#he's so annoying... but it's part of his charm... but he's so annoying... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

m-robinavitch · 7 hours ago

Text

angel.

Pairing: Frank Langdon and Reader/Slight Original Character (Best Friends/Roommates/Platonic Soulmates) Summary: How angel originally got her name from none other than Frank Langdon during their first semester at NYU Fall 2013 Warnings: my poor attempt at understanding NYU and how the elite live, Langdon has his own warning for just being himself. Origin story of Frank and angel from sedated. and strangers.

The longest you had gone without talking to Frank Langdon was 17 years, 10 months, and 25 days, give or take a few days because you’re sure you threw a snarky comment or two his way before a full conversation or introduction was had. But that time frame was the exact period it took for your souls met once again, only in this current lifetime. You never really believed in soulmates or fate or anything of the nature. Because the world was cruel and random, a kind world that gave you the exact person who would make you feel whole wouldn’t take your father away from you when you were 8 years old, wouldn’t have your mother spend the rest of her days self medicating and sleeping until noon when she would then wake up and drink her breakfast. A kind world would’ve given you Langdon much sooner in life. A kind world wouldn’t have put you through agony until the other half of your soul could find you again.

You like to think that you manifested him, that you were intentional with your heart and that you picked him out of a line up and said “yes- this is the idiot I choose,” but no- Frank Langdon was irksome and frustrating since before you officially met. He was arrogant and annoying and so damn charming all at the same time. But somehow you felt instantly that you’ve known him for a hundred lifetimes and will continue for many more to come. He spoke to the inner parts of you that you shoved down, he didn’t chisel away at the wall you built up, no- he had a wrecking ball and that dopey smile on his face while he demolished everything you spent years building. You did not pick him, no- he forced his way into your life because that’s where he belonged, that’s where his inner being was comfortable and where it was meant to be.

“Hey,” you kicked the desk, “I have this time slot.” The light was off in the study room which you thought meant that you didn’t have to awkwardly stick your head in and fake niceties to whoever couldn’t fucking tell time. But no- it was off because someone had decided to use your rented space as an impromptu napping area.

“Leave-“ you kicked again, putting your backpack on the table when the folded up person groaned.

“Can’t you go anywhere else?” He started to unwind himself, stretching heavily so his hoodie rode up his stomach just a bit- an obnoxious noise coming from his mouth while he did so. No- you couldn’t go anywhere else. Ok you could have, but for the last few weeks this had been your spot, it was tucked away perfectly and near a hidden restroom and the good vending machines. The squatter looked up at you with striking blue eyes, dark brown hair cropped around his ears and the longer pieces at the top pushed back- you knew those eyes.

“No- this has been my room for weeks” you reply, starting to unpack your backpack of all your books and laptop and some snacks for the few hours you had locked in. “You’re in my bio lab.”

“That’s where I know you” he knows he’d never seen you at a rush party, “umm-“ snapping at himself to jog his memory for your name, confidently getting it wrong, only for you to correct him. “Frank Langdon” he says, leaning back in the chair across from you. You weren’t the party type really, he could tell by the way you’d all but sneer at him and his friends. Well- ex friends now.

“I know,” you mumble, clearly he’s staying here- maybe to assert dominance or just to be a shit. “You sit in my row- you always make noise coming in late.” The last few classes he had come in late, grumbling and trying to be inconspicuous but he was 6 feet tall and not very graceful, last time he broke a few flasks when he swung his backpack- professor Ross was not impressed. But how could you get mad at someone with big sky blue eyes and boyish charm. Easily. He was cocky and annoying and you could hear him coming down the hall with his frat brothers before every fucking class.

“Yeah- you’re um, lab partners with that one guy,” ah yes- the poor kid who threw up upon the first slice in the dissection of the fetal pig, and then proceeded to go down like an anvil in some Looney Tunes bit. He hasn’t been back to class since then so you’ve been partnerless for about two weeks. “Jason, no- Jackson?” God Frank was so bad at names. He just dubs everyone a nickname- something he can refer back to when he has to think of them or talk to them. You were angel eyes. It wasn’t sweet- no. Yes you were very pretty- but the nickname was more for the unsettling way you’d stare at him when he and his friends were being loud. Like the way you see an actual angel- it’s scary but dammit you can’t look away.

“James, and yeah he decided the Premed track wasn’t for him. So I’m riding solo,” opening your laptop to the course plan for this semester and snatching back the bag of chips that Frank started to open up, clearly easily making himself at home in your space.

“I’ll be your lab partner- I mean, if you need? Mine skipped out on me, so-” He tried to sound nonchalant, tried to not beg because now that he’s out of his frat- said lab partner is now an official frat member and has resigned from being his lab partner- banned even. He needed help. He needed you. A lab partner. He was smart, yes- but he couldn’t get his own thoughts out sometimes because they’re too fast and he doesn’t focus well and sometimes working with someone calms him a bit and he’s been struggling this last few weeks with-

“Yeah,” you shrug, sliding the bag of chips his way again, “yeah okay.” You needed a lab partner. Desperately. Professor Ross strongly recommended that this course was best worked in pairs. To split the load- and you could definitely do it yourself. You’re definitely smart and not at all panicking. But- solidarity in numbers right? Maybe suffering with someone else was better than going it alone? Because you’re almost 3 months into freshman year and- yes, you’re already drowning. Someone to split the difference with will help. You didn’t need friends. No this was a business transaction- a necessity. He moves his chair over to yours, following along to the plan you’ve laid out for the rest of the semester while passing the bag of chips between you both now. Hours had passed- you managed to knock out a few discussions and quizzes with Langdon and- he was funny. Annoying as hell, but made you laugh and smarter than your last lab partner by far. Okay so- you did judge him a little. Just a bit. First month in class he already had his frat regalia on and was cocky and overconfident and loud and annoying and- really all that’s missing is the clothes now but you’ve spent longer with him and he’s not that bad. Maybe it was the group of the other 18 year olds who would gas each other up and jerk around and he’d just follow suit. But alone he’s human. Alone he’s funny and failing at catching the nasty orange skittles in his mouth that you throw at him.

“It’s late- we should go, they’ll be closing up soon.” you’re closing your laptop now and bending down to pick up the skittles Langdon missed from the floor, “same time Monday then?” You were ready for the next few days. To do what? Same thing you do every weekend. Absolutely. Fucking. Nothing. Well- nothing but in the best way possible. You wake up whenever your body decides it’s uncomfortable and can’t lay still anymore- usually around 10 or 11 am. You’ll wrap the biggest coat you can find around you and make your way to the closest newsstand for the Times and run back upstairs before the chill sets in to your bones. You’ll sip your coffee, iced- no matter the weather, in bed if it’s too cold out but on the little balcony when the weather is nice- while thumbing through the paper. Then eventually you settle in for the crossword puzzle of the day. Every weekend. Like clockwork.

“Uh- yeah- yeah definitely.” Frank makes himself look busy, shuffling some paper and tells you he’ll clean the rest of the skittles off the floor so you can go home. He tosses a quick bye to you and you’re confused with his sudden change in attitude, but leave nonetheless. You make it a few steps outside, down the stairs even but- something tells you to go back. You don’t even know Frank but- something in your gut pulls you to go back to him.

“Why are you still here?” You burst through the study room again, watching him anxiously pick his backpack up from the floor and attempt to open it.

“Oh- um, I- I was just- gonna get some more chapters in and-“

“You’re a terrible liar, Langdon. C’mon, lemme at least drive you back to your frat.”

“You can’t-“

“Look don’t be macho, I’m not driving I mean-“

“No I mean,” sucking in a breath he starts, “you can’t because I got kicked out 2 weeks ago. And it’s too late to get a dorm now- and even if I could- I can’t afford one. I’ve been staying in the study rooms, that’s why I’ve been late for class the last few times.” It was hard taking orders from a punk kid, only a year older than him, named Carter of all fucking things. Ivy League wannabe, whose daddy couldn’t get him into Columbia so he’s slumming it at NYU until he can maybe transfer. Frank wanted a brotherhood, wanted to go to college with people who cared about him and he could make relationships with. Not fucking “brothers” who forced him to clean windows and their shoes with his own toothbrush, then proceeded to make him use said toothbrush still. Or “brothers” who brought barely conscious girls up to their rooms and told him to shut the fuck up when he said something about it. After he brought it up to the counselor, he was kicked out the same night. Came back to the house with his stuff littering the curb and only had enough time to grab a duffle back with some clothes before running off. He was able to sneak into the library before it closed and- well this is where he’s been for the last few weeks.

Like clockwork Frank would come in with a group of students and find an empty corner to hide in until they left their study room for the night, then he’d sneak into the used room- turn the light off and sleep until class started the next morning. If he was lucky enough to wake up before his alarm, he’d run down to the gym to take a quick shower with some of the free sample sized toiletries from the student resource center. Then he’d run to the cafeteria and try to use as little of his meal plan money as possible- loading up for breakfast and getting easy to carry snacks for his classes throughout the day. For dinner he’d come back to the cafeteria for another meal that was as cheap as possible- then to the library.

Frank couldn’t ask his parents for money. No- they’d give it to him even if he knows they don’t have it. He’ll figure something out. He has a few months until next semester- he can talk to the counselor about getting a dorm or do work in exchange or- or something. But right now he’s tired. He’s exhausted. Mentally drained and he barely has enough energy to do his class work at the moment, let alone having to figure out how to be homeless for a few months. Because, if he failed classes, he can lose his scholarship. Losing his scholarship means he either has to come up with the money for a full tuition or leave. And his parents will kill themselves trying to find the money for him. No- no he was fine. He just had to keep his head above the water, tread heavily, don’t drown.

Nodding- you take in what Frank says and reach down to grab his duffle bag that you somehow missed when you first entered the study room.

“C’mon,” you toss behind you, “I know where you can stay.” Frank is stuttering out for you to wait- tripping over himself to catch up to you and trying to grab his bag back from you but you shove him away. You’re not letting the kid stay in a study room, no bed to recline in or fucking area to relax in- and you have the room, you have more than enough room.

“Look I don’t need help,” he pulls his bag from you again, a little more forceful but you’re stubborn and not letting go. He doesn’t want charity or a hand out. He can’t afford to be a roommate, he can’t even fucking afford food right now. “I’m fine- I’m comfortable and it’s not that bad and-“

“Dude shut up. You’re sleeping curled up in a desk- hiding like a stowaway on a ship. I have an extra room.” You silence a bit when you hear a few students shush you both, “Frank- you can’t stay here okay? It’s fine- my place is too quiet anyway. Look-“ you pause and compose yourself. Why was he so fucking stubborn? You’re not taking him to a homeless shelter- you’re offering him a space and you can work out payment later if that’s what’s bothering him but right now he needs help. “Just one night okay? I can’t let you stay here another night in good conscience. Please?” That was the first time Frank Langdon realized you were hard to say no to. And he didn’t know he would spend the next decade having a hard time telling you no when it really came down to it. So he nodded, still grabbing his duffle from your shoulder but followed you nonetheless out the door and down the steps of Brause Library as the thunder started to pick up. Following you to the black town car- stopping a few feet behind when a man in a pressed uniform opens the door for you with a polite greeting. You hear Frank’s footsteps falter, feel him hesitate and can literally hear the gears turning in his head as a few drops of rain started to fall from above.

“This way Langdon.” You stop his thoughts, nodding him over and holding the door open so he can slide into the backseat first. You can feel your driver’s eyes on him, not fully trusting Frank because he knows you. Knows you to not make the best decisions but you just smile to him- a silent indicator to drop it, that you know what you’re doing. Sighing to himself, he turns to Frank and asks “Your bag sir?” So he can throw whatever few possessions Langdon hastily grabbed into the trunk.

“Where to miss?” Clearing his throat, shutting the drivers side door and meeting your eyes in the rearview mirror.

“Home, Bradley.” Clicking your seatbelt and replying like it was obvious, the same way you do every day.

“And- um, for the gentleman?” His eyebrow raised, meeting your gaze. Frank sat uncomfortably in the chair. The leather too cold and stiff- the same way the gaze from your driver felt.

“I picked up a stray, he’s staying with me tonight.” You didn’t have time to explain to your driver, Bradley, whom has been driving you around for the last decade, the background information of Langdon’s housing situation. That he’s not driving you and your hook up to your home. And well- even if he was driving you and your hook up home, you’re an adult and he can lovingly fuck off.

Frank had no idea what he was getting himself into when he agreed to stay with you. He thought he agreed to being roommates in a tiny shoebox apartment- sleeping on your couch that was definitely going to be too small for him. That was a laughable thought now as your driver, Bradley, pulled up to a Park Avenue building with a fucking doorman of all things. He was definitely not dressed to even speak to the doorman, let alone walk across the marbled lobby. Bradley was handing Frank his bag when you walked up the fucking carpeted steps to the doorman.

“Evening miss,” Greeting the doorman, you hung back for Frank, nodding for him to follow again because you know he would be stopped and questioned by security- clearly not a resident of the building. Frank just- takes it all in. He knows New York as stuffy and congested and loud. He doesn’t even allow himself to imagine anything between 59th and 79th street. He doesn’t picture it and feels odd as his wet, old Nike’s squeak across the lobby floor, looking up at the grand high ceiling and fucking velvet accent curtains. You wait, in the elevator as it speeds up to the penthouse floor, you wait for Frank to say something- anything. But he’s just, still. Quiet and stiff. Frank feels like- well he feels like a fucking child in a museum, afraid to touch at anything- to look at anything in fear that it will shatter.

“Home sweet home,” You mumble, stepping off the elevator and go to unlock the front door, letting it swing open so he can step in. The lights automatically flicker on once you walk through the threshold, following you room by room and-

“What the fuck?” He finally allows himself to say. Circling around in the spacious living room, looking out the floor to ceiling windows that show the lighting, how it clearly outlines the skyscrapers in the background. From this height he swears even the view is better, in HD even. Frank feels like he stepped into a copy of his mom’s “West Elm” catalogue that she would flip through and imagine the extravagant lives those people live and what it takes to afford even the napkin holders.

“Are you hungry? I can order something- or see if Andre is still around to make dinner.” You ignore his gaped, confused look, setting your backpack down on the couch and opening the glass paned refrigerator looking for something to drink. Now, Frank wasn’t ignorant- he knew kids of the so called “elite” went to school with him. But- you just didn’t give off the snobbed vibe that they did. You didn’t bring up familial connections or rub elbows with the professors and dean like some did. You didn’t strut in with designer clothing and accessories- but to be fair, even if you did, it’s not like he’d know what they looked like. And who the fuck was Andre?

“No- um, no, no I can’t stay here,” he’s tightening his duffle bag and backpack around him now- nervous and suddenly very aware of his surroundings and- “it’s, this is too much. Thank you for- yeah.” He’s walking towards the door but you’re faster- running to meet him and wedging yourself between him.

“Look-“ you say, angrily because he’s definitely fucking hard headed and he needs to listen. “You are staying here tonight- even if I have to call security downstairs and post a cop outside the door. You’re staying here tonight Langdon.” You come up to his shoulder, shorter than he is but fucking mighty and he might be afraid of you a bit more now. He can’t- he can’t accept staying here. His siblings are doubled up in rooms back home and he’s going to stay in a penthouse apartment with a doorman and whoever the fuck Andre was. You don’t move, content on staying there the entire night if you have to.

“Are you sure?” He doesn’t know if he asks for himself or for you but- he needs to hear you say it’s okay. Because he can’t tell himself it’s okay right now. He’s been getting less than 3 hours sleep a night in the last week, curled up in the just too small desk- uncomfortable and stressed. And an actual bed sounds so fucking good right now. And food. Not shitty cafeteria food or scrounged up protein bars- a meal he can enjoy. But you’re nodding, relaxing yourself a bit because you were ready to jump on his back and drag him down fighting- even if you’re sure he’d just be able to easily shrug you off. He drops his bags on the floor, beautiful, herringboned Ebony wood floors- sighing and- “who’s Andre?”

“The chef.” you say, grabbing his duffle so you can show him where he’ll stay for the night- hopefully longer if he agrees. His room would be on the opposite side of the floor from you, his own bathroom and view- his own space that he’s never really had or enjoyed really. He never had his own room, he shared with one of his brothers up until he left for college, then a roommate in the dorms for a week, then a room with one of his potential frat brothers, and- well the cramped study room didn’t even have a bed so it didn’t count. The bed was made, crisp white linens that you could probably bounce a quarter off of- bathroom towels fluffed to perfection and a stocked shower. It was like a fucking hotel only this time he was afraid of putting his bag down- afraid of stepping onto the rug with his gross shoes but it was so nice. It smelled like cotton and fresh air- the curtains looked pressed and he might even check for a mint on the pillow later because, you live here? You did- you’ve lived here in this cold, quiet apartment for a decade now. And sure- this guest room was nice and freshly made in case someone needed a place to stay. Not that you had many friends who stayed- none in fact. But your room has been destroyed and stripped from its original foundation of its Pure Park Avenue glory and into your angsty teenage decorations long ago.

“It’s okay Frank,” you see him slowly turning and taking in the room- the fucking view from the 80-something-th floor in his own room. “Relax- the room doesn’t bite.” He tries to laugh, but he’s easing himself on the bed now and there’s a million pillows on it and- fucking soft. “Thank you,” he sits up, smiling and trying to not cry because he was tired. He was drowning. He didn’t know how he was going to make it another few months like he was and you were some godsend. “You’re literally an angel.” You were. To him anyway because in this moment you’ve stopped his spiraling. You’ve stopped his downfall. He will definitely make it up to you however he can.

#the pitt #the pitt fanfiction #the pitt fic #frank langdon #frank langdon x reader #frank langdon imagine #frank langdon x you #my random typings

24 notes · View notes

kendallroydefender · 16 hours ago

Text

Love‘s Gonna Bring You Home - Part 1 (Jax Teller x Winston!Reader)

Summary: Being Opie’s little sister meant you grew up in the world of SAMCRO. Surrounded by motorcycles, kutte‘s and the steady presence of his best friend Jax Teller. The one you had a crush on since you were a teen. Now you’re back in Charming and the old friendship slowly turned into something neither of you had expected.

It was good being back home. No matter how much you had been looking forward to going to college you had missed Charming. A lot. The familiar places, the club you grew up in, your family. And Jax.

Being Opie’s little sister by two years you grew up with him and his best friend since childhood.

You had been home, unpacking your suitcase and then went to the club to see your dad.

Now you were sitting in the Teller Morrow parking lot listening to the guys in the background while holding a cold coke bottle.

The sound of a motorcycle approaching got your attention. You heard the rumble of the engine before you saw him.

Jax Teller. The MC‘s golden boy, your brothers best friend and your crush since you were 14 years old. Being Opie’s little sister by two years you basically grew up with him and his best friend. Often tagging along when they were out and about. Annoying them when you were kids but then becoming close friends.

It’s been a while since you last saw Jax. Last summer you did a road trip with friends so you weren’t home. The summer before you had spent mostly at your, now ex, boyfriends hometown. And last Christmas you didn’t see him either since your dad was sick.

His blonde hair was a little longer since you last saw him, a little more stubble on his jaw, white tee snug under his Kutte and his trademark white Nikes.

He looked good. And you couldn’t stop your heart from jumping the same way it did when you were a teen.

”Look who’s back in town.“ he called out as he walked up to you. A smile gracing his face.

”Had to make sure you don’t forget about me.“ you laughed back

”How could I forget the girl who cut up my bandana to make a veil at six years old because she decided we were gonna get married.“ he paused for a moment, chuckling.

”You were bossy as hell back then.“

You grinned, a little embarrassed

”You should’ve been honored to marry me under the jungle gym.“ you shrugged.

He laughed at that before stepping closer.

You two hugged briefly.

Jax eyes scanned over you afterwards. Your hair was a little different now. A college hoodie sitting on your shoulders, cut off shorts that showed your legs. Legs Jax had no business noticing. But he did.

He stopped in front of you, his grin easy. “You’ve been gone too long.”

You shrugged. “College doesn’t exactly let you skip finals for beer nights at the clubhouse.”

Jax chuckled. “Yeah, well maybe they should.”

It was evening a few days after you’ve arrived when you went up to the roof of the Teller Morrow Garage.

A can of coke beside you. You didn’t have to look over when you heard the creak of the ladder. You already knew who it was.

”Been a while since anyone else came up here.“ he said, smile noticeable in his tone.

You shrugged ”You were working, figured you wouldn’t mind me borrowing your spot.“

”Don’t mind at all.“ he answered.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was comfortable, easy.

”Being away gets heavy sometimes.“ you stated ”Me not being around helping dad to help. Opie being locked in.“ you let out a breath. ”Thought I come up here and pretend life wasn’t so complicated.“

Jax nodded.

”It does that. Life.“

”Opie showed me this place once. Told me this is where you think when the world gets too loud.“

Jax nodded

”Sometimes this feels like the only place I can breathe.“

You glanced at him. The honesty in his voice catching your attention.

”I get that.“ you agreed ”That’s why I came here.“

Another quiet moment passed as you both watched the sunset.

”Glad you’re home.“ he said then

”Me too.“ you said.

The chair squeaked as you sat down. You hated being here. The heavy feeling that came with the place.

But the moment you saw your brothers broad frame step into the room all that was forgotten.

Opie smiled when he saw you.

”Hey y/n.“ he said.

”Hey Ope.“

He sat down in front of you, looking at you for a moment.

”You lookin‘ good. You’re eatin‘? Sleepin‘?“

You rolled your eyes ”Yes Dad.“

He smirked ”Just gotta check. What’ve you been up to?“

”Helping Dad around the house. Being at the club. Hanging out with Jax.“ you shrugged

”Hanging out with Jax, huh?“

”Don’t start.“ you told him.

”Just sayin‘.“ he answered

”Ope I’ve been spending my summer with him every year since I was like 6. it’s the same as always just… without you.“

He nodded a fareaway look on his face.

”You’re missing. I miss you.“ you told him.

”I miss you, too.“ he told you.

You sat for a moment before he spoke again.

”How’s college going?“

”It’s good! Last year starting soon.“

”I’m so proud of you, kid.“

You gave him a smile ”Thank you.“

”If anyone could do it it’s you.“ he said before adding ”Smartest Winston there ever was.“

”Oh come on. I’m not.“ you laughed

”You serious? Who’s smarter? Aunt Beatrice? Uncle Karl?“ Opie grinned.

”I’m not smarter than you.“

”Kid, I love your support here but that’s not true. I’m the one in jail.“

You tilted your head

”Doesn’t mean you’re dumb.“

A guard let you know that the visitation time was almost up.

”I hate that I have to leave you here.“

”I’ll be back before you know it.“

You nodded knowing that it was more than a year before he would be released. You and Opie had always been close. You would drop anything for him and he would do the same for you. So you being separated like this was hard for both of you. Yeah, you wrote each other letters and called but it wasn’t the same as being able to come to him with every problem, thought and struggle you had.

The sun was high and reflecting off the water. The lake was quiet. You’ve been coming hear since forever. You, Jax and Opie. Club barbecues or fishing days.

You kicked your shoes off and settled close to the shoreline. Jax shrugged off his Kutte before stretching out beside you. You’ve been spending more and more time together this summer. You’d always did but usually with your brother but since Opie was in prison it was just the two of you.

Jax closed his eyes while you took out a book. Turning onto your stomach while reading.

You didn’t notice him studying you. You were so wrapped in the story, hair falling around your face, the sun illuminating you making you look as if you were glowing.

A smiled formed on his face. Yeah, you were always pretty but you were a kid. Now though? Now you were beautiful. A woman. Smart as hell and funny.

He let his gaze linger a little longer. The way your brows furrowed slightly in concentration. He almost didn’t noticed that he was staring until your eyes flicked towards his.

”What?“ You grinned a little.

He shook his head, his own grin forming slow and easy.

”Nothin‘“

You raised your eyebrows but he changed the topic before you could say anything else.

"Come on, darlin. You're not gonna sit there the whole time like a grandma."

He got up and started taking off his clothes. You tried not to stare. Eyes lingering on his chest. But Jax noticed anyway, he stayed silent though, small smirk forming on his face.

You rolled your eyes at him before stripping out of your own clothes until you were left in your bathing suit. Making his jaw clench slightly as his eyes glanced over you.

The water was cold and you squealed a little as you waded in. Jax laughed at you, more out of reflex you splashed some of the cold water at him.

”Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be?“ he grinned before charging at you.

You let out a shriek before trying to get away but he caught you easily, arms sliding around your waist from behind lifting you out of the water as you tried to kick at him.

”Jax!“ you laughed.

He laughed too, head tucked beside yours, his grip firm but careful as he spun you around before lowering you back into the cool water. He was still holding on to you, his chest warm against your back. You felt his breath on your neck, the way it slowed a little as you stopped fighting and just leaned into him.

”This what you wanted?“ you asked.

”Somethin‘ like it.“ he said, voice low but you could hear the smile in it.

You twisted in his arms, facing him. His arms loosened around you but stayed on your hips. For a moment you were both just looking at each other, sun lit, soaked but smiling. Your hand resting on his stomach, his warm skin a contrast to the water.

There was a energy in the air. Neither of you leaned in or kissed the other. But it felt close.

For now though you just slipped out of his arms and swam away with a teasing grin, making him chase you again.

The bike roared off into the night air as you stepped onto the porch later that day, hair still damp, a little sunburned, the sleeves of Jax hoodie tugged over your hands.

Piney was on his usual chair on the porch, beer in hand, oxygen machine humming beside him.

”You and that boy been spending a lot of time lately.“ he said.

”Yeah,“ you answered ”Just catching up while I’m home.“

Piney hummed low.

”Just seems like you’re smiling more these days.“

You tried to keep your expression neutral, but your mouth twitched lightly.

”Is that your subtle way of asking questions without asking them?“

He let out a short laugh.

”Ain’t none of my business unless you want it to be.“ he answered.

”It’s nothing.“ you shrugged ”We‘re just closer now.. you know… with everything happening.“ you said. Piney nodded, knowing how much you missed your big brother.

There was a bonfire the club had thrown. Beer, barbecue, music and lawnchairs.

You were sitting a bit to the side, next to Jax on a log, sipping from a beer you’ve barely touched. He was closer than necessary, your knees brushing. The light from the fire illuminated you both in a soft glow. You tried not to stare but failed. You were wearing Jax hoodie again, had been every night since the day at the lake.

The song changed to a familiar tune.

”So, you gonna dance with me, Teller?“ you asked, a smirk on your face.

”That a challenge, Winston?“ he said leaning back onto his hands.

