#i hope this was the angst u were looking for

[its-avalon-08]

can u pls do a super cute one of lando x y/n. where lando has a breakdown after a bad race and he thinks hes untalented and y/n makes all the voices in his head go away

make them go away (ln4)

✦ pairing - lando norris x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, self-hatred, self-doubt, alot of fluff at the end, comfort, y/n is an angel

The tension in the McLaren garage was thicker