stop announcin' that to the whole neighborhood?"

Tommy laughed, clearly enjoying himself. "I’m just sayin’—breakfast smells like affection, and you’ve got your flannel lookin’ a little less grumpy today."

"She’s good with Sarah," Joel said gruffly, pouring another cup of coffee. "That’s all."

"Sure," Tommy said, nodding slowly. "And the way you’re hovering near her like a guard dog in flannel, that’s also ‘just good with Sarah’?" he whispered.

Joel shot him a warning glance, but Tommy only grinned wider.

"Uncle Tommy," Sarah said sweetly, suddenly conspiratorial, "do you think Dad has a crush?"

Joel nearly dropped his mug. You buried your face in your hands, laughing helplessly.

Tommy gasped theatrically. "Sarah! I think you might be right. Look at that blush—he’s turning redder than my truck!"

Joel groaned. "Jesus Christ, I should’ve stayed in bed."

"Too bad someone else was in it," Tommy teased.

Joel turned to you, his voice dry. "You wanna take her to the store now? Might be safer."

You, still laughing, nodded. "Before Sarah starts handing out wedding invitations."

Sarah waved a hand from the couch. "Too late, I already made a vision board."

Tommy threw his head back, howling. Joel just stared at the ceiling like it might open up and swallow him whole.

You grabbed your bag, still chuckling, and gestured to Sarah. "C’mon, let’s get you the fancy kind of pain relief. Maybe even a heating pad shaped like a llama."

Sarah sprang up with unexpected energy. "This is why you’re my favorite."

Joel muttered, "You weren’t sayin’ that when I was up at 2 a.m. gettin’ you ice water."

She kissed his cheek and skipped toward the door.

As the two of you left, you heard Tommy say behind you, "You know, I really am happy for you, big brother. But I’m gonna keep messin’ with you just the same."

Joel replied with a grunt, but his voice, softer now, said more than his words ever could.

He was grateful.

And he was in trouble.

The store's fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead as you and Sarah wandered down the aisle lined with shelves full of period products. The “feminine care” section was a riot of pastel colors, cryptic labels, and brands that somehow managed to sound both comforting and clinical.

Sarah stared up at them, arms crossed, mouth slightly open. "Okay, so... what's the difference between ultra-thin and ultra-thin with wings? Is it, like, flying powers?"

You snorted. "No flying powers, sadly. The wings just help keep things in place."

"Disappointing," she said with a sigh. "I was hoping for at least a little magic."

You crouched to scan the lower shelves. "Do you want the same kind you had last time, or do you wanna try something different?"

Sarah shrugged. "Whatever you think’s best. I trust your judgment. You’re clearly a seasoned professional."

You tossed a box into the basket. "The seasoned-est."

Sarah peeked up at you, slyly. "So... speaking of judgment."

You raised an eyebrow. "Uh-huh?"

"Do you like older guys?"

You blinked. "That’s... a jump."

She grinned, clearly proud of herself. "No it’s not. It’s an investigative segue."

You tried to stifle a laugh. "Sarah."

"What? I’m curious! You’re, like, a woman. With... grown-up tastes."

"You’re twelve."

"Exactly! I need mentorship."

You paused, holding a box of heating patches. "Is this about your dad again?"

"I mean, not entirely. But also: yes."

You gave her a look.

"I just think you two would be cute. You both make weirdly good pancakes. And when you were sleeping in his bed, I swear he was, like, standing in the hallway checking if you were still breathing. Like some kind of lumberjack angel."

You put the patches in the basket. "Lumberjack angel?"

"Don’t mock the poetry."

You walked toward the checkout, and she practically skipped after you despite the heating pad she clutched like a teddy bear.

"Okay but seriously—" she continued, lowering her voice dramatically, "—do you think he’s cute? Like, if he didn’t have the whole ‘dad’ thing going on?"

You sighed, amused. "Sarah, I’m not talking about your dad like that."

She smirked. "That means yes."

You gave her a mock glare as the cashier started scanning your items. Sarah, never missing a beat, leaned on the counter like she was discussing secret spy business.

"Also, Uncle Tommy said you could do better. I told him to hush. I think my dad is the best you’re gonna get."

"Wow. Brutal."

"I'm in pain. Let me live."

As you bagged everything up and started walking toward the exit, Sarah looped her arm through yours and leaned against you.

"Thanks for coming with me. It’s way less awkward with you. Dad would’ve had an existential crisis in the tampon aisle."

"I believe it."

"And also... thanks for not making this whole thing a big weird deal. I was really freaked out yesterday. Thought I was dying. You were cool about it."

You softened. "That’s what I’m here for."

She looked up at you, a little more serious now. "And I really hope you end up my stepmom. But, like, the hot kind."

You blinked. "SARAH."

She cackled. "What? Just planting seeds."

Outside, the sun was warm on your face. You shook your head, laughing as you loaded the bags into Joel’s truck.

And somewhere inside that little gremlin of a girl was the biggest heart you’d ever met. Even on her worst day, she was matchmaking and joking and holding your hand.

God help Joel.

He didn’t stand a chance.

The sun was angling low by the time you pulled back into the driveway, the kind of orange Texas glow that made everything look a little too golden and a little too unreal. Sarah was humming to herself in the passenger seat, clutching the drugstore bag like it held state secrets.

You climbed out of the truck, stretching, only to freeze halfway through.

Joel was out front, shirt sticking to his back in the heat, kneeling beside a crooked section of the fence. A small toolbox sat next to him, half-open, nails scattered in neat little rows. His shirt—dark blue and worn—was clinging to his frame in all the right places. Sleeves rolled up past his elbows. Forearms dusted in sawdust.

He looked up as you shut the car door, and for a moment, all you could do was blink.

“Hey,” he called, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead. “Y’all make it okay?”

Sarah jumped out of the truck and held up the bag. “We conquered the period aisle!” she declared, marching proudly inside.

Joel chuckled. “That so?” Then his eyes flicked to you, and something in them softened. “Thanks. For takin’ her.”

You nodded, but your voice caught somewhere in your throat. “Of course.”

He bent back down, hammer in hand, and you stood there a beat too long watching the muscles in his arm flex with each nail he drove in.

It’s just because of what Sarah said, you told yourself. That’s all. She put it in your head.

But that wasn’t entirely true. The man looked like a Calvin Klein ad shot in a lumber yard.

You forced yourself to turn toward the house before your brain made it worse.

Inside, Sarah was already curled up on the couch, heating pad in place, water bottle in hand, victorious and slightly smug.

Joel followed you in not long after, wiping his hands on a rag. He glanced at the clock, then at you.

“You hungry?” he asked. “I was gonna grill a few things for dinner. Nothin’ fancy.”

“Stay!” Sarah added immediately, perking up. “You helped today and you’re, like, family. Dad even makes real food when you’re here. It’s a rare event.”

Joel gave her a look but didn’t argue. His eyes landed on you again. “You’re welcome to. Honestly.”

You smiled. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Joel grilled something—probably out of guilt for the frozen waffles breakfast. It smelled amazing. Burgers, seasoned fries, sliced watermelon, the works. You sat across from Sarah while Joel set everything out. Just as he was bringing over a dish of pickles, the back door swung open.

“Smells like a cookout for three, but I count four plates,” Tommy drawled, letting himself in like he always did. His jeans were too tight, shirt a little too fitted, like he was contractually obligated to flirt with the universe.

Joel gave him a side glance. “Don’t you have a house?”

“Sure do. But yours has food. And company.”

Tommy’s eyes slid to you, and his grin grew. “Well hey there.”

You smiled. “Hi, Tommy.”

Sarah rolled her eyes dramatically. “Don’t even, Uncle Tommy. She’s my best friend.”

Joel muttered, “God help me,” under his breath and passed you the ketchup.

Halfway through dinner, Tommy was in rare form. He elbowed Joel mid-bite. “So. When’s the last time you cooked like this for anyone?”

Joel didn’t look up. “Don’t start.”

“I’m just sayin’. I visit and get leftover chili. She visits and it’s gourmet.”

You were trying to hide your grin behind your water glass.

Tommy pointed his fork at you. “He always gets like this when you’re around. All tense and upright like he’s bein’ evaluated by the food network. You got the man sweating over burger seasoning.”

Joel groaned. “I swear to God, Tommy.”

Sarah giggled. “He did check the grill temp like, five times.”

You caught Joel’s eye. He looked exasperated, but his ears were red. Very red.

Tommy wasn’t done. “You know, Sarah’s got a good eye. She’s not wrong. This whole thing”—he gestured vaguely between you and Joel—“feels domestic.”

“Tommy,” Joel warned.

Sarah added, “We’re basically a sitcom now. One where the hot dad doesn’t know he’s in love.”

Joel dropped his head into his hands.

Tommy raised his glass. “To sitcoms. And slow burns.”

You didn’t know whether to laugh or run.

Joel caught your eye again. And this time, he didn’t look away.

It wasn’t a big party. That had never been your dad’s style. But the backyard looked sweet under the string lights he’d looped between trees, casting a soft gold hue over the old lawn chairs and the fold-out table covered in mismatched paper plates and bowls of chips. A CD player in the corner hummed the tunes of old country and early 2000s radio hits, the kind your dad thought “young people liked.”

You’d just turned 22. Most of your college friends were scattered across the state—too far to make it for a casual Sunday night cookout. So it was just a few neighbors, your dad manning the grill, and a soft breeze that hinted at the edge of summer’s peak.

Joel showed up just as your dad was tending to the barbeque, Sarah at his side, her curls bouncing in a way that made her look like she was floating toward you. She held out a card like it was a trophy.

“Happy birthday!” she beamed. “I made you a masterpiece.”

You laughed and took it carefully. The card was covered in glitter and tiny doodles: a birthday cake, a sparkly dinosaur wearing sunglasses, and a poorly drawn but heartfelt portrait of you, her, and Joel standing under a rainbow.

“I love it,” you said, genuinely. “I’m framing it.”

“Good,” she grinned. “It took me forty-five minutes and three glitter glue explosions.”

Behind her, Joel gave you a small smile. He was in a dark gray button-down rolled to the elbows and jeans that didn’t look new, but still somehow looked good. Really good. You’d never seen him dressed like this—like he tried, just a little. He was holding a six-pack of Shiner Bock and a small rectangular gift wrapped in brown paper and string.

"Happy birthday," he said, voice quieter. “Didn’t know what to get, so…”

He handed you the gift and scratched at the back of his neck.

You gave him a curious smile as you took it. “Should I open it now?”

He shrugged. “Up to you.”

You peeled back the paper. Inside was a well-worn copy of To Kill a Mockingbird. The corners were softened from age, and the inside cover had a note in Joel’s neat, deliberate handwriting:

“You mentioned this was your favorite once. Figured you should have a version that’s seen a few years too. —J”

For a moment, the backyard went quiet around you—music, chatter, all of it faded. You looked up and met his eyes. Warm. Kind. Embarrassed, maybe. But also something else. Like he saw you in a way that you hadn’t let yourself imagine too much.

“Thank you,” you said, and meant it more than he probably realized.

Sarah was watching the two of you with her arms crossed, smirking. “You two are so obvious.”

Joel cleared his throat and turned toward the food table. “Burgers should be ready soon.”

You followed, your cheeks flushed.

Later, after burgers and sides and Sarah’s overenthusiastic attempts to pin the tail on the inflatable donkey, which your dad found hilarious, the grill was cooling and the sky was a bruised violet. You were inside the kitchen, trying to find a knife that wasn’t dull to slice the birthday cake. Your dad had disappeared, muttering something about “checking the propane line,” which you were 99% sure was code for “giving you space.”

Joel came in behind you with a tray of empty cups. “Need a hand?”

You turned, knife in one hand, cake staring back at you. “Yeah. Unless you wanna watch me murder this thing.”

He smirked, stepping beside you. Close. His shoulder brushed yours as he reached for a stack of plates.

“What kind of cake is this, anyway?” he asked, leaning just enough to read the label on the box.

“Chocolate with strawberry filling. Sarah picked it out. Said it was ‘romantic birthday vibes.’”

Joel laughed softly. “That girl’s gonna run a matchmaking business one day.”

“She already is. We’re just her test subjects.”

You looked up to find him looking down, his eyes flicking to your mouth just for a second. Just a second—but it was enough to knock the air sideways in your lungs.

You turned back to the cake, hoping your hands weren’t shaking. You started to cut, and Joel leaned closer, one hand resting on the counter beside you.

“Need me to steady the plate?” he asked.

Your hands were a little clumsy, distracted by the warmth of him next to you. “Maybe. It’s a two-person job.”

He chuckled, and you could feel the laugh more than hear it—like it buzzed through the space between your arm and his.

Then—

“You guys are standing really close,” Sarah’s voice rang out behind you, making you jump. She was leaning on the doorframe with a smug little grin.

Joel jerked his hand away like he’d been caught stealing.

“I was helping,” he muttered.

“With cake?” Sarah raised an eyebrow.

“Cutting’s an art,” Joel said, deadpan, making her giggle.

You just shook your head and passed her a plate. She skipped off with her prize, leaving you and Joel blinking in the soft hum of the kitchen.

“Thanks,” you said after a beat. “For everything today.”

Joel nodded, still a little red around the ears. “Wasn’t much.”

“It was,” you said. “And the book… I mean it.”

He smiled, shy but genuine. “Glad you liked it.”

And then neither of you moved. The air hung between you like a stretched-out string.

Until Sarah called from outside, “We need cake now!”

Joel exhaled. “Duty calls.”

You followed him out, but something lingered behind in the kitchen—the warmth of him, the nearness, the feeling that this thing between you wasn’t just in your head anymore.

The backyard had emptied. The last of the neighbors had waved their goodbyes. The string lights were still glowing, bugs dancing lazily in their warmth. Your dad had gone to bed after mumbling something about “too many burgers, not enough bourbon,” and the house was quiet now — quiet in a way that left too much room for your thoughts.

You were in the kitchen rinsing out plates, the hem of your party dress damp from leaning too close to the sink, your hands wrinkled and smelling like lemon soap. There was half a chocolate-strawberry cake left, the one Sarah had insisted on, and somehow you couldn’t just toss it.

She would’ve protested. Loudly.

You dried your hands, boxed the leftover slices neatly, and stared at the little pink-and-brown cake box for longer than you needed to.

Your feet moved before you could talk yourself out of it.

It was pushing 10:30, but Joel’s porch light was still on, casting a dim halo around the faded welcome mat. You knocked lightly, the box balanced on your hip.

A few seconds passed. Then the door creaked open.

Joel stood there barefoot in gray sweatpants and a black T-shirt, looking tired in the way only dads could be — soft around the edges but still solid, still present. His hair was tousled, and he looked like he’d only just sat down for the night.

“Hey,” he said, surprised but not unhappy. “Everything alright?”

You held up the cake box like a peace offering. “Didn’t feel right keeping it. Sarah picked it. Thought she might want it.”

He stepped aside, motioning you in. “She would’ve. She’s at Tommy’s tonight, though. Asked to sleep over.”

You paused on the threshold, your heart thudding a little louder. “Oh.”

“Come on in,” Joel said gently. “You sure you’re okay?”

You nodded, stepping inside. The house smelled like clean laundry and cedar. Familiar and warm. Lived-in. You followed him into the kitchen and set the cake down on the counter.

Joel leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. “Long day?”

You smiled faintly. “Fun day. Weird, too. Turning twenty-two in your childhood backyard while your babysitting kid gives you love advice.”

Joel chuckled, eyes crinkling. “Yeah. She’s... somethin’.”

You leaned back on your elbows against the counter. The room was dim — just the small lamp over the sink on — and the silence was comfortable at first. But then it turned charged. He hadn’t moved. Neither had you.

Your gaze drifted. His jaw was stubbled, his hair slightly damp, like maybe he’d just taken a shower. He looked... good. More than good.

You caught him watching you back, just a second too long.

The moment thickened.

“I, uh,” you started, voice catching slightly. “I meant what I said earlier. About the book. It was... really thoughtful.”

Joel looked at you then — really looked — and whatever wall he’d been holding onto, the one made of age difference and neighborly boundaries and the awkwardness of being Sarah’s dad... it cracked.

He pushed off the doorway slowly, walked toward you, stopping just close enough to make your breath hitch.

“I’m glad you liked it,” he said softly.

The space between you was a livewire.

“I keep trying not to think about you like this,” you whispered, voice barely audible.

His jaw tightened — not in anger, but in restraint.

“Me too.”

You didn’t move. Neither did he.

Then — softly, carefully — Joel reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers brushed your cheek, lingered.

“You’re too young for me,” Joel said, the words barely more than a gravel-edged whisper.

You looked up at him, your chest tight, heart thudding in your throat. “I’m not a kid.”

His eyes darkened, like you’d struck a match in the middle of a dry field. He swallowed hard. “I know.”

The silence between you turned into something electric, something living. The only sound was the quiet hum of the fridge and your own uneven breathing.

Joel took a small step forward, just enough to close the last of the space. He stood so close you could see the flecks of gold in his eyes, the faint crease between his brows like he was warring with himself. His hand came up—slow, hesitant—and hovered near your face before he finally gave in and touched you. His thumb skimmed along your jaw, rough fingertips brushing the soft edge of your cheek.

“Been tryin’ real damn hard not to want this,” he said, voice ragged.

Your breath hitched. “Then stop trying.”

That was all it took.

He kissed you.

But it wasn’t soft. It wasn’t tentative. It was weeks, maybe even months of unspoken glances, quiet admiration, long nights with Sarah between you, laughter over coffee, shared space, and now, finally, just the two of you.

His mouth found yours like he’d already dreamed it. His hands were sure now, cupping your face, sliding into your hair, then down—down to your waist, your hips—pulling you flush against him. You made a quiet sound against his mouth and that undid something in him. He groaned, low in his throat, and kissed you deeper, lips parting, tongue brushing yours, slow and deliberate.

You didn’t realize you’d moved until your back hit the counter behind you. His hands braced on either side of you, caging you in but never pressing too hard. Just close. Just real.

You slid your fingers into his hair, damp from a shower or maybe just the heat of the night, tugging lightly. He leaned into your touch, one hand sliding beneath the hem of your shirt at your back—his palm hot against your skin, callused but careful. The contrast made your knees weaken.

When he finally pulled back, he didn’t move far. His forehead rested against yours, his breathing fast, uneven. You could feel his heart pounding through his chest, matching yours like a drumbeat in sync.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he said again, but this time it sounded like a confession. A regret that wasn’t real.

“But you did,” you whispered, lips still tingling, hand still curled into his shirt like you couldn’t let him go just yet.

Joel’s eyes searched yours, something stormy flickering in their depths. “If you stay... if we do this... it ain’t casual for me. You understand that?”

You nodded slowly.

A beat passed. Then another.

His hand slid to your cheek again, and he kissed you once more—slower this time, a kind of reverence in it. His lips pressed to yours like he was trying to memorize the feel of you. Like he didn’t quite believe it was real.

When he pulled back again, there was a trace of a smile at the corner of his mouth. Tired. Hopeful. Hungry.

“You wanna stay?” he asked softly.

You looked at him, really looked. His bare feet on the kitchen floor. His hair mussed. That tiny crease between his brows. The way his eyes had gone soft, all guarded affection and barely restrained want.

“Yeah,” you said. “I do.”

Joel’s breath was still shallow when he stepped back just enough to look at you, like he was double-checking that you were still there, still real. You didn’t let go of him. Your fingers were still hooked into the front of his shirt, still pressing against the solid warmth of him.

His voice was quiet, low and careful. “If we go upstairs…”

“I know what I’m saying yes to,” you interrupted softly.

He hesitated, studying you like you were a question he’d never been brave enough to answer until now. But something in your face, in your voice, seemed to break whatever final restraint he was holding onto.

Joel nodded once.

Wordless, he took your hand.

The walk through the house was quiet, heavy with tension—not the awkward kind, but the kind that hummed in the air like a string pulled taut. Each step up the stairs felt like it carried weight. Anticipation. Choice.

His bedroom door creaked softly as he pushed it open.

In the dim lighting, it felt intimate. Lived-in but not messy. Clean but unpretentious. The scent of him lingered in the space—cedar soap and sawdust, fabric softener and something deeper, something unmistakably Joel.

He turned to face you in the doorway, fingers still twined with yours.

“You still okay?” he asked, voice rough, eyes searching yours like he was afraid to blink and miss something.

“Yes,” you whispered, breathless. “More than okay.”

Joel looked at you for a long moment. Then he leaned in and kissed you again — deeper this time, with more certainty, like the last of his resistance had slipped loose.

Your fingers slid into his hair, tugging gently, and he groaned softly against your mouth. He tasted like something rich and dark and slow. His hands roamed, reverent and careful, touching you like he was trying to learn you by feel — every curve, every sound you made under his fingertips.

When you gasped as his hand skimmed lower, he paused. “Tell me if you need me to stop,” he murmured into your skin.

You shook your head. “Don’t stop. Please, Joel.”

He kissed down your throat, down your chest, leaving a trail of warmth wherever his lips touched. Your back arched instinctively, your body aching to be closer. There was nothing rushed in the way he undressed you — every movement was measured, like he was unwrapping something he’d wanted for a long, long time but never thought he’d be allowed to have.

And when you were bare beneath him, laid out in the soft hush of his bedroom, you felt more seen — more wanted — than you ever had before.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” Joel murmured, his hand brushing along your waist, your hip, your thigh. “Don’t even know what you’re doin’ to me.”

You reached for him, found the hem of his shirt, and he let you lift it up and over his head. He was solid and warm and real beneath your palms, and when you kissed down his chest, he hissed through his teeth — a sound that made heat curl deep in your stomach.

The rest came off piece by piece — not rushed, but not slow either. Just… inevitable.

And then he was over you again, skin to skin, his weight pressing you into the mattress, grounding you. His nose brushed yours, like a silent request.

You cupped his cheek. “I want this. I want you.”

He kissed you again — not soft this time, but sure, open, claiming. His hand slipped under your thigh, lifted you to him, and you felt him press against you, heavy and warm.

You both gasped as your bodies joined — not all at once, but slowly, carefully, like you were fitting puzzle pieces together. Like your bodies already knew the rhythm even if the rest of you hadn’t caught up yet.

Joel’s breath stuttered as he sank fully into you, and for a moment, he just held there — his forehead against yours, both of you trembling, trying to hold on.

“Jesus,” he whispered. “You feel like heaven.”

You didn’t have the words to answer. Just the way your hands clung to him, the way your body opened for him, welcomed him in.

He moved slowly, deliberately — not just fucking you, but feeling you, like this meant something. Like he was afraid to miss it.

And you met him, movement for movement, every breath shared, every sound caught in the dark like a secret.

There was something tender in the way he whispered your name when you cried out his — something reverent, like he couldn’t believe he was allowed to have you like this. And when your body tightened around him, shuddered beneath him, he caught you through it, kissed your cheek, your mouth, your neck ��� whispered that you were perfect, that you were his.

He followed soon after, his voice breaking into a groan as he pressed as deep as he could, shaking with the force of it, with everything he’d been holding back.

When it was over, he didn’t move far. Just enough to roll you gently to your side and pull you close, your bodies still tangled together, still warm and slick with each other.

You felt him kiss your shoulder, then your neck. “You okay?” he asked again, voice softer than ever.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “Joel…”

He pulled you tighter. “I got you, baby. I got you.”

You tucked your face into the space between his neck and shoulder, listened to his heartbeat.

And that’s how you stayed — wrapped in warmth, in quiet, in something neither of you were ready to name, but both of you felt all the same.

A/N: Should i make a part two for this? Idk how i would continue it, so if you want drop some ideas in the comments. Thanks for reading hun xx

[hwaflms]

HAPPY NOW? ★ [ j.jh ]

your family has been pressuring you for months to bring your boyfriend, jaehyun, over for dinner, and you think it’s really sweet that they like him so much. the only problem is that your “boyfriend” jaehyun, hates you.

———————————————————————

[☆] PAIRING. ex!jaehyun x f!reader

[☆] GENRE. angst, smut, fluff | fake dating?, exes to ??? au

[☆] WC. 19.9k (i don’t even know)

[☆] WARNINGS. angst, reader has anxiety, mentions of anxiety attacks, fighting, reader be lying a lot, reader has a little sister, crying, reader is kind of a dumbass, explicit content (piv smut), unprotected sex (don’t do this gang!), fingering, sex in public kinda, pls lmk if i forgot anything!!

[☆] NOTES. i’m so fucking annoyed with tumblr it’s not letting me insert images properly UGH this took me over 2 hours to upload man 🗣️ im pretty proud of this one ‼️ idek how it got this long but it’s my longest fic yet and it’s been sitting in my drafts for ages until i finally got the inspo to write it :p i want jaehyun so bad it’s not even funny tbh but anyway PLS GIVE ME FEEDBACK/A REBLOG LITERALLY ANYTHING IS APPRECIATED <33

———————————————————————

six months.

you haven't seen this door in six months.

it's funny because, this was a door you used to push open and walk through every other day, yet now you stand on the opposite side of it, unsure as to whether you should even be thinking of knocking.

your hand is raised to the door, shaped like a fist but you make no move to actually knock. you were aware that you still had time to bail out of this, that you could turn on your heel and make your merry way back to your sad little house and go back to pretending you're happy with the choice you made six months ago.

or you could just do what you came all the way here to do.

the weather seems to be in your favour, at least. the sun shines radiantly, making the temperature warm, but not too warm, and a cool breeze travels through the air in short intervals. the summer had begun early, birds chirping in their habitual singsong way and wild bougainvillea already flowering in various shades of pink and lilac. usually when the day starts off with good weather, the rest of it follows suit, and thus your day is made better. hopefully, this is the case for you today.

pausing for a short, morale-boosting intake of air, you tighten your fist and knock, knock, knock on the mahogany door, immediately regretting your decision as you feel your stomach churn and plummet. a good ten seconds pass, and you hear no reply nor movement from the inside of the house, and part of you is relieved because that means he may not be home.

more than happy to do a 180° and skip along joyously back to the metro that would take you home, your feet begin to make for that trip but your mind decides against it. you know that you are being overly dramatic, but even with being aware of this, your heart rate does not slow down one bit. you also know that what you've come here to do is more than just selfish, its pathetic and rather embarrassing. it's also a hugely unsavoury request, and if your roles were reversed, you'd most definitely laugh in his face and shut the door.

finally somewhat making up your mind with a quiet groan, you raise your clenched fist and rap against his front door again in a set of three. you nervously shift your weight from your right to your left foot, then back to your right and then once again to your left, the anxiety and anticipation not allowing you to stand still and relax, thinking that if he doesn't answer this time, you really will just return home.

"hold on, i'm coming!", a hurried, muffled voice calls from inside the house and you don't think your heart has ever beaten this fast in your life. not even during the one time you ran a marathon to prove a point to your friend chenle, and while you did show him that you didn't only run to get away from spiders, your body took its own sweet time to recover from that.

now you hear footsteps approaching the door from the opposite side of it, and you don't think you can handle anymore of this tortuous, build up of a wait because you are quite literally one step away from calling it a day and just sprinting your way out of there, just like you did on the last few metres of the aforementioned marathon, and you know he's nearing the door because the footsteps are getting clearer and clearer, and soon he's going to open the door, take one look at you and just slam the door right in your face, but not before spewing verbal explosives at you, which would be totally deserved since he has every right to just spit on you and tell you how you're a terrible, downright horrible human being completely unworthy of forgiveness and-

"sorry for making you wait so long, i was-"

if your heart rate was at its maximum speed before, now it just stopped.

standing in front of you, in the flesh, was the man who's heart you broke six months ago.

jaehyun had just about opened his door in a way that his body was sticking halfway out of it, but he was now frozen in that position, neither in nor out, just stuck there looking like he was contemplating his next move. he adorned a loose, white shirt that clung to his defined shoulders and chest, paired with a pair of red plaid pants with a patch of some different material stitched just above where his knee was. you'd recognise those pants just about anywhere, having worn them a number of times and being the cause of that strange patch with mismatched material (you'd tried to balance a pot of steaming hot ramen on your knee in order to move something, resulting in it causing a burn in the pant).

his attire tells you that he was either just about to eat breakfast, in the process of eating breakfast, or about to finish breakfast; jaehyun was not an early riser and he liked to take his time getting ready for the day.

apart from his slightly changed hair, jaehyun looks the same as he did before, if not better. his once shorter, straight, brown hair, was now a darker kind of black and longer in a silky, mullet-y, layered sort of way, the mullet part stopping just above where his shirt met his neck and the front bits falling on to his face in thin, soft wisps.

everything about the man was captivating and entrancing, but if you had to pick a specific feature that really takes the cake, it would have to be his eyes. his eyes, deep-set and fierce, always gave the impression that he was cold or unapproachable, whereas in reality, he was the opposite. as striking as they may be, they always carried a certain warmth to them.

while they still held the same intensity to them, the warmth was missing as he looked straight at you now. after the brief moment of confusion when he first opened the door dissipated, the familiarity had sunk in, and his expression now was more or less unreadable, but you still tried to make out what he was thinking and feeling- was it shock? anger? maybe even disgust?

"okay, are you going to just stand there or are you going to say something?"

you think it was largely a combination of the last two. in all your fidgeting and gawking, you'd forgotten to actually speak to the man who's door you'd just knocked on, leaving him standing there wordless and confused, an eyebrow raised as he waited for you to open your mouth.

you try to do so, so many words wanting to tumble out your mouth but an invisible gate seems to block it, so now you're just stood still with your mouth opening and closing soundlessly, looking like an idiot.

c'mon y/n, fucking say something, anything-

"how have you been?", is what you decide to go with to break the silence in the end, an awkward smile plastered on to your face. you realise before the sentence is even fully out of your mouth that that would be a really weird thing to start off with, seeing as you and jaehyun have had absolutely zero contact for six months, and are obviously not on the most wonderful terms.

jaehyun's eyebrows furrow, a look of clear disbelief on his face as he clutches his door handle a little tighter. he looks away with a sarcastic smile, shaking his head before turning back to look you dead in the eye. oh, he's going to slam the door on you, you just know it-

"really? 'how have you been'?", he questions incredulously, licking his bottom lip while an exasperated smile plays at them. funnily enough, his response is somewhat relieving to your pitiful self, because you weren't even expecting to hear a reply to what you said, you figured he'd just walk away. you would've. "we haven't seen each for six months since we broke up and 'how have you been' is the best you've got?"

you wince apologetically and bite your lip, playing with your fingers nervously as he quite literally stares you down, irritation written all over his face.

he waits a couple more beats for you to break the tense silence and speak but you are inwardly (and outwardly) struggling to word your thoughts, so he simply scoffs and backs away to return inside.

"okay wait, i didn't tell my family that we broke up and they keep pressuring me to bring you home for the holidays, so i would really like if you'd pretend you don't hate me and come with me."

you don't even want to open your eyes to witness his reaction to your blurted little confession, so you merely stand, frozen in place with your eyes squeezed shut tightly. a couple seconds pass yet you don't hear a door slam, a good sign, so you take that as an affirmative to open your eyes.

he doesn't say anything, or do anything either really, he just leans against his doorframe with another indecipherable expression. this irks you even though you know you have no right to feel irked, but the fact that you once had the ability to know what he was thinking and now don't bothers you to the core. plus, it leaves you feeling unsure as to whether to continue. he might just start laughing at you manically or angrily tell you to get off his property like some bitter, 60-year-old man, and either of these scenarios would be completely fair of him to do.

the heavy realisation that your request sounded absolutely delusional and conceited dawns upon you, and something about his irksome expression makes you feel like you should keep talking. "you have literally every right to just tell me to fuck off, and i don't even expect an answer, i don't really know why i even came here, oh my god- this is so fucking stupid, i'm so fucking stupid and honestly i don't know why you're still standing here listening to me ramble-"

"i need to get ready then. give me ten minutes."