”That’s a dare.“

He chuckled as he stood, brushing off his jeans. Then he extended a hand.

”Alright. Let’s go, college girl.“

You took it and let him pull you up. It was warm, calloused and familiar.

The grass is cool under your bare feet. No one was watching you too closely as Jax placed his hand gently on your waist and yours coming up to his shoulders.

”Don’t step onto my toes.“ you warned

”Wouldn’t dare.“ he grinned

Jax looked at you, wearing his clothes, in the soft light of the fire, barefeet. He knew it was a cliche. Falling for his best friends sister. The girl Opie had always told him was off limits. He hadn’t planned this but it just felt right with you.

You looked up at him then, a small smile on your face, and Jax swore his fucking heart stopped. He hadn’t felt like this in ages. Not since Tara. And that was years ago.

”What?“ you asked, a little teasing, a little breathless.

”Just enjoy the moment, me dancing won’t happen that soon again.“

You narrowed your eyes slightly ”We‘ll see about that.“

Afterwards you found yourselves sitting with the others. You sat between Jax legs on the ground as he sat on a low log behind you, arms on his knees. Laughing at something Tig said. It was good, comfortable, perfect. You didn’t hate college but this here felt like home. You didn’t have to pretend. You grew up around these people and yeah, you knew what was going on in the club, the dark side of it but these guys were your family.

”You heading back soon?“ Jax asked in a low tone, pulling your attention back to him.

”Couple more weeks.“ you answered ”Trying not to think about it.“

Jax nodded.

”You ever think about stayin‘?“

”Yeah,“ you said truthfully ”but it’s only one more year until I’m finished, so…“

”You comin‘ back afterwards?“ he asked

”Not sure yet. But Charming’s home and I miss it.“ you told him, and it was true.

”Charming‘s not the same without you, Darlin‘“ he told you.

You smiled and leaned back into him a little more. His arms wrapped around your pulling you closer. You didn’t press it further. It was not the night for confessions.

But when he drove you home that evening, walking you up the porch he lingered a little, his hand grazing the small of your back as he hugged you goodnight.

You smoothed your hands down your jeans as you waited for Opie.

Jax sat beside you, Kutte left in your car, arms crossed. His knee kept bouncing under the table.

And then you spotted him. His eyes softened as he saw you two.

You all talked a little, Jax gave some brief updates on the club, you told him about Piney. Your and Jax knees touching softly under the table as he told your brother about some funny thing that happened, you laughing along, adding some comments.

Opie’s eyes narrowed a little

”You two been spendin‘ a lot of time together, huh?“ he asked.

”Someone’s gotta keep her from getting into trouble while you’re in here.“ Jax shrugged, a little too casual.

”Like I’m the one starting bar fights.“ you rolled your eyes with a smile.

Opie leaned back in his chair, eyes still on you.

”What’ve you been up to this summer?“ he asked then.

”Oh, you know. Spending time with Donna and the kids. Doctors visits with Dad. Stopping by the club. Reading.“ you rattled off.

”Going to the lake.“ Jax added. You nudged him under the table.

Opie raised a brow ”The lake, huh?“

”Just hanging out.“ you shrugged ”Like we always have.“

He didn’t say anything else but the look on his face told you he didn’t quiet bought it.

”You look good, kid. Take care, okay?“ Opie said after the guards signaled that the visits were over.

”I will. You too.“ you said throat feeling tight.

Jax and him said their goodbyes afterwards.

”I’m watching you, Teller.“ Opie said as he walked away, not unkind but pointed.

You stood at your car hugging your father to say goodbye.

Piney let out a little chuckle as he parted from you.

”Guess I’m not the only one who’s gonna miss you.“

You furrowed your brows for a second before you heard the steps behind you.

As you turned you saw Jax standing behind you, hands buried in his pockets.

”Hi.“ you said

”Hey.“ he nodded back

”I’ll leave you kids too it.“ your dad said as he stepped back into the house.

You shifted on your feet as the screen door creaked shut behind your dad.

”So… this is it for now.“ you said, offering a small smile.

He nodded, stepping a little closer ”Yeah, guess so.“.

You reached for him first. Arms wrapping around his neck, hugging him tightly.

He held you just as close, burying his face in your neck.

”Promise me you’ll call.“ you murmured.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you. The look he gave you almost undid you.

”If you promise me you’ll answer.“ he said

You nodded ”Always.“

He exhaled, then brushed a strand of hair away from your cheek.

”It’s been a good summer.“

”The best.“ You smiled.

He leaned in then, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

”Be safe.“ he said.

”You too.“ you whispered.

And then you climbed into your old car. Piney came back into the driveway.

You waved at them both before you drove away. With a heavy feeling in your heart.

#jax teller imagine #jax teller x reader #jax teller fic #jax teller fanfiction #jax teller x you #soa fanfiction

22 notes · View notes

toribellsa · 3 days ago

Text

Pretend to be in love II

0 // 1

Lando's newfound interest in Oscar was no secret. The change in him was not instant, but undeniable. His previous dismissive attitude turned into close observation; his caustic remarks became less frequent and his forced gestures were replaced by more hesitant, but sincere, ones. He would linger near Oscar's garage, supposedly chatting to his mechanics about car settings and strategy, but his eyes would be fixed on Oscar and his surroundings. Lando began to realise that any touch, even casual, from other alphas (and some betas) made his fangs itch with irritation. He didn't know whether he wanted to sink his fangs into the irritating admirers of Oscar more, to get rid of his rivals, or into Oscar himself, to show everyone who the omega belonged to.

The changes in Lando's behaviour did not escape the attention of the team either. It was hard not to notice how Lando had started to actively seek out Oscar's company, not only for staged photographs, but also for genuine, heartfelt conversations. He increasingly initiated interactions with the omega, touching him more frequently and standing as close as possible. Sometimes, when he leaned against the doorframe of Oscar's driver's room and observed him, the team could physically sense how far Lando was from his previous indifference.

During team lunches, the alpha would seemingly try to sit next to Oscar and start a conversation with him. He would occasionally put his hand on the back of Oscar's chair by chance, touching his shoulder and stroking it lightly. Then he would watch as a charming blush spread across Oscar's neck. Although he still grumbled when the team was pressured into filming a PR video, when he saw Oscar paying attention to others, a possessive growl escaped Norris's throat that he could not fully suppress.

Oscar, for his part, was somewhat perplexed by this change in his teammate. Over time, he had grown accustomed to Lando's cold attitude and the way he spoke to him, treating him like an especially annoying fly rather than a partner. But now, Lando was watching him. Not with his usual disdain, but with predatory attention that made the hairs on the back of Oscar's neck stand on end. It seemed to Oscar that the alpha's gaze was glued to him, following him unrelentingly.

The other drivers, especially those competing for Oscar's attention, immediately noticed the change too, observing the situation with a mixture of confusion and irritation.

After an exhausting qualifying session, Oscar sat on the pit lane barrier, catching his breath. It was too hot; the omega's breathing was heavy and his body was crying out for rest. It was at that moment that Logan approached him, offering his water bottle and smiling warmly.

– You did great, buddy, –he said, sitting down next to Oscar and embracing him. The omega merely nodded in thanks.

Logan, who was passing by with his trainer at the time, stopped in his tracks. He narrowed his eyes and stared at Logan's hand, which was confidently placed on Oscar's shoulder. John, sensing a sudden change in Lando's behaviour, wisely took a step back, leaving his protégé alone with his boiling cocktail of emotions.

– Is something wrong, Norris? – asked Logan, with a knowing look in his eyes. He had noticed Lando staring at them. He was one of the few who knew about their fake relationship, and he was also attentive enough to notice changes in the alpha's behaviour.

Lando clenched his jaw at such an obvious provocation. He approached them slowly and gently but firmly removed Logan's hand from Oscar's shoulder, replacing it with his own.

– Just checking on my omega, – he said in a low voice that surprised even him with its possessive tone. – I also wanted to congratulate you. You got a great result, Osc.

Lando's hand slipped under Oscar's chin and gently turned his head so that he could kiss his cheek.

Logan raised his hands in mock surrender, a broad smile spreading across his face.

– Well, well. He's all yours. – He winked at Oscar and left, leaving a flushed Oscar and an irate but extremely happy Lando.

– What was that? – Oscar looked at Lando with wide, embarrassed eyes. Lando's face was still dangerously close.

– Just wanted to make sure everyone knew, – Lando shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. The blush on his cheeks gave him away, though.

The incident with Logan was only the beginning. Lando was constantly on edge, his eyes scanning the enclosure for any alpha who dared come too close to Oscar. He deftly manoeuvred between Oscar and anyone he deemed a threat, his body language clearly communicating, "Mine".

Max was amused by Lando's newfound possessiveness. He deliberately made long conversations with Oscar, leaning closer to him than necessary, just to watch Lando's reaction. Lando visibly tensed up, pressing his hands to his sides to make sure he didn't do anything he'd regret later.

– He's just being friendly, Lando. – Oscar chuckled, trying to calm the dishevelled alpha, who pouted unhappily. –Because it would be weird if your best friend treated me coldly. Especially considering our past with Max.

– A little too friendly. On edge. – Lando parried easily, the notes of jealousy still echoing in his voice. He couldn't explain the gnawing feeling that lodged tightly in his chest and tormented him. He'd pushed Oscar away for so long that now the thought that Oscar might prefer someone else to him was unbearable.

– You've really started to act inadequate, haven't you? – Max's teasing now haunted Lando constantly. He couldn't let it go unheeded now as Lando led Oscar through the crowded paddock to their hospitality area. His arm rested patronisingly around Oscar's waist and his scent literally screamed for no one to dare approach them.

– I'm just trying to be a good teammate. – Lando tried to put on a casual look, but it was hard to fool the man who knew him so well.

– A good teammate? – Max grinned. – Or are you just an alpha owner?

Lando left Max's question unanswered, but his neck flushed slightly. He couldn't deny it any longer. The thought that Oscar would be courted by someone else, that the omega's warm smiles and gentle touches would be addressed to someone other than him, sent a cold wave of dread through him. He definitely didn't want this scenario to unfold.

– Calm down mate, or you look like you're about to start a war against everyone on the grid. Or anyone who looks at Oscar for more than three seconds. Even if it's your team manager or the president of the FIA himself.

– Shut up, Max. – Lando rolled his eyes, punching his friend in the shoulder. – I'm trying to think of a way to show everyone that Oscar is unavailable, but it's like they don't care about all the signs. I just can't have all these alphas hanging around him like he's available.

– You know, but actually, he is free. – Lando's quiet growl made Max cross his arms over his chest and wrinkle his nose thoughtfully. – You haven't thought about having sex right on the podium, after you win? That would definitely be a message that couldn't be ignored.

– Yeah, it would. Just "do it" in front of the world. – Though he held back the laughter that Max's joke implied, he couldn't deny that the thought sent a wave of heat through him. – That's a great plan.

– Think about it. – A mischievous light sparkled in Max's eyes. – It would be unforgettable. And Oscar would realise how serious you are too.

Max went on talking, but Lando caught himself that he was no longer listening, only occasionally casting quick glances at Oscar, in the depths of which lurked a dangerous interest.

At the same time, Arthur, who had been particularly bold in his advances, seemed to take Lando's increased interest as a personal challenge. Except that now Lando was beside Oscar, silent and wary, and there was a clear warning in his gaze.

At one of the grand prix, after the free races, Lando watched from afar as Arthur approached Oscar at the very moment the omega was discussing something passionately with his race engineer. Oscar didn't immediately notice the youngest of the Leclerc, which allowed Arthur to lean closer, invading the omega's personal space, and then to make his presence known with a gentle gesture: he gently touched Oscar's dishevelled hair, smoothing the dishevelled strands at the back of his head. The gesture was so gentle that Lando's stomach clenched and his chest filled with a familiar rush of possessive feelings. Without thinking, he approached Oscar with a smile on his face that never crossed his eyes, his gait unhurried and his posture deceptively calm.

– Hello, Arthur, – Lando said in a deceptively careless voice. His arm slid around Oscar's waist, pulling the young man slightly towards him, creating distance between Oscar and Arthur. – Baby, are you alright? Do you need anything?

– Oh, I'm fine. – Oscar, startled by Lando's sudden appearance and his imperious gesture, looked at him in surprise. Lando could see the blush spreading across his face at the endearment he had so easily dropped. – Arthur just...

– Just came up for a chat. – Arthur's smug grin irritated Norris more and more. He wanted to do something to wipe it off forever. – Oscar and I share a lot of the same hobbies, you know. Besides racing. Plus I wanted to make sure Oscar was okay. He looks a bit tired.

Arthur made an indefinite gesture with his hand, as if to suggest that Lando wouldn't understand, but Lando's smile grew even sharper, the unspoken message in his gaze unfortunately never reaching Arthur.

– He has me for that, Leclerc, – Lando's voice lowered, a clear threat, and his grip on Oscar's waist grew even tighter. – Besides, you know, it's a little funny, but I thought _my_ omega's main interest outside of racing was... Well, me? Right, baby?

Oscar, furiously embarrassed by what was happening, simply nodded, and the blush that had coloured his cheeks from Lando's unexpected proximity grew even brighter. Lando couldn't hold back a gentle smile at the sight.

– And now we have to go, Zack and Andrea wanted to talk about something about the race tomorrow. But you wouldn't understand, would you? – He gently guided Oscar in the opposite direction of the French alpha, watching with the corner of his eye as his face crinkled in displeasure.

Later that night, back in their shared room, Oscar was studying the telemetry collected today, his delicate scent, undisguised by the drugs, filling the air. Lando, watching him from across the room, was feeling a strange mixture of irritation and something else he couldn't quite put a name to.

– So, – Lando began, feeling the word twisting awkwardly on his tongue. – The younger Leclair seems quite fascinated by you.

– Arthur always acted like that, even when we were in the junior series. – Oscar looked up, his brown eyes widening in surprise, but afterwards he just shrugged lightly. – It's just his way of talking.

– A way of talking? – Lando grinned with bitterness in his voice. – He's practically trying to tag you in front of everyone, Osc. It's not like he communicates like that with everyone.

– You're exaggerating, Lando. – Oscar's tone also showed irritation. – He's just friendly, in his own way.

– Friendly doesn't mean he brings you courtship gifts and touches you every chance he gets, – Lando parried, the jealousy he had so carefully suppressed spilling out. – You are _officially_ my omega, Oscar. You're supposed to be improving my image, not making me look like I can't keep my date from being snatched up by the first alpha that comes along.

Oscar flinched at Lando's harsh words, and Lando felt the now familiar prick of guilt. Oscar no longer looked at him, staring at his notes again, and a tense silence hung between them. It was some time before Oscar spoke again.

– As if I'd ever asked for this. – Oscar's voice was muffled and strained. – All I want to do is just focus on the race.

Lando fell silent, not knowing what to say to that. His anger subsided a little when a dejected expression appeared on Oscar's face. He stared at it, and a new wave of curiosity swept over him. This quiet omega, who seemed so easily grossed out by Lando's slightest attention, wasn't really interested in the number of alphas that Lando thought were circling him like vultures. A complicated Chinese box, not an omega.

Over the next few days, Lando watched Oscar with different eyes. He noticed how Oscar's eyes lit up when he discussed race strategy, the calm determination he showed during practice, the genuine warmth with which he addressed the team's mechanics. He'd seen Oscar discreetly sidestep overly intrusive alphas, masking his discomfort with polite smiles.

Lando himself was beginning to do things he'd never thought of doing before. He brought Oscar his favourite snacks, memorising small details of his preferences that seemed to surprise even Oscar himself. He made sure Oscar was comfortable to rest between races, bringing him extra sweatshirts and blankets if it was too cold and a mini-fan if it was too hot. He even defended Oscar from the flirtations of the other racers, though his tone was harsher than usual.

Oscar, meanwhile, was gradually blossoming under Lando's unexpected attention. Initial upset at their situation was gradually replaced by quiet curiosity and a growing sense of comfort around his teammate. Lando's behaviour, although it sometimes seemed a little excessive to Oscar, the strange sense of protection he evoked enveloped him like a warm blanket, bringing calm and contentment. It was such a stark contrast to Lando's previous indifferent behaviour that Oscar just couldn't bring himself to give it up.

Red flags during rain races were no surprise, so now the whole team was gathered in the garage, waiting for the track to dry out and the race to resume. Oscar was sitting on a tyre and appeared to be a little shivering. Without saying a word, Lando took off his sports jacket and threw it over Oscar's shoulders.

– Lando? You're going to freeze. – Oscar looked at him with eyes wide with surprise. Everyone knew how sensitive Norris was to the cold, so such a gesture was a little strange. Omega tried to take off jacket, but was stopped by Lando's hand.

– No, I'll be fine, – Lando said in a hoarse voice. Yes, the weather was nasty and the cold was getting under the fabric of his racing suit, but his instincts demanded that Omega be taken care of first.

He settled comfortably next to Oscar, so close that their shoulders touched. They sat in cosy silence, watching the rain. Then Oscar leaned his head gently against Lando's shoulder, and a quiet, contented sigh escaped his lips. Lando froze for a second, his heart pounding frantically. Lando's arms slid around Oscar's waist, pulling the omega closer to him to warm each other.

– You're especially sweet today. – Oscar avoided looking Lando in the eye, but there was a small, uncertain smile on his face.

– Was it really that surprising? – Lando's heart made a small leap.

– A little, – Oscar admitted softly, and his smile grew a little wider. – A month ago, you looked like you wanted to set me on fire with your eyes.

– That was before, when I was acting like an idiot. – Lando wrinkled his nose as he listened to Oscar's quiet laughter. – I'm sorry about that, I was an arsehole.

– It's all right, Lan. I understand. – Oscar made himself comfortable in Lando's arms, resting his head more comfortably on his shoulder. They were oddly curved now, but both of them didn't feel uncomfortable.

A wave of warmth came over Lando, a sense of rightness he'd never felt before. The feelings were so real. To him, this had long since been more than just a show for the media and fans, conceived by their team.

He looked at Oscar: his dark fluffy hair contrasted softly with the bright orange fabric of Lando's jacket. He saw the faint smile on Oscar's lips, the relaxed posture of his body. It was at that moment that Lando realised he had hit a snag. The initial irritation, the artificially created anger, the possessive feeling born of wounded pride, all of it had morphed into something else entirely.

Lando understood. He no longer wanted to pretend in front of the cameras. He wanted to be with Oscar for real. He wanted to be the one to make Oscar smile genuinely. He wanted to be the one to put a blanket over him and bring him tea. He wanted to be the one to make all the other alphas back off because Oscar was ‘his’. He pulled the boy tighter against him. He would protect this quiet, perceptive omega. He would cherish him. And he would make sure that everyone, especially the other alphas, knew that Oscar Piastri was off limits. He was Lando Norris's omega in every sense of the word.

He belonged to Lando.

And Lando was going to make sure everyone knew it.

#lando norris #oscar piastri #op81 #ln4 #mctwinks #twinklaren #landoscar #sorry english is not my first language #481 #alpha lando #omega oscar #omegaverse #au #toribellsa fic

49 notes · View notes

mingisprincxss · 3 days ago

Text

Runaway Princess Chapter 1

Summary: Youre being forced by your parents to marry a prince but all you want is to be love and free until the military general is assigned to you because you keep running away and suddenly....things change

Paring: generalmingi x princessreader

Warnings: MDI!! a bit of angst, Smut later on, there's an attack part but nothing too gory

Wordcount: 2,332

Your father stood before the kingdom with your mother, the queen announcing that you will be picking a man to wed. But in reality, THEY had to approve it which means, they were going to pick someone. You stood beside them but further back, annoyed.

You started to escape out the castle often for hours going missing making everybody worried but you just went to a field of flowers to cry and make friends with the bumblebees minding their business and pollinating while you cried.

Every time you returned you were scolded and threatened by your parents. But no matter how hard they tried to increase security, you always managed to escape.

On the day where you had to sit and deal with a bunch of men trying to court you, your father dismissed them and stood next to him was the general, Song Mingi.

He was your parents favorite man because he was the leader in the army and knew how to protect the kingdom. But things were going to change since there was peace in the kingdom.

You sat in your chair head in hand not wanting to look at your father since you wanted no part of this whole "arranged marriage" thing

"y/n, this is general Mingi. I am assigning him to you to watch over you since you like to play your disappearing tricks, he is the head of the army and he's good at what he does. Don't overwork him." Your father said sternly you glanced briefly at the two of them then looking away not saying anything.

After your father left, you quickly got up fixing your dress and quickly walked to your room

But you were being followed this time

You stop at your door and see his shadow behind him as you turn around to make eye contact you semi lose focus with your anger to his charm.

His features were sharp, yet soft. His brown eyes stared into you seriously as he waited for something to happen.

"I'm going into my room. You're not allowed in here." You hiss at him earning a small cocky laugh in return taking you aback

"Your father specifically asked for me to watch over you and I have to be with you at all times." He stated

Your jaw clenched in frustration and then anger took over.

"you people just love to force me around like I'm some puppet! I'm the princess I'm going to do what I want when i want, and I'm going to be in my room ALONE!" You hissed getting in his face

Of course this doesn't phase him, he's the general head of the army hes seen so much worse in his life. You turn quickly to open your door and slam it in his face as he instantly opens it since your father gave him a spare key to your room. But to his surprise, you were quick. He searched the room only to feel a cool draft earning him to move towards the window. And there you were, small outside running away.

"Shit." He said instantly running out if your room to get two of his men Jongho and Yunho out and on horses and quickly running after you.

Usually you would come back after several hours, but this time it started to become golden hour on a summer evening. You didn't care anymore. You wanted to be as far away from the kingdom and away from this forced life as much as possible.

You get to your usual spot in the field and sobbed. All you want is freedom and to be loved genuinely since as you got older, your relationship with your parents diminished and you didn't have many friends besides people who work for your parents so you feel like you couldn't trust anybody. You were lying down when you heard horses galloping and before you could react and run, there was Mingi with two other men.

"Just leave me alone." You begged as he gets off the horse walking towards you

"I have to watch over you, it's your dad's orders. He already knows that you escaped again and is not happy so let's go back before it gets dark princess." He said getting closer

"I'm not going back." You said backing up. Fortunately the bees started loudly buzzing startling the horses as they started jumping and getting anxious causing Mingi and the two men with him to get distracted trying to calm down the horses.

You disappeared again. This time to a part of the field that you have never been to, and soon into a forest near the kingdom. You were always told when you were young to never go to this forest since there are scary wolves that live there. With that in the back of your mind, you didn't care. You were very adamant on permanently running away from the kingdom now that you have somebody watching over you 24/7.

The sky was dimming to darkness and you had no clue where you were all you did was move deeper into the forest until your body grew tired and you sat on a tree stump.

You were thinking of what to do for the night but instantly snapped out of your thoughts when you heard a branch snap.

"I said I'm not coming back I order you to leave me alone" you said thinking that it was Mingi again but you heard growling your heart sank, you honestly thought that the stories of the wolves killing people were just myths you were told to keep you out of the forest weren't true, but as you were approached by a circle of hungry wolves suddenly regret running too far, too deep.

You froze as your chest felt tight, not because of you running in a corset, but because you were surrounded by hungry wolves snarling and smiling at you evily.

One of them lunged at you attacking you as you screamed another one came in ripping your dress and tossing you around as the other one scratched your arm jaws snapping missing you since you were putting up a fight as the other wolves watched hungrily until you heard a horse screeching from behind and as soon as it jumped into proximity, you saw Mingi and some wolves attacked him ripping his clothes but luckily for him he had a sword to fight them off.

Once he was done he instantly rushed to you as you were trying to get on your feet and push him away you felt lightheaded from the adrenaline and collapsed into his arms passed out as he was breathing heavily after the fight.

Quickly he picked you up both you and him on the horse and quickly he got you back to the kingdom and straight to your room with the doctor.

"Lucky for her she and the general only got away with scratches and bruises. But unfortunately, that dress has seen its last days" the doctor said turning to your parents who were absolutely enraged.

"How could you do this to us?!" Your mother scolded you as your father's face was seething with anger.

"You almost killed my best man over you being an immature bitch." He said to you coldly as you avoided eye contact with them

"Well lucky for you I'm alive, and so is she that should be the most important thing out of all of this your highness." Mingi said coming to your defense

"I'm sorry that I let her out of my sight. It wont happen again." He said trying to get up to bow as you rolled your eyes.

"You should be locked up in the dungeon since you want to act like a street rat." Your mom whispered coldly going to smack you but Mingi quickly grabbed your mother's arm as you flinched in preparation for her smack

"I apologize your highness but I don't condone this" he said gently as your mom glared and walked out of your room following your father leaving you and Mingi alone now.

"I don't think youre a street rat." Mingi said breaking the long silence as you cried softly

"But I would love to not get attacked by wolves again, can we compromise on that?" he asked ever so politely

You looked at him with guilt. This man who was very close to your parents was being so kind to you after putting both of your lives at risk. But why?

"Stop the act of being nice, I know you're upset with me. If you're gonna take it out on me then do it." You said standing up and going near him with tear filled eyes

Both of you stare at each other in silence.

"Im not going to hit you your majesty, like I said I just would appreciate that if I'm going to have to chase you again, to not be attacked by wolves" he repeated fixing your messy hair

You huffed sitting on your bed as Mingi went over and rummaged through your vanity to find your hairbrush once he did he made his way back over to you and gently brushed your hair. This was the most intimacy from a man you've had in a long time and it was just a hair brushing

You noticed his cuts were still bleeding through the gauze and he was still going out of his way to take care of you after you put him through all of that.

"I-I'm sorry that you got hurt because of me..." your voice broke still crying

"Well lucky for you, I'm the leader of the military so I'm used to fighting." He laughed still working his way through your hair

There was a brief silence again before he put the hairbrush down

"I hope I did this to your liking." he said as you both looked over at the mirror across the room

All you did was nod quietly.

He put the brush back and turned to look at you again.

"why do you run away anyways?" He asked sitting on your bed next to you

You look at him and this time you REALLY get to look at him his face, broad body, his plush lips and somewhat messy hair. You felt your face getting warm as you opened your mouth to say something he tilt his head in confusion snapping you out of your thoughts.

"It's because even though my parents publicly say that I get to choose who I get to marry it's not true." You said quietly looking away "I want someone that I want. Someone who will actually love me for real" you added "but its impossible" you sighed getting up getting ready to take a shower in your bathroom.

