#geeky fluff | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hanniebaeee · 25 days ago

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Hold My Hand

Han Jisung x fem!reader

Warnings: nothing much!

Genre: classmates to lovers, fluff

Summary: Your life was a straight line. Graduate top of your class. Marry Minho. Take over your family business. But then there's Han Jisung - the sweet geeky genius, who has completely stolen your heart.

a/n: Needs another round of editing which I'll do soon.

Bonus

You were terrible at this. Numbers? Fine. Business strategy? More than fine. But Python? It might as well have been ancient hieroglyphs. You sighed, trying to remain calm even though all you wanted to do was scream.

Your life was a straight line - graduate top of your class (questionable, considering you may or may not fail your coding class), marry Minho (your father’s friend’s son and your closest friend - because your fathers promised you to each other) and take over your family business. It was a plan carved in marble. No deviations allowed.

But then there was him. Han Jisung. The scholarship guy from a world that was exactly opposite to yours - completely chaotic. He was all messy hair, glasses slipping down his nose, and thrifted hoodies, making your pulse raise for reasons unknown to you.

You weren't supposed to want someone like Jisung. He wasn't part of the plan. But yet, seeing him stumble into the library with his laptop in hand, your traitorous heart stuttered shamelessly. Exactly like how it had, when he lent you a pen during the first week of class, during an emergency pen situation.

You tried to focus on your screen, but your eyes betrayed you, watching as he looked around for somewhere to sit.

Get it together, you scolded yourself.

But Jisung had noticed you, and it was like watching a cartoon character short-circuit. His eyes widened, his foot caught on a chair, and he nearly faceplanted into a table.

“Oh, uh…h-hey, Y/N!�� he stammered, pushing his glasses up with a shaky finger.

His voice cracked, and you bit your lip to keep from smiling. He was such a mess, and it was so unfairly hot.

“Hi, Jisung,” you said, your tone cool and measured, though your heart was doing cartwheels.

You crossed your legs under the table, hoping he didn’t notice how your hands were trembling. Well, he wouldn't, since he just stood there, frozen. His hands clutched his laptop like a lifeline.

“You, uh, working on the coding assignment? The one due Friday?” His voice was too loud for the library, and a nearby student shushed him.

He winced, mouthing a silent 'sorry', before taking the seat next to you.

“Yes,” you said, glancing at your screen. “It’s… challenging.”

“Challenging?” He laughed nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “That’s one way to put it. Um, do you need help? With the coding, I mean! Not that you’re bad at it! You’re probably great! I just…uh…”

He was spiraling, and it was absolutely adorable.

You tilted your head, considering. This was a bad idea. Getting close to Jisung was like playing with fire when your life was already a perfectly curated museum exhibit. But your assignment was due in three days, and you were drowning.

“If you’re offering,” you said carefully, “I wouldn’t mind some assistance.”

His eyes went wide, like you just handed him the keys to a Ferrari.

“Really? Okay, cool, cool, I can do that. Totally chill.” He was not chill.

He vibrated with nervous energy as he dropped his laptop on the table and slid his chair closer to you.

Too close. His knee brushed yours under the table, and you both froze. He quickly jerked his leg back, muttering, “Sorry, sorry, oh god -,” while you stared at your laptop, trying to ignore the electric jolt that shot through you.

“It’s fine,” you said, pointing at the screen. “I don’t understand why my code keeps crashing.”

Jisung leaned in, squinting at your laptop. His arm brushed yours, and you caught the faint scent of his shampoo - something citrusy, that shouldn’t be this sexy, but was. He was muttering about syntax errors and missing semicolons, but you were barely listening, too distracted by the way his tongue darted out to wet his lips.

“See, here’s the problem,” he said, pointing at a line of code.

His glasses slipped down again, and he pushed them up with a pout. His fingers flew over your keyboard as he fixed the error like it was nothing, and you were mesmerized by how confident he was when he was in his element.

This was a different Jisung - not the flustered mess he was a second ago, but a geeky genius.

He finished typing and turned to you, grinning.

“Try running it now,” he said.

You hit the execute button, and - miracle of miracles - it worked.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, genuinely impressed. “You’re a lifesaver.”

Jisung beamed, but before he could say something, another voice boomed through the silent room, disturbing its peace.

“Hey, Y/N!”

Your head snapped up as Minho walked over with his designer coat and smug grin.

“Didn’t expect to see you slumming it in the library.”

Jisung shrank back into his chair, looking like he wanted to melt into the floor. You sat up straighter, slipping back into your polished persona.

“Minho,” you said coolly. “I was studying.”

Minho’s eyes flicked to Jisung, and he smirked.

“With him? What, you are hiring tutors from the thrift store now?” he asked, but there was no real bite in his words. Minho was always joking around, and that was just his nature.

Jisung’s face flamed, but he muttered, “At least I don’t need daddy’s money to pass my classes.”

Minho’s smirk faltered, and you bit back a laugh.

“Enough,” you said, standing. “Jisung was helping me with an assignment. But we're done here.”

Minho raised an eyebrow, clearly not used to being dismissed.

“Whatever. Let's get going. We have to be at the dinner party in 2 hours, babe.” he said, waiting for you to gather your things, while his eyes lingered on Jisung.

Jisung stared at the table, picking at the edge of his laptop looking like a kicked puppy.

You hated these business parties that your father forced you to attend. But you had to play your part to perfection - Y/N, the poised heiress, future CEO. Your arm looped through Minho’s as he navigated the crowd, his tailored suit hugging his frame perfectly.

He was all charm tonight, flashing his sharp grin, his hand resting on the small of your back.

You’ve kind of known since you were teenagers that he would most probably be your future husband - the final piece of your carefully curated life.

But tonight, it felt so off. Your mind kept drifting to Jisung and his nervous laugh. And you were mentally preparing yourself to talk to Minho. To ask him that one question that has been haunting you for more than a year now.

You two have been friends since forever. But this friendship has been nothing but a friendship from then. The most platonic one ever. Even after your parents casually mentioned that you'd marry Minho one day - there was literally no spark between you two.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Minho murmured, leaning in.

His hand slid lower, fingers grazing the curve of your hip through the thin fabric of your gown.

“What’s got you so distracted?”

You forced a smile, tilting your head to meet his gaze, which was playful, but there was an edge to it, like he knew exactly what you were thinking.

“It's nothing,” You lied quickly and Minho hummed, a frown taking over his face.

He stepped closer, his chest brushing yours as he maneuvered you toward a quieter corner of the ballroom, away from the prying eyes of the crowd.

“What is it?” he asked again, his hand still resting on your waist.

You were used to this - Minho has always been handsy, and you’ve let him get away with it before, chalking it up to familiarity, to the inevitability of your future together. Even though you two weren't actually together. Or engaged. Just stuck in the purgatory of the in-between situation. Unwilling to say the least.

But tonight, his touch felt… wrong. Like it was trespassing on something that didn’t belong to him anymore.

But before you had to act on it, your phone buzzed in your purse, the vibration cutting through the tension. You jumped back, breaking his hold, and fished it out. The screen flashed ‘Mom’, and your heart leapt with relief. Perfect timing.

“I need to take this,” you said, already turning away.

Minho’s expression clouded, but you didn’t give him a chance to argue.

“Sorry, it’s urgent. I’ll find you later.” you said, scurrying away to a safe distance.

And that's when you knew - you were screwed. Absolutely, royally screwed.

You didn’t plan to end up here. Parties weren't your scene - too loud, too messy, too uncontrolled. But your roommate dragged you along, insisting you needed to “live a little” before the stress of midterms (and an impending engagement) crushed you.

So here you were, in a simple black top and jeans, sipping a beer in a corner, trying to blend into the wallpaper. Your parents would have a heart attack if they saw you here, but for once, you weren't thinking about them. Or Minho. Or the way his face fell when you ran away.

But then you see him. Jisung. He was across the room, looking like he wandered into the wrong universe.

He was clutching a beer as talked to some guy - probably one of his nerdy Comp Sci friends - his free hand gesturing wildly as he spoke. Your heart did a stupid little flip, and you hated it.

But then his eyes caught yours, and it was like the room shrank two sizes. His smile faltered and his cheeks flushed as you raised your beer in a half-hearted greeting, and he grinned, all lopsided and shy, before making his way over.

“Y/N?” he said, like he’s shocked you’re real. “What are you doing here?”

“Needed a break. What’s your excuse?” you said, moving over to make room for him to sit.

He laughed, scratching the back of his neck.

“Uh, free beer?” He held up his drink, sloshing a bit onto his sneakers. “Oops. Shit. Pretend you didn’t see that.”

“Too late,” you teased, and he groaned, his blush deepening.

He was so himself - clumsy and sweet - and it was doing things to you. Dangerous things.

And just like that you both get into a conversation. And your cups are empty at some point. So naturally, you followed him into the kitchen, where you found a cooler stuffed with beers. You both grabbed one, popping the caps with a bottle opener someone had tied to the fridge. You leaned against the counter, and Jisung mirrored you, his shoulder brushing yours.

As you looked over at him with a soft smile on your face, and he did the same, you couldn't help but realize that you've never felt this way before. No one has ever made your heart flutter like Jisung did.

The night blurred, and one beer turned into two, then three, and soon you were both tipsy, laughing too loud at Jisung’s dumb impressions of your Comp Sci professor.

Jisung was more at ease now, his nerves dulled by alcohol, and you were not much better, your usual prim-and-proper filter slipping. You were close - too close - your knees bumping as you talked, your hand grazing his when you reached for another drink. Every touch felt like a match struck against your skin.

“God, you’re so cool,” Jisung slurred, leaning closer, his glasses fogging slightly. “Like, you’re all fancy and perfect, but you’re here, drinking shitty beer with me. It’s unreal.”

You laughed, shaking your head lightly.

“I’m not perfect, Jisung. Trust me.” you said, the words hitting even though you're drunk.

“You are,” he insisted, his voice soft, earnest. “You’re, like… you. I can’t explain it.”

Your cheeks burned as you said, “You’re not so bad yourself, you know.”

He gasped, clutching his chest.

“Are you flirting with me, Y/N?” He asked, and it’s so cheesy you burst out laughing, but god, you wanted to kiss him. You wanted to grab his stupid hoodie and pull him close until there was no space left between you.

Until you realize that you were sitting so close. So close that you were literally half on his lap. You didn’t know how you got there - maybe you tripped, maybe he pulled you, maybe the beer made you bold. Jisung’s hands hovered over your shoulders, like he was scared to touch you, his face flushed crimson under the fairy lights.

“Y/N,” he whispered, voice shaky, “is this-”

You didn't say anything. Just rested your head on his shoulder, your lips brushing the soft skin of his neck (accidentally, to be honest). He smelled like cheap cologne and something uniquely him, and it drove you wild. Your lips lingered, and you felt him tense beside. A soft whimper escaped him, barely audible, and it was the hottest thing you’ve ever heard.

You pressed closer, and he actually moaned, his hands finally settling on around your shoulder, gripping you tightly, like he was afraid you'd disappear.

You were drunk and dizzy, but at that very moment, you knew it - you were in love with Han Jisung. You didn't just want him or just crave - you loved him and his clumsy charm and geeky rants and his heart so big it spilled out of him.

But then, there was something gnawing at you from the inside. A sharp stab of realization that this was just so unfortunate. Because you were promised to someone else. Like a damn object. And it was so unfair.

Reality crashed in, cold and brutal. Minho, your almost-fiancé.

You froze, pulling back with a jerk, and Jisung gave you a confused look.

“Y/N?” he said, voice small, like he was scared he did something wrong.

“I…I can’t,” you stammered, sliding off the couch, away from his warmth, your heart pounding. “I’m sorry, Jisung. I… I have to go.”

His face fell, and it was like a knife to your chest. “Did I-?”

“No,” you said quickly, grabbing his hand. “It’s not you. It’s… complicated.”

You couldn’t explain it, not here, not now, not when you were still buzzing with alcohol and guilt and want. You squeezed his hand, then let go, standing on shaky legs.

“Y/N, wait -” he started, but you’re already moving, weaving through the crowd, your vision blurring with unshed tears. You didn’t look back. You couldn't. If you saw his face, you’d break, and you were already too close to shattering.

---

You stumbled outside, the cool night air hitting you like a slap. You leaned against a tree, catching your breath, and wiped at your eyes. A sob spilled from your lips, and at that exact moment, you heard Minho’s sharp voice, cutting through the haze like a blade.

“Y/N, what the hell?” Minho was striding toward you, his usual smug confidence replaced with something harder.

It looked a lot like annoyance, maybe, or something deeper. He stopped a few feet away, taking in your disheveled state - your flushed cheeks, the way you were clutching your arms like you’re holding yourself together.

“You’re wasted. What are you doing out here looking like… this?” he snapped and you bristled, straightening up despite the wobble in your legs.

“I’m fine,” you snapped back, though your slurred words betrayed you. “Just needed air.”

“Air?” He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as he scanned you. “You look like you just stumbled out of a bar fight. This isn’t you, Y/N. Getting drunk at some shitty party? What’s gotten into you?”

His tone - condescending, scolding - lights a fuse you didn’t know was burning. You were so fucking tired of it. The expectations, the control, the way everyone assumed that they could dictate your life.

Jisung’s face flashed in your mind - his soft shy smile and his hurt face from a few minutes ago, and it was like a dam breaking inside you. You pushed off the wall, swaying slightly, and pointed a finger at him.

“Tell me this, Minho. Why do you want to marry me?”

He froze, his expression shifting from annoyance to incredulity.

“What?” He laughed, short and disbelieving, like you just asked him why the sky was blue. “What’s the matter with you? You’re drunk and talking nonsense.”

“I’m serious,” you said, your voice rising, unsteady but fierce.

You took a step closer, your eyes locked with his.

“Why do you want to marry me? Because our parents decided it? Because it’s good for business? Tell me, Minho. Why?”

He faltered, his smirk slipping, and for the first time, you saw uncertainty flicker in his eyes. He opened his mouth, then closed it, like he was searching for the right words and coming up empty.

“Y/N, come on,” he said finally, his voice softer. “You know why. We’re good together. We make sense. Our families -”

“That’s not an answer!” you cut him off, your hands balling into fists.

The alcohol made you bold, reckless, and you couldn't stop now.

“I don’t want to be a puppet, Minho. I don’t want to be some trophy wife you control, some box you check off for your perfect life. I’m not a thing you get to own.” you cried, and his face crumpled as the tears flowed freely down yours.

He stepped closer, his voice low, almost pleading.

“You think I see you like that? A puppet? Y/N, I -” He stopped, running a hand through his hair, his composure cracking. “I’ve known you forever. I thought… I thought you wanted this too.”

His words hit harder than you expected, a pang of guilt slicing through your anger. For a moment, you saw the Minho you grew up with. The one who snuck you extra dessert at boring dinners, who teased you but never let anyone else cross you.

But it wasn't enough. Not when your heart was screaming for someone else. And it hurt more because you'd promised yourself to quietly go ahead with the engagement and the wedding if Minho told you that he loved you. You obviously would have, considering the fact that you've known him your whole life, and you would never break his heart. But now, you wanted to scream.

“It’s not fair,” you said, your voice breaking. “It’s not fair that I don’t get a say. I don’t want this, Minho. I don’t -”

The words spilled out before you could stop them - sharp and final, and you saw the hurt flash across his face, his eyes widening like you’ve slapped him.

“Y/N…” he was reaching for you, but you stepped back, shaking your head.

You turned and ran, stumbling toward the street. You heard him call your name, his voice raw, but you didn’t look back. The party’s noise faded, replaced by the thud of your pulse and the burn of your tears.

You hated this. Hated yourself, hated the stupid plan that chained you to a life you don’t want.

The morning came with a headache that was literally tearing your head apart. And the weight of last night’s drunken outburst crushed you.

What was worse, Minho didn’t show up to class, and it was unheard of for someone as annoyingly perfect as he was. You panicked all through the day, and felt too scared to text or call him.

The memory of his hurt expression, the way you ran off after shredding your almost-engagement, kept replaying like a bad movie in your brain. So, here you were, standing outside his door with a peace offering: his favorite black forest cake from that overpriced bakery he loved and a large iced Americano, just how he liked it.

You knocked with your heart in your throat, half-expecting him to slam the door in your face. But when he opened it, you almost dropped the cake. Minho’s usually sharp eyes were dull, his hair was a mess. And he was in a rumpled T-shirt and sweatpants, like he hadn't slept at all. It totally broke your heart because you've never seen him like this and you had no one but yourself to blame for this.

He sighed, long and heavy, when he saw you.

“Y/N,” he said, voice flat, but his gaze flicks to the cake and coffee.

He stepped aside, taking the offerings without a word, and let you in. No snarky comment, no smirk. Just silence. That was scarier than any lecture he could’ve given you.

You hovered by the door as he shuffled to his bed, flopping onto it with the cake box and coffee in hand (picking up a fork from the little kitchen on his way). He popped open the box and started eating, not even looking at you.

The silence was deafening, and you felt like an idiot, standing there like a statue in your pristine sweater and skirt.

He finally glanced up, mid-bite, and raised an eyebrow.

“You coming in to share this or are you leaving?” His voice was tired, like he’s too drained to care.

You hesitated, then nodded, kicking off your shoes and climbing onto his bed, and cuddling up beside him like you always did. The familiarity of being in his space made your throat tight.

You curled up closer, tucking your legs under you, and whispered, “I’m sorry, Minho.”

He didn’t say anything, just took another bite of cake, the fork scraping softly against the box. The silence stretched, heavy and awkward, until he set the cake on his lap and looked at you, his eyes searching.

“Who is it?” he asked quietly, no venom, just curiosity tinged with something resigned. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

You froze, your heart slamming against your ribs. You weren’t ready for this. Not now, not here, not with him looking at you like he already knew the answer and just needed to hear it.

“I…” you started, but the words stuck, your mouth dry.

He tilted his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“Come on, Y/N. I have known you from when we were in diapers. I know this isn't some random impulsive thing. Who’s got you throwing away our whole… whatever this is?”

His voice was steady, but there was a crack in it, a hint of the hurt you saw last night.

You swallowed, your hands trembling in your lap. If there was one thing you could never do, that would be lying to Minho. So you just told him the truth.

“Han Jisung,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Minho blinked, then leaned back against the headboard, staring at the ceiling. For a moment, he was silent, and you were bracing for anger, for a fight. Or tears even. But then he started laughing. A loud, almost manic laugh that filled the room, like he was possessed.

You scowled, offended. “What’s so funny?”

“Sorry, sorry,” he gasped, wiping his eyes as he tried to catch his breath. He looked at you, still chuckling, and shook his head.

“Really? Geeky is your thing? Han Jisung? The guy who trips over his own backpack and talks to his laptop like it’s his girlfriend?” he laughed and you huffed, shoving him.

“Shut up! He’s not like that!” you argued.

Okay, maybe he was, but it’s cute, and Minho's laugh pissed you off. You cross your arms, sulking.

“He’s… he’s sweet. And smart. And -”

“Okay, okay,” Minho said, holding up his hands in surrender, still grinning. “I get it. You’re into the hot loser vibe. No judgment.”

His smile faded, and he leaned forward, his expression softening.

“It's a relief you left me for love and not for someone richer. So…there’s no use of me fighting him, is there? You’re set on Jisung?” he said, and you nodded, your throat tight.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “I think I am.”

He exhaled, long and slow, and looked down at the cake, poking at it with the fork.

“Have you told him?” He asked.

“No.” You said, sighing. “Not without talking to you first.”

“Ok.”

“I’m so sorry, Minho,” you said, reaching for his hand, squeezing it, desperate for him to understand. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just… I can’t keep pretending this is what I want. It’s not fair to you either.”

He looked at you, and for a moment, you saw the Minho who has been your closest friend for years.

“It’s okay,” he says finally, his voice soft. “Thanks for being honest.”

You didn’t know what possessed you - guilt, affection, the need to hold onto something familiar, because you wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug. He stiffened for a second, then relaxed, his arms looping around you tight. You buried your face in his shoulder, the scent of his cologne grounding you even as your heart aches.

He chuckled, the sound rumbling against your chest. “Babe, are you breaking up with me or trying to start something here? Mixed signals much?”

You pulled back, flustered, and shoved him lightly.

“Minho!” you squeaked, your face burning hot.

He laughed again, softer this time, and ruffled your hair, the gesture so familiar it hurt.

“You’re a mess, Y/N,” he said, but there was no malice in it, just sad fondness. “Go figure your shit out with Jisung. But if he breaks your heart, I’m not buying you cake to cry over him.”

---

The days that followed your break up (can you even call it that), your mother has been driving you up the wall with her dramatic crying and angry screeching and lectures.

It had become a daily ritual. Waking up to her scolding you and threatening to disown you. And then begging you to get back together with Minho. When you tell her you were never actually together in the first place, she flipped again. And it was all a loop.

You were not sorry for choosing yourself, for wanting Jisung, but the weight of your family’s disappointment was suffocating.