✧ ──────── ✧ ──────── ✧

the front door you're stood at now holds a very different ambience to the previous one. while jaehyun's was quiet and peaceful, the front door to your parents house reveals that the inside is just bustling with activity. the chorus of kate bush's 'running up that hill' plays faintly from behind the door, so you figured that your dad must have brought out his old record player from the dusty attic.

jaehyun stands beside you, hands shoved into the pockets of his light grey hoodie that you feel he must be boiling in, because you're wearing a black tank top with some loose cargoes that you think you might have drenched with sweat.

the sweat would be from the burning heat, but also from the agitation you're really starting to feel. there are so many different ways this dinner could go. what if jaehyun suddenly tells them the truth? then everyone in the room would hate you, and rightly so. you don't want to have to explain to your parents why you broke up with him; it's a stupid fucking reason, if you can even call it that, and it made you completely miserable. how were you supposed explain to your little sister that you and jaehyun aren't together anymore? you suppose relationships are a totally foreign concept to her young mind, but you were sure that she knew you and jaehyun loved each other very much. and you knew she loved jaehyun very much.

he does not look at you, instead choosing to really focus on the christmas themed welcome mat that your parents put out during the winter of '09 and never bothered to change. how he even agreed to come here with you, you don't know, but to say you're grateful would be an understatement.

"you still have time to back out, you know.", you mumble softly, trying to give him one more chance to escape, but he doesn't even spare you a glance, shaking his head and squinting at the door.

"let's just get this over with."

with a small sigh, your raise your hand to press your parents doorbell, the embarrassingly loud 'ding dong' ringing out from behind the door. "oh, that must be her!", you hear the muffled voice of your father speak from the inside, making a slight smile form on your lips.

within a couple seconds, you hear the sound of the muted metal bolt as your dad struggles to open the door to let you in. a grunt of "this damn door..." makes both you and jaehyun release short giggles, and you peek over at jaehyun to see his lips curl upwards into a smile, a small one but it's still breathtakingly pretty . he clears his throat and it's gone in a flash, but the image doesn't leave your mind, and you're still seeing it when your dad finally manages to open the door. "i really need to start using the new lock", he mutters, shifting his eyes to you with a big grin, leaving against the doorframe with his arms folded. "hello, sweetheart."

you chuckle and throw your arms around him, squeezing him a little as he laughs and pats your back in return. releasing you, he turns to jaehyun with a smile, who promptly sticks his hand out politely. "hello, mr. l/n, long time no see."

your dad ignores his hand, throwing his head back with a gruff laugh. "what's with all the formalities, come here, son.", and with that he gives jaehyun a hug as well, a slightly shorter one albeit, but a hug nonetheless. the word 'son' repeats in your mind like an echo, sounding more and more distorted the longer you focus on it. you can't even begin to think of what was going through jaehyun's mind. this was not your brightest idea.

you notice your mom waiting by the door with her hands behind her back, eyes bright and shiny. "hi, mom.", you beam, and she laughs cheerily, opening her arms for you to run into, which you do. she presses numerous kisses to the crown of your head, making you groan lightheartedly and try to escape her hold, but it only tightens. "oh, how i've missed you."

"i missed you too, mom.", you say but she's already let you go and is making a bee line for jaehyun with her arms open, who falls into the hug so readily and comfortably. "i may have missed you, y/n, but i missed jaehyun ten times more.", she jokes, pinching jaehyun's cheeks affectionately.

jaehyun is turning bright red, but he has a toothy grin on his face, a real one, you can tell. his eyes travel the front room where all of you are stood with a nostalgic smile, having not seen it or your parents in over six months. you watch as they look from the various photo frames hung up on the wall alongside the staircase, to the curtains that they recently changed, finally landing on the record player thay was sitting on the table. "wow, mr. l/n, where did you get this?", jaehyun asks, and you wonder whether he's trying to make conversation or if he's genuinely curious. you think it may be the second one.

while him and your dad engage in small talk about his record player, you turn to your mom to ask of the whereabouts of your little sister, and as if on cue, you hear an excited squeal from the top of the stairs. all four heads turn to see your sister bounding down the stairs hurriedly, paying no mind to your mom's strained shout of "careful!".

"y/n!", she piped, finally reaching the bottom of the stairs and running straight to you, wrapping her arms around your legs. she barely reaches your hip so her hug is really just her face pressed into your thigh with her arms squeezing your legs together, while you pat the top of her head.

somehow managing to pry her off of your legs, you kneel and give her a proper hug in return, now happy that you made the decision to come home for a bit of your holiday. she lets go and reaches into her pocket, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper and jutting her hand out to you, urging you to take it.

you smile and furrow your eyebrows with confusion but you take the paper anyway, opening it as carefully as you could so as to not tear it anywhere. smoothing it out flat on your knee, you're greeted with a drawing; two people stand holding hands under a deep blue sky, a large yellow sun shining in one corner along with some "birds" that are really just little 'v's scribbled in black. they're stood on a beach, at least you think they are because there are two shades of blue on the paper, one of them probably being the blue hue of the ocean.

you assume the two people are you and your sister, since one of them has shorter, shoulder length hair and is miniscule compared to the other person, who's hair length and height are similar to yours.

you hold the picture to your chest and pull your sister in for another heartfelt hug, kissing her temple. "is this us?", you ask her, pointing at the two people in the drawing. she gives you a proud nod in return, taking the picture from your hands and holding it in front of her face. "yup! the big girl is you and the small girl is me! we're gonna go swimming.", she informs you, flashing you the toothiest of smiles. "thank you, it's perfect.", you tell her, ruffling her hair a little as she hands you the drawing back.

she clearly doesn't appreciate that, because she whines and swats your hands away, but soon her eyes focus on something behind you and they enlarge, the second excited squeal of the day emerging from her lips. "jae!", she just about screams, completely abandoning you in favour of running off to jaehyun, who has a wide smile on his face and looks equally as happy as her. he scoops her up in his arms and lifts her in front of his face, doing a little spin as peals of laughter escape her.

he finally puts her down but she holds on to his hand, looking at the male with absolute adoration. "hi, cutie.", he boops her nose affectionately to which she giggles, turning to look at you. "you didn't tell me jaehyun was coming!"

"i wasn't sure if he could make it", you reply to her honestly, looking at jaehyun as you speak because only the two of you know what you really mean by that. he holds your eye contact for perhaps a millisecond longer than he did before, but again, it was gone in a flash. he clears his throat a little and straightens up, rocking back on his heels.

sensing a shift in the air but mistaking it for some form of awkwardness, your mother shoos the rest of your family away in the direction of the kitchen. "they probably want to freshen up together, let's let them do that."

once they're gone, it feels like you can finally release your breath, truly seeing this situation going wrong in so many ways. they don't suspect anything yet, but how much longer until they eventually connect the dots? or what if they don't even need to do that, because jaehyun only agreed so he could embarrass you by telling them the whole story? you don't acknowledge the tense silence until jaehyun speaks up. "can i use the guest bathroom? still the second door on the right, yeah?"

you don't respond immediately because you're processing the fact that he still remembers these minute details. you also realise he's only asking because he doesn't want to share your bathroom with you, and that clears your thoughts up a little. you nod in affirmation and he begins climbing up the stairs, and you wait until you hear he's reached the upstairs landing before you move.

it's so tense. the last time you were in this house with jaehyun, you had taken a short road trip to get there. you say road trip, but it was just a couple hours long, but the playlist you and jaehyun had curated said otherwise. you arrived at the house and everyone was all smiles, your parents just happy to have you home and happy to see him as well. you think that part's just as hard as thinking about the two of you together. the fact that your slightly judgemental parents adored him, your little sister looked at him with stars in her eyes– you had lucked out in every department, and you were always aware of it, the joint guilt you felt from breaking it off and lying to your parents really getting to you now.

you swore that after this was over, you would apologise to jaehyun and finally break the truth to your parents.

finishing off in the bathroom, you step out into the hall, only to bump straight into jaehyun. backing up awkwardly, you both try to get past each but keep going in the same direction, resulting in a bunch of 'sorry–'s and 'wait– just–'s being blurted out by the two of you. finally getting past you, he doesn't look back at you again, just walking down the stairs mumbling something about "they're waiting...".

wincing, you make your way down the stairs as well, arriving at the living room to see your mom standing beside your dad with an excited expression on her face. you approach with caution, noting that your dad has his hands behind his back. "so...", your mother starts, raising her shoulders a little out of anticipation. "since we haven't seen the two of you in a while...we got you some presents! nothing too grand but..."

"mom, it's not even christmas", you whine, ready to argue with them because you feel bad that whatever they got was still overpriced, but your mother shakes her head, urging your dad to reveal the presents. "just take a look first..."

in one hand he holds a small, white box, no bigger than his palm, and your mom picks it up, holding it out to you. the print on the box is small and typewriter-like, the material it's made out of just screaming fancy. you narrow your eyes at your parents but take the box in your hand anyway, pushing it open. inside, it reveals maybe the prettiest necklace you've seen; dainty and silver, the chain is simple but it's the pendant that's the real charm– it's an uncut stone of some kind, a pale, translucent white crystal that's pretty much shapeless but it's wrapped in this thin silver wire that forms little loops and hearts over the stone and it makes it so alluring.

"it's a seaglass necklace", your mom speaks, taking the necklace out of its box for you and inclining her head for you to turn around. you're now facing jaehyun, who looks curiously at the new piece of jewellery with the faintest of smiles on his face. pushing your hair to the side, your mother places the necklace around your neck and clasps it (though it takes her a while, squinting and looking at the necklace hook from every angle because she forgot to wear her reading glasses). she leads you to the mirror by the entrance of the hall so you could get a better look at the necklace hanging on top of your collarbones, reaching up to touch it. "you remember? from that lady who owned the fancy place by the beach last summer?"

you do remember. that was the first trip jaehyun had joined you and your family for, under the suggestion of your little sister. when you brought up the fact that jaehyun was going back home to see his parents a little later than he had anticipated, your sister immediately asked if he would want to come with all of you, who were heading to the beach in a day or two for a little family getaway. and much to your surprise, your parents were very warm to the idea of jaehyun accompanying the lot of you. he must have severely impressed them the first time he met them, bringing a bouquet of flowers for your mother and a hearty bottle of whiskey for your dad– it's like he had won their hearts before he had even stepped inside the house.

of course, he had met them a couple more times again after that, but your parents had never raised any issues about your then boyfriend. your dad had claimed that he wanted jaehyun to come along so he could "keep an eye on him" and "see how he treats you in front of us", but you knew all too well he just wanted someone to talk to about his interest in sound systems. the trip had gone so smoothly, so perfectly and you think that it had planted the seeds of doubt in your mind about your relationship.

the position of the window and sun allowed for the light to bleed on to half of your face, the necklace glinting under the rays as you stood in front of the mirror and surveyed it. the last couple drops of the golden hour sun slipped through the windowpane and painted your skin like it was a canvass and the necklace was the cherry on top. you were radiant, and the look in jaehyun's eyes told you that he knew it too. when your eyes meet in the mirror, it's like he tears his eyes away from you, forcing himself to look at his shoes.

snapping out of your soon-to-be miserable thoughts, you fix a smile on to your face so as to not seem ungrateful, turning to hug your mother. "i love it", and you really do, knowing that you wouldn't be wearing a single other piece of jewellery for the next couple months.

jaehyun stands in the doorway soundlessly, just taking in the scene. he had always told you that he wished his family was as close and tight-knit as yours, but due to his dad always being away on some business trip or another and his mother having her own job to attend to, it resulted in a lot of time spent by himself.

you think that might be way he slotted right in with the rest of you, from the very first meet, because his desire to belong worked very well with your family's lively, chaotic home, which welcomed him right away. this was the main reason why couldn’t bring yourself to tell your family that you had broken up him mercilessly. they wouldn’t blame you of course, but you know everyone would be immensely disappointed when they realised that he hadn’t even done anything wrong in the first place; he was so good to you, and they just wanted to see you happy.

while your mom cooed at how pretty the necklace looked on you, your dad faces jaehyun with a wide grin on his face. "you didn't think we'd forget about you, did you?"

he probably wasn't expecting anything for himself, because you weren't either, so you and jaehyun simultaneously furrow your eyebrows. "oh, mr. l/n, you didn't have to–", he starts but your father is quick to cut him off, waving his hands. "what nonsense. of course we had to get you something, it's no big deal", he tries to appear nonchalant but the smile that creeps on to his face is a telltale sign that it is, in fact, a big deal. "besides, if you're family to y/n, you're family to us."

it's as if someone just stuck a large knife into you, the pang you just felt in your stomach. you can't even begin to think about what must be going through jaehyun's head, because even he can't hide the way his eyes soften at your dad's words. watching your sister spring up from the couch, she runs behind your father and plucks whatever he was holding out of his hands, now revealed to be a medium-sized bag. "i wanna give it to jaehyun!", with that, she's running over to him with the toothiest smile plastered on her cheeks, holding the bag out to jaehyun with stretched arms.

he ruffles her hair just like you did, but she makes absolutely zero complaints as he does it– if anything she's revelling in it. this makes you want to scoff, but you smile instead without thinking about it, taking a couple steps away from the mirror and towards them. "are you gonna open it or should i take it back to the store?", your dad jokes and jaehyun chuckles quietly while you don't even bother forcing a laugh, and he takes the bag from your sister's hands, mumbling a soft 'thank you'.

from where you're standing, you can't see what's inside the bag, but you can see jaehyun's eyes widen when he looks inside and back up at everyone. "me and mrs. l/n, i can't take this."

"of course you can", your mother tuts in response, dismissing him with her hand. "if i recall correctly, you had said something about your airpods not working properly?"

realisation dawns on your face when jaehyun pulls the shiny headphones from the bag, turning them over in his hand. "i think i did mention it, yeah...", he nods, eyes scanning over the clear box he holds. you remember that only one of his airpods would function properly, the other deciding whenever it wanted to do its job. you didn't realise your parents remembered, as well. "but these are so expensive, i can't–"

"do you like them or not?", your dad asks, shrugging his shoulders. jaehyun's quick to nod, "yes, i love them but–"

"then end of story." your father's not hearing anyone out, even going so far as to cover his ears jokingly when jaehyun opens his mouth again. after your sister tugs on his pant leg and urges him to try them out, jaehyun slips them over his ears, whipping his phone to connect them to it. he thought it was too expensive to try fixing his airpods so he resorted to listening with just the one ear in, or using your headphones till you broke up.

by the look on his face, they work just fine, and he couldn't be happier. a wide smile is pressed on his face, a real one that doesn't even drop when he makes eye contact with you. you smile back at him slowly, but he doesn't look away immediately, slowly turning to look at your parents. "i don't know what to say. thank you."

you'd had a couple boyfriends before, not none as close to your family as jaehyun had been. none of your previous relationships had lasted very long and you could never pinpoint the exact reason why, you just knew at some point that you had to break it off. your mother always thought that this was a result of your first ever relationship, the first and last man that ever dumped you. it crushed you at the time, though you were able to power through, but since then, relationships were never your strong suit. change seemed promising when you met jaehyun through a mutual friend, however. he was kind, he was smart and he was genuine, three traits that you didn't typically see in guys you dated, but you didn't see any reason to dwell on your biggest fumble yet.

the rest of time until dinner continues in a steadfast manner with all of you sitting in the living room. the scene looked like something out of a corny movie montage, but the beautiful part of it was that it was reality, all the laughs, the eye-smiles, the stupid jokes and conversations, all of it. your parents had recently returned from a holiday together that they took to celebrate their wedding anniversary, which meant that you two deserved to look through all eight hundred and sixty two of the photos they took. super proud of the new projector he had ordered off amazon, your dad had connected his phone to it and was going through his gallery slideshow-style, with your mom making offhand comments about every other photo.

"that's from when we went on a date to this fancy restaurant, that's from the shoe store your dad wanted to go to...oh! that's when your dad just learnt how to take 0.5x pictures on his new phone!"

your mom speaks animatedly while each photo is being shown, pointing out various different things without any prompting. there were badly taken selfies of your parents that made both you and jaehyun laugh, pictures of the different kinds of food they ate, the said 0.5's of your mother taken from the top of her forehead– your dad was slapping his knee even though your mom wasn't too impressed.

after what seemed like years, they ran out of vacation pictures and moved on to pictures and videos taken during your little sister's talent show. this was especially endearing, because your normally high-energy sister was suddenly all shy and avoidant of eye contact in the presence of jaehyun, particularly displeased with a video of her singing on stage.

jaehyun wipes the pout right off her face however, poking her cheek with a smile. "you sound amazing, s/n", he pipes genuinely, and she's back to smiling again, even offering to sing the song for everyone towards the end. no one has the heart to turn down so innocent a request, so for the next couple minutes you are subjected to a very slightly off-key rendition of some song from the movie 'frozen'. everyone cheers when she is done, jaehyun even throwing in a little "whoo!" for good measure, and your sister performs a small curtsey before seating herself between you and jaehyun's legs.

you're situated on the same couch, but only so that things don't look weird. you invited him here to pose as your boyfriend, and he agreed, so you have to play the part too. that part wasn't as hard as you expected, the acting like a couple, no, it was the avoiding questions that was really getting to you. at some point in the conversation, your dad had congenially asked jaehyun when the next time he'd be coming home was. normally, he would congenially reply with something like "as soon as possible", but this time, he just froze. he appeared to attempt a reply, but was cut short at "uh–", the rest of the sentence never following through.

hoping to repair the awkward moment, you start to construct a fib. "jaehyun's been uh– you know, working at one of those um, nursing homes–", this is too out-of-the-box a reply even for jaehyun who turns to you, trying and failing to the hide incredulous look on his face.

"a nursing home? oh, i didn't know you were training to be a nurse!", your mother is surprised but definitely not disappointed, placing her hand on her chest with a sympathetic look on her face as she looks at jaehyun. he looks as if he's trying to speak to you using only his eyes, widening and squinting them at a rapid pace, tilting his head towards you so your parents don't see his expression. there are clear signs of confusion and you're aware he's questioning your decisions, but that's as far as you get with his eye signals and you let him know by shrugging and wincing, so he closes them while sighing inwardly and turns to face your parents, a fake smile stuck on his lips.

"yes! haha, funny story, this one...", he grits his teeth but furthers your stupid concoction of a story, snapping his fingers while trying to think. "i'm not really training to be a nurse, i just volunteer there sometimes. love being around old people, you know, makes me feel full of life–"

you cut him off before he can make this even worse for the both of you, taking in your mother's furrowed eyebrows and your dad's slightly opened mouth. "yes, well, it's hard for him to catch a break, you know, with all the...", you slap your hand over his knee and give it a little squeeze, turning to him with a grin while he smiles tightly back at you, eyes focusing on the hand on his thigh without changing his expression. "...hard work he does."

jaehyun's eyes don't leave your hand, seeing as this is the first act of skinship in six months, albeit casual. your hand feels so hot that you think you might be burning a hole through the material of jaehyun's jeans, finally ripping your hand off of him.

"of course...", your father trails off in confusion, and no one can seem to make head or tails of the situation. in a moment, your mother pauses before clapping her hands, seemingly already forgotten about the strange situation as she chimes "dinner in five!~". your sister scampers off with claims of helping your mother out in the kitchen (and probably to try and secure a spot close to you and jaehyun), and jaehyun stands up and heads to the cupboard containing all your placemats without out even being asked. you offer to help but he shakes his head, and you opt to go sit back down on one of the arm chairs facing the kitchen area, just observing.

this was one of jaehyun's qualities that made you fall in love with him, but also pissed you off to no end. first of all, didn't he ever get tired of just being so good all the time? second of all, why couldn't his own parents see what everyone else saw in him? and thirdly, why did you choose to ruin your life six months ago? as for the last one, you knew why, but the extent of your stupidity was real apparent to you now.

you look away when he meets your eyes and catches you, your heart beating fast when you see out of the corner of your eye that his gaze lingers for a moment or two. underneath all that hatred, was there still a small part of him that cared about you? after you broke up with him, over call that too, he attempted to call you back two or three times, but you couldn't bring yourself to pick up. out of fear or maybe even shame, you never answered his calls and since then, you'd had no contact.

it was impossible. with a break-up like that and six month's worth of time to sit and think about it, you imagine that one could hold a surprising amount of hatred for someone–especially after a relationship as real as yours. if you switched the roles, you think you wouldn't feel much different.

at your mom's signal, you heave yourself off the couch and to the dining table, seating yourself next to jaehyun (everyone expected you to sit with him, they left the chair empty on purpose). your sister has already claimed the spot opposite jaehyun and was patiently awaiting the vegetables that she knew your mother was going to pile on her plate, a little pout forming on her lips at the sight of broccoli. "you can't make that face every time, like i'm feeding you dog food", your mother scolds her with a smile, giving her a generous helping of veggies. the pout deepens and she folds her arms with a cross look on her face. "you guys don't have to eat the broccoli. why do i?"

she's got a point, you think, but before you can tell her to just eat them, jaehyun speaks. "that's exactly what my little cousin sungchan said...", jaehyun tells her, looking around the table with a dramatic sigh. "and we all know what happened to him..."

little cousin sungchan? as far as you know, there is no little cousin sungchan, and you know a lot about jaehyun's family, so you put your fork down in favour of listening to his story at the same time your sister curiously asks, "what happened?".

"well, like you, sungchan didn't like eating his veggies", starting off the story with a shrug under your mother's listening ears, he talks in a low voice. "he'd always argue with my aunt till one day, he refused to eat them.

your sister is knocking food around her plate while she listened to jaehyun, and she's not impressed with the story so far. "see! why can't i do that?", she asks indignantly, and your mother shoots jaehyun a look to which he winced and continues. "nothing happened for a while, so sungchan thought he had proved his point. but he hadn't heard of the veggie monster."

the story is heading in such a stupid direction that you almost laugh out loud, but you catch yourself when you notice your sister's expression, guarded and wary. "...the veggie monster? ...that's not real...", she speaks like she's not fully sure of her words herself, pausing her attack on her food.

"sungchan thought that too", jaehyun agrees, lowering his voice like one would when telling a scary story, looking around him like it could be listening before continuing, for the story's sake. "but he didn't know that without veggies, a child's body is weak. their bones don't grow strong, they stay small and their minds aren't sharp at all. that's how the veggie monster chooses his targets."

you hold back a snort at your sister's wide-eyed expression and how serious jaehyun looks, he's even got your dad attempting to look nonchalant as he followed the story. "the less veggies a kid eats, the weaker they get, and that's easy pickings for the veggie monster. he comes late at night, and there's no point in hiding because he knows. he can smell when a kid doesn't have enough vitamins and it makes him hungry."

with your sister, your parents and even you hanging on to every word, jaehyun lowers his voice to almost a whisper, and all of you lean in closer to listen. "legend has it that he looks so scary that you lose the ability to move or speak, so he just takes you. sungchan was never seen again. the police said he was missing but i knew what happened to him."

you have to admit, jaehyun can tell a story. the atmosphere felt more eerie as he concluded the story cryptically, but your sister looks positively gutted. "did he take him?", she questions, face white and voice small. he nods slowly, like he didn't want to be talking about this, and all you can think about is how this man deserved an award after the show he put on. "i had my suspicions. no one believed me, but i'm ninety-nine percent sure that at dinner, i saw a pair of dark, red eyes staring straight into the kitchen from the window."

as if nature was a paid fucking actor, a slight crash sounds from outside the window on cue, like if a cat knocked over a plastic bin, but you're pretty sure your sister shit her pants. you've never seen her shovel vegetables into her mouth at that kind of record speed before, even your parents are looking at her astounded. with her food in her mouth, she pleads with glazed eyes, "please– i'm sorry, i'll have my veggies, don't let him take me!"

it takes all of you a little while to convince your sister that she'd be completely fine if she ate all the veggies given to her and that the veggie monster wouldn't even think of her, but it's safe to say that she'd never leave a bit of stray carrot on her plate ever again. your mom comically mouths 'thank you' to jaehyun which makes you laugh, and you turn to smile at him, and he gives you a nod in return. small steps, you think, because a nod is a whole lot better than a glare.

the rest of the dinner continues as if nothing changed. sure, you and jaehyun knew things were different, but it didn't fully feel like it at the moment. your mom had prepared a lot of nice food for the occasion, and your dad even helped, particularly proud of the way his stir fry turned out. jaehyun made sure to compliment both your parents on their cooking, and they all but melted– he still knew exactly how to talk to them. conversation was easy; you talked about work, you talked about how university was going, you talked about the school play your sister was going to take part in, about jaehyun's parents, nothing was forced.

you'd fall into comfortable silences at times in favour of sitting back and observing, listening, just being a part of the moment. for someone who was so reluctant to be here, jaehyun seems comfortable, the familiarity of the situation helping ease the tension between the two of you. expecting some bumps along the way, you were rather pleased with how things were turning out, but you were also anticipating the end of the lovely evening– where you and jaehyun would eventually go your separate ways. you don't want to think about it just yet, not when everything was going so smoothly, and your opportunity to snap out of your thoughts is presented to you, just not in the way you would have liked.

your mother's question seems to have thrown jaehyun for a loop as well, because his eyebrows are furrowed and he looks blatantly confused. at some point during a lull in the conversation, your mother had politely asked jaehyun how his christmas in japan had gone; the only problem with this question was that he never had a christmas in japan, not to his knowledge anyway. this, was yet another lie you had told your parents, when they had asked why jaehyun hadn't accompanied you home to celebrate christmas, like he had originally planned to. unbeknownst to them, you had already broken up with him prior to the christmas holidays, so jaehyun wasn't exactly going to come along anyway. so, you told them that he had to spend christmas with an aunt in japan, for familial reasons.

you didn't exactly have time to prep jaehyun and give him a run down of every single lie he had to play along with, so he turns to you with a look of uncertainty and desperation in his eyes. "my, uh- christmas? in japan?", he puts emphasis on the two keywords, not blinking when he speaks directly to you in hopes that you would take the hint and help him out.

"yeah, your christmas. in japan. with your aunt", you reply to him with the same tone and expression as he does, trying your best to sound subtle so your parents don't catch on.

"yes, with your aunt! we were so sad to hear that you couldn't make it for christmas", your mother is unknowingly helping jaehyun catch up with the fake story, and he releases a short "ahh" during his moment of 'recollection'. "right, my real aunt who definitely lives in japan."

he grits his teeth when he talks, making you grimace and the fact that your parents look completely puzzled doesn't help. you need to save your dignity anyway, so you try to cut jaehyun off before he can make things worse. "haha, jaehyun of course she's your real aunt, silly", you awkwardly chuckle, feigning nonchalance when you bump his shoulder with your fist, wishing you could telepathically communicate with him right now, but you'd probably only be saying "please, please, please" on repeat.

he sighs but speaks up again, much to your relief. "it was slightly boring, my aunt doesn't do much", he laughs softly, fully back in character. "but you know, it's still nice to spend time with your family."

if your parents are suspicious, they don't say anything, seemingly satisfied with jaehyun's answer. dinner continues with few hitches until jaehyun insists that he washes the dishes. "it's the least i can do, after you both made such delicious food."

your mother at least tries to argue with him for a bit, but your dad is quite happy to not have to wash dishes, patting jaehyun on the back before standing up. what surprises you however, is jaehyun turning to you with the sweetest, most fake smile you've seen in a minute plastered on his face. "you mind helping, y/n?"

smiling tightly, you nod and begin clearing the table. this is done in silence, neither of you even looking at each other as you pick up dishes and carry them to the kitchen. your sister has run off to the living room to watch some t.v with your dad, and it feels like you're finally allowed to breathe when your mother exits the room as you’re picking up the last dirty dish. walking into the kitchen, jaehyun's back is facing you while he washes dishes, the environment and the little tune he's humming making everything seem so domestic in your eyes. this is how dinner used to always go when he came over, with you and him washing the dishes together in the end, taking breaks to splash each other with the soapy water or making out secretly by the counter.

but the air is foreign now, none of the former warmth or softness remaining. he turns to you with a frown when you place the final dish on the side of the sink, and he really doesn't look too happy. "visiting an aunt in japan? really?", he scoffs, looking incredulous while you look sheepish, avoiding his eye contact entirely.

you were expecting something like this but you hated being put on the spot. "i don't know, okay, what else was i supposed to say?", the exasperation in your voice is evident but it only fuels jaehyun, and rightfully so.

"i got an idea, how about 'oh, he can't come because i dumped his ass over call for no reason, sorry'?", he digs snidely, voice laden with scorn. there it is. "or is that too close to the truth for you?"

he doesn’t even let you open your mouth, chucking the cloth he was using to dry the dishes on the counter somewhere, folding his arms while he looks at you in a hostile way. “you wanna know how i really spent my christmas, y/n?”, he sneers sardonically, a sarcastic smile etched on to his lips. “alone in my house. miserable. i wish i had an aunt in fucking japan that i could’ve spent it with.”

you hate to admit it, but his words sting and you are well aware that you deserve it. just asking him to join you for this dinner was a huge reach, a request you really didn't expect him to accept. you don't fully understand why he did, though. he clearly despised you, so many be it was out of love for your family? you know jaehyun cared for them, but doing all this was uncharacteristic even for him. when you don't say anything but wear an agonised expression on your face, jaehyun further questions you.

"do you not have anything to say for yourself?", he tries again, his voice a little softer and more hopeful than before but you look like you're fighting some internal battle that doesn't involve him. he exhales deeply, clearly disappointed in your lack of an explanation and just walks past you and out of the kitchen.

you remain in the kitchen for a couple beats more, trying your level best to collect yourself. you can feel tears pricking the corners of your eyes and your breathing is quicker, but this is the absolute worst time to have a little panic attack in the kitchen. how you wished the two of you could just forget about everything for a minute so you could wrap your arms around his figure and fall into his embrace, feeling like that would solve all your problems. it's selfish and wrong, but you know that you're not getting over jaehyun anytime soon.

you'd come to that conclusion a couple months back. the first month after you broke things off with him was possibly the worst time of your life, struggling to eat, sleep or even get out of bed. your friends urged you to reach out to him like they knew you wanted to, but you remained stubborn, convinced at the time that you had made the right decision that would hurt the least for the both of you. you were wrong, you could see that now, but you knew it was much too late. you'd already gone through all the stages of grief, but seeing jaehyun again in this environment had really gone and thrown a spanner in the works for you, all because of your terrible decision-making skills.

any hopes you had of the two of you at least being on semi-friendly terms had just flown out the window as well, and you suddenly think that this might've been the reason why jaehyun even agreed to come. an explanation. a well-deserved one at that. you don't know why you find it so hard to give him one, but you suspect it's because you're not ready to face all that yourself.

upon hearing your mother faintly call out your name, you realise how long you've been standing in the kitchen, taking a couple more deep breaths before you join the rest of them. it's clear that everyone's winding down, your sister curled up on your dad's lap, trying to blink away her sleepiness, while everyone else mutedly watched the television. "didn't mean to keep you all up past your bedtime", you try to joke lightheartedly because your parents look like they're about to hit the hay themselves, but it's really so that no one suspects you were having a little breakdown in the kitchen; especially jaehyun.

"you're not wrong", your dad agrees gruffly, stretching a little before tapping on your sister's cheek to wake her, much to her displeasure. "it's technically your mama's turn to put you to bed, isn't it?", he attempts, but is quickly shot down by your mother, pinching his arm after claiming it was certainly not her turn. after their grand performance, both of them comically turn to look at you with a suspiciously bright look in their eyes. you don't even have time to argue, because the second the hint of a sigh leaves your mouth, they're saying "thank you" and "how nice of you to offer", urging your sister to wake up to let her know that you'll be tucking her in tonight.

she perks up a little at this, nodding with a little glint in her eyes. hopping off your dad's lap, she sleepily totters over to you. "can jae come too?", her voice is hopeful and small, and she yawns in the middle of her sentence but she just has this certain charm that makes everyone unable to say 'no' to her. this includes jaehyun, because one look from her with her arms raised and he's picking her up, pretending to complain about it. you can't help but smile at the whole interaction.