"I guess I can't be alone for this either."You sadly say as Mingi followed you

"I'm only following you in here in case you need help since you're badly bruised." He said with concern

"Or you're just a perve." You mumble wincing taking off your necklace and other jewelry

"Or maybe I'm actually married to someone and I'm just doing my job." He suddenly clapped back helping you untie your corset from the back

You froze as you felt a sudden feeling like you just got shot in the back of the head.....but WHY are you feeling like this?

You turn to face him "You're married?" you say scanning his face disappointment written all over yours for some weird reason

He smirked "No I just didn't appreciate the perve remark," "you seemed very disappointed when i said that" he pointed out causing your face to turn red mainly from embarrassment and slight anger.

You huffed as he headed to the door of the bathroom

"I wont watch you get undressed, just let me know if you need help." he says leaving you alone now confused with your feelings.

After your shower, you put on your silk pajamas and go back into your room.

"I'm proud of you for not escaping!" mingi joked as you rolled your eyes

"I would like to take a shower too before I have to head back to my room for the night if thats okay" He said you lazily nodded as he stepped into the bathroom and closed your door.

He turned on the shower and instantly, curiosity creeped into your mind

You quietly head over to the bathroom door as you heard him taking his clothes off and then seconds later stepping into the shower.

Your hand reaches for the door knob as you tried so stealthy trying not to make noise

"What are you doing?" You say in your head as you peak in through the crack of the door observing Mingi in the shower washing himself his back facing you through the clear sliding door shower the steam danced on his broad upper body the rest of him covered by the towel draping over the bar outside

Quickly coming to your senses and feeling disgusted by your sudden weird actions, you quietly closed the door again and rush over to your bed.

"What the hell was that about?" You whispered to yourself blushing

Maybe youre the perv after all.

A little bit later Mingi came out from the bathroom his uniform half on since he's going to need a new one anyways hair still damp as you looked at him your breath getting caught in your throat

"You okay princess?" He asked snapping you out of your thoughts

"Yes its been a long day, I'm just tired" you said

"Well I hope I can trust you to not escape again" he said heading towards the door to go to his part of the castle for the rest of the night.

"Good Night Princess" he said leaving as you laid in bed staring at the ceiling blankly

Are you catching feelings... for someone who is not a prince?

chapter 2

#Ateez mingi #mingi x reader #ateez #ateezfanfic #mingifanfic #mingi smut #ateez x you

18 notes · View notes

elizabeth-holland24 · 1 day ago

Text

Snowed In at the Country Inn - Chapter 6

The town of Sweetwater’s Holiday Gala was a big deal. An annual, glitter-covered, nostalgia-fuelled explosion of lights, music, and slightly burnt cider. And this year? The whole community centre was getting a makeover, inside and out.

Naturally, Natasha had volunteered the two of you for the bulk of the decorating committee.

"You and Jake are such a dream team," she'd said with a grin that was all too smug. "Might as well put that chemistry to good use."

You'd protested weakly, muttering something about 'community spirit' and 'holiday goodwill,' but you still ended up shoulder to shoulder with Jake Seresin, your name scribbled in glitter pen next to his on a volunteer sign-up sheet.

So here you were, in the middle of the gymnasium, balancing on a ladder to string up fairy lights while Jake held it steady below.

“You sure you don’t want me up there instead?” he called, glancing up with a lopsided smile that had grown frustratingly charming.

“If I trusted you not to slap lights up all uneven, maybe,” you replied, reaching for another hook.

“Ouch. Right in the confidence.”

You bit your cheek to hide your smile, focusing instead on the task at hand. Jake looked particularly relaxed today—flannel sleeves rolled up, easy grin in place. It was annoying how well he wore holiday cheer.

"You know," he added, voice a little softer now, "I think I preferred being trapped with you overnight. Less climbing. More beanbags."

You paused. Your heart gave a traitorous flutter. But before you could form a response, someone called your name from across the room.

"Well, I’ll be damned. Is that you?"

You turned, blinking in surprise. “Lucas?”

He stood with that same lopsided grin you remembered, hands tucked in the pockets of a worn winter jacket. Lucas: the boy who used to share firefly jars with you during childhood summers, who once climbed halfway up a tree to pick you a flower and got stung by a bee for his efforts.

“In the flannel-covered flesh.” He opened his arms, and you laughed, giving him a quick hug. “Wow,” you breathed. “I had no idea you were still going around towns”

“Well, I moved here back last year,” he said, smiling. “Wasn’t expecting to run into you again, though. Thought you were off planning parties in some big city.”

“I was. Am. Kind of... got stranded here,” you admitted, rubbing your neck. “Storm changed a lot of plans.”

Jake watched silently from the ladder base, lips pressed in a neutral line, as you and Lucas talked and laughed like no time had passed.

“Apparently for the better,” he teased, flicking a glance over your shoulder — and that’s when you remembered Jake, standing a few feet away, now unusually quiet.

“Oh—Jake,” you turned, gesturing. “This is Lucas. Lucas, this is Jake Seresin.”

Jake gave a small nod, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “Nice to meet you.”

“Same,” Lucas replied, polite but focused on you. “So, you’re part of the decorating crew too?”

“Against my will,” you joked, nudging him. “They caught me in a vulnerable moment.”

Lucas laughed. “Well, good thing they did. This place could use a little Hallmark magic.”

Jake’s jaw shifted subtly, but you didn’t notice it right away. You were too busy catching up with someone who once knew a softer version of you — before grief, before ambition hardened you.

When you walked off with Lucas to carry a tub of garlands, Jake stayed back, arms crossed, watching.

You didn’t notice the shift in Jake’s expression, but Natasha, who had just walked in with a box of ornaments, certainly did.

She smirked as she passed him. “Looks like someone from her past is full of holiday cheer.”

Jake didn’t answer, just watched the two of you carry a tub of garland off to the corner. His hands flexed slightly at his sides.

Lucas was a piece of your life Jake hadn’t known about—and he didn’t like that.

Natasha sidled up beside him, eyebrows raised. “That wouldn’t be a jealousy scowl I’m seeing, would it?”

“He’s an old friend,” Jake muttered.

“Mmhmm. And yet you look like you want to throw that garland tub at his head.”

He didn’t answer. He just kept watching, as if trying to understand why the sight of you laughing with someone else made his chest feel tight.

You didn’t notice his expression. Not right away. But when you returned to Jake's side, you could feel the shift.

"Something wrong with the lights?" you asked.

"Nope. Just watching our new team recruit make his move."

You blinked. "What? Lucas? He's just being nice."

Jake scoffed. "Sure. Nice. In that 'I-wanna-see-if-she’s-single' kind of nice."

You crossed your arms, a little defensive now. "Even if he was, it’s none of your business."

His eyes locked with yours. "Isn't it?"

There it was again. The air thickening. Something almost real stirring beneath the surface. But you turned away, retreating to the storage boxes under the pretence of needing more tinsel.

By the time evening fell, the whole town seemed to be buzzing with whispers.

Jake and you had been spotted together again. First, the scavenger hunt. Then, the overnight incident. Now, Gala prep.

Mrs. Ellery, the local postmaster, had not-so-subtly winked as she passed by. "You two planning to be on the Gala's kissing contest list? Just saying, there’s a sign-up sheet."

You groaned. Jake, of course, grinned. "Depends. Would I be kissing her as part of the contest, or just because she can't resist me?"

You swatted him with a ribbon spool.

Later that afternoon, you and Jake found yourselves alone again, sorting through tangled tinsel and trying to make sense of an extremely disorganized box labelled “misc.” Jake was unusually quiet. You didn’t notice at first—not until you’d said something about adding bells to the photo booth backdrop, and he hadn’t offered a single sarcastic retort.

“You okay?” you asked. He shrugged. “Just didn’t realize you had someone like Lucas waiting in the wings.”

You frowned. “He’s not waiting. We’re just catching up.” Jake’s eyes flicked to yours. “You looked happy.” You hesitated. “It’s… complicated. He’s from a time when things were simpler. Summer nights and lemonade kind of simple. That doesn’t mean it’s what I want now.” Jake nodded slowly. “Right. The simpler time. Before donuts and Texas boys with too much attitude.”

A laugh escaped you, but you quickly sobered. “I’m just trying to figure things out. I wasn’t expecting… this.”

He stepped closer. “Neither was I.” After that it was quiet, but Jake didn't press. He just nodded and went back to sorting through ribbon. Still, something had shifted. You could feel it in the silence between you, heavier than before.

By evening, the decorating was nearly done. The gym looked like something out of a snow globe—twinkling lights, velvet ribbons, and mistletoe hung at strategic corners.

“Nice work,” Jake said, surveying the space. “We made a decent team.”

You smiled, brushing a bit of glitter from your cheek. “Against all odds.”

Jake stepped closer, just enough to feel the tension hum again between you. He looked down at you like he had something on the tip of his tongue.

“You ever think about staying?” he asked.

You blinked. “What?”

“Here. In Sweetwater. You said it reminds you of a town when you were a kid. You seem… like you fit.”

You swallowed. “Jake, this is temporary. I’m only here because I got sent by a Santa.”

He nodded slowly. “Right. Of course.”

But the way he looked at you—soft, almost unsure—told you that maybe he was starting to wish it wasn’t so temporary.

You opened your mouth to say something, maybe even soften it, but then your phone buzzed. A text from Lucas.

Got the cocoa station lights working. Still up for cocoa tonight?

You felt Jake glance at the screen. You didn’t answer right away.

And that silence said enough—for now.

Jake stood too. But he didn’t chase the moment.

He just said softly, "You know, I meant it. Something changed."

You turned to him fully, heart caught somewhere between fear and hope. “So what now?”

Jake looked at you, really looked, like every ounce of charm was stripped back. “Now, well, It's up to you. It's your move, but maybe… maybe you could let me keep trying to earn a place in your plans.”

You didn’t say anything right away.

Because something had to change. And that was the scariest part of all.

A/N: Here is another chapter in celebration, I'm almost done with my 1st week back at college. Who gave me the confidence to think that taking calc 3 and differential equations would be easy. I want to die, and it's only the first week.

15 notes · View notes

yandere-daydreams · 1 year ago

Text

you either die a geto enjoyer or live long enough to see yourself become a gojo stan. sigh.

#he's just a FUNNY LITTLE GUY you don't get it #he's so annoying... but it's part of his charm... but he's so annoying...#i would put him in the blender i think #but i would also tuck him in gently and kiss is forehead #i think literally every other jjk man is probably a better long-term partner BUT #nobody would be quite as codependent as gojo #and sometimes you just want a man who'd show up at your house in tears if you left him on read for twenty minutes y'know #personal

265 notes · View notes

jesterwaves · 4 months ago

Text

i did wheel spins and coin flips to decide on a name but im still not sure so if u see this again in a week and his names different that's why. anyway, here's Bat!

Damien only recently moved to the city, just in time to watch Rainbow's debut fight. They inspired him to join the fight for the good of the world with the bat-shaped charm he found buried during a rainstorm.

Somehow, he convinced Rainbow to let him work with them. Most people call him their sidekick, but he thinks that his more upfront fighting style should mean it's the other way around... Still, if it weren't for them, he probably would have been unmasked countless times already.

#my art #my ocs #oc:bat #oc:damien #more little things about him i couldnt fit in the post: he likes to call Rainbow 'Bow'#he feels he can only be himself as Bat (opposed to Rainbow's relationship w/ their identity)#originally part of the joke w/ him was that he only listened to pop music and it drove Grey crazy cuz they listen to a lot of punk stuff #but it started being annoying so it's not canon anymore. but i do think he's a little clueless about music stuff...but open to learning and #expanding his tastes #there may be a voice that speaks to him in the charm. idk.#originally rainbow received their powers in a similar way but the lightning strike was too cool to not do.#and yes he is a magical boy.#adrian was in the running 4 his name. and then i realized. the colors are very similar to adrien of m/l fame.... it's unintentional.#felix also was in the running.... my second choice. it still has a chance 2 become his name if i feel like it.

3 notes · View notes

hjemne · 1 year ago

Text

I hate being queer bc if two cishets of diff genders talked for 3 hours alone in a club and held hands and walked home together afterwards you'd know where it was going, and yet the best we can get is a goodbye hug and ig DM ahhhbhhh

#he's from ohio so y'all Americans can tell me what that makes you feel #but also ahghhhdggshd hes gorgeous i need him but i don't wanna make the first move and potentially be disrespectful #i also charmed the fuck out of a polish friend by knowing kanapke #anyway hi man from rural ohio i want you carnally what part of 'try on my coat' didnt u understand #rambles #sleeby timenow #but like also i cannot blame and will not get in any way annoyed at a trans person for holding back just a little #but also HI your hands fit so perfectly in mine like hello

7 notes · View notes

blueberrisdove-sideblog · 3 months ago

Text

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ་༘ SQUIRTING FOR THE FIRST TIME ?!

． paring: Caleb, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Rafayel x bratty fem!reader

．summary: how they react when you squirt for the first time!

．warnings: nsfw/smut, creampie, tit fucking, cum-play, rough s*x, cow girl, mirror s*x, spanking, hair pulling, Caleb is a switch (sub to dom), pussy slapping, fingering, nipple sucking and biting.

．note : not proof read also the art is by : rororo_mg on X. Also dunno if this is ooc for them! Also zayne’s part is very long. ^_^

＠ 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁 ；

Caleb always had that cocky little smirk when he looked at you, all charm and mischief, like he knew exactly what you were up to before you even opened your mouth. And right now, that smirk was stretched wide as he laid beneath you, his hands gripping your thighs while you rocked against his cock, taking him deeper with every bounce.

“God, babe,” he groaned, breath hot against your skin as he pushed himself up just enough to mouth at your tits, teasing one nipple between his lips. “You’re so fuckin’ tight.”

You rolled your hips a little harder just to hear him moan, just to feel the way his cock twitched inside you. “Yeah?” You panted, fingers threading through his sweat-damp hair, tugging just enough to make him look up at you. “I thought pilots were supposed to have more stamina than this.”

His eyes darkened at that, something shifting in the way he gripped you—less playful, more possessive. “Oh, you wanna play like that, pipsqueak?” His voice was rough, teasing, but there was an edge to it now, one that made your stomach clench with anticipation.

Before you could get another smart remark out, he bucked his hips up, thrusting into you hard enough to knock the air from your lungs. A gasp caught in your throat as your clit rubbed right up against his abs, the pressure sparking something electric inside you.

“Shit—” you whined, fingers digging into his shoulders.

Caleb smirked, hands sliding up your waist before one gripped your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Not so mouthy now, huh?”

You should’ve been annoyed—maybe even fought back a little—but the way he was fucking up into you, the way his cock stretched you just right, made it impossible to do anything but whimper. His abs were slick with sweat, flexing beneath you every time he moved, and that friction against your clit was too much.

“Baby—” your voice cracked, body tensing. “Fuck, I—”

Caleb groaned at the way your walls fluttered around him, at the way you trembled in his hold. “Gonna come for me?” He muttered, dragging his thumb over your clit, slow and deliberate. “Go on, pipsqueak, make a mess.”

The coil in your stomach snapped all at once, white-hot pleasure ripping through you as you came harder than you ever had before. Your entire body shook, legs squeezing tight around his waist as the pressure inside you exploded—soaking his cock, his abs, everything beneath you.

“Holy fuck.” His voice was thick with awe and something even deeper, fingers digging into your hips as he fucked you through it, prolonging every second of your high. “Did you just—”

You couldn’t even answer, gasping for air as aftershocks shuddered through you. Caleb swore under his breath, hands roaming up your back before he flipped you onto your back in one smooth motion. His cock was still buried deep inside you, still hard, still throbbing.

“Didn’t know you had that in you,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours as he rolled his hips, slow and teasing, making you whimper. “Guess I’ll have to make you do it again, huh?”

Caleb let out a breathless laugh, brushing his fingers over the slick mess coating his abs. His smirk was cocky as ever, but there was something else in his eyes—something darker, more ravenous.

“Damn, pipsqueak,” he murmured, voice husky as he rocked his hips forward again, making you gasp. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

Your whole body was still trembling, oversensitive, but the way his cock dragged against your walls, still so deep, had heat pooling in your stomach all over again.

“Shut up,” you muttered, trying to sound confident, but your voice was wrecked, breathy.

He just grinned, leaning in so close his lips brushed against your ear. “Oh? Thought you liked mouthing off.” His hips rolled forward, slow and deliberate, and you whined at the way your clit dragged against his abs again. “What happened, babe? Already fucked dumb?”

You clenched around him, hands gripping his biceps, trying to push him away just to get a second to breathe. But Caleb wasn’t having it.

“Nuh-uh,” he murmured, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head. His strength was effortless, like he wasn’t even trying. “I haven’t even started with you yet.”

Your stomach flipped at the way he said it, that teasing lilt still in his voice, but there was something serious underneath—something that made your pulse stutter.

“Y’know,” he mused, dragging his lips down the column of your throat, pressing just hard enough to make you squirm, “I think I like you better like this. All messy and fucked out.”

You glared at him, trying to get some control back. “I can still—”

He didn’t let you finish. One sharp thrust sent you keening, your back arching as his cock hit that spot deep inside you, sending sparks dancing up your spine.

“What was that, babe?” Caleb’s voice was thick with amusement, but his breathing was rough now, too, his control starting to slip. “Didn’t catch that.”

You couldn’t even answer, too lost in the way he was moving—deep and precise, grinding against your clit just enough to keep you on edge.

“Yeah,” he muttered, nipping at your jaw, “that’s what I thought.”

And then he really started fucking you.

The slow, teasing pace was gone. He set a ruthless rhythm, hips snapping against yours, the sound of skin meeting skin mixing with your ragged moans. His grip on your wrists tightened, keeping you pinned beneath him as he chased his own pleasure, his abs flexing against your clit with every thrust.

“You feel so fucking good,” he groaned, pressing his forehead against yours. “Can’t believe you were holding out on me, pipsqueak.”

Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in deeper, and Caleb cursed, his cock twitching inside you.

“Shit—‘m close,” he gritted out, voice strained. “Gonna let me fill you up, baby? Hm?”

The way he said it sent you spiraling, your orgasm slamming into you so hard your vision blurred. Your whole body clenched around him, nails digging into his shoulders as you cried out, barely aware of anything but the white-hot pleasure consuming you.

Caleb swore, hips stuttering, before he buried himself deep with a rough groan, spilling inside you, heat flooding your core. His grip on your wrists loosened, and he slumped forward, breathless, his forehead pressing against yours.

For a second, neither of you moved, just panting, your bodies still tangled together. Then, Caleb let out a breathless chuckle.

“Well, damn,” he muttered, pressing a lazy kiss to your lips. “First time for everything, huh?”

＠ 𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄 ；

The soft hum of the med bay was comforting, a backdrop to the electrifying tension building between you and Zayne. He leaned against the counter, a playful grin spreading across his face as he watched you with those piercing eyes, the warmth of his gaze making your heart race.

“You know, I’m technically on duty,” he said, amusement lacing his voice as he crossed his arms.

You smirked, leaning back against the examination table. “Aren’t you supposed to be taking care of your patients, Doctor?”

Zayne stepped closer, the playful edge in his demeanor sharpening. “Oh, trust me, I have my hands full with you.”

With a swift movement, he caught your waist, lifting you effortlessly onto the table. The contact sent a thrill of excitement coursing through you. “Now, what seems to be the problem?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.

“Just a little ache,” you replied, biting your lip as you glanced down at his firm body. “Right here.” You pressed your thighs together, the heat pooling in your core making it hard to concentrate.

“Let me see if I can help with that.” Zayne's hands slid up your sides, thumbs brushing over your tits before he leaned in, pressing a heated kiss to your lips. The way his mouth moved against yours ignited something deep within you, and you responded eagerly, your hands tangling in his hair.

Zayne pulled back just enough to look at you, his expression a mix of mischief and desire. “You’re gonna need to be more specific.”

With a determined glint in your eye, you gripped his shirt, pulling him closer. “I want you to make me feel good, Doctor.”

He chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. “Well, I do love a challenge.”

In an instant, he had you pinned against the table, his hands exploring your body with expert precision. His mouth found its way to your tits, hot and wet as he sucked and teased, his hands trailing down your sides. Every flick of his tongue sent shivers down your spine, making your breath hitch.

“Zayne,” you gasped, arching into him as pleasure coursed through you.

He pulled back, eyes dark with lust. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

Zayne knelt before you, hands gripping your thighs as he spread your legs apart, his breath hot against your core. “Let’s see just how responsive you are.”

His fingers slid between your folds, teasing your clit with gentle strokes that sent waves of pleasure crashing over you. You gasped, arching your back as he worked you closer to the edge.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “So responsive, so eager.”

You whimpered, fingers tightening in his hair as he curled his fingers inside you, hitting that perfect spot with every thrust. “Zayne, please,” you begged, unable to control the desperate need building inside you.

“Please what?” He smirked, clearly enjoying the power he had over you. “Tell me exactly what you want.”

“More,” you gasped, your hips rolling against his hand. “I want to come—please!”

With a wicked grin, he obliged, quickening the pace of his fingers, his thumb rubbing firm circles on your clit. The pressure built rapidly, the heat spreading through you until it consumed every thought.

“Come for me,” he commanded, voice low and sultry. “I want to see you fall apart.”

That was all it took. Your orgasm hit you like a freight train, waves of pleasure crashing over you as you squirted all over him, soaking his fingers and the floor beneath you. You cried out, your body trembling as Zayne worked you through it, his gaze filled with a mix of awe and hunger.

“Damn,” he breathed, wiping his fingers on his shirt, clearly enjoying the mess you’d made. “You really know how to make a doctor’s day.”

You shot him a playful glare, breathless but eager for more. “Don’t think you’re done with me yet.”

Zayne chuckled, leaning in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

In one swift motion, he pulled you upright, his hands gripping your hair as he pressed you back against the table, his gaze intense and commanding. “Now, let’s see just how far we can push your limits.”

Zayne's grip on your hair tightened as he leaned closer, his breath hot against your skin. “You made quite the mess, babe. I hope you’re ready for round two.”

You felt a rush of excitement at his words, your body still buzzing from the intense release. “I can take it,” you replied, trying to sound confident even as your heart raced in anticipation.

“Good,” he said, a predatory gleam in his eyes. “Because I’m just getting started.”

Zayne positioned himself between your legs, his hands roaming down your thighs as he leaned in to plant teasing kisses along your stomach. You squirmed beneath him, your skin alive with sensitivity, every touch sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

“Let’s make sure those lovely tits get the attention they deserve,” he murmured, his mouth finally closing around one of your nipples, sucking and teasing it with his tongue.

You gasped, arching your back as waves of pleasure radiated from your chest. “Zayne, that feels so good,” you breathed, fingers digging into the table as you pushed against him, craving more.

He glanced up at you, eyes dark with desire. “I love hearing you say that,” he said, switching to your other nipple, giving it the same attention while his fingers trailed down your stomach to your slick folds.

With deft fingers, he teased your clit again, circling and pressing just right as he continued to suckle your breast. The combination of sensations had your head spinning, your body responding eagerly to his every touch.

“Z—Zayne, pleaseeee,” you whimpered, feeling the familiar tension building once more.

“Please what?” he taunted, his breath hot against your skin. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Just… don’t stop,” you managed to gasp, urgency creeping into your voice.

“Good answer,” he said, a satisfied smirk on his face as he increased the pressure, fingers moving faster as he thrust two of them deep inside you. The sudden stretch made you moan loudly, your hips grinding against his hand instinctively.

“Look at you, baby,” he teased, his voice low and sultry. “So fucking desperate for my cock.”

“Zayne, I need you,” you breathed, the ache between your legs becoming unbearable. “Please.”

“Alright, but first…” He pulled back slightly, positioning himself between your thighs again. “I want you to try something new.”

Before you could process what he meant, he guided your hands to your breasts, encouraging you to squeeze and play with them while he pumped his cock in front of you. The sight of him, so hard and ready, made your mouth water.

“Tit fuck me,” he commanded, his voice low and demanding. “Show me how much you want it.”

You nodded eagerly, wrapping your hands around your tits and pressing them together, creating a perfect valley for his cock. The warmth of your body against him made Zayne groan, and you felt a thrill at the power you held over him, even as he watched you with a hungry gaze.

“Just like that, babe. Perfect,” he encouraged, guiding his cock between your tits, the sensation driving you wild.

You could hardly believe how good it felt, his cock sliding between your flesh as you pushed your chest together tighter, looking up at him through your lashes. “You like this, huh?”

“Fuck yes,” he grunted, his hands gripping your wrists as he pushed himself deeper between your tits. “You’re so good at this, baby.”

The heat in your core grew as you continued, each thrust of his cock making you wetter, slickness pooling between your legs. Zayne was losing himself in the pleasure, eyes rolling back as he thrust deeper, each movement sending waves of satisfaction through both of you.

“Damn, I’m gonna come,” he warned, his voice strained, as he watched you with pure lust.

“Do it,” you urged, the thrill of it all pushing you closer to your own edge. “I want to feel you.”

With a deep groan, Zayne thrust forward one last time, his cock hitting the perfect spot as he spilled himself between your breasts, warm ropes of cum painting your skin.

“Oh my God,” you gasped, watching the sight of him losing control over you, his chest heaving as he caught his breath.

“Now, that’s a mess,” he chuckled, looking down at the sticky fluid covering your chest. “You’re lucky I like it messy.”

You smiled, feeling a rush of confidence at the way he watched you. “I think I might have to return the favor, Doctor.”

Zayne raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Oh really? And how do you plan on doing that?”

With a mischievous grin, you slid off the table, dropping to your knees in front of him, looking up at him with a playful glint in your eye. “Let me show you.”

He let out a low laugh, clearly impressed by your boldness. “I’m all yours, baby.”

Zayne leaned down, his fingers sliding into your hair, yanking your head back just enough to make you gasp. His smirk was wicked, voice dripping with satisfaction. “You’re still feeling bold, huh? Let’s see how long that lasts.”

Before you could fire back, he flipped you over, pressing your chest flat against the examination table. His large hands gripped your ass, spreading you open as he dragged the tip of his cock through your slick folds, teasing your clit until you squirmed beneath him.

“Look at you, so fucking wet,” he murmured, his free hand coming down hard on your ass. The sharp sting made you jolt, a needy whimper escaping you. “You act like a brat, but your body tells me exactly what you want.”

“Shut up and fuck me,” you bit out, pushing back against him.

Zayne chuckled darkly. “Still mouthing off?” He didn’t wait for an answer—he thrust into you in one smooth motion, stretching you open as his cock filled you completely.