You spent the mornings venting, Minho listening and cracking jokes to lighten your mood. It was funny how much better your relationship with Minho was, now that you two were just friends. In the evening, he would order takeout, and you would end up cross-legged on his floor, eating dumplings and laughing at his stupid jokes.

It was the only thing helping you forget about your mother, the company, and the mess you’ve made.

---

But across campus, Jisung wasn't laughing. In fact Jisung was a walking tragedy, and he was leaning into it hard. In the days since the party, he had transformed into a melodramatic shadow of himself, moping around campus in his heartbreak.

He was in your shared Comp Sci class, slouched in the back row, his hoodie pulled up and completely heart broken. He had watched you leave the party in tears and arguing with Minho. And now he has been seeing you and Minho together, walking across the quad, you leaning into Minho’s side, lost in conversation, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

To Jisung, it looked like you were something, like the party was a drunken mistake, and it’s eating him alive.

He was quiet in class, not his usual fidgety, joke-cracking self. When you tried to catch his eye, he ducked his head, pretending to focus on his laptop. You wanted to talk to him, to explain, but every time you got close, your nerves betrayed you.

What if he didn’t feel the same? What if he thought you were just some rich girl playing with his feelings?

The jealousy festered over the next few days. Jisung saw you and Minho at the campus coffee shop, your head on Minho’s shoulder as he scrolled through his phone.

He slumped over his tray, poking at a sad pile of fries, muttering to his roommate, “What’s the point of life when you’re just the guy who gets kissed and ditched?”

His roommate sighed, used to the theatrics, and slid him a soda, but Jisung just stared at it like it betrayed him too.

Then he saw Minho sling an arm around you at the library. This was proof enough for Jisung - you were Minho’s, always have been, and whatever happened at the party was a fluke.

His chest ached with it, a mix of longing and hurt that he buried under late-night coding sessions and too-loud music.

You noticed Jisung pulling away - if ever you caught his attention, his smiles were forced, his eyes avoiding yours. It hurt more than you expected, especially after the party, when you felt so sure he wanted you too. You were so in love with him, but the chaos with your family and Minho’s constant presence made it impossible to bridge the gap.

---

You’ve been psyching yourself up for this all day. Your mother’s morning tirade still rang in your ears - another lecture about ruining the family legacy by ditching Minho. But you were done letting her control you. You were here for Jisung, to clear the air, to tell him how you felt.

You knocked on his door, clutching your bag like a shield. When Jisung opened it, he looked like he'd been through a war with his own brain. He froze, one hand gripping the doorknob.

“Y/N?” he said. “What, uh, what are you doing here?”

But he stepped back, letting you in. You stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind you, and the air felt charged, like you were both standing on the edge of something big.

“I need to talk to you,” you said, trying to sound calm, but your voice wavered. “About the party. And… other stuff.”

Jisung’s face paled, then flushed red, and he started pacing, his hands flailing.

“The party? Oh, you mean the party where you…where you kissed my neck?” He pointed dramatically to the spot on his neck, where your lips had been, his finger jabbing like he was marking a crime scene. “Right here, Y/N! You did that, and I was, like, losing my mind, and then you just bolted! And now you’re, what, playing house with Minho? I see you two everywhere! Laughing, cuddling, sharing coffee like you’re married or something! What am I supposed to think? That I’m just some drunk mistake you made for fun?”

His words spilled out in a torrent, his voice rising with every sentence, and he wasn’t even looking at you now, just ranting to the air, gesturing wildly.

“I mean, I’m not an idiot, okay? I know I’m not, like, Minho. He’s all cool and rich, but I thought - god, I thought maybe you liked me, you know? Because you kissed me! Here!” He pointed to his neck again, his cheeks flaming. “And now you’re back with him, and I’m just the nerd who got too excited over nothing, and -”

“Jisung!” you tried to cut in, but he was on a roll, pacing faster, his glasses slipping down his nose.

“- and it’s fine, really, I get it! You’re you, and I’m me, and we’re not even in the same universe, but it hurt, Y/N, because I’ve been crushing on you since, like, the first day of class when you asked me for a pen, and I gave you my favorite one, and you never gave it back, by the way, but that’s not the point! The point is, you can’t just go around kissing people’s necks and then -”

You couldn’t take it anymore. He wasn't shutting up, and every word was like a knife, twisting your guilt and frustration tighter. So you did the only thing you could think of - you grabbed the front of his T-shirt, and kissed him.

It wasn't not gentle. It was desperate and messy, your lips crashing against his to silence his rant. Jisung froze, his hands hovering mid-gesture, and for a second, you thought you'd broken him. Then he melted, a soft, surprised whimper escaping his throat as he kissed you back, his hands gripping your waist like he was afraid you’ll vanish. His lips were warm, a little chapped, but absolutely perfect. Your heart pounded, hands sliding up to cup his face, and you poured everything into the kiss - every apology, every feeling you’ve been too scared to say.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were panting, and his eyes wide, like he’s just seen a miracle.

“W-what… what was that?” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

You were still catching your breath, your forehead resting against his.

“That,” you said, “was me shutting you up because you wouldn’t listen.”

You stepped back slightly, but kept your hands on his shoulders, grounding yourself.

“Jisung, I’m not with Minho. We’re not together. We never really were…not like that. It was… arranged, by our parents, and I broke it off. He’s just my friend now. A really good one, but that’s it.” you said, and Jisung blinked, processing, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“Wait, so… you’re not… with him?” His voice was small, hopeful, but still wary.

“No,” you said firmly, your thumb brushing his cheek, and he leans into it, almost unconsciously. “I’m not. I broke it off with him, because I love you, Jisung. A lot. And I’ve been trying to tell you, but you keep avoiding me, and I thought maybe you didn’t feel the same -”

“Feel the same?” he interrupted, his voice rising again, but this time it was laced with disbelief. “Y/N, I’ve been in love with you since you stole my pen! I was losing my mind at that party, thinking you’d just…ugh, I’m such an idiot!”

He groaned, tipping his head back, but his hands tightened on your waist, pulling you closer. You laughed, the sound shaky with relief, and leaned into him, your arms looping around his neck.

“You’re not an idiot. Well, maybe a little. But a cute one.” You bit your lip, your heart racing. “So… you like me too, then?”

He stared at you like you’ve grown a second head.

“Like you? Y/N, I’m obsessed with you. My roommate’s ready to kick me out because I won’t shut up about you,”

He cut himself off, blushing furiously, and you couldn’t help it - you kissed him again, softer this time, but just as needy.

He moaned into it, a low, soft sound that sent heat curling through you, and you’re both stumbling back until you hit his bed, collapsing onto it in a tangle of limbs. His hands roamed your back, and the kiss deepened, all tongue and need, until you’re both gasping.

“Okay,” he panted, “so we’re… we’re doing this?”

“Yeah,”

“For real?”

“For real.”

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @hwangjoanna @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @chancloud8 @captainchrisstan @hansmic @emilyywhyy @inlovewithstraykids @my-neurodivergent-world @nightmarenyxx @channie4lifeee143127 @lezleeferguson-120 @silly250 @pansexual-and-eating-pancakes

#stray kids #skz #han jisung x reader #han x reader #han x you #han x y/n #han fluff #han jisung fluff #skz fluff #skz x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids x reader

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happy74827 · 11 months ago

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Real Life Fairytale

[Robby Keene x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: You tried so hard not to be that girl, but the more you were around him, the more you were convinced clichés could be a good thing.

WC: 712

Category: Fluff, First Kiss

Since Cobra Kai coming back later this month, here’s some fluff with the Marty Mcfly of karate.

『••✎••』

It was a typical cliché, and as much as you hated it, there was something that still pulled at you. Something that pulled you right into the arms of none other than Robby Keene.

Your relationship had been rocky at best; it had started out with him pickpocketing your purse and the two of you becoming friends because, at the time, you believed he was simply returning what you lost.

Of course, when your friendship officially became a friendship, he told you the truth and apologized. LaRusso had offered him a job, and everything he did suddenly became about changing his life and earning his place. He wanted to prove to his father that he was more than just some punk-ass kid from the wrong side of the tracks.

So, how did that bring you to where you are now? How did a guy like Robby Keene, dressed up in Marty McFly attire, become the center of your universe?

The Halloween Bash, of course.

Originally, the entire group of friends, the past feud between Robby and Miguel, had long been forgotten, so they decided to do one big group costume. Demetri thought it would be a good idea to go with the Power Rangers, which was fine, except for the fact that Eli was the only one who actually wanted to be a Ranger. Everyone else was either not impressed or completely clueless about who they were.

In the end, the group split off into their own individual costumes, and that's how you ended up with your favorite movie being used as the basis for your outfits.

It took a lot of convincing on your part. I mean, the dude looked practically identical to the real actor; he was the obvious choice. Throw a Walkman on him, and boom, the costume is perfect.

He blamed it on the hair, which it technically was. Ever since he ditched Dora's cut with Diego, he just became that geeky kid who freaked at the word 'chicken.'

And in all honesty, you truly believed he hated that word, too. Eli said it to bait him once, and he did not go down easily.

It only took you an hour to convince him, but after a while, he relented, and the costume was finalized.

So, obviously, when the two of you walked in with swag that only the 80s could pull off, you stayed for about an hour before Robby got bored and decided ice cream was the cure.

Now, the two of you were sitting on the steps of an apartment building, eating a gallon of ice cream and talking.

You swear, you didn't mean for it to happen, but the way he looked at you with those soft, blue eyes and the smile that could make a nun blush, you found yourself leaning closer.

"I had fun," he spoke quietly, his words dancing over your lips. "Even if I do look ridiculous."

You giggled. "Well, isn't that why we have Halloween? To look ridiculous?"

He shrugged and leaned closer, his eyes searching yours.

"You don't look ridiculous, though," you continued. "I think you look pretty good in a life preserver."

He grinned. "Yeah?"

It was something about the way he said that. The way you could hear the smile in his voice, but most of all, the way he looked at you when he said it. Like he was looking for permission to continue with what was already happening.

So, you answered by leaning in, connecting your lips with his, and giving him all the permission he needed.

His hands instantly flew to your hips, tugging you closer, and you found your own hands wrapping around his neck, deepening the kiss.

It was perfect, just like the movies. You regretted dressing up as Doc Brown, though. Not only was the radiation suit itchy, but you were acting like Jennifer Parker, and you didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Still, with the white hair off and his headphones finding their home around his neck, you figured maybe you'd force him to keep that part of the costume because, the way he was looking at you, you didn't want it to end.

You were sure it wouldn't, not any time soon.

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sjyuns · 7 months ago

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NO DOUBT、I LOVE YOU! — ENHYPEN MEMBERS TELLING YOU THAT YOU’RE THE ONE!

hyung line!enhypen x fem reader 1000+ words warning kissing pet names jealousy drinking genre fluff, slightly suggestive mikaela’s note happy comeback! i jumped the moment niki sang the chorus. i got carried away as the members progress haha (jake i want you so bad) | collection

LEE HEESEUNG

The unfamiliar feeling of deep green envy bubbles up your chest and straight into your heart as you stare at your boyfriend — who’s familiar lean figure is nestled between Jay and another girl you’ve yet to get to know. And yet here you are by yourself, swept in coldness by the absence of your boyfriend by your side.

It was the first time you and Heeseung had argued since you got together five months ago — a rather long honeymoon phase. Your teeth gnaw fervently on your lips in slight panic, eyes glued on your boyfriend’s figure, overall too consumed with jealousy to notice his lack of comfort.

Even though Heeseung sits squished between two people, the lack of you makes his heart feel cold. And he notices the way your tongue sweeps over your lips, eyes darting away every time your gaze catches his. It’s too cute the way you’re obviously jealous.

“You jealous, baby?” Heeseung whispers, as he pulls you into an empty room, leaving his friend behind, “no need to be, you’re the only one that I want.”

Your lips part ever so slightly at the sudden confession, and Heeseung takes the chance to pull you in, placing his lips on your pillowy ones — slightly swollen from the constant biting. And the ever familiar feeling of his warmth returns back to your heart where it belongs.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, head dipped down,“I should have listened to you first before jumping into conclusions.” Soft fingertips dance against the skin of your chin as he lifts your head up to kiss you yet again. “I’m sorry baby, I should’ve told you before.”

“I love you.”

PARK JONGSEONG

Your footsteps are hurried as you rush into the nearby pub, eyes scanning around for your boyfriend, only to find him slumped in a corner — eyes half opened, slick backed hair with strands poking out, and tie half undone. His head drooping side to side as his mouth muttered incoherently.

“Thanks for coming, he wouldn’t stop blabbering about you,” Jake said, moving over to give you space to sit next to Jay. He opens his eyes at the arrival of a new touch, cheeks flushed a shade or coral red and eyes glimmering at the sight of you.

“Love,” he speaks out, face housing an uncontrollable, geeky grin as he stares into you, and your heart pumps irregularly in the name of love. “I love you,” he says, fingers tracing your features from your eyes to your lips — and it’s almost like he’s casting a spell the way his touch is so gently intricate.

“I love you, love,” this time he says it more firmly, as if it was a proven fact, something he had known for a long time. And you stare at him, entranced at his very rawness of love, smiling goofily at a side of your boyfriend you don’t see too often.

“Are you not going to say it back?” He frowns, eyebrows furrowed as strands of hair fall back onto his sweaty forehead.

“I love you too.”

SIM JAEYUN

You absolutely regret introducing your friends to Sim Jaeyun with the way they’re clamouring around him, eager to get to know him more — as if you weren’t the one to know him first. His signature styled hair and thick black rimmed glasses that sit perfectly on his nose — the very features that lured you in once now irked you to your very core.

“Where did you get the hot nerd from,” your friend squeals, “can you link me up with him? Heard he’s single.” Your jaw clenches, lips tightly shut as you give her a small smile. Your heart eager to correct her yet your mind telling you to slow down, that you and Jake were nothing other than just friends.

“Sorry, think you heard wrong,” an arm swings over your shoulder, pulling your body closer to his, “this one’s got me.” The deep aussie accent puts you into a daze once again as your head swivels over to look at Jake, lips brushing against his face from the lack of space between the two of you.

“Isn’t that right, princess?” He asks, a mischievous glint in his eye. And all you can do is nod as she leaves the both of you alone.

“Jake? We aren’t in a relationship,” you state, head tilted slightly. And Sim Jaeyun has never seen someone as adorable as you look right now.

“Now that everyone thinks we are, we might as well right?” The cheeky glint in his eyes never leaving as his fingers move to tuck strands of hairs behind your ear, eyes darting from your lips to your eyes and back before moving closer to press his lips onto yours.

“Now that you’ve kissed me, i’m yours forever baby.”

PARK SUNGHOON

Being roommates with the devil’s incarnate might be the harder thing on earth, not to mention how insanely hot he is. The underlying tension and long gazes at each other makes it hard to breathe even in the familiarity of your own house. He invades all your senses — from simple habits of walking around topless to his teasing comments that leave you flustered.

“Leaving so soon?” Sunghoon questions as he steps into the kitchen with you, away from the dining room full of his friends. “Don’t like me that much?” He grins, sharp canine fangs on display.

“Yeah that, and also i’m tired,” you answer back, holding back a yawn of your own. Sunghoon feels his heart sink slightly at the thought of your absence in tonight’s round of gaming — the smile you have when he lets you win. “I’m going to bed now,” you tell him, turning your back around.

“Where’s my goodnight kiss,” he jokes, leaning over the counter, lean muscles on full display under the tank he’s donned. You turn back, face red and flustered at the sudden direct comment — you’ve always thought that Sunghoon was good looking, yet you’ve never really made a move given your relationship as roommates.

“I’m not giving you a goodnight kiss, Hoon,” you lament, tossing the idea of him flirting with you out of your mind. “So you want me to give you a goodnight kiss?” Sunghoon asks, his tone void of any mischief, as his eyes stare into yours with some kind of want.

And suddenly it’s quiet, the muffled laughter from the dining room gone, leaving the two of you in serene tension. Sunghoon’s ring clad fingers dancing against the slight revelation of your waist, cold metal a stark contrast to the warmth between you two.

He bends down to kiss you, and it isn’t a short one off peck — it’s raw and passionate, as if he’s wanted this all his life. And when it finally breaks off, the two of you are left gasping for air.

“I like you,” he says, breathless, “actually I think i might be in love with you.”

This time you pull him into you.

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chogiwow · 3 months ago

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the law of unintended consequences. | jake sim

... posits, that actions often have unforeseen and unanticipated effects, which may be positive, negative, or neutral, that are not part of the actor's original intent.

pairing: astrophysicist jake x assistant reader

genre: angst, fluff

au: clumsy assistant x oblivious genius

wc: part 1 - 20k | part 2 - 17.3k | part 3 - 21.2k | part 4 - 26.3k

a/n: had to do sumn sciency geeky for my boyyy. btw ion know shit about galaxies and space and all that, i’m googling my way through this pls be kind ;-;

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 (complete.)

jake sim is a genius. a literal, world-altering, lab-coated prodigy whose brain works at speeds the average person can’t even comprehend.

he is also, unfortunately, a menace to basic workplace efficiency.

you’ve learned this the hard way.

because for all his brilliance, jake has zero awareness of his surroundings. he’ll abandon pens in entirely different departments, walk off mid-sentence because he’s already three equations ahead in his mind, and somehow exist in a state of constant near-calamity – like a human science experiment teetering on the edge of disaster.

which is where you come in.

you, the assistant who keeps his world running. the one who reminds him to eat. the one who nudges a coffee into his hands before he even realizes he needs it. the one who subtly rearranges his misplaced files, retrieves his lost stationery, and – on more than one occasion – has saved his life by yanking him out of the way of an incoming cart of hazardous materials.

you do all of this seamlessly. efficiently. and completely unnoticed.

because jake sim doesn’t know your name.

not really.

you’re just the person who hands him reports and dodges his absentminded shoulder bumps in the hallway. the one he thanks without looking up, too engrossed in his work to register you as anything more than background noise.

which is why the little things don’t make sense.

like the elevator doors opening just when you needed them. like the pens you leave for him somehow finding their way back to your desk.

like the strip of foam padding that appeared overnight on the sharp-edged desk you walked into yesterday, placed so precisely, so intentionally, that you’d think someone had been tracking your movement patterns.

and later, when you catch jake in the break room, frowning in concentration as he absentmindedly presses the foam with his fingertips – testing its durability, like it’s some great scientific mystery – before walking off without a word…

you don’t know what to make of it.

maybe it’s nothing. maybe he’s just kind. maybe this is how geniuses operate – solving problems without realizing the impact of their solutions.

or maybe – just maybe – this is how it starts.

the law of unintended consequences.

because jay had said it once, smug and certain:

"make yourself less available. make him notice the gaps."

and as you run your fingers over the foam padding, you wonder—

if jake sim, in all his effortless brilliance, has finally noticed the empty spaces you left behind.

#enhypen imagines #enhypen jake imagines #jake sim imagines #jake enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen x you #jake sim angst #enhypen angst #law of unintended consequences #masterlist

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augustsblossom · 1 month ago

Note

Hiii 👋🩷 I would like to request a Mark Grayson fic where he’s like unnaturally warm because he’s half viltrimite and he uses his hands as like a heating pad for reader who is suffering from cramps

Just like super fluffy cuddles and sweetness

Take your time bestie and thank you for writing for this fandom 🩷🩷🩷 (there really aren’t enough Mark fics😭😭😭) 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

THIS IS SO CUTE STOOOPP AND thank you so much!! There fr isn’t enough so I’m rolling up my sleeve and getting to work

── ── ── ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ── ── ──

˚ ༘ *ೃ⁀➷ main! Mark Grayson x afab! reader

˚ ༘ *ೃ⁀➷ a/n: I appreciate the requests you guys have been sending me! This is very self insert lowkey so if you don’t like horror movies or pumpkin scents just imagine what you do like! This also is in NO WAY reader intentionally being a bitch to the sweet boy like I said I’m projecting and I get snappy when I’m on mine </33 inbox me if you guys have ideas ily! <3

˚ ༘ *ೃ⁀➷ CW: fluff!!!, She/her pronouns aren’t used but reader does get periods lol, reader is cranky when they’re menstruating (I’m self projecting), mark just puts his hands on readers lower stomach, mark is very patient and reader feels bad lolol

˚ ༘ *ೃ⁀➷ IMPORTANT: constructive criticism is encouraged! I’m always looking to make my fics better or to make it more enjoyable for you guys so if there’s anything I can do or fix, comment or inbox me! I want to make it as best as I can for yall <3 it’s also not proofread again I’m hoping you guys can uncode what it means

˚ ༘ *ೃ⁀➷ taglist: @realmcflurry1 (lmk if you wanna be in the next one!)

── ── ── ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ── ── ──

So like, imagine a semi full of bricks coming at you full speed right, but instead of crashing normally it crashes RIGHT into your lower stomach and puts it all there

Oh and with that imagine a doctor has a handful of needles and they just shove it all in your uterus…

Yeah you are DONE FOR BABEEE

But hey at least you have your super sweet geeky boyfriend to help with that right!!