"oh quick! before i forget...", your mom gasps in remembrance, picking her phone up from the coffee table with a tired smile. "don't know when i'll get to see the two of you again so, pictures!"

this may be the only part you were slightly prepared for. your mother had a special affinity for taking photos; not that she was any good at it, she just enjoyed capturing these little moments and treating her gallery like a scrapbook. she had more or less documented the entirety of you and jaehyun's relationship, from the first few months where all the photos were cheesy smiles and awkward poses, to when you had grown more comfortable around each other. in fact, a photo she had taken of jaehyun was your wallpaper for quite some time (it took a lot of effort and explaining to help your mom airdrop you the picture)– it was a shot of jaehyun and your sister grinning from ear to ear, both adorning aprons that were covered in flour after a failed attempt at baking cookies.

the point being, you're pretty sure jaehyun was also expecting the pictures, so it didn't really surprise you when he plastered a smile on his face and came to stand beside you. his hand finds the small of your back soon enough and it makes your body stiffen while simultaneously sending a jolt through it, and jaehyun feels it. mistaking the action for uneasiness, he immediately lifts his warm hand off you so that it's now hovering awkwardly over your body, though no one can see that from the front. while you are disappointed, you lean into him anyway, clasping your hands together behind your back as you both give the camera wide smiles. you're so close you can smell his cologne and it's making you dizzy, not because the scent is overpowering but because it's just so familiar and you can't get enough of it.

the moment is gone in a flash because your mother takes three to four photos while cooing at the two of you before she decides to call it a night, and then jaehyun is ripping himself from you. you don't think anyone else recognises it, the way he seems to want to be as far from you as possible because he's so good at masking these things, but you can feel it. you can feel this heat radiating off of his body whenever he's near you and it's not the warm, fuzzy kind of heat. the spot on your back where his hand rested still burns a little.

your parents are exhausted and look more than happy to be able to jump straight into bed, but not before thanking you and jaehyun. you hug and kiss them goodnight, promising that your next visit will be sooner than this one before they exchange pleasantries with jaehyun, making him promise the same. you know this has to be hard on him, making a mental note to apologise profusely before you part ways. with a reminder that the door now locks from the inside, they bid you goodnight and goodbye, trudging off to their room while your sister scampers up the stairs to hers, suddenly full of life.

you understand why your parents were more than happy to hand over bedtime duties to you and your "boyfriend", because putting your little sister to bed turned out to be a piece of work. she started off by blatantly refusing to brush her teeth, but jaehyun had that one sorted when he reminded her that the veggie monster had a lot of friends, so that was done. she changed into her pyjamas all on her own which was a relief, but you were at a loss over how to actually get her into bed.

you both humoured her for a bit, understanding that she was just happy to have her big sister and her big sister's nice boyfriend home again, so a little excitement was expected. jaehyun played along with her, which was a sight to see, following along with the characters she assigned him in her imaginary games. but when bouncing on her bed turned into running around the room like a crazed bunny, it was a little harder to convince her that she needed to sleep now. "look at me, i'm wide awake", she insists, widening her eyes with her fingers to show you both just how awake she was. jaehyun tried a couple times to catch her, but you're both taken by surprise at her remarkable speed and agility. in the end, you had to resort to just sitting down and hoping that she'll tire herself out, which eventually does happen.

she climbs into bed of her own accord, rubbing at her eyes while you pull the duvet over her body, up to her shoulders. "when are you coming next?", she mumbles curiously while you sit on the edge of her bed, jaehyun standing close by. "soon", you reply honestly, knowing that you'll always have a safe place to come to whenever you need. "maybe i'll even stay for a whole weekend next time."

she likes the sound of this, smiling tiredly with her hands peeking over the edge of her cover, holding it closer to her. "will you come too?", this question is directed towards jaehyun, who looks defeated when he opens his mouth to answer. it's not fair, expecting him to lie to your family like this, but you know you've gotta come clean soon. you'd made up your mind at this point and come up with a plan; you'd explain yourself to jaehyun and apologise after which you'll go your separate ways, then you'll tell your family the truth after tonight, or at least make up a more recent break up, and that's that.

when jaehyun looks to you for help, you play with your hands a little, not fully knowing what to say. "if the old ladies at the nursing home let him go, maybe...", is what you decide is the safest option to go with, and your sister seems satisfied enough, giggling drowsily. you know she's close to falling asleep, and you're about to inwardly celebrate a job well done when she pops her next, unexpected question. "will you both be together forever?"

oh. there's a hint of teasing behind her voice, but everything else about the question is innocent and genuine, blinking her eyes open so she can look at the both of you when you answer. though you're not touching him, you can feel jaehyun stiffen next to you, his voice sounding more than a little awkward when he lets out an involuntary "uhh".

"what do you mean, cutie?"

you don't know why he asks that, because it's a pretty straightforward question; will the two of you be together forever? you want to laugh at the irony because you know that if she had asked the same question last time jaehyun came home, you both would have exchanged knowing smiles, giggling shyly while you tried to answer. the answer would've been 'yes', and you know deep down that it still should be.

she clicks her tongue like it's the most obvious and easy question in the world, shrugging her shoulders when she speaks. "you know, that's what people do when they're in love,", she answers with no hesitation, and you want to roll your eyes because who kidnapped your little sister and replaced her with dhar mann? "just like mommy and daddy!"

"daddy and mommy are married, sweetie, it's a little different–"

"i know that", she cuts off your little improvised answer in a deadpan voice that almost makes you feel stupid, but all her questions have your heart thudding against your rib cage, and you're praying to god that jaehyun can't hear it too. "but still, they love each other, and that's why they're together forever. don't you love each other?"

you're pretty sure the world stopped spinning and your heart stopped beating simultaneously, most definitely not expecting these kinds of questions from your sister. how do you even prepare an answer for this kind of situation? you know for a fact that your cheeks are coated in a dark sheen of red, and out of the corner of your eye (because you refuse to look at him), you’re pretty sure you can see the distinct pink colour paint the tips of jaehyun's ears, like they always do when he's shy or embarrassed. you can't not give her an answer, because that looks weird and she's clearly waiting for one, but answering meant that you either tell her the truth, that no, you will not be together forever because your dumbass went and ruined everything for the both of you six months ago, or you can lie and say that she's right, which would be admitting a lot of things that you didn't want to admit–

"nothing's for sure, but you're right, if two people really do love each other...", jaehyun's deep voice brings all your spiralling thoughts to a halt, and you look at him for the first time in a bit, only to find that he's already looking at you, gaze raw and piercing. you hold your breath when he speaks, because you don't trust yourself at the moment. "...they'll end up together forever."

you hear your sister make some kind of a reply, but the heartbeat in your ears is so loud that you don't quite catch it, the eye contact you're holding with jaehyun so intense that it feels wrong to look away. what could he have possibly meant by that? or was it just some half-assed answer to get your sister to go to sleep? you realise that staring at him while trying to use your sixth sense to nonverbally convey these questions to him isn't going to work, but you can feel the lump forming in your throat, needing to get out of this situation quickly.

it takes everything in you to break the eye contact in favour of pressing a quick peck to your sister's temple, and she looks about ten seconds away from just crashing. "night y/n, night jae...", and with that she's out like a light, and you two wait wordlessly until her breathing evens out before silently exiting the room.

once her bedroom door is shut, you make a beeline for the front door, way too scared and vulnerable right now to look at jaehyun. he doesn't say anything, so neither do you, making sure the door is actually locked before taking your phone out of your pocket. the time on your phone screen reads '11:43', and you know it's too late to try and catch the metro or a bus, but you're too stubborn and embarrassed to ask jaehyun to drop you.

the air is cold outside, much colder than it was inside your warm house. at the current moment, there is no breeze either, the trees are still and there are only a few lights on around the street, and it just makes everything seem so still and loud. you look out at the road, eyes zeroing in on this one lamp post where you shared one of your first few kisses with the man standing beside you. it's crazy how time can change things, you think, because never would you have believed in the moment that jaehyun called you "the most beautiful girl in the world" before leaning in to sweetly connect your lips that he could ever be something so close to a stranger within months.

ultimately opting to look at him, you're once again unable to read the expression on his face as you try your best to speak your mind to him. "um, i'm gonna book a cab, so you're officially free to go. thanks again for tonight, you really didn't have to come with me, so i owe you one. or i don't have to owe you one, because we're not going to see each other again- anything's good with me, just uh...thanks."

he waits patiently for you to finish, and aside from the slightest hint of amusement in his eyes, you're at a loss over what he's really thinking, but his face is so stupidly handsome that you're feeling angry and a little awkward, choosing to look around, and at the floor, playing with your fingers as you spoke.

"you're so dramatic y/n, i can drop you home, it's no big deal", he's already walking towards the road and biting his lip, and you can't tell whether it's out of habit or if he's trying to hide a smile, yet something tells you that it might be the latter.

"so you just let me say all that even though you were gonna offer to drop me? dude..."

the initial ten minutes of the drive are uncommunicative, both of you choosing to look at the dark road instead of acknowledging the awkward silence that was swallowing the car up whole. you don’t talk about your argument in the kitchen, you don’t make small talk about dinner, you don’t talk. you'd normally play some music in the background and you know that your phone is definitely still connected to his car's bluetooth, but somehow it just doesn't feel right– punishing yourself by sitting in this impenetrable silence should do you better.

the roads are more or less empty, save for the lone car or bike that speeds past you. jaehyun knows the way to your house from your parent's because of the amount of times you've driven back and forth, so you don't feel the need to tell him to turn right or to keep going down a certain road, making for even more silence.

part of you is still a little thankful that it isn't the most short drive, even though you aren't even speaking to each other. all it takes is picturing your empty house, devoid of the homely domestic feeling it used to carry when jaehyun was a frequent visitor. what would you even do when you got home? wallow in self-pity over your life choices? play 'sweet' by cigarettes after sex because it reminds you of him, then put on his hoodie that doesn't even smell like him anymore, just so you can curl up in bed and have a good cry while you reminisce? you're starting to think that maybe attempting to talk to him isn't the worst idea, at least it'll give you something to cry about later.

you're going crazy wracking your brain, trying to think of something to say that wouldn't make the atmosphere even more uneasy, but all you got was "hey, thanks again for coming" and "hey, sorry for breaking up with you, what's good though?". you can't even help the wince creeping on your face, finally choosing to go with the former before you have a heart attack and die in jaehyun's front seat.

"thanks again for agreeing to come", you start, absolutely hating the break in your voice from not talking for some time. "you really didn't have to do that. and for dropping me."

he offers you a quick nod in your general direction and fixes his eyes on the road ahead like he was zipping through a crowded highway, though you're sure there isn't a car in sight. "like i said, it's cool", is all you get in return, and you have to remind yourself that he has every right to be short with you.

but still, you try again. "and you don't have to worry about my parents", chewing on your bottom lip, you actually look at him this time, hoping it'll prompt him to do the same, but it doesn't. "i'm gonna tell them the truth."

he releases a short breath from his nose like he finds your statement funny, but continues to not really say anything, just nodding to indicate that he heard you. you subconsciously clench and unclench your jaw at that, because god, he's so fucking annoying, but you swear you don't mean to release the slightly irritated sigh that you do. if you hadn't seen his knuckles turning white from how hard he's gripping the steering wheel, you might not have known that your little sigh pissed him off, because you can't tell it from his face, save from the barely-there eyebrow twitch.

you don't know what it is about car rides with only one other person that make you feel so vulnerable, but you think paired with this kind of silence, you could potentially confess to murder in this setting. it's infuriating, how unresponsive he is, and part of you thinks you're jealous of the control he's exerting, because you're dead sure that if you were in his position, you'd have a fair amount to say. it must be satisfying for him in a way, watching you squirm like this out of guilt and discomfort, but you know in your heart that jaehyun simply isn't like that.

"look, jaehyun", your mouth is working faster than your brain, the silence proving to be too much for you to handle. "i know i fucked things up a bit. with how i ended it and everything..."

perhaps you should've taken a little more time to properly articulate your thoughts, because even jaehyun can't control the astounded scoff that slips out of his mouth. you yourself can't believe that you chose to deliver your words like that and it makes you sound so self-righteous, but they're out, and now you're bracing yourself to finally hear what jaehyun really has to say.

"fucked things up a bit? are you serious?", you can hear it in his voice that he's holding back, but he chooses to laugh in disbelief instead, which you think is actually worse than him straight up screaming at you. "y/n, you didn't even bother telling me in person. you dumped me over the fucking phone, saying it wasn't working."

you now kind of wish that you had just kept quiet and sat in his awkward car, and exchanged awkward niceties when you reach home, never to see him again. but this is your final chance at some form of redemption, and now that jaehyun was actually speaking his mind instead of giving you tight nods, you tried to explain yourself.

"jaehyun, i know, i just–"

"i called you a bunch of times. i tried to come see you and everything, but you went and changed your lock and all your friends were saying you didn't want to see me?"

there goes trying to explain yourself. so you sat and listened instead, and it was the least you could do. jaehyun's voice became more and more strained as he talked, the emotions he was feeling now a lot more evident. he was angry, but more importantly, he was confused, and sad.

"i just- i didn't know what went wrong, you know? we were completely fine as far as i knew", he continues on in a laboured way and he's not looking for you speak right now, so you don't. "fuck i- i thought we were in love."

the little laugh he lets out in between his words more or less breaks your heart, the whole scenario sounding all too familiar. those exact words were the last thing you'd heard from jaehyun before you fully and cruelly broke things off, letting him know the decision was final before cutting the call. you remember that day so clearly. you had meant to go see him and explain all this in person, that’s the whole reason you were in the car, but for some reason, you just couldn’t do it. you remember how much your hands were shaking as you waited for him to pick up the call, sitting in the car by yourself in the middle of your driveway. how long you sat and cried after you ended the call, tears falling until there weren't any left. how it began raining the very second you stepped out of your car to go back inside.

the weather was a funny thing, choosing to mirror your mood only when it saw fit. it was warm and sunny on the day you broke up with him, gentle breeze and wispy clouds all around. it was warm and sunny this morning, the weather ever so pleasant as you plucked up the courage to walk to his door. it was still unusually warm and sunny for the couple months following your break up, feeling sour as ever that the weather was so lovely and all you could do was sit in your room and feel sorry.

you took note of all these occasions because it always used to piss you off. though you shiver now in the car, you think it's kind of satisfying in a way, because the only two times your mood and the weather lined up was right after the break up, and the second you stepped outside your house with jaehyun; it feels like a premonition, or a revelation of sorts. the grey of the stormy sky matched the absolute devastation you felt after breaking up with him, rain pouring from the heavy clouds like they were crying for you. now, the cold, still air feels like baited breath, awaiting your next move.

"and nothing, i hear nothing from you for six fucking months until you're suddenly on my doorstep, asking me to pretend to be your boyfriend for a night. that's fucking insane!", he sounds a little wild now, very exasperated, but you figure it's probably better to just let him get it all out of his system, and you'd do good to listen to him as well. everything he's saying makes complete sense, all the emotions he dealt with akin to what you would've gone through had it been you in his place. "and you know what's more insane? i agreed. after all that, i agreed."

that’s the part you don’t understand. your heart is racing listening to him and you have so many thoughts swimming around in your head, it's difficult to filter them. you feel similar to how you felt back in the kitchen, although this time you can't take a minute by yourself to get over it. you absolutely refuse to cry in this moment, not wanting to seem like you're trying to victimise yourself when you are aware you're the problem. but you can feel your heart breaking all over again.

"why did you agree?", you physically can't raise your voice to louder than a whisper, the tension too thick to try and overpower it.

"why did you dump me?", he counters like a child, and while you were expecting the question, it still makes you freeze up a little. he huffs in annoyance when you don't say anything, inclining his head while he waits expectantly for you to answer. "you wanted to talk? let's talk, y/n. you don't get to just waltz back into my life like it's nothing. it's not fair,"  it's so cold, the way he says your name, but you try your best not to let it further shake you, mustering up the courage to finally speak. "it's so stupid, jaehyun."

he looks like he's about two seconds away from just combusting, the only sound piercing the cold air being the gentle hum of the engine. "don't you think i deserve to know?", he urges, voice edged with hurt and frustration. "i spent the whole day with you and your family, pretending like everything was happy and normal when it's not."

"i know, jaehyun-"

"then, tell me."

you shift uncomfortably in your seat, teeth toying with your bottom lip as you avoid looking at him. "i don't know," you murmur, your voice barely audible to yourself over the pounding of your heart.

"you don't know?", he repeats incredulously, his tone tinged with disbelief. "after everything, you don't know? don't lie to me, y/n."

your throat tightens as guilt washes over you, but you try to stand your ground. "i just... i couldn't do it anymore," you confess, voice trembling with emotion.

"couldn't do what?", he presses, his frustration mounting with each passing moment. you know he doesn't believe you, dead set on getting the answers he deserves. he's driving slowly now, allowing him to turn his head in your direction more often.

"this!", you exclaim but immediately recoil when you see the look of hurt flash in his eyes. "no! not this, i mean- me! it's my fault, you did nothing wrong." you're saying all the wrong things, but you're too overcome with emotion to attempt to form a coherent sentence. still, you know it's time that the truth came out, so you continue to explain with a heavy heart.

"i didn't mean to hurt you," you choke out, and your voice is so thick you have to swallow before you carry on. he looks indignant and rightfully so, but you go on before he can interrupt you again. "but i was so scared, jaehyun."

his expression softens at your state, replaced with a mixture of sadness and resignation. "scared of what?", he asks quietly, his words hanging heavy in the air. you feel the need to pause for a moment, hands balled into tight fists as you try to regulate your breathing. you really didn't take into account how debilitating the night would be on yourself. sure, you knew it was going to be tough seeing jaehyun again, especially if he agreed to pretend to be together, but you weren't really expecting to hash it out like this, the weight of your decision pressing down on your like a leaden blanket.

the car moves so slow it may as well be still but  when you turn to him, you can feel the burn of jaehyun's gaze, his eyes searching for some semblance of understanding. "i loved you", he whispers, voice cracking with the intensity of his words. "i would've done anything for you."

you're still, you're so so still. tears threaten to spill from your eyes as you struggle to find the right words to say, but he's completely thrown you off. the car has slowed to a stop, engine idling before he eventually turns it off in favour of turning to you.

"that's exactly why," you reply weakly, your voice a fraction of the volume it normally is. he surveys you intently, his expression a mix of confusion and hurt, eyes reflecting the very same sadness you feel.

"what do you mean?"

"i was scared of hurting you," your confession does nothing to ease his confusion, but you can see he looks more shocked than anything now. "scared of hurting me?," he echoes, his uncertainty and disbelief palpable. "this is so ironic, it's almost funny..."

you think hearing any more of what he has to say is actually going to kill you internally, so you know you have to rush to explain before he starts giving you a piece of his mind again. "i know, it's so fucking stupid, jaehyun", your voice is trembling from the sheer guilt you feel, bottom lip quivering so much you have to bite it to get it to stop. "everything was going so perfectly, you were so perfect, and it scared me so much."

he falls silent, much to your relief, his expression even softening minutely as he processes your words and this gives you the encouragement to continue. "remember that night on the beach? on the trip last year?", you speak tentatively, wanting him to understand your thought process and the tangled mess of emotions swirling inside you at the time, though it's not much of a defense. the memory floods into your mind so vividly, and you can see it all; the salt in the air, the gentle breeze, the feeling of the sand, your intertwined hands swinging. it was so serene and you'd give anything to be there in that moment again, though it's nothing but a distant dream now.

he nods slowly without speaking, and you release a wet sort of laugh, feeling like you'd choke on the lump in your throat. "we talked about everything that night, our families, our childhoods, our futures...and then you brought up what would happen after we graduated college."

you know he remembers because his eyes light up with recognition and he looks like he's replaying that exact moment in his head, and you hope he remembers it with the same soft, gushy feeling you do. "you said you wanted to move in together, and don't get me wrong, i was thrilled, but it made me realise how...serious everything was, you know?", your voice catches in your throat and you're talking to yourself as much as you're talking to him and he seems to understand that, because he makes no attempt to stop you.

it's silent again for a bit as you two reminisce, but you break it again. "i just knew i was going to fuck up, jaehyun. maybe not right away, but eventually, and the thought terrified me," you sniffle a little, not being able to bring yourself to look up from your hands to meet his gaze. "that feeling never really went away, and it was eating me up from the inside. it got so bad that i had convinced myself that you were going to leave me, so i had to do it first, before i fucked up."

your sorrowful confession hangs in the air like an echo and you finally give in to the urge to look at him, and you're shocked– he looks at you so carefully, his expression soft, much, much softer than before. you couldn't stop the tears from finally falling if you tried , the soft glow of the dashboard illuminating the contours of your now wet face. your shared eye contact makes you feel nervous, but not in the way you were expecting– it's too gentle, too raw and it makes you feel a certain way.

"i know it's not an excuse," you're blubbering so much that your cheeks feel hot, you're practically falling apart in the passenger seat of jaehyun's car while he watches and lets you pour all your miseries out onto him. "you don't know how much i regretted it...but i thought i did the right thing. for the both of us. even though i just ended up doing what i was trying to avoid by hurting you."

it's too much now, jaehyun's too silent, and too not-angry for your liking; why is he looking at you in a way that makes you feel like he doesn't think you're the worst person in the world? you can't hold back the sob that's building in your chest, doubling over in favour of pressing your hands against your face and bawling into them. you're not too loud a cryer, but the tremors of emotion you feel are making your shoulders shake, so you're crying silently into your hands while trembling. however guarded he tries to be, the gentleness of his voice overpowers it as he speaks. "i know, shh...," he murmurs and you can't believe your ears, that the man you thought hated you is actually attempting to comfort you after everything. "breathe, y/n."

like it's second nature to him, his hand travels to your back as the sobs wrack through your body, immediately drawing soothing circles on to your covered skin with his thumb. you don't know how but this almost makes you feel worse, the fact that he's still so caring towards you. you pluck up the strength to lift your face from your moist hands, and you're sure it's not a pretty sight that greets him. your nose feels unbelievably stuffy, and your face is on fire when you meet his sympathetic eyes, the warmth from his gaze and hand spreading throughout you, even though he's now removed it. "i'm sorry," you manage through sniffles, but you think you almost flatline when he reaches his hand towards your face, ever so gently caressing it. his thumb juts out and sweeps across the skin under your eye, wiping away at the wetness. "i know."

"shh, it's okay. you're okay", he coos gently and slowly takes his hand back in favour of imitating slow breaths for you, helping you relax a little as you copy him. "why would you think i'd leave you?", he asks carefully once you've calmed down a bit and wiped your tear-streaked face, simply surveying you now. all you can offer him is a defeated shrug, attempting to collect your thoughts. "remember i told you about my ex? the very first one?"

he nods.

"i moved on obviously, like ages ago, but since then i think i've always had this idea that getting dumped is inevitable", you try to explain, voice small as he listens patiently. "it was either leave them or get left, and i was so scared that it would happen with you, that i'd fuck up so bad that you would leave. i couldn't do it."

he frowns and calls out your name in a way that sounds like he's about to lecture you, but you know he can't tell you anything that you haven't already told yourself. "i know, jae, it was so stupid, i know. i don't regret anything more", you sigh, giving him a tight, small smile when you lock eyes. "i'm sorry."

you notice his eyes soften at the nickname, releasing a quiet huff before he runs a hand through his hair. his body language doesn't carry the same anger it did before when he was ranting, now looking subdued and reflective. "i understand why you did what you did. it was stupid, but i understand", he murmurs, his voice impossibly soft when meeting your gaze, the eye contact so intense that you have to physically remind yourself not to cry again by digging your fingernails into your palms. "i would've never left you."

you nod slowly at his admission, his words hanging in the air. "i should've just talked to you...", you concluded in a sullen way and he doesn't reply in full, just mumbling a soft "yeah" under his breath. you don't mind the silence that fills the car this time, the underlying tension more or less dissipated, but you do notice the time, realising that jaehyun still needs to go back home after dropping you.

"should we, uh...", you gesture towards the road and he jumps up in his seat, as though he forgot that he was driving you somewhere in the first place, muttering "sorry" before twisting the key to start the car. this makes you let out an involuntary giggle and jaehyun shoots you a quick glare which immediately shuts you up, a certain warmth blooming in your chest when you see a small smile creep on to his face out of the corner of your eye.

it's quiet for a bit, jaehyun focusing on the road while you gaze out the window. much to your dismay, both the road and the various buildings and shops start to look a lot more familiar, indicating that you are nearing your home. you shouldn't be dismayed really, because this wasn't the most congenial of car rides, but it means that your time with jaehyun is coming to an end. you don't know what the conversation that took place means for you and him however, because unless you're alarmingly stupid, you feel that he may not hate you as much as he once did. does this mean you might even be able to see him again sometime? in a setting where you're not sweating and shaking at just the thought of seeing him?

you think it might be a bit audacious of you to ask that, so you don't. instead, you turn to him with a light grin, playing with the necklace clasped around your neck. "hey, at least you got some new headphones out of all of this", you joke lightheartedly, eyeing the package sitting on the backseat. he lets out a heartwarming chuckle at your comment, glancing at the bag through his rear view mirror. "i can't believe your parents bought that for me. you think they'll make me return it when they find out we aren't together?", he remarks, and you do your best to ignore the little pang you feel at the reminder of your situation. his comment does make you snort though, and you nod along with him. "nah, you need it more than anyone. your airpods have seen better days."

he laughs again, and you wouldn't believe that you two were arguing back and forth like madmen some twenty minutes back. this feels familiar and comfortable, and you cross your fingers in case you jinx it. "do you remember that time when we planned a picnic..." jaehyun begins, a sense of nostalgia shining through his cheeks. "and you forgot to bring the speakers? and we tried blasting music through my one airpod?"

you can't stop the peals of laughter that escape from your mouth as you nod, covering your mouth when your snort makes him laugh as well. "remind me why we didn't just play the music straight from your phone?", you question, replaying the memory in your mind like it was recent. he pauses to think for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck while he hums. "yeah, what the fuck? why didn't we just do that?"

you're laughing in unison as you take this trip down memory lane together, the next few minutes of the car ride consisting of exclamations of "oh! remember when..." and "that time when...", both of you adding on to the memories with your own perspectives and insights. the fact that the conclusion of your little dispute remains ambiguous doesn't bother you too much at the moment, happy to just enjoy the warm atmosphere while you can.

jaehyun's animatedly recounting a story about your sister downloading a game on his phone when you face him, and the last thing you remember paying attention to was that she had somehow managed to spend a large amount of his actual money on it. your eyes are focused on him now, just studying him, and he seems to realise that you aren't listening to his story when he glances at you.

"what?", he questions, the corner of his eyes crinkling when he narrows them at you in an playful manner, taking one hand off the steering wheel to drum absentmindedly on his thigh. "nothing, i just...", you trail off, scanning his features. "you changed your hair. it's...nice. i wanted to tell you that earlier."

he clearly wasn't expecting the compliment, mouth opening and then closing as he tries to think of an admissible reply. "you like it?", he then asks, a shy smile tugging at his lips when he consciously cards his fingers through the longer bit at the back. at your reaffirming nod and heavy gaze, the expected pink sheen dusts his cheeks and though you can't see them, you know the tips of his ears are pink too. he mumbles something of a timid "thank you", both of you smiling like idiots while he trains his eyes on the road.

not too soon after, his car is pulling into your dark driveway. you can't help the sinking feeling in your chest, lips curved slightly downwards. none of the lights are on, save for the streetlight, illuminating the street in a ghostly, dim way. your house looks just like it had for the past many months, gloomy and lonely, and you're absolutely dreading the idea of moping around once again. if this day spent with jaehyun has showed you anything, it's that you're a 100% sure you've not moved on, and that you won't for a long, long time. simply put, you're still in love with him, and you'll have to carry the cross of your mistake for some time to come.

he switches the ignition off but neither of you move. you're sat in your dull driveway on an otherwise empty street, all the other lights of your neighbouring houses off. neither of you say anything, mostly because you're not sure what one is supposed to say in this situation, so everything is still.

"so–"

"well–"

you let out a nervous chuckle while he smiles a bit, both of you mumbling apologies for interrupting each other. "you go first", jaehyun compels you, but now you don't know what to say because you were just going to make it up as you speak. your mouth has a way of working faster than your brain sometimes, but neither seem to be too functional at the present moment. "no, you go", is all you got, and jaehyun has the nerve to roll his eyes, twisting in his seat a little so he's facing you.

"i was just going to say that we uh, reached your place", he claims in a deadpanned manner, but your car door is still locked and your seatbelt is still locked in. you think you must have lost your mind, hoping that he'd tell you to stay with him forever and never leave (which you would have agreed to in a heartbeat). "i guess we have...", you nod, looking out the window and observing your home. maybe it was the dread of going back to your old routine that gave you the sudden boost of confidence, but you realise he never answered your question from before.

"jaehyun...", you begin but falter when you think you might be overstepping, ultimately deciding to just ask anyway when he looks at you expectantly. "why did you agree to come today? we both know you didn't have to."

he looks like he was dreading the very question you asked for some time, shutting his eyes when he leans his head back against the headrest and sighs. "i don't know", is the answer he gives you, voice muffled through the palms of his hands that are rubbing his face tiredly. biting your lip, you have to hold back a similar sigh because you should've known he's not going to just tell you like that. you have no right to press, but yet you do, one more time. "jaehyun, please?"

maybe it's because you sound so meek, but he drops his hands in favour of looking at you, really looking at you, like he's searching your eyes. "why do you think?", he turns it back on you, but you know this is just his way of avoiding the question. "if i knew, i wouldn't be asking. i know you don't have to tell me, you don't owe me a single thing, i just–", you speak desperately with all of the confidence you can muster, worried that your bottom lip would start trembling again. "please, i need to know."

you're looking each other dead in the eye, and while your voice isn't strong, it's honest and raw, and jaehyun can sense that. you can see that there's a million thoughts running in his mind just by the pained look in his eye and your own heartbeat has picked up, the sound deafening in your ears.

"if you haven't figured it out by now, i don't know what to tell you."

thud. thud. thud. you wonder if he can hear your heartbeat over the sound of his, but the blood pumping through your veins is making your ears ring, because what did he mean by that? you hope it means what you want it to mean, but you can't just assume you know everything because you're delusional at this point. "jaehyun, what are you sayi–"

"i agreed because i'm still in love with you."

there it is. the silence after his confession is positively deafening, your mouth agape as your try to register what you just heard. your eyes flicker between his, searching for any signs that he's just messing you and that it's some cruel joke, though it would be completely in his right to fuck with you if he wanted. he's never looked more vulnerable, eyes trained on you in an almost frantic way, like he himself can't believe what he just said. the way he just blurted it out makes you think that he didn't fully mean to admit that, but it's out, nothing he could do to take it back.

"what?", your own voice sounds like an echo and you wish you had something else to say because you heard him loud and clear, but there's a burning ache in your chest that claws all the way up to your throat. the shock is evident in your voice, not knowing what to do with yourself as you visibly process his words. "tell me you're joking", you plead in a pained way, words barely above a whisper. he doesn't say anything, looking lost in his own thoughts as his eyes scan your face. "you don't hate me?"

"hate you?", he scoffs disconsolately, shaking his head slowly. "i couldn't hate you if i tried. and believe me, i tried."

you can hardly believe your ears. you know your heart shouldn't be pounding the way it is, it feels wrong almost for you to be feeling as relieved as you are. "after everything?", you insist dumbfoundedly, but the longing in your voice is palpable, even if you're trying to give him a way out. "i was so horrible to you, jaehyun." you hate the way your voice cracks, but jaehyun just sighs and offers you a sad smile.

"there's nothing you could do to make me hate you."

it's heartbreaking, how defeated he sounds, but he's also looking at you like you could do no wrong in his eyes. "i never moved on", you whisper, hesitance clear as you tell him the truth. "i couldn't delete any of our pictures, i still have all your clothes, sometimes i accidentally set the table for two when it's just me..."

he's blinking quickly, and if you didn't know any better, you'd say he was trying to hold back tears. your break-up did nothing but cause immense amounts of pain for the both of you, and you'd give anything in the world to make up the time lost. his wide-eyed and nearly motionless expression urges you to continue, ready to pour out your heart to the man you loved.

"i still have your number memorised", your face mirrors his, voice growing stronger by the minute. "all the gifts and letters you've ever given me, they're all still there in that shoebox in my cupboard."

"i thought about you everyday", his whisper is raspy, speaking right after you do. "every party i went to, i looked for you even though i knew you wouldn't be there. you know johnny tried setting me up with people?"

you try to suppress the little sting, but you feel it deep inside you. "he did?", you have to clear your throat, and you almost don't want to ask but you do anyway. he releases a sad little chuckle and nods, toying with his fingers. "yeah. i knew i was doomed when the whole date, i wished she was you."

the smile finds its way on to your face against your will, feeling that familiar lump make its way to your throat. "she could've made you happy, jae", you argue anyway because at the end of the day, you want the best for him, and you know you're far from the best.