Your fingers clawed at the table as a strangled moan left your lips. “Fuck—Zayne!”

“That’s right, baby. Let me hear you,” he groaned, setting a brutal pace. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the med bay, mixed with the filthy wet sounds of him fucking you deep.

His grip tightened on your hips, pulling you back onto his cock harder. The angle had him slamming against your g-spot with every thrust, sending pleasure surging through your body.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he growled, one hand slipping between your legs, fingers finding your clit. He rubbed firm, tight circles, making your legs shake. “I can feel you squeezing me—getting close, aren’t you?”

You were falling apart too fast, the heat coiling in your stomach, the relentless pace of his cock driving you straight to the edge. “Z-Zayne, I—”

“I know, baby,” he murmured, his voice dropping into something dark and commanding. “Come for me. I want to feel you gush all over my cock.”

His fingers pressed harder against your clit, and just like that, the pleasure hit you like a tidal wave. Your body locked up, back arching as you came hard, a sharp cry ripping from your throat as you squirted all over him.

“Fuck yes,” Zayne groaned, watching you soak him. “That’s my good girl.”

Your body trembled, but he didn’t stop. He pulled out just long enough to spread your slickness all over his cock, smearing your wetness against your folds before thrusting back into you with a deep, guttural moan.

The overstimulation had you whimpering, but the pleasure was addicting, your walls fluttering around him as he chased his own release.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he rasped, his thrusts turning erratic. “Gonna fill you up—”

With one last deep thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, groaning as he spilled inside you, hot cum flooding your pussy. He rocked his hips a few more times, letting you feel every drop before slowly pulling out.

A filthy wet sound followed, his cum oozing from your used hole. Zayne hummed in approval, dragging his fingers through the mess before pushing some of it back inside you, his smirk downright sinful.

“Can’t let it go to waste,” he murmured, watching as you twitched beneath him, body still sensitive. “You look so damn pretty like this, baby.”

You shuddered, still trying to catch your breath, but managed to shoot him a glare. “You’re a menace.”

Zayne only chuckled, sliding his arms around your waist to pull you into his lap, pressing a slow, teasing kiss to your lips. “And yet, you keep coming back.”

You sighed, leaning into him, exhaustion and satisfaction settling over you. “…Shut up.”

His grin widened. “Whatever you say, babe.”

＠ 𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑 ；

Xavier had you sprawled out beneath him, his toned body hovering over yours as his fingers ghosted over your skin, teasing, taunting, driving you insane. His sharp blue eyes gleamed with amusement as he trailed his hand between your thighs, brushing over your already swollen clit.

“Mm, look at you,” he mused, voice smooth, dripping with arrogance. “So desperate for me, and yet you were acting like a little brat just a few minutes ago.”

You huffed, shifting beneath him, trying to grind against his hand. “Maybe if you weren’t so slow, I wouldn’t have to be.”

Xavier chuckled, but the amusement in his eyes darkened, something more dangerous lurking beneath. “Oh? Is that right?”

Before you could process it, his palm cracked against your thigh, then your ass, the sharp sting sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

“Ah—Xavier!” you yelped, the sound melting into a moan as he smoothed his hand over the heated skin.

“Now, that’s better,” he murmured, fingers dipping back between your folds, slipping through the wetness there. “God, you’re soaked, babe. You really do like being put in your place, don’t you?”

You bit your lip, refusing to answer, but a sharp slap to your ass had you gasping.

“I asked you a question,” he said, his voice all silk and steel.

“…Maybe,” you muttered, face burning.

He tsked, but you could hear the smirk in his voice. “You’re such a pain in the ass.” Another sharp slap made you whimper. “But you’re my pain in the ass.”

You shivered at that, but before you could say anything else, Xavier finally gave in, pushing two fingers into your pussy, stretching you open. The pleasure was immediate, your back arching as he curled them just right, finding that spot that made you tremble.

“Xavier—”

“I know, baby,” he purred, working his fingers faster, pressing his thumb to your clit. “You’re taking me so well.”

Your breath hitched as the pleasure built fast, the coil in your stomach tightening with every stroke. “I-I need more—”

He smirked. “More?” He withdrew his fingers, ignoring your whine of protest as he leaned back, positioning himself between your legs. “Guess I’ll just have to fuck you properly then.”

You barely had a second to react before he was pushing inside, stretching you open with his cock. The stretch was intense, your walls fluttering around him as he bottomed out, a low groan slipping from his lips.

“Fuck, you feel perfect,” he murmured, rolling his hips, making you whimper. “So damn tight, baby.”

His hands gripped your hips, setting a ruthless pace, each thrust hitting deep, rubbing against that spot that had you seeing stars. The pleasure was dizzying, your tits bouncing with every movement, heat building in your stomach at an alarming pace.

Xavier watched you, a smug smirk curling his lips. “You’re close, aren’t you?”

You could barely think, barely breathe, the pressure in your core reaching its peak. “X-Xavier, I—”

“I want to see you lose control,” he rasped, his thumb rubbing messy circles against your clit, pushing you over the edge. “Come for me, babe.”

And just like that, the tension snapped, pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your whole body shuddered as you came, the force of it so intense that you felt yourself squirt all over his abs.

A strangled moan left your lips, your mind hazy as you collapsed beneath him, body twitching from the aftershocks.

Xavier stilled for a moment, glancing down at the mess you’d made, before a slow, wicked grin spread across his face. “Oh, baby,” he murmured, running a hand over his slick-covered abs before bringing it to his lips, licking it off with a satisfied hum. “That was fucking hot.”

Your face burned, embarrassment creeping in, but before you could protest, he thrust into you again, making you gasp.

“Oh no,” he chuckled darkly. “We’re not done yet. I need to see you do that again.”

And with the way he was looking at you—hungry, insatiable—you knew you were in for a long night.

＠ 𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒 ；

Sylus sat with his back against the headboard, his toned arms resting lazily on the pillows, watching you with those piercing red eyes. His expression was unreadable—calm, controlled—but the way his fingers kneaded into your thighs told you everything. He was holding back. Letting you set the pace. But for how long?

You were straddling his lap, his cock buried deep inside you, stretching you open in a way that had your whole body trembling. Your hands were planted on his chest, nails pressing into his skin as you struggled to move, overwhelmed by the sheer fullness of him.

“Look at you,” Sylus murmured, voice smooth, laced with amusement. “Acting all shy now.” His fingers tightened on your hips. “Didn’t seem so shy when you were teasing me earlier, baby.”

Your face burned, but you still mustered up a glare. “I wasn’t teasing,” you muttered, shifting slightly, gasping when the movement made his cock press even deeper.

His lips quirked, but his patience was wearing thin. “No? Then what do you call sitting in my lap, grinding against me, acting like you weren’t desperate to be fucked?”

Your breath hitched, and you looked away, refusing to answer.

Sylus hummed, his hands sliding up to your waist, his grip steady but firm. “That’s what I thought.” He guided you up, just enough for the tip of his cock to nearly slip out before dragging you back down onto him. A sharp gasp tore from your lips, your nails raking over his chest as pleasure shot up your spine.

The stretch was too much, the sensation unbearable in the best way. You wanted to move, to fuck yourself on his cock properly, but your body was weak, trembling from how deep he reached inside you.

A whimper escaped your lips, and Sylus groaned at the sound, his composure slipping. “Fuck, baby,” he murmured, his fingers digging into your soft flesh. “You feel so fucking good.”

Your thighs burned, struggling to keep up with the pace you wanted, and he noticed. The second you faltered, Sylus’s control snapped.

“Can’t do it yourself, huh?” he mused, though his voice was rougher now, his patience long gone. “That’s fine. I’ve got you.”

Before you could react, he gripped your ass, holding you still as he rolled his hips up into you, slow but deep, dragging a broken moan from your lips. Then he did it again. And again.

The pace was brutal, his cock hitting spots that had you gripping onto him for dear life, pleasure mounting too fast to control. Your clit throbbed, the friction driving you higher, pushing you toward a peak that felt different—more intense, more overwhelming than anything you’d ever felt.

“S-Sylus—”

“I know, baby,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your throat. “You’re gonna come for me, aren’t you?”

You could only nod, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps.

“Then let go,” he rasped, one hand sliding between you to rub your clit, his thrusts never slowing. “Come for me.”

The coil in your stomach snapped, pleasure crashing over you with a force that left you gasping, your whole body shuddering as the orgasm ripped through you. A sharp cry tore from your lips as you felt it—felt yourself squirt, the rush of liquid soaking Sylus’s cock, dripping down onto his thighs.

A deep groan rumbled from his chest, his red eyes dark with something primal as he watched you tremble in his lap, completely wrecked.

“Fuck, baby,” he muttered, voice thick with hunger. “Didn’t know you could do that.”

You barely had the energy to respond, your body still pulsing from the aftershocks, but Sylus wasn’t finished. His hands flexed on your waist before he thrust up into you again, burying himself deep as his own release hit, warmth flooding your insides as he came.

Your body slumped against his, breathless, skin slick with sweat. Sylus ran a hand through your hair, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple, his other hand lazily trailing over your thigh, brushing against the mess between your legs.

“Looks like I fucked you stupid,” he murmured, smug.

Your weak glare didn’t faze Sylus in the slightest. If anything, it made him smirk, that lazy, knowing expression that only made your stomach tighten all over again. His fingers traced over your thigh, slipping dangerously close to the mess between your legs, deliberately teasing.

“You made a mess, baby,” he murmured, voice thick with amusement. “Didn’t expect you to squirt like that.” His thumb brushed your swollen clit, making your body jolt against him.

Your breath hitched, still sensitive from your orgasm, but Sylus didn’t care. He spread his fingers, rubbing your pink and creamy slick over your inner thighs, then over his cock, still buried inside you, his release mixing with the wetness between your legs.

“Feel that?” His voice dropped lower, more deliberate. “You’re still drippin’ all over me.”

A whimper escaped your lips as he pressed down on your clit, rubbing slow, tight circles. Your body twitched from the overstimulation, your thighs trembling on either side of him.

“S-Sylus—”

“Hmm?” His free hand slid up your body, fingers curling around your tits, kneading the soft flesh. “Something wrong?”

You shuddered, hips jerking involuntarily against his touch. “Too much—”

He only chuckled, rolling a nipple between his fingers while keeping steady pressure on your clit. “Too much, huh?” He tilted his head, eyes burning into yours. “That’s funny, baby, ’cause your pussy is still clenching around me like you want more.”

Your breath came in short, uneven gasps, torn between sensitivity and the sharp need still buzzing under your skin. He was pushing you past your limit, and he knew it.

Sylus shifted, pressing you down against his chest, trapping you against his heat. His lips brushed over your jaw, his breath warm against your skin. “Be good for me,” he murmured, a sharp contrast to the way his fingers slid between your folds, spreading your slick. “Let me have one more.”

You whimpered, body tensing, but when he thrust up into you—slow, deep, filling you all over again—the last of your resistance crumbled.

＠ 𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋 ；

Rafayel’s eyes locked onto yours, that intense pink and blue gaze igniting a fire inside you. He stepped closer, his smirk teasing as he caught the challenge in your expression. “Feeling mean today, huh?”

“Maybe I am,” you shot back, a playful glint in your eye. “What are you going to do about it?”

Without warning, he lifted you effortlessly, settling you on the edge of the bed. You felt your heart race as he knelt before you, his hands gripping your thighs, spreading your legs apart.

“You know I love it when you act like this,” he said, a low growl in his voice as his fingers slid between your wet folds, teasing your pussy. “But let’s see how long you can keep up that attitude.”

His fingers worked expertly, stroking your clit and plunging deep into your slick heat. “You’re already soaked, baby. Can’t resist me, can you?”

You gasped, trying to maintain your defiance but quickly losing your resolve. “Shut up, Raf.”

“Make me,” he challenged, his smirk growing wider as he thrust his fingers deeper, curling them to hit that spot inside you. Your breath hitched, and your back arched as pleasure coursed through you.

“Raf, please,” you whimpered, squirming against his touch, desperate for more.

He didn’t waste any time; with one swift motion, he positioned himself at your entrance, his cock throbbing and ready. “Tell me how bad you want it.”

“I want it,” you begged, feeling the need building inside you. “Please!”

“Good girl,” he said, and in one powerful thrust, he filled you completely. You gasped at the stretch, his cock hitting all the right spots. “Look at you, so fuckin’ needy.”

He set a brutal rhythm, thrusting deep and hard, his body slamming into yours as he kept his eyes locked on yours, watching every reaction. The pressure built inside you, the familiar tension coiling tighter with each thrust.

“Raf, I’m so close!” you cried, feeling your body ready to explode.

“Just a little more, baby. Let it happen,” he urged, his pace relentless, driving you closer to the edge.

With one final thrust, everything snapped. You felt the overwhelming wave of pleasure crash over you as you squirted for the first time, soaking his cock and the sheets beneath you. Your body trembled, and cries escaped your lips as pleasure washed over you in waves.

Rafayel grunted, his thrusts becoming more frantic as he watched you come undone. “That’s it! Just like that!” he growled, losing himself in the sensation.

“Raf!” you screamed, unable to contain the intense pleasure coursing through you.

“Fuck, I’m right there!” he grunted, thrusting deep as he chased his own release, filling you with his warmth as you both rode the wave together.

Breathless, he collapsed against you, the heat of your bodies mingling as you came down from the high. “You really know how to make things wild,” he panted, a satisfied grin plastered across his face.

Rafayel's grin returned as he caught his breath, that playful glint never leaving his eyes. “Damn, babe, you really squirted everywhere,” he said, looking down at the mess you both made. “Guess I really know how to get you going.”

You laughed breathlessly, the tension from earlier still buzzing in your body. “Yeah, well, maybe you should get used to it.”

“Oh, I plan to,” he shot back, a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he playfully nudged you with his knee. “Ready for round two?”

With a quick movement, he turned you around, positioning you on all fours. “Time to show you how fun mirror sex can be,” he teased, guiding himself back inside you from behind.

“Just look at those tits bouncing,” he remarked, his voice light and teasing. “I could watch this all day.”

You felt the familiar mix of pleasure and irritation bubbling up, but the way he kept his tone silly made it hard to stay mad. “You’re ridiculous,” you replied, pushing back against him, wanting more of that delicious friction.

“Ridiculously good at this, right?” he quipped, thrusting harder, the sound of skin slapping filling the air. “Feel that, babe? You like it when I hit you like this?”

“God, yes!” you cried, loving the way his cock filled you up, the way he perfectly mirrored your movements, matching your pace with every thrust.

“Then let’s make a mess again,” he grinned, his tone dripping with playful confidence. With each thrust, he picked up speed, pushing you closer to that familiar edge.

“Raf, I’m close!” you gasped, your clit rubbing against the bed as he drove deeper.

“Let it go, babe,” he urged, his hands gripping your hips tightly, guiding your movements as you both built toward that climax again. “I want to see you squirt again.”

With his words igniting something primal within you, you surrendered to the pleasure, feeling the tension build until it burst. You squirted again, moaning as pleasure washed over you, the sensation more intense this time as he continued to thrust, sending you spiraling into ecstasy.

“Fuck yes! That’s my girl!” he shouted, his own release following closely as he filled you up, both of you lost in the bliss of the moment.

As you both caught your breath, Rafayel leaned down, his playful demeanor returning, pulling you back against his chest. “You ready for round three? I think we can make an even bigger mess this time.”

You smiled, the warmth of his body against yours making you feel alive. “Bring it on, babe. I’m ready for whatever you’ve got.”

© 2024-2025 blueberrisdove-sideblog all rights reserved. pretty please, do not steal my dividers, translate and plagiarize any of my works, or either repost my works in any other platform without asking, thank you!

13K notes · View notes

itendtothinkalot · 2 months ago

Text

u talk, i listen

summary: you’re loud, dramatic, and one emotional spiral away from a breakdown. he’s quiet, calm, and allergic to unnecessary words. at first, you drive him insane but maybe that’s part of your charm. you make the chaos, and he makes sure you don’t burn the whole world down with it.

genre: fluff | hyper gf x calm bf

characters: sunghoon x f!reader

words: 13k

warnings: none i think!

The first time you met Park Sunghoon, you’re pretty sure he hates you.

To be fair, it was your first day, and Ni-ki—who you knew for exactly ten minutes—told you pressing the green button on the espresso machine would help "wake it up."

It did not.

Instead, it made the machine scream, shoot steam into your face, and sent you stumbling backward with a noise that sounded suspiciously like a dying goose. A tray of croissants nearly went down with you.

“OH MY GOD—Ni-ki!” a voice shrieked from somewhere near the pastry display.

You coughed, flailed, and possibly cried, when someone silently reached past you and switched the machine off with a flick of his wrist. No words. Just calm, collected competence. The kind that makes you feel even more like a human disaster.

You looked up—and saw him. Park Sunghoon.

He’s quiet. Like, unnervingly quiet. Dressed in black from head to toe with his sleeves rolled just enough to show his veins (rude), and eyes that flick to you once before looking away again. Not a single word. Just a blank expression like you’re a fly he’s choosing not to swat.

“Don’t mind him,” Sunoo said, swooping in with a comforting hand on your shoulder. “That’s Sunghoon. He doesn’t talk much, but he’s not mean. I promise.”

“I didn’t say he was mean,” you muttered, still trying to rearrange the croissants you nearly obliterated.

“You thought it, though,” Sunoo grinned, like he’s already read your soul.

Meanwhile, Ni-ki was cackling in the corner, filming your breakdown for "training purposes."

Sunghoon, still wordless, wiped the steam wand clean, glanced once at the mess you’ve made, then—finally—muttered, “You shouldn’t listen to Ni-ki.”

His voice was soft, low. Dangerous. Like he only spoke when absolutely necessary.

You blinked. “Thanks for the early intel.”

He looked at you again. Longer this time.

And then, he walked away.

No other words. Just disappeared behind the back counter like you were the one who interrupted his day.

“…So anyway!” Sunoo chirped, practically dragging you away, “Let’s get you trained before you break anything else, hmm?”

You glanced back once, just in time to see Sunghoon glance over his shoulder at you.

He looked away first.

And for some reason… that annoyed you.

—

You’d worked four shifts now. Sunoo was basically your fairy godmother, Ni-ki was your unpaid therapist-slash-chaos agent, and Sunghoon?

Sunghoon was still a cardboard box with perfect skin.

He didn’t talk to you unless he had to. Didn’t smile unless he was laughing at something Sunoo said. Didn’t even look at you unless you were actively on fire, and even then, you weren’t sure he’d do more than mildly raise an eyebrow.

Which was extra annoying because somehow he was also weirdly funny. When he talked to Ni-ki or Sunoo, he’d drop the driest one-liners out of nowhere, and suddenly everyone was on the floor laughing. You tried to talk to him? Nothing. Crickets. Maybe a blink, if you were lucky.

You were cleaning the counter one evening when you caught him saying something to Ni-ki, low and casual, and Ni-ki absolutely lost it.

“Okay, that was actually good,” Sunoo wheezed. “Where was that energy earlier when she knocked over the milk?”

“She was already dying,” Sunghoon replied. “Didn’t need to bury her.”

Your head snapped up. “Excuse me?!”

He looked at you, slow and lazy, like he was surprised you heard. “It’s a compliment.”

“How is that a compliment?”

He shrugged. “You’re resilient.”

You stared. “I—what—resilient?! I tripped over my own shoelace!”

“I noticed.”

Sunoo clapped a hand over his mouth like he was about to implode.

You blinked at Sunghoon. He blinked back.

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re so—”

He lifted a brow. “You’re loud.”

You opened your mouth, but Sunoo threw an arm around your shoulders like he was trying to defuse a bomb.

“Okayyy! Let’s all take a breath,” he sang. “Some of us process friendship through gentle banter and others process it by… doing whatever it is Sunghoon does... verbal sparring?”

“I’m not sparring,” Sunghoon said, already walking away.

You glared at his back. “You never spar. You just vanish.”

“Exactly,” he called over his shoulder.

You looked at Sunoo. “I don’t get him.”

Sunoo just smiled. “You will.”

You really thought you wouldn’t—until God bestowed upon you a tragic prophecy, disguised as the café schedule for the following week.

Mon–Fri Closing Shift (5PM–11PM): YOU + SUNGHOON

You stared and blinked, rubbed your eyes, tried processing.

Sunghoon saw it at the same time you did.

“…No,” he said flatly.

You crossed your arms. “Wow. Good to see you too.”

“Sunoo,” he called toward the kitchen. “Switch me. Please.”

“Nope!” Sunoo’s voice floated back. “You’ll thank me later!”

You both stared at the schedule like it had personally offended you. Then—slowly—at each other.

This was going to be a long week.

—

Monday was… quiet.

You tried to make conversation—about the playlist, the new coffee beans, even the weather—but Sunghoon gave you absolutely nothing. Just a few nods and hums, like you were a podcast playing in the background.

You swore he spent more time restocking stirrers than actually speaking to you.

You huffed under your breath, finding him impossible to work with. The shift felt ten hours longer than it actually was, and you were convinced the silence was slowly killing your soul.

As the evening dragged on, you caught him sitting at the back counter, pulling out a laptop in between cleaning duties. You tried not to be nosy—but it was hard not to peek.

Tabs upon tabs of schoolwork were open on his screen—assignments, lecture slides, even a color-coded spreadsheet. You blinked. Huh. Sunghoon was more hardworking than you’d expected. You thought he was just the type to show up, do his job, and disappear back into the void—but here he was, typing away like the shift never even ended.

You munched on your dinner, a sad slice of pizza you grabbed from down the street during your break. The cheese had hardened and the crust was borderline cardboard, but it was food. You leaned against the counter, chewing quietly, when you realized—

Sunghoon hadn’t eaten anything. Not since the two of you started at five.

You watched him from the corner of your eye, fingers tapping against his keyboard, face unreadable in the glow of his screen.

You opened your mouth. “Hey, do you—” But you stopped yourself. Closed it again.

He’d probably just get annoyed. Or say no in that flat, disinterested way of his. And then you’d feel stupid. Still, you kept glancing over at him, stealing quick looks in between bites. At one point, you noticed his hands pressing lightly against his stomach, like he was trying to ignore it. His expression didn’t change, but the movement said enough.

He was probably hungry. You looked down at the last bite of pizza in your hand and sighed.

Tuesday, you decided, would be different.

Tuesday, you showed up with an extra sandwich from the convenience store.

You didn’t say anything. Just slid it across the counter around 7PM, because the night before, he hadn’t eaten dinner and you weren’t about to let him pass out mid-espresso pull.

He stared at the sandwich. Then at you.

You raised a brow. “You didn’t eat yesterday.”

He blinked. “…Okay.”

“You’re welcome.”

You didn’t hear a thank you. But he didn’t give it back either.

Progress.

Wednesday, there was a cup of noodles in your locker.

Just sitting there. No note. No explanation. Just… sitting.

You marched up to Sunghoon, holding it in your hands like evidence. “Did you put this in my locker?”

He looked at the cup noodle. Then at you. Then blinked, deadpan. “…No.”

“Really.”

He shrugged.

You squinted at him.

He walked away.

You were this close to launching the noodle at the back of his head. Instead, you ate it. And maybe smiled. A little.

Thursday, you both brought each other dinner. At the same time.

You froze at the counter, holding out your plastic bag just as he set his down.

“…I got you something,” you said.

He stared at your bag. Then gestured to his. “So did I.”

You glanced at each other, at the food, and then away.

“Thanks,” you muttered.

He nodded. “Mm.”

You caught the tiniest tug at the corner of his mouth as he turned around.

You smiled too. But only when he wasn’t looking.

Friday, you didn’t expect anything. You were restocking the fridge when you heard it:

“Hey.”

You turned around, startled. “What?”

Sunghoon was standing there, one hand on the fridge door, the other in his pocket. His voice was quiet, like he was testing it out on you for the first time.

“I—uh,” he started, eyes flicking to yours, then away. “You always wear that hair clip. The pink one. With the sparkles.”

You blinked. “Yeah?”

He nodded slowly. “I thought it was dumb at first.”

“Okay…?”

“But now it’s kinda…” He paused, scratched the back of his neck. “I dunno. Cute, I guess.”

You stared at him.

“Forget it,” he muttered, moving past you.

“No wait,” you said, stepping into his path, a slow grin spreading across your face. “Did you just say I’m cute?”

He didn’t look at you. “I said the clip is cute.”

“That I’m wearing.”

“That doesn’t mean—”

“Sunghoon thinks I’m cute~” you sang, spinning in a circle while he groaned and walked away.

But you caught it—right before he turned around completely.

The smile. The real one.

And for the first time all week, you were pretty sure… he might have liked you back.

The silence didn’t feel heavy anymore. It wasn’t awkward. Just quiet. Comfortable. Like a pause instead of a wall.

You were sweeping. He was mopping. The usual end-of-shift rhythm. You hummed a song under your breath—something from the café playlist that had been looping for hours. He didn’t comment on it this time. Just kept mopping in sync with you.

The air smelled like cleaning solution and vanilla syrup. The lights were dimmed to their soft closing hour glow. Outside, the city buzzed quietly under the street lamps.

Then you heard it—his voice. Low. Careful.

“I hear you’re starting college soon.”

You blinked, glancing up from your broom. He wasn’t looking at you, just focusing on a coffee stain near the back corner of the café.

“Yeah,” you said. “Orientation’s next week.”

He nodded once. “Same.”

You stopped sweeping. “Wait—seriously?”

He nodded again, this time glancing at you. “Business major?”

“Yeah. Are you—”

“Same.”

You stared. “You’re kidding.”

He shook his head, mouth twitching like he couldn’t believe it either. “Guess you’re stuck with me.”

You couldn’t help it—you grinned. “Wow. And I thought this week was the end of my suffering.”

He smirked, just a little. “Mutual, believe me.”

You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks felt warm. “This is gonna be weird.”

“Probably.”

You leaned against your broom, tilting your head. “What if we get put in the same class?”

“I’ll transfer out.”

You laughed. Actually laughed. And the look on his face softened in that tiny, quiet way he did sometimes—like a blink-and-you-miss-it moment of fondness.

“So,” you said, brushing past him on your way to put the broom away, “does this mean we’re friends now?”

He paused. Looked at you.

Then—“You’re loud.”

You turned around, walking backward. “Not a no~”

He rolled his eyes. But he didn’t say no.

—

Your first day of college started in a lecture theatre that looked like it belonged in a movie.

Wide rows of tiered seats. Floor-to-ceiling windows. A massive screen at the front welcoming new students with a generic but oddly comforting "Welcome, Future Leaders!" banner.