It’s hard for him to be a superhero but it’s hard when you don’t have your boyfriend around!

Cecil has him working to the damn BONE and he will not give that poor boy a break!

So of course you feel bad when you start having an attitude and getting snappy at him, but no one blames you for it you’re in so much pain!!!

Mark finally had a day off where he didn’t need to be “invincible” for a day, you loved it so much but you hated it landed on a day your period started

Those cramps were KILLING you and they hit like a damn lightning drop ok it was horrid but Mark was there for you!

He recently just got back from a store trip you asked him to make, getting you chocolates, chips tampons and pads (he made the “what size pussy you wear 😂” joke and you didn’t laugh so he apologized and said it was cringe, you’re never forgetting it)

He walked in your shared room with the bags in hand a warm smile on his face

“Hey pretty” Mark says softly, sitting the bag on the bed and kissing your forehead as you’re curled up with the blanket covering to your nose

You open your eyes slowly and look at him

“Hi.” You said shortly, kind of side eyeing him but like not in a trying to in a bitchy way you’re just in pain yknow?

Anyways, he gave you a bit of a confused look then left to change into a shirt and sweats. He came back shortly and laid in bed next you

“Wanna watch something? Netflix added new horror movies!” He said with enthusiasm

“I don’t care, we can watch whatever.” You say shortly again.

Good god the patience that man had for you was INSANNEEEE. He would never be this patient with anyone else, especially Cecil and even sometimes Debbie, but he had so much for you, you just felt terrible.

He softly said okay and put on your favorite. After laying in silence for a moment, your back was still facing him when you asked

“Mark…”

“What’s up?”

“….do you hate me even though I was being mean”

Marks brows furrowed as he looked towards you

“Huh?”

You turn to look at him with literally the puppy dog looking eyes and a frown on your face

“I’m sorry. I was being so mean I just don’t feel well and everything hurts so bad and it’s not your fault and I love you so much and never want you to leave me I hate being mean I’m so-“

Okay babe you can shut the fuck up now he gets it.

He let out a giggle, pulling you closer to him and pepper kissing your face

“I understand, you don’t have to explain yourself. I can’t imagine how bad THAT kind of pain is but I don’t blame you at all for it. I also can never hate you, you’re too cute for that” he pepper kisses again

After your little giggle sesh he pulled you even closer so you were caged in, your face against his chest

“If you’d like I can help you with those cramps”

You nod slowly and he turns your entire body so now your back is facing him. He pulled you closer and wrapped his arms around you with one hand on your stomach and the other right above it

His hands were…unnaturally warm. I mean as half-Viltriumite you kinda get that but you loved when he used his powers not only for fighting enemies

The sudden warmth on your stomach made you comfortable, and it was a plus that Mark was cuddling with you too, so forget that heating pad! You have a Mark!

Mark fell asleep first (of course) and you followed shortly after. The burning pumpkin candle blew out on its own after a while, and the movies end credits rolled. The sun was setting and temperature of the room plus you and Mark made everything perfect

Mark does make the doomed week truly better.

#invincible #invincible x reader #invincible smut #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson smut #mark grayson

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gabbytvclarke · 4 months ago

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The dog and the postwoman PART FOUR: Strawberries and Syrup

Part one here! ♥ Part two here! ♥ Part three here! ♥ Part five here!

• Summary: Arthur invites the reader back to his flat for the night while his flatmates are out... • Pairing: Arthur TV x female!reader (Also friend!George Clarke and friend!Arthur Hill) • Fluff, and slow burn SMUT • Warnings: alcohol, swearing, innuendoes, and (sober!!!) sex • Word count: 6,326 words • Note: Reader is on the pill • Note 2: I'm sorry for the middle pic

♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥

“My… my roommates are out of town too, so it would be just us.” He shyly adds, peering down at her with darkened eyes. Interesting.

She cocks her head, a mischievous smile tugs at her lips. "Arthur, what are you implying?" She jabs.

"Oh, um, it doesn't have to mean anything if you don't want it to..." Arthur replies sheepishly, sweat forming at the back of his neck.

"I'm kidding Arthur," she giggles, shaking her head at him, "I'm excited for some y/nTV, regardless of what we do."

"Oh." Arthur lets out the breath he was holding, his fingers still intertwined with hers as they continue walking to his.

"You do have a spare toothbrush and a shower in your hobbit hut, right?" She jokes.

———

"Sorry about the mess." Arthur mumbles as he closes the door behind her. She looks around his home and it's completely... spotless. She gently kicks off her shoes and tries to give Arthur his hoodie back, but he shakes his head and holds up his hand to stop her. "You can borrow that, looks good on you." He says with a warm smile. She giggles out a thank you and folds it on top of her shoes.

"You want another glass of water?" Arthur asks, it then dawns on him that he's never hung out with y/n alone before, outside of a discord call and digital cubic houses anyway. Luckily, he's too drunk for his nerves to completely engulf him.

"Yes please," y/n replies as she makes her way to the lounge area. She tests out which seat is the comfiest and figures it's the larger sofa. Arthur enters with two glasses of water. "Let me know if you want to order food too, I think a few places are still open." He offers kindly.

"Maybe later, I'd like a tour of your home first." She states with a smile. Arthur leads her around the flat. It's a nice place, and y/n can tell he lives with two other women, who she kind of knows through social media. His bedroom is her favourite. It's the perfect mixture of geeky, cozy, and neat. Not as many books as his video backdrop would suggest however.

Arthur stands beside his bed, suddenly feeling heated at the idea of messing up his neat sheets with y/n, but he remains stoic. "Oh!" He lets out, reaching into his drawers and grabbing one of his baggy T shirts and passing it to y/n. "You can change into something comfier if you'd like. I can wait in the lounge." He chirps as he also grabs her some spare pyjama bottoms and socks.

"Thank you Arth." She beams at him as he scurries out the room. She giggles to herself at his wholesomeness; inviting a girl back to his place and then letting her get dressed in privacy. That's Arthur.

He scrolls through Youtube on his TV, looking for something to watch. A more sober Arthur would've cleared his watch history so his homepage isn't flooded with recommendations for y/n's videos. When she enters the room, Arthur can't help himself.

"Y/n, you look adorable!" He calls out to her, smiling from ear to ear. His clothes fit her in such a flattering way. She looks so snug. Plopping down right next to him, she takes a couple sips of water and looks at his huge TV screen with wide eyes. He wonders if she'll make a jab about his video recommendations. "Oh god, I'll watch anything but my own videos!" is all she has to say while laughing. He adores her humbleness as it shimmers once again.

They settle on a video about ghost sightings. Arthur excuses himself to grab a blanket, returning in loungewear as he turns the lights down to add to the ambiance. He looks incredible, his hair extra messing from changing, a baggy black tee and some grey joggers. Does he know what he's doing? He sits next to y/n and instinctively puts an arm around her. The video seems a little lame at first, but the jump scares get the pair really spooked. "That really got you didn't it?" Arthur teases, his voice low and his breath fanning her face. He pulls her even closer to him, "C'mere, I've got you."

It feels right, comfortable. They lean against each other, not uttering a word as they continue watching. Arthur's hand rests on y/n's thigh, just above her knee. Her heartbeat was already rapid before, but it races even further. Arthur starts talking her ear off about his view on ghosts, which she listens to contently, the audio from the TV fading from her focus.

"Oh, the video's finished." Arthur realises midway through a sentence. Ironically, the ChrisMD video they both had starred in is queued up on the autoplay list and they let it load.

"Hm, let's see what the most replayed moments are, shall we?" Arthur says with a smirk, scrolling along and pausing at the spikes. Every moment is when they were both on screen, except for one; when Chip fell over. It's as if Arthur already knew, y/n did not. She sits next to him dumbfounded, her mouth open but curved up at the corners. "If you think that's crazy, now let's read some more comments" Arthur giggles.

"No Arthur, I can't..." Y/n groans as she hides her face in her hands. With one hand pointing the remote at the TV, he scrolls down to the comments so they're in big bold letters. With his spare hand, he pulls y/n's hands away from her shy smile. "Look, look: 'Arthur and y/n keep exchanging glances'!" He reads with a smirk.

"Stop it Arthur!" She chortles, her face burning as she covers her eyes.

But he doesn't: "'O-M-G get y/n and Arthur on more stuff together'"

"Arthur!" She leans over and tries to take the remote. Despite her best efforts, he pulls it further away from her reach, holding it behind him. "Oh this one's great: 'Look at at that eye contact, the tension is crazy'!" His giggles continue as his pitch and volume increase.

Tears are nearly forming in her eyes from laughing so much, she starts trying to climb over Arthur as he falls onto his back on the sofa. She crawls halfway over him and grabs hold of the remote, pinning his hand above his head. Their laughter dies down fast when they realise how intimately close they are; Arthur laying on his back with his legs apart, y/n with one knee resting in between his legs and the other to the right of his body; their faces mere inches from each other.

They exchange a look of intrigue and desire. One of them needs to say something, or do something. Arthur's free hand reaches up to hold her waist. Y/n looks to his lips then straight back into his eyes. "They're right about that tension." She jokes quietly, though her face serious as her eyes darken, watching his pupils dilate.

"Yeah." Arthur whispers, barely audible. His near black eyes focus on her lips. Illuminated by the red glow from the TV, they both slowly lean in until they meet halfway. Their kisses start as small pecks but become something more desperate. He lets out a sigh that fans her face and she smells the Southern Comfort on his breath.

She pulls away. "Arthur... wait." He stops immediately, his hand dropping as he looks intensely up at her, anxiety creeping across his face.

"Is everything OK?" He pants.

"Everything is more than OK," she whispers, equally breathless, "I really want this, but we're drunk. You especially."

Arthur nods slowly. She moves back to sitting next to him hesitantly and intrusively worries that he'll want her to leave, or lose interest in her.

"I'm definitely more sober than you and I really don't want to take advantage," she continues, she gazes into his eyes with genuine care, "can we put a pin in this for now?"

She awaits a response from Arthur, he slowly sits up too.

"You are completely right." He chuckles shyly, adjusting his T shirt over his jogging bottoms. "I guess I got a little carried away there, sorry."

"Do not apologise at all Arthur," she puts her hand on his knee shooting him a genuine smile, "are you... annoyed?"

"Not at all." He puts his arm around her. "Now where were we?" He points the remote back at the TV with a smirk.

"No Arthur!" She giggles. He chuckles as he exits out of the video, handing her the remote.

"You can pick [nickname]. What do you want to do, aside from me that is." He asks with a playful sneer, they both burst into laughter. She's amazed at how unbothered he is, how he can make her feel so wanted and yet can turn it off if she needs it to stop. Ironically, it makes her want him even more, but she needs to hold her ground.

They settle on a documentary about space, one that Isaac had recommended to Arthur before, and they sit in blissful silence as they learn more about the universe. They also decided on pizza, seemingly a pattern with their sleepovers. Arthur keeps pausing the TV to tell y/n a side fact he'd read somewhere, or heard from another documentary. Usually, y/n hates interruptions, but she doesn't mind it with him. This, out of everything, is the moment she realises she's head over heels for the guy.

When the film is over, Arthur stretches and asks y/n if she wants anything. "We can call it a night, or play some Minecraft if you're up for it?" He offers sweetly.

"Actually, I am pretty tired. Would you be OK with me brushing my teeth and hitting the hay?" She asks him, a yawn punctuating her sentence.

"Of course I don't mind y/n, I'll get you a spare toothbrush out." He heads to the bathroom. Y/n piles up a couple of cushions and lays the blanket ready on the sofa, before joining Arthur in the bathroom. "I got a spare towel and flannel out for you too in case you wanted a shower tomorrow morning, feel free to use my soap." He smiles, deciding to brush his teeth then and there too.

"You really are something Arthur." Y/n says with a delighted sigh.

"Something good I hope," He mumbles in response, his toothbrush still in his mouth and foamy toothpaste all over his smile. She can't help but grin at him as she nods. Once they’re both minty fresh, y/n starts making her way to the sofa. “Wait, what’re you doing?” He asks.

“Going to sleep Arth,” she replies with a confused chuckle.

“Oh no, you can take my bed. You’re not sleeping on a sofa!” He politely informs her. He rushes to her side, almost to guide her back to his room.

“Arthur, you’ve made me feel more than welcome tonight, you deserve to sleep in your own bed!” Y/n sweetly replies. They reach his room.

“Well, that settles it, we’ll have to share it,” Arthur shrugs, his face then getting more serious, “only if you want to though.”

She feigns thinking hard. "Which side of the bed do you prefer?" She then asks.

"Which ever isn't the side you want." He replies with a soft voice.

She rushes to the lounge area to grab her phone, charger, and water. Randomly picking the left side, she climbs in and sighs out another yawn. "Wow, your bed is really comfy," she exclaims, lightly jiggling herself up and down, "and bouncy!"

Arthur laughs at her cuteness. "It is bouncy..." He trails off, his mind going to darker places. He can just about see through his T shirt on her, noticing the way her breasts jiggle and has to tear his eyes away before she notices. And before he gets too excited again. "You OK Arth?" She asks sweetly, seemingly not noticing.

"Oh, um, I'm fine..." He answers, a little too immediate, yet too hesitant at the same time. "But I... usually only sleep in boxers and a tee. Would that be OK?" He awkwardly scratches the back of his neck, slowly getting more sober by the minute at the thought of actually laying next to the girl of his dreams in his own bed.

"That's totally fine, I was about to ask you if I can do pretty much the same thing. I can't stand the feeling of loose fabric on my legs in bed." She giggles.

"Right? It's so uncomfortable!" Arthur yells, still not sober enough to control his volume apparently. He clears his throat and slowly pulls his joggers down, revealing fitted boxers underneath. Y/n pretends to check a phone notification that doesn't exist, as an excuse not to stare, before removing Arthur's pyjama bottoms from under the quilt, folding them, and dropping them on the floor beside her. He adjusts his LED lights to a dim shade of purple, very cozy and reminiscent of his old Tiktok videos.

He slides in next to her, realising that he's not used to one particular side of his bed, but he'll make an exception for her. He's sure he'll be accustomed to the right side one day. Preferably forever. He lays on his back with one hand under his head, the other on his phone. Adjusting his screen brightness and volume as to not disturb y/n. Meanwhile, she lays on her side, away from Arthur, in an attempt to get comfortable. She then rolls over to face him.

"I've got a question for you." She whispers.

"What's that then?" He asks with a side smile, his voice quiet as he turns his head to lock eyes with her.

"Big spoon or little spoon?" She asks.

He chuckles at her cuteness, he wasn’t sure whether the question was going to be serious or not. “I like both.”

“Good answer. What’s your preference for tonight though?” She replies.

Arthur pauses to think, twice tonight he’s been flustered. He doesn’t really want to feel like that again while up against her. He only thinks for a few seconds, but his mind is out to get him tonight. It travels to how her cheeks would feel when he slams into them, all thanks to Becky pointing out y/n’s ass is at the pub golf. He stiffens at just the thought. “L-little spoon tonight.” Smart reply. He doesn’t want her to feel it. Not yet.

He rolls to his right and the bed shifts as she joins him, her arm reaches round his torso and he silently begs that she doesn’t shift her hand down a couple of inches. Her body flushes against him and she feels so warm, so encompassing. He feels safe, but she’s made him feel that way since they first exchanged words.

Now her mind plays dirty. She thinks about that kiss on the sofa, his desperate sigh. His stubble scratching against her skin just the right amount. The way his hand slid up to her waist. The way his eyes undressed her. She wonders what the morning will bring when:

“What are your plans for tomorrow again?” Arthur mumbles.

“Oh, nothing.” She replies, still a little distracted.

“Wrong. You’re spending the day with me.” He replies, almost smooth until he hiccups at the end. She lets out a sleepy laugh and pulls him closer.

“Sounds good to me Arth.” She whispers.

“I look forward to it.” His velvet voice replies. He locks his phone and yawns, setting on his bedside table. “Good night, my little gem.”

She was asleep before she could reply.

———

A faint hissing sound ushers her awake. She frowns as she remembers she’s not in her own bed. She’s facing the wall, not the direction she remembers falling asleep in. Swallowing the morning dryness out of her throat, she rolls over to find the bed empty. “Arthur?” She asks quietly. No response.

She gets up and gives herself a good stretch. She checks her phone to see nothing from him. Her body still not 100% awake yet, she exits his room to find a glorious sight: Arthur in the kitchen area, with just a towel around his waist and messy bed hair. He catches her out the corner of his eye.

“Good morning sleepy.” He chirps, beaming at her. She dreads to think how she looks.

“G’morning Arthur.” She replies with a smile, rubbing the sleep away from her eyes. “Have you been up long?”

“Nah, about 15 minutes I’d say. Just had a shower and then started breakfast.” He replies, concentrating on the frying pan he’s using. “There’s plenty of hot water left for you by the way.”

“Thank you Arth, what are you making?” She joins him in the kitchen, curious and hungry.

“I’m making us some pancakes. It felt like a pancake morning.” He replies, looking happier than ever. “Although they’re not looking too nice.”

"They smell delicious though." She grins as she stands next to him, watching him struggle to scoop up the half cooked batter to flip it. "Here, let me help." Arthur steps aside and lets her take the utensils. His eyes travel from her concentrating smile, down to his T shirt she's still wearing, the further down to her gorgeous bare legs. He adjusts his towel, just in case.

"I don't think there's enough oil here." She mumbles, pouring a little more in and fixing the pancake. "I can do the rest of these if you need to make yourself more decent". She gestures to his towel and gets a better look at his muscles. Her eyes linger for a moment at his perfect six pack and broad shoulders. She takes what she thinks is a subtle sigh, but Arthur can sense her getting flustered.

"You don't think I look decent?" He teases, cocking his head.

"Oh! That's not what... You look incredible, I mean-" She stammers, her eyes going wide.

Arthur squints his eyes shut as he laughs. "I'm kidding! I'll get changed." Y/n stares ahead in disbelief at herself as Arthur walks away. Before he's out of sight, she can see the back of his neck turning red.

"Sorry for starting breakfast and then leaving it for you." Arthur says sheepishly as he rejoins her in the kitchen. He takes a seat up at the counter as she flops the last pancake onto his plate and slides it to him. His eyes pop at the presentation.

"It's really no problem at all, it's better than you burning the place down." She quips as she sits next to him and they dig in. He laughs but interrupts himself with a hum of appreciation, loving their breakfast collaboration.

Y/n breaks the silence. "I hope you don't mind, but I opened a window. It got a bit smokey in here."

Arthur finishes his mouthful, "Don't you mean steamy?" He jokes, smirking at her and bouncing his thick eyebrows. Y/n laughs, covering her mouth as to not spit out her food. She shakes her head at him.

"Don't try and deny it, you were definitely checking me out earlier." He added, cockily. Her mouth widens but she still dons a smile.

"It's not my fault you were wearing nothing but a slutty little towel." She jabs back playfully. Arthur's jaw then drops, he puts his finger in the syrup and swipes it over her lips. Shovelling the last bit of his pancake in his mouth, he rushes out of his chair to avoid any counter attacks. "Oh you're in big trouble Frederick." She grumbles with a grin.

"Don't threaten me with a good time y/n!" He giggles as he starts backing away from her. She hops out of her chair with the whipped cream can in hand, she runs after him but he's much faster. She presses the lid as hard as she can and cream sprays everywhere, including the back of Arthur's hoodie and joggers. He pauses and turns around, a look of surprise on his face.

"That's what you get when you mess with me, towel boy." She smirks, throwing the can in the air and catching it like a cowboy.

"That's it!" Arthur calls as he sprints after her this time. As they both rush past the table, Arthur grabs a strawberry as his weapon of choice. She runs to the lounge area, shrieking as he clambers over the sofa and catches her. He wraps one arm around her and tries pressing the strawberry to her mouth with the other. "Open wide," he mumbles mischievously, but it sounded a little too sexy to y/n. Two can play at that game.

As she wriggles around trying to get out of his grip, she grinds her ass against his crotch. She hears his breath hitch from behind her as he stops for a brief moment, before continuing his attack. "You naughty girl." He murmurs in a low, definitely seductive tone, a pitch deeper than she's ever heard from him. "Get here now."

He manages to turn her to face him amongst the play fighting, a mix of syrup and strawberry juice on her lips. He holds her flush against him with her arms pinned to her side. "Don't you look delicious." He whispers with a smirk. She can feel his phone digging against her and it's just enough stimulation to cause the hairs on the back of her neck to stand. He leans in and licks a slow deliberate line across the corner of her mouth.

"Mmm," he hums, his eyes getting heavy, "I bet that's not the only place you taste good." She can't believe what she's hearing, her breaths get shallower as she instinctively licks her own lips. The mix does taste nice to be fair. He peers into her eyes and chuckles before his phone rings. From the kitchen counter. Oh, she thinks.

"To be continued," Arthur quips, recognising the set ringtone. "It's my manager." He heads to answer it, a little out of breath himself.