"no one could make me feel the way you do, y/n", he replied honestly, and there's a sense of finality to his words, like he'd had this same argument with himself time and time again, only to come to this conclusion. “the thought of anyone else touching you made me sick”, he croaked, not missing the way his eyes ghost over your frame.

his words bring about a noticeable shift in the air, followed by silence. he watches you, and you watch him, breathing slow as your eyes dart across his face.”i don’t want anyone but you”, you confess slowly, and a few beats pass before you find it in you to speak again. "i love you, jaehyun."

silence.

you expected disapproval, maybe even a malicious scoff, but you certainly weren't expecting to feel a soft pair of lips against yours as he suddenly lurches forward.

you're stunned, so stunned that you don't even reciprocate the kiss, lips unmoving against his. it's only when he takes this as a sign of discomfort and breaks the kiss that you find yourself reacting, hands immediately making their way to caress his cheeks, leaning forward to chase his lips and close the distance between you. he lets out a sound of surprise against your lips but kisses you back right away, a hand wrapping around your neck from the back, tangling itself in your hair. the kiss is heated and so long overdue, tangible through the way his lips meld furiously together with yours, teeth clashing every now and then.

your hands make their way to his broad shoulders, one wrapping around them while the other comes to rest on his chest, gripping the material of his hoodie. you have the urge to be impossibly close to him, trying to lean forward to kiss him more fully but you're restricted by your seatbelt. it's almost as if he can read your mind, because the hand placed against your face now moves to press on the buckle to release you without breaking the kiss. "fucking seatbelt...", he mumbles disgruntedly against your lips, fiddling with the button until you hear it click, finally separating yourself from him to slip it over you. "there we go."

you don't stay separated for long because jaehyun uses the hand behind your head to pull you towards him again, capturing your lips in a way that makes all the air leave your lungs. "come here", he grunts, using his long arms to pull you clumsily over the gearshift and straight on to his lap. you settle yourself in to the somewhat awkward position in the enclosed space, but that's the last thing on your mind when all your thoughts consist of jaehyun, jaehyun, jaehyun. his lips are back on yours in a instance, tongue sweeping across your bottom lip messily and you gladly allow it to explore your mouth.

the air is impossibly thick, heavily contrasting to the cold weather outside the car, even his lips and hands feel warm against your hot body. you feel his hands grip your waist easily in this position, lips leaving your own to drag across the expanse of your jaw. you whine quietly at the feeling of his mouth sucking a particular spot on your neck, tilting your head back as you wrap your arms around his neck. "missed this", he muses, tongue peeking out to kitten lick at your neck, breath hot against your sensitive skin. "missed you."

the feeling in your chest when his hands find their way under your shirt and on to your bare skin is inexplicable, unable to stop the soft moan from tumbling from your lips when his big hands glide over your stomach, back and finally your breasts. everything about the way he's touching you and kissing you is greedy and urgent, like he's afraid you'll disappear from his arms if he loosens his grip even by a little bit. you'd be a fool to not match this energy, pressing into him while you squeeze your hands over his. "need you so bad, jae."

you're subconsciously grinding down against him needily, hips stuttering against his lap like you've never been touched before. "fuck", your eyes widen at the groan that leaves his throat, sounding absolutely guttural as he grips the skin of your hip harshly.

he's barely done anything and you're coming undone right in front of his watchful eyes, your panties dampening at the look on his face. "jae..", you whine when his fingers dip past the waistband of your pants, gently cupping your clothed core as you rut against it. "shit, baby", he marvels at the stickiness of your panties, feeling your wetness on his fingers just through the material. "you really missed me, huh?"

you don't even have the time to respond to his cocky remark before his fingers are slipping beneath the band of your panties to circle your clit, spreading the wetness around your folds. a breathy sigh escapes your lips, throwing your head back as he experimentally prods at your entrance and eventually slips a finger inside. "still so tight for me", he all but groans, pumping his finger in and out of you languidly, drinking in the sounds of your pleasure. he feels so blissfully familiar, and though you haven't been touched by him, or anyone for that matter for months, the stretch of his second finger feels the same kind of intimate as it did before, if not more.

you lean forward and press your lips against his once again, kissing him like you might never get the chance to again, all while you're grinding back down on his hand that's fingering you steadily with a thumb circling your clit at the same time. his free hand moves to bunch your top up above your breasts, peppering kisses over the tops of them. he wastes no time in pulling your breasts free from from their cups, attaching his lips to one nipple and swirling his tongue around it in a way that makes you cry out. "my pretty girl", he mumbles almost to himself while cupping your other breast, making a show out of it as his tongue flicks over your hardened bud over and over until your arching your back and pressing it further into his face. “thought about this all the time.”

keeping in mind that you're still technically in a public place, you bite your lip to contain the sounds of your pleasure, though jaehyun doesn't make it easy when he notices this and increases the pace of his fingers. the hand fondling your breast leaves it unattended for a moment to release your bottom lip from your teeth, smoothing his thumb over the swollen skin. "i've waited months to hear these sounds. let me hear you, baby", he all but purrs and that's all it takes for a moan to tumble out of your mouth, pressing your forehead against the side of his face while you screw your eyes shut out of pleasure.

with his attack on your sensitive buds and his fingers pistoning inside of you, you know you aren't going to last long. "already?", jaehyun chides with a small smirk, and it's embarrassing how well he knows your body, grazing his teeth against your nipple in a way that feels painful and heavenly at the same time. you can feel his rock hard bulge against you, and with the untimely grinding of your hips against him, you're sure this is torturous for him. "don't wanna come like this", you whine against his cheek, your entire body feeling sticky from the heat inside the closed vehicle. your puckered lips leave wet kisses all over the expanse of his cheek, and the boyish giggle that leaves his mouth makes your heart flutter. "wanna feel you, jae."

his head is thrown back against the headrest and his eyes are shut tightly, jaw clenched as he slowly slips his fingers out of you. though you whine at the loss of contact and you're almost grinding against the air, you want nothing more than to make him feel good as well. "want you to fill me up", you coo at him, softly linking your hands behind his neck as you test the waters with your words. it's clear they have an effect on him, both hands placed on your hips as he helps you lazily grind against his erection. "don't– have a condom", he grits out, hips bucking up to meet yours. "don't need one", you murmured immediately, knowing he wants this as bad as you do.

his eyes flicker open at that, one hand leaving your hip to brush some stray hairs away from your face, gently tucking some behind your ear. you could melt at the way he's looking at you, so tender and loving, a warmth spreading all over you until you feel like you have to look away. he doesn't let you however, hand quickly coming you to cup your cheek before leaning in place a small peck against your lips. "are you sure?", he sounds breathless, but still firm as his eyes glance between yours like he's reading them.

if he can read them, he'll know that you can't nod fast enough, dragging your hips across his needily to show him. "i'm sure. i want you, jae.", you're so needy that you don't even bother to take your pants or panties off fully, fingers fumbling with the waistband as you shimmy them down a little, leaving your underwear on. you swear your mouth waters when he unbuttons his pants and lets his cock spring out against his stomach, lustful eyes taking in the way he keeps his shirt up with his teeth. if this weren't such an awkward position, you'd have taken him in your mouth in an instant, knowing exactly what to do to hear the man in front of you whimper.

nudging your panties to the side, he focuses on collecting your wetness all over the tip of his dick, hissing at the contact. "please", you whine, not wanting to waste another moment, finally sighing in relief when he begins to press his cock inside you. he swears under his breath at the feeling, and you're feeling so stretched out just from him slipping it in even though you're still so wet that you just go lax in his arms until he bottoms out. "that's it", he grunts like he's holding back. "taking me so well, angel."

you preen at his praise, finally beginning to move your hips a little at his coaxing. sighing against the shell of his ear, he picks up the pace for you, not warning you before thrusting upwards to meet your movements with a groan. you can feel your mind going blank at the sensation, your moans sounding more like cries whenever he snaps his hips into yours, the obscene sounds filling the car. you're just so full, his hands gliding up and down your sides as he fucks deep inside you, making up for all the lost time. "you feel so good, baby", he barely gets his words out, but it gives you the encouragement to bounce up and down on his thick cock a little faster than before, his eyes widening at the feeling. "just like that."

he's kissing and sucking all over your neck again, lips ghosting over whatever skin he can reach and it's all so much, feeling a single tear stream down your face. he almost slows down for a second when he feels the tear drop on to his own face, eyebrows raised in surprise because he thinks he's hurting you, but he's even more shocked when you let out the high-pitched whine. "what's wrong, angel?", he mumbles into your neck, peering up at you carefully. you shake your head profusely, continuing to grind down on his cock. "i just- just love you so much, jae", you blabber incoherently, so wet that you're practically gushing around his dick.

"aw, baby", he shushes you sweetly, pressing his forehead against yours as his thrusts become more and more erratic. "i'm here. not going anywhere." the coil in your stomach is tightening and you can feel every inch of him inside you, more tears threatening to spill from your eyes before he's kissing them away. "i'm here."

he's hitting all the right spots inside you in this position, and he's basically doing all the work because you're like putty in his strong arms, all you can do is moan and cry out against him weakly. "i'm close", you warn him, but you know he already knows that, and you know he is too, slipping your hand down to where his rests on your hip and interlacing your fingers. "me too, pretty", he sputters through his teeth, giving your hand a tight squeeze as you start to come undone. “want you to cum. can you do that for me?”

"oh my god", you're crying out as you cum around his cock, body and mind going numb and ears ringing as the coil finally snaps. "cum inside me, jae, please", his eyes go wide at the way you're begging him, and he doesn't look like he can hold back much longer. "fuck angel, you- you sure–"

"yes, please, need you to fill me up", you cut him off, too sensitive from the way he's helping you ride out your high to move anymore. with a few more sloppy thrusts, his cock is twitching inside you before you lets out a guttural groan, his warm cum filling you up. you go limp against him, face nuzzled into the crook of his neck as the both of you try to regulate your heartbeats.

the sounds of your heavy breathing fills up the car along with jaehyun's soft murmurs of "so perfect" and "did so well for me". any doubts you had in your mind of this being a mistake in jaehyun's eyes are wiped away when he begins petting your head, gently smoothing your messy hair as he presses firm kisses to your head. his cock softens inside of you but he makes no move to pull out, wrapping his arms around your waist while you do the same around his neck, simply sitting in each other's presence silently.

you struggle but finally pick yourself up, gazing at his moonlit face from your place on his lap. “you okay? was that okay?”, he murmurs softly, his voice thick and eyes hazy as he traces little shapes on your back. “more than okay”, you reply tiredly, pressing your lips against his once again because you feel you’re in a dream-like state right now. you're sure he's the most beautiful man you're ever had the privilege of looking at, feeling incredibly vulnerable when you speak again even though he's looking at you with nothing but love in his eyes. "now what?", you question, suddenly feeling like you've jumped the gun when he opens his mouth to say something but stays silent. "never mind, don't answer that, we'll talk about it later", you shake your head, laughing a little breathlessly when he grins at you, pecking his forehead sweetly.

you look away from him and at your lifeless house, mouth working faster than your brain once again. "would you...want to come in?", you wince, feeling kind of stupid for asking but meaning it anyway. you're both comforted and thrilled when a large grin is plastered on to his face, feeling like maybe your home won't be as lifeless anymore.

"i think i'd love to come in."

[hoonsluvr]

CHERRY

박성훈 ꒰ park sunghoon ꒱ — genre; summer au, best friend’s older brother, forbidden romance, smut, a bit of fluff, angst ୨ৎ cw; p in v, unprotected sex, spit, choking, gagging, oral f.rec, mating press, edging MDNI. ⟡ synopsis; you never thought that an unexpected obsession formed during your trip to southern italy would teach you one life’s cruelest lessons — never fuck your bestfriend’s brother ୨ৎ wc; 4.8k — library ⭑.ᐟ

inspired by; cherry - lana del rey

isla yaps; hii, this is my first work so i’m a bit nervous!! lmk what you think of the layout and feedback in general is appreciated! :)

Was it wrong that you felt happy when your parents announced they wanted to take a vacation alone this year?

You sit opposite them at the dining table, your mom explaining herself for the hundredth time over. Clearly she felt guilty about it but you didn't mind. “You know its our anniversary during that time darling and I hope you understand that we love having you with us, of course we do, but 50th anniversaries are rather special and we’re booking a honeymoon resort.”

You feign a look of sadness to act like you’re listening but your mind is already elsewhere. It wasn’t that you didn’t like spending time with your parents, that wasn’t the problem at all, but now that a family vacation was out of the picture, joining Stella’s family in Italy was back in the conversation.

Soojin, or Stella as she liked to be called was your best friend, your ride or die. Years ago, when you moved to a new town, the Park family were your next door neighbours and you and Stella quickly became close, bonding over your hatred for the town and its people. You two had always felt suffocated in its environment, the way everyone knew everyone’s drama, everyone’s problems, everyone’s secrets. You promised each other that one day you would escape and explore the world together for that very reason.

You were over at her house so much that you were basically a part of the family. You had your thumbprint on their security system, the password to the garage door, and even your own designated chair at the dining table. Her mom used to jokingly call you two sisters, but honestly, that didn’t feel far off. You and Stella had grown up together, seen all of each other’s phases too. The cringe phase, the boy-obsessed phase, oh god- the emo phase, and yet your friendship was still going strong. From weekend sleepovers where you giggled and gossiped all night long to crying on each other’s shoulders after not feeling accepted in school, to smoking your first blunt together, you two had been through every whirlwind experience together. After all these years, you still struggled to express just how much admiration you held for her.

And now, it had come. This was the last summer you had left with her. In 3 months you were going to head North to New York City, to pursue a degree in arts while Stella would remain in your hometown. When you broke the news, you expected her to be angry at you because of the promise you made to travel together forever, but she simply smiled and told you she was proud of you and that she always knew you would make it far.

You felt a pit in your stomach thinking about being apart, you had never really imagined life without her, so imagine your relief and excitement when she proposed that you join her family on their vacation to Italy this summer. One last chance to have the time of your life with your best friend while you were both still young? No one could catch you dead saying no.

-

“Mom, please.” You beg, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from frustration. You sit across from her on the kitchen island, sipping on a mango smoothie as she prepped dinner for tonight. At this point, the conversation had been going on for far too long and both of you were running thin on patience. “I just don’t understand why you won’t let me go.” You huffed, used to getting your way.

Your mother sighs. “Sweetie, I’ve explained this to you. The Parks have done so much for you, your entire life! I just don’t want you to be a burden on them when they’re trying to have a family vacation. They're extremely sweet for offering but it’s a tough situation.”

“Ugh!” You exclaim and your mother shoots you a don’t-be-so-dramatic look. “They offered to have me! And besides, with you and daddy going to Mexico and Stella going to Italy, I’m going to be alone this summer. My last summer before college is going to be spent wasting away. It’ll be years before I see Stella again!” You pout, your eyes sparkling with hope as you see her expression soften, triumphant that you clearly struck a soft spot.

“We’ll see about it darling.” She sighs.

Even with her weary expression, all the tell-tale signs were there. She had been convinced. You stand up, satisfied as you go to text Stella the news.

And that’s how you find yourself going to the South of Italy for three weeks with the Parks: Stella, her mother and father, and her older brother Sunghoon.

Sunghoon had always been a little shy and introverted making him hard to talk to, your four year age gap not doing much to help create a relationship either. Despite that, Sunghoon had always tried being sweet to you. After many attempts of trying to talk to him over the years, you finally managed to break his shell the one time he rescued your prized possession, a teddy bear plush named Ben, from a tree branch. You still remember the warm hug he gave you when you cried over Ben’s stitching being torn and ever since that day, although you wouldn’t call yourself friends, the relationship shifted. It changed from nods of acknowledgement to smiles, from waves of greeting to hugs.

During your last years of middle school, you even developed a small crush on him but you never once told Stella, knowing she would have killed you. Once you turned fourteen, Sunghoon left to go for college and you hadn’t seen him since then. You had no idea what he was like now, his personality, his likes and dislikes, his interests. Honestly, the thought worried you a little. You just decided you would try sticking to Stella on the trip, hoping that things wouldn’t be awkward.

Only if you knew. Only if you knew what was about to happen, you never would’ve chosen to go on that godforsaken trip.

-

The last minute nature of your decision to join the vacation meant that tickets weren’t available on the same flight as the Parks, so you booked one for a flight that arrived in Italy just two days later. You didn’t mind however, you were just excited to spend time with Stella.

And so you arrive in the quaint beach town of Taormina, located on the shorelines of the island of Sicily. The drive from the airport to your location spans over rugged hills overlooking the Loian sea. You maintain small talk with the barely english speaking driver, chatting about what to do in town and what beaches to visit. A gasp leaves your mouth as the taxi comes to a halt outside a stunning Italian villa style Airbnb. You know the Parks aren’t exactly middle class, neither were you, but you weren’t expecting this much grandeur.

Cobblestone bricks line the pathway to the house, leaning up against the ivy covered walls. Heaps of colorful potted flowers are placed at the entrance and a wooden gazebo in the corner catches your eye. Stella is sitting in the gazebo, sipping tea. When she sees you, she jumps up in excitement and rushes over.

“You’re here!” She squeals and twirls you around as you both laugh excitedly. You hear claps of joy from the back as Shin-ah, Stella’s mom steps out of the front door, her husband, Ji-hun in close pursuit. You quickly wish the driver goodbye and thank him before hugging them both fondly.

“Gosh, we only just saw you a month ago and you’ve already become prettier!” Shin-ah exclaims, making you blush and immediately resort to your usual ‘humble’ deflections that you recited out like a poem whenever she complimented you.

You lean to the side, getting up onto your tip-toes to get a glimpse of the dark haired boy who just stepped out of the door. Sunghoon. His short black hair was now grown out into a mullet and he no longer held the smiley expression that his face once always used to carry. You glance at his arms, his thin tank top showing off his muscles, a striking difference to his previously scrawny build. He looks so different. He’s grown now and more confident, no longer the sweet, shy boy you used to crush on. Theres no doubt, Sunghoon Park has matured. He’s a man now. A fucking gorgeous man, that too.

Sunghoon murmurs a half-hearted greeting towards you, reminiscent of the way he used to speak to you before you two became comfortable. You’re not surprised-it had been years since you’d seen him. Traces of your previous dynamics were long gone by now. You return the soft greeting as Shin-ah ushers you into the house, Stella following behind, wheeling your luggage in.

“You must be hungry, come, we’ve already set the table.” And sure enough, the intricately carved wooden dining table was all set up with dishes, cutlery and a large pizza in the centre. Dinner with the Parks is comfortable as you go back and forth with them, discussing the trip’s itinerary, recent stories and more.

Shin-ah glances at Sunghoon before turning back to you. “So, you and Sunghoon haven’t seen each other in a while. He’s been asking what you’ve been up to.” It was horribly obvious that Sunghoon couldn’t care less about what you’d been up to. His mouth opens in annoyance at his mother’s words. “What? No I—" But he’s cut off by a sharp nudge from his father who scowls at him. Embarrassment pools inside of you and you laugh awkwardly before Shin-ah nods encouragingly for you to continue.

“Well uh— I’m going to NYU after this summer. I’m going to be studying art history and I’m hoping to get an internship with a local gallery this summer, after the trip of course. But yeah…” You trail off awkwardly as Sunghoon pretends to be interested. An awkward atmosphere settles over the table and you finish in silence.

After dinner, you head up to your room that you’ll be sharing with Stella. You’re sitting on the floor, unpacking your suitcase while she removes her makeup.

“Hey,” she turns to you, “I’m sorry about what happened with Hoon earlier. I don’t know why he’s acting like that.”

You wave it off. “No, don’t worry about it at all, it’s all good. I’m sure it’ll settle down in a while.”

She nods comfortingly but deep down you feel a little hurt. You knew that it wasn’t going to be the same but you didn’t expect him to be so cold.

-

After a few chaotic days of what felt like never-ending sightseeing and cold shoulders from Sunghoon, you finally collapse onto a picnic blanket out in the back-garden, your white sundress pooling around your knees. You roll over onto your stomach, kicking your legs into the air as you grab your book, the pages soft between your hands as you slowly flip through, trying to find where you left off. Pop. The sound of plastic popping as you open the box of glowing red cherries next to you. Your favorite.

You're a few pages in when a soft voice calls from behind you. “Hey.” You glance behind to see him standing there in a loose white shirt and khaki shorts, holding a book. He laughs softly as you scramble to straighten yourself. “No need for that, you can sit however you want.”

“No, no it's okay,” you shake your head, sitting up straight now, confused at his cheerful demeanour “what do you need?”

“I was wondering if I could join you,” he tilted his head, “you seem to be having fun.”

You squeeze internally. Something about Sunghoon was making you nervous right now but you plaster on a sweet smile nonetheless, “of course.”

You’re hyperaware of his every movement as he approaches and sits down next to you on the blanket. He holds up the book he had and it takes you a second to realise that both of you had gotten the same book to read, ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’. You smile at him, “that’s funny.”

“It is, isn’t it?” He hums. “How’s Ben doing?”

You laugh, the anxious feeling in your stomach fading a little. There’s no need to be nervous in the first place, it’s just Sunghoon. “He’s doing okay. No more accidents since the last.”

The two of you fall into silence. He coughs. "Listen... I uh— I didn't mean to act that way when you first came."

You nod almost immediately. "You don't have to explain yourself, I get it, it's fine."

"No, I was acting like a jerk for no reason. I mean- you know how I am with people at first and I hadn't seen you in a while, it just took me a while to get used to. That's not an excuse for how I acted though, I'm sorry."

You peer at him. "I get it, I figured that's the reason you were acting distant. It's okay. I'm glad we can be pause normal again." You both look at each other and for a second you feel him glance at your lips but his eyes move away so fast, it's impossible to tell. He smiles softly at you.

-

Your legs are crossed as you lounge lazily on a chair on the balcony, taking in the view of the salty sea, waves lapping against the rocks. Once again, a box of perfectly round Italian cherries lay on the table behind you. You couldn't seem to get enough of them.

“You must really like these.” Sunghoon murmurs from behind you, pointing at the box of the sweet fruit. You smile lazily at him, not surprised by his interruption. Somehow, he had been finding you in all sorts of odd places recently, almost as if he was looking for you from the second you disappeared from view. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Sunghoon thought you were pretty. You realised fairly quickly from the way his eyes flicked up and down whenever he saw you, resting on your tits for just a second more.

“They’re my favorite.” You nod, grabbing one and popping it into your mouth as he watches. Maybe it's the way he’s staring at you hungrily but a newfound confidence takes over you. You reach for another cherry but this time, you make sure to hold eye contact with him, looking up with big bambi eyes as your tongue swirls around the sweet fruit. You bite into it and the red juice dribbles down your chin, your eyes glinting. His finger instinctively reaches down, a millimetre away from your chin before you nod to give him permission.

He swipes at the juice on your chin, before pulling his finger back, licking it slowly. Your throat suddenly feels like it’s constricting. You should not be doing this— holy shit you should not be doing this. You stand abruptly, coughing slightly. He doesn’t react much but a slight smirk plays on his face. Pause. “I should go,” you stutter as you rush into the house, heart hammering in your chest.

You try your best to ignore him for the next few days because you had no idea what possessed you to do that. Your mind constantly replayed the moment. The way he stared at you. The way he touched you. The way he licked his finger. God you were so fucked. Every time you saw Stella, you couldn’t help but feel guilty but then you tried comforting yourself. It wasn’t like you had done anything wrong, nothing actually happened.

You didn’t even notice what you were doing at first, your actions seemingly innocent in your mind. You just wanted to make the most of the summer clothes you owned and the heat in Taormina was intense, right? But your skirts were growing shorter and shorter by the day, your bikinis became skimpier and skimpier. That, accompanied by the way you tucked your hair behind your ear when he came around, batted your eyelashes at him, knowing it made him crazy-you hadn’t even realised but that little incident between the two of you had made you develop a little obsession with Sunghoon Park, just like the one you had all those years ago. And you were desperate for his attention now.

Right from your shiny olive skin that glistened in the Italian sun to your long hair that swayed as you walked, Sunghoon Park knew you were gorgeous, even more so now that you were making it painfully obvious. He knew. He knew you were doing all of this entirely on purpose but that didn’t mask his staring as you lather on sunscreen, resting beside him in the sand in a floral pink bikini.

You know you have him.

"Hey can you help me with this?" You ask softly, holding out the bottle of sunscreen towards him. His jaw ticks but he takes the bottle from your hand.

"Actually," you smile sweetly, "on second thought, I think I'm done, what do you think?"

If looks could kill, you would strike dead at this very moment from the way he was looking at you. “What’s your game?”

You stare at him, not expecting him to say those words so soon. “What do you mean?” You pout, pretending to be oblivious, a little upset that you didn't get to have that much fun with him before he called you out.

He scoffs. “You know exactly what I mean. Don’t play dumb. You like teasing me and then pulling away at the last moment, don’t you?” When you don’t respond, his expression hardens. “You’re trying to win a game you don’t even know how to play.”

Before you get the chance to respond, the two of you are interrupted as Stella runs to you, laughing.

“Hey are you having fun?” Stella smiles down at you.

“I’m having a great time, thanks.”

She nods as she moves to sit down on the sand, between you and Sunghoon.

Theres a moment of silence before you speak. “Hey Stells, thank you for letting me come. I appreciate it a lot. I would’ve had a terrible summer without you and I’m just really glad we get to spend time together before … you know …”

She smiles at you again. A genuine smile. “I’m gonna miss you. A lot. And I know you’re worried but i’m not, because I know we’ll always be friends. We’ve been through everything together and stupid New York isn’t going to change that.” As she pulls you in for a hug, you feel a pang in your heart. You love your friend and the last thing you want is for her older brother to come between you. But you just can’t help yourself.

You glance up at Sunghoon who's watching you two hug with an emotion in his eyes that you can't quite place. He meets your eyes and you shut yours, unable to look at him any longer. You hold onto Stella tighter, suddenly feeling disgusted with yourself. You're sickening. Sickening and selfish.

-

Your phone screen shows 4:36AM and sleep wasn’t coming. You sit up, rubbing your eyes as you glance at Stella snoring beside you. You get out of bed slowly, the wood creaking beneath you. You desperately needed a walk to clear your mind. Stepping into your fuzzy slippers, you leave the room, entering the narrow corridor outside. Sunghoon’s door stands tall in front of your face, which you would have normally ignored, except today, streaks of light peek out of the crack at the bottom. Why is he awake?

You know you shouldn’t. You know you really shouldn’t but you do it anyways. You knock softly. A few moments pass and you think he might not come. Right as you’re about to leave, the door clicks open and he stands there in grey sweats, shirtless. You choke a little but he doesn’t notice, neither does he seem surprised to see you.

He looks you up and down and you realise what you’re wearing—a tiny pink lace-trim nightgown, barely covering anything. He’s smirking now. “Come in.”

“Uh I—“ You start to say as you begin to regret your decision but you’re cut off by his harsh tone, his smirk now faded, replaced with a hardened expression.

“That wasn't a question. Come. In.”

You swallow nervously as you follow him into the room and shut the door behind you. Sunghoon sits on the edge of the bed, motioning for you to stand in front of him. You do as he asks and now you're staring down at his face, your silky hair hanging loosely, brushing against his cheeks. He starts to grab harshly at your waist and you gasp slightly.

"You think this is funny huh? Playing all these games? Do you have any idea what you're doing at all?" When you don't respond he starts again. “What? Cat got your tongue? Are you all nervous now? Don't be, you started this after all."

You breathe out shakily, hands finding his neck. "Please—"

"Please what?" His smirk is back, he likes that he's finally the one in control. "Say you want me."

"God I want you, I do." You whine pathetically. And whatever little power you may have had over him was gone, he had claimed it back. His dark eyes glint sinisterly as he stands, picking you up by the waist and placing you down onto the bed. Your legs are raised, being held up by his hands as he presses kisses on your left ankle. He slowly makes his way down, nuzzling his nose into your inner thighs. His teeth lock onto your panties and you gasp as he drags them off, discarding them on the floor, leaving you exposed.

"Fuck you're beautiful."

He dives in again, his nose pressing against your clit as he laps harshly at your folds. You throw your head back, a jerk reaction to the sudden sensitivity. You cry out and feel him immediately stop what he was doing. You whine softly in annoyance. "Wow baby, it seems like you really want my sister to know I'm fucking you right now." You swallow harshly as his eyes shoot daggers at you. "Keep. Quiet."

He's looking at your pussy now. You wait, burning to see what he would do. And he spits on it. You gasp, biting your lip to stop the moan. He spits right on your pussy, using his fingers to spread his saliva around your messy area. He begins to lick up your folds again, pressing his tongue down on your clit.

You can't handle it. It's pathetic but you already feel a knot building up in your stomach. "Hoon— I'm going to—"

"Not yet," he spits out, coming up.

You moan weakly in protest but he doesn't seem to care. "You don't deserve to cum yet. You've not been a very good girl have you?" You shake your head.

His hands reach for his pants now, pulling them down in one quick move and you could see how painfully hard he is. Your eyes widen as he pulls out his cock. It was big. Too big. Bigger than you'd ever had before and you didn't know if you would be able to handle it. He laughs, looking at your expression. "Don't worry baby, we'll make it fit."

He pushes your legs up all the way and you were practically bent in half in front of him, your knees blurrily shifting in and out of your peripheral vision. He lines his cock up with your entrance and rubs the tip across your wet folds, groaning softly as his eyes shut. Without warning, he pushes it in and you shriek in surprise, causing him to shove his fingers into your throat. You're choking around his fingers now as he thrusts into you, quickening the pace. Tears stream down your face as you gag, you're close again, you can feel it, but so can he. Just as you're about to reach your high, he stops his motion again and you lean back into the bed, panting hard. You're desperate for release now but as you stare up at his fucked out face through your lashes, smirking down at you, you know he's not going to give you that release anytime soon.

So you go four more rounds. Four more rounds of chasing that desperate high that he pulls away from you at the last moment. You're fucked up now, sweating and panting, your hair splayed across your face as you cried and cried, begging him. The sun had risen now and it pooled in through the window, enveloping you in a warm glow, making your tan skin look golden.

"God baby, you look so fucking sexy right now." Sunghoon reaches an arm towards the desk nearby, where a small pile of digital cameras lay. Stella's digital cameras. The one's she had excitedly bought for the trip, wanting to capture every memory. He points the lens of one of them at you and you don't even have enough energy to protest. Click. And just like that, a picture of you in one of your most fucked up moments was captured forever. He tosses the camera aside, turning his attention back to you.

"You up for one more?"

Strings of gibberish come out from your mouth and he chuckles as he pushes into you once again. He thrusts in and out and you're moaning loudly this time but neither of you cared anymore. You're so sensitive at this point that it doesn't take long for that familiar feeling to arise again. This time, Sunghoon lets you have it. You let out a strangled moan as you feel your orgasm wash over you. Pure fucking euphoria. He collapses on top of you after cumming as well. You reach out, your hands tangling in his hair, stroking his face gently.

You realise you haven't kissed yet. You lean down, placing a gentle kiss on his pink lips. He kisses you back immediately but there is no lust behind it. "You're a goddess, you know that?" He speaks, muffled against your arm. You laugh this time, reaching for the camera next to you. Click. Another picture. But this one is much cuter, the two of you staring into the camera, laughing as your arms are wrapped around him. Click. And another. He's kissing you and you just want to stay in this moment forever.

-

The remainder of the vacation is spent stealing glances and kisses with Sunghoon as you two sneak away at random times together. You visited his room every night, sometimes it was sex and sometimes you just wanted to cuddle.

If there was one thing you were sure of by the end of the vacation, it's that you were madly, madly in love with him. And he was in love with you too.

-

1 month later

You step into your room, flopping onto the bed, exhausted from your shift at the gallery. You pull out your phone to texts from both Stella and Sunghoon. Sunghoon's reads 'see you tomorrow :)' while Stella had texted to cancel your bar plans for the night, wanting to hang out at home instead. You almost feel relieved, too tired to even think of going to the bar. Instead, you quickly change your clothes and head over to the house next door. Shin-ah opens the door and she's delighted to see you as ever.

After exchanging some small talk, you head upstairs to Stella's room, briefly glancing at Sunghoon's door.

"Hey Ste—“ You stop. She isn't there.

You look around, confused for a moment before realising she's sitting outside on the balcony.

"Hey, what's up?" You smile at her as you take the seat beside her.