You slid into a seat at the back row, instinctively avoiding the eager clusters forming near the front. It was still early, and the place buzzed with chatter, nerves, and the rustle of free tote bags and pamphlets.

You opened one of the pamphlets a student ambassador had handed you earlier and scanned it while sipping on the last of your bottled tea. Campus map. Co-curricular activities. After-school programmes. There was even a flowchart on how to balance academic and personal development. It was cheesy, but a part of you—the part that studied like hell to get here—felt… proud. You belonged here. You were surrounded by people who cared just as much as you did.

You let out a small sigh, the kind that came from contentment, then finally looked up—

And blinked.

Sunghoon was walking toward you.

Brown coat sweeping behind him. A scarf looped casually around his neck. Glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, framing his face in a way that made him look straight out of a campus brochure. He carried two cups of coffee in one hand, the sleeves of his coat pushed just enough to reveal the band of his watch.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just placed one of the cups in front of you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You stared at it. Then at him.

“…You stalking me now?”

Sunghoon raised a brow. “You’re sitting in the back row. That’s the least stalkable seat.”

“Mm,” you hummed, smirking as you took the coffee anyway. “So you do want to be friends.”

He slid into the seat beside you. “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.” You raised the cup. “Acts of service. Love language. I’m flattered.”

He gave you a look. “It’s just coffee.”

“And glasses,” you added, gesturing to his face. “You’re really committing to the college-boy aesthetic, huh? Next you’re gonna pull out a book of poetry.”

He rolled his eyes, but you didn’t miss the way his lip twitched like he was holding back a smile. “You’re annoying.”

You took a sip. It was warm. Slightly sweet. Exactly how you liked it.

“And yet,” you said, nudging his arm with your elbow, “here you are.”

He didn’t answer. Just looked ahead at the empty podium, his fingers wrapped around his own cup. But his shoulder stayed against yours—light, steady, unbothered.

And you… didn’t move away.

Then, the two of you were a part of a routine.

Ever since you both found out you were classmates, Sunghoon would wait in the apartment lobby every morning with a drink in hand—tea or coffee, depending on how late you texted him the night before.

Before 12AM? Chamomile. After 12? Iced latte, extra pumps of vanilla. No questions asked.

It had been a whole month of college, and while you were still adjusting, you were glad you had Sunghoon. (More like—Sunghoon was glad he had you.)

You were outgoing. People liked you, drawn in by your energy. Sure, you could be shy at first, but once you warmed up, you were easily the heart of any group. Loud. Expressive. A little dramatic. And though Sunghoon called you irritating more times than you could count, he couldn’t deny it was part of your charm.

Part of why he noticed you in the first place.

Now here you were—walking side by side, warm drink in hand, on your way to your first class of the day. You were mid-story about something ridiculous your professor said in a group chat. Sunghoon just walked quietly beside you, listening.

And somehow, that felt like the best part of your morning.

You were walking across the quad with Sunghoon, your cup in one hand, rambling about something dumb from class when a football came flying almost knocking you out.

A second later, a tall guy sprinted into your path, trying to catch it—and collided right into you.

You gasped, stumbling back, but before you could even register what happened, Sunghoon had already pulled you aside, his hand wrapping firmly around your arm, shielding you behind him.

“Shit—sorry!” the guy said, breathless, catching the ball. His cap was turned backwards, and strands of his hair stuck to his forehead from running. He looked at you, eyes wide. “You okay?”

You nodded, eyes locking with his.

He smiled.

And for a moment, your heart stuttered.

He was cute. Really cute. Sharp jaw, dimpled grin, that kind of effortless charm that made you forget what you were saying.

“I—uh, yeah. All good,” you mumbled.

Sunghoon’s hand slowly dropped from your arm. You didn’t notice. You were still looking at Yeonjun.

He looked at you too. “I’m Yeonjun, by the way.”

You smiled, just a little. “Nice to meet you.”

Sunghoon stood still beside you, silent as ever.

But he saw it.

The look. The smile. The way you laughed, a little softer than usual. The way Yeonjun’s eyes lingered when he handed you back the drink you almost dropped.

Sunghoon didn’t say anything.

He just looked away.

—

Yeonjun showed up at the café on a Friday afternoon, all sunshine and charm, and you were too busy juggling orders to notice him at first—until he waved from the counter with that same boyish smile.

Your eyes lit up. “Oh my god—hey!”

He leaned over casually, glancing at the menu. “Didn’t know you worked here. I guess I’ll have to stop by more often.”

Meanwhile, across the room, Sunghoon sat at a corner table with a textbook open in front of him and an untouched iced americano beside it. According to him, he was there to study. According to Sunoo, he was there to “keep an eye out for Selenur.” (Sunoo’s thoughtful codename for you, since he was very sure Sunghoon had a “thing” for you)

Sunghoon told him to shut up.

Now, he watched silently as you and Yeonjun exchanged numbers, your head tilted toward the screen, smile wide. He saw Yeonjun grin, say something that made you laugh, and hand you his phone.

Sunghoon’s jaw tightened.

Not my problem, he told himself, eyes flicking back to his textbook. Not. My. Problem.

You walked over seconds later, practically skipping, still holding your phone like it was made of gold. “Can you believe it? He asked me out!”

Sunghoon didn’t look up.

You slid into the seat across from him anyway, hitting his arm repeatedly with giddy little slaps. “Sunghoon. He asked. Me. Out!”

He sighed, finally meeting your eyes. “Stop hitting me.”

“Sorry,” you giggled, not sorry at all. “I’m just excited!”

He watched you bounce in your seat, hair bouncing with you, eyes sparkling like you just won the lottery. He hated to admit how adorable you looked when you were like this. But he had a reputation. And emotions. And he was firmly committed to ignoring both.

Still. Something didn’t sit right.

Sunghoon had done a little digging after the football incident. Nothing crazy. Just… a casual scroll through Instagram. And maybe a few archived posts. Some comments. A look at mutuals. Purely for research.

Yeonjun was a third-year business major. A senior. Popular. Handsome. And according to a few posts Sunghoon definitely did not save—someone who changed girlfriends like he changed outfits.

He didn’t like it.

He didn’t like him.

Not for you.

But what did he know?

He looked down, turning a page in his textbook. Not my problem, he chanted in his head.

Definitely not.

—

Sunghoon stood in the apartment lobby, one hand tucked in his coat pocket, the other holding your usual coffee order. He checked his phone for the time, glanced toward the elevator—then froze.

You stepped out, smile already bright, your phone in one hand and the hem of your dress held lightly in the other. It was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen you wear—soft fabric that fell just above your knees, cinched slightly at the waist, the color making your skin glow. Your hair was styled, subtle makeup dusted across your cheeks, and your lips were curved in that effortless way that made it suddenly very hard to breathe.

You looked… gorgeous.

His heart did something stupid in his chest, but he quickly cleared his throat and looked away, pretending to be fascinated by the vending machine.

“How do I look?” you asked, voice playful.

He didn’t meet your eyes. “The same,” he muttered.

“Oh,” you said quietly. “Do I?”

You sighed, and he heard the disappointment in it—saw the way your shoulders dropped just slightly.

Guilt hit him instantly.

“In a good way,” he added quickly, almost too quickly.

You blinked. “Huh?”

He finally looked at you, then down at the coffee he was still holding. “You look… pretty today.”

He cleared his throat and shoved the cup toward you before you could say anything else. Then he turned and started walking first, trying to escape the inevitable teasing.

But it didn’t come.

Instead, you smiled behind your cup and jogged up to walk beside him.

“Why are you dressed like that?” he asked after a few beats of silence.

“My date with Yeonjun’s today,” you said with a grin.

His step faltered for a split second. “You like him that much?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know about like, but… it’s just—I’ve never been asked out before.”

You tilted your head as you said it, your voice soft. Honest.

Sunghoon frowned. “I’m surprised.”

“What’s so surprising?” you laughed. “You’ve met me. Everyone’s either calling me loud or annoying.”

“Isn’t that what’s so charming about you?”

The words slipped out before he could stop them.

You turned to him, eyes wide, mouth parting. “Did you just—compliment me?”

“No,” he said immediately, gaze fixed ahead like it never happened.

You didn’t press it.

You just smiled again, even softer this time, and walked beside him like nothing had changed.

But for Sunghoon… everything had.

—-

The date started off… nice. Not mind-blowing. Not movie-level magical. But nice.

Yeonjun took you to a rooftop café near campus—fairy lights strung across the ceiling, soft music humming under the chatter. He pulled your chair out like a gentleman, complimented your dress, and told you you looked beautiful in the golden hour light. You laughed, cheeks warm, nerves fluttering. You weren’t used to this. To being seen.

“You know,” he said between sips of his coffee, “I heard you got into the business faculty because of some competition?”

You nodded, a little surprised. “Yeah. The Young Entrepreneurs’ thing in my final year.”

“That’s so impressive,” he said, leaning forward with a glint in his eye. “You must have had a really solid proposal. What was it about?”

You blinked. “Um… a sustainable student-run café model. With profit-sharing incentives and local sourcing.”

Yeonjun’s smile widened. “That’s genius. Seriously. Are you using it for any of your current modules?”

You hesitated. “Well… sort of. I’m reworking the model for this semester’s proposal project.”

He nodded slowly. “Wow. You must be at the top of your class already.”

There was a pause. You tried to smile, but something twisted in your gut. He kept asking—about the proposal, your outline, your ideas. Details most people would only bring up if they were in your group, or at least interested in the topic.

You excused yourself to go to the bathroom. The second the door closed behind you, you leaned against the sink, staring at yourself in the mirror. Something about this didn’t feel right. You couldn’t place it, but the way he kept circling back to your work felt… off.

When you returned, Yeonjun was all smiles again. Charming. Sweet. As if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t just gently interrogated you for thirty minutes under the glow of fairy lights.

You tried to shake it off.

The next day, your phone stayed quiet. And the day after that. And the one after that, too.

No texts. No calls. No explanation.

Yeonjun ghosted you. Completely. Like the date never happened. Like you never happened.

You told yourself it didn’t matter. That it wasn’t like you were in love with him. That it was just one date. One boy.

But it still stung.

It wasn’t about Yeonjun, not really. It was about what it made you wonder.

Maybe you were hard to like. Maybe you were too loud. Or too awkward. Maybe you talked too much, or didn’t say the right things. Maybe you weren’t pretty enough. Or cool enough. Or quiet enough.

He smiled at you. Told you you were smart. Sweet. Pretty. And still—he left. Without a word.

And it made you wonder if all the things people always said about you were true. If deep down, you were too much of everything… and not enough of anything.

You didn’t even like Yeonjun like that, not really. But being left behind like you didn’t matter—that part hurt more than you'd ever admit out loud.

Especially when all you did was try to be yourself.

Then came the worst part.

You were working on a different assignment, digging through your laptop for a reference doc when you realized… your final business proposal was gone.

Completely gone.

You stared at the empty folder for a long, frozen second. Then searched again. And again. You turned the whole desktop inside out, but the file wasn’t there.

Panic bloomed in your chest. You didn’t delete it. You never would.

Desperate, you made your way to the engineering block where your friend Heeseung was camped out, headphones around his neck and an energy drink half-empty beside him.

You dropped beside him and wordlessly shoved your laptop in front of him.

“I think my file’s gone,” you muttered. “Like—gone gone.”

Heeseung frowned, pulling the laptop toward him. Fingers flying across the keyboard. You sat still, breath caught in your throat.

After a few minutes, he leaned back in his chair.

“It says here your laptop’s last file access was through a thumbdrive. Someone plugged one in, moved your business proposal, then took it out.”

You stared at him.

“What?” you said. Your voice barely above a whisper.

He clicked again, tilting the screen. “Time stamp says it happened the day before yesterday. Around 8:42 PM.”

Your mind flicked back.

Yeonjun. That was the night of your date.

No. No way. He wouldn’t— He couldn’t—

But the timing fit. The questions. The ghosting.

No. No fucking way.

—

You were pissed.

You wiped the counters with a little too much force, angrily scrubbing at invisible stains like they personally betrayed you. The blender hadn’t even been used today, but you cleaned it twice. You huffed. You sighed. You muttered curses under your breath while flinging dishrags and slamming cabinet doors just a bit harder than necessary.

Sunghoon stood at the sink, quietly washing mugs like you were a rabid animal he didn’t want to startle.

“I—” he started.

You grunted.

“You—”

You sighed.

He blinked. You hadn’t let him get out a full sentence all shift. At this point, you were acting like him, and he was the one trying to initiate conversation.

It was terrifying.

Thirty minutes of silence passed before you finally spoke.

“You know what I hate about men?”

Sunghoon froze mid-dry. He glanced down at his own very male hands. Great. He was framed by default.

“You people,” you said, voice rising, “and your terrible innate sense of justice.”

You slammed the rag down onto the counter. “Stealing a person’s work? Pfft. How stupid do you have to fucking be?!”

Sunghoon stayed quiet, lips pressed into a thin line. He had no idea what you were going on about—only that your date with Yeonjun clearly didn’t go well.

He opened his mouth to say something, but you waved a wet dishcloth in his face like a white flag of fury.

“And you know what else?” you went on, eyes blazing. “You people are just little gremlins who take. And take. And take.”

You let out another heavy sigh, leaning against the counter like you were carrying the weight of all modern betrayal.

“And for what?!”

Your voice hit a pitch so sharp that Sunghoon actually flinched. He snapped upright like you’d physically struck him.

“I’m guessing the date didn’t go so well?” he offered carefully.

“He stole my business proposal.”

Sunghoon paused. “…What do you mean?”

You exhaled through your nose like a dragon mid-breakdown, pacing the space behind the counter as you told him everything. The date. The weird questions. The missing file. The thumb drive. Heeseung’s diagnosis. The awful, dawning realization.

By the time you were finished, Sunghoon just stood there—speechless. Stunned.

“He’s an… asshole,” he said finally, slow and deliberate, like he needed to taste each word before letting it out.

“Yuhuh,” you mumbled, flopping into the stool behind the register and dragging your hands down your face. “What am I gonna do? The deadline’s on Friday. I spent two weeks on that thing. I’m screwed.”

Sunghoon reached for the industrial bag of coffee beans under the counter, tearing it open like this was a normal Tuesday. “Well, it’s not like you can sneak into his house and steal his laptop back.”

You froze.

“…Come again?”

Sunghoon paused, one hand still buried in the bag. “No. That was just a comment. Not an idea.”

“But a good one.” You turned toward him slowly, a little too bright. A little too smiley.

He narrowed his eyes. “No.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“You have to help me.”

“Why me?!”

“Because you gave me the idea!”

Sunghoon sighed. Loudly. Dramatically. Like he already knew he was going to give in but had to fight for the sake of his pride.

“You’re lucky I don’t believe in karma,” he muttered.

You grinned, victory written all over your face. “So that’s a yes?”

—

It was 3:07AM when Sunghoon found himself walking through a quiet residential street, questioning every decision that had brought him to this point.

The address you’d sent him earlier lit up on his screen. He shoved his hands deeper into his coat pockets, exhaling into the chilly night, when—

“Psst!”

He turned his head toward a cluster of trees—and nearly jumped out of his skin.

You were crouched behind a bush, donned in an all-black ensemble: black beanie, oversized black hoodie, black jeans, and…

“Slippers?” he blinked.

You grinned, proud. “I see you noticed the vibe. I’m dressed up as a burglar.”

Sunghoon stared. “…Isn’t that a little on the nose?”

“Isn’t it cute?” you whispered, excited. “I got it all on sale just now.”

“At what? A Target for burglars?”

You swatted his chest with the back of your hand, ignoring the way he flinched with a low sigh.

“There,” you said, pointing toward the modest two-story house across the street. “That’s his house.”

“Okay, and what’s your—” You swat him again.

“Our plan?” he corrected, exasperated.

You beamed. “Glad you asked. See that room on the second floor? With the string lights and the cracked window?”

He squinted. “Yeah?”

“My intel says that’s his room.”

“…Your intel. You mean, Sunoo?”

“Yes.” You wiggled your brows mysteriously before turning serious. “So. We put up the ladder. I climb. I sneak in. I get the laptop. We disappear.”

“You’re actually insane for this,” he muttered under his breath.

You ignored him, eyes locked on the prize. “The windows are open, and I made sure he’s distracted tonight.”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. “How exactly?”

“I texted him from a fake number pretending to be a girl he ghosted last semester. He’s currently having a breakdown about his ‘reputation.’ I give us twenty minutes.”

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

And then he sighed. Deep. Long. Existential.

Is this worth it? He thought to himself.

He glanced down at you again—eyes full of unhinged determination, your hoodie sleeves bunched at your wrists, that tiny pout on your lips as you tried to judge the ladder distance.

God. You looked ridiculous. And cute.

So yeah. It was worth it.

“…Let’s do this,” he said.

You grinned like the gremlin you were. “I knew you liked me.”

He rolled his eyes, cheeks just a little too warm. “Regretting this already.”

But he followed you anyway.

—

You set the ladder against the side of the house like you’d done this before. Sunghoon, meanwhile, stood beside it with the stiff posture of someone definitely not okay with committing a crime at 3:15AM.

You looked back at him. “Hold it steady, okay?”

“Just… for the record,” he muttered, “this is breaking and entering.”

“I prefer the term justice retrieval.”

He sighed so hard you thought his soul left his body. “Just don’t fall and die. Please.”

You winked. “Aw, you care.”

“No, I just don’t want to explain to the police why you’re dressed like a criminal and wearing slippers.”

You began to climb.

The first few steps were fine—until one of your slippers nearly slipped right off.

“Oh, fuck—” you hissed, gripping the ladder.

“Do you need to wear those?” Sunghoon whisper-yelled from below, clutching the base of the ladder like his life depended on it.

“They’re comfy!”

“They’re a hazard.”

You ignored him, determined, as you reached the second-floor window. The breeze fluttered through the half-open pane, moonlight pooling gently across Yeonjun’s empty room. His laptop sat on the desk, closed. Glowing faintly.

Target acquired.

You carefully pushed the window open wider and swung one leg through.

Sunghoon watched from below, jaw tight, muttering to himself like a man saying his last prayers. “This is how I go down. Helping a girl in bunny slippers commit theft.”

You managed to slide inside without knocking anything over. Heart pounding. Hands slightly shaking.

You tiptoed across the carpet, grabbed the laptop, and slipped it into your drawstring bag like the world's most underqualified spy.

You were halfway back out the window when—

“HEY! WHO’S THERE?!”

A voice rang out from somewhere downstairs.

Your eyes widened. You turned to look down at Sunghoon, who was still grabbing the bottom of the ladder.

“Go, go, go—!” you whispered harshly.

You clambered down the ladder as fast as you could, nearly taking Sunghoon out as you reached the bottom. He caught your wrist before you could stumble, pulling you into a sprint without a word.

Your feet pounded against the pavement—slippers slapping, bag bouncing, hearts racing. Behind you, a door slammed open.

“HEY!” Yeonjun’s voice echoed into the street.

Sunghoon didn’t slow down. “Left!” he hissed.

You turned sharply, ducking into a narrow alley between two quiet apartment buildings. The shadows swallowed you both instantly.

“Over here—quick,” he muttered, yanking you behind a large trash bin and squeezing into the tight space beside you. It was small. Barely enough for one person, let alone two.

You pressed your back to the wall, chest heaving, adrenaline thrumming in your ears.

Sunghoon’s face was too close. Way too close.

You turned to whisper something, only to notice the way his profile was still partially visible, his cheek nearly poking out past the safety of the shadow. Panic surged through you as Yeonjun’s footsteps grew louder.

Without thinking, you reached out and grabbed Sunghoon’s face—gentle but urgent—and pulled him toward you, forcing him deeper into the corner.

He blinked, startled, his hands landing on either side of you to steady himself.

And suddenly—everything stopped.

His breath hit yours. Warm. Shaky. His nose nearly brushing yours. Your fingertips still on his cheek. You could feel the heat rising between your bodies, your heart hammering against your ribcage.

You were so focused on listening for footsteps that you didn’t notice the way he was looking at you.

His eyes were locked on yours, soft and unblinking. Like you were something precious. Something fragile. Something he wasn’t supposed to want but couldn’t help reaching for.

But then—he cleared his throat.

You blinked, still slightly dazed, and smiled—completely unaware of how close you were until you finally pulled away.

He stepped back the moment you did.

You laughed, breathless, heart still sprinting inside your chest. “I can’t believe we just did that.”

“I can’t believe you dragged me into it,” he said, grinning despite himself.

Your laughter echoed down the alley, light and free and bubbling with triumph.

And even as the moment passed, and the footsteps faded, and you both stumbled back out into the quiet night—

Sunghoon couldn’t stop thinking about how your hands had felt on his skin.

—

Sunghoon unlocked the door and stepped into the apartment as if nothing about the situation was even remotely unusual. You followed close behind, hoodie pulled low over your head, black beanie snug, sleeves covering your hands, and—most incriminating of all—a pair of fuzzy bunny slippers completing the look. If anyone had seen you on the way over, they might’ve called the cops.

Inside, the living room was dimly lit, the glow of the TV casting flickering light across Jake and his girlfriend, who were curled up under a blanket, halfway through a rom-com rerun and clearly deep into their peaceful little couple night. That peace shattered the moment Jake looked up and saw you.

He froze with a chip halfway to his mouth. His girlfriend stiffened beside him. Their gazes locked on your all-black ensemble, eyes trailing from your hoodie to your slippers, as if unsure whether to scream, laugh, or call for help.

“Sunghoon,” Jake said slowly, narrowing his eyes. “Why is there a burglar in our house?”

You smiled brightly, completely unfazed. “Hi!”

Jake blinked, turning to Sunghoon for confirmation. Sunghoon simply sighed, kicked his shoes off, and muttered under his breath, “Not how I wanted you to meet her.”

“You brought her to the house,” Jake said, still staring. “At 3 a.m. Dressed like that.”

You shrugged, strolling toward the desk and pulling Yeonjun’s laptop from your drawstring bag. “We’re breaking into a computer, not the house. Totally different vibe.”

Jake’s girlfriend leaned forward. “Are those bunny slippers?”

You nodded proudly. “They’re for stealth.”

“Right,” she said, blinking. “Very… quiet.”

Sunghoon dropped his keys on the table with a sigh, already preparing himself for the chaos about to unfold.

“She’s trying to hack into a guy’s laptop,” he said, walking to the kitchen like he needed caffeine and therapy at once. “Don’t ask.”

“Why are you helping her?!” Jake asked, scandalized.

Sunghoon opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. “I’m not.”

“You literally held the ladder for me twenty minutes ago,” you called over your shoulder.

Jake choked. “Ladder? What ladder?!”

You turned around, laptop booted up, the login screen glowing faintly. “The one I used to climb through a second-story window.”

Jake gaped. His girlfriend quietly set the chip bag down, her expression somewhere between horrified and fascinated.

“I love her,” she whispered to Jake.

“I fear her,” Jake whispered back.

Sunghoon leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed. He looked at you—messy hair peeking out from under your beanie, eyes focused, face lit by the laptop screen. Completely unbothered by the scene you’d walked into.

And for some reason, despite all the madness, he still thought you looked kind of cute.

“God help us all,” Sunghoon muttered.

By the time you cracked into the laptop, Jake and his girlfriend had already retreated into their bedroom. Sunghoon had closed the door behind them with a roll of his eyes and a muttered, “That’s just code for they’re about to smash, so we should probably play some music or something.”

You’d snorted at the time, but now the silence in the room felt heavy.

The soft hum of the laptop was the only sound between you, sitting shoulder to shoulder on the floor next to Sunghoon’s desk. He sat beside you, legs stretched out, arms loosely folded, eyes flicking over the screen with quiet interest—until he glanced at your expression and realized you’d stopped scrolling.

“What is it?” he asked.

You didn’t answer.

Your eyes were fixed on the folder open in front of you. Document after document lined the screen, all titled neatly with class names and—oddly—names. Different ones.

Mina. Elly. Jisoo. Grace.

And then… your name.

You clicked on it. Your proposal opened, just slightly reworded, your diagrams rearranged—but it was yours. Every piece of it.

You stared at the screen and crossed your arms tightly, a cold knot settling in your chest. The adrenaline was gone now. In its place was something much heavier. You felt small. Humiliated.

“I was just another one,” you muttered.

Sunghoon looked over, brows drawing together.

“Just another girl he got close to for an assignment,” you said, voice flat. “Was I that boring? That forgettable? Was I really so—unlikable—that the only time a guy showed me attention, it was because he needed my fucking work?”

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head as the words tumbled out, unfiltered. “God. What is wrong with me? What did I think was gonna happen? That someone like him actually liked someone like me?”

You let your arms drop and folded your hands over your face, pressing your palms into your eyes.

“I’m so stupid,” you whispered.

Sunghoon didn’t say anything at first. He just sat beside you, close but not touching, eyes fixed on the floor like he was trying to figure out the right thing to say and coming up completely empty.

You wiped at your face with the back of your sleeve, but it was no use—your mascara had already betrayed you, running in streaks down your cheeks. You were crying harder than you realized, tears silent but relentless.

You turned to him, half-laughing, half-sobbing. “So you’re just gonna stay quiet?”

He looked up, startled. His gaze met yours, and for a moment he forgot how to breathe. You looked—God, you looked like a mess. Eyes red, lashes damp, your hoodie sleeves pushed up unevenly, and cheeks stained with tears.

And somehow, he thought you’d never looked prettier.

You weren’t pretending. Weren’t smiling for the sake of others or hiding behind jokes. You were just… you. Raw and hurting and real.

He cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck. “What do you want me to say? I’m not good at comforting people.”

“I don’t know,” you sniffled. “Say he’s an asshole or something.”

Sunghoon shrugged a little. “Well, he is.”

You looked at him, still waiting, unsure if that was all he had in him. He looked like he was about to say more, and then—he did.

“He is an asshole,” Sunghoon repeated, louder this time. “I don’t know why you even agreed to go out with him.”

You opened your mouth, confused. “I—”

“You’re loud,” he said suddenly. “You’re pretentious. You’re annoying—”

Your eyes widened, and you flinched.

“What—”

“You interrupt people all the time,” he continued, voice rising with something that wasn’t quite anger—something messier. “You talk too much. You never stop moving. You’re chaotic and stubborn and you don’t think things through—”

Tears were streaming down your face again, this time faster. You looked away, chest tightening.

But then his voice softened.