"I'm just gonna go shower and freshen up." She excuses herself, just before he accepts the call.

She washes off the mini breakfast she was wearing on her face as she stares at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Her face is bright red, and not from the strawberry. Arthur's muffled voice from the other room envelopes her as her thoughts take her to his deeper voice from earlier. A sudden wave of shyness engulfs her, that that side of him had been dwelling all this time, but she can't say she's surprised. He's always had a certain cheekiness to, of course that would extend to his bedroom antics. She spots the folded up towel placed beside the sink, where Arthur showed her, but now it has a spare pair of joggers and hoodie on top. He's so considerate. Just as well, the shirt she slept in had food all over it anyway.

———

His phone call didn't last long at all. Arthur awaits y/n's return in the lounge, adjusting his excitement in his waistband and taking a deep breath. Without her beautiful presence, nerves begin to wash over him. He just hopes that he didn't freak her out too much with his playfulness. He then gets a funny thought, and reaches for the TV remote with a smirk.

A few minutes later, y/n emerges from the bathroom wearing a new, but equally cute, outfit. Just seeing her again calms him. She approaches him with an ice breaker prepared. "Everything alright with your manager?" She asks sweetly.

"Yeah," Arthur replies, eyeing y/n up and down, amazed at how she pulls off any outfit, "just double checking my upload schedule, nothing serious." She takes a seat next to him and gets herself comfortable.

"That's good, what are we watch-" She stops mid sentence as she looks at the TV, her mouth hanging open. "Are you serious?" The TV is paused on their pub golf video again, and Arthur chuckles as he scrolls back down to the comments.

"I thought we'd continue our light reading." Arthur sniggers, finding another comment about the pair. "'Arthur wants that cookie so bad hashtag y/nTV'"

"Not this again!" Y/n cries out, laughing. Arthur turns the TV off and throws the remote on the floor. He leans over and wraps his arms around her, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

"Don't be such a baby!" He whispers teasingly. She can hear his smirk as his breath tickles her neck. Round two of the play fight begins. She pushes at him and reaches for his armpits, surprised to figure out he's also ticklish. He shrieks out little 'no's and pleas as he falls onto his back on the floor, y/n tumbling down with him. Luckily the blanket from the night before was crumpled up there, so they were cushioned.

Y/n near straddles him, her knees resting either side of his hips, as she holds herself up. His hands intertwine with hers in a desperate attempt to defend himself. She shifts her weight forwards, pinning his hands either side of his head. They both catch their breaths as Arthur looks down at their bodies, before locking eyes with y/n. He cocks his head with a grin. "Have we been here before?" He chuckles, his face heating up. Y/n bites her lips between her teeth, feeling her lower belly tense before shyly smiling.

"I think we can remove that pin now." Arthur whispers, before leaning upward and capturing her lips in a kiss. It’s not long before the kisses grow passionate and needy again. He swipes his tongue across her bottom lip, a silent request for entry, which she grants. Without the blaring music from the karaoke bar, y/n can hear everything. Every hum of enjoyment or needy whimper coming from him, like little melodies.

Letting go of his hands, she uses one to keep herself steady as the other cups Arthur's cheek. His now free hands raise to hold her at her waist, sliding his fingers under the fabric of his hoodie and lightly grazing his nails up and down her sides. The sensations begin driving her wild, leading her to accidentally let out a soft moan into his lips as her body lowers even more, flush against his.

He pulls away from her, panting slightly, his lips wet and puffy. That sound, it was music to his ears. He looks up at her with blown out pupils, his eyelids low. She in turn, can't take her eyes off him either. He wraps one arm around her torso and threads his other hand up through her hair, resting it on the back of her head, and pushes her down to continue their kissing. Soon after, he rolls the pair of them over, kneeling between her legs as he lowers himself. A gasps escapes her lips for the brief moment they separate, knowing it can't be his phone in his pocket. But her breath is cut off again by his hungry lips. He begins kissing across her jaw until he lands under her ear, exhaling a low hum and sending shivers down her spine. "I'm gonna spoil you so good." He whispers in her ear before softly biting at her neck, that deeper voice making its return. She can't help but whimper in response, instinctively bucking her hips up against his tented joggers. "Fuck, y/n..." he groans. He's magnetised back to her lips as they kiss some more.

Arthur pulls away, needing to take a breath. "Do we... need a condom?" He asks, checking for consent. She looks up at him with soft, dark eyes.

"I'm on the pill and yes, I really want this." She purrs as combs her fingers through his wavy hair, knowing him all too well. Arthur sighs as his eyes roll back with relief, he leans further back on his knees to remove his T shirt. A small gasps escapes y/n's lips as Arthur leans back over her and lets her run her fingers over his chiselled abs. "Holy shit..." She whispers under her breath, and he hums contently under her gentle touch, his tent twitching as he watches her reaction. His fingers toy with the bottom of the hoodie.

"Let's make this fair shall we?" He teases, tugging on it a little. He leans back again as she sits up, shyly removing the hoodie knowing full well her bra's still in the bedroom with the rest of her clothes. She watches his eyes darken as they lock straight on to her chest, his mouth falls open. He raises a hand ready and then pauses, looking at her face.

"You don't need to hesitate," She whispers, "you can do what you want with me, Arthur." She's fully under his seductive spell and just like that, he manoeuvres further down her body and dives in. His lips wrap round her left nipple, while his hand gently massages the other breast. She throws her head back and moans his name in hushed tones. As he continues nipping and suckling, he presses his head against her chest to gently lay her flat on her back again. He then switches his lips to her right nipple as his hands slide down her sides and rest at the waistband of the jogging bottoms. He exhales a moan against her nipple as he hooks his fingers under the fabric, before pulling away and looking up at her through his heavy eyelids.

She peers down at him as he peppers kisses down her belly whilst edging the joggers down, pulling down her underwear with them. Feeling a little shyer, y/n giggles as she raises her hips to help him further. He moves to her side to allow her to remove the joggers with her feet and kick them away. She naturally bends her legs and keeps them together. Arthur chuckles as he kneels by her feet, his callused hands sliding up her calfs and resting on her knees before spreading them open.

"Oh my goodness..." He whispers in delight, the naked goddess before him being even more gorgeous than his imagination. "You're so fucking beautiful." He wraps his big hands round her thighs and pulls her closer, her body sliding along the soft blanket with ease. He shifts back as he lays himself flat on his stomach, meeting her gaze as he dips his head lower.

"Arthur, you don't have to-" She tries, but is cut off when Arthur presses a wet kiss to her inner thigh. He looks down at her pussy.

"But I'm hungry." His licks a stripe up from her hole to her clit, his eyes dart back up to hers as she arches her back and gasps. He flicks his tongue over it again and again, grunting through his nose as he watches her through furrowed eyebrows, her whimpers cheering him on. He grips her thighs tighter as he buries his head more, his attention now on her entrance as his tongue darts inside. She moans his name as he tongue-fucks her, his nose bumping her clit. She watches him in complete bliss as his eyes are fluttered shut, his hands clasped round her thighs.

Sensing her body's growing tension, he focuses back on her clit, suckling on it in a rhythm that matches her heavy breathing. As she approaches orgasm, she can't even find the words to tell him, she just grips his soft fringe and rocks her hips a little in time with his sucking. He moans through his nose as his dark eyes burn into hers and she releases. Her legs shake and she can't help but call his name as he continues the pace that he can tell works for her. As her breathing steadies, he pulls away and wipes his lips with the back of his hand.

He climbs to his feet and stands by her head, reaching a hand out. "Come on gorgeous." He says with a side smile. Y/n moves to her knees, face to face with his achingly stretched out joggers. She reaches for his waistband.

“No darling.” He coos, reaching a hand to her cheek. “We can do that another time, but right now, I need to be in that pussy.” His fingers intertwine with hers as he leads her to the bedroom, the dopiest smile growing on his face as he turns to look at her en route. She’s still cooling down from her orgasm, but he can see she’s excited for what’s next.

When they reach his room, y/n takes charge a little. Still wanting to return the favour somehow, she pushes him onto his bed. He lets out a little ‘oof’ as he’s taken aback, a grin creeping on his pussy drunk face. She chuckles as she climbs on top of him. Naturally, he reaches up to play with her breasts again. “These are magnificent-" he praises before she cuts him off with another kiss. She tastes herself on his tongue which only turns her on more.

She grinds her hips against him, eliciting soft whimpers from him into her mouth. He reaches down to remove his bottoms, now dampened from her wet pussy, and she shifts to the side to allow him. She watches hungrily as his cock springs free, slapping his lower abs. He’s a little bigger than what she’s experienced in the past, but she’s willing to take the challenge. She straddles him again as his cock lays against his torso. She grinds her pussy up and down his length to tease him as his hands grip at her waist. Already it feels so good and he’s not even inside her yet.

“Please y/n.” He begs between desperate breaths. She holds herself higher on her knees as she positions him at her entrance. She lowers herself just enough to make contact, just enough for him to feel how warm she is. He whines quietly through his nose as his hands slide down to her hips and giving the soft flesh a squeeze. His eyebrows knit together as he looks down as his cock, fighting the urge to slam her down.

She watches his face change as she sinks down on him, taking him in completely. They both let out a loud moan in near perfect harmony. He throws his head back with pleasure as he lightly digs his nails into her hips. After taking a couple of seconds to adjust to his size, she begins rocking her hips back and forth.

“Fuck, y/n,” Arthur pants, “you feel, fuck, incredible.” He watches as she works on him, her boobs jiggling as she switches to bouncing on him to roughen things up. His groans grow louder as his mouth hangs wide, watching her with total bliss. His cock is the perfect size, hitting all the right places and stretching her walls just the right amount. She leans forward to kiss him as she rides him.

He interrupts their kissing to whisper her name through gritted teeth against her lips, while he cups her face. He can feel her walls tightening and her whimpers growing more intense. He wraps his arms around her and pins her chest against his before thrusting up into her at incredible speed. She buries her face into the crook of his neck, unable to keep her composure as her second orgasm takes her by storm. He fucks her hard and fast through it and gradually slows down as she recovers. He stills inside her as she catches her breath, planting thankful kisses down his neck.

He keeps her pinned against him as he rolls them both over, still inside her as he kneels between her legs. “Think you can handle some more?” He asks, his voice almost a growl. She stares up at him, completely drunk in lust as she simply nods her head. “Good.” He murmurs as he begins rocking his hips into her, starting off slower and gentler, before pinning her down by the backs of her thighs and pounding her hard. He bites his lip and frowns as he concentrates on slamming that spot in her, feral grunts leaving him. Watching her enjoyment only keeps him energised as he fucks her savagely, but he wants his lips on hers again.

He shifts his weight onto his elbows, unable to pound her as rough but he rocks his hips at a faster and deeper pace. He presses his forehead to hers as he begins moaning louder, her own noises sounding like heaven. “Fuck. You feel so fucking good y/n.” He grumbles. He captures her lips in another heated kiss as he feels her walls tightening once again. “You wanna cum together baby?” He whispers. She groans out an ‘uh-huh’ in response, unable to speak from the sheer pleasure.

He leans to one elbow, using his free hand to cup her jaw as his own orgasm approaches. Despite them tingling, she raises her legs more to allow him to thrust even deeper. Her nails draw sensual stripes down his back.

“Arthur, I’m gonna-”

“Me too y/n. I, FUCK-”

He roars out a guttural moan as he releases into her, her tight walls milking him as they orgasm together. She wraps her arms and legs around him, pulling him as close to her as possible as they groan each other’s names. He kisses her as the wave dies down in their storm of passion.

Leaning away from her, he peers down at her affectionately as he catches his breath.

“Oh my god Arthur.” She exclaims, her voice raspy. He pecks another kiss to her lips before pulling out of her and rolling to her side.

“Wow.” Is all he can muster on his beaming lips. Still panting, he gets up to grab her a towel and begins running a bath for them both.

“Arthur, that was… incredible.” She whispers with a huge smile on her face.

“‘Was’? I'm not finished with you yet.”

♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥

[PART FIVE (FINALE)]

A/n: my first smut piece. Honestly writing this got me kicking my feet, not gonna lie. The support has been amazing, I appreciate everyone's kind words and making me feel so welcome here. ♥♥♥ I'm not sure if a part 5 is needed, maybe an insta AU hard launch to round it off? ♥ Taglist: @ooostarwarsfandom501st @themdera @rougetv @essieswurld @darleneslane - Gabby xo

#arthur tv fluff #arthur tv #arthur tv x reader #arthur frederick #arthur frederick x reader #arthur tv smut #arthur Frederick smut

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babyarmywrites · 17 days ago

Text

someone i could love - han jisung

Synopsys: In a world where love often strikes like lightning, two former classmates—once distant and overlooked—find themselves drawn together again under the bright but demanding spotlight of the entertainment industry. As Han Jisung battles his own anxieties and the pressures of fame, you slowly discover the quiet, steady flame of a love that’s been there all along. Through awkward moments, late-night studio rehearsals, and gentle confessions, the two of you learn that sometimes love doesn’t roar—it simmers, growing stronger with every shared smile and every small touch, until it becomes impossible to ignore.

Word count: 9,7k

Warnings: fluff, slight angst, but with happy ending, Han's social anxiety, Han running away

Song in title: someone i could love - charlotte cardin

The ways of love are strange—no doubt about that. Sometimes, all it takes is a single glance. Suddenly, your world tilts, your planet shifts its orbit, and the stars rearrange themselves into something magical. Something otherworldly. A light so blinding, it leaves you dazed. A symphony so loud, it drowns out everything else.

Other times, love creeps in slowly, quietly. Just a spark—barely there—flickering in the shadows, waiting for the smallest gust of wind to breathe it back to life. And when it does, it burns wildly, consuming everything in its path. Like an inactive volcano, silent for years, suddenly erupting with all the emotion it had buried deep inside. This kind of love feels more like longing than anything else.

You meet Han Jisung in school. You share many classes with him, considering you're both foreign students and can only take courses in English. At first, he doesn’t really stand out. He’s shy, a little nerdy, and often keeps to himself. You notice early on that he clams up when he’s uncomfortable and tends to fade into the background unless he’s with people he trusts.

Nonetheless, he has some witty remarks, ones whispered under his breath, not expecting anyone to hear them, that are so funny they make the whole class laugh. He’s definitely a little odd, but there’s something endearing about him. He’s kind, helpful, the sort of person you know you could count on. No one at school has a bad word to say about Han Jisung. He wouldn’t hurt a soul. He smiles warmly at everyone—genuinely, not out of habit—and that smile is something people remember.

You, on the other hand, are a different story.

You’ve got a crowd. Your friends are loud, confident, impossible to ignore. They own every room they walk into, and while you're always with them, you sometimes feel like you don’t fully belong. The odd one out. The quiet presence in the middle of all the noise.

You’re not one for the spotlight, not really—but it can be nice, being surrounded by people. You listen more than you talk. You’re the one who steps in when someone crosses a line, the calm in the chaos. You like your friends, even if they’re a bit too much sometimes. Still, being popular in high school is intoxicating. You like being seen. You like that people know your name, that you’re part of the stories they tell.

And you’re not like the other popular kids. You don’t bully anyone. You’re kind, always smiling—everyone says so. A ray of sunshine, impossible to dislike. You wouldn’t even hurt a beetle.

Everyone is mesmerized by you. Including Han Jisung.

At school, your “relationship” with Han is nothing out of the ordinary. You're not exactly friends, but you sit together in some classes and work on group projects now and then. You only talk about mundane things—never anything deeper than homework or academics. You know he's funny and silly, sometimes clumsy, but it's clear he’s passionate, hardworking, and takes any project he's involved in seriously.

He carries an MP3 player with him everywhere, practically panicking if it goes missing for even a few seconds. He loves talking about music, which you find geeky—but kind of adorable. You think he’s cute, in a helpless little brother sort of way. Not in a would-like-to-kiss way.

Jisung, on the other hand, is convinced he's in love with you from the very first moment you interact—when he asks to borrow a pen. You nod cheerfully and hand him a Hello Kitty pen. As he reaches for it, your hands brush ever so slightly. And that’s it—Han Jisung is doomed.

He makes a quiet promise to himself: he'll savor every second he gets to spend with you. He knows those moments will be limited by social norms, your busy schedule (cool kids always have cool things to do), and his inevitable return to Korea. He hates that his hands get clammy and he gets fidgety around you, but he's grateful for the laughs and easy conversations you share. You're a good listener. You have a skill he envies: the ability to connect with anyone, to befriend whoever crosses your path. He's a little jealous of that, but never resentful—it probably makes him like you even more, even if only from a distance.

If Han is sure of one thing, it’s that you can never find out how he feels. Because his feelings are stupid, he tells himself. He barely knows you. You’re just kids. There’s no way he should feel this attached to the idea of you. So he keeps it quiet. And surprisingly, he manages to hide it for a long time—at least until he returns to Korea.

One day, he’s just gone. No goodbye—not to you, at least. Rumors float around school that he moved back to Korea to pursue a music career. You're surprised, but also oddly proud of him. You didn’t know much about the boba-eyed boy, but if there was one thing you were sure of, it was that he was a music nerd. You make a quiet note to wish him well in whatever he does. And, somewhere in the back of your mind, you kind of hope he makes it big one day.

A few years later, Han finally makes it. He becomes an idol. He debuts with his group, Stray Kids, alongside eight of his friends. He’s finally doing what he’s dreamed of his whole life: making music. He’s having fun, he's found friends he knows are for life.

But still, there’s a certain emptiness inside him.

He finds himself thinking about you every now and then. With every milestone they hit, every award they win, every record they break—he wonders about you. Do you remember him? Do you know he’s kind of famous now? That he’s out there, making music? Do you ever see his face on banners or posters around town? And if you do... are you thinking of him? Are you proud of him?

He tells himself he’ll probably never get answers to those questions.

Until one day, everything changes. One of his members decides to leave the group, and their PR manager is fired for mishandling the situation. A replacement is brought in immediately. The group is called in for a meeting to meet the new recruit.

And the second Han steps into the room, his eyes lock with yours. He recognizes you instantly.

And just like that—like a volcano that’s been dormant for years, quietly building pressure beneath the surface—his heart erupts. All the feelings he thought he buried come rushing back, stronger than ever.

"Han-ah! Close your mouth, or a mosquito’s gonna fly in!" Changbin teases, punching the younger boy playfully on the arm.

"Hyung! Hyung!" Seungmin calls out, trying to break Jisung out of whatever trance he’s stuck in. He waves his hands dramatically in front of those sparkly, boba-like eyes—locked firmly on you—but nothing in that moment could bring Han back to earth.

Bang Chan watches from the side, quietly trying to make sense of the situation. He’s seen his bandmate in all kinds of moods—he’s seen him go completely silent around strangers, and he’s seen him bounce off the walls, spewing nervous nonsense thanks to his social anxiety. But this? This is something else entirely.

Standing there in front of you, Han Jisung is frozen. Speechless.

But his eyes tell a different story. They’re calm. Full of fondness and familiarity.

"What is wrong with your friend?" Seungmin asks Chris, his voice sarcastic, but with a hint of concern—the kind he reserves for his bandmates.

Jisung’s brain doesn’t register anything happening around him. He doesn't hear the chaotic bickering between Hyunjin and Minho. He doesn’t see Seungmin or Jeongin making ridiculous faces, failing miserably at trying to snap him out of it.

All he sees is you.

He watches as a warm smile spreads across your face. He watches the moment you recognize him—the way your eyes crinkle with genuine happiness at seeing someone from the past. Someone you didn’t expect.

"Long time no see, Han Jisung!" you say brightly—and the entire room freezes. The members stare at you in stunned disbelief, silently wondering how and since when you’ve known their beloved rapper.

Han finally snaps out of his daze and acts on pure instinct. He crosses the room in a few long strides and pulls you into a tight hug. Neither of your brains fully processes what’s happening—if he weren't so shocked, he’s certain he would’ve run in the opposite direction instead of being this bold. But he can’t help it. You’re here. You’re finally here.

He’s spent so much time daydreaming about this moment, imagining what he would do, what he would say. But now that it’s real, all those carefully crafted scenarios vanish. Logic is gone. All that remains is something primal, a feeling so deeply rooted it overrides everything else.

You don’t hesitate. You hug him back, your arms wrapping around his lean torso. He smells like a dream. His oversized T-shirt is soft against your skin, warm and comforting—a perfect embrace, one that soothes a restless heart.

“It’s so great to see you again,” he whispers. You’re pretty sure the words were meant for your ears only, but he’s far too excited to control his volume. Everyone hears the not-so-subtle confession, and the room erupts with hollering and whistling.

But none of it registers. Not for either of you. You're too caught up in the moment.

After a few seconds, you pull away just enough to look at him properly. Your eyes scan his face, drinking in the details. He still has that boyish charm—the sparkly boba eyes, the soft pout, the expressive brows, the round cheeks—but he’s changed, too. There’s a maturity in his features now. He’s devilishly handsome in that same geeky, endearing way, but he’s grown into himself. His hair is professionally styled, his skin smooth and glassy, and his signature moles glimmer like rhinestones on his cheeks.