She doesn't respond, staring straight ahead into the pink sky. She's holding an envelope, nothing too special, just a plain white envelope.

"Do you know what this is?" She speaks for the first time, holding the envelope up, still refusing to look at you.

Your eyebrows furrow. "No?"

She breathes out, finally turning to meet your eyes. You recoil slightly when you see the wild anger looking straight at you. She opens the envelope slowly, almost teasingly. "You know..." She trails, "I recently sent in the film from the trip to be developed."

Your stomach drops.

She knows.

The envelope is finally open and she pulls out three photos. The first one of you laid down on the bed, fucked out with his cock still inside you, then you and Sunghoon are hugging naked, then you're kissing.

You're going to throw up.

"Look at me." She speaks softly, gently, but her voice is full of venom.

You look up to meet her eyes but you just can't do it. Your world is spinning.

"I want you to go to New York," her voice drops to a whisper, "and never come back. I never want to see you again. I never want you to see my brother ever again. Do you understand?"

You're nodding now, pleading silently, tears streaming down your face but you know it's not going to do anything.

She takes your nod as a yes. "Good, then we're clear."

[mi55delulu]

movie goers

pairing: jungkook x fem reader

synopsis: starting off on the wrong foot with your new neighbor was not on the top of your bucket list, yet you’ve made an enemy of jeon jungkook in less than 24 hours. unlucky for you, he’s not backing down either.

genre: enemies to friends to lovers (e2f2l)

wc: ~16.4k

cw: not so cute meet, slice of life, slight angst, fluff, mature language, mean jk and mean oc — they get better though, cheating (not main characters), fwb (not main characters), mutual pining, oc is lowkey a hopeless romantic, 18+ ONLY - MINORS DNI 🔞, smut, oral (f&m receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, love love love. if i got any rules/regulations wrong, i didnt. leave me alone, it’s fanfic 😇✨also written in lowercase bc that’s just how my phone setting is and i’m too lazy to go back to capitalize … ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

a/n: yuh … inspired by real life events. anyways, this is the first time i’ve posted a fic on this page. i’ve been an avid reader (still am) but i’ve been wanting to put something out too. so here’s my gift to close out 2024. also, i miss jk. I MISS BANGTAN. ;-; enjoy and lmk your thoughts!

—

if you had to describe your ideal neighbor in three words, it’d be: mindful, quiet, and kind. cause that’s what your neighbor, mrs. lee, was to you in the last three years you’ve lived in this apartment complex. she kept to herself, walked her small crusty (but cute) senior white dog, and brought you leftover cookies when she baked too much for her grandkids. you always had a feeling she made just the right amount with you in mind, but of course she’d never tell you.

so when she broke the news that she was going to move into her son’s home because they’ve been worried about her living alone, you were happy for her — happy that she’s going to get taken care of, but sad that you’ll be losing a great neighbor.

you tell her whoever moves in after her probably won’t be as good of a baker. she simply laughs and tells you to be nice.

three months pass and you hear footsteps outside your door one afternoon. when you try spying through your peephole to get a glimpse of the commotion, you see boxes stacked on the side of apt# 305.

finally, someone was moving in.

some of the boxes were spilling onto your welcome mat, but that didn’t really bother you. you were more curious about your new neighbor … er, perhaps neighbors. so any clue on whether it was going to be an individual or a family moving in would give you an idea of who you’ll be living next to.

unfortunately for you, all the boxes were neatly sealed off.

“dang it.” you mutter to yourself while squinting at the labels on the boxes. clothes, kitchen, shoes … workout? well, okay no indication of toys so you can safely assume there aren’t any kids … yet.

you look at your clock, it’s about time you head out to get your mail anyways. maybe you’ll bump into your new neighbor(s).

except, it wasn’t as easy to spot who exactly was going to be moving in with all the different movers. you sigh and sift through your mail as you walk up the stairs to your apartment. most of the boxes that were outside had already been moved inside the apartment by the time you returned from the mailroom.

as curious as you were of who your new neighbor could be, you had better things to do … like binge watch your kdramas before your shift starts. maybe if you’re feeling extra nice … you’ll say hi later. no one wants to start off on a bad foot with their neighbor. you fumble around your pockets for your keys and eventually hear your locks click open when you’ve successfully unlocked your door.

“hey, neighbor.”

you turn. now, in all your 28 glorious years of living, you can easily count the times you’ve been starstruck on one hand. seeing the northern lights by accident on your way home in 2024, meeting your favorite youtuber at a late night diner when you were 15 years old, and being noticed by one of the highest ranked players in maplestory’s world chat.

the person in front of you? a sight to behold. tall, killer smile, numerous piercings, and a forearm adorned in tattoos. yeah. you don’t think starstruck would fit for this occurrence, but what you do know is that they’ve gotten you tongue tied.

“welcome!” you blurt out and give a tight-lipped smile before barreling through your entryway. you don’t give yourself another second to study his expression once the door shuts behind you. were you lame to run away from your new neighbor? sure. will you regret this? well, the cringe is already seeping in. you’re probably branded as the weird girl now … whatever.

what’s done is done.

you don’t know if 305 is mindful, quiet, or kind.

but fuck, he’s hot.

—

305 was not quiet.

you know it’s a housewarming party with a couple of his friends. he didn’t have to tell you … you heard them loud and clear through the walls several times as they clinked their shot glasses for the 11th time that evening.

you’re texting your frustrations to dohwan, your boyfriend (?) er … someone you’ve been talking to (and fucking) these last 2 years. he hasn’t quite put a label on the relationship just yet and claimed that he is only seeing you. labels didn’t really matter to you but as time grew, you’ve come to like him a lot and wished for something more. he’s career-driven, great in bed, and knows how to whip up a good breakfast the morning after he stays for the night. he was supposed to come over tonight, but told you he got caught up with work. it’s times like these where you feel a level of uncertainty with dohwan. you spiral and don’t feel as secure as you want to be.

you shouldn’t feel hurt or disappointed … but you do, because hell, alright … maybe you didn’t just like him.

you love him.

you’re not embarrassed that you told him 9 months into seeing each other. has he said it back? no, but that’s okay! everyone has a different timeline when it comes to feelings. you could only hope he meets yours soon enough. why else would he stay for this long?

back to the situation at hand.

you’re not an irritable person, but the least 305 could’ve done was given you a heads up that he was going to have a celebration. you would’ve asked to stay over at dohwan’s in that case.

another round of laughter erupts through your walls and you grit your teeth in annoyance.

“fuckin’ hell,” you throw the covers off your body and march out of your apartment. you find yourself glaring at 305’s door — a juxtaposition from how you usually looked when mrs. lee used to reside here.

god, you missed her.

you knock on the door a few times, taking note how the chattering from the inside decreases and some footsteps grow close to the door.

again, you almost want to want to run back to your apartment when you’re face to face with 305’s handsome confused face.

realizing it’s you, 305 smiles, “oh, hey—“

“it’s nearly 12 a.m. do you mind?” you cut him off.

his smile drops and he leans one shoulder on his doorway.

“sorry,” he says, “we’ll wrap up soon.”

you’d usually drop something this trivial by now, but you’re in a foul mood. unfortunately for 305, this is will be his official first impression of you.

“how much longer is ‘soon?’ it’s been like this for 4 hours,” you really don’t mean for it to come out that way, but the damage is done.

little did you know, 305 wasn’t going to backdown either. he may be new to this complex, but he’s not privy to obnoxious neighbors. the only difference is that he thought you were going to be quiet and shy, much like the first meeting.

“don’t know.” he shrugs.

“i really don’t want to involve property management.” you cross your arms. it’s a half threat — you’ve never called because you never needed to … but you’ll flip through your 50 page rental agreement if you have to.

he mirrors your stance and looks out to your apartment’s door.

“well, sorry to burst your bubble, 307.” he says and you see red, “but management is aware of my get together. it’s not my fault they didn’t inform the other residents.”

“asshole.” you mutter under your breath.

he smiles again, a little less friendly and more condescending this time, “we’ll finish soon, 307. good night.” he shuts his door on you before you can formulate a sentence and you’re left outside in the dark.

—

“yo, jungkook … were we being too loud?” hoseok asks while popping a handful of m&m’s into his mouth.

“yeah, cause your laugh can be heard from all throughout korea,” jimin mocks, earning him a shove from hoseok.

“nah, don’t worry about it. just my neighbor saying hi.” jungkook plops down on the sofa with the rest of his friends.

“oh? should’ve invited them in. we have enough pizza to feed a village.” taehyung nudges his side.

jungkook laughs and shakes his head, “just scale down on the volume and we’ll be golden.”

jungkook loves good company, having lived with his friends for most of his college years, he was a bit reluctant to move out. it’s a little bittersweet, but all his friends are happy for him and his new journey in adulthood. he won’t have to deal with messy roommates and random guests … vice versa. as fun as it was to live in a house full of your best friends, at the end of the day, men will be men. gross, loud, and obnoxious.

not jungkook though, so he thinks.

“ha! called it,” jimin snorts, “you were being too loud, hyung.” this earns jimin a punch to the arm and hoseok’s booming laugh when jimin dramatically falls off the chair.

jungkook knew it was useless to request this of his friends, so he took it upon himself to give the property manager a heads up. lucky for him, the lady seemed more than happy to accommodate. she even left her business card with him after he signed the lease … something about calling her if there’s ever an issue with the apartment — any time of the day.

weird.

what’s weirder was his neighbor. from running away during the first meeting to demanding he end his housewarming on the spot. okay, to be fair, you didn’t, but you might as well have. it didn’t help that jungkook was hotheaded and gets a little irrational when something involved his friends.

so what if he thought you were pretty in your black pajama set? you called his friends loud, when in honesty, they could’ve been much worse. seriously. he knows jimin’s taunting held some truth. hoseok has been responsible for some noise complaints in the past. so this was considered manageable. plus, it’s not like he’ll be inviting them over every weekend.

but if it meant pissing you off, he might consider it.

alright, he wasn’t that cruel and he definitely doesn’t want to make living next to you unbearable. he’ll apologize first thing in the morning tomorrow, but for now, he just wants to enjoy his time with his best friends.

—

jungkook was going to murder you.

not literally, but he could if it wasn’t for the major hangover holding him back. he blinks twice, looks at the clock on his nightstand, reads 7:01am, and lets out a big sigh after another round of drilling vibrates against his wall.

fuckin’ hell.

it feels comical now that he’s in front of your apartment, face still swollen from sleep, but so visibly upset at being woken up at the ass crack of dawn.

“are you serious?” he asks, voice still laced with heavy sleep.

you, on the other hand, look put together and almost too happy this early in the day. jungkook can only rule you out as a psychopath — a pretty psychopath. your hair all in place, lashes kissing your cheeks when you smile at him, and not a single wrinkle on your clothing in sight.

“what’s up,” you peer outside your door just as he did last night, “305?”

he wants to let out a groan, but that’d give you too much power.

“drilling at 7 in the morning? that’s gotta be a violation.” his voice still laced with sleep, though, he’s sure to sound assertive.

“nope! here,” you smile and pull out your phone, the level of brightness makes jungkook squint, “county regulations allow work as early as 6:30am.”

“yeah, if there’s justification. there’s no reason for you to be drilling this early.” jungkook argues back.

you pout, evidently not sad at that revelation, “but my mental health. i was kept up all night by my neighbor and his friends … i need some wall decor to cheer me up. surely you could sympathize, right?”

you don’t allow him to formulate another thought as you’re shutting the door, “i’ll be done soon, have a good day!”

jungkook almost wants to laugh at how irritated he is, but all he can do now is try to get some shut eye before his shift starts. that is, if he can even go back to sleep.

should’ve asked his friends for some earplugs as a housewarming gift.

—

the drilling eventually came to a stop. only because you could not be bothered to wake up earlier than you had to and you think you made your point pretty clear to your neighbor — don’t fuck with me.

honestly, you’re not sure what came over you. you never liked causing issues for people and you’re also well liked by your work peers and friends, so this was out of character of you. it also didn’t help that your friends spurred you on and praised you for one upping him. as the rage dissipated from your system, you’ve come to the conclusion of why you acted out.

your new neighbor was a conventionally attractive man. he probably knows this too judging from the way he spoke to you — like you’d back down just because he said so. he probably was able to schmooze the lease manager into giving him a better rent deal and get pardoned for all the noise he made during his housewarming party. sucks for him; you’re not a fan of pretty privilege.

you had to set him straight, so drilling into a random piece of wood every morning right near his bedroom wall was the perfect revenge. you expected some backlash from him; surprisingly, he didn’t say a word to you after his first confrontation. so, you stopped the antics after the third day.

weeks later, you learned his name is jeon jungkook. not through a formal introduction … only because his mail got mixed in with yours and you tossed it onto his welcome mat. he eventually came to realize your name through the same way too.

though, he’ll always be 305 to you and you’ll always be 307 to him.

that’s fine.

you’ll scowl every time you see him and he’ll stick a middle finger up to you as well.

the feeling was mutual.

“so, are you still battling it out with your new neighbor?” dohwan asks one evening. his head was actually between your legs at the moment. you like having random conversations during sex, but talking about your annoying neighbor wasn’t on the top of your list.

“mm, yeah,” you moan lowly when he flicks his tongue on your clit. “well n-no, not anymore.” you correct yourself, “oh fuck, keep going.”

“good, i’m tired of hearing about him,” he chuckles against you and continues his ministrations between your folds. if you were caught off guard by his comment, you weren’t anymore. the pleasure coursing through your body is enough to make your head spin.

he moves away from your body once you’ve come by his mouth. without warning, he slips inside you and you hiss from the overstimulation, still sensitive from your previous orgasm.

“gonna fuck you so well.”he’s thrusting relentlessly, “it’s what you need, huh princess?”

you nod, too overcome by the power of his thrusts hitting all the right spots. dohwan is a little more vocal tonight — it makes you feel special but you’re also a little self conscious about your nextdoor neighbor hearing things. you’ve always kept it down even when mrs. lee lived next door, jungkook would be no exception.

people fuck, it doesn’t mean you can’t be courteous. you sure as hell don’t want to hear your neighbor fucking given that you’ve seen him bring back several different girls to the apartment these couple of weeks.

one thing you’ll commend jungkook for is not being a loud fucker in the bed.

“baby,” you whine as he pauses a little to listen to what you have to say, “we should keep it down.”

he tilts his head, reaches in between your bodies and circles slowly on your clit with his thumb while he resumes rocking into you. you keen and almost let out a moan.

“why? let the asshole hear.” he grunts when he picks up the pace again. dohwan kisses down your neck and leaves a red hickey on your collarbone. you let out a pretty sigh and wrap your legs around his waist.

“y-you,” he moans particularly louder and it throws you off slightly, “saw the way he looked at me today, right?”

you didn’t, but you definitely saw the way dohwan glared at jungkook and tightened his hold on your waist before entering your apartment. meanwhile jungkook had just come back from his evening run — at least that’s what you assumed since he was wiping away his sweaty hair from his flushed face coming up the stairs.

“baby, are you really going to talk to me about another man while we’re fucking?” you laugh and cup his face in your hands. he huffs in frustration but his eyes soften, it’s opposite to the brutal pace he’s set on your pussy.

“sorry,” he continues fucking into you and the room is filled with wet noises and his panting once again. even though he apologized, he does nothing to lower his volume.

knock-knock. the sound definitely did not come from the frontdoor, it was far too close to hear.

another series of knocks come and you realize it’s your bedroom wall. dohwan pays no attention to those sounds and is far into chasing his own high, but you move your hands over his mouth to muffle his grunts.

jeon jungkook is knocking on your wall.

he knows you’re having sex and you’ve become that obnoxious neighbor. if that wasn’t enough of an instant mood killer, you hear him blasting one of akon’s featured hits “i just had sex” to mock you and dohwan.

yeah, sexy time is over. you push dohwan off you and head into the bathroom to nurse your embarrassment.

shortly that night, dohwan leaves and it’s the first time you’ve gotten into an argument with him where you think he’s in the wrong.

—

people find it daunting to go to the movies alone. you’d agree until you were forced to go alone after no one wanted to go watch twilight with you in high school. it was awkward at first, but once the light dimmed and the movie started, no one cared about their surroundings.

that’s why you liked going alone. no one will pay attention to how alone you were. everyone in there will be focused on the big screen in front — you included. there was always something liberating about doing things alone too. ‘like yeah, stick it … i don’t need anyone.’ kind of energy.

the only thing you wished was to have someone to discourse with after the movie ended. it’s not a dealbreaker though. you could have easily asked dohwan to come with you, but you’ve been ignoring him since last week after the loud sex fiasco.

regardless, you’re watching moana 2 today. you’re sure it’s going to be a full house given that it’s the opening week. you can only pray that you won’t be surrounded by snotty (literally) kids. nonetheless, you’re excited and the theater was getting filled up as more movie goers come in during the preview. your row was nearly full, saved for the single empty seats on your left and right side.

score, no seat partners or snotty kids. you’ve won this time around.

you’re texting your friends and telling them your luck—

“ahem.”

you look up and you see two people standing in front of you. you’re sure it’s for the seats on your left and right side cause you double checked your ticket before sitting down and everyone else in your row has been seated for quite some time.

“can you move?” one person asks. weirdly enough, the voice is familiar.

even though the lights are low in the theater, you can see that it’s a man and a woman. and when you squint a little more at their figure, that’s when something catches your eyes. a tiger lily tattoo, the same one that your neighbor has.

no fucking way.

“hello?? can you move?” he asks again a little more aggressively. there’s no way he can’t recognize it’s you being that the movie screen is bright enough to shine a light on you. doesn’t matter. you weren’t going to move before and you definitely aren’t going to move now. hell, you’ve been asked plenty of times to move by both families and couples in the past — the difference was that they asked nicely. some were generous enough to offer you snacks when you did move for them.

jungkook? nah. no thank you. you’ll stay right where you are.

“nope.” you hold out your ticket to show your seat number and refocus back on the previews playing.

the girl behind him grabs his arm and gently asks him what seat numbers he got.

“k11 and 13.” he mumbles.

yeah, cause you had bought k12.

“oh, um, it’s okay! we wouldn’t even be talking during the movies anyways,” she reassures with a kind smile. “let’s sit so that we’re not blocking anyone?”

jungkook gives her a tight lipped smile and plops down on k11 while the girl takes k13.

“you’re fucking annoying for that.” he says only loud enough for you to hear. he’s angrily eating his popcorn and it makes you want to laugh mockingly. he’s dressed in all black with a silver chain dangling loosely around his neck. his hair is neatly styled and he smells nice. perfect for a first date … minus you being the factor to ruin it.

“i’m not the one that booked shit last minute. do better.” you shrug.

the previews are still playing and you look over at the girl. she’s so pretty and probably too sweet for jungkook’s good based on how she handled the seating situation.

you feel a little guilty, but that feeling leaves you the moment jungkook hands over the popcorn to the girl, spilling a couple on your lap. you glare, he smirks, and the girl unknowingly takes the bucket from him.

well, two can play that game.

“your nails are so cute, where’d you get them done?” you ask.

she beams and shows you her set, “a little shop called banger nails down myeong-dong! they’re great.”

“oh, your nails are so pretty though. where do you get it done?”

truth be told, you haven’t had your nails filled in over 3 weeks … you know they look rough, but you assume she’s just trying to maintain a conversation being that her actual date was a seat away.

you tell her your shop and she tells you she’ll definitely try out that location when she has the chance. she offers you some popcorn and you unashamedly take some, making sure jungkook sees.

he clenches his jaw and rolls his eyes, but makes no move to turn to your direction.

“oh, how rude of me. what’s your name?” you reach out to shake her hands.

“nayeon,” she answers and takes your hand in hers, “you?”

you tell her your name and she nods with a sweet smile. yeah, she’s definitely too good for jungkook.

the movie starts and you’re whispering commentaries and giggling with nayeon. you both held hands during the intense scenes and teared up at the ending. it felt really nice to connect with someone like this right off the bat. she was kind and funny throughout the entirety of the movie too.

you can’t say the same for jungkook. he had his arms crossed with a deep frown stamped on his face for two whole hours.

when the movie credit rolls, jungkook stands up and holds out his hand to help nayeon up. huh, chivalry isn’t dead you suppose. nayeon stands up and waves at you.

“it was so nice meeting you! we should definitely hang out. here, let’s follow each other on instagram!” she fumbles through her purse for her phone and you notice how jungkook closes his eyes in frustration behind her.

you and nayeon exchange contacts and as you’re reclining your seat upright, you hear jungkook ask her, “would you wanna get some froyo? my treat for messing up on the tickets.”

“aw, it all worked out though! i met a new friend,” she gestures over to you. jungkook doesn’t really acknowledge nor claim he has already met you.

why would he?

“i’m glad,” he replies, “still though, i feel bad that we didn’t really hang out. still up for that sweet treat?”

nayeon nods and looks back at you, “would you like to join us?”

unbeknownst to nayeon, jungkook looks at you in desperation this time and shakes his head pleadingly. you think you’ve tortured him enough this evening and you don’t want to subject yourself to hanging out with jungkook. seeing the couple link hands in front of you, you’re sorta missing dohwan a little now … so you’ll reach out to him and see what he’s doing.

“no, it’s okay. you both should enjoy that sweet treat together. i’ll text you on instagram!” you wave and jungkook lets out a breath of relief.

“let’s go?” now, what shocks you is his soft smile towards nayeon. it’s almost a 180 to the attitude you’ve experienced with him. then again, maybe it takes a special kind of person to bring that side out of you. nayeon can definitely do that.

she waves at you again and this time jungkook also waves at you (begrudgingly) too. it’s not a goodbye, but a ‘see you later … unfortunately.’ type of wave.

—

you come back from dohwan’s place a little after midnight.

nothing special happened, just hung out like normally. he didn’t bring up the argument and you didn’t feel like talking about jungkook either. this was a regular occurrence in your relationship with him. fights were always difficult, but the mend was easy … cause you guys tend to just sweep the issue under the rug.

clean slate.

“jesus christ!” you jump at the sight of a tall dark figure when you reach the top of your floor. your hand flies to your chest to hold down your hammering heart.

“relax, 307. just me.” jungkook says.

“scared the shit out of me.” you murmur to yourself. you proceed to open your door just as jungkook gets his keys out too.

“fitting for a piece of shit like yourself.”

“excuse me?” you raise your brows in question.

“you heard me,” he steps back out from his door, “loud for no reason, fuck like you’re the only one in the complex, and don’t even have the decency to move a seat over. it’s no wonder the previous resident moved away.”

you really want to argue back, but he read you for filth. you really have been an asshole, still, the comment about mrs. lee hurt. you’re not what jungkook makes you to be, but you’ve given him every reason to perceive you in this manner.

“look, i’ll apologize—“

“nah, save it. i’m tired of being nice too. have the night you deserve.” with that, he goes into his apartment and you’re left contemplating how you let things get this bad and awkward with your new neighbor.

there’s no point in trying to talk to your neighbor now. it’s late. you’ll process everything first and try talking to him tomorrow.

—

the talk never happened.

because for the next 27 days, you’ve been woken up by a blender at 5 a.m. you let that slide for the first 5 days thinking it was jungkook’s way of venting out his frustrations, but by the end of the week, you were back on hating your neighbor.

today marks day 28. you’ve had a long day at work and dohwan has been dodgy with you this week. you call him during lunch to ask him why he’s been so distant and he immediately goes off on you saying that he feels suffocated and that he likes his space. it hurts. because you thought that when you really like someone, all you want to do is fill your day with them.

it’s the evening after your shift and you barely make it up the top of the stairs before you sit down and cry into your hands. it’s so fucking embarrassing crying over a man, especially for one that you really like. majority of the time, he really does make you feel like you’re on top of the world, but then take you down to the pits of hell.

highest of highs, lowest of lows.

it fucking hurts, but you also don’t want to be more alone than how you are.

you hear footsteps come closer and you immediately wipe away your tears and look to the other side of the railing. the person coming up doesn’t stop and walks up past you.

you know them. you know it’s him. you can tell by his cologne and the black converse he fancies.

when you think he’s far enough and in his apartment, you let yourself cry some more.

little did you know, jungkook stands at the top of the stairs, contemplating on whether he should talk to you. he thinks you’re crying because of the blender. or maybe you’re crying because you have to go home to a shitty neighbor. feels bad and guilty. hates to see women cry or anyone cry for that matter …

you hear footsteps from behind and sniffle into your hands.

“uh, 307?”

“what?” your tone is biting but that’s understandable. you’ve been under a lot of stress.

he sighs, sits down right next to you on one of the steps. his legs are long so his knees fan out a little to brush yours. you scoot away and look at him with your bloodshot eyes.

ah, shit. he feels even worse.

“i know i’ve been a dick to you from the start.” he begins.

you scoff and look away.

“you didn’t make things easy either, okay?” he rolls his eyes, “but if you’re crying about the blender …”

“oh for fuck’s sake! no, this isn’t about the blender, 305.” you huff.

“ah.” he opens his mouth and closes it to think what to say next, “lemme guess … boy trouble?”

“shut the fuck up.”

he does so this time for a few minutes until you start talking.

“look, i’ve been meaning to say this but i’m sorry for being an asshole to you. you’re new here and i gave you a bad impression of me. i don’t want to continue making this a hostile living situation for the both of us.” you meant every word you said and whether jungkook accepts your apology, that’s for him to decide. at least you were the bigger person to apologize and take accountability.

“thanks. i’m sorry for being rude too. clean slate?” he reaches his hand out for you to shake. you look at his tattooed hand and a part of you feels relieved at the prospect of a resolution. you shake his hand in agreement. his hand was warm, a little calloused, but the hold was firm and promising.

“you’ll stop with the blender now?” you muse.

“aw man, i was getting used to the daily fresh green smoothies … but i think the blender is on its last leg. i’ll spare you for now and buy premade smoothies,” he grins and winks jokingly. his smile was friendly, similar to the one he gave to nayeon that one date. speaking of which, you’ll have to text her when you get home … she’ll definitely want to hear this update. you’ve been religiously in contact with her since the movie date and she’s been your person when it came to complaining about jungkook.

you and jungkook stare out at the sunset and breathe in the autumn air. it’s nice and just what you needed.

“hey, 307?” jungkook breaks the silence after a while and you hum in response, “for what it’s worth, he sounds like a dying gorilla when he fucks.”

it was the first time you laughed all day.

—

things have gone back to normal between you and dohwan surprisingly. he apologized to you the next day and said he acted out because work has been on him lately. you accepted his apology.

on top of that, you and jungkook are … getting along? he’s actually not that bad. he greets you every morning and makes small talk with you about the weather when you are both at the mailroom.

oh, and the blender at 5 a.m. have stopped completely. he does complain that he misses his green smoothie, to which you reply that he can still make it … just not when you’re still in deep sleep.

“no thanks, the prep is annoying.” he brushes it off.

so one morning after grocery shopping, you pick up a cup of green smoothie from your favorite shop and drop it off at his door before he’s back from his usual run.

‘drink up, 305. - your lovely, sweet, favorite neighbor 307 ♡’

to which, he dropped off a matcha pastry to you the next day after you mentioned how you’ve been craving it lately.

‘peace offering to the demon. ps. you’re my only neighbor LOL - 305’

needless to say, this started a ritual between you and him dropping off snacks and drinks to each other.

so yeah, things have been good.

tonight, dohwan is taking you out on a movie date to watch wicked. it’s not your first choice, but you love a classic so you’re open to see this modern-day remake. plus, he’s been extra sweet to you too.

you’re standing near the ticketing area waiting for dohwan to get snacks when you suddenly hear, “307?”

you turn your head and it’s jungkook with a girl you’ve never met before. he waves and asks what you’re watching.

you point at a nearby wicked movie poster and he nods.

“we’re seeing the same movie too. sorry, forgot to introduce you both — this is jinah,” he gestures at the girl next to him and she nods at you in acknowledgment, “and this is my neighbor.”

“ohhh the one that drilled for a week?” she marvels at you and you flush at her question.

“three days,” he corrects, “but felt like an eternity.” jungkook looks back at you like it’s an inside joke and you feel warm under his gaze.

“he’s exaggerating. eternity is waking up to a blender for almost a month.” you fire back casually and it earns a laugh from everyone.

“well, you’re here with someone this time right?” he teases since he notices your makeup is done extra nice tonight and you have on a shorter beige skirt that cuts right at the top of your thighs. you looked beautiful whether or not this was for an actual date.

anyways, it’s all said in pure jest and he knows you take no offense in it when you laugh. knows he can joke around with you now — you’ve both established a good rapport.

“mhm. you bought tickets right next to each other this time?” you retort and he snorts at your question.

jungkook stares off from a distance and his gaze changes. he takes hold of jinah’s hand in front of you.

“i’ll catch you later, 307. enjoy the movie, ‘kay?”

“oh, okay,” you stare at jungkook in confusion, “it was nice meeting you, jinah. hope you both enjoy the movie.”

they both turn and head to the the concessions first and you’re back waiting alone again, but not for long.

a hand touches your lower back and you know it belonged to dohwan.

“ready?” he hands over your drink and you both head to the screening auditorium.

there’s an unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach, but you push it away once you’ve found your seats.

—

jungkook feels sick.

he’s seated behind you and dohwan. that was fine — wasn’t the problem.

the issue was seeing him be overly affectionate to you once he took notice of jungkook outside the auditorium. he doesn’t want to assume, but that’s the energy he gets from dohwan. it’s too much. though perhaps that’s how he usually was to you — he should be doting to you as someone you’re romantically involved with.

jungkook has a bad feeling about him.

jungkook has been on multiple dates this year, nothing ever leading to more because there wasn’t a spark beyond physical attraction. he doesn’t want to waste anyone’s time or hurt someone in the process if he were to continue something he sees no future with. which brings him to wonder why you still entertain that man when he clearly comes and goes as he pleases.

the sex can’t be that good … based on what jungkook was forced to hear that one evening. plus, he made you cry. that man can’t be good.

well, what does he know about relationships? he’s the “serial dater” while you’ve been with the same person. obviously jungkook is doing something wrong. maybe jungkook was just projecting.

he lets out a sigh when dohwan slips his arm around your shoulders to pull you closer.

“you good?” jinah whispers.

“yeah, sorry. didn’t realize how long the movie was. ass is starting to go numb,” he smiles apologetically.

she nods and refocuses back to the big screen. jinah was nice, but a little too uptight for his liking … she would stare back blankly at him when he tells a joke and it makes him question his own humor. he’s sure he’s a funny guy — you always seemed to laugh at his remarks.

shit.

why was he thinking about his neighbor when he’s on a date with another person?

he shakes away those thoughts and zones in on the movie. just a couple more hours till he can go home and relax. a bitter part of him hopes he doesn’t have to see you and dohwan enter your place together tonight.

—

you and jungkook have this thing where you go on walks and get your mail at the same time on fridays. that’s the day you work from home and he’s off.

you never liked walks but jungkook called you out one day for walking extra stiff up the stairs. you can’t help it … sitting for long hours at a desk job wasn’t ideal for your body, but it got the bills paid. by the end of your shifts, you’re too burnt out to do anything. you’re not like him who goes on routine runs at the ass crack of dawn. not everyone was fortunate to have a … wait, you’re not sure what he really did for work.

“305.” you deadpan, trying to maintain your big steps to match his long strides.

“hm?” he takes notice of your walking form and slows down his pace so that you can catch up. his dimples are on full display when he looks at you and it nearly makes you forget what you were going to ask him.

“what do you do for work?”

“what’s it to you, 307?” his brows raise in question and he chuckles when you scowl.

“just wondering. you seem to have a good work-life balance.” you shrug. he has to be making some form of income to afford the cost of living in this part of the city, so if it’s not an office job like yours, you’re curious what his line of work could be in.

“currently a tattoo apprentice, but i do art commissions on the side.”

“oh?” it makes sense. he had this artistic aura to him … tattoo apprentice also made sense too with his sleeve of tattoos. you wonder how many of those he designed himself.

“that’s very cool,” you mean it. you wish you could draw but your art skills could only rival a preschooler at best.

“yeah?” he scratches his behind his head, a habit you’ve noticed he does when he gets a little shy or flustered. “parents were super against it up until they saw what i made on my first commission.”

“it’s always like that with parents, huh? if you’re not a doctor or lawyer, nothing is ever enough for them,” you shake your head. it’s a small revelation, but jungkook feels the weight of your words. he can relate.