“...And you’re also caring. Kind. God, you’re the only person I know who goes to the store at four in the morning to feed stray cats in an alley every two days.”

You blinked. Slowly turned back to him.

Sunghoon exhaled, running a hand through his hair.

“You’re funny. You’re thoughtful. You remember the little things people say even when they forget they said them. Anyone would be lucky to be your friend… let alone always be with you.”

He looked at you then, eyes steady and full of something warm. Something aching.

“I’m lucky,” he said, quieter now. “I’m the luckiest bastard alive, as long as I get to stand next to you and call you my friend.”

You stared at him, heart pounding, lips parted, breath caught somewhere in your chest.

Because for the first time… it felt like he wasn’t just calling you a friend.

—

Maybe it was the crying. Maybe it was the emotional whiplash of the night—the heist, the heartbreak, the sudden unraveling of every thought you’d kept tucked neatly away. Maybe it was the way Sunghoon had looked at you when he said he was lucky.

But either way, you couldn’t keep your eyes open.

One moment you were sitting beside him, the warmth of his words still lingering in your chest like a quiet heartbeat. The next, the world had blurred softly at the edges, and your body gave out beneath the weight of it all.

So now, you were on his back.

He’d barely hesitated before lifting you, tucking your arms around his shoulders and hooking his arms under your knees. You didn’t even protest—you were too tired to argue, too comforted by the way he held you like he’d done it before.

Your cheek rested against his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut. You felt the steady rise and fall of his chest as he walked, the rhythmic sway of his steps, the subtle hum of a tune you didn’t recognize—but it was sweet, and low, and made your heartbeat slow down.

Sunghoon didn’t say anything. He just walked.

Past the quiet streets. Past flickering streetlamps. Past your favorite corner store and the alley you fed cats in and the bus stop where he first bought you coffee.

He didn’t complain about your weight. Didn’t tease. Didn’t say a word about the mascara smudged against the fabric of his coat.

You didn’t know if he knew you were still half-awake, but when he gently adjusted your leg, you heard him murmur so softly you almost missed it:

“You’re not stupid.”

Your heart ached.

And then you let sleep take you.

Because if there was ever a place to rest— It was here. On his back.

—

You woke up warm.

Too warm, actually. Wrapped in layers you didn’t remember putting on. The hoodie you had on last night clung loosely to your body, sleeves pushed halfway up your arms, and your slippers were neatly placed by the side of your bed—something you definitely hadn’t done.

You sat up slowly, blinking at the sunlight streaming through your curtains. Your room was quiet. Peaceful. And completely unfamiliar in the sense that… you had no idea how you got there.

You rubbed your eyes, your body aching in the most confusing way—like you’d run a marathon, cried through an entire movie, and fought off an emotional breakdown all at once. Oh. Right.

The heist. The yelling. The crying.

Sunghoon.

You swung your legs off the bed, still a little dazed, and padded out of your room.

That’s when you smelled it—eggs. Butter. Something slightly burnt, but in a way that made your chest tighten.

You turned the corner and froze.

Sunghoon was in your kitchen.

His hair was messier than usual, falling into his eyes as he stood in front of the stove, flipping something that might have once been a pancake. He was wearing the same hoodie from the night before, sleeves pushed up, a spatula in one hand, your mismatched cat-print apron tied haphazardly around his waist.

You blinked, brain short-circuiting. “What the hell…?”

He glanced over his shoulder. “You’re awake.”

“I…” You looked down at yourself. “How did I get home?”

“You passed out,” he said simply, turning back to the stove. “I carried you.”

You stared at him. “You carried me?”

“Like a princess,” he deadpanned. “Except you drooled on my shoulder.”

You gasped. “I did not.”

“You did.”

You groaned and dropped your head into your hands. “This is so embarrassing.”

He flipped another pancake—slightly more edible this time—and shrugged. “You needed the sleep.”

You looked up at him again, softer this time. “Why are you making breakfast?”

He didn’t look at you. “Felt like you could use something warm.”

You felt your throat tighten. You wanted to say something, but the words sat too heavy on your tongue. So instead, you just stood there in the doorway, watching him quietly.

And for the first time in what felt like weeks—you felt safe.

Breakfast passed in silence.

Not awkward, not heavy—just... silent. The kind of silence that settled like sunlight through the window, warm and gentle and unspoken.

You sat across from him at your little dining table, your knees brushing every so often beneath the wood, your plate mostly untouched. He ate like nothing was different, like he hadn’t carried you home last night, like he didn’t make pancakes in your kitchen while wearing your cat-print apron.

And yet, something had shifted.

You kept stealing glances at him in between tiny sips of orange juice. The way his lashes dipped as he focused on his food. The subtle curve of his mouth as he chewed. The way his hair curled just slightly at the ends when he didn’t style it.

Your heart fluttered.

Your stomach twisted—but not in the way it did when you were nervous or sad. This was... different. Lighter. Warmer.

What is this? you thought. This weird, floaty feeling in your chest. This little ache every time you looked at him.

Sunghoon glanced up, catching your gaze.

You quickly looked down at your plate.

He didn’t say anything for a moment—just reached for his cup, took a sip, then set it down with a quiet clink.

“Go take a shower and get dressed,” he said casually.

You blinked. “Huh?”

He leaned back in his chair. “You heard me.”

“But it’s Saturday. I don’t have any—”

“I’m taking you out.”

You stared at him. “Out? Like… out out?”

“Let’s go,” he said again, nonchalantly, like it was no big deal. Like he hadn’t just casually turned your whole world upside down with three words.

You opened your mouth, then closed it. You felt the heat rush to your cheeks.

“Oh,” you said. Quiet. Surprised.

Sunghoon stood and collected your plate like it was the most normal thing in the world. “I’m not giving you the plan. Just go shower.”

And then he walked off toward the sink, sleeves rolled, calm as ever.

You sat there for another ten seconds, frozen, heart racing.

What is this feeling?

And why did you suddenly never want it to stop?

You stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the hem of your yellow chiffon babydoll dress for the third time. It swayed lightly around your thighs, soft and airy, the color bright against your skin. You’d tied your hair into two loose pigtails, hoping it came off cute and not childish—just… soft. Sweet. Something that might look good next to him.

Sunghoon, with his wardrobe of tailored coats and muted sweaters. All clean lines and high-end simplicity. He never had to try, and he always looked perfect.

You hoped—just a little—that standing beside him, you wouldn’t look too out of place.

You took one last look in the mirror, then stepped out of your room.

He was sitting on your couch, one leg crossed over the other, scrolling casually through his phone like he hadn’t just changed your entire Saturday morning. He looked up when he heard your footsteps.

His eyes flicked up to meet yours.

Then back down to his phone.

No double-take. No compliment. Not even a blink.

“Let’s go,” he said, standing up with a stretch.

You stared at him, jaw tight. “Stupid idiot,” you muttered under your breath.

“What was that?” he asked, turning toward you, brows raised.

You plastered on a fake smile so quickly it nearly hurt. “Nothing.”

He watched you for a beat, unreadable as always, then looked away.

“You look pretty,” he said softly—so quiet it was almost drowned out by the rustle of his coat sleeve as he reached for his keys.

You blinked.

But before you could respond, he was already walking toward the door, acting like he hadn’t said anything at all.

Typical Sunghoon.

Your heart fluttered anyway.

—

“Are we there yet?” you sighed for what had to be the fifteenth time.

Sunghoon didn’t look at you—just kept walking ahead with that maddeningly steady pace. “Almost,” he said.

“You said that two hours ago.”

“Mm.”

Just a hum. No explanation. No sympathy.

You followed anyway, flats sinking further into the mud with every step. You’d taken two buses, a ten-minute train ride, and now you were walking deep into a part of the park you didn’t recognize at all. Far from your neighborhood. Far from everything.

You glanced down at your shoes, now spotted with dirt and regret. This dress, the hair, the whole effort—you were starting to think it had all been a mistake.

Then Sunghoon’s pace suddenly picked up. His eyes lit up, focused on something just beyond the next turn.

“There,” he said softly.

And before you could ask what he meant, he reached for your hand—sudden, unthinking—and pulled you with him.

Your breath caught in your throat.

His hand was warm, firm around yours, fingers interlaced like it had always been that way.

You didn’t say a word. Just followed.

He led you past a line of trees, through tall grass, and down a narrow slope. Then finally—you saw it.

A small, glimmering pond hidden in a clearing. The water was still, mirror-like, catching the soft gold of the late afternoon sun. Willow trees bent low over the banks, their branches swaying gently in the breeze. Wildflowers bloomed in quiet clusters along the edge—lilac, yellow, soft blue—and dragonflies skimmed the water’s surface, their wings catching the light like tiny stained-glass windows. It was quiet. Peaceful. Untouched.

Like something out of a fairytale.

You stared, mouth slightly parted. “How’d you even—how’d you find this place?”

Sunghoon didn’t answer right away. He just stood beside you, still holding your hand loosely.

“When I was younger,” he said after a moment, voice softer than usual, “my family came here for a vacation. My sister and I snuck out one morning and found this by accident.”

You glanced over at him. He wasn’t looking at you—just at the water, like it still held something sacred.

“I used to take her here when she cried,” he continued, “whenever she got scolded by our mum. I don’t know... it always calmed her down.”

You smiled, quietly listening.

“Why’d you bring me here?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He laughed under his breath, the sound light, almost shy.

“It’s silly,” he said, eyes still on the pond. “But last night, when you were crying…”

You looked at him then—really looked at him.

His expression was unreadable, caught between memory and now. He glanced at you finally, voice quieter.

“You reminded me of my childhood. Of her. You looked so… innocent.” He gave a faint, crooked smile. “And maybe I thought this place would cheer you up.”

Your chest ached in the most unexpected way.

Not from sadness. Not even from joy.

Just from the quiet knowing that someone had thought of you that deeply.

You looked down again at your joined hands.

Still holding. Still warm.

The two of you made your way closer to the water, weaving past the low-hanging branches until you found a flat patch of grass near the edge. You sat down carefully, smoothing the fabric of your dress beneath you, your feet dangling just above the still surface of the pond.

Sunghoon dropped beside you, resting his arms lazily on his knees, legs slightly apart, sneakers almost brushing the water. The breeze was cooler here, brushing your cheeks with the scent of wildflowers and grass. The only sounds were the rustle of leaves, the distant hum of cicadas, and the quiet ripples of the pond.

He didn’t speak.

Of course he didn’t.

You’d grown used to his silences. They weren’t cold, or distant—not really. They were just… Sunghoon. Thoughtful. Still. The kind of quiet that made you want to fill the space, not because it was empty, but because he made you feel safe enough to.

So you talked.

About everything. About nothing.

You told him about the weird dreams you’d been having lately, about the girl in your class who kept trying to copy your notes, about how you once tried to bake cookies for your primary school crush and forgot the sugar. You pointed out shapes in the clouds. Gave names to the dragonflies. Talked about the playlist you made for a fictional road trip you hadn’t taken yet.

And Sunghoon?

He just listened.

Not distracted. Not fake-listening like some people did, nodding along while their mind was elsewhere.

He listened with his whole body. Slight tilts of his head. The way he’d glance at you when he thought you weren’t looking. The quiet little hums when something made him laugh. The barely-there smile when you said something completely ridiculous.

You kicked your feet gently above the water.

“Sorry,” you said at some point, half-laughing. “I talk too much when you’re quiet.”

He shook his head slowly, still looking out over the pond. “I like it.”

You blinked. “You do?”

“You talk like you’re alive,” he said softly.

You turned to look at him.

His expression was unreadable, gaze fixed somewhere across the water. But his voice—his voice sounded like truth.

Your heart beat a little faster. You looked down at your hands in your lap, trying to will the blush away.

The two of you had been sitting there for a while now, feet dangling over the edge of the pond, sunlight dancing on the surface of the water. You’d done most of the talking—naturally—and Sunghoon had just sat beside you, quietly listening like always, eyes half-lidded from the warmth, arms resting lazily over his knees.

You were halfway through a very dramatic retelling of the vending machine incident from earlier in the week when something soft landed on your head.

You paused, blinking. “Did something just…?”

Before you could reach up to check, Sunghoon leaned in.

His hand came up slowly, fingertips brushing through your hair with careful precision. You stilled completely. He was close—closer than usual—and the moment stretched, your voice caught somewhere in your throat.

His face hovered just inches from yours, eyes focused as he plucked a single pink petal from your hair. The breeze tugged at your dress, your heart did a weird little somersault, and your brain short-circuited trying to process the proximity.

You barely dared to breathe. His breath brushed your cheek, warm and soft. He didn’t move away.

And somehow, your mind made the leap.

Oh my god. He’s going to kiss me.

Your heart leapt. You shut your eyes without thinking, every nerve in your body suddenly very, very aware of the shape of his mouth and the way your knees were touching.

But instead of a kiss, you got—

A throat clear.

You opened your eyes to find Sunghoon leaning back like nothing happened, examining the flower petal with the clinical interest of someone assessing a grocery receipt. Like he hadn’t just completely hijacked your central nervous system.

You blinked at him, heat flooding your face.

He glanced up, clearly fighting back a smirk. “Did you just—”

“No.” Your answer was immediate. Loud. Defensive.

“I didn’t even finish my senten—”

“Shut up.” You whirled on him, hands flying dramatically as the full force of your embarrassment took over. “You scooted so close to me, and you leaned in and, and I—I didn’t know what to expect, okay?!”

Sunghoon’s eyes sparkled, lips twitching. “I was taking a petal out of your hair.”

“You took your sweet time, that’s what you did,” you huffed, arms flailing now. “God, you and your–cold–cold boy exterior. I can’t read your face! You could be about to kiss me or about to tell me my card got declined, and I wouldn’t know the difference.”

He let out a soft laugh, the kind that made your chest ache a little. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Excuse me for assuming I was about to have a romantic moment by a magical pond with a boy who—”

He reached forward suddenly, both hands cupping your cheeks, and you froze mid-rant.

The world slowed.

His palms were warm. Gentle. Holding your face like you were made of something delicate. You couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe.

Then his voice came, low and steady.

“Do you want me to?”

Your words died in your throat. Your heart thundered somewhere behind your ribs.

You stared at him, wide-eyed, unsure what to say.

He didn’t press. Just looked at you with that infuriating, calm expression—the kind that made it impossible to tell if he was teasing you or being completely serious.

And somehow, that only made you fall harder.

You opened your mouth, then closed it again.

“I—” you tried.

Sunghoon waited.

You panicked. “You took way too long with the petal.”

He laughed. This time, fully. And God, if your heart hadn’t already betrayed you, that laugh would've done it.

“Okay,” he said eventually, letting go of your cheeks like he hadn’t just gently cradled your entire soul.

You immediately buried your face in your hands.

You hated him. You adored him. You had no idea what this was.

But you kind of never wanted it to end.

—

The walk back was quiet.

Not the comfortable kind that usually settled between you and Sunghoon. This one was thick. Tense. A silence so loud it felt like it echoed.

You hadn’t spoken a word since leaving the pond.

He’d glanced at you a few times as you walked side by side, but you kept your gaze stubbornly forward, arms crossed, cheeks still warm from earlier. You couldn’t stop replaying the moment in your head—his hands on your face, that question, your silence, the way your heart had practically stopped beating altogether.

And now, here you were. Standing outside your apartment. Streetlights glowing gold above you. Crickets chirping. The air cool and still.

He hadn’t said anything either.

Not until now.

Sunghoon cleared his throat softly. “You’ve been quiet since the park.”

You let out a small, unbothered-sounding tch, keeping your eyes fixed on the sidewalk.

What a stupid question. He knew why.

You were embarrassed. Flustered. Emotionally compromised and desperately trying to hold it together. And he just stood there, calm and collected, as if he hadn’t casually almost kissed you and then walked away like it was nothing.

You turned toward him, fire rising again. “You—!”

You raised your hands, ready to start waving them mid-rant like you always did. But before a single word left your mouth, Sunghoon stepped forward and grabbed both your wrists gently, stopping them midair.

You blinked.

“What are you—?”

And then he leaned in.

Soft. Quick. Certain.

He pressed a kiss to your lips—just a brief, featherlight touch that made your breath catch and your thoughts scatter in all directions.

It was simple. Barely a second long. But it knocked the wind out of you.

“There,” he said, voice low and calm, as he pulled back.

You stared at him, completely frozen. Mouth slightly parted. Eyes wide.

“Y-You—” you stammered, hands still in his.

Sunghoon didn’t flinch. “You were being loud in your head. I could hear it.”

“I—That’s not—You don’t just—!”

He raised an eyebrow, completely unfazed. “Feel better now?”

Your heart was a mess. Your brain was fuzz. But still… you nodded.

He let go of your hands slowly, his touch lingering just a second longer than necessary.

“Goodnight,” he said, and turned to walk away.

You stood there, stunned, watching him go. And somewhere between your heart trying to reboot and your hand brushing against your lips…

—-

The library was quiet, save for the occasional turning of pages and the distant hum of the printer.

You were trying to focus. Really, you were. But it was hard.

Not because of your thesis—which was enough of a monster on its own—but because of him. Sitting right next to you.

Sunghoon.

The boy who kissed you once. Who sent you home after and said nothing. The boy who still picked you up for class, still shared his earbuds, still split convenience store snacks with you like nothing had changed. And maybe it hadn’t. Not really.

You weren’t kissing everyday. You weren’t dating. There were no labels. Just… this strange, sweet in-between. And it was driving you insane.

You’d been hanging out every day, and yet neither of you had brought up the kiss. Not the one by the pond. Not the one on your doorstep.

You were somewhere between friends and more, and he seemed perfectly content to sit in that quiet space—while you were losing your mind wondering what it meant.

You were currently scanning the shelves, trying—and failing—to find a book for your thesis. You swore it was here. The catalogue said it was. But after combing through the aisle three times, you were ready to throw yourself into the return bin.

“Ugh,” you muttered, turning to scan the shelf one more time.

And then, like some book-finding angel, Sunghoon stepped beside you. He reached forward casually, plucked the exact book from the shelf above your head, and handed it to you without a word.

Your jaw dropped. “Are you kidding me?”

You snatched it from his hand, dramatic as ever, and turned to him with wild eyes.

“I’ve been here for twenty minutes! And you—!”

Your hands flew up instinctively, ready to gesticulate in full rant mode when—

He caught them.

Both of them.

Warm fingers wrapping around your wrists, stopping you mid-rant with that infuriatingly calm expression on his face.

And then he leaned in.

And kissed you.

Just like that.

Soft. Steady. No hesitation.

Your breath caught completely. Your brain shut off. The library, the thesis, the confusion—all of it disappeared under the pressure of his lips against yours.

It was over in seconds.

He pulled back like nothing happened, still holding your hands.

“Loud,” he said, voice low and amused.

And then—he let go and walked away.

You stood frozen in the aisle, mouth still parted in disbelief, the book clutched to your chest like it had personally witnessed a crime.

Your heart was pounding. Your face was burning. You were sure your soul had just left your body.

And once again… He didn’t look back.

Typical Sunghoon.

You were unwell.

Absolutely, fully, catastrophically unwell.

Because Sunghoon kissed you again.

In a library.

After handing you a book like it was the most normal thing in the world.

And when you raised your hands—to explain, to demand answers, to yell in three different emotional languages—he just… kissed you. Again. Calmly. Casually. And walked away like it hadn’t just restructured your entire brain.

You tried not to think about it. You really did.

But the moment you sat back down at the table, book open in front of you, and he slid a highlighter across the desk toward you like he hadn’t just emotionally detonated you—

You exploded.

“Okay,” you said, too loudly for a library. “What are we?”

He looked up from his notes, blinking once.

You leaned forward. “Because you kissed me. Twice. And you keep holding my face like I’m a traumatized woodland creature and then walking away before I can process anything.”

He tilted his head, resting his chin on his palm. “So you have been thinking about it.”

You sputtered. “Of course I’ve been thinking about it!”

Sunghoon nodded slowly, flipping to the next page of his notes.

You blinked at him. “Are you ignoring me?”

“I’m studying.”

“I’m spiraling.”

“Noted.”

Your hands flailed.

And just as you raised them again, fully prepared to unleash wave two of your emotional breakdown—

He stood up from his seat, leaned across the table, and kissed you. Right there. Again.

Quick. Soft. On the corner of your mouth this time.

You froze.

“I—” you squeaked.

“You were getting loud again,” he said, sitting back down like he hadn’t just completely ended your speech mid-sentence.

You gawked at him, face on fire. “You can’t just kiss me every time I get dramatic.”

“That’s what you think.”

You opened your mouth. He raised an eyebrow.

You closed it again.

He handed you your highlighter. “Let me know when you’re done with denial.”

You stared at him, heart pounding so hard you could hear it echoing in your skull. He was calm. Unbothered. Absolutely smug.

You hated him.

You wanted to kiss him again.

You highlighted the same sentence seven times just to avoid looking at his stupid perfect face.

—

You were walking home from the library with Sunghoon again. Just like always. Quiet sidewalk, golden streetlights, late-night hum of the city in the background.

Except nothing about it felt normal anymore.

Not after the kisses.

Not after the looks he kept giving you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. Not after your brain had chewed itself into pieces trying to decode what you were to him.

And tonight—you were done pretending you were fine with it.

“I just think,” you said for what felt like the fifth time, voice rising as your steps quickened, “that if you’re gonna keep kissing me, then maybe—and this is wild—I deserve to know what it means!”

Sunghoon didn’t answer. He kept walking beside you, hands in his pockets, face unreadable. Infuriatingly calm.

“And if it doesn’t mean anything, that’s fine,” you added, already lying to yourself. “But then stop doing it! You can’t just weaponize your mouth to shut me up like some human mute button—”

He stopped walking.

You blinked, still mid-rant, too fired up to notice that he’d turned until his fingers wrapped around your wrist and tugged you back—swiftly, gently, deliberately—until your back hit the cold brick wall of the nearest building.

The shock of it knocked the words straight out of your mouth.

“Wha—”

And then he kissed you.

Hard.

No hesitation. No teasing.

His lips found yours in one clean, fluid motion, like he’d been waiting, burning, counting every second leading up to this moment. His hand pressed firmly against the wall beside your head, his body angled toward yours—not pushing, just close. Too close. Close enough that you felt the heat radiating off of him, the weight of everything he hadn’t said.

You didn’t even get the chance to breathe before his other hand slipped to your jaw, tilting your face up slightly—and then his mouth opened against yours, and his tongue slid in. Slow. Confident. Sure.

You gasped softly into him, your fingers gripping the front of his sweater like it was the only thing keeping you from collapsing. And God—he tasted like mint and quiet danger, like late nights and secrets he hadn’t told you yet.

He kissed you like he was trying to memorize your mouth.

Like he wanted you breathless and boneless and ruined in the best way.

And you let him.

You kissed him back like it had been building inside you too, like you’d been waiting for him to break first—waiting for this exact kind of dizzying, spine-melting surrender.

By the time he pulled back, you weren’t sure where you were anymore.

Your chest heaved. Your lips tingled. Your back was still pressed to the wall, legs weak, thoughts tangled.

Sunghoon didn’t move far—just enough to speak, his thumb still brushing softly along your cheek.

“You’re loud,” he murmured, his voice rougher than usual. “But not when you’re kissing me back.”

You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t even glare. Your eyes were still wide and unfocused. Your body felt like it had been struck by lightning wrapped in velvet.

And him?

He just took your hand again like nothing happened.

“Let’s go,” he said, like he hadn’t just absolutely wrecked you against a wall.

You followed.

Stunned. Silent.

And for the first time in your life— You understood exactly why he did that.

Because nothing had ever shut you up like that before.

—

The next morning, Sunghoon was already waiting outside your apartment by the time you stepped out, bleary-eyed and still emotionally unstable from the night before. He stood there with his usual sleepy calmness, one hand in his pocket, the other holding your usual coffee order.

Of course he knew you hadn’t slept.

He hadn’t either.

Because while you were lying awake replaying that kiss over and over again, so was he. He’d tried to read, tried to distract himself—but every time he closed his eyes, all he could feel was you against the wall. Your fingers in his sweater. The way your lips opened under his, soft and wanting. The sound you made when he bit down gently on your lip before pulling away.

He was in trouble.

You walked toward him slowly, eyes puffy, your hoodie a little crooked from sleep. You didn’t say anything—just snatched the coffee from his hand and took three aggressive gulps like it personally wronged you.

“Hmph,” you huffed, before storming three steps ahead of him like an angry little duck.

Sunghoon blinked.

Then he laughed.

God, he was so gone for you.

“Why are you mad?” he asked, catching up easily.

You didn’t look at him. “Because—because you won’t tell me what we are. You keep kissing me every time I get dramatic, and you don’t say anything after, and you won’t tell me if you even like me, and—”

“Don’t you like it when I kiss you, though?” he asked casually, like he wasn’t setting your entire nervous system on fire.

You stumbled. “I—! I—”

He looked far too smug. You hated how good he was at this.

“You can’t just say smug shit like that and make me not want to choke you—”

You didn’t finish. Because just like last time, he moved without warning.

In one sharp, fluid motion, he backed you into the nearest tree, the rough bark grazing your spine as your back hit it with a quiet thud. His hand slid around to the small of your back, pressing you against him, while the other gripped your waist and dragged slowly down to your hip, fingers curving around it possessively.

His mouth was on yours before you could speak. No hesitation this time.

His lips crashed into yours—hot, hungry, open. He tilted his head, deepening it fast, his hand tightening at your waist as he pulled you harder against him. Your gasp disappeared into his mouth.

His tongue slipped past your lips, slow and deliberate. He kissed like he knew exactly what he was doing—like he knew how to pull sound from your throat without a word. His body pinned yours to the tree, firm and steady, his hips brushing into yours just enough to make you lose your balance and grab his sweater for support.

He groaned lowly when you kissed him back, your fingers bunching at his chest, his thumb digging into your side as his mouth moved harder, needier, lips parting, tongue sliding deeper.

And then—he bit down on your bottom lip, just enough pressure to make your breath catch.

“You didn’t stop me,” he murmured, breath warm against your skin.

Your mouth opened. “Because—”

“Because you like it,” he said again, low and certain.

You glared at him. “And what if I do?! At least I’m being honest with my feelings.”

Sunghoon raised a brow. “Are you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Because you haven’t really told me anything about your feelings,” he said simply.

You threw your hands up. “Is it not clear?!”

You folded your arms, frustration bubbling up.

“Is it not clear that I clearly like you?!”

And just like that—he was silent.