“Ahem.”

Someone clears their throat. Loudly. Both you and Han turn toward Bang Chan like startled deer caught in headlights. Han practically jumps back with a squeak, quickly bowing and blurting out a rapid “Annyeonghaseyo!”—as if the last five minutes hadn’t just happened. He looks like a cartoon character, and you can’t help but laugh at his flustered antics.

You respond in perfect Korean and bow respectfully, greeting each of the members one by one. Your formality surprises them—and Han most of all. You speak the language so fluently, your mannerisms so naturally Korean-like, he’s speechless.

He watches as you chat with Chan, still speaking Korean, and his surprise only grows. He doesn’t remember you ever knowing the language, let alone mentioning a visit to his home country. Somehow, impossibly, this new side of you makes him fall even harder.

The other members chime in, turning the conversation into a full-on interrogation. Where are you from? How did you learn Korean? How do you know Han Jisung? How close are you to their beloved Quokka-boy?

You explain everything. After high school, you moved to Seoul for university. Even though you took English-taught courses, your scholarship required you to learn Korean. After graduation, you decided to stay in the country as you were given a great work opportunity at a renowned company, you just couldn’t miss out on. You tell them that a few weeks ago, a headhunter from JYP Entertainment offered you a payment package impressive enough to switch companies.

Which brings you here. Their new PR Manager.

Han hangs on every word, completely captivated by your confidence. You’ve changed so much. You’re still beautiful—gorgeous, even—but there’s a new polish to you. The way you dress, the way you speak, the energy you carry. It’s probably because it’s your first day at JYPE and you’re trying to stay professional in order to make a good first impression. Still, he wonders: Do you still dress like you used to outside of work? Still laugh the same way? Still walk with that same bounce in your step?

No matter how much you’ve grown, one thing hasn’t changed: your warmth. Your smile still lights up every room. You still speak with that signature fondness. Your eyes still shine with curiosity.

He's standing so close now. Closer than you ever thought he would be again.

And you won’t lie—you don’t mind it. Not even a little.

It’s strange, isn’t it? The way time toys with you. How someone can slip out of your life, leaving behind nothing but fading memories and half-buried what-ifs… only to reappear like a song you used to love but forgot how it went. One moment he’s just a thought in the back of your mind, and the next—he’s here. Real. Right in front of you.

And you can’t stop wondering: did you two just meet at the wrong time?

Because back then… you weren’t ready. You thought you were. You convinced yourself you had it all figured out. But the truth is, you didn’t really see him. Not fully. Not in the way he deserved to be seen.

Your head was somewhere else—floating in clouds, chasing distractions that meant nothing in the long run. You didn’t know what love looked like when it was quiet and patient. You didn’t know what he looked like when he was trying to show you.

And maybe it’s foolish, maybe it’s far too late—but now, standing here with him looking at you like you’re still someone worth remembering… you’d give anything to try again. Not to go back—no. But to reach for something new built on the pieces you never really let go of.

He’s older now. You are too. And even with all the growing up you’ve both done, something about this moment feels like home. Like something you didn’t realize you were missing until it was standing right in front of you again.

You wonder if he feels it too.

Maybe this is the universe finally playing fair. Maybe it’s just another cruel twist in the plot. You don’t know.

But if he asked—if he even hinted—you know you’d try. You’d try to make it up to him.

Not with dramatic apologies or perfect words. Just with something real. Something honest. You’d show up, fully present this time. You’d stay.

If he lets you.

You’re standing right there.

He swears his heart is doing something it shouldn’t be allowed to—skipping beats, crashing against his ribs like it’s trying to break free, to get to you. You haven’t even touched him again, not since that first hug, but he still feels your presence like static on his skin.

It should scare him. It should be too much. But it isn’t. Not even close.

Because to him, you’re already a sin. A temptation he surrendered to a long time ago.

And he doesn't care.

He never stood a chance, not really—not when it came to you. You were sunlight and softness and a mess of contradictions, and he was a kid who didn’t know what to do with the way you made the world feel brighter and heavier at the same time. He kept his distance then because he thought he had to. Because he thought someone like you—someone with so much light—would never want someone like him. Someone who hid in shadows and second-guessed everything he felt.

But now? You’re back. You’re here. And he realizes with terrifying clarity: he doesn’t care if you hurt him.

You could burst into flames right in front of him, and he’d still reach out. You could look him in the eye, say you were only ever passing through, and he’d still hold the door open for you to come and go as you please. He’s not afraid of getting burned—not if it means being near you, even just for a moment.

Because there’s something about you that’s sweeter than the danger. Softer than the risk. Something he can't refuse.

If you asked—if you even looked at him a certain way—he’d become anything for you. A friend. A fool. A flame. A home.

You could wound him again and again, and he’d still stand there, arms open, ready to take it. Ready to hold the pain if it meant he could have a piece of you too.

He’s not like the others. The ones who looked at you and ran because they didn’t know what to do with someone so fiercely alive. Han isn’t running. Not this time.

He’ll stay.

He’ll take the storm, the fire, the chaos. He’ll embrace you, every imperfect part. Every beautiful flaw.

Because, no matter how much it might hurt, loving you has always felt better than losing you.

After the initial meeting and the gruesome interrogation inflicted on you by the members of Stray Kids, the following days go by without anything exceptional happening. You're trying your hardest to catch up on all the aspects of your new job, how you should approach certain topics of conversation, and how to depict the members online in different styles of interviews and shows. Their pre-established style allows their persona to shine through, individually and as a group. You're drowning in work, you're stressed, and worst of all, starving, having not eaten anything else throughout the day, for one chocolate croissant from the company cafeteria, which you considered would go well with your morning coffee.

You’re organizing a few papers on your tablet when you hear a soft shuffle behind you. You turn around and find Han lingering by the doorway like he’s considering turning back.

You raise an eyebrow. “You lost, Han Jisung?”

He grins nervously, then immediately glances at the floor. “No—well, kind of. Emotionally? Spiritually? Logistically? No. I’m here for a reason. I swear.”

You blink at him. “Okay… Should I be worried?”

He steps inside and shuts the door behind him, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie. “No, no—definitely not. I mean, unless… you hate food. Or me. But I’m hoping you don’t hate either.”

You tilt your head, trying to hide your smile. “That’s a strange way to ask a question, Han.”

“Right.” He exhales. “Okay. Let me restart.”

He straightens his posture dramatically, puffing up like he’s about to give a TED Talk, then immediately deflates. “Wow, nope. That felt worse. Why is this so hard?”

You chuckle softly, waiting.

“Okay. So,” he finally says, stepping closer. “I was thinking… maybe you and I could grab dinner sometime soon? Just, you know, catch up, reminisce about the good old days, complain about school, laugh about how socially awkward I was—and still am, apparently.”

You laugh, genuinely now. “You are kind of in a drama, Han.”

“Yeah, well, if this is a drama, I’m the comic relief. And also the love interest. And probably the tragic backstory guy, too. Triple threat.” He smirks, but there’s a flicker of nervousness in his eyes. “But seriously… I’d like to spend some time with you. Just us. Nothing fancy. We could go somewhere lowkey. I promise I won’t even rap at you unless you specifically request it.”

You pretend to consider. “Hmm… will there be food?”

“Unlimited food,” he nods. “Possibly some awkward small-talk and excited rambling. And maybe—if you’re lucky—an old embarrassing story or two about high school Jisung.”

“Well, how could I say no to that?”

He grins so wide it reaches his eyes, boyish and bright. “So that’s a yes?”

You nod. “That’s a yes.”

Han blinks. “Wait—really?”

You smile. “You were convincing. Also, I’m starving. And you said food.”

“Oh, thank God,” he breathes, the tension melting from his shoulders. “Because if you’d said no, I would’ve had to awkwardly moonwalk out of here and pretend this conversation never happened.”

You laugh. “You still could, if you really wanted to.”

“Tempting, but I’d rather feed you than humiliate myself. Again.” He glances around. “You done for the day?”

You check the time, then shrug. “Honestly? I’ve been pretending to understand this document for the last twenty minutes. I think my brain left the building an hour ago.”

“Perfect,” he says, eyes lighting up. “Come on, then. There’s this little place not far from here. Nothing fancy, but they’ve got killer tteokbokki and mandu.”

“That sounds dangerously good,” you say, grabbing your bag.

“Dangerously necessary,” he corrects, holding the door open for you.

You walk out side by side, the office lights humming behind you, the air outside thick with evening warmth. The conversation picks up easily, full of half-finished stories and half-remembered jokes from school. It’s easy—familiar in the best way.

You’re walking beside him, close enough for your arms to brush every now and then, and Han’s trying not to lose his mind about it. You actually said yes.

You’re not just being polite either—you’re laughing, your steps are light, and you’re looking at him like he’s... someone. Not a background character in your story. Not the awkward kid who used to whisper sarcastic comments during group presentations. Just—Han. And okay, maybe this isn’t a date. But it feels like something. Something rare. Something new. And if this is all he gets, just this one night where you see him in full color instead of the faded tones he’s used to—he’ll take it.

The restaurant is tucked into a quiet side street, warm light glowing through foggy windows. Inside, it smells like fried batter, chili oil, and something sweet simmering in the back. Comfort food.

You slide into the booth across from Han, who immediately flattens the paper napkin on the table like it’s a formal dinner setting. “Please prepare your palate,” he says seriously. “Tonight’s menu includes nostalgia, sodium, and possible indigestion.”

You snort. “Perfect. That’s exactly my vibe.”

He grins, a little lopsided and proud of himself for making you laugh.

When the food comes—steaming hot bowls of tteokbokki, crispy mandu, and two fizzy drinks you can’t even name—he watches carefully as you take your first bite.

You groan. “Oh my god. This is so good.”

“I know, right?” He lights up. “I found this place by accident during trainee hell weeks. It became my go-to comfort spot. Kind of like a greasy therapist.”

He’s funny. He’s always been funny, you realize—but back then, you were too busy stressing over GPA and being the “nice one” in your loud friend group to really see him. He was just the shy guy with headphones and brilliant one-liners whispered under his breath.

You didn’t know he was like this.

Effortlessly charming. Warm. Quick. Comfortable in his skin, but still that same gentle, quiet soul.

And maybe it’s just the glow of the restaurant lights, or the way he’s smiling like he’s genuinely happy just to be here—but you suddenly feel something strange curl in your chest.

A small, silent question: How much did I miss… by not looking closer?

You shake it off, refocus on your food. On him. On now. He’s still talking about old dorm horror stories, his eyes bright with memory, his hands animated. And you’re listening. Really listening.

After that dinner, something between you and Han shifts—not dramatically, but enough that you notice. You find yourself looking for him during work hours, though it’s not easy. Stray Kids are nonstop, always pulled in every direction: studio sessions, dance rehearsals, photoshoots, YouTube lives—you name it. Their schedules are packed tight, and they rarely stop moving.

Yet somehow, Han never fails to drop by your office every single day he’s at the building. Without fail, he shows up with a snack or a coffee in hand, plus a lame joke that somehow gets funnier each time. Some days, he’s already in full makeup, looking sharp and camera-ready; other days, he strolls in wearing sweats and a hoodie, hair tousled, face completely bare—but somehow still managing to look effortlessly handsome.

Every time you see him, it feels a little bit easier to breathe. His jokes get better, his smiles wider, and his hugs—well, his hugs start to feel warmer, like they’re meant just for you. You realize slowly, maybe even a little reluctantly, that he’s becoming something you didn’t expect to want so much. You're knee-deep in schedules and promo notes when a soft knock taps against your open office door.

“Delivery for the overworked and under-caffeinated,” Han says, stepping in with two iced Americanos and a triumphant grin.

You glance up, smiling despite the stress clouding your head. “If this is poisoned, make it quick. I’ve lived a good life.”

“Tempting, but I didn’t have time to Google the dosage.” He sets the coffee on your desk and perches on the edge of the guest chair like he might spring back up at any moment. His hoodie sleeves are pushed up, revealing a few faint ink stains on his wrist, probably from lyric scribbles or doodles. His hair is still damp from rehearsal, slightly curling at the ends. “I brought a joke, too,” he announces, already grinning like he knows it’s terrible.

“Of course you did.”

“What’s a producer’s favorite kind of rice?”

You give him a flat look. “Oh no.”

“Beats-rice,” he declares, finger guns and all.

You groan loudly, covering your face with one hand. “That’s not even a pun.”

“Sure it is. You just don’t get my genius.”

“I do. That’s the problem.”

He chuckles, and for a moment, the room feels lighter, like you’ve both pressed pause on the chaos just outside your door. You sip the coffee he brought and sigh. “You really don’t have to keep doing this, you know.”

“I know,” he says, quiet for a beat. “But I want to.”

You look at him then, really look, and something inside you shifts—just slightly. He’s not the awkward boy from school anymore. Or maybe he is, but now you see the charm in it. The steadiness. The ease. And for the first time, you catch yourself wondering—not all at once, but slowly, gently—how you ever missed this.

You didn’t come here looking for anything. Not love. Not distraction. Especially not someone who smiles like that and makes you laugh like you’re seventeen again.

You’ve always been fine on your own—thrived in your own space, danced to your own rhythm. You’ve built your world with your own two hands, moved cities, chased dreams, handled heartbreaks. You’ve learned not to need anyone else to feel whole.

But lately, when Han looks at you—when he’s lingering in your doorway with some stupid joke and too much hope in his eyes—you feel yourself softening in ways you didn’t plan for.

You try to remind yourself you’re not here for this. You came to work. To be good at what you do. To keep your head down and your heart tucked away. And yet. Something about the way he speaks to you—like you’re familiar and new at the same time—makes you want to reach out. To ask about his sign, like you’re back in high school, making up reasons to keep the conversation going. To wonder if maybe, just maybe, he has some kind of plan that you’re quietly becoming part of.

And even though you told yourself you didn’t need anybody…

You can’t help thinking—if he asked, if he really asked—you might take his hand. And you’d follow him. Wherever this road is going.

Jisung, on the other hand, knows he’s falling.

It’s not subtle, not slow, not something creeping in quietly—it’s loud, immediate, undeniable. It’s been this way since the moment you walked back into his life like no time had passed at all. Since the second you said his name and smiled like you’d been saving that moment just for him.

Back then, back in school, he tried to keep his feelings under control. Told himself you were out of reach. You were kind, warm, brilliant—but you didn’t look at him like that. And he accepted it. Smiled through it. Let himself have the tiniest piece of you in memories and old conversations he kept replaying in his head like a favorite movie.

But now?

Now you’re here. In front of him. Talking to him, joking with him, sharing little pieces of your life like maybe—just maybe—he’s someone who belongs there.

He doesn’t have to guess how he feels. He wants you. Wants to see you every day. Wants to be the reason your smile shows up at random. Wants to give you every dumb, sweet, messy part of himself and trust that maybe this time, you'll see him.

He finds himself wondering what tomorrow will bring—not in fear, but in hope. How your laugh will sound. What you'll be wearing. Whether your hair will be up or down. What tiny, perfect version of you he’ll get to witness next.

He’s not just falling. He’s already there. And all he can do now is hope you’ll look back and see him—clearly, fully—for the first time.

It’s late—later than it should be—and the building is quiet in that kind of way that makes every sound feel more important. The hallway lights are dimmed, and the usual buzz of activity has finally gone still, leaving only a handful of people still working through the night. Of course, Han Jisung is one of them.

You were on your way out—coat slung over your arm, bag in hand—when you passed by the familiar studio door and noticed the light was still on. Something in you paused.

You knock once, twice, and then push the door open.

“Still here?” you ask softly, your voice cutting through the mellow instrumental that plays low through the speakers.

Han’s sitting at his desk, headphones slung around his neck, fingers fiddling with a mechanical pencil. He looks up, surprised—and maybe just a little bit thrilled.

“Guilty,” he says, sheepish. “I swear I was only going to be here for an hour.”

You smile, stepping inside and closing the door behind you. “Let me guess—you fell into the zone?”

“More like the zone dragged me in and locked the door,” he says, spinning slowly in his chair to face you fully. “You still here too?”

“Just finished. I was leaving when I saw your light on.”

He watches you quietly for a second, something tender and open in his gaze. “Thanks for checking.”

There’s a pause—not awkward, just still. You lean against the wall, watching him, and suddenly, the room feels warmer than it did a second ago.

“What are you working on?” you ask, nodding toward the screen.

He turns back to it, clicks play. A soft beat rolls out, gentle but layered—melancholy in a way that makes your chest ache just a little. And then, over it, his voice enters—mellow, melodic, not quite a rap, not quite a ballad. It’s something in between. Honest. A little raw.

You listen in silence until the sample fades.

“That was…” you start, but the words don’t come easily. “Beautiful.”

Han’s ears turn a little pink. He shrugs. “It’s not finished.”

You step closer, slow and careful, not entirely sure why your heart’s started beating faster.

“It sounds like something you needed to write,” you say.

He looks up at you, and for once, he doesn’t hide what he’s feeling. It’s all there—affection, longing, a hundred unsaid things tucked behind his tired smile.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “It is.”

You hold his gaze longer than you mean to. And that’s when you feel it—that subtle shift again. Not drastic. Not earth-shattering. But real. Something warm flickering to life just under your skin. You smile, then reach out and pluck the uneaten protein bar off his desk. “If you’re going to work late, you should at least eat something.

”He blinks, then laughs. “You just stole my dinner.”

You grin. “You can get revenge tomorrow. I’ll be here.”

“I know,” he says, and it comes out softer than you expect.

You leave the studio with the bar in hand, heart a little lighter, thoughts a little messier. Behind you, Han just sits there for a while, staring at the closed door like he’s trying to memorize the exact way you left. The beat plays again, and this time, he hums along with it—already thinking of the next line.

Months go by and your relationship with Jisung shifts again. Not dramatically, but noticeably. You learn that he is big on physical touch. You also learn, that you enjoy it more when it comes to him.

It starts with longer hugs.

At first, they were brief, polite—friendly greetings between two people rekindling an old connection. But over time, they change. His arms start to linger around your waist just a second longer than they should. Your hands stay looped behind his back before either of you lets go. The silences between you grow comfortable, thick with something that isn’t quite tension but feels like possibility.

Sometimes, when you're standing close—talking over a screen or laughing at something ridiculous—you feel the light touch of his hand against your lower back, subtle and grounding. Other times, it’s his shoulder brushing yours when you lean in to read something on his tablet, his pinky finger twitching just enough to graze yours on the armrest.

None of it is overwhelming. It's slow, natural, soft. So soft, it almost doesn’t feel like change—until you realize how much you’ve started waiting for it.

The late nights at the studio become your thing. After the building clears out and the chaos dies down, you find yourselves drifting back there, like gravity pulling you both to the same point. At first, you pretended it was work—consulting on PR angles, previewing content together. But now you both know it’s not about that. Not really.

He plays you snippets of unfinished songs. You tell him stories from your day, things that made you laugh or pissed you off. Sometimes you do nothing but sit side by side on the couch, phones forgotten in your laps, the silence wrapping around you like a blanket.

One night, it’s raining hard outside—steady and rhythmic, tapping against the windows like it’s part of the melody playing through his speakers. You’re curled up at one end of the studio couch, legs tucked under you, your head resting on the cushion. He’s sitting beside you, close, close enough that his warmth bleeds into your skin.

You're not even sure when the closeness shifts into something else.

You must’ve been talking. Or maybe you weren’t. But at some point, your head ends up on his shoulder. And then he leans his head against yours. And when your eyes finally flutter closed, lulled by the steady sound of rain and the softness of his voice humming under his breath—you don’t pull away.

Neither does he.

You wake up hours later, disoriented by the soft hum of monitors and the ache in your neck. The studio lights are low, casting a warm glow over everything. You’re curled into Jisung’s side now, both of you on your sides, his arm loosely wrapped around your waist, your hand resting on his chest.

He’s still asleep, breathing steady, lashes fluttering just slightly like he’s dreaming something good.

And for a second, you just watch him. Really watch him.

The boy you barely noticed back then—quiet, awkward, too shy to speak in front of strangers—is now the man holding you like you’ve always belonged there. You wonder how many moments like this you missed by not looking up back then. How much warmth you overlooked because you were too caught up in your own world to see what was quietly blooming right beside you.

Your fingers twitch against his chest.

Maybe this isn’t where the story ends—or even begins. Maybe this is the middle. The part where everything starts to change, not with fireworks or declarations, but with one quiet night. Two people. And the slow, gentle rhythm of falling into something that feels dangerously close to love.

The soft light of morning creeps in through the narrow studio windows, pale and hazy, casting sleepy golden streaks across the scattered notebooks and empty coffee cups. You blink awake slowly, head heavy with sleep, and the first thing you register is warmth. Steady, solid warmth.

You shift slightly—and freeze.