“you like what you do?” he tries to change the topic.

“it’s okay, gets the bills paid but honestly i’m developing a shrimp back from sitting at the desk all day.” you confess.

“good thing we’re going on these walks, miss hunchback.” he quips and nudges your arm with his elbow.

you stick your tongue out at him and his smile widens. jungkook takes out his phone and shows you some of the tattoos he’s assisted with on some clients these past months. you zoom in and stare in awe — the line work and colors were beyond beautiful and clean.

“they’re amazing, jungkook.”

his nose crinkles when he smiles at your compliment and cheeks flush at the usage of his real name.

“whenever you’re free, you can come over to check out my commissions.” he offers.

“yeah? you promise this isn’t some secret invitation to get murdered?” you smile cheekily at him and he playfully rolls his eyes.

“no promises,” he says and grins when you dramatically stop in your tracks.

“come on, 307. your lunch break is almost over and i gotta get my mail.”

—

you and jungkook return from the mailroom with stacks of envelopes and coupon advertising from random companies.

he’s behind you looking through his stack. among his many bad habits, one is not having the patience to open his mail in the comforts of his own home. typically by the time you both get to your respective doors, he already has the majority of his envelopes torn open.

men.

you stick your key into your door and hear jungkook gasp.

“shit!” he lets out a string of curses and you glance over where he’s at in front of his door … absolutely decked out in glitter.

“what the hell is this?” he’s dusting himself off, but that only serves to worsen the damage.

all the lights in your head go off. fuck. you had forgotten about the glitter prank order you made during the time jungkook was being a little shit with his blender. you totally forgot to call the company to cancel it …

you feel bad, but you can’t help but let out a series of giggles.

“oh my … jungkook, i’m so sorry,” you say in between your fits of laughter.

he looks at you in confusion but it doesn’t take long for him to piece things together. he tips his head back and looks at you incredulously.

“you did this? 307 … this is too much. how the fuck am i gonna get rid of all this glitter?” he opens his arms out and it makes you laugh even more to see him in this state.

“‘m sorry, i …” you try to catch your breath, “forgot to cancel the request and you were being such a dickhead that time.”

“i fuckin’ look like edward cullen.” he groans, looking at you with a serious expression and that has you doubling over.

he eventually joins you in your laughter, hands clutching his stomach.

“h-here,” you say in between tears, “i’ll help you.”

you dust off some flecks of glitter on his shoulders and reach up to smear it over his cheeks. this has got to be the highlight of your week.

jungkook pulls away and laughs at your antics.

“you think this is funny, huh?” he opens his arms again and you nod while stifling away your giggles, but your demeanor changes when he smirks deviously.

his arms circle around you and presses your face into his hard chest. jungkook is cackling just as hard as you are. he’s rubbing his body on your frame and you’ve accepted your fate cause you’re no match for his strength. you’re both even now. all glittered up, laughing, and having so much fun with this “misfortune.”

you won’t admit you’re enjoying his embrace. you won’t admit you fancy his cologne and aftershave. you won’t admit how you feel so soft against the hard ridges of his torso.

you definitely won’t admit how starstruck you got when he finally lets up and stares at you cheekily, unknowing of his doings and how pretty the glitter flecks frame his cheekbones and nose bridge.

he really was perfection.

little did you know, jungkook was also completely enamored by the way your eyes sparkle despite the crazy amount of glitter now stuck on your face and body.

did time freeze? no one has said a word but you can hear and feel your hearts pounding against each other in this close proximity.

“what the fuck?” a voice pulls both you and jungkook out from that dream-like state.

you look and it’s dohwan. confusion and anger is etched and evident on his face. he’s holding a bag of takeout, for what you assume was going to be your lunch. he stalks over and grabs your wrist and yanks you away from jungkook.

“hey man, it’s not what it looks like.” jungkook says. jungkook’s expression is neutral with a hint of annoyance in his tone. dohwan pays no attention to him and looks at you instead.

“are you cheating on me?”

“the hell, dohwan?” you stare back in shock at his accusation.

realizing how awkward this situation was, you start pulling dohwan towards your apartment. you quickly turn to jungkook where he was still standing, he looks concerned for you, “sorry, jungkook. uh, i’ll catch you later.”

he nods and moves around you and dohwan to get to his apartment door.

when you and dohwan are finally in the privacy of your home, you turn and he’s setting down the takeout on your coffee table. you can tell he’s still upset because he makes no move to sit down — he leans against your wall with his arms crossed.

“well?”

“well, what? it really wasn’t what it looked like, dohwan.” you roll your eyes, making your way to your sink to wash off the glitter on your skin. glitter was a bitch to get rid of, but you’ll do just about anything to distract you of dohwan’s awful attitude. you have about 10 minutes till you have to get back to work and don’t have the time to be arguing.

“don’t fucking lie. you’re always raving about how nice he is to you now. and i’ve seen the way he looks at you. that’s not some ‘friendly neighbor’ shit,” dohwan raises his voice in frustration.

you toss the kitchen rag onto your counter and turn, “what’s so wrong about me talking about how someone is nice to me?! at least you know about the people in my life, but i don’t know jack-shit about yours. i don’t know what you’re insinuating, but you need to check yourself.”

“don’t try to spin this on me. whatever is going on with you and your neighbor, needs to stop.”

“literally nothing is happening between us??” you run your hand over your face, “i can pick and choose who stays in my life, dohwan. you can’t control that.” you try to level your breathing. you hated feeling like your partner laid claim on you as if you were some sort of property and had ownership.

don’t cry. don’t cry. don’t cry.

his eyes soften after realizing what he implied and he comes closer to you. he rubs your forearms and pulls you in for a hug. you let the tears fall now.

“i’m sorry. i didn’t mean it like that. it’s just … i was insecure.” he confesses.

you sniffle into his chest, “why?”

he chuckles, “my girl hanging around a good looking dude? who wouldn’t be insecure?”

his girl.

“wasn’t aware i was your girlfriend.” you pull away from his warmth and regret seeing the glitter you’ve transferred onto his clothing in the process.

“well … i mean, you’re technically not. who needs labels?” he brushes you off and sits on the couch now. you’re left standing there, another wave of uncertainty washes over you. 5 minutes till you need to start working … do you really want to open the can of worms right now?

fuck it.

“i don’t know. people who love each other?”

he snorts then rolls his eyes when he realizes you’re back in serious mode.

“here we go again. we’ve been through this plenty of times—“

“do you even like me?”

“yes, of course.” he answers quickly.

“do you love me?”

he’s silent.

“then what are we doing, dohwan?” the real question was … what were you doing? it’s hitting year three of this situationship and nothing more has progressed.

“hey, hey … i thought you enjoyed spending time with each other … we agreed that it was just me and you,” he comes close to you again, but you hold a hand out to keep some distance.

“i need to get back to work. can you give me some space?” you mumble, “thanks for the food.”

—

the fallout between you and dohwan was anything but amicable.

you both boiled it all down to two things: you want more. he wants things to remain the same.

you requested for space and a break in the meantime while you figure things out. during that time, you felt yourself distancing from jungkook too. he tried to greet you like normally after dohwan’s confrontation, yet every time you see him, you make a beeline into your apartment.

guess old habits die hard.

you took this time to focus on you. you spoke to a therapist, got in contact with some girlfriends, visited your family, and busied yourself with work. self improvement, if one could call it. your therapist recommended to decentralize men in your life for a while so that you can focus on yourself. which meant no dohwan.

… and no jungkook.

you’ve been keeping nayeon posted on your life and she calls you out for being inconsiderate to jungkook. funny, because she was on your side when he was being rude to you and immediately ghosted him after the movie date (you still haven’t told jungkook you’ve been in contact with nayeon because things have gotten a little crazy). you promised to her you’ll talk to him soon though. he was just unfortunately caught in the crossfire of your messy relationship.

honestly? you missed your neighbor — your friend. but you needed to get your head sorted out and you’d be terrible company either way.

jungkook didn’t deserve that.

the break between you and dohwan meant that you don’t talk to each other till you figured things out.

breaks meant for a reset.

he kept texting you and telling you how much he missed you.

you had to keep reminding him of the boundaries.

he eventually obliged.

thinking you were finally ready to talk weeks later, you went over to his place after work, only to find him in shock, hair disheveled, red scratch marks all over his chest and shoulders.

“oh, um, i—“ you panic, feel your heart drop to your stomach when the realization settles in after you hear another voice call out his name from behind.

dohwan took that break and fell into bed with another woman.

“w-wait, let me explain,” he follows you out his door and nearly topples over you when you turned abruptly to face him.

you feel betrayed — so much for ‘me and you.’ the anger bubbling in your chest has a way of migrating through your body. you tremble, tears threaten to fall from your eyes, and your teeth dig hard on your bottom lip … you can taste metallic.

“we’re on a break,” he says as if you weren’t aware of the terms you originally initiated.

“okay? so that means you go and fuck someone else?” your voice is shaky but you push on, “you cheated.”

“no! i mean, fuck, what did you expect me to do? we stopped talking and it was fucking lonely … i— you can’t put all the blame on me,” he stammers.

so, it was your fault?

“i didn’t make you sleep with someone else. a-all—,” you choke on a sob, “all i asked was for some space and time. you couldn’t even give me that.”

the thing is, dohwan hasn’t given you anything beyond what he was willing to get from you. he liked your company, thought you were a sweet and funny girl, and god were you good in bed. he didn’t feel ready to settle down in a relationship … felt that being with someone officially took the spark out, but he also wasn’t willing to let you go.

so he held out for as long as he could. as a result, you did too in hopes that he could find it in himself to change his feelings for you.

love is patient, love is kind.

you’ve been patient, you’ve been kind. if this is love, why does it break you down?

maybe this love wasn’t for you; but rather, he isn’t for you no matter how long you wait and the number of pennies you’ve thrown into the wishing well.

“goodbye, dohwan.”

—

jungkook hates overly loud sex.

it’s the reason why he takes the extra precaution to put socks on his bed frames to muffle any potential noises. if his partner was a huge moaner, he’d do what any sensible person would … stuff his fingers into their mouth. what? the girl usually doesn’t mind and it minimizes the noises. plus, it was hot.

win-win.

sex didn’t have to be over the top to show that you’re passionate. jungkook knows that very well.

it’s also why he originally lost a lot of respect for you when he overheard you and dohwan having sex that one time. well, mainly dohwan.

fuckin’ gorilla.

jungkook has been worried for you ever since that awkward glitter situation. he wanted to apologize and even talk to dohwan if it’d make things less stressful on your end.

you’ve ghosted him for weeks. no more walks, small talk, snack trades, or trips to the mailroom.

he has a feeling it has something to do with dohwan.

just like how he knows the sobs emitting through his walls tonight has something to do with him.

jungkook hates overly loud sex, but more than that, he hates the sounds of your cries.

—

‘cheer up, 307. you deserve some sweetness in your day. ps. i’m gonna make you run if you keep missing our walks. also? stop avoiding me, it’s annoying - jk’

you smile and sip the banana milk jungkook left outside your door.

he always had a way with cheering you up despite being a headache for some time in your life. your therapist recommended to decentralize men from your life for a while … sure, jungkook fits in that category, but he’s also your friend.

you slowly let him back in.

he’s been good to you. though, you can’t say the same for yourself. you’ve been a shitty neighbor and a shitty friend.

yet jungkook shrugs it off and treats you normally.

you’ve been mending a broken heart and jungkook has been a great company meanwhile.

“you really need to work on your conflict avoidance, 307.” jungkook says one evening. he’s sprawled out on your couch with a bag of chips in his hands. it’s movie night — a tradition he forced upon you because you’ve apparently never watched the movie trolls.

you peel your eyes from the screen and tilt your head, “what do you mean?”

“any time something gets tough, you run away. gotta stop that, say what’s on your mind and work it out.”

“hm.”

“what?” he presses.

“nothing.”

“see? you’re doing it again. just say what you wanna say,” jungkook rolls his eyes.

“fine,” you chew on your bottom lip, “i hate this movie.”

jungkook had picked trolls 2 and it was so much more awful in comparison to the first one you were forced to watch last weekend.

“fuckin knew it. you’ve been spacing out all night,” he laughs, “see, doesn’t it feel good to be honest bout your feelings?” he reaches for your remote to switch to another movie. you watch him. really take him in and almost want to laugh at how horrible your first couple of months was with him and now he’s in your apartment watching awful movies with you to nurse your brokenheart.

you really had read jungkook wrong. he wasn’t just some conventionally attractive man that used his pretty privilege to get his way. he was genuinely a good person.

which makes you think … why the fuck is he hanging around someone like you on a friday night? he could be hanging out with some friends or going on a blind date with a pretty girl. better yet, why isn’t he in a relationship with someone?

was he just like you?

his voice brings you out of your thoughts, “alright, spill it 307. you look like you have something else to say.”

you sigh.

“how are you still single? just … i know you’re always dating different people. it can’t be that bad for you right? i mean, if you’re struggling … i feel kind of hopeless for myself.”

jungkook looks at you, dimples on display as he contemplates on what he wants to say next. the thing about jungkook is that he looks like he belongs in your circle — fits perfectly, actually. has a way of making you feel safe and comfortable about asking hard questions. he may tease you, but he’ll never judge you.

he ruffles your hair.

“just haven’t found the right one. it takes time and i’m in no rush. you shouldn’t either.” you feel yourself soften from his remarks until, “or else you’ll end up with a gorilla again.”

—

jungkook is treading in dangerous territories.

aside from trying to potty train his new doberman puppy, bam, he’s faced with another issue.

he may have developed a small crush on his neighbor. he can’t pinpoint exactly when he started getting that fuzzy warm feeling around you. it was a telltale sign when he’d wake up and sleep to the thought of you.

you can’t really blame all of this on him though. you’ve been a little more open about hanging out with him since your breakup with dohwan. jungkook has gotten used to your presence as a result. some people would see it as using jungkook as a rebound, but he feels anything but that.

you’re a breath of fresh air to hang around after a long day of work. which is funny cause there was a period of time he considered hexing you. now? he longs to see you and fill in gaps of his day with you. when he doesn’t see you, he thinks of you.

that just might be his demise.

even bam has taken a liking to you and often refuses to let you go back home when you are over.

like dog, like owner.

“aw bammie,” you kneel down, “i’ll see you tomorrow.”

bam whines and follows you to the door.

“you can stay if you like, the guys won’t mind.” jungkook reasons. he’s having a small get together with some of his friends and extended the invite to you. you declined, telling him you don’t want to intrude and he should spend some quality time with them.

“just say that you want to be with me 24/7 and go,” you joke. jungkook won’t admit to you he does.

“nah, just need someone to watch bam while i have some bro time.” he teases back.

“hire a dog nanny then,” your hands automatically reaches down to scratch behind bam’s ear. there’s no need to hire one cause you’d willingly take care of bam for free. it’s all fun and jokes, jungkook knows this. he laughs and holds bam back from following you out the door.

“be on your best behavior tonight for your daddy, ‘kay?” you talk to bam like you’re his mom and jungkook’s stomach does flips at the mention of ‘daddy’ leaving your lips, “if it gets too much, you can sleep over at my place.”

bam has a sleeping mat at your place too. you’ve gotten it for him when jungkook comes over to watch movies — insisted that the pup should have a comfortable space in your home.

jungkook feels like he’s sharing custody with you. everything feels more domestic and it’s fucking with jungkook’s head and heart. which is why he asked you to dog sit bam while he goes on a date next weekend with some client’s friend he met at the tattoo parlor. thinks this date would be a good reset from you.

you wave goodbye to him, a playful grin adorning your lips, “have fun tonight, 305. if it gets too much, you can also come to my place too.”

he hates when you tease like this. makes him feel like he holds a space in your life more than he already should. knows you’re joking, but can tell there’s some truth in your statement. you’re attached to him just as much as he is to you.

“also, try not to be too loud tonight.”

“no promises,” he laughs, “hobi-hyung will be over.”

you giggle, you’ve met hoseok in the passing and also teased him too for causing a ruckus at the housewarming party. all his friends like you — it’s no surprise jungkook would eventually too.

so yeah, he’s treading in dangerous territories.

—

you’ve really been focused on yourself and your friendships. on your hardest days where you yearn for intimacy, you force yourself to be okay with the idea and concept of being alone. there’s a lot of bad days, but they get better.

it’s not always about being in isolation though.

it’s about not being dependent on someone to fill a void.

with dohwan, you realized you fell in the pattern of needing to be around him and when he wasn’t there, the world crumbled beneath your feet. over time, you realized he wasn’t good for you.

wrong person, wrong time.

because the right person will always make you feel safe and seen.

jungkook was right. it’ll take time to find that person — there’s no rush.

yet, you have this disquieting feeling when you see him rustling through his home to get ready for his date tonight. what do you do when you feel like the right person might be slipping away under your nose?

right person, wrong time, you suppose.

bam, his not so small puppy, lays his head on your lap and would occasionally lift it when jungkook walks close. if bam is doting with you, he’s completely devoted to jungkook.

doesn’t realize that his dad is gonna leave you both until he puts on his shoes at the door.

“ah-ah, bammie, stay,” you hold him and he whimpers for jungkook.

“well? how do i look?” jungkook does a quick 360 and you wanna poke fun at him, but you can tell he’s on edge for whatever reason. he has no reason to be. he’s charming, handsome, and knows exactly what to say or do to make someone’s heart skip a beat as he’s done so to you numerous times — you’d never admit it.

he’s your neighbor and most importantly, your friend. it’s a sacred relationship and boundary you’re hesitant to break. so you swallow down whatever you’re feeling and smile reassuringly to him, “you look great, jungkook.”

he beams and extends his hands out for a high-five, “thanks, wish me luck.”

your hands make contact with his and it feels electrifying.

“no luck needed, mr. 305 worldwide.” he absolutely hates the new nickname you’ve given him, doesn’t argue back though, simply scoffs and looks at the time on his phone.

“now go before you’re late and bam bolts out the door for you.” you shoo him out his own apartment.

he reaches down to pat bam on his head and give him some tender smooches.

“call me if there’s an emergency or if you’re bored.” he tells you with his hands shoved in his pockets and some of his bangs fall onto his forehead. there’s something so boyish about his mannerisms … you swallow thickly when you feel the knots tighten in your stomach. a part of you wonders if you tell him to bail on the date, would he? you’re not cruel enough to do that to him and his date. they could be soulmates for all you know.

“and what? you’ll come entertain me?” your eyes squint, “go enjoy your date, 305. we’ll be here.”

before you know it, he’s out the door and you’re left wondering what if.

—

jungkook didn’t realize how much of a disaster the date was going until his date seated across from him rolls her eyes.

“i’m sorry … am i boring you with my story?” he was telling her how he had to help you break into your own apartment because you forgot to bring your keys in the middle of the night.

“it just seems like you’re wasting both our times.” she says and places her drink down. her red manicured fingers circle the rim of her cup.

he’s confused. jungkook has been doing his best to keep the date afloat by talking and asking questions. he thought it’s been going well, minus the couple of times he checked his phone to see if he got any emergency texts from you about bam.

“i mean, why are you here when you clearly like someone else?”

“i don’t get—wait, what?”

“your neighbor 007 or whatever.” she says. it’s the wrong number and she knows it, but wants to see if jungkook reacts, “you’ve been talking about her all night.”

has he? he was just making light conversation … you’re a part of his life so slipping your name here and there feels natural.

“look, you seem like a nice guy. you’re obviously good looking too. if you’re not looking for anything serious, we can go back to my apartment right now for some fun. but long term? it feels like you have someone waiting at home for you.”

and the mood goes sour. jungkook is used to this. used to his dates objectifying him as a quick and good fuck — granted, he’s played this to his advantage when he was younger. now? it feels meaningless. he isn’t upset at that.

it’s the utter realization that he does have someone special to him and you’ve been right under his nose all this time. he’s always telling you to be honest with your feelings, yet he can’t even bring himself to uphold that advice for whatever reason.

jungkook apologizes to his date again, pays for the tab, and rushes home.

—

home can be a place, but for jungkook, it’s seeing you on his couch and greeting him with a sleepy smile.

bam jumps off your lap to nudge jungkook’s leg for attention.

“has he been good?” jungkook asks while scratching bam’s head, though he stops momentarily at the sight of you stretching and your shirt lifts a little to reveal the curves of your hips.

“mhm, an angel. how was the date?”

he contemplates on lying, but knows better. needs to practice what he preaches.

“bad.”

“oh? wanna talk about it?”

“uh, i kinda fucked it up,” jungkook toes off his shoes and avoids your eye contact.

“classic, first impressions have never been your strongest suit.” you put on your jacket and jungkook panics at the thought of you leaving early. he exhales a breath he’s been holding when you plop back down on his couch where he soon joins you.

“i’m not always that bad.” he mumbles.

“i know, i’m just teasing you.” you reach over to pinch his cheek.

when he doesn’t reply, it gets you a little worried. you didn’t mean to hurt his feelings.

“sorry—“

“i kept bringing you up during the date.” he cuts you off.

“oof, no girl wants to hear about another girl …” technically, you’re hoping jungkook doesn’t talk about this one … let alone his previous dates or exes.

“i know,” he murmurs, leans his head back, and sighs, “she … called me out on it.”

“good, as she should.”

jungkook hesitates with his next words, but pushes forward, “said it’s cause i liked you.”

you pause. you could hear a pin drop in the room, minus bam’s paws making contact with the hardwood floor.

“oh … um,” you’re not dumb, you understand what he’s implying. you just don’t know how you’re going to run away from this conversation.

“i know you’re already planning your escape, 307,” he chuckles. his laugh sounds a little melancholy and an instant flood of guilt rushes through you.

“what! no! i-i just don’t know what to say,” you nibble on your lips. you’re fucking scared for what’s to come.

“just hear me out, okay?”

you nod, listen to him clear his throat and exhale a shaky breath.

“i’ve really enjoyed spending time with you. maybe it’s cause i’m a creature of habit or whatever … well no, i don’t think it’s that. i like being around you and i’m thankful you’re in my life.” he looks and smiles at you fondly, as if he is preparing himself for the biggest rejection, “i like you … a lot. you don’t have to accept my feelings nor do anything with it. these feelings are mine and i just wanted to be honest with you. at the end of the day, i’d still like to remain friends as long as you’ll allow me.”

you want to fucking cry. he’s always been better at words and expressing himself. you see it in how he treats his friends, his dog, his profession and art … most importantly, you. you also want to be honest with him, but it already seems like he’s accepting the fate of nothing more.

you owe him the truth at least.

“jungkook … i—“ you begin, “i like you a lot too.”

jungkook lets out an exasperating grunt — he thinks you’re pitying him.

“please don’t feel the need to sugarcoat, 307. i just wanted to be—“

you press your lips to his. the kiss was too quick for anyone to process anything. you’ll remember though. you’ll remember his strawberry flavored chapstick, the cold lip piercing barrels, and the way he leans in slightly to chase after your lips when you pull away too soon. jungkook’s eyes widen at the realization that you just kissed him. all too short and he doesn’t think he can stop thinking about you after this anymore even if he tried.

“your feelings are yours,” you hold his hand, “but these are mine too.”

he whispers your name lowly and you shake your head.

“i’m no good with words,” you confess, “i just know that i like you too. but … i’m also a fucking mess, jungkook.”

“huh? no, you’re—“

“yeah, i am. i just got out of something long term … it wouldn’t be good for me to jump into another relationship. i don’t think it’s fair for you to deal with all my baggage when i haven’t sorted myself out.”

he nods, a little dejected but he understands what you mean.

right person, wrong time.

“okay,” he finally says, “nothing will change. friends?”

“friends,” you agree.

it’s a promise out of respect for you. will you regret this? possibly. though, everything feels normal when he walks you to your door later and wishes you a goodnight.

“don’t be fucking weird after tonight. if you avoid me, i’m making you run 10 laps every friday, 307.”

“rude,” you roll your eyes, “i should be saying that to you. don’t be fucking weird or else you’re getting another glitter bomb in the mail.”

“that shit was the worst to get off.”

“funny as hell though.”

“yeah, for you.”

everything feels so natural and safe with jungkook. how he looks at you, laughs at your jokes, eyes twinkle when you do the same for him. you don’t need the night sky when you got galaxies staring back at you.

—

“with all due respect, you’re being stupid.” nayeon says through the speaker.

“how? we both agreed that staying friends would be the best.” you reply a little louder over your sink. your kitchen was overdue for a cleaning and the weekends were the perfect time to catch up on chores.

you’re on the phone with nayeon and it’s a good distraction while you busy yourself with other things at the same time. though, you’re sort of regretting the call now with nayeon berating you for your decision to remain friends with jungkook a month ago.

“people can still date and work on themselves. it’s not a linear thing.”

“yeah, but—“

“you’re just scared. i know you.”

“nayeon …”

“jungkook and dohwan aren’t the same. anyone can get hurt in a relationship, but you shouldn’t deny yourself of something out of fear.”

“yes, but … i don’t think i’d be able to face jungkook if something bad does happen.” you’re serious. running away is your strong suit and you’d move out immediately if shit hits the fan.

“so you’d have no regrets staying like this?”

you don’t reply and that was an answer in itself.

“why are you so hellbent on me and jungkook? i thought you hated him …” it’s sort of funny to be talking to nayeon of all people about jungkook. hell, it’s thanks to jungkook’s mess up on their first tinder date that helped you land your friendship with nayeon.

everything happens for a reason.

“i only hated him cause you did. that’s what friends do, silly. also, if you’re feeling awkward because he and i dated … don’t. there wasn’t anything more. anyways, stop avoiding. you always do this.” she’s right. you’re the queen of avoiding hard conversations.

“i don’t want to lose a friend, nayeon.”

“you won’t. but you’ll lose your chance at experiencing something beautiful, sweetie,” she says, “you owe it to yourself. but hey, i gotta go to my pilates class. i’ll text you later, okay? i love you!”

“okay, love you too. i’m sorry for being difficult. don’t pull a muscle in class!”

“if i do, will you give me a massage?” she laughs, “and no, you’re never difficult. just you being you.”

the call ends and you’re left alone once again with your thoughts. things haven’t really changed between you and jungkook. he’s still his chipper self. you just yearn for more time with him these days. every subtle touch … whether it be his hand on your lower back guiding you upstairs, his fingers brushing yours during the walks, or when he massages your feet upon request sends you into a place where you feel yourself succumbing to your deepest desires.

you want more.

you can tell jungkook does too. he’s unashamed in his affections towards you but he’ll never pressure you or cross that boundary you’ve set.

you realize it hurts to deny yourself of wanting someone who wants you just as equally.

—

you’re at jungkook’s place again one evening. bam is all tuckered out from his walk and jungkook is fixing a bowl of popcorn to snack on while you search through netflix for something to watch.

it’s your pick tonight and you wanted to watch a crime documentary. ghost and thrillers don’t interest you, but crimes? yeah, full body chills because they’re real.

you turn to see jungkook in a big white t-shirt with grey sweats — he looks so comfortable. he’s seasoning the popcorn and catches you staring at him. he shakes his head and smiles back down bashfully at his bowl.

he looks like home … no, he feels like home.

fuck.

you really are torturing yourself.

when jungkook settles onto the couch and the documentary starts, you scoot closer to him. you don’t know if you’re making a fool of yourself, but jungkook pays no mind. his arm circle around you effortlessly and you nestle your cheek into his chest.

so warm — he smells so nice. jungkook sports on a lax expression, yet you can feel and hear the rapid thumps of his heart.

“you sure friends cuddle when they watch shit together?” he mumbles, eyes trained on the television.

“no,” you look up at him, “do you not want to?” you start to move away, but jungkook holds you in place.

he feels your smile through his shirt. yeah, you’re torturing him and he’s enjoying it.

as the documentary plays, jungkook gets immersed in the story. he looks a little silly with his big eyes and mouth slightly ajar as he soaks in all the crime details and backstory. his hand involuntarily moves to massage your scalp and you feel yourself lulled to sleep under his touch.

after a while, he calls your name and gently shakes you awake.

“hey sleepyhead. had a good nap?” he muses.

“mhm, sorry … was so tired from work. did i miss a lot?” you look at the dark television screen and feel guilty.

“just the entire documentary,” he teases, “it’s alright, you wouldn’t be traumatized like me now. i know i’m going to be having nightmares.”

“‘m sorry,” you snuggle closer to him and his breath hitches, “anything i can do to help?”

“hmm …” he holds his thinking pose, “i don’t know, maybe a kiss?”

“just kidding, 307. it’s late, so let’s get you hom—”

“yeah? think a kiss will make you feel better?” you press on.

you knew he was joking, but there’s a surge of confidence coursing in you when you push up on him and he swallows hard. he says your name in warning but he makes no effort to move or push you away. he wants this badly too. been thinking about you and your lips since you last kissed him — never stopped.

“don’t do something you’ll regret.” his hand cradles your cheek.

“i’m not,” your nose brush against his, “i wanna kiss you. please, will you let me?” you ask with pleading eyes and jungkook lets out a shuddering breath and nods.

you look down at his parted lips and back at his hooded eyes. you’re not sure who moved first — it doesn’t matter.

when your lips meet, it’s like heaven and hell collided and made earth — waves crashing onto land, blue horizons, and the smell of pinewood after rain. you don’t think you can let go of this feeling any time soon and when you finally do give into your longings, life feels a little more salvageable … freeing.

jungkook slots his lips between yours, pulling you up to straddle his lap. he moans when your hands tangle in his hair and pulls you in closer if that was even possible.

you lick into his parting mouth when he pants, indulge in the way he sounds as he’s kissing you back. the kiss is hard and passionate — so much more different than the first one you had. there’s a sense of urgency here … like there’s a time constraint or limitation to your affections. you wish you could reassure him; though the best you can do at this moment is to drink him in as much as he allows you to. his hands roam all over your body and you shiver in pleasure when one of his hand travels to the front of your throat possessively. there’s no pressure in his hold, but it’s telling you that you belong here with him.

when you finally do pull away, you plant dainty kisses on the corner of his lips and jaw. he giggles at the tickling feeling and brings your face back to his to give you a much gentler kiss. though you are no longer kissing, your foreheads stay connected in place.

“there, much better, right?” you say breathlessly.

“mhm,” he replies, “should’ve used the trauma card earlier if i knew i’d be getting free kisses.”

your brain is going a mile a second, but you’re sure of this.

“you don’t need to,” you say a little uncertain. jungkook straightens himself in his seated position when he realizes you’re about to say something serious.

“you can kiss me whenever you want … if you want! i know i said we should stay friends, but i think i like you too much to just stay that way. i want to see where things go and i’m fucking scared. i mean, fuck, am i making any sense? please say something,” you’re rambling and jungkook can only smile as you unravel through your confession.

of course he wants more with you.

“just say you want me and go, 307.” he laughs when you pull away cutely. he has no intentions of letting you go and you had no intentions of leaving. it’s too comfortable in his embrace.

“we’ll take things slow, okay?” he kisses your nose in reassurance.

“okay.”

—

fast forward three months, you and jungkook have been dating each other — slow and steady as promised. no official title (yet) but you know he’s exclusively seeing you. you’re enjoying his company and there’s no rush. when there’s something special and secure, it’s all smooth sailing and calm tides. you never have to guess with him.

he feels the same with you.

this marks the 13th weekend date with you and he’s going to do it. jungkook is going to ask you to be his girlfriend. he’s fucking nervous … has a whole date planned: dinner, movies, then back to his place where he’ll officially ask you.

part of him wants to wait for the next weekend because the number 13 was bad luck, but he’s felt nothing but luck with you. luck in the chances of meeting you in this apartment complex, luck in your friendship, and now luck with the prospect of love.

so when your door swings open to reveal you in a short black satin dress, hair done prettily, and your skin dewey and sparkly from your makeup, he knew was going to make 13 lucky no matter what.

“you look beautiful,” jungkook compliments and holds out his hand to walk you down the stairs.

“you don’t look half bad too,” you taunt, taking his warm hand. there’s no malice cause jungkook knows how you feel about him. notices how your eyes rake over his form, has caught you checking him out plenty of times before, felt the way your lips moved on his skin to praise how hot he looked one evening despite him coming back looking like a sweaty hog that’s been run over by a train.

if you’re curious … aside from making out and heavy petting paired with some dry humping sessions here and there, no, they haven’t had sex. probably for the better, it’s already hard enough to separate from each other after every hangout.

slow and steady. you are both fine with that.