Sunghoon had always been calm, collected, a little unreadable—but something in his expression faltered then. His cool cracked just a little, the tiniest stutter of surprise flickering across his face.

His heart was doing things he would never admit out loud.

Because no matter how smooth he could be, no matter how many times he kissed you like he knew exactly what he was doing—you were the only one who could completely unravel him.

He looked at you, smiling softly.

“Look under your cup.”

You frowned. “What?”

“The cup,” he said. “Turn it over.”

You squinted at him suspiciously, lifting the cup over your head like it owed you answers. And there—scrawled in slightly smudged black marker under the base—was one word, just barely legible in his messy handwriting:

GIRLFRIEND?

Your breath hitched.

Your arms dropped.

You stared at it, then at him.

He stood there with his usual hands-in-pockets posture, pretending to be all calm and collected—but you saw it. The way his ears were just a little too red. The faint twitch of his mouth like he was holding his breath.

You blinked. “You wrote it… on the bottom of a coffee cup?”

“I thought it was romantic,” he said, completely deadpan.

You raised a brow. “You know people usually use, like, their mouths to say these things, right?”

“I figured this way, you’d actually read it instead of yelling over it.”

You paused.

Touche.

“You truly are a man of few words.”

He shrugged. “You use enough for both of us.”

You rolled your eyes—but your grin gave you away.

And then, quietly, you held the cup closer to your chest.

“…Yes,” you muttered.

His lips twitched. “You’re supposed to say it louder.”

You glared. “Don’t push your luck, loverboy.”

He smiled, wide this time. “Too late.”

Before you could react, his hands wrapped around your waist—confident, steady—and he pulled you in all at once. You let out a small yelp, half laugh, arms instinctively catching onto his shoulders as he swept you closer like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And then he kissed you.

His lips pressed into yours like he already knew you’d say yes, like your quiet little “yes” had unlocked something in him. There was no teasing this time, no smirk hiding behind it—just him, kissing you like he meant it.

His grip tightened around your waist, grounding you against him, your body flush to his as his other hand came up to cradle the side of your neck, his thumb brushing just below your ear. You melted into him without a thought, your fingers curling around the back of his sweater, trying to pull him even closer.

You could feel his heartbeat, fast but steady, pressed right against yours.

When he finally pulled back, just barely, his lips hovered over yours—still close enough to steal another breath.

“I’ve been waiting to do that properly,” he whispered, voice low and warm.

3K notes · View notes

kjhbsies · 23 days ago

Text

Rumor Has It

navigation | main masterlist | rules

James Potter x Slytherin!reader

synopsis: James Potter is in a secret relationship with Y/N, but things spiral when someone mistakes Regulus Black for Y/N’s boyfriend and spreads the rumor around Hogwarts. How far will he go before he can’t take it anymore?

wordcount: 2, 376

note: 16+ fluff.

part II. part III.

He was in Gryffindor— the golden boy, Quidditch captain, and this year's Head Boy. She was a Slytherin— sharp-tongued, keen, and entirely off-limits.

James Potter had a reputation to maintain, and people finding out that you and him were dating would spark nasty rumors, ones that could damage both of your standings. So, one night, hidden in the shadows behind one of the castle's staircases, he proposed that you two keep your relationship a secret.

You immediately agreed. You'd never hear the end of it if someone knew, anyway.

But right now, you were perched on James's lap, your back pressed against the cold walls of an unused classroom. The boy kissed you with hunger, like he hadn't seen you for months.

"Missed you so much, love." He murmured against your lips, hands snaking at the nape of your neck, pulling you impossibly close.

You smiled into the kiss, fingers tangling on his messy curls. "We were just in the same class not an hour ago."

"Details, details," He hummed, fingers creeping dangerously close to the hem of your skirt.

Sure, the two of you shared classes. But between the rift of the two houses— Gryffindor and Slytherin— you two were only reduced to stolen glances, shared smirks behind textbooks, fleeting brushes of fingers as you two passed by each other. Moments that meant everything, but looked like nothing, especially under the watchful eyes of his rowdy friends.

The same group that made a habit of declaring an absolute hatred for your house. Who never missed a chance to sneer at Lucius Malfoy or mock Severus Snape. Who would lose their minds if they found out that James Potter, of all people, was sneaking around with a Slytherin girl.

It all happened at last year's Yule Ball after party. Everyone was beet drunk, sneaking in a couple of firewhiskey and muggle beers and alcohols. You found James pissed drunk, staggering through the rose bush before puking out.

You were just trying to get some fresh air, having been suffocated in a room full of intoxicated young adults. You found him slumped against the stone bench, suit disheveled, crown of the night askew.

"Such an unexpected act from a Slytherin like you," James threw a lopsided smirk when you handed him a bottle of water that you just conjured.

"And such an expected act from a Gryffindor like you. So reckless and annoying." You muttered, rolling your eyes at him.

You expected him to leave you alone after that. Act like nothing happened.

But he didn't.

After that night, James couldn't stop seeing you— even when you weren't looking his way. Couldn't help noticing the twist of your mouth when you read, or how you sat in the far corner of the library where the sun always hit the table just right.

You knew who he was. Everyone did. The James Potter. The boy who pined after Lily Evans for six years. So, yes, you were skeptical. You thought it was a prank. A bet. Some stupid Gryffindor game orchestrated by his infamous friends.

But then weeks passed. Months. And he kept showing up. With books. With sweets. With flushed cheeks and sincere eyes. He started learning the little things about you— like how you tie your shoelace twice, or how you hummed when you were stressed.

And eventually, you gave in.

Honestly, your dating life was surprisingly good. Shocking, even. James turned out to be nothing like what you'd expected. He was thoughtful, passionate, and stupidly charming. He made you laugh. Made you feel seen. The problem was... well, it was a secret.

You weren't famous, per se. Sure, many people knew of you— top of your year, Slug Club regular, often praised by professors. But your name didn't echo towards the halls— not in a way that James's did. Which was fine. You liked it that way.

Most people would never expect you to be James Potter's secret lover. And that was fine, too. You were secure in yourself. Let them think what they want.

But the thing that pisses you off the most was when everyone still kept teasing James with Lily. It was relentless, to say the least. You've heard about the comments. Even his friends laughed about it, like it was some unshakeable part of his identity. You knew they meant no harm— that it was all good and fun— but Merlin, it gets exhausting. Especially now that both of them were Head Students. The school seemed obsessed with watching their every move.

Still, James never made you feel less. Never made you feel like you're the second best. And you were extremely grateful for that.

Sirius Black, for all his charms and recklessness, has an absolute talent for unknowingly stirring the pot.

"Do you reckon Y/n has a boyfriend?" He whispered during Flitwick's lecture, nudging James with his elbow.

James's head snapped toward him so fast. "What?"

Sirius smirked, "I mean, I know we said not to involve ourselves with Slytherins, but I could turn a blind eye. For her, I'd even forgive Malfoy."

James blinked. He felt his left eye twitch. His internal monologue was screaming.

Over my dead, hexed, and dismembered body.

"Who are you talking about?" Peter leaned in.

"Y/n Y/l/n." Sirius said without missing a beat, eyes still glued to where you sat a few rows ahead, effortlessly answering Flitwick's question. "Slytherin's babe."

James's hand gripped his quill so hard that it snapped in two. Sirius didn't even notice.

Peter let out a snort. "Oh, you're too late."

Sirius and James both turned to him, twin expressions of horror and confusion.

"Word is, your brother beat you to it."

Silence.

"What?" James whispered, his voice unnaturally high, which earned looks from Remus, who had been listening quietly.

"Yeah. Regulus. Everyone's basically saying they're a thing now." Peter shrugged.

James's jaw dropped.

"What? Since when? How did that happen?" Sirius asked.

"I don't know, mate. Probably because he has the same face as yours but isn't annoying?"

Sirius scoffed. "Rude."

James's ears almost turned into a violent shade of red. Regulus? REGULUS?!

Remus finally cut in, trying to hush them when he caught Flitwick casting a suspicious glare at them. He nudged Peter with his foot under the desk.

But James was already spiraling. He barely heard a word of the lesson after that. He just stared straight ahead, occasionally throwing a glance your way.

After class, he wanted to march straight up to you and ask you about this Regulus nonsense. But he couldn't. Not with Sirius bouncing beside him, talking about dinner plans, and not with Peter listing why Regulus "would totally pull."

And definitely not with Andromeda swinging her arm around your shoulder, chatting your ear off, pulling you toward the dungeons with the ease of someone who doesn't have a secret boyfriend fuming five feet away.

James and you just quietly exchanged glances before parting in different ways.

"So, what do you mean by Y/n and Regulus?" James asked once they were in the Gryffindor common room. He tried to sound disinterested, like he was just trying to gossip. "He's a year younger than her."

"So?" Remus sat across from him. "Age doesn't matter. They're both adults."

"W-well, yeah, but—" James tried to explain something, but failed to do so.

"Reg doesn't even have game." Sirius still looked bothered by the thought of his own brother having a romantic interest.

Peter leaned back in the chair. "Maybe he doesn't. But he has the face. Mysterious, brooding, those dark, haunted eyes. He looks like a bloody romance lead in a gothic novel, and Y/n's the artsy type. They probably sit in the library and bond over tragedies."

"Yeah, I'm not gonna lie... they do look good together," Remus added.

James looked at him and frowned. "What do you mean they look good together?"

Remus shrugged, "She looks like the kind of girl who'd fall for someone like him— quiet, witty, and handsome."

WRONG. WRONG. WRONG. WRONG. YOU'RE ALL WRONG. BECAUSE I'M DATING HER, YOU TWATS. James sat there, stewing in silence while his friends continued chatting. He barely said a word that night. Sirius assumed he was just sleepy, and Peter thought it was because of his Head Boy duties. But Remus?

Oh, Remus knew.

Later, when only the two of them were left behind, Remus caught up to James just before he went inside his separate Head Boy dorm.

"Hey," He called. "You dating someone?"

James froze.

"W-what?" He squeaked, trying to laugh it off,

Remus smiled, eyes too knowing. "Just asking. Valentine's day is coming up, after all. Lily might be expecting flowers from you. You know her type."

He winked and turned ahead towards the boys' dormitory, leaving James standing alone.

The next evening, James pulled you from the Great Hall after dinner and dragged you into his dorm, leaving no room for protest. His arm was slung over your shoulder like a possessive man, and now, you were on his bed— more accurately, you were pinned under him while he refused to let you go.

You'd barely managed to shuffle into his oversized Gryffindor Quidditch hoodie before he was already throwing himself at you like a starved dog.

He was quiet, oddly so, his arms wrapped around your waist firmly, his face buried into the crook of your neck. Ocassionally, you can hear him sniff you. He was literally inhaling your existence.

"...James?"

"Hmm..?"

Your brows furrowed slightly, fingers weaving through his dark curls— a trick you knew that would either soothe him or get him to talk. Hopefully both.

"You okay, love?" You asked, concern creeping into your voice. "You've been extra clingy tonight. More than usual. You've been practically attached to my hip like a koala."

He let out a muffled whimper against your neck, something between a grunt and a groan. Then, finally, he lifted his head and looked at you— brown, doe eyes, full pout in swing, and hair flopping boyishly on his head.

"Can I ask you something?" He said, very seriously.

Your fingers paused in his hair. "Of course."

"...Is there something going on with you and Regulus?"

Silence.

You blinked. "Regulus Black?"

James nodded miserably before burrowing his head into your lap.

"Love, what?" You asked, stunned and exasperated.

"I'm just asking." He mumbled. "People are saying things."

You laughed softly. "Okay, well, no. Nothing's going on with us. We're just friends. You know that."

James sat up. "Then why does everyone think you're dating him?"

You blinked again, trying to keep up with the sudden tempo change. His arms were crossed now, cheeks puffed out slightly, and brows drawn together like the cutest angry bear.

You bit back a smile. "I mean... maybe because we're friends and we do study together?"

"But I'm dating you!" He whispered-shouted, pointing at himself. "We've been together for months! Why is he the one everyone thinks you're snogging?"

"Probably because we're hiding this, James." You gestured at the two of you. "Like it's the crown jewels."

He flopped onto the bed with a dramatic groan. "Wormy heard the rumors. And you know he remembers everything and says it out loud like he's reading the newspaper headlines."

You lay down beside him and propped your head on your hand. "Okay... and what did he say?"

"That you and Regulus make sense. That you're both dark, mysterious, and brilliant, and pretty—"

You chuckled.

James glared at you. "And Moony agreed! He said you probably like quiet boys who look like they cry reading Wuthering Heights under the candlelight. What does that even mean?!"

You were full-on laughing now. "That does sound like Regulus."

James groaned again, rolling to his side so he could look at you. "And then Pads said you're pretty. And I almost popped a vein right there and then."

You gasped feigningly. "Sirius thinks I'm pretty? I must elope with him now."

"Don't joke like that!" He whined again.

You giggled, poking his chest. "I told you before, Regulus was just my friend. I help him with Potions, and he helps me with Charms. That's it. That's all."

James narrowed his eyes, still not convinced. "Are you sure you don't secretly like guys who brood?"

You booped his nose. "I only like you, Potter."

He huffed, a blush slowly creeping to his cheek. "...Really?"

"Yes. My sunshine, loud, chaotic boy."

James looked at you lovingly. But then, he tried to rally again, sitting up slightly. "I'm not jealous, by the way."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah." He hummed. "I'm just saying. Regulus is all... poetic and quiet and mysterious and you like books and art and moody stuff—"

You raised a brow. "So... you are jealous."

"I am not!"

"You totally are." You sing-sung.

"Am not!"

"Then why are you pouting?" You teased, reaching over to squish his cheeks.

"I always pout." He grumbled, but didn't resist the affection.

"And why'd you drag me to your bed like a clingy boyfriend who lost his teddy bear?"

"Because I am your clingy boyfriend who lost his teddy bear."

"Aww," You cooed, leaning in to kiss his forehead. "My poor jelly baby."

"I'm not jelly," He said with a pout.

You peppered his face with kisses until he stopped sulking, which only took about eight seconds. You were now situated on his lap, hands cupping both of his cheeks, while his hands were on your waist, pulling you close.

"I like you, James Potter. Not my poetic, sad-boy friend. Not Sirius. Not Remus. Not Peter— although he is very entertaining."

"Thank Merlin." James sighed. "I don't think I could survive if I ever lost you to Regulus. I would become a monk."

"You? A monk? You couldn't go twelve hours without touching me."

He grinned, face buried in your shoulder. "You know me so well."

“I do. So trust me when I say you’re my favorite boy. The loudest, sweetest, most golden-hearted one of all.”

“Even if I don’t read Wuthering Heights?”

“Especially because you don’t read Wuthering Heights.”

James grinned.

And if you caught him muttering mine mine mine mine into your neck while you both fell asleep, you didn’t say anything.

But you definitely smiled the whole time.

©kjhbsies

taglist: @tamprongsobsessor

#james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x you #james potter fanfiction #james potter fluff #marauders #james potter

2K notes · View notes

lowkeyren · 5 months ago

Text

in which : alhaitham speaks to you in 5 different languages, unaware that you understand every word he says.

wc 7.3k (pls give it a chance lol), academic rivals to lovers, unrequited hate, attempt at humor, college au, denial + pinning.. crazy ik, he falls first (and harder), tw stalking by a drunkard, a genius on paper but a total dumbass when it comes to crushes, lil smau at the end!, ft. sumeru gang. art by @/gamegatchihaja on x.

ps. translations ay nasa maliliit na titik, katulad neto!!

ps. translations will be in small letters, like this!!

PROLOGUE: GOD I HATE THIS GUY! (DOES HE THINK IM STUPID?)

the semester is nearing its conclusion, and the imminent approach of finals marks the most critical period of the year; students rush through the halls, clutching their notes and textbooks like lifelines, while you pour every ounce of effort into your studies —not just for your grades, but also to surpass a certain arrogant scholar.

alhaitham.

the name tastes like spoiled milk on your tongue, a sour reminder of all the times he’s bested you, even if it’s just by a small margin, leaving you dumbfounded when the difference between your marks during the last exam was a mere 1%.

you were groveling in front of your professor, “please, just round the marks up?” you could practically feel your dignity slipping away. and the worst part? you were so desperate that you started mentally calculating how many odd jobs you’d be willing to do just to sweeten the deal.

(maybe you’ll help organize the office, run around the campus to buy him drinks every day, or even wipe down the windows of his car…)

disclaimer: he ultimately said no, but he did compliment your impeccable taste in coffee so, a win is a win?

anyhow, alhaitham’s nonchalance only adds to your frustration, especially when he switches to a different language mid-conversation. it feels like he’s rubbing salt in your wounds, why of course you can understand him perfectly —after all, you aren’t majoring in linguistics for no reason, plus he's not the only one who’s fluent in multiple languages.

though you keep that to yourself, perhaps because the things he says in those languages, which he assumes you don’t understand, are far from innocent, unknowingly letting you have a glimpse into his true feelings.

ACT I: WHOLEHEARTEDLY, I DETEST YOU.

alhaitham would never fall in love —such irrational and illogical emotions held no value to him.

that was what he always believed, but then he saw you.

the way you laughed so unapologetically at cyno’s jokes, how you always stood firm by your beliefs, your refusal to compromise who you are; you were a breath of fresh air in a world that often felt stifling.

as much as he tries to act unfazed, he can't help the heat prickling his skin nor the way his composure falters just slightly in your presence. and when his heart raced for the first time in what felt like forever, he knew —he was completely, utterly screwed.

(“fix me, kaveh.” / “hah. who do you think i am, ‘y/n’?”)

when kaveh told him that he just had a simple “crush”, he nearly rolled his eyes so hard he thought they might get stuck there permanently.)

likewise, this ugly arrogant handsome bastard here, is one you’ll never fall in love with.

he’s infuriating, completely insufferable, and yet there’s something about him, something hidden beneath that arrogance, that draws you in. the idea that you could ever fall for someone like him seems laughable, impossible even. he's exactly the kind of person you should avoid and you know better than to be charmed by someone like him. yet, there's that nagging feeling, deep down, that perhaps you’re not as immune to him as you think.

by some stroke of luck, you’re in the same major, same year, and even enrolled in the same lecture periods, which means you end up in the same place at the same time more often than not.

but you can’t deny that, in some twisted way, you admire him. his intellect is beyond impressive, even if it annoys you to admit it. so surely, in his eyes, you’re still inferior, and you often wonder if he even considers your ideas as worthy of attention.

(they are.)

ACT II: YOUR WATCHFUL EYES, I CAN’T IGNORE.

your pen glides across the pages as you jot down notes, fully absorbed in your studies, barely registering the faint sound of distant chatter.

unbeknownst to you, a group of students has gathered just outside the lecture hall, peeking in from the door with curious, amused expressions. they’re clearly there for you, exchanging glances and murmurs, waiting for the moment you step outside.

you don’t notice, but alhaitham, seated a few feet away, certainly does.

his eyes narrow slightly as he takes in the scene. he doesn’t say anything at first, but his jaw clenches ever so subtly. as you begin to pack up, you glance up to find him standing in front of you, his tall figure effectively blocking the group outside’s direct line of sight to you.

with a discreet glance over his shoulder, he shoots them a cold, unmistakable glare. they visibly shudder, seemingly getting the message as they awkwardly shuffle away.

“what was that about?”

alhaitham leans against your desk, “nothing important,” his tone is dismissive, laced with irritation, his gaze still fixed on the now-empty doorway.

you narrow your eyes, unimpressed. “really? you just scared them off for no reason?”

“just getting rid of some… distractions,” he says casually, turning his attention back towards you. you raise an eyebrow, clearly not believing his words. “distractions? they weren’t bothering me.”

his expression remains impassive, “khi họ cứ để ý đến em như vậy… em thấy không phiền, còn tôi thì có.”

“seeing them constantly paying attention to you… you're not bothered by it, but i am.”

“bởi vì cái cách mà em chú tâm hoàn toàn vào một việc gì đó… nó quyến rũ vô cùng.”

because the way you completely focus on something… is truly mesmerising.

you blink, feeling a momentary flush of confusion and surprise at the words slipping from his mouth. did he just—? but before you can fully process it, he continues.

“vậy nên tôi cũng không thể trách họ khi họ muốn nhìn em gần và lâu hơn được.”

so i don’t blame them when they want to look at you closer and longer.

his words linger in the air, a moment passes before it clicks —he doesn’t think you understand. that’s why he’s speaking so… freely; letting slip things he’d never say outright in a language you both speak fluently.

“nhưng mà… chắc không ai trong số bọn họ có thể sánh ngang với tôi, em nhỉ?”

but… none of them can compare to me, right?

your chest tightens as a surge of warmth courses through you.

his detached attitude only fuels your irritation. but there’s also a certain satisfaction in knowing something he doesn’t: you’ve understood every single word he’s said.

feigning ignorance, you raise an eyebrow, meeting his gaze with what you hope is a neutral expression. "what are you going on about?" you ask.

his expression remains as stoic as ever, not a single crack in his mask. he simply shrugs, eyes still on you, "just telling you to focus more.”

your grip on the pen tightens, there's a part of you that wants to wipe that smug look off his face, to show him you're not as clueless as he assumes. but not yet —you’re curious to see just how far he’s willing to push.

"right," you mutter under your breath, tapping the pen against your notebook. "focus. got it."

he leans down slightly, one arm resting on the back of your chair while the other presses against the table, effectively caging you in.

"you're wasting time, finals are coming up." he takes a brief pause before continuing, "i wish you the best of luck, you’ll need it.”

your eyes snap up to him in a glare, “don’t you have somewhere to be?" you bite back.

alhaitham straightens, giving you a final glance before turning towards the door. “naturally, i have studying to do.”

“bởi vì tôi sẽ chứng minh cho em thấy rằng chỉ có tôi mới xứng tầm làm đối thủ học thuật của em, không một ai khác.”

because i will prove to you that only i am worthy of being your rival, no one else.

why did he frame it as if it’s a privilege only he can claim? or is he trying to… flatter you?!

you shake your head, no way, that’s ridiculous. finals are coming up, there’s no time to dwell on whatever mind games he’s playing. though if the almighty alhaitham wants a rival, then you’ll show him exactly what it means to stand at the pinnacle.

ACT III: IN MY DREAMS, I SCORED HIGHER THAN YOU.

you’re tired, the kind of tired that seeps deep into your bones. every blink stretches longer than the last and you find it increasingly difficult to focus on the words in front of you. stifling a yawn, you feel the pull of sleep tugging at you, whispering sweet promises of rest.

there’s still time till your next class.

maybe you'll take a moment to close your eyes, just for a few seconds…

did you not get enough sleep last night, or did you stay up late studying again? alhaitham watches silently from across the room, his eyes narrowing as your head droops lower, your exhaustion becoming painfully obvious with each passing second. his gaze lingers on the way your pen pauses mid-sentence, the line on your notebook trailing off as your hand grows heavy.

he pushes himself up from his seat, and approaches your desk; he notices the sunlight streaming through the window, harsh and unrelenting, hitting right over the table where you’re sitting. he looks at you —eyes closed, with the faintest crease of discomfort on your brow.

without a word, he reaches out and slips the pen from your grip, the slight shift causing your fingers to twitch, but you don’t wake.

for a fleeting second, he considers waking you. but then, as you shift again, settling more comfortably into your chair, he decides against it. what good would that do, anyway? you’d probably just brush him off and keep going until you collapse from sheer fatigue. typical.

instead, he adjusts his stance slightly, positioning himself just right to make sure the sunlight is fully blocked from your face, casting you in a cool shadow.

you mumble something incoherent, and he can’t help but roll his eyes at your state. did you really think burning yourself out like this would help you focus?

“stubborn,” he mutters under his breath.

you're always like this, pushing yourself past your limits, and while part of him respects your determination to outdo him, he won’t allow it to come at the expense of your health.

you stir from your slumber, lifting your head, your gaze lands on a familiar figure standing to the side of your table. his back turned, facing the sunlight that streams in from the window.

alhaitham.

he’s close, so close that his broad shoulders completely block out the sunlight from the window. the sight sends a rush of confusion through your already sleep-addled mind. did he… stand there the whole time? why?

you shift slightly in your seat, your movement catching his attention. without turning, he speaks in that low, steady tone of his, “you’re awake.”

“alhaitham?” you murmur, your voice still thick with sleep.

he glances over his shoulder, just enough for you to catch a glimpse of the calm expression on his face. “you’ve been out for a while,” he comments, a hint of amusement in his voice. “i was starting to think you’d sleep through your next class.”

you rub the sleep from your eyes, “why didn’t you wake me up then?”

his shoulders shift slightly as he shrugs, still facing away from you. “you looked like you needed the rest. besides, it’s more entertaining to see how long you’d stay asleep.”

a flicker of annoyance courses through you as you roll your eyes, “oh, so you mean you care?”

he turns slightly, and you can see a hint of a smirk on his lips. “don’t read too much into it. i just prefer my competition functioning at their best.”

you wish you could roll your eyes harder because this man has an uncanny talent for grating on your nerves while somehow being insufferably charming at the same time.

“ah yes —because you need me to keep up with you,” you remark sarcastically.

“exactly.” you let out an exasperated sigh as you lean back in your chair. “you really think so highly of yourself, don’t you?”

“mushiro, kimi no koto o hijō ni takaku hyōka shiteiru yo.”

if anything, i think highly of you.

your brows knit together in surprise, and you can’t help but scoff. “what was that? i didn't catch it.”

“i said i won’t go easy on you.” oh, the audacity. he’s lying again, and he knows it.

the corners of your mouth twitch in disbelief as you scrutinise his expression. there’s that familiar glimmer in his eyes, a spark of mischief that tells you he’s enjoying this too much.

“whatever,” you retort, crossing your arms defiantly. “not like i want you to anyway.”

despite your words, you can't deny that his actions earlier were surprisingly endearing. you wonder how long he intends to keep this up. perhaps it’s time you let him know.

“ii ne, kimi ga iraira shite iru toki wa kawaiikara.”

good, because you’re cute when you’re all riled up.

you feel a blush creep into your cheeks at his words, okay maybe you shouldn’t let him know. you instinctively look away, as if avoiding his gaze can help you regain your composure.

cute? what does he mean “cute”?! he thinks he can get away with calling you cute —well… well, there’s not much you can do about it, you’re not ready to confront him about this either.

the mere thought of asking him directly makes your stomach twist with a year’s worth of embarrassment. yet, as you try to refocus on the book in front of you, you find yourself biting your lip, struggling to suppress a smile that threatens to break free.