You’re curled into Jisung’s chest, his arm still wrapped around you protectively, like his body didn’t get the memo that the night is over. His hoodie smells like fabric softener and faint cologne. His fingers twitch slightly against your waist, like even in sleep, he doesn’t want to let go. You glance up. His eyes are cracked open, bleary and still half-lost in a dream. When he realizes you're awake, he stiffens—just a bit.

“Morning,” you whisper, your voice hoarse.

He swallows. “Hi.”

Neither of you moves. The silence stretches, not uncomfortable, just full of words that neither of you know how to say yet.

“I didn’t mean to—” he starts, then winces. “Well, I did mean to fall asleep, just not… like this. I mean—uh—not that I’m complaining! Or that it was bad! I just—sleep is important, you know? And this couch is surprisingly comfortable, which is probably why—”

“Jisung.”

He shuts up immediately.

You shift slightly, propping yourself on your elbow. “Are we gonna pretend that didn’t happen?”

His eyes search yours, uncertain. “Do you want to pretend?”

You hesitate.

“No,” you admit quietly. “But I don’t know what it was.”

He nods, mouth pressed in a tight line. “Yeah. Same.”

Another beat of silence.

“I mean,” he continues, rubbing the back of his neck, “I didn’t… plan to fall asleep holding you like some rom-com lead, but also… I didn’t hate it. Like, at all.”

You huff a laugh. “Yeah, I noticed.”

“Okay, rude,” he mutters, but there’s a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “But fair.”

You sit up slowly, stretching your legs. “I think we’re both confused.”

“Confused is my permanent state,” he mutters under his breath, then louder: “But yeah. I just— It’s weird, because it’s not like I’ve had this whole plan or something. I just... like being around you. A lot. More than I should, maybe.”

That softens something in your chest.

You nod slowly. “And I think... I like it, too. You. Being around you. But I also—this wasn’t supposed to happen. Not now. Not like this.”

“I know,” he says, quieter now. “But it did.”

You meet his gaze and suddenly it feels heavy again—not in a bad way, but in the way that makes you aware of every inch between you, every quiet thing unsaid.

“So what do we do?” you ask.

He shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know. Maybe… we just keep doing what we’re doing? No pressure, no labels. Just… seeing where it goes?”

You watch him for a moment. His messy hair, the sleep still clinging to his lashes, the vulnerability in his eyes.

You nod. “Okay. We’ll see.”

He lets out a breath like he’s been holding it the whole night. “Cool. Yeah. That works. I’m good at casual. Super casual. Like—flannel shirt casual. Or slippers and cereal casual.”

You laugh again, warm and real. “You’re a disaster.”

“And yet, here I am,” he grins, standing up and stretching his arms. “Charming disaster. Patent pending.”

You roll your eyes, but the fondness in your chest is impossible to deny. As he offers you his hand to help you up, you realize you're still not entirely sure what’s happening between you two. But maybe, for now, that’s enough.

You try to act normal.

Really, you do. You keep your expression unreadable, posture relaxed, voice calm as you scroll through the draft PR schedule on your tablet. Han sits across the table in the conference room with the rest of the members, nodding along to whatever Bang Chan is explaining—but you can feel it.

That awareness.

The air feels... different. Heavy in the space between you, like everyone else is swimming through water while the two of you are tethered by an invisible string.

You haven’t even made eye contact yet, and still—your skin prickles with the memory of his arm wrapped around you the night before, the soft way he’d looked at you when he thought you weren’t watching.

You shift in your seat, pretending to adjust your tablet. His foot accidentally nudges yours under the table.

You freeze. He does, too. Then he slowly, very slowly pulls away, like he’s defusing a bomb.

Bang Chan’s voice cuts through the weird tension in your head. “So that’s the plan for the next two weeks. Any questions?”

The table remains quiet.

“No? Cool. Thanks for joining, everyone.”

The room bursts into motion—papers shuffling, chairs scraping, conversation picking up.

You gather your things quickly, hoping to escape without incident. But then—

“Hey,” Chan says softly. Too softly. You glance up to find him watching you. His tone is casual, but his eyes aren’t. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

You hesitate. Han glances up too, subtly alert.

“Of course,” you say, smiling like this isn’t mildly terrifying.

He waits until the room has cleared before speaking. Not accusingly, not even cold—just… leader-mode. Thoughtful. Quietly concerned.

“I just want to check in,” he says. “About you and Han.”

Your stomach tightens.

“There’s nothing going on,” you say automatically, maybe a little too quickly.

Chan raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t call you out.

“Okay. I believe you,” he says, and he probably does. Mostly. “But I also see things. Jisung doesn’t let people in easily. He jokes, flirts, plays around, but real closeness? That’s rare with him. And it’s happening. With you.”

You look away.

“I’m not mad,” he adds quickly. “Just… making sure you know. Because if this turns into something more, it’s not just you who’s affected. It’s him. It’s all of us.”

“I do know,” you say quietly. “And I would never do anything to hurt him. Or your group.”

He studies you for a moment, then nods. “I trust that. I just hope you’re both being honest—with yourselves, and each other.”

You manage a small smile. “We’re trying.”

He gives a soft chuckle, then rubs the back of his neck. “Alright. Now get out of here before I start sounding like a dad.”

You laugh and nod, turning to leave—

—only to nearly collide with Han waiting just outside the door, his hands in his pockets, pretending to admire a crack in the wall like it’s a masterpiece.

You blink. “Were you… eavesdropping?”

“No!” he says quickly. “I was… standing. Nearby. And hearing. Coincidentally.”

You sigh. He glances toward the office behind you. “Chan give you the ‘don’t break my members’ hearts’ talk?”

“Kind of,” you mutter. “Less dramatic. More dad energy.”

Han grins, then bumps your shoulder with his. “You okay?”

You nod. “Are you?”

“Me?” he asks, eyes wide. “I’m great. Except I might pass out from how awkward that whole thing was.”

You chuckle.

“Hey,” he says again, this time softer. “We’re still good, right? Like... us?”

Your heart thuds. Slowly, you smile. “Yeah. We’re good.” For now.

Schedules shift.

Suddenly, the easy rhythm you and Jisung had found — the morning check-ins, late-night studio rambling, quiet glances over coffee — all begin to fade, smothered beneath the weight of Stray Kids' comeback prep.

The tension starts subtly. Fewer messages. Shorter replies. A missed lunch here, a forgotten inside joke there. You try not to take it personally. You know how this works. You’ve worked with idols before. Comeback seasons are brutal — rehearsals, recordings, performances, content shoots — every second of their day becomes pre-packaged and consumed by the machine.

But still, it stings.

Especially when you pass him in the hall and his eyes barely lift from the floor.

It’s not just you he’s pulling away from. You notice it in the way the members glance at him, quiet concern flickering between them. Chan’s brow is always furrowed these days. Hyunjin’s usual teasing toward Han has softened into wordless pats on the shoulder. And you — well, you remember the conversation Jisung once had with you late one night in the studio, sitting cross-legged on the floor with takeout between you.

“I don’t always know how to ask for space,” he had admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “Sometimes I disappear instead. I know it sucks. But it’s not because I want to push people away. It’s because I’m scared if I don’t, I’ll fall apart with them watching.”

You hadn’t fully understood then. You do now. Because now he’s disappearing — not just emotionally, but physically too. He practically lives in the studio, his messages unread, the space where his presence used to sit in your day now hollow. And you feel it.

Not just the absence of his coffee deliveries or dumb puns or warm hugs — but him. The way he made the world feel softer when he was around. Like you weren’t alone in your own spirals.

You pass by the studio late one evening, and through the tiny rectangular window, you catch a glimpse of him. He’s hunched over the desk, headphones on, hair a mess, his leg bouncing rapidly as he re-records a line for the third, maybe fourth time. Frustration is written all over his face.

You don’t knock. Because you know he won’t hear it. Or he’ll pretend not to. Instead, you linger for just a second longer, remembering how easy things felt when he used to wave at you through that very window, silly grin and all. And now? Now, the silence between you is starting to echo louder than anything either of you had the courage to say.

The hallway is quiet — too quiet — except for the static buzz in Jisung’s ears, the kind that comes when exhaustion bleeds into something darker. He drags his hoodie up over his head, eyes unfocused, shoulders hunched as he rounds the corner.

That’s when he sees you.

You’re standing by the vending machine with Changbin, your heads tilted close together, talking in low voices. You're smiling — not wide, not beaming — but soft, gentle. The kind of smile Jisung used to get. The one that made his stomach twist in that way that felt like home and chaos at the same time.

He can’t hear what you’re saying, but he doesn’t have to. His brain, heavy with anxiety and lack of sleep, fills in the blanks. Changbin is funny. He's stable. He’s good with people. And you — you’re beautiful and kind and warm and there. The static in his head becomes a roar. Of course you’re moving on. Why wouldn’t you? Of course someone like Changbin would make you laugh. Of course someone like Jisung, who shuts down and disappears the moment life tilts a little, could never hold your attention for long.

He watches you place a hand gently on Changbin’s arm, brows furrowed in something that looks like concern, and it burns. Jealousy, shame, heartbreak — all in one sharp, unbearable flash.

He turns on his heel before either of you spot him and bolts. Down the hallway, past the practice rooms, through the stairwell — anywhere that isn't here.

He doesn’t stop until the city lights blur around him, and his phone buzzes endlessly in his pocket — texts from Chan, calls from Minho, your name flashing on screen — and he ignores them all.

He needs air. He needs time. He needs less.

Meanwhile, back in the building, panic starts to ripple.

“He’s not in the studio?” Chan asks, already pulling out his phone.

“No. I checked the dance rooms too,” Seungmin says. “Nothing.”

You step back, heart hammering in your chest. “He—he saw me and Changbin. Do you think…?”

Chan’s eyes narrow. “Saw you doing what?”

“We were talking about him,” you say quickly, guilt washing over you. “I was trying to ask for advice. I just—I didn’t know how to help him without making him feel cornered.”

Changbin nods. “We weren’t exactly being subtle. He probably jumped to the worst conclusion.”

“And now he’s out there alone, spiraling,” Chan mutters, already dialing. “Damn it, Jisung.”

Jisung leans against the cold brick wall outside, the night pressing in around him like a suffocating blanket. His phone vibrates relentlessly in his pocket, but he’s too numb to answer. Instead, he pulls it out and scrolls through the flood of missed calls and messages. One notification catches his eye — a voicemail from you.

His thumb hovers over the play button. Curiosity and guilt war inside him. He’s scared of what he might hear, but he can’t stop himself. He presses play.

Your voice trembles through the speaker, raw and fragile, tears audible between your words.

“Jisung, please… I know you want to be found. And if it’s not by me, then… then fine, I won’t come. But at least let someone know where you are, and if you’re okay. Please, I’m begging you.”

His chest tightens, heart pounding with a sudden ache he can’t ignore. He hates that you’re hurting because of him. That he’s left you worried, scared, alone in the dark.

The walls he’s built start to crack.

After a long pause, he unlocks his phone, his fingers trembling as he taps “Share Location.” The screen fills with the blue glow of the map pinpointing where he is. His breath catches. He sends it. Almost instantly, his phone buzzes with a reply from you.

On my way.

For the first time in hours, Jisung feels a flicker of warmth amid the cold night — a fragile thread tethering him back.

You find him sitting alone on the concrete ledge under the Han River bridge, the city lights shimmering on the water’s surface. His shoulders are slumped, eyes fixed on the ripples below, the weight of hours lost heavy in the air between you.

You sit down beside him, careful not to break the fragile silence. The night hums softly around you—cars passing on the bridge above, distant laughter carried by the wind. Neither of you speaks at first.

After a few minutes, Jisung pulls his phone from his pocket, hesitating like he’s about to reveal something deeply personal. He taps on his music app, then presses play. A soft beat fills the quiet, steady and raw.

Then, almost shyly, he begins to sing:

"You can burst into flames, you can wound me next to you If you like, I can be anything Yeah, you can hurt me, I don't care, yeah, you can burn me Unlike those who run away from you, I'll embrace you...”

His voice is low, slightly rough but filled with emotion, each word trembling with meaning you hadn’t realized was there before. You watch his lips move, mesmerized by the vulnerability in the song.

“Like a volcano Love at a temperature that can melt when touched Take me to you, way below to the end of the ground It's okay if everything burns down Even if I go back hundreds of times, my choice is always... you.”

The words echo softly beneath the bridge, and for a moment, the noisy city feels miles away. You feel your chest tighten—not just from the beauty of the song but from the unspoken connection blooming between you both.

When the last note fades, he glances at you, cheeks flushed with embarrassment but eyes hopeful.

You reach out, gently brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead.

“You’re amazing, Jisung.”

He gives you a small, grateful smile, the weight on his shoulders seeming a little lighter now.

You take a deep breath, the cool night air filling your lungs as you gather your thoughts. His eyes stay fixed on you, patient and curious, waiting.

“Jisung,” you begin softly, voice steady despite the flutter in your chest. “I… I think I was blind before. Back in school, I didn’t see you. Not really. I was so caught up in my own world, in my own noise, that I missed what was right in front of me.”

You glance down for a moment, then meet his eyes again, earnest and open. “You could have been someone to love all along. And I’m sorry it took me this long to realize it. I never meant to overlook you, or to make you feel small or invisible.”

Your hand reaches out slowly, hesitating just a second before grabbing his hand and intertwining your fingers together. “I want you to know — I have no intention of hurting you. No matter how complicated this is, I would never burn you, or run away. I want to be someone you can trust, someone who stays.”

You pause, searching his face for a sign, a flicker of what you hope to find.

He swallows hard, a shy smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Thank you,” he murmurs, voice low and sincere. “That means more than you know.”

The night wraps around you both like a quiet secret, the world hushed under the bridge. Your fingers brush his arm, and Jisung’s eyes search yours with a fierce, hopeful light.

He leans in slowly, but as your lips almost meet, he bumps his forehead against yours with a soft thud.

“Ah, ouch,” he murmurs, rubbing his forehead and giving you a sheepish, yet proud grin. “Smooth move, right?”

You laugh, the tension breaking like a gentle wave. “Definitely unforgettable.”

With a shy but determined nod, he tries again. This time, the kiss is soft, sweet, and a little awkward — but so real, so full of all the feelings he’s been holding back.

When you pull apart, his cheeks are flushed, but his eyes shine with pride and something more — love.

“I’m not just saying this lightly,” he breathes, voice steady, heart wide open. “I’m in love with you. I have been for a while now, and I’m proud of it. So... will you be my girlfriend?”

You smile, your heart swelling with warmth and something new — the recognition of what you almost missed before.

“Yes,” you whisper, “I’d love that.”

His grin stretches wider than ever, and he pulls you close for another, longer kiss — this time, perfectly imperfect, and just the beginning of everything. After you say yes, Jisung’s grin turns mischievous, eyes sparkling with that trademark cheeky confidence.

He pulls you into a quick hug, whispering loud enough for you to hear and maybe the whole riverbank too, “You’re officially mine now. Sorry, Changbin — you can go to hell.”

You laugh, raising an eyebrow. “Wow, confident much?”

He smirks, puffing out his chest like a knight ready for battle. “Of course! Jealousy is just my version of chivalry. Protecting what’s mine.”

You shake your head, smiling. “You’re such a goofball.”

“Hey, I’m your goofball now. Deal with it.”

And with that, he squeezes your hand like a prize, and you both walk off under the soft glow of the city lights, ready for whatever comes next, together.

From his bandmates' perspective, Jisung becomes insufferable in the following days. He can't stop talking about how he's finally got you, how perfect you are, and how glad he is to finally be able to call you his girlfriend. The boys relentlessly made fun of him, but he couldn't care less.

You push open the door to the dance studio, the faint thump of music and the scrape of sneakers on the floor reaching your ears. The room is alive with energy—Stray Kids mid-rehearsal, muscles moving in sync.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, you spot him.

Han Jisung.

The moment he sees you, his entire body lights up like a sparkler on a summer night. He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, eyes wide, grin impossibly bright.

“Hey! You’re here!” he shouts, nearly tripping over himself as he rushes toward you.

You barely have time to step inside before he’s practically glued to your side, his arm wrapping around your waist like he never wants to let go.

“I missed you all day! Like, seriously, it was torture,” he whines, voice dropping to a mock-serious tone. “I’m not even kidding. I think I might have turned into a sad puppy or something.”

The other members pause their practice, exchanging amused looks. Bang Chan raises an eyebrow, grinning.

“Oh, look at Jisung! The cling monster’s back,” Chan teases, smirking at you. “We were starting to think you vanished for good.”

Changbin joins in, chuckling, “Yeah, we were worried he’d become a hermit again. Glad you showed up before that happened.”

You laugh, shaking your head at their playful ribbing. Jisung, still hanging on your arm, leans in and whispers, “See? Even they know I need my protector. Someone who won’t hurt me.”

You squeeze his hand gently. “I’m not going anywhere, Jisung.”

He beams up at you, the glow of happiness practically radiating off him. The group starts to warm back into their rehearsal, but the mood is lighter, softer—like a fresh breeze after a storm. You glance around at the boys who have become a second family to him—and now, to you—and feel a swell of gratitude. They tease and joke, but beneath it all, you know they’re genuinely glad to see their friend this happy again.

The ways of love are strange—no doubt about that. Sometimes, all it takes is a single glance, and everything changes in an instant. But other times, love grows quietly, almost unnoticed, in the small moments between breaths and words.

Between stolen glances and gentle touches, in laughter shared beneath dim studio lights, and in the silence of a midnight cityscape.

It’s the slow-burning flame, the volcano that rumbles softly before bursting to life, raw and unstoppable.

You realize now that love isn’t always a blinding flash—it can be the quiet spark that finally catches fire, warm and fierce, lighting up everything you never saw before.

And as you look at him—his smile a little crooked, eyes bright and steady like boba—you know that this love, patient and true, is the one worth holding on to.

Because sometimes, the most extraordinary kind of magic is the kind that grows quietly, right beside you, waiting for you to notice.

And in that noticing, everything shifts.

Everything changes.

Everything becomes home.

157 notes · View notes

eraenaa · 1 year ago

Text

So High School

Inspired by the song "So High School" by Taylor Swift

Athlete Rafe Cameron x Scholarly Reader Tag List

Summary: He knows how to ball, you know Aristotle

Warnings: Jealousy, Dry-Humping, Fluff, Not Proofread

Word Count: 4,638

A/N: Re-upload because I wanted to add a bit of spice and a few more elements inspired by the song. And I wanted to clarify that the Rafe here is heavily inspired by Zach Maclaren

You’ve never considered yourself as a cliche. You did love to read, watch, and think about cliches, you would sigh longingly when you see the differing variations be reproduced in media. The kisses in the rain, the jocks getting with the nerds, the popular girls kissing the geeky boys. All of them were great in theory, but you could never see yourself taking part in one of them. Not until you met him. Rafe Cameron.

You’ve never had a high school romance, nothing that even resembled it. If you recall your high school days, nothing remote to a teenage romance was achieved. You went to balls without a date, only the company of your friends; no flings were made nor ambiguous relationships achieved and could be added to your trophy case. You were not even certain you had a crush— sure, you would find someone attractive, but not so much that you would look forward each day to seeing them in the halls or classroom. It sounds horrid and sad now that you say it out loud or when you share it with any of your uni friends, but you truly did not mind. You were just not destined to have a high school romance.

In truth, you preferred it that way. You’d rather avoid immature attachments. The shallow jealousy and petty fights you had witnessed over and over again. However, you were always curious about how they felt. How did it feel to look forward to going to school to see the one you liked or even loved? How did it feel to be a blushing mess just because they glanced back at you? What did it feel like to hold the person you wanted’s hand as you walked down the hall? What was it like to have your friends tease you for being so love-struck that it went straight to your heads? How does it feel to be down bad for someone while still being filled with the naivety of youth? But you suppose you don’t have to wonder at all anymore. The cliche things they say in the movies; your stomach filled with butterflies, your heart pounding hard on your chest, your skin tingling with electricity— you thought were just exaggerated reactions, romanticizing further the romances they produce, but they were right. Those are the exact things you felt with Rafe.

You never saw him coming. He was an exchange student from the States, admitted into your university’s football team. He was a few years older, but with his commitment to the sport, he was taken back a few years and started off in the second year. He was your seatmate on the third day of class of the term. He took a seat by your right and sheepishly asked you for a pen at the start of the lecture. You were set to mind your own business, lend him the pen, and focus on the lecture, but you could not help but notice him leaning closer to you, trying to copy down the notes you typed furiously on your laptop. You thought twice before you decided to be a good samaritan, shifting your laptop screen more clearly toward his view.

You tried not to get in between him and the professor as he was grilled to answer a question about Aristotle’s Poetics, the whole class’ eyes upon him as he stuttered and flailed to answer the lecturer’s question. You sighed and bit your lip, quickly typing up the answer as he was being shamed by your professor for not doing the readings. You tugged at the hem of his shirt, motioning for him to look at the screen and recite out loud the answer you had written. “Thank you,” Rafe whispered, leaning closer to you, who saved him from further embarrassment. You just nodded, but Rafe did not return to his place; he kept the rather close proximity of the both of you for the rest of the class. You just took his actions as his way of copying more of your notes.