“sooo, you gonna tell me where we’re going or is this where you murder me?” you check your lip gloss in the rear view mirror. jungkook’s right hand naturally find its way to your thighs while he drives.

“you’ll find out soon,” he gives you a little squeeze and it sends a little tingle to your core.

—

it’s going terribly.

traffic was absolutely ass for no reason, so they get to their first destination 45 minutes later than anticipated. the restaurant he had reservations for let him know that the kitchen caught on fire the moment he parked in the lot.

okay, fine. to the movies it is.

except, the movie stopped halfway through due to some technical difficulties. he was going to lose his mind, but you were a good sport through it all. jungkook still had one final trick up his sleeve for you.

when you both finally get back to his place with bags of takeout, jungkook lets out a wail of frustration.

“bam, no!”

all the balloons he blew up have been popped. you look past his shoulders to see a torn up sign with the words: wil u e my fren?

bam prances to you and jungkook with his wagging tail, unaware of jungkook’s inner anguish and turmoil. jungkook runs his hands over his face and freezes in place.

“aw baby,” you try comforting jungkook, “it was an accident. bam didn’t know.”

“i know, i just … fuck, gimme a minute.” jungkook stalks over to his bedroom and closes the door. you place the bags of food on the dining table and crouch down to pet bam.

“you really upset your dad, bammie. he worked really hard on this,” you know bam doesn’t understand a single word you’re saying, but you’re disappointed for jungkook too. jungkook really put in the effort and you’re touched by it all. he really wants you and you want nothing more than to be his.

you feed bam his dinner and set the takeout in the fridge, unsure of when you and jungkook will be ready to eat.

hesitantly, you knock on jungkook’s door. know you don’t need his permission to come in — you’ve slept over plenty of times, but still do it out of courtesy.

“can i come in, kook?”

a moment of silence ensues before you hear a little, “… yeah.”

jungkook was on his bed, feet still on the floor with his arms sprawled out. poor boy.

you climb onto bed next to him and lay your head on his shoulder.

he’s visibly upset — not at you of course. he just wanted to make this special.

“that was fucking cute. no one has ever done that for me before.” you say. the best you got from dohwan were a bouquet of roses sent to your workplace. jungkook’s efforts superseded your expectations.

“which part? no dinner, no movies, or the shit show of a sign?”

“all of it.”

“pff, don’t lie.” he sulks.

you throw your leg over his torso to straddle his waist.

“i’m not! you’re so fucking sweet,” you move down to kiss his cheek when he doesn’t look up at you.

“come on, don’t you want my answer?” you place his hands on your hips, wanting him to touch you somewhere.

he cocks his brow at you, a little smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“fine fine, i’ll be your ‘fren’ if that’s what you want.”

he covers his face in embarrassment, “ugh, that shit was so humiliating. bam isn’t getting any treats for the next three days.”

“hey! don’t punish my baby. it was an honest mistake.” you reassure him, “plus, i gave him an earful.” yeah, and his dinner right after. it’s no wonder bam likes you a lot more these days.

“okay, okay … i’m still sorry about today. nothing went accordingly.” jungkook sighs and rubs soothing circles on your hips with his thumbs.

“you’re not allowed to punish yourself either,” you say a matter of fact, “did you mean it though?” you look at him through your lashes.

“hm?”

“want me as your girlfriend?” when you finally say those words, it sets off a bundle of butterflies in your stomach.

jungkook quickly sits up, holding you securely so you don’t topple over, “of course, i do. just wanted to make it special for you.”

you felt fucking special.

so fucking special in how you said yes, saw how he beamed at your answer, kisses you silly, tongue running down your neck, the little bites on your collarbone — you’re on cloud 9.

he involuntarily drags your hips over his clothed length and you whimper upon contact.

“you hungry, baby? we didn’t have dinner yet,” jungkook asks innocently through his heavy breaths, but you’re too busy trying to unbutton his dress shirt. how could he possibly think about food at a time like this? then again, you have to remember he’s the biggest foodie known to earth. he’s caring of your wellbeing so of course he’d worry if you’re hungry.

he’s also your boyfriend now.

you shake your head. you don’t just want him — you need him.

you slide off of him and are on your knees in between his legs. he looks at you through his heavy lids when you clock your head to the side, waiting for the green light to take off his pants.

“you’ve been so good to me, planning this date … lemme show you how thankful i am.”

jungkook loves being praised and rewarded. he especially loves it even more coming from you. he lets out a moan when you run your hand down his clothed bulge. yes, jungkook has had sex before — honestly, don’t ask him about his body count … he’s not sure either. what he’s sure is that he loses all senses when you touch him — like a virgin touched for the very first time.

his pants are down and kicked off to the side, shirt unbuttoned haphazardly, and head thrown back when you settle between his legs to give his hard length a squeeze.

he’s so fucking big in your hand and your mouth nearly waters at the sight of his precum leaking from the slit of his cock. fuck, you don’t know how he’s going to fit in your mouth, but it doesn’t matter. you’re going to make him come undone one way or another.

“baby, i’m literally going to nut if you keep squeezing me like that.”

you laugh, “how long are you going to last inside me then?”

“fuck, you can’t say shit like that.”

“why not?” you press a small kiss on his hip bone and pump his cock with your hand. his eyes closes and mouth drops open at the change of movement.

“gonna nut even faster,” he chuckles.

jungkook hisses when you lick a long stripe underneath his shaft without warning. one of his hand reaches behind your head for support while the other one grips his bedsheets.

“oh god,” he lets out a small moan when you wrap your lips around the head of his cock and begin to bob your head at a pace that has him seeing stars.

his cock was lathered with your spit and his precum. the sounds you made while you sucked him off were nearly pornographic. his eyes almost rolled to the back of his head when his cock hits the back of your throat.

“shit, oh f-fuck,” his fingers are caught in your hair and your moans vibrate against him when he gently pushes your head down while he fucks up into your mouth.

if you keep going like this, he wasn’t going to last long and he really wants to … can’t bring himself to cum in your mouth just yet. he really wasn’t kidding when he said he was going to nut quick, so he pulls you away when he nearly cums. you breathe heavily through your swollen lips. jungkook runs his thumb on your cheeks where some mascara has smeared as a result of your doing.

you’re still so fucking perfect.

he lifts you from your kneeled position back onto his lap and kisses you slow and tenderly. jungkook whines into your mouth as he tastes himself on your tongue. your dress has ridden up on your waist, the the thin straps are loose and off your shoulders.

“i somehow fucked up the entire night and you still decided to give me the best head? must really like me or something,” jungkook looks at you endearingly and takes notice of how you’re rutting yourself onto his length.

“you know i do. my boyfriend deserves the best.” jungkook’s heart soars at hearing the word boyfriend leave your lips.

yes, he’s yours.

you shake in pleasure as you roll your hips deliciously slow on him. you’re practically soaked through your thin panties.

“did you get this wet just by sucking me off, baby?”

you nod and trail kisses on his cheeks and jaw, “all for you, kook. you always make me this wet.”

he takes so much pride in how he’s able to get you all worked up like this.

jungkook wasn’t expecting to have sex with you tonight, but it’s like you said … it’s special. the rest of your clothing join his in a pile on the ground. he rolls you onto your back and drinks in your naked form. you shy away from his stares and kiss up at him.

your hand reach between you both while he continues to kiss you and you position his still-hard cock in between your folds for that additional friction. the wet clicks mixes in with both your pantings and synchronized moans. every time the head of his cock slides and catches onto your swollen clit, you shudder and arch your back in pleasure.

“want you to fuck me,” you kiss his pouty lips and down his neck, “please?”

jungkook leans back a little, sits on the heels of his feet, and pushes your thighs close to your chest. the angle lets him move and slide your hips up and down his length even more. you gasp and call out his name in wanton.

he drops your legs down and closes the distance between you both again. his bare chest brushes against yours and he lines his cock at your entrance.

“you’re so perfect,” his breath fans over your face, “so lucky to have you.” jungkook swoops his arms under you in a tight embrace. you look at him through your glassy eyes and wrap your arms around his neck.

your heart swells at his words.

there’s little to no resistance when jungkook finally enters you.

it’s a mixture of sweet, nasty, loving, and primal desire how jungkook fucks you into his sheets. he hates loud sex, but he wants to hear all of you. the way you mewl, whimper, cry, and breathe — all of it.

and when you wrap your legs around him and coax him into cumming inside you while your fingers trace the planes of his back, he knows he’s done for.

you giggle, nudge your forehead on his, hold his hand, and kiss all over his face. the afterglow on you both is stunning.

“you’re right, you didn’t last long at all.” you hum. jungkook raises one of his eyebrows and smiles mischievously. it’s a fucking lie since jungkook knows he made you cum at least twice in the span of fucking you, but who would you be if you didn’t try challenging him a little?

he doesn’t have to say anything before slipping down your body and burying his face in between your legs. he licks up your slit tentatively, watches your brows furrow and mouth part, and moans into your heat when your hand travels to his head to push him down as he did to you.

“don’t worry, i’m not going anywhere,” jungkook means it both literally and figuratively. doesn’t understand how anyone could part from you. it’s their loss.

he continues lapping up your mixed essence, nipping at your inner thighs on occasion when your hips jerk away from the pleasure.

“kook, mmph- yes! just like that,” you encourage when he wraps his lips around your clit. he sucks, soothes, and makes out with your messy cunt. he wanted to draw out the night longer, toy and dangle your pleasure in front of you as a punishment for your teasing. knows he’s the reason you’re this wet, can’t bring himself to edge you on a special night like this — maybe another time when he’s feeling more mean. he has all the time in the world with you; there’s no rush.

tonight is all about you, his girlfriend — his.

“so close, baby,” you look down, hips stuttering under his hold as he doesn’t let up with his ministrations on your clit. he trails his fingers at your entrance, coating them with your juices before entering you slowly.

“yeah? won’t you give me another one? come on, i know you can do it,” he says between bated breaths. you shake and arch your back, mouth parts open but no sound comes out as you let the waves of pleasure ride over. the squelching sounds increase as his fingers fuck into you faster.

“i-i’m fucking cumming,” you cry out and jungkook nods in acknowledgement, moaning with you to draw out your orgasm. when you come for the third time that night, he wants to paint the image in his memory and revisit it on a rainy day. no promises that he won’t sport a hard on every time. the sight of you quivering, hands squeezing your chest and rolling your nipples between your fingers to prolong the pleasure, has his head spinning. jungkook trails kisses down your pussy, takes his fingers out and licks them clean before spreading you wider to clean you up with his tongue. he only part ways with your cunt when you whine for him.

he comes back up your body slowly, presses his lips on your tummy and giggles when you squirm from the sensation. however, when he is finally face to face with you again, jungkook has on this determined look.

he can’t seem to get enough of you and your body. addicted, he is.

“you’re not done with me, aren’t you?” you give him that pretty post-orgasmic smile.

never, he thinks.

jungkook was about to reply until the rumbles of your stomach cuts through the silence. it should be embarrassing but you feel close enough to jungkook that you both laugh at how unserious the situation is.

“come on baby, let’s go eat our dinner.” he pulls you up and puts you in one of his oversized t-shirts.

you still believe your ideal neighbor should be mindful, quiet, and kind. jungkook was certainly not mindful, quiet, or kind with how he entered into your life.

though, he wasn’t just someone who’d be your neighbor by the law of attraction and the cosmic pull of the universe.

love is patient, love is kind.

you know you’ve found your home — you just never expected it to be right next door.

fin.

—

a/n: tadaaaaaa. what’d you think? 😜

[wainawtmai]

tags: fluff, 18+, blowjobs, semi-public sex, lots of lipstick, satoru wears elf lip shimmer don't take it up with me take it up with gege

✧˖*° thinking about going to sephora with satoru...

“This one’s cute on you, ‘toru.” You hum, spreading the elf shimmer across his pink lips. They pull up in an endearing smirk, and you couldn’t help smiling yourself, it was unfair how pretty he was.

“Really? What shade is it?” He lifted your hand to read the shade on the bottle, the pale skin of the back of his hand covered in multicolored lipstick and eyeshadow swatches. 

You squish his cheeks together, his glossed lips pursing as you cock your head, “I like this one, ‘think I’ll get it too.” 

“Yeah?” Satoru’s arms circle your waist as he pulls you in closer, pressing his lips to yours in a messy and unecessary kiss. You’re sure people are staring. Youre breathless when he pulls away, smiling down at you innocently, “looks good on you.” 

You glance at a nearby mirror, “god, you’re such a perv.” You swipe at the residue across your upper lip and press your lips together, “but you’re right, should we match babe?” 

Satoru nuzzles his face into your neck as he smirks at you in the mirror, “I dunno, I think it kinda looks better on me.” 

“Does it?” 

“Mhm, I mean if I walk out of the store like this there’ll be a mob.” He presses a kiss to your neck, arms still circled around your hips, “you already have a hard enough time with me as is, baby, I wouldn’t want to give you any more trouble.” He gives you a ridiculous pout in the mirror and you flick him in the forehead, pulling yourself from his grasp and sauntering to another isle. 

You’re scrutinizing a wine colored Dior lipstick when Satoru totters after you, holding your already full basket of makeup. “That’ll look pretty on you.” He muses, eyeing a YSL burgundy colored lipstick before tossing it in the cart, “Ooh, and that one.” He grasps another violet lipstick beside it, “this one too.”

“Really? B-But I’m scared you’ll outshine me.” You say with faux sadness and Satoru chuckles. 

“i know, baby, not everyone can look this good.” He lilts arrogantly and you pinch his cheek, laughing as he winces. 

You glance back down at the red lipstick in your hand, scrutinizing the label, “Hm, says this is transfer and water proof. But I feel like they always lie.” 

“Really?” He says, hands finding their way around your waist once again, you can see his grin in the mirror, the one you know spells trouble, "Let’s buy it and test it out then.” Satoru murmurs into your ear.

You shake your head shamefully at him and place the red lipstick in the cart...But there’s already a smile pulling at your lips, “You’re right, we can also try out the other one’s as well.” 

✰

“seems Dior doesn’t disappoint.” You murmur, glancing at your lips in your compact mirror. The lipstick hadn't budged one bit, still perfectly dark red and in place upon your lips.

Satoru on the other hand…“You look soo prettyy, baby.” He slurs, completely and utterly overstimulated, cheeks flushed and eyes lidded. “Red is your color, girl.” You laugh at his delirium and he giggles in response, brushing a trembling thumb across your painted lips. 

“Thanks, babe,” You smile, pressing a kiss to his finger, “Let’s check one more time, you know I like to be sure about my makeup.” 

Satoru’s eyes widened despite the stiffness quickly returning to his spent cock, “I-I don’t think I can anymore, baby.” He tries, giving you a nervous smile.

“C’monn, this was your idea, 'toru.” The second Satoru handed his black card to the cashier at sephora, the two of you sauntered across the mall to a department store, with striped black and white bags in hand (or more in Satoru’s hands), and grabbed a random article of clothing before piling into the dressing room. That was only what, three orgasms ago..?

“And it’s already hard for me.” You murmured, stroking his cock in your warm grasp, acrylic nailed-fingers slick with his cum. “You don’t want to help me anymore, baby?” You asked with furrowed eyebrows, your red lips down in a pout, and fuck he couldn't refuse you when you look at him like that. 

“I-I do, it’s just—ah” You don’t give him a chance to finish as you take him into your mouth again, his thick length slowly disappearing between your lucious red lips. Satoru gives a nervous laugh, moaning at the feeling of your perfect tongue sliding along his cock. “Fuuuck, baby.”

It doesn’t help that you’re making little moans in the back of your throat as you do it, the little vibrations sending tingles throughout his whole body and he has to remind himself that he can’t be loud. 

You pull off him with a sigh, lips shiny with his pre but still so gorgeously red, “You gotta be rough with me, 'toru, c’mon. I know you love fucking my mouth.” 

If he wasn’t so fucked out he’d give a snide reply, but he doesn’t understand how he hasn’t passed out as you fasten your lips around him again. He’s whimpering as you deep throat him, then sifting his fingers through your hair and forcing you down on his cock, whining a little at the surprised sound you make as you slightly choke on him. 

Tears are springing to your eyes now and you’re struggling to breath, but there’s a thrill in that, you’re sure your panties are drenched and you’re dripping all over the floor of this department store changing room. Satoru’s practically drooling as he moans and whimpers, his words all gibberish as he sloppily fucks your throat. And then he pushes you down to the base, your nose nestled into his soft pubic hair as he empties his load down your throat. Somehow that makes you moan louder than he does. 

You ignore the urge to overstimulate him further, pulling off his softening cock and pressing a kiss to his stomach, “good job, Satoru," you coo, "you’re so good for me.” 

He pulls you up and into a kiss, much less messy than the one that got the two of you in here, more lazy and loving. When you pull away, you rub your thumb along satoru’s pink lips, not a trace of red in sight. “What the fuck is this stuff made of?” You murmur and Satoru chuckles, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“what are you made of, you almost killed me, girl!"  

You laughed, “Hey, you started it.” He pressed another kiss to the side of your lips, then your neck, then kneels down in front of you, his blue eyes twinkling as he looks up at you. You card your fingers through his hair as you smile down at him.

“and I’ll finish it too."

and then they got banned from the department store.

[bernardsbendystraws]

𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐘𝐨𝐮 — 𝐌.𝐒.

SUMMARY ʚɞ Moments where Matt shows you how much he's gonna miss you before tour.

CW ʚɞ Smut, fluff, and angst. Crying, needy sex, raw sex, creampie, p n v, kissing, teasing, begging, and more.

PAIRING ʚɞ Reader x Matt Sturniolo

A/N: COPYRIGHT NOTICE. This is pretty long, but half of it is smut (very emotional intimacy)

With love and big tits, Rose ➜ navigation

Tour. Sad yet exciting. 

You’re thrilled for your boyfriend, but you’re also a little depressed. He’s gonna be gone for so long, a busy schedule that will make calling a difficult task between different time zones and all the other chaos. 

Matt knows he’s gonna miss you. He’s enthralled by the idea of traveling around with Nick and Chris, but he’s less than happy about the thought of leaving you. 

The last day before he leaves, he shows you how much he’s really gonna miss you. 

01: Really Gonna Miss You.

“Baby,” Matt husks, trying to kiss lightly on the side of your neck as he spoons you from behind. 

You hazily grumble in response. Matt bites on his lower lip, nuzzling the tip of his nose beneath your ear as he hums against you. 

“Wanna go get breakfast?” he offers. Your eyes peek open. He feels his cheeks flush with a soft smile as you gleam over at him. 

The slight nod you offer makes his heart fill with a feathery warmth, his hand on your lower stomach massaging slightly as he places another delicate kiss on the side of your neck. 

“Hmmm, good,” he purrs, his breath fanning behind your ear making your body twinge with delight, “-gonna take you on a full adventure today. Makeup for all the missed time before and after the tour, alright?” 

Even though you’ve just woken up, you still feel like you’re dreaming. He’s just so sweet—so passionate and kind. You can’t help but clutch your hand on top of his, squeezing as he pulls you even closer. 

A slight laugh purses through your lips as you attempt to get up. Matt is reluctant to let you out of his hold, but eventually allows you to move, following you as you get ready. 

He gets dressed after you, making sure to coordinate his outfit to yours. The sight of him holding up articles of clothing against your outfit to match the colors perfectly makes your heart pulse in your chest. 

You’re really gonna miss him. 

Matt notices your face falling as you sit on the bed, waiting for him to finish getting dressed. He has jeans on, the shirt still laying on the duvet, but he doesn’t care. 

“Hey,” he coos, standing in front of you, cupping your face in his hands as he gleams down at you with a soft worry. “-what’s up, sweetheart?” he asks. 

Your lips twitch with sadness. Staring up towards the ceiling, you blink profusely, shaking your head as you feel his fingers glide delicately over your cheeks. 

Matt kneels down, guiding your eyes to his as he holds your face with a gentle grip. Your lip wobbles as you stare at him, the thought of him being so far away starting to really sink in. 

“What’s going on?” he questions, his voice soft yet deliberate. 

Your heart clenches in your chest, a lump in your throat making it harder to breathe as you choke out the words, “I…just—’m really gonna miss you.” 

Matt’s face falls as he sees a singular tear stride down your cheek. It takes all of his effort to keep his own emotions at bay, wanting to comfort you and make sure you’re happy with the little time you two have left together before he leaves. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” he soothes, his knees shuffling across the ground as he moves closer to you. 

Matt drops his hands from your face, letting them slide down your arms before he clutches your hands on his own, resting the tangled fingers on top of your knees as he stares up at you with pure devotion. 

“-’m sorry, I’m—I’m trying not to think about it—”

He interrupts your stumbling words, clutching your hands tighter as he leans down, pressing soft kisses along each of your knuckles.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he whispers, pushing the back of your palm against his cheek. The feeling of his light stubble tickling into your skin makes your gut flutter with comfort. You take a deep breath, watching as he starts to kiss along your hands, his lips warm and gentle.

“I’m gonna miss you too. So much.” 

His voice is strained. You can’t help but feel your eyes fog with more tears, embracing the moment as you think of the painful thought of waking up alone. 

02: The Day of Dates.

After brunch, Matt refused to let the adventures end there. It’s been an eventful day, the sun barely above the horizon as you sit in his car, looking over the cliffside as the smell of McDonalds floods the car. 

Your face flushes as you feel him staring at you. All the food left you feeling full, but he left you feeling complete. 

Shifting, you adjust in the passenger seat, the feeling of his hand clasped around your thigh squeezing lightly. 

He really loves to touch you. It’s always been a big part of how he shows his love, and you have no complaints. However, today has been different. It’s like he can’t keep his hands off of you for even a millisecond. 

“You’re so beautiful.” he compliments, leaving over the center console to press a kiss to your cheek. The gentle touch of his lips leaves your stomach fluttering, your lips pursing together into  a tight line as you keep your gaze trained on the cotton candy sky through the front windshield. 

“Matt, you’re supposed to be watching the sunset.” you remark, biting on your lower lip as you feel one of his hands callus beneath your chin, pulling your gaze towards him. 

God. 

The look in his eyes makes you feel like you're melting. Your chest hitches with a sharp breath, your eyes softly falling shut as you feel his lips press against your own. 

No matter how many times you kiss him, it’s always the same feeling—sensations of pure bliss paired with a passionate comfort. 

Matt pulls back, smiling as he watches you slowly blink your eyes open towards him. “I don’t care about the sunset,” he purrs, leaning his forehead against your own as you feel the tip of his nose graze yours, “-not as much as I care about you.” 

03: Home. 

Coming home created more desperation. The day is over, your last day is practically gone. 

Matt’s lips are needy. His tongue plunders into your mouth with a romantic yearning. 

Hungrily, he kisses down your neck, his lips wandering around your breasts and down your stomach. “Can’t-” his lips grasp for air as he whispers against your skin, kissing you relentlessly as if he needs it more than air. “-get.” kiss. “-enough of you.” kiss. kiss. kiss. 

Your mouth draws open as you feel his length slide against your dripping cunt. Clothes had been discarded long ago, but he couldn’t seem to stop kissing you. 

He’s always loved foreplay and making out, but this is more than that, this is pure longing—absolute desperation.

Every second feels like hours. The sensation of a wet slick dripping from your heat is painfully apparent. Matt is selfish taking his time with you, trying to absorb every single sound leaving your lips as if he’s trying to remember this forever. 

“Matt, I—I need you.” you plea, your chest rising and falling with gasping breaths as you clutch onto his biceps while he hovers above you. 

“Hmmm, just,” he nips lightly on your nipple, his hand sliding up and down your waist, “-a little longer. Need this, baby. Need it so bad.” he groans. 

A sharp whine erupts from the back of your throat as you feel his throbbing length slide over your clit. Your body automatically chases the friction, a deep moan vibrating from his lips as you grind your hip against him. 

“Stay still.” he directs, his voice firm but gentle. You can’t help but shake your head vigorously, the ache between your legs unbearable as you repeat the motions. “Fuck.” he seethes, grasping tightly onto your waist, trying to keep you in place. 

Tears are bubbling on your lower lash line. Matt’s ears perk at the sound of a real cry falling from your lips, looking up and sparing a sympathetic frown as he watches a tear cascade down your cheek. 

“Oh, baby…” he coos, wiping the wetness off your face before placing a gentle peck to your lips. Matt looks into your eyes, sinking his hips to glide against your sobbing pussy as he watches your eyes roll with relief. 

“Matt, please.” you cry, your nails piercing into his arms as he readjusts himself slowly. 

“Need me to fuck you now, hm?” he asks, gliding his cock through your wetness as you vigorously nod your head. “Been teasin’ you too much, huh?” he tuts, slowly starting to push the tip of his length against your entrance, mocking your facial expression as your mouth drops into a perfect ‘O.’ 

“Please, please, please—oh!” you gasp, your chest hitching as your body freezes. 

The sensation of his length gliding into your hole making every pore on your skin burn, the stretch of his thick, veiny cock making you let out a broken moan. 

“That’s it, baby, c’mon, take it all for me,” he coos, hovering back on top of you as he pets his fingers over your cheek, slightly pulling out to let your slick coat his length before gliding right back in. “God,” he groans, his head falling into the crook of your neck as your walls clutch around his member tightly. 

He starts to gently rock his hips, his shoulders broadening with pride as he hears satisfied noises erupt from your lips. 

“Matt, it—I—mmmm,” you moan, completely at a loss for words as he ruts into you deeply, using precision to make sure he hits the perfect spot that makes your body tense with each thrust. 

Your sticky walls are grasping around his length so tightly that it’s hard to focus on anything but trying not to cum. Matt accidentally lets his instincts take over, a loud scream falling from your lips at a particularly hard thrust. 

“Sorry, I’m—’m sorry, fuck,” he groans, rocking himself in and out of you, completely lost in the way you feel—the way you sound. “-you feel so good.” he purrs. 

Your gut is twisted in knots. Every part of your body is pulsing with pleasure, words hard to find as you feel his movements speed up a little more, never losing any depth as he plunges his cock inside of you with deliberate intent. 

“Matt, I–it’s—close, baby, close,” you squeal, your breath stuck in your throat as his thick cock hits right where you need him to. 

“C’mon, you—you got it,” he praises, hissing as you start to convulse around his length. 

Your body is shaking, your face contorted with utter bliss as hot waves of euphoria crash over you. Matt feels his balls tighten, his high dangerously close as he tries to ride you through your own orgasm. 

“Sweetheart, gotta—need—’m gonna cum, where do you—” 

Matt is cut off as your legs wrap around his waist, the heels of your feet digging into his lower back. He whimpers, trying to hold off, crying out as you hold him in place even tighter. 

Usually, you don’t let him finish inside of you, but right now you need it. You need it deep, hard, and raw. 

You need to be full. 

“Inside, Matt. Please.” 

Your voice is strained from all the overstimulation. Matt’s hips are tensing, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he leans against your shoulder, struggling to keep himself propped up. 

“Are you sure, baby?” he asks, getting cut off by an elongated moan as he feels your walls pulse around him. 

“I need it. Need you to fill me up—”

The words barely leave your mouth. Matt can’t help but lose any restraint, allowing himself to let go as the warmth of his cum erupts deep inside of you. 

Your hands tangle in his hair. He lets his body fall limp on top of you, his lungs burning as he gasps for air. 

And then the sad thought crashes over you again. 

He’s leaving tomorrow. Tonight is all you have. 

Matt slowly retracts his softening dick, trying to not stare as he watches his cum drip from your swollen pussy lips. You laugh as he nearly drools, his eyes trained on the sight as he stands up. 

“Sorry.” he blushes, rushing to get a damp cloth. 

The second he leaves, you feel a wave of defeat. 

You’re not ready to wake up alone, you’re not ready to feel so far from him. 

Matt comes back quickly, apologizing under his breath as he cleans you up with a damp cloth. He notices the sad look on your face as he tries to hand you your underwear, knowing you usually like to at least have panties on when sleeping. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, throwing the article of clothing back onto the ground carelessly as you hold an arm open for him. 

Matt slides on his back, resting against the pillows as you practically lay on top of him. “Hey, hey, hey,” he coos, feeling the dampness of your tears leak onto his neck, pulling you impossibly closer as you sniffle. 

“I—I…gonna—’m gonna miss you.” you stammer, choking on tears as you clutch onto him closer. 

His face furrows, his eyes fogging with an overflowing warmth as he loses his ability to hold his own tears back. 

“I’m gonna miss you too. So much.” he whispers. 

Matt continues to hold you in his arms. The two of you both fight off sleep as you try to take advantage of every minute you have left together. Random jokes, reminiscent memories…anything and everything is talked about under the moon until the sun starts to peek out into the sky. 

He’s exhausted. Waking up, he shuts off his alarm as quickly as possible, sighing in relief as he sees you still sound asleep. But he doesn’t regret it. In fact, he knows this night will keep him going when he starts to miss you really badly. 

He knows it’s gonna be okay as long as he’s coming home to you.

[baepsays]

I'D GIVE YOU EVERYTHING (I JUST WANT TO SEE YOU WIN) ‧₊˚𓇢𓆸 ⸻ clan head Gojo

CHAPTER TWO: Lady Gojo

𓍯𓂃 pairing⋙ post Shinjuku clan leader Gojo x non-sorcerer reader

𓍯𓂃 description⋙ navigating a married life is hard enough, it is harder when you know nothing about your husband other than his heroic scars and dizzying smile.

𓆰𓆪 cw in this chapter⋙ canon divergence, NSFW, MDNI, clan and jujutsu world politics, arranged marriage, husband Gojo, Gojo with scars, one sided conflict, one sided pining, eventually both sided pining, so much yearning, slow burn, in a sort of eccentric way ngl, suggestive stuff, they are both a little stupid about e/o, misogyny (not by Gojo), dysfunctional families, fem oriented reader, use of she/her pronouns, angst, some fluff, eventually fully, Mr. wife guy (non derogatory), condescending Gojo, this is quite an angsty chapter, lots of unhealed trauma, childhood abuse, physical abuse, mention of food, throwing up, riddled with insecurity, mention of death, blood, he is an idiot.

𓍯𓂃 a/n: art in the header by @/RUEheree on twt. honestly i do not think this is as sad as i am making it to be, lol it could be worse. and maybe it will get worse idk? anyway hope you have fun reading <3

word count: 8.1k

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People usually have a lot of expectations about the first day after their wedding. Things like sleeping in, making breakfast together, and having sex. Or go on a honeymoon, where you have more sex, to somewhere more scenic. 

Unfortunately this was not a very usual marriage that you have stumbled upon. Being the lady of the Gojo clan was huge in and of itself, but when you are married to Gojo Satoru on top of that, the living enigma—it is hard to say if you can exist in the shadows anymore.

It was daunting, to say the least, being the center of everyone’s scrutiny and attention. Entirety of thirty six hours have gone by, with you becoming the new lady Gojo, standing beside Satoru, and trying not to get eclipsed by him. Which is a flawed expression of words when there stood the same amount of distance between you two, as the sun and the moon—you have spent some easier thirty six days in your life compared to these last thirty six hours.

Mere thirty six hours, and you have somehow driven your husband further away from you than the preexisting light years of difference between you two.

All you did was, do as you were told. And yet here you were. Somehow things just do not work out for you even when you do as instructed. Neither do they work out when you try to go against the grain.

There has always been a misfit piece of puzzle handed to you, and when you try to forcibly jam it in, everyone seems to get more mad at you. But what can you do with the hand of cards you were dealt with? You play them. But when those cards do not seem to win you anything, how late are you to back away from these games?

What are you to do when your husband calls you wrong for trying to live up to the expectations of the society, your gender, and your respective families? If only you truly knew the answers to all these questions, which are far bigger in the grand scheme of things, than your head could comprehend.

And now it is a lifetime of fumbling around, until you are yet again able to become translucent enough to be ignored for the rest of time. 

You predict that your penchant for wanderlust into the pits of anxiety at this huge table, expanding along with the stretch of the entire room, would be a common occurring theme. Especially with the lack of a husband opposite you on the dining table, and an absence of appetite for the array of delicious food in front of you. Far too much for you to finish by yourself, and far too precious to disappoint the chef; who came up to you and introduced himself to you with the sweetest most welcoming smile that you have been offered by someone in a while. 