ACT IV: I WOKE UP TODAY, AND A DREAM CAME TRUE.

the hallway buzzes with excitement as students gather around the large announcement board, eager to see the results of their theses. you push through the crowd, heart pounding, the low hum of chatter filling your ears.

when you reach the front, you quickly scan the list; the moment your eyes land on your name, your breath catches in your throat.

there it is, in bold red ink at the top of the board —a score higher than you’d ever hoped for, higher than his. and your name, on top of his.

alhaitham.

you glance over and spot him approaching the board, approaching you. his expression is, as always, unreadable. but you know him well enough by now to catch the slight pause in his movements, the brief moment where his eyes linger just a second too long on the board.

you try not to think too much about it as you collect your thesis, with alhaitham following closely behind, his fingers nearly grazing yours as you both sift through the stack of papers on the table.

you take in the glowing praise from your professor, each word making you feel like every all-nighter was worth it. you clutch the paper, resisting the urge to grin like an idiot.

glancing sideways, you wait for him to say something, maybe some backhanded comment, but he remains silent. your eyes meet, and there’s a shift in his gaze as the usual sharpness in his eyes dulls ever so slightly, your smile lingering like the first light of dawn breaking through the night's embrace.

it’s subtle —just a flicker —but you catch how his gaze falters, softening, if only for a heartbeat. the edges of his stare blur, drawn to the warmth of your expression as though it’s something he hadn’t meant to witness, yet can’t look away from.

at this moment,

"looks like i finally beat you," you say, not bothering to suppress the grin spreading across your face now.

he feels like

there’s no scowl, no sign of frustration —just the slightest raise of an eyebrow. “hmm. by a point.” he pauses, studying you for a second longer than necessary before returning his gaze to his paper. “enjoy it while it lasts.”

he's in heaven.

it’s as if he’s not bothered by the outcome at all. in fact, if anything, he seems... satisfied?

"hindi dapat ganito kalala ang epekto ng ngiti mo sa akin."

your smile shouldn't affect me this badly.

“—huh?” your mouth drops slightly open at his words; out of everything, you didn’t expect him to say that. it catches you off guard, making your heart race just a little faster. if you peer closely enough, you might catch a glimpse of the gentle arch of his lips, a ghost of a smile.

the silence stretches on for a beat too long before he clears his throat and shifts his gaze away from you. “ang iyong ngiti ang pinakamagandang tanawin ng aking araw.”

your smile is the most beautiful sight of my day.

“what?” the word slips from your lips, barely a breath, a soft gasp that hangs in the air. it feels almost surreal and you wonder if you’ve misheard him.

each heartbeat thunders in your ears, a rhythm that matches the erratic flutter in your chest. why is he saying these things, what for in a different language…? there’s no way that he—

"—tulad mo na ang hinangad ko na ligawan, ngunit sa bawat ngiti mo, halip ay mas lalo akong nahulog para sayo."

—like you, who i wish to court, but with every smile, i instead found myself falling for you.

your breath hitches as your heart stumbles, the implications of his words washing over you like a wave. a rush of heat floods your cheeks, “what… did you say?”

his shoulders stiffen, and there’s a subtle tension in the way his fingers curl against the paper he’s holding. “see you tomorrow, [name],” he mutters, his voice low but hurried, and before you know it, he’s already walking away.

two strange things happened today:

1. you finally beat your sworn enemy!

2. said enemy… complimented you?

huh, it’s as if the words slipped out before he could catch them, as if he’s been holding them in for far too long, as if… you notice the way his neck reddens, even as he turns away.

behind the door, alhaitham lets out a quiet breath.

“gago… nagkamali ba ako?”

stupid… did i make a mistake?

to his dismay, an annoyingly familiar voice cuts through the silence. kaveh, who had been waiting just down the hall, notices him standing there, a little too still.

“oh, what do we have here?" there's a slight pause, followed by a raised eyebrow. "is that—no way, your face is red!” kaveh teases, amusement dancing in his eyes. “what happened there?" he leans in, clearly enjoying himself. "come on, spill the tea..!”

"not a chance," alhaitham retorts, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms defensively.

just then, kaveh spots cyno and tighnari; grinning, he waves them over. “what’s going on? did alhaitham finally crack under pressure?”

alhaitham would rather reorganise the entire library than listen to kaveh recount what happened.

“i’m leaving.”

"no, i'm afraid you're not getting out of this one.” cyno steps forward, blocking alhaitham’s path; and tighnari, who has been quietly observing till now, chimes in, “don’t leave us hanging.”

“you’re outnumbered.”

alhaitham sighs and shakes his head. he hadn’t even thought it was physically possible for him, of all people, to do something as ridiculous as blushing —until today.

(on the other side of the door, their banter echoes through, and you can’t help but chuckle to yourself at alhaitham’s misery.)

ACT V: PLAUSIBLE DENIABILITY, YOU SAY? BUT EVERYONE CALLS IT FLIRTING.

“i think alhaitham likes [name].”

the whole table falls silent before kaveh dramatically slams his glass down on the table, causing a splash of alcohol to spill over the edge. “oh finally, it’s so obvious! have you all seen the way he looks at them?”

across the table, tighnari taps his fingers absentmindedly on his notebook, his attention only half on kaveh’s (incoming) rant but clearly invested enough, as shown by the slight twitching of his ears, to be listening.

cyno snickers, “you’re telling me the man who can dissect any philosophical argument can’t handle a little crush? that’s rich.”

kaveh waves a hand dismissively. “come on! remember that time they were partnered up for a project? he was so... uncharacteristically patient! i’d almost say it’s cute if it weren’t alhaitham we’re talking about!”

right, it’d be almost endearing —if it weren’t coming from the most stoic, intimidatingly aloof guy in the entire school. it’d be adorable —if it weren’t alhaitham, who instinctively covers the corner of your table with his hand when you drop your pencil, ensuring you won’t hit your head as you bend down to retrieve it.

oh, you don’t notice (of course not). but your friend dehya, sitting nearby, catches the whole scene out of the corner of her eye. she raises an eyebrow, nudging the girl beside her.

(“candace, do you see that shit.” / “yeah.”)

“a soft spot for [name], you say? well, i’ve got a story of my own, too.” cyno glances around, ensuring no one else is within earshot, then lowers his voice conspiratorially. “have you noticed? he doesn’t wear his earphones when he’s around them.”

kaveh pipes up, nodding eagerly.

“he’s got those earphones practically glued to his head, he doesn’t hear anything he doesn’t want to, and he certainly doesn’t talk unless he’s forced to. but around them?” cyno pauses, pretending to think for a while. “not once. he’ll put them away entirely, like he’s actually willing to be… present.”

sure it’s small, subtle, the kind of habit no one would pick up on unless they were looking closely. but to anyone who knew alhaitham well, it tells them more than words ever could.

for him, actions speak louder than words, even if he often doesn’t realise the meaning behind his own gestures.

his earphones slide down, resting forgotten around his neck, all so he can be close enough to catch the delightful lilt of your laughter. his chair inches a fraction closer, seemingly by accident. a subtle upward twitch at the corner of his mouth, so fleeting and often passing so quickly if one weren’t paying attention.

for him, it’s a language without words.

dehya laughs softly. "for someone who supposedly ‘doesn’t like being bothered,’ he sure seems invested in whatever [name] has to say."

and what sealed their suspicions?

definitely the time when kaveh complimented nilou’s new bracelet. he glanced over at the man beside him, nudging him lightly. “what do you think?”

alhaitham gave the bracelet a cursory glance, before replying, “it’s nice.” though his gaze flickered back; and almost absently, he added after a pause, “[name] has the same one too.”

oh… oh? well that was oddly specific. kaveh’s eyebrow quirked as he fought to suppress a grin.

alhaitham had noticed a detail seemingly insignificant about [name] —the kind of thing he never cared to show the slightest interest in when it came to anyone else.

the glint in nilou’s eyes seemed to mirror kaveh’s unspoken thoughts, silently agreeing with his suspicions.

now they’re certain —100% sure, in fact —that alhaitham has a crush on you.

“well, speak of the devil… lovely seeing you here, alhaitham,” kaveh quips. tighnari, ever observant, gives him a pointed look. “your jacket’s missing.”

“someone took it,” alhaitham replies, his tone as composed as always, giving nothing away.

—nothing until you walked past. draped over your shoulders, unmistakable, is alhaitham’s jacket. you don’t notice the way every pair of eyes follows you, or the way kaveh barely stifles a triumphant laugh.

...make that 110%.

(translation: he means he borrowed his jacket because [name] was cold.)

ACT VI: IT’S YOU, WHO COMES TO MY RESCUE.

the quiet night hangs heavy, the road empty and bathed in the dim glow of distant streetlights. you weave through the streets, but no matter how many twists and turns you take, that weirdo just won’t leave you alone.

he’s been trailing behind you for blocks now, his persistence grating on your nerves, cornering you with endless “compliments” and invasive questions. you’ve tried to shake him off, but his determination far exceeds your patience.

"come on, just give me a chance," he insists, stepping closer, a little too close for comfort. you take a step back. the smell of alcohol reeks from his breath, and his grin is making your skin crawl.

"i told you, i’m not interested," you say firmly, keeping your voice steady, but the panic was starting to creep in. you glance at the empty bottle in his hand —he’s definitely drunk out his mind.

“you sure?" he completely ignores your clear discomfort. "how about you just give me your number, yeah?" he slurs out.

"no, i have a boyfriend." you lie through your teeth, hoping that would be enough to make him back off.

unfortunately, he’s as insufferable as he is persistent.

he snorts dismissively, "yeah, right. a boyfriend? you’re just playing hard to get."

you sigh, you aren’t in the mood for this, not here, not now, and especially not with someone like him. "i already told you, i have a boyfriend," your voice now tinged with frustration. "so please, just leave me alone.”

"oh, don't be like that," he steps in front of you, blocking your way. "prove it. call your boyfriend. show me you’re not lying."

your heart races as the man reaches out for you, dodging his hand, you take the chance to look behind him for an escape. just then, you see an all-too-familiar figure in the distance.

alhaitham.

you barely manage to suppress a relieved sigh as you wave frantically in his direction. he spots you almost immediately and without hesitation, he rushes over.

"what, this your boyfriend?" the guy sneers with derision, still sounding a little too cocky for someone who was about to get a reality check.

alhaitham steps beside you, you can feel his eyes on you for just a brief moment, the faintest flicker of worry flashing across his face. it’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but you catch it—and it makes your chest tighten.

his voice is low, unmistakably carrying a warning, "yes, i’m their boyfriend. and if you don’t want things to escalate, i suggest you leave."

the man’s face twists as anger flares in his bloodshot eyes. he takes a step forward, his grip tightening around the neck of the bottle, the glass slightly cracking. "you think you can tell me what to do?" he slurs, gaze wild and unfocused. “y-you think you’re some kind of saviour? *hic* a-and you! how… how dare you reject me?!”

alhaitham doesn’t move, his expression cold and unbothered, and that only seems to make the man angrier. his frustration boils over, and with a snarl, he clumsily swings the bottle in his hand, aggressively lurching towards your direction.

the world seems to slow for a moment. though before you can even react, alhaitham pulls you firmly behind him with one swift motion, his other arm instinctively rising to shield the both of you from the blow. the sound of glass meeting his forearm is sharp and jarring —you can hear the high-pitched tinkle of glass scattering, the jagged shards bouncing off the pavement, and some skittering across the ground.

but he doesn’t even flinch, his stance unwavering as the man stumbles back, glass crunching underfoot. you’re still frozen from shock, your heart racing in your chest as you watch the scene unfold.

“big mistake,” he starts, and the man visibly falters. “harassment, assault —keep this up, and you’ll regret every choice that brought you here tonight.”

the man shifts around, clearly disoriented. his eyes dart between you and alhaitham, but it’s clear that the fight’s already left him. “you— you can’t do this!” the man stammers, trying to regain some semblance of courage; unfortunately for him, the tremor in his voice is unmistakable.

“do you really want to find out?” alhaitham asks, to which the man shakes his head vigorously. “get lost,” he mutters. the man, looking more pathetic than threatening now, quickly stumbles away, mumbling incoherent curses under his breath.

you’re breathless, still clutching the edge of his jacket, fingers trembling slightly as the adrenaline courses through you.

"are you alright?"

you nod, forcing a small, unconvincing smile."yeah... i’m fine. thanks to you."

alhaitham’s eyes narrow slightly, scanning you for any sign of injury. you follow his gaze instinctively, glancing down at yourself. that’s when you notice it —not on you, but on him.

streaks of red stain his forearm, where jagged shards of glass must have cut him during the confrontation. the gash bleeds steadily, a dark line of blood seeping through the fabric of his jacket.

"wait," you breathe, your heart sinking. "you're bleeding."

your stomach twists with guilt.

"why didn’t you say anything?" you exclaim.

he shakes his head, a dismissive gesture that does nothing to ease the knot forming in your stomach. "it’s nothing," he says, but the slight furrow in his brow and the tension in his jaw betray his words.

"nothing?" you fix him with a hard glare. "idiot… you just blocked a glass bottle with your arm, don’t try to downplay this."

you grab his sleeve, tugging it gently but firmly, the fabric sliding beneath your fingers as you pull it up. “—and unless you think an infection is ‘nothing’, you’ll let me take care of this."

"hold still," you murmur as you settle beside him on the couch, your supplies spread across the coffee table in front of you.

the scent of antiseptic fills the air as you take a disinfectant wipe and gently dab it against the gash. the sting of the alcohol makes him flinch slightly, but he doesn’t pull away. you mutter a soft apology, your movements slow and deliberate as you try to be as gentle as you can.

you open a tube of ointment, squeezing a small amount onto your finger before smoothing it carefully along the edges of the cut. the cool gel glides over his skin, and you can feel the tension in his arm ease ever so slightly under your touch.

“nǐ zhème guān xīn wǒ, huì ràng wǒ wù huì de.”

if you care so much about me, i might misunderstand you.

your fingers pause briefly, the words catching you off guard. you glance up at him, but he only averts his gaze, his eyes remaining fixed on a distant spot beyond the room.

misunderstand? misunderstand what, exactly?

the bandage wraps securely around his arm as you smooth it into place. as you tuck the end of the bandage, his voice comes again, just as soft, but no less clear.

“—wù huì nǐ duì wǒ yǒu gǎn jué.”

"—misunderstand that you have feelings for me."

your brain short-circuits, and in your shock, your hands jerk. in turn, the bandage tightens way too much, causing him to wince and tense up. before you can apologise, he lets out a light chuckle.

“suǒ yǐ nǐ dān xīn wǒ… nǐ shì bù shì gù yì ràng rén xīn dòng de?”

“so you're worried about me… are you purposely trying to make my heart race?”

his words only make you more flustered, and you find yourself fumbling to fix the bandage. “i’m sorry! i didn’t mean to—”

his chuckle only grows softer, and you catch the glint of amusement in his eyes. “it’s fine.”

you quickly finish adjusting the bandage, trying to focus on anything other than how your heart is now racing. (ironically)

“you seem flustered,” he comments casually, as if he isn’t the one who just made your head spin. “did i say something wrong?”

you shake your head quickly, hoping to hide the flush creeping up your neck. "no, not at all.”

his lips twitch into the faintest hint of a smirk.

"nǐ bù bì yǎn shì, wǒ xǐ huān nǐ hài xiū de yàng zǐ, tǐng kě ài de.”

“you don’t have to hide it. i like seeing your flustered expression, it’s quite cute.”

(oh this bastard!!!!)

you try to speak, but the words get stuck in your throat. what do you say when someone’s teasing you so openly —and they think you don’t even realise it?

after a long moment, he stands, “it’s getting late, i should get going.” alhaitham gives you a small, almost imperceptible nod, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment —and there it was, that trace of softness reserved only for you.

he heads toward the door, you watch him, feeling a strange sense of emptiness when he turns away.

“i’ll see you,” he pauses. "...and thank you for tending to me."

you watch him leave, the door clicking softly behind him, and the silence settles back into the room.

you blink, taking a deep breath. what a rollercoaster of a day. yawning, you turn to start tidying up, but your eyes land on something on the couch.

it’s his jacket, draped over the armrest. you notice a tear on the sleeve, just where his injured forearm had been. what truly catches your attention, however, is a folded piece of paper slipping out of the pocket.

intrigued, you unfold it, revealing his neat, precise handwriting.

ACT VII: THE SECRET I’VE ALWAYS KNOWN.

To [Name], I once believed you to be little more than a nuisance. A bright, well-meaning nuisance, no doubt, but a nuisance nonetheless. One who seemed intent only on striving for perfection, always seeking to best me at every turn, not out of malice but out of some earnest desire to prove your worth. In my arrogance, I mistook your relentless pursuit for a need for recognition, as if you sought my attention in some petty rivalry. Though very quickly, you made me think otherwise. You saw the world differently, you also saw me differently. You didn’t treat me with the reverence others seemed to, nor did you shy away from challenging me. You refused to be seen as anything other than yourself; and that, in itself, was what made me admire you —what made me long to understand you more. Now, I find that I am standing with half a heart and an emptiness I never knew I could feel, because you showed me what it truly means to crave something more, something I never thought I deserved. You may think I’m a coward for not expressing my feelings more directly, perhaps you are right. I am a coward for fearing to lay bare the vulnerability of my heart. But even in my cowardice, know that my thoughts have always been of you. If you have seen through my silence and hesitation, if you understand my actions when my words fail me, then perhaps you have already known this truth. I care for you, more deeply than I can fully express. Though I may never be able to say these things as openly as I wish, I’d like you to know that my actions have always been my confession. Even now, I’m still a coward for you. So please, if you decide to give me a chance, I’ll be waiting at nightfall. Helplessly, Alhaitham.

you absentmindedly trace the edges of the letter with your fingers while your eyes skim over his writing for the nth time, the ink seeming to blur together with your thoughts as you try to process everything. your fingers curl around the fabric of his jacket, a foolish smile creeping onto your face.

tomorrow’s nightfall feels impossibly far away, yet you can’t wait for it.

alhaitham lays on his bed, his arm aches slightly from the injury, but it’s nothing he can’t ignore. plus, the bandage you had carefully wrapped around his arm is enough to keep the discomfort at bay.

(originally, he had only planned to meet you, slip you the note, and be on his way. things didn’t go exactly to plan, but either way, he hopes you’ve read it by now.)

of all the possibilities, he’s never accounted for the one he’d be at mercy of his own emotions; he had always prided himself on his rationality, his restraint. but now? he’s reckless, absurd, foolish even —he can admit that to himself. but he finds he doesn’t care in the slightest.

for as much as he is a coward in your presence, he is just as much a fool in your absence.

ACT VIII: UNDER THE RAIN, I HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY.

“alhaitham isn’t really an expressive person, so don’t worry if he comes off as distant or uninterested. it’s not that he doesn’t care, he just… shows it differently.”

ah well, ‘differently’ indeed.

“—most importantly, alhaitham doesn’t waste time on people he doesn’t care about, so you must mean a lot to him.”

maybe you didn’t mind how your heart raced when you heard that.

“don’t fuss over it [name], you’ll know when he’s in love.”

how so?

if he was in love, what would it look like? would you be able to tell, or would it be just another one of those things you had to catch on to?

you wrapped the his jacket tighter around yourself, a faint smile tugging at your lips. it wasn’t the answers to those questions that mattered, but asking them in the first place —that was what made you realize you already knew all along.

the evening air is cool against your skin; a gentle breeze stirs the trees, their leaves rustling quietly, and your heart beats louder than ever, urging you forward.

in the distance, you spot him, standing still in the dim light. and without a second thought, you quicken your pace.

“haitham.”

the sound of your voice catches his attention as he turns to face you; you can’t help but notice how his gaze flickers down for just a moment, his eyes taking in on how his jacket looks on you, before meeting yours.

his posture is unnervingly perfect, rigid almost to the point of stiffness …is he nervous?

“hey,” he finally says, clearing his throat. “there’s something i need to tell you… though you’ve probably already figured it out. you’ve always been sharp.”

“i… ” he falters, and it’s the first time you see him hesitate. “i’m not sure how to put it… since i’m not exactly great at this.”

you tilt your head, subtly urging him to continue.

“but you’ve managed to make me care about things i never thought i would. and now i can’t seem to stop thinking about it —about you.” his voice lowers, softer now, but there’s a rawness there that’s unmistakable.

“i’m telling you this now, because not saying it... doesn’t feel right anymore."

suddenly, you feel a soft mist that barely kisses your skin, a slight chill against your cheeks, then a few tiny drops, until they start to gather in your hair, the beads of water slipping down the back of your neck, but you don't move. neither does he.

his hair is damp, sticking to his forehead, droplets trailing down his temple. his clothes cling to his frame, soaked by the rain, yet his attention remains solely on you.

“[name], i am irrevocably in love with you.”

you stand there, the rain falling relentlessly around you, the pitter-patter mirroring the frantic beat of your heart. the water trails down his face, but it’s hard to tell if it’s just the rain, or something else.

his lips part, as though he wants to say more, but the words seem caught in the storm, swallowed up by the downpour. the rain is cold, but his gaze? his gaze feels impossibly warm.

it’s only when you feel the dampness of his jacket beneath your fingers, that the words finally come. “you don’t need to convince me of that.”

you take a step closer, and for a moment, the world outside seems to disappear.

“i’ve known,” you add. “but hearing you say it,” you pause, allowing yourself a small smile, “makes all the difference.”

reaching up, your fingers graze his damp skin as you gently push a wet strand of hair from his forehead, the warmth of your touch lingering against his cool skin.

“'uhibuk aydan, alhaitham.”

i love you too, alhaitham.

a single droplet slides down his cheek, tracing the line of his jaw before falling to the soaked fabric of his collar. another follows. and then another. his breath catches in his throat, and a shaky exhale leaves his mouth.

you wrap your arms around him, and he sinks into your embrace, his hair tickling your cheeks, as his chest rises and falls against yours.

“you’re gonna make me cry too, idiot,” you murmur, burying your face in his chest, your eyes glassy. “you really are a fool,” you tease softly, a slight smile playing on your lips. “but only for me.”

slowly, his hands rise, trembling slightly, until they cup your cheeks, gently stroking it.

“la yujad 'ahad akhar 'urid 'an 'akun 'ahmaq min 'ajlihi.”

there’s no one else i’d ever want to be a fool for.

his palms are surprisingly warm despite the weather. his thumb grazes your cheekbone as he leans in, and the world falls away —nothing but the warmth of his presence and the soft press of his lips against yours.

“this is my first time in ten years seeing this guy cry! can you believe it?!” kaveh whisper-shouts, peeking out from behind the shrub.

nodding along, cyno agrees, poking his head out just right below the blond’s. “[name] is truly exceptional. though i must say, seeing alhaitham cry is quite tear-rifying.”

kaveh rolls his eyes in exasperation. “ugh, you and your puns.” he mutters under his breath while zooming in on his phone, which is currently recording the whole scene.

“quiet down, you two!” a voice hisses from behind them —tighnari, face flushed with panic. “they’re literally right there, and you’re making more noise than a herd of goats.”

“relax, we’re out of their line of sight anyway!” kaveh raises his phone higher, almost giddily, eyes glued to the screen. “and damn this is a good angle.”

tighnari exhales sharply, “you’re incorrigible.”

“look who’s talking,” cyno raises an eyebrow at tighnari… who’s also peeking out from behind the bush. (what a hypocrite)

…

“they kissed oh my g—” kaveh’s voice rises in disbelief, but cyno quickly covers his mouth with a swift hand. the three of them scramble to duck behind the bush just as you turn to glance in their direction.

(“is that… senior kaveh?” you squint your eyes, “cyno, and tighnari?”

alhaitham clears his throat before glancing over at his friends with a deadpan expression. “yes and unfortunately, they’re very invested in my personal life. so please don’t mind them."

you laugh, finding the whole situation a bit too amusing. “not in the slightest, but i’m sure they’ll never let you hear the end of it.”)

EPILOGUE: IN EVERY LANGUAGE, I HEAR LOVE YOU.

“how long?”

you blink, feigning confusion. “how long what?”

alhaitham’s eyes narrow slightly, an expression you know well. “how long have you understood everything i’ve been saying?”

you bite back a smile and offer a small shrug, “...ever since you started?”

his lips press into a thin line, and for a moment, you can’t tell if he’s upset or impressed. then, he sighs, almost amused. “and you let me embarrass myself all this time?”

“you were being honest,” you shrug, a smirk forming. “plus i knew you’d figure it out eventually.”

he huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “may ideya ka ba kung ano ginawa mo?"

do you have any idea what you’ve done?

"mas lalong umibig sakin?"

made you fall in love with me even more?

you tease, but there’s a tenderness in your voice that softens the edge of your words.

“yes, and you really are insufferable,” he mutters with no malice. his tone is different now. softer. warmer, even.

you lean in slightly, a playful glint in your eyes. “that’s not what i heard you say before.” your fingers graze the skin of his cheek before you tenderly pinch it, giggling softly at the reaction you provoked.

in one smooth motion, he catches your hand before you can pull away and tugs you towards him, closing the distance between you in a heartbeat. you tilt your head back to meet alhaitham’s gaze.

you’ve often thought he’s the most-perfect boyfriend, undeniably handsome in every way —but there’s really just one flaw: his height.

“ugh, you’re too tall," you grumble, rubbing the back of your neck. "i’m having a neck sore just looking at you."

he quirks an eyebrow at your sudden words. “you could use a stepstool.”

"or," you counter, "you could get on your knees and save me the trouble.”

he slowly lets out a breath, his lips curling ever so slightly.

“'akida, 'antaziri hataa 'ashtari alkhatama.”

sure, just wait till i buy the ring.

"wh—"

he crosses his arms, "what’s wrong? isn’t that what people expect when someone gets on their knees?"

you roll your eyes, half-smiling. "fine, then i’ll eagerly wait for that day.”

his gaze softens as his hand reaches up, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face; his eyes drop to your lips for a moment, and you know what’s coming even before he speaks.

this fic was not sponsored by duolingo, but with the help of my beloved friends!! wouldn't have been possible w/o em please give them a round of applause xx

vietnamese — @https-sourlimes

tagalog / filipino — @vxnuslogy

arabic — @ughscara

chinese, japanese — me!

ty @mitsvriii for proofreading, love u all <3

and thank you for reading!! reblogs are appreciated ^^

pspspss check out the cool fanart / comic based on this fic here by @rei-plswork 🤍

MASTERLIST.

6K notes · View notes