When the class ended, you quickly gathered your things and tried to exit the lecture hall, but Rafe blocked your way. “I’m Rafe, by the way,” he introduced himself, letting out his hand for you to shake. You did, and he swore he felt electricity at your touch; you, too had felt it but mistook it for static. You quickly introduced yourself and tried to sidestep to get to your next class, but he was quick to block you again. “I just wanted to say thank you again,” Rafe said, trying to catch your eye, but it kept flying towards the door. You flash him a small and almost forced smile, “It’s just recitation. It’s no problem.” You said and finally looked him in the eyes. You felt your heart stutter at the smile that crossed his lips, and you once again mistook it for something else, anxiety, perhaps that you might be late to your next class that was all the way on the other side of the campus in a building without an elevator and your classroom conveniently placed on the top floor.

That was when you noticed that Rafe had still not let go of your hand, nor did he have the intention of letting you go too quickly. “I’m sorry, not to be rude or anything, but I really have to go to my next class,” you say, the tone of your voice a bit frantic so he’d buy into the guilt and finally let go of your hand. Rafe bit his tongue to prevent a grin from slipping his lips; you had the most melodious voice and the most adorable accent he heard while he stayed in your country. “Yeah, no problem… see you next week,” Rafe finally unblocked your path and let go of your hand, watching as you hastily walked out of the classroom, leaving him grinning at himself like a fool.

You were walking down the halls of your university the next day. Your headphones covered your ears and made you a tad oblivious to the surroundings around you. Rafe caught you by the side of his eye, and quickly ended the conversation he was having with his friends to get to you. He was calling your name, avoiding the sea of students who were venturing to their next class. Everyone’s head turned to him, their attention on him as he called for you, but you were oblivious to him. Rafe finally caught up behind you, grabbing the headband of your headphones to finally get your attention. You yelped in surprise at the sudden actions, turning behind you, ready to take the blow of your attacker, but you were only met with Rafe, who had an amused grin by our wide-eyed and startled state.

You breathe out a quiet sigh of relief when you realize it was not a complete stranger who had done that abrupt and rather rude action. You watch with a slight furrow in your brow as Rafe wears your headphones, momentarily listening to the song you were listening to. “What is this?” He asked with a confused look, “Patti Smith,” You answered as he returned to you your headphones. “Never heard of him,” Rafe shrugged, and you bit your tongue, “He’s a she,” You said and looked around the corridor only to realize that the two of you stood by the middle of it. Earning curious and even annoyed glances from other students because you and Rafe obstructed the pathway. You stepped to the side, and Rafe followed; you looked up at him in curiosity, “Did you need something?” You asked, wanting an explanation from him for startling you in the middle of the hallway.

“I…” Rafe trailed, not truly having a concrete reason for calling for you. “Uh… where are you going?” He asked instead, and you felt your brows twitch into a quick frown before you recomposed your expression. “The library,” you say, and he nods. “Come on, then,” He said, taking hold of the handle of your shoulder bag and carrying it for you. Your lips agape, not at all certain what is happening; you watch him walk a few steps forward, but he stops in his tracks and turns to you. “You might wanna lead the way; I’m kinda new here,” You bit your lip as you wanted to laugh. You nodded, and the two of you walked side by side on the way to the library.

“What’s your degree?” You asked him as you walked through the hallowed halls of your university. Rafe still carried your bag, and you could not help but notice the curious glances pointed at the two of you. “Finance,” you nodded but grew rather curious as to what he was doing in your literature class, so you then proceeded to ask him the question swirling in your mind. “Oh… I ran out of units; either I take that class or be underloaded,” he shrugged and opened the door of the library for you. “So you have no idea nor interest about what we were talking about the other day?” You asked and felt your stomach weirdly twist when he pulled out the chair for you and assisted you to sit. “Not really, no,” He said and took a seat across from you. “Thanks again, by the way, for giving me the answer,” Rafe said in gratitude once more. You flashed a quick smile and took your bag from him, taking out the readings for your other class. It took a few minutes of you reading your course material before you realized that Rafe was just sitting there, watching you. “Don’t you have any requirements to do?” You asked him, eyes locking with clear ocean blue ones. “Nope,” he shook his head, his lips popping the ‘p.’

“Then what are you doing here…?” You asked. Rafe refrained from letting his grin turn wider. He just shrugged and watched you furrow your brows; a cute little pout of confusion appeared on your lips. He was uncertain if you were truly oblivious or just pretending to be. What was supposed to be a productive day of reading and staying above your requirements turned into a day of laughing fits and jokes. You both tried to stifle your laughs caused by your random conversations and anecdotes, but it was proven impossible, resulting in both of you being ushered out of the library. “Oh god—“ You laughed as you recalled the stern look of the librarian as they pushed you and Rafe out. In other circumstances, you might have died in embarrassment for having to be escorted out of the library, but somehow, right now, you felt thrilled.

Rafe watched you as your laughs died down. His gaze studied the crinkle on your nose and the sides of your eyes, the way you would bite down on your lip to stifle them, but it would be to no avail because your melodious laughs still blessed his ears. “Do you want to go to grab lunch?” Rafe suddenly asked, and your laughs finally halted. You looked up at him, his expecting gaze on you, hopefulness in his ocean-blue eyes that you could not shatter. You smiled and nodded, your heart stuttering when he took the bag on your shoulder once more. His warm hand brushes with your skin, causing a jolt of electricity in you that you never thought could happen. You followed him out of campus, your mind in a hazy battlefield as to where this was leading.

You bit your lip as Rafe waved at you during their practice; you could barely make out his face through the obstruction of his helmet, but you would guess there was a boyish grin on his lips. It had been a week since the incident in the library, and quickly after that, you two found a deeper understanding between each other. You realize the cliche they insisted upon that said ‘you'll find love when you least expect it’ was quite true. You never expect to meet anyone like Rafe.

“There you are,” you hear your friend arrive, having him see you on the football field because he needed to brow your notes for a class. “What are you even doing here? I practically had to drag you here the last time I wanted to watch a game,” He asked in deep confusion, entirely uncharacteristic of you to be by the field. “Uhm…” you trailed, not having told him about Rafe yet. “I met someone,” You started, watching as his eyes grew wide in surprise. “A player?” He asked, and you nodded, “Which one?” He asked in great interest. You squinted your eyes and looked for Rafe’s number, not wanting to have to point. “The one from the States!? You’re dating a Yank?” He asked as if it was a scandal. “A Yank? Seriously? They’ve stopped calling Americans that for almost a century,” You said, trying not to laugh.

Rafe turned to you, surprised you were no longer alone on the benches. Instead, you were laughing along with some dude who sat a bit closer to you. It made him rather… curious. A good alternative feeling as he did not want to overstep with his emotions and admit to himself that he was quick to grow jealous. “Hey, good game, mate,” Rafe’s teammate complimented and clapped his back, and he returned the compliment, but he could not help but notice that his teammate’s gaze was flying over to you. “What is it?” Rafe asked as he removed his gloves, "Are you… with her?” He asked hesitantly, and Rafe turned to you, who was still enveloped in conversation with the man who was a stranger to him.

“Yes.” He said even though it was too soon and neither of you had a discussion about where the week of dates you two went on would lead. Rafe watched as his teammate’s brows shot up in surprise. “Do you know her?” Rafe asked, and his teammate nodded. “Yeah, I went to secondary school with her,” He said, and Rafe was in the midst of thinking another question to ask when his teammate spoke once more. “Good luck to you; the word is she has very high standards. A bit stuck up if you ask the other lads in our school.” His teammate and Rafe frowned in confusion. “What?” He asked, “Yeah. She was notorious in our school for being the girl no one could get. A lot of blokes fancied her rotten, but not once did she pay them mind. She was never in any relationships or flings, for that matter— and if I remember correctly, she did not even take a date to the balls.” Rafe’s teammate explained, his gaze flying to you, remembering how the boys at your school would always follow you around or try to get your attention, but you’ve always ignored them. “Anyway, congrats to you, I guess. Never knew her type were Yanks,” Rafe heard his teammate mutter and once again clapped his back before leaving.

You turn away from your friend as you hear Rafe approaching, flashing him your beaming smile that you only bestowed upon the most deserving of people. You’ve only known him a week, but you felt that your genuine smile was made to be pointed at him and as well be caused by him. “You ready to go?” Rafe asked, ignoring the presence of the guy who sat next to you because he knew himself, and if he acknowledged the guy next to you, his jealousy might shine through. “Uh… yeah, this is my friend, by the way,” You say as you see Rafe was a bit reserved at the moment. “Hey,” your friend greeted and stretched out his hand for Rafe to shake, “Hey,” he muttered and barely turned to your friend. There was a pause of steely, awkward silence that you were not certain the cause of. “I’m gonna go… thanks for the notes,” Your friend quickly excused himself, and you turned to Rafe. “Are you okay?” You asked, and you heard him let out a grieved exhale. “Uh, yeah, just tired,” he fibbed, not wanting to bring out the subject of his jealousy that was quick to stew.

“Oh, that’s a pity. My friend you’ve just met— he and his boyfriend are throwing a party tonight and I was gonna ask you if you wanted to come. But if you need to rest, that’s completely fine,” You said and watched as his lips agape slightly, “He… he has a boyfriend?” He asked slowly, realizing his jealousy was completely out of place. “Erm, yeah, why?” You asked and found it odd how the almost grumpy expression on his face quickly turned into a smile. “Nothing. Of course I’ll come with you to the party,” Rafe smiled and draped his arm around your shoulder as you two walked off the stands.

You came to the party with the thought that perhaps you could help Rafe mingle with the others in your year. He could find other friends in this foreign land, but as cliche as it was, you two were lost in each other. Everything faded, and all the two of you could focus on was each other. It was later in the night when you and Rafe’s close proximity was interrupted by your friend. “Come on, we’re going to play spin the bottle,” Your friend pulled at you, who reluctantly stood and stepped away from Rafe. “Spin the bottle? Isn’t that a bit juvenile?” You asked as you were forced to sit on the floor; Rafe was being led by your friend’s significant other to sit across from you. He flashed you his charming smile. You bit your tongue to not let the giddiness in you shine through.

“Rules first,” Your friend replied. “As always, whoever the bottle lands to, you must kiss that person, but if you do not want to, you can play for truth or dare. Your friend says, and all in the circle nod. “Okay then. Who goes first?” Rafe asked, and you turned to your friend, “Well, seeing you are the guest here in our lovely land, you get the honor to go first,” Rafe shrugged and smirked, leaning forward to spin the bottle and prayed that it would land on you, it didn’t. You turned to where the bottle pointed to a girl from your secondary school who licked her lips and looked positively excited at the prospect of kissing Rafe. You bit your lip and sat quietly in your seat, making sure that your face was rid of any reaction.

Rafe warily shifted his gaze between you and the girl, “I’ll do a truth,” he announced and saw from the corner of his eyes as the strange girl pouted and her shoulders deflated in rejection. “A truth it is,” Your friend said; there was a quick silence whilst he thought of a question. “Why did you choose truth?” They asked Rafe, and you fiddled with your fingers, raising your gaze towards the boy you had been seeing for the past week but had no label to call him. “Just… just didn’t want a kiss,” He shrugged, his gaze flying to you, who quickly avoided his. “Okay then, next,” Your friend said, and you waited for your turn, already knowing in yourself you’d skip the kiss part if it did not land on Rafe.

“Truth or dare?” You were asked and paused for a moment. Usually, you would quickly pick ‘truth’, not having the nerves to choose the other option, but somehow, right now, you were leaning towards picking ‘dare’, so that is what you had done. You hear ‘oohs’ from your friends, surprised by your boldness. “Dare, then. Okay… I dare you to kiss the person you fancy in this circle the most,” Someone cruelly said, and your eyes widened, cheeks blooming with color as you quickly regretted your choice. “No! I chose ‘dare’ to skip the kissing part! That’s unfair,” You countered, but they only shrugged and replied with “Rules are rules,”

You pursed your lips and looked around the circle. You already knew who you wanted to kiss, but you lacked the courage to do so. “Okay, everyone, close your eyes, and you pick who you want to kiss,” Your friend decided, showing you kindness, for he knew that the situation was quite too much for you. Rafe chewed on his cheeks, heart beating loudly in his chest, praying to anyone who would hear that you would choose him.

You took a deep breath and glanced as everyone had their eyes closed. You gathered whatever courage and nerve you had to stand from your seat and lean closer to Rafe. Admiring his handsome face for a moment before placing a quick, chaste kiss at the corner of his lips. You feel him twitch in surprise, and you quickly return to your seat as he opens his ocean-blue eyes. His lips were agape in shock, and he was being tugged into a wide smile that showcased his dimples. His eyes crinkled as he beamed at you, filled with romantic giddiness. The game went through a few more rounds until everyone eventually got bored, and you and Rafe were left in each other’s company once more.

The music was blaring; the chatter was loud, but not a single noise was heard by the two of you as you had been enveloped in conversation. You quickly grew entranced by how random your topics were. It could be a deep, philosophical engagement, one where you were both perplexed and engrossed by the subject, then the next, you were clutching your stomach because you were laughing so hard at one of his jokes.

“Where’d everybody go?” Rafe suddenly asked as he reluctantly rested his gaze on anything else other than you. Your lips agape as you saw the flat was cleared out, the remnants of the party and the mess it caused still present but not those who had caused it. You let out a bubbling laugh as you two were now the only ones present; not even the hosts of the party could be accounted for. “We should probably go home, huh,” You say, your eyes shifting between Rafe’s gaze and the floor that was riddled with confetti and spilled drinks. “Yeah, come on, I’ll walk you home,” He said as he stood, reaching out his hand for you to take as he assisted you to stand.

“Rafe,” You called as you two stood by the entrance of your flat. “Yes, pretty girl?” He asked with a grin, and you bit your lip to hinder yourself from grinning like a lovestruck fool. You took a deep breath before you spoke, “Not to sound so high school, but I… I really like you,” You confessed. You did not know how to relay how you felt seeing he was the first one to spur this type of giddiness in you. You gazed up at him, watching as his eyes twinkled with mirth and the smile on his lips widened. You held your breath as he leaned in and kissed your lips. It was a chaste kiss, just like the one earlier, but it was still capable of leaving you both grinning.

Your eyes alight with newfound affection as you and he stood below the pale moonlight. You sighed happily as Rafe placed his warm hand on your cheek, caressing your skin before ultimately leaning in to kiss you once more. A different, more fervent, and deeper kind of kiss than the first one shared. You feel your heart flutter and your body turn warm as his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you flush towards him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him downwards to your height, feeling him smirk against your lips.

When you parted for air, you bit your lip as a wide, cheek-aching smile spread upon it. “I think like you more,” He said against your lips. You knew it was a line, a cheesy one at that, but your stomach flipped in violent delight, and you stood on your toes to feel his lips against yours again. “Do… do you wanna go in?” You asked him as your lips parted again, your mind spinning from the way he kissed you and pulled on your waist. “Yes,” he said a bit too eagerly, the tips of his ears growing red a he realized the slight desperation in his voice, but you simply found it endearing.

When in the privacy of your flat, you grinned against Rafe’s lips as he gently pushed you against the wall, his large frame flushed against yours. Your fingers reached to run themselves through his hair as his hands on your waist strayed hesitantly higher. “You sighed as his lips moved to place kisses on your neck, “I hope you know I didn’t offer to walk you home for this,” Rafe sighed against your neck, breathing deeply your scent as his need for you bulged painfully in his jeans. “I know,” You smiled and whimpered as you felt him nip your skin.

You were not certain if you should warn him of the truth that you’ve never done anything such as this and that you have never reached this level of intimacy with anyone. But you swallowed the words as you feared you would run him away. You gasped as Rafe effortlessly hoisted you on his waist. Your mind spun as he deeply kissed you and led you to your sofa, him sitting on the cushion and you straddling his waist. You panted as you felt his need against your core.

Rafe swallowed thickly as he gazed at you, your lips swollen and eyes filled with need for him. “I… I don’t have protection,” He sheepishly, regrettably said, and you could blink. “Oh,” Was all you could say, uncertain if you should move from the position you both were in even though your body screamed for you to stay put. “I’m sorry, I—“ He started to speak, and you shook your head, “No, don’t be,” You rested your palm on his chest and felt the erratic beating of his heart, a rhythm that matched yours. Rafe took in a deep breath and lowered his gaze as if in shame; you chewed on your lip and spoke. “Maybe uhm… maybe we could do something else?”

“Like what?” He asked hesitantly; you couldn’t really verbalize your intent, so instead, you showed it to him. Rafe’s jaw slacked as you started to grind your hips, your core rubbing against his length. You hid your face in the crook of his neck and placed small kisses on his skin as you tried to stifle your sighs of pleasure.

Rafe’s hands found home at your rear, guiding and aiding your movements. Rafe let out a hiss as he felt himself quickly be led to climax. You finally vocalized your moans as you, too, were on the precipice of your peak; your hand moved to grip Rafe’s dark blonde locks as you came, calling his name. Rafe moved to take your face into his hands and intertwine your lips as he came undone, his seed spilling out in his trousers. He never thought he could come undone so harshly with ought actually being touched by someone.

When your lips parted, and the hazy want in you subsided, you grinned widely at Rafe, who let out an amused breath. The both of you stayed silent, but Rafe’s thoughts screamed loudly in his head. Would it be cliché of him to say that he had fallen so quickly? That seeing you in the lecture hall was love at first sight, and now, even only knowing you for only a short time, he knew you were the one.

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sheerfreesia007 · 2 months ago

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In Sickness & In Health

Pairing: Han Jisung x Reader

Word count: 2,180

Content warnings: Fluff

Summary: Han has always been your best friend ever since you were both little. But when you get sick and need his help getting your class notes and assignments your other friends clue Han into how attractive he is. But what happens when he asks you if you think he’s attractive?

A/N: Divider was created by @bernardsbendystraws, thank you for sharing your dividers with tumblr!

Hey Ji! I’ve got a cold and it’s really kicking my butt. I won’t be in class this week. Can you do me a favor and just let me copy your notes for the week? I’ll get with Iyo to get the notes for my other classes. Thanks Ji. I really appreciate it! That had been your text on Sunday, the two of you had been hanging out the day before and got caught in the rain on the way home. He had worriedly told you that you were probably going to get sick but you had reassured him that you would be okay. And lo and behold, he had been right. After getting your text he had quickly called you gently scolding you that he had been right and that you would get sick because of the rain, but when he heard how scratchy and hoarse your voice sounded he had felt bad about scolding you. So he had quickly told you to rest and try to get better, he’d take care of all of the notes for you and make sure you got all of your work and homework assignments as well.

You and Han had been best friends ever since you were kids, your parents had known each other way before either one of you had been born and had stayed close through the years. Even moving to the same town and same street to live, so your lives were intertwined completely and fully from a very early age. Han couldn’t imagine his life without you in it and he knew you felt the same way. The two of you were so close that the two of you move as if you’re one, you finish each other’s sentences, there’s almost an intuition when it comes to your relationship. Either one of you can tell when there’s something wrong or going on with the other one and already figuring it out or talking about it before the other realizes it.

And it was always so funny to Han that the two of you fit so well together because you were exact opposites of each other. He was anxious while you were unconcerned, you were outgoing while he took a while to warm up to people, he was a homebody while you were someone who enjoyed going out. He teased you that you were the peanut butter to his jelly and that was how your nicknames of PB and Ji-lly had formed.

The two of you were inseparable and Han preferred it that way, he was the more socially awkward one out of the two of you and relied heavily on you to help guide him through friendships. Han had always been into things that others found nerdy or geeky, anime, comic books, superheroes, and music. He had always been bullied for the things he liked and found pleasure in but you had never judged him, in fact you had tried to understand him and enjoy the same things he did. He loved that about you, you always had an open mind on everything you may not have understood it or enjoyed it as much as Han did but you always tried to. He was so grateful for your friendship that he would do anything for you.

Which is how he found himself taking meticulous notes for the two of you during your shared classes. The bell rings for the end of class and Han pushes up his round framed glasses as he finishes the last of the notes before stowing away his books in his backpack. Slipping his cell phone out of his pocket he sends a quick text to Iyo. Hey Iyo, can I swing by and grab the notes and assignments for PB? I’m going to stop by her place today and want to have everything ready for her. He waited until he got a response form her and then asked for her location so that he could swing by. With Iyo’s location Han quickly left the classroom preparing to get everything together for you before heading to your apartment.

The cafe is lively as Han enters it looking around for Iyo, she had mentioned that she’d be there with a few of your mutual friends on their break and that he could swing by and pick up the notes and work assignments she had for you. When he hears Iyo’s bright laughter he turns to find her sitting at a table in the middle of the cafe with your friends. Walking over they all slowly stop laughing and turn to face him with various greetings. Han shyly waves at them with a shaky smile slipping onto his face as he buries his hands in the front pocket of his hoodie.