“I hope you enjoy everything Gojo-san, Gojo-sama specially requested everything to be made to your liking. ” Was all he said before he disappeared back into the kitchen. 

So you did your best. To finish as much as you could, at the very least, to try a bite out of everything chef Suzuki prepared, especially for you, apparently with your husband’s special request.

Even though he, himself, was not available to eat a proper meal with you under his roof. He made sure the food was catered to your preference, he most likely got the intel from your mother or someone else, because there was barely anything you could swallow down your throat without almost regurgitating it. 

You have spent your life in the confines of your father’s estate trying to mold into a perfectly eligible lady for a clan head to wed off. And that required a very specific diet and taste. Which unfortunately you never really became fond of, nor did you get accustomed to. You distinctly remember how as a child when you threw a tantrum at the dining table, for not wanting to eat the same soup you were chugging down currently, you were left to starve the entire night instead.

The lashes of thin bamboo leaving red marks all over your arms, were still fresh in your memories. And when the sweet grandma who did your laundry, and her grandson, sneaked in some packaged chips for you—you remember how hard you cried for two days and fell ill, not because of the lashes you got as punishment, but because your one and only childhood friend, and his grandmother, the elderly lady who actually treated you like a child, were dismissed and driven out of your clan's estate without a single thought. 

You do not want to repeat those mistakes again. One wrong move by you could have someone pay for it with their entire livelihood. Who knows if Gojo Satoru will even spare the chef his life. You have heard how much of a cruel man he is behind his suave facade, and you did not want to unmask that.

But how sure were you that the mask was not already being chipped away at? After the events of last night and this morning, you were not sure about your position in this game, what move to make next. Everything you know about the rules; the rights and wrongs, were all backfiring. 

So the wisest thing to do here, is to sit pretty and do as you are told.

The first seven days after the wedding were monotonous to say the least, and somber to say the most. The tour of the estate took about almost three days, and even then you could only explore the entirety of the right wing’s ground floor and some parts in the center, leaving behind at least more than sixty percent of the property unexplored. And you were left too tired and too overwhelmed to finish the rest of it. So you simply told the ladies appointed to show you around, that,

‘I have a lifetime to familiarize myself with the entirety of it.’

Sure the nervous chuckle you gave them before turning on your feet and heading towards the opposite direction, seemed innocent and endearing enough for them to spread the word—that how happy their madame is to be here! 

But the truth couldn't be further from that. 

To simply put it, it was too frightening. And it felt like you were crossing some sort of imaginary boundary. In these last three days, you've been confined to the right side, and some partial space in the center of the building. And it felt like that's all you've been permitted access to, because that's how it has always been. In fact this was more than what you've been brought up with. Sure, your parental home isn't as vast and huge as your husband's, but even then it was huge in size compared to what you think most normal houses are. And you've only been able to walk through only some of the halls of the place which was meant to be your home.

For a place which you wanted to call your home, it sure never felt like it. Whenever you wandered anywhere other than the library you cherished, your own room, and the gardens, and some other sitting rooms; you were given stern punishments. Eventually the unknown nooks and crannies of your own house became not worth the stinging red lines on the palm of your hands, or the little amount of food that was served to your room.

So naturally, when Satoru carried you in through the main entrance, and walked through the halls to get to your room, you associated that selected path, and area as your newfound boundary. Even the stairs leading to the second story of the mansion was too forbidden of sorts, for you to walk up to.

So part of the reason why you are yet to tour the entire estate was this, and the other part was that you were not ready to stumble into your husband in these halls. 

Even if it's your shared property, it's not your home. It's his, it's all his. And how dare you step a foot on something of his without proper permission? You should just be thankful enough to have been given so much, and it'd just be too greedy to ask for more.

So you left your husband to himself, and left him alone with some of the center, the left wing of the mansion, and the entirety of the first floor. In exchange, you gave yourself solace in the gardens surrounding the mansion, and the woods beyond it. So you couldn't dare to step over that line.

Except, maybe, the library. 

Books have always been a lovely companion to you, when much of your own words didn't mean anything. So you appreciated all the books scattered across all the shelves in the rooms you did not hesitate to step into. But you wanted to allow yourself some audacity to look for the actual library. The thought of its sheer size and capacity to hold hundreds and thousands of centuries old books, made you want to step over that imaginary line you drew for yourself. 

But then, you also have other things to distract you from giving into your desires.

The practice of acclimating with your duties as the now lady of the estate, was much easier than receiving the never ending messages of congratulations, or fighting the urges to cross over the unspoken boundaries that you drew out yourself. It was not as burdensome as you feared it would be, but nonetheless, the duties of the wife of the Gojo Satoru, was sure not easy. 

The first few days were spent in awe of everything, even though you were not from someone’s blood lacking in any affluence; but your new residence, surname, and—the living legend of sorts—husband were scintillating to a blinding degree. And any apparent distant giggling teases of a feet sweeping honeymoon, envisioned by the ladies at your reception—was not happening, to their utter dismay.  

Yet still you have come to enjoy the mundane tasks. Waking up to an empty bed for a straight week, since your first night with your husband, is compensated for by your ladies in waiting, namely, Mia and Suki . Both of their lively fuss in the morning over dressing you up feels more rejuvenating than any cup of coffee.

It makes you want to look forward to the mornings when you go to bed waiting for Satoru, only for him to slip under the sheets after he has been reassured by the maids that you are deep in slumber. So then he could walk into your room, as discreetly as possible, and get ready to slip under the same sheets as you.

To then only stare at how your eyelashes fall on your cheeks, the curve of your cupid’s bow, the bridge of your nose, and the blemishes on your skin, until he falls asleep himself—to then wake up before you, leaving his side of the bed cold and empty, and so neatly cleaned up. That it looks untouched.

Meeting Ichiji after breakfast, to go over Satoru’s schedule, before your husband’s departure to work, feels much more inviting than having breakfast at an empty table with your husband’s absence. 

Discussing breakfast the previous night with chef Suzuki, lunch for yourself and the staff at the estate—as well as discussing what should be packed and sent for the lord of the estate’s lunch. Looking over the needs of each staff member, catering to their meal requirements etc. it was quite a hard job, when done genuinely, but it made you feel closer to each and every member of your new family. 

Understanding the accounts of the estate expenditure, making notes of days when the staff are to be paid, fulfilling their requests, corresponding with other clan members etc. surprisingly kept you busy, as you did your best to remain accurate in your calculations. Because these were to then Bypass Satoru's finals checking.

It was a matter of concern for you before, how you will be spending your time usefully, rather than just sitting idly in a pretty attire. Before, you used to spend your days teaching destitute children, until your parents deemed your career as a good pastime that went on long enough, and eventually it was just that you were to focus on your overdue duties—marriage.

And just like that, that little freedom was also snatched away even after much groveling to your parents. So you presumed as much, it was going to be absurd to even ask your husband to continue that vocation—after all if the people of your own blood can confine you within a boundary before wedding you off on your merry way, like some livestock they raised to be butchered—then expecting anything more from a husband of a week and mere convenience, was out of the question.

The hardest possible job was calling your husband during a particular time of the day, to enquire about his preference for each day's dinner. When he would be on his break, you'd call him, but not at a time when he was actually free enough to pick up his phone immediately. But just busy enough to not be actually able to pick up the phone himself.

It took you some time to perfect the right timing. It is exactly two and a half rings, before you could hang up the phone without any guilt. It was long enough that it showed, ‘oh yes she really called.’, but not long enough for your husband to actually pick up the phone and converse with you. Of course it was silly. Why would you call him if you did not even mean to speak to him?

Because that was not the purpose of the call. It was almost another formality. And how dare you ruin all the efforts he has been putting into to ignore you, for an entire week at that? Of course it was nothing enraging enough to make you do petty things, because this was not petty! You just either really wanted to respect his wishes, or that you were too scared to start another conversation with him. And maybe the answer could be an amalgamation of all the aforementioned reasons.

It seems that you would rather go to far fetched lengths than speak to your own husband directly about what he would like for the kitchen to prepare for dinner. Instead, it was easier to call Ichiji with the excuse that Satoru did not pick up, to then have him ask and relay back what should be prepared for dinner.

It was not that it was imperative for you to ask Satoru such tedious things, you were not even sure how this whole thing started. The very first day after you two were wed, and later in the morning when he walked out on you after calling you wrong for trying to abide by your wifely duties, the kitchen asked for your opinion for dinner. And after that nauseating breakfast experience, you did not have the mind to think about food, so you skipped lunch, and so did Satoru, without you at the table he simply dismissed everyone to their own vices and returned to his hiding. You wanted to respect their wishes and give them an answer, but you also did not really have anything on your mind. 

Naturally, you told them to just ask Satoru, but since apparently your husband already locked himself in his office in the very opposite end of the estate from you, and had some important people over to congratulate him, no one was brave enough to disrupt him.

But something told them it was acceptable for you to intervene.

“How- how am I supposed to ask him? I, I do not think I should.” You spoke loud enough for the staff to hear, but it was mostly for yourself to hear those words, and know your place. 

“We truly think Gojo-sama would not mind if you went in, madam. Well, if you are still so hesitant, why not just call him?” Chef Suzuki suggested for the others to nod along with him. And you did not have the heart to tell them the already sour nature of your relationship with their lord. So you sat down in the nearest sitting room, if you can even call such a massive room, just that. The Gojo estate expanded through truly acres and acres of land, so there were plenty of rooms with the most comfortable couches and chairs, and plenty more telephone to communicate with people in the other areas of the estate.

One ring. Two rings. Two and a half rings. Three rings-

“Hello.” 

Oh he picked up. And oh, his voice sounded different. Different from how he speaks with you. It sounded more authoritative. More rough, more distant. 

And here you thought only you were subjugated to his apathy and ignorance.

“Hello?” Oh right, you answer someone when they pick up the phone, right.

“Um- hello.” All sound on his end halted. Or maybe it felt like that to him. 

“I- I just, I mean- the chef wanted to ask- what would you like for dinner?” Goodness, when did you get so bad at conversing over the phone?

There was a long awkward pause after that question. You were fully expecting him to just scoff at your audacity to even think you could call him to ask such things, and hang up on you. You were expecting dinner to be cancelled altogether. And after skipping lunch, and throwing up everything you had for breakfast, you couldn't afford that.

“Please let the chef know that I'll have whatever you'd like.” His voice sounded softer than how he previously spoke, or maybe it was just that he was trying to not shout at you in front of his guests. Either way, you were grateful. That he did not prolong this call with names of illegible culinary words you could not relay back, and get deemed unsophisticated.

“Alright. Please be at the table by the time it is served.” You did not expect him to have dinner with you. But you still asked, maybe there was some pleading in your voice as well. Or maybe you just did not want to eat alone. 

“Of course, sweetheart. And I'm sorry about this morning.” 

Oh? 

Oh!

He says sorry? The head of the Gojo clan says sorry, to his wife? In front of other people of authority? You've had some wild and confusing interactions with this man since you married him not even barely twenty four hours ago, and this was probably the wildest interaction you've had with a man in your life. A man with such power at that. And you could not, or maybe you did not know how to answer him. So you did the next worst thing to stutter an ok, you hung up on him. 

Everyone around you giggled and smiled discreetly, as you scrambled away to the kitchen, offering not needed, but appreciated, help to chef Suzuki. 

And when dinner time came, you started setting up that huge table by yourself, dismissing everyone to eat their own meals. Not expecting a husband to accompany you for the meal, you busied yourself with the cutlery and fine china, when a looming figure leaned on the door frame to observe you from a far.

It seems as though Gojo Satoru has developed a weird pension for staring at his wife from afar.

And he has also developed the knack for scaring her by silently coming up to her from behind without any warning. He liked that you shriek and jump when you realize you're not just by yourself anymore. He likes to think that one day you'll jump in joy rather than surprise to see him walk in without any warning.

So you both silently sat yourselves down at the very opposite ends of the dining table, both at the head of each end, and silently ate your dinner. Which was much easier to chow down than the breakfast you had earlier. Which thankfully did not upset your stomach too bad. You did not exchange words, just silently stole glances, and when your eyes would land on his eyes, which would be already trained on you more than half of the time—you’d scurry to finish your meal before him and leave him at an empty table. 

Reap what you sow. 

Now that is how this entire calling Satoru—or Ichiji to be more exact—thing started. Everyday since then you've never failed to call him, and hung up after that almost third ring, to not allow him the chance to respond; to then ask him through Ichiji, what he'd like for dinner. For lunch, If he was at his home office, he'd eat there. And if he was not home, his lunch would be packed and delivered.

Some sorry it was. Given as a formality, and taken not seriously.

The chef, or the staff, or the ladies appointed to you, never clarified that you did not have to do this entire thing, calling him everyday to just ask about dinner. This was not part of the duties assigned to you, and the kitchen has always cycled through a set of preparation their lord preferred, and it was already an established, much easier, routine. But no one tried to object to the new everyday routine. 

Especially when Satoru himself did not mind the new routine. Sure, he'd much appreciate you asking him directly, but he'd have the short end of the bargain either way.

And everyday it was more than enough entertainment for all of them to see their madame struggle to address their master. Satoru was never truly involved in such tasks, much of the responsibilities you take care of now used to fall on poor Ichiji’s shoulders, so the change of pace was much appreciated by everyone. After all, he was too busy being the strongest weapon in jujutsu history to look after everything himself. 

So somewhere everyone, including your husband, found your insistence to note down his opinions over such trivial things, too endearing to enlighten you. Though this routine of calls have become quite complicated over the past week. And so you have developed a habit of having lunch with the chef and kitchen staff.

On rare, yet day by day more frequent occasions, like today, instead of the kitchen staff, you would be sitting opposite your husband over lunch.

It was not often you sat down in a room with Satoru without any reason, in fact you can count on one hand how many times you have done that. So waiting for lunch to be served on a comically large dining table, sitting on the very opposite end from him, was new everytime. It was awkward enough to share any meal other than the scheduled dinner with him, that too he always left much earlier than you, thankfully. 

Who knows what it was? Was it his engulfing cologne clogging your nose, disabling you from smelling the food served in front of you. Or simply the annoyingly perfect sight of him, so casually eating like it was the most natural thing to do—while you sat there, a nervous wreck. But regardless, you did not seem to have any appetite. Which was apparent enough for everyone, including Satoru to notice that across from the table.

“Is there anything on your plate that you don’t like? I can ask the chef to make you something else.” There was, as if, a genuine concern in his voice. For you, that was simply weird.

“Oh. No, I am fine. I just had a snack earlier.” The poorly told lie was not one to pass Gojo Satoru or his six eyes. But for you he was willing to make an excuse. 

“Is that so? I think I am done as well.” It was a risky tactic he was employing, trying to bait you with guilt was low even for him. 

“But you’ve barely started!?” “And you barely had any breakfast. I am more than sure if I asked anyone here what fulfilling snack you had, the answer would be underwhelming.” How would he even know what you did or not have for breakfast when he was not even there to begin with?

For a few seconds he sat there assessing if he had pissed you off again. As invigorating as it is to mildly anger you, he would not have that at the cost of your meal. To his relief without any more protest you went back to your plate to take a proper mouthful bite.

If anyone tested Satoru’s patience as you did, as well as avoided him as skillfully as you have; it would have ended up not as kindly as it has been with you. He has been trying to give you space, to let you breathe, and foster a home for yourself, in his house. Unfortunately in those attempts he has made you feel neglected and ignored instead, for someone so perceptive, he sure is clueless.

Because when he tried to give you that space, after that poorly said sorry, he thought by extension it was part of the apology. Which mistranslated to you, as some formality and ignorance. When he was merely trying to make you feel more comfortable, and holding himself back from stepping over any more land mines. 

Those said land mines are simply just his unfathomably and rapidly growing feelings for you. His concerns, and worries about your wellbeing. And just thoughts of you randomly hijacking his mind. It takes Suguru one too many times a day to nudge his head, to bring him out of some sort of trance that he goes into when you come into his mind. 

But after the first week, he has found himself to enjoy invading your space rather than trying to give you space. It made him ecstatic to hear your voice panic a little when from time to time he would pick up your routinely strategic calls instead of missing them. He does think, even you have to admit for yourself, that two and a half rings are far too few before hanging up on someone. Also he did not appreciate Ichiji asking him what he would like for dinner, instead of you. You made this new habit, you must be the one to ask as well. 

“What would you like for the chef to prepare tonight?” 

“Hmm?” he looked a little dumbfounded at your sudden question, was it not enough you were infiltrating his mind and now you are reading his thoughts as well? Upon acclimating with the situation, he sees his own and your empty plates. Guess he finished his meal while he was too busy thinking of, again, you. 

“I mean, what do you want for dinner?” you ask once again, in hopes of a more clear answer. But god forbid your husband ever gave you a desirable answer to your questions. 

“You.”

If someone wanted to learn how to kill someone with a single word, it should be recorded how this exchange happened. The food in your mouth choked in your throat, it had your husband sprint from his own seat to your end of the table, to pat you on the back and hand you a glass of water. After a few minutes and some water later, the food went down the pipe, but the word did not.

“Goodness, I was only joking, sweets.” 

He was in fact, not joking.

“Y-you were?” He nodded a very convincing yes, trying not to scare off his already spooked wife. 

“It was a very poor attempt at a joke. But I appreciate the effort.” You ended your sentence with a smile that subconsciously made its way to your lips. He does not remember when was the last time you smiled at him, or, for him.

And he chuckled at your honesty. He found it so refreshing and interesting. It is not that no one has ever told him how bad his jokes were, or worse when people laugh at his jokes merely outbid fear. He knows his humor was not to everyone's taste. But he liked that you did not just put him down, maybe out of your still very scared view of him, or maybe out of sympathy. But he appreciated the change of pace where his friends would just shit on him for such jokes, or when people would laugh too loud and too obviously out of fear.

But then again, he was just trying to mask truth with humor. 

Which has been a staple for him. The truth is as plain as he said it, he wants you. He wants you carnally maybe, he wants to eat you up. He wants you to chew him up like a gum and spit him out at your convenience. 

But more than that, Satoru thinks he also wants you beyond bodily, physical needs. He does not think he even thought about touching you since your first meeting, until he actually touched your skin that night. He saw you in that room, sitting behind that cedar wood table, looking smaller than everyone in that room, despite your status. And he thought—’Great. A meek little mouse instead of a bride.’

But when you actually answered his teasing, and honestly, patronizing question instead of timidly bowing your head in respect, like he expected you to—he saw a dwindling spark in your eyes in that moment, instead of fear and vast pit of emptiness, that he first saw in them when he opened those doors.

And he knew even if there was someone more capable to stand beside him, maybe he would rather stand with you. 

He cannot still exactly pinpoint what it is that he craved from you, or if it's just that he simply craves you, but he wants more. He wants more of you, more from you. He wants you just simply to exist around him. Your skin sent waves of heat through his skin when he touched it, it was burning hot compared to his own cold body, you felt so warm and so alive in that moment, and he simply wants more.

He does not think he loves you. Yet. At the very least. He does not think he fell in love with you just as he laid his eyes on you that day, maybe he pities you that much. Maybe it is just like adopting a frail kitten stuck in a storm and giving her a shelter to thrive in. He has thought about that. But he came to the conclusion that he is done playing some hero. 

The world has had enough of Gojo Satoru—the strongest, the saviour, and the weapon.

He simply wants to exist, as he wants to exist for someone. He does not want to sacrifice anymore. For once he wants to be selfish. He wants to selfishly live on, and live with someone. And he has chosen that someone to be you. 

And if you were just some sympathy case, he doesn't think he would've felt such feelings for you. He truly needs you, more than he wants you. He needs you to want him, he needs you to look at him with the same eyes as you did when you told him off for being late, or when you looked him up through those blurry pupils while being pinned under him. 

He truly, earnestly, needs to have you. Most romantically, spiritually, and disrespectfully.

He would rather have you on this table than the spread of a very well prepared meal. But those aren't thoughts that can be easily dumped on his wife, who has schemed up tactful ways to avoid even hearing his voice through the phone.

“Just ask them to prepare what you'd like.” He smiled reassuringly before picking up your plate, as well as his, so quickly, even beating the staff and you to it—and headed straight to the kitchen sink.

To maybe drown himself in the sink after putting away the dirty plates.

It is truly magnificent, how wonderful the garden looks at night. 

How the koi pond dims down at night, and the stones and the sand become cold with the dropping temperature. The pine trees rustled and threw their needles all over the ground, as if to deter the sharp wind, to protect their garden from its sharp claws. And it seems like an entire play is happening right outside of your windows. 

But you have been more interested in what goes on behind that battle ground. In the little grove of trees, and wild flowers, where the wind seems more forgiving, and the trees feel more comforting. 

And it feels like an entirely new world beyond the bridge over the stream, that connects to the lake nestled in the trees. And you've come to find a safety net in that new world of yours. 

Particularly sitting down on one of those benches under the cherry blossom trees by the said lake, the one near the bridge seems too out of your reach, so you always opt for the one across it—the only reason why is because your husband seems to like that bench for himself.

Though it takes a bit of a walk from your room on the right side, or even the left wing of the mansion, to go over the only bridge that crosses the stream, which lies as a boundary between the tidy gardens and the unbridled woods—it was easily accessible from the center. 

After the first time you did dare to cross that bridge, you did not think of crossing it again. Maybe because you were too busy waiting for your husband to return to bed, or afraid of interrupting Satoru. Either way, you tried your best to not cross that bridge.

The second time you went there, was when you saw Satoru crossing that bridge around twelve AM, when you were just sprawled on the couch in that particular drawing room that looked over the bridge. Not ready to retire to that huge bed by yourself, you followed him there.

And all he did was sit on the bench under the cherry blossom tree, which stood by the lake around twenty five steps away from the bridge. 

You did not dare to disturb him, he looked so calm, and at peace. For once, from what you could make out from behind the huge and unkempt hydrangea bushes, his eyes did not look pained. 

It is that people often saw Gojo Satoru only with his blindfold on, but you mostly ever saw him without it. So you honestly felt like he was punishing you when he started wearing them around you more often since the first time you two had dinner together. You hadn't seen him for the entirety of that day, the entire morning you spent hunched over the toilet, and the evening you spent by replaying the conversation you had with him over the phone. 

‘I’m sorry.’

Is what he said. And you thought, maybe it was just a fluke, what happened that morning. Things will get better. Then to only be greeted with a husband across that long table, with a blindfold covering half of his face. And it felt more punishing than being told that you were wrong.

But from what you made out of what you have seen of his eyes, and those half empty smiles and smirks he threw your way—he was pained. It hurt him, to simply see you, just to be around you. The only place where he roamed around so freely without those obstructions in front of his eyes, for his own good, was his home—and now you've taken that away from him as well.

So then you started to ignore him. After waiting for him in that huge bed, that huge table, those huge rooms—you gave up easily. As easily as he threw a half assed apology for you to latch onto some false hope. You avoided walking into him. You avoided trying to stay up for him, or starving yourself, you avoided his voice, and but you still tried to get a peek of his hidden eyes.

Until you couldn't help but follow him into these woods. And so you sat there looking at him, creeping in the shadows, while the lake’s water reflected beams of light on his face, and made his blue eyes shine a different shade of blue than what it usually reflects. And the scars that dug themselves on his skin, looked deeper than what they usually did. It looked like he was freshly wounded, and the most vulnerable, he could allow himself to be.

You waited there until he got up from his seat and disappeared into the thin air. 

And that's how your own routine started. You waited until twelve AM to see if Satoru went into the woods, and waited for about an hour and a half more to check if the lights in your room were turned on from under the door. To then sneak into the woods. Some days he'd be gone, other days he'd still be under that cherry blossom tree.

And if he was not there, you'd make your own way to take a seat under the cherry blossom tree across the lake, other times you'd wait for him to disappear from behind those hydrangea bushes.

Today was one of those days.

You waited, and waited, until it seemed like he had teleported back to your bedroom, to make your way to the bench on the other side. And when you made it there, you found it out to be occupied by your husband himself. So you did what you could do, in a state of panic, you tried your best to silently turn around and walk away without rumbling the bushes or rustling the grass under your feet. To make your escape.

“You're leaving already?” His voice came out smooth and steady as ever. And you stopped in your tracks with your back to his back.

“Come here, sit down.” He simply said, without as much as even turning around from where he sat. 

And you could not help but obey. If it was possible, you'd run, run so fast and quick that even his techniques would not be able to track you down. But that is just a delusional imagination.

“I won't repeat.” He said in a heavier tone, but it didn't sound commanding, it was playful if anything. Light and breezy, but sharp. Sharp enough that if you tried to avoid it, it'd cut right through. So despite yourself, you walked over to the bench you've come to love so dearly over the course of the last few weeks, and sat down on the very edge of it. As far away from him as you possibly could sit.

But Satoru couldn't allow that.

It took him a second to lift his left hand off his lap, to lean slightly to your side and drag you towards him by your waist. The ring you put on him the day you married you, shined in the darkness with his swift movements. 

And just like that, you were sitting side by side with your husband. Your bare arm touched the soft fabric of the sleeves on his t-shirt, and the rigid muscles under them pushed into your own arm. His left arm loosened around your back, but his hand remained steady and static on your waist. And your lungs stopped working.

“Need help with breathing also?” It was only his taunting tone that gave your lungs the air needed to not pass out then and there. 

You did not answer him. You did not wish to entertain him. You've entertained him enough by thinking you could get away with trying to sneak past his eyes, when he had his sight on you from the beginning, all six of them. And yet again you felt like a defeated fool against him.

“You- come here often?” The suppressed giggle in his throat almost spilled over with each word uttered.

“Don’t ask questions that you already know the answers to.” You looked away from him, to face the lake, and the ripples in the water. It's as if even the lake was coming down with a second hand embarrassment, looking at how chaotically it's water started moving.

“Alrightttt, alright. I'll stop.” With a last few giggles, he looked away from your face, and focused his covered eyes on the same cherry blossom tree you were eyeing. The one he usually sits under, looked completely different from the other side. 

“I wish they'd bloom soon.” He spoke out loud, it sounded like a passing thought that spilled out unintentionally.

“Do you like cherry blossoms?” You turned your face towards him, his face however, did not turn.

“No. Not really.” “Really?”

“Why? Couldn't you tell that by just looking at me?” he smiled a big toothy grin. That stretched across his face, but even with the blindfold on, you could tell it didn't reach his eyes.

“No. I couldn't. Especially with that thing covering half of your face.” You sure were feeling brave today. Maybe it was the darkness of the night, or the secrecy in the woods, or just the embarrassment of how you ended up here. But words just seemed to flow out of your mouth instead of getting stuck in your throat.

He finally looked towards you, and cranked his neck to look down at your eyes, looking up at him. And he could tell that you knew. That you knew even with his blindfold between your eyes and his, whether he was lying or not. So why bother with it at all right? 

He brought his right hand up to his face, to hook his index and middle finger under his blindfold, and dragged it down on his neck.“I don't think I enjoy how quickly they wither away. But I like how they look when they fall. Unihibited and free.” 

He looked back over towards the lake. With his eyes free to shine under the moonlight. And there it was, the pain. 

“Is that why you have been avoiding me?” you blurted out with furrowed eyebrows and determined eyes.

“I've been- what? Because of the cherry blossoms?” His head whipped towards you as fast as it could without snapping his neck, his left hand tightened around you, and he looked confused.

“No. Because you look like you are in pain whenever you're around me.” Your throat was starting to tighten up.

Suddenly you felt like crying. In fact, your eyes started to well up after every passing moment from when you said your thoughts out loud. This is weird. You don't cry. You never cry. It's been years since you cried. Why are you crying? Is he going to reprimand you for that? 

Well, you can't wait here on this bench to find that out. So you haphazardly pulled yourself out of his arms, and made your way back to the mansion. 

You couldn't even make it past the fifth step, when Satoru dragged you back towards him. He was still sitting on that bench, except now you stood there between him and the cherry blossom tree, in between his legs. Once again, stuck. His chin rested itself on your stomach, as it fluttered away, his eyes looked so soft and his face looked like it wanted to be caressed. Both of his hands ended up on either side of your hips, as if his legs weren't enough to keep you captured. Even when your protests didn't match his strength.

He patiently waited like that until you stopped protesting, and just looked down at his face, still resting on your stomach, looking up at you, and you gave in trying to shove him off of you by his shoulders. Instead you just let them rest there.

“Would you like to elaborate? Pleaseee?” If you told anyone that Gojo Satoru was whining to you right now, they'd call you insane. And maybe that's what's happening to you.

“No.” You are becoming insane.

“Please.” Other than his many ancient and sought after techniques, his most lethal weapon was his pout. So how could you resist those quivering billowy lips?

“I- You just-”, you stuttered trying to answer him, thinking whether or not you could get away with some excuse or straight up lies. But of course you cannot. He truly is too dangerous.

“You just, always- you look as if you're in so much pain when you're around me.” You sighed, finally voicing it out loud, “Isn’t that why you started wearing these around the house, around me?” You passingly pulled on the blindfold hanging on his neck, to make a point.

Yet again, he was left speechless. It's as if you deploy all his devices useless. You render him to nothing. 

How was he supposed to answer you?

That yes, yes you pain him. Your presence simply has become so enthralling that it physically hurts him to hold himself back. To not cross lines he might not be able to come back from. That your claws are creeping deeper in his chest, and he is doing nothing to stop that bleeding.

He has bled to death on a battlefield twice, with no regrets on his mind. But if you were the one to sever him to death—he would gladly take it. And he'd regret that why couldn't he die at your hands an infinite amount of times more. This time around he'd be truly unhappy to leave behind the mortal realm. Because it’d mean leaving you behind with it.

He could not do that. He cannot survive, he simply cannot do anything against you. 

And that pains him. Aches him really, to be this close and yet so far away from you. 

He hates to make you feel avoided, and neglected, but what is he to do when he doesn't have any control over his thoughts and actions when he's around you? 

When your scent simply travels with the wind when you sneak into the woods trying to not alert him, his chest starts tightening up. Your clogged up loose hair in the shower runs a shiver down his spine. When you chew the food on your plate across from him, he wants to leap over the table and pull you into a kiss.

He wants to be the one to show you around the entire estate, and pull you into random little corners and halls, to kiss you helplessly, hidden away from some passing eyes. He wants to be the one to show you the library because he heard from a helper at parent's house that is where you spent most of your days, he wants to buy you all the books you have ever wanted and will ever want. 

He'd like to hold you and lull you to sleep, and dig his face in your chest, and just fall asleep listening to your heart beat—to feel your blood flow under his touch, and your skin warm up against him.

And it truly hurts him. It hurts to know you've never known a home. 

So he wants to give you that. He wants to hand you all the control over him, and have you pull all the strings from here onwards. He wants you to know that everything to his name is yours, even his name is yours, his mere existence is all yours. Because he wants to give it all up to you.

So it hurts him. It hurts to know that you don't know that.

“I'll take your silence as confirmation then.” His grasp on you easily broke off, maybe he was in a trance again, or maybe it was just the power you already held over him. But to you he was simply found guilty of the accusations that you made. And with no sense of justice, you walked away from him. 

And he did not protest. 

Because maybe it's too fast. It's too quick. To feel what he is feeling. How was he going to ever even verbalize these things to you? And not sound crazy? Let alone give you a satisfying explanation.

It has been barely a month since he has married you, barely two months since he's known you. Wouldn't it be too sudden to go from essentially neglecting you, to professing his vow of devotion to you?

But it's just that suddenly, Gojo Satoru realized then and there, how deep he is. That there were no excuses left to make. That perhaps it was too sudden, too quick, just as quick as cherry blossoms blooming and withering away in spring—maybe he is falling for you.

No. Scratch that. It's idiotic to even question this at this point. He has uninhibitedly and freely, fallen for you.

NEXT CHAPTER>>

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divider by @/omi-resources. header is from, and watashitachi wa douka shiteiru drama. art in the header by @/RUEheree on twt.

thank you to indie @indiewritesxoxo beloved for proof reading pre edit <3 wouldn't be out today otherwise

i do not think it was that bad, was it? also i am just calling him husband and blah blah by his titles a lot. which if you find annoying womp womp because i am using that as part of the narration, like she will slowly start to see him more than that. and again it is slow burn, so sit with it. i am making bro so emotionally constipated muahahahaha he is gonna be rambling about sighhhh she is so sighhhhh and then be like hmm not like i love her or anything yk. he is just like me frfr

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