”Hey Han!” Greets Iyo as she begins rummaging through her backpack to get all of the notes and assignments for him. “Have you talked to PB? Is she doing better?” Iyo asks curiously. “She hasn’t responded to me in a few hours.”

”Yeah I talked to her about an hour ago before my last class. She’s okay, still got a sore throat and feeling like crap but her fever broke this morning thankfully.” Han responded easily while smiling softly.

“Aww that’s really sweet of you to be keeping up with her while she’s sick.” One of your mutual friends mentions and Han nods his head at her as she smiles up at him.

”Yeah, you’re really a big sweetheart to her for helping her out like this.” Another chimes in and Han starts to feel a little self conscious of their praise of him. He shifts on his feet anxiously and Iyo looks up at him with a soft frown directed at her friends.

”Guys, enough.” Iyo scolded them and they all giggled as they leaned into each other.

”I mean if I had such a hot best friend like Han I wouldn’t let him go without trying to be with him.” Another friend spoke up and Han turned his head sharply to stare at them with wide eyes as the table dissolved into giggles again and Iyo rolled her eyes at them.

”Ignore them Han. They’re just jealous.” Iyo tried to explain their words and behavior away and Han just nodded his head quickly before taking the folder that she held out to him.

”Jealous of what?” Han asked curiosity getting the best of him and not being able to let it go until he knew what she meant.

”Of PB having a hot best friend who’s too sweet for her.” One of the friends said and the table erupted into giggles once again which made Han frown softly at their words. Iyo shook her head at him and then gestured for Han to leave which Han nodded and thanked her softly for the notes and assignments before he quickly left. The words of your mutual friends ringing in his ears and bouncing along the walls of his mind.

Han walks up to your apartment door and quickly opens the door with the spare key that you gave him years ago. He quickly slips out of his shoes and brings the bag of take out into the kitchen before moving around to heat it all up for the two of you. When he had the food ready and hot he put it on a tray before carrying it into your bedroom.

When he spotted you curled up in your bed buried underneath your blankets with just the top of your head peeking out he smiled softly. Placing the tray of food on your end table he sat on your bed before placing a gentle hand on your side.

”PB, wake up PB. I need you to eat something before taking more medicine.” He called out to you softly. You slowly stirred from sleep and Han watched fondly as you groggily sat up in bed letting the blankets fall from you. He chuckled softly as he gazed at you, your hair was a mess on the top of your head, your eyes are red rimmed and your face looks drowsy still even though he’s pretty sure that you’ve slept for the whole day.

”Hey Ji-lly.” You said in a raspy tone and Han smiled softly at you as he gently raised his hand to comb through your hair.

”You’re a mess PB.” He teased softly and you smiled crookedly at him as your eyes closed gently. “C’mon you need to eat something before you take your medicine.” He told you and he watched as you nodded your head obediently. He gently handed you the bowl of soup and waited until you began eating before he took his own bowl and began to eat.

As the two of you ate Han’s mind kept replaying the encounter at the cafe and without him knowing it you began to pick up that something was bothering him. After taking a couple spoonfuls of your soup you lower your bowl to your lap and turn to look at Han.

”Alright Ji-lly, spill it. What’s bothering you?” You ask him and he looks over at you in surprise.

“I-“ he begins before sighing softly as a knowing smile graces his lips. “When I met up with Iyo there were some of your other friends there and they said some stuff that made me curious and a little uncomfortable.” He admitted and you tilted your head to the side as you continued eating your soup.

”What was it?” You asked as your eyes kept darting back to him from your soup bowl.

”They said that I was super sweet for getting your notes and assignments for you. But then they also said that I was hot and that they were jealous of you having a sweet hot best friend.” Han told you and you looked at him surprised before he opened his mouth and spoke up again. “Do you think I’m attractive?” He asked suddenly and you jolted in your spot on the bed in surprise at his question before you shyly darted your eyes away from him for a moment.

”Ji-lly you’re very attractive.” You tell him honestly and Han stares at you with wide eyes at your confession. “But it’s not just looks that’s attractive about you.” You say and Han tilts his head at you curiously. “It’s everything. Your sweetness, your excitable passions that you get so worked up over that you rant for hours on end about them, your patience to always make sure that I understand things that you’re sharing with me, your inclusion of me in everything in your life.” You admit softly and Han smiles fondly at you before he chuckles softly.

”That just sounds like you’re in love with me or something.” He jokes teasingly as he looks down at his soup bowl and finishes the last of his soup. When he realizes that haven’t responded to his joke he whips his head up to stare at you surprised. He scoots closer to you and raises his hand to press his glasses further up his nose nervously as you look down at your bowl with a soft pretty blush dusting your cheeks. “Are you in love with me?” He asks softly with baited breath.

You shrug your shoulders at him and your eyes are avoiding any connection with his own as your blush intensifies on your cheeks. Han moves even closer to you and reaches out to cup your face with both of his hands tilting it up to look at him.

”Are you in love with me like I’m in love with you?” He asks softly and smiles as he watches your eyes widen at his admission before you’re melting in his hold with a soft look overcoming your face.

”Yes, Ji-lly. I’m in love with you just like you’re in love with me.” You admit to him softly and he smiles at you sweetly. He then leans forward puckering his lips to kiss you but just as his lips are about to make contact your hand comes up in between both of your mouths to block him. When Han’s lips press against your palm he jolts back and looks at you slightly wounded and you huff at him. “Ji-lly I’m still sick. Don’t you remember?” You tease him gently and Han blushes brightly at your reminder as you grin at him softly.

”When you’re feeling better can I kiss you then?” He asks softly and your grin widens on your face.

”Well duh, we’re dating now so I would assume you would kiss me when I’m better.” You tell him and he balks at your words before he melts into your bed and cuddles into your side as you finish your soup.

”Dating huh?” He asks smugly and you grin at him before pressing a kiss to his forehead.

”Don’t get cocky yet Ji-lly. It’s gonna be our first kiss.” You tell him teasingly and suddenly Han buries his face into your shoulder as a blush consumes him as embarrassment grips him.

SKZ Taglist: @kayleefriedchicken, @babigriin, @inlovewithstraykids, @channiesrightasscheek, @kaiyaba

@bookswillfindyouaway

#my writing #stray kids #skz #skz x reader #han jisung x reader #han jisung

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ironstrange1991 · 11 months ago

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The Goatee Problem

Pairing: Doctor!Strange x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 0,600k

Warnings: None, just fluff.

A/N: This is just a small blurb I came up with instead of finishing my Defender smut. Didn't want to end the month with nothing so I am posting this. Hope you guys like it and have a short but very nice reading.

"Believe me, you don't want to see this"

Stephen's voice sounded a bit shaky and nervous and his insistence that you do not go into the bathroom had you worried.

"Stephen, just tell me what happened. Are you hurt?"

You tried again to open the door and this time he didn't try to stop you from entering.

He was standing by the sink, but he turned his face so you couldn't see him in the mirror's reflection. You walked over hugging him from behind and he sighed "My hands... are shaking more than usual today... I shouldn't have tried..."

He turned to you, his face still smeared with shaving foam, but the goatee you were so used to was gone. "I had no alternative but..."

"Oh..." Was all you managed to say before bursting out laughing. Stephen frowned slightly offended.

"That's why I didn't want you to see me like this" He said pulling the towel from his shoulder and wiping his face.

He was gorgeous. Of course it was weird to see him without the goatee, but he was still handsome without it.

"I am not laughing at how you look, but at all the drama you are making."

You caressed his strangely smooth face, your index finger tracing around his lips and down to his chin. Stephen's skin was extremely soft.

"I've had my goatee for years, I don't even recognize myself without it."

You nodded, still distracted by how much the sight of Stephen in that different way was messing with you. "Well, I can't complain, you're still as hot as ever"

His face flushed with your compliment which made the whole situation even cuter. You pulled him to your lips and the feel of his smooth skin was different and interesting at the same time. He seemed taken aback by the intensity of your kiss and he was the one who broke the kiss to breathe.

"Don't get me wrong, Steph. I want the goatee back and you're going to have to put up with Wong and America's jokes for a month, but it's not all bad"

He didn't seem to understand where there could be a bright side to that tragedy and you made sure to make that clear when you kissed him again and continued to kiss the corner of his lips, running your lips up his cheeks until you reached his ear and licked his earlobe with the tip of your tongue before whispering "I'm sure it will feel very interesting between my legs"

He glanced at you completely intrigued as you pulled away and walked towards the bedroom.

"Did you like it then?" He asked still unsure.

You chuckled "Yes I did. Besides I'm sure in another universe there must be a version of you without the goatee."

He took a good look in the mirror and shook his head as if trying to encourage himself. "You're right, it isn't so bad."

"Don't get too excited tiger, I want my goatee back as soon as possible or you'll be sleeping on the couch." You warned.

“How do I face Wong and America now?” He asked, his voice sounding completely mortified “Shit, can’t let Stark see me like this.”

“Good lucky with that.” You said laughing while leaving the room.

Reblog please! Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing!

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cindol · 6 months ago

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ethan landry x fem reader . ( drabble )

cw + — fluff(for the most part lol), petnames(ethan calls reader baby),

ethan landry’s geeky nerdy sweet boy facade slips when he’s watching a scary movie with you. While you’re squeamish at the eighth kill count on the screen.

when you look at ethan next to you, he’s just having that sweet smile he always has on his pretty face while throwing microwaved popcorn into his mouth.“god.. you’re afraid of everything but scary movies?”

ethan made a chuckle at that, a wide smile on his face when he does. “guess i watched enough scary movies in my time that i’m practically desensitized to the scariness of it all.” or it was the fact that ethan sliced enough throats that he could differentiate how fake these scenes really were.

you pouted at his unbothered response to you and it made your boyfriend laugh more. “i’m sorry baby that i’m not as vocal with my fears when it comes to scary movies, if it makes you feel better you could cuddle in my arms for comfort?”

you only pouted again but complied and settled with cuddling him in the couch till some makeout scene every movie has came on the screen.

#ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x fem!reader #ethan landry x you #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry #ethan landry scream

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httpsryu · 7 months ago

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b.f.s (best friend's sister) pt. 2

pairing: mo jihye x fem!reader

summary: it was always a thing, noticing your best friend's older sister. ever since you were a young girl.

category: strangers-to-friends-to-lovers au

genre: fluff, slight angst (?)

warnings: JEALOUSY, y/n is very much head over heels for jihye

a/n: thanks for the love on part 1 <3

clearing your throat and simultaneously tapping your feet, you dart your eyes between your best friend and her sister. both girls look down at their feet, avoiding your gazes at them.

"i mean if it wasn't a date, i don't get why you're so upset." maya blurts out her intrusive thoughts, earning a nudge in her stomach by her sister.

you deeply sigh, having jihye's concern pan towards you. why do you seem to care so much about that girl?

"it isn't about that." you respond with a worried expression. "you already know how introverted haerin is, you can't just randomly yell that out -- especially in a public setting."

your best friend rolls her eyes, your words going through one ear and coming out the other. "i was just genuinely excited for you."

"me?"

maya nods. "haerin is a cute and nice girl and you were complaining about how you hated being single, let alone get grossed out when boys try to court you. i just figured you'd want to try something new with a nice and cute person like her."

"i see. but maya you'd have to understand that me dating is my own personal matters, besides even though i always complain on how single i am, i still don't want to be in the dating scene yet." you explain, thankfully without blurting out that you have feelings for your best friend's sister.

a crush is a crush.

"y/n is young to date anyways." jihye backs you up, feeling a sour taste at the idea of you and haerin possibly becoming a thing.

maya groans loudly, putting her head back to be dramatic. "we're only a year younger than you!"

"still too young." jihye crosses her arms, wanting to not talk about nor think about you dating. (after all, she's just being a protective older sister.)

the younger mo rolls her eyes at how geeky and overprotective her sister is being, getting up from the ramp that she was sitting on to reach you. "y/n, let's go leave this oldie behind. she's getting on my nerves."

"HEY!"

shaking at your head at how immature the two siblings are being, you can't help but to stare over at jihye more. oh, how pretty she is in the sunlight with her natural curly hair falling perfectly right at her shoulders.

the way jihye could never stay mad at anyone ever, that's how much of a sweet and kind person mo jihye is.

"AHHH! save me!" maya runs behind you, using you as shield from her jihye unnie.

jihye huffs in frustration at maya using you for protection before picking up your backpack from the ground. "it's getting late, let's start heading back home."

slinging your backpack around her shoulders, she starts walking in front.

pretty

"hehe." your best friend giggles in victory, kissing your cheek and making sure to leave a big 'smooch' sound which grabs jihye to stop walking and bringing her attention to you two.

"we're coming! we're coming!" maya could not help but to let out another eye roll at the way her sister is acting today.

you wait for a bit, standing behind to see the other two walking. however, your sense of vision floods and linger over jihye. oh, how she looks pretty while YOUR backpack is around her back. she even walks pretty, how is one's beauty made so perfect?

mr and mrs. mo made jihye with love.

"what are you doing?" maya turns around, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand to get a good look at you. "let's go!"

jihye turns around as well, her eyes basically smiling at you making you freeze and look off to the side of her face.

trying to play it cool, you let out a small laugh before running up to the both of them. to not over fluster yourself, you lean a bit more on maya's side.

this seems normal.

but, why does jihye want you closer to her? she can't help but to ask herself on why you seem to always draw a line between you and her? are you that uncomfortable around her? could it be because she's a year older than both you and maya?

with her hand clutching on one of the straps of your backpack, jihye distantly stares off into the streets, keeping quiet as she ponders on how to get closer to you.

it's only normal, right? you three basically grew up together, it's not weird at the fact she wants to become closer to you, right?

"isn't it strange that kyujin keeps leaving notes into someone's locker?" maya asks, wondering why one of their friends is trying to keep it a secret.

you can only hum in question, before trying to defend your friend. "i think it's honestly kind of cute."

"tch, so cheesy."

notes in a locker?

jihye patiently waits in front of your classroom, her hands gripping to the straps of her backpack while she looks down at her feet to calm her nerves down. she softly inhales and exhales, finding a steady breathing before your class ends.

"y/n." kyujin whispers to you across the classroom.

you struggle to drought down the lecture materials as you look up at your friend calling your name. "huh?"

you notice your friend making a weird jerking movement with her head, leaving you extremely confused and overstimulated due to the materials covered in class. "what?"

"look at the door." kyujin whispers back.

at your friend's words, you lazily dart your eyes to the door.

OH MY GOD??

at the sight of her, you immediately sit up in your seat, pretending to look studious in case she happens to peer inside the classroom. why could jihye possibly be here? and in front of your classroom?

and why does she look amazing in that grey sweats gym uniform? and her hair is so curly today, you can feel a sense of devotion just for her only. if only...she would see you the same way you see her.

jihye probably only saw you as a sister

all of a sudden, the urge for class to end disappears and you just want to stay seated at your desk FOREVER.

getting a quick glimpse of the clock, you internally start panicking as you curse out the clock for moving its hands too fast all of a sudden.

the second your teacher started to erase her work off of the whiteboard, the panic rises internally even more. class is ending soon and all of sudden, you want to stay here forever instead of facing your ongoing long term crush like an idiot.

everyone else in the class starts to put their workbooks away, having you start panicking even more and ultimately, you too put away your workbooks into your backpack with an anxious heartbeat racing.

you watch as everyone else disperse out the classroom, halting on purpose to still calm yourself down and figure out why jihye is out waiting here in front of your classroom.

"bye weirdo." kyujin sends you a flying kiss to which you shudder and grimace before she walks out the classroom.

jihye looks over, peering inside the classroom once the students exited out. she smiles softly at the way you're diligently taking the time to put away your workbooks and school supplies. jihye can't help but to admire a little bit of your features.

you look up from zipping up your backpack close, making direct eye contact with the older.

jihye smiles over at you, her pink rosy lips upturn with her signature lip gloss. you swore you could've felt your heartbeat stopped beating for a second at the smile. before you could even get straight back to what you were doing, jihye strides her way towards you.

OH MY GOD-calm down.

"hi unnie." you manage to say, calming down a bit while continuing to zip your backpack up.

the older lets out a soft hum. "hi y/n."

"w-what are you doing here?" you get out of your seat, asking her.

jihye pushes down the thought that you probably don't want to see her and manage a small smile at your question, grabbing your backpack and holding it. "maya is doing something for a project with her partner so i figured i would accompany you on your walk back home, if that's alright?"

alone? just the two of you? walking?

"y-yeah, that's alright." you softly smile at the older.

jihye gasps happily, nodding as she walks besides you out of the classroom, holding your backpack in her hand.

the silence is comforting yet it's killing you in the inside. only sounds of the both of you walking against the concrete ground could be heard. and strangely; you like it yet dislike it.

you only like it because walking with your crush is a blessing but you dislike it because what do you even do in this situation?

jihye admires your features a little longer, blatantly staring at you without knowing how it'd make you feel. frankly, jihye always found you perfect and adorable. (like a younger sister, right?) somehow; you look even more perfect in this sunlight.

'why is she staring at me so long like that?' you think to yourself, feeling nervous even more as the both of you continue to walk along a small trail to your neighborhood.

"so, you normally help out at the library?" jihye asks with a soft tender voice, smiling down prettily at you.

you let out a curt nod, diverting your eyes down at your feet to stop your cheeks from getting painted by a pink-hue. "haerin and i both help out at the library."

"ahh~ i see." jihye nods to herself, keeping that information stored into her brain. "so...this haerin. is she nice?"

jihye hopes she didn't sound too intruding for asking that question. why does she want to know so badly if haerin is nice to you or not?

you can only let out a shy nod in response.

jihye ignores the weird itchy feeling in the back of her throat, inhaling in deeply before speaking again. "that's...that's good."

the air falls silent again.

"y/n?"

you look up at her sweet voice calling your name, ignoring the way the soft vibrations of her voice affects your inner turmoil of emotions. "hmm, unnie?"

"umm...do you not like me?" jihye's voice is very gentle and quiet...with a sense of vulnerability seeping through.

god; if only she knows how much you like her. how much every glance she gives you make you feel overwhelmed and enthralled, giving you butterflies each time. or how much her voice calling your name out makes your heart pound in your chest.

"no...i do. why?" you compose yourself to be able to say those words.

jihye gazes down at you with a small smile, tilting her head. "you barely talk to me and when you do, only a few words are exchanged. you tend to be wary of your distance with me when i'm near you."

you sigh deeply silently, darting your eyes back to the ground, the cracks in the pavement looking more interesting than the face of the girl you've always had a crush on since you were seven.

jihye quietly observe you, waiting for your response.

"it's not that unnie..."

you sigh again, not knowing what to say to ease the older girl's mind.

"you just make me nervous..."

jihye's brows furrows at your words.

nervous?

"is it because i'm older than you?" the question comes out hesitantly from the older's lips, lingering in the air for a few seconds while the two continues walking.

you shake your head immediately. "n-no."

"is it because i'm maya's sister?"

"no."

jihye's lips changes into a small frown, her eyes full of curiosity. "then why do i make you nervous?"

before you could open your mouth to form a response to the older's question, a small bark and a scratch on your legs grab your attention. you glance down, seeing your family's beloved toy poodle. which means you've arrived home...

"ah~ looks like we've made it safely." the older smiles softly, putting distance between you two to give you space. "i'll let maya know i've taken you home safely."

you can only nod in response. "thanks unnie..."

"i'll see you around." jihye says, forcing a smile as she reluctantly turns around to start heading home.

thursday; at 5:30 pm is written down as the worse day in your entire life.

here you are, lying in maya's arms while she comforts you. her hand brushes through your hair while tears are pouring out from your eyes. it's dumb, really. to cry over someone who's probably only seen you as their little sister's best friend.

and yet; here you are...

all because you saw jihye hugging some cool girl who goes by the name of kim minji.

why does the world seems to punish JUST you?

"shh...it's alright..." maya soothes you, her tone in a hushed whisper.

she feels your tears subsiding as you sniffle softly.

"there, there...you're alright."

once you've managed to calm down and relax, maya slightly pulled back to take a look at you. her thumbs gently wiped around your tears.

"now, who made my darling cry?" maya asks in a small whisper.

how do you tell your best friend of ten years that you've had a crush on her older sister since the day you became friends?

you shake your head, worried of what maya would think if you told her.

before maya could open her mouth to respond back, the door of her room gets swing opened and there she is, jihye standing in the doorway with a concerned look.

"i...overheard on the way back to my room." jihye softly says, her eyes focus onto you. "is everything alright here?"

no. no. no.

it's as if her gentle and concerned voice makes it even worse and before you can stop yourself; a dam of tears starts to break.

oh boy, this will be a long night.

hey...hehe...sorry for the VERY late second part :( my laptop got stolen and i hate typing on my phone or ipad so i had to buy a new one...

october 30, 2024; publishing date

taglist: OPEN

#kpop x reader #kpop imagines #httpsryu #new jeans x reader #new jeans imagines #danielle x reader #mo jihye x reader #mo jihye #jihye x reader #newjeans danielle #newjeans x reader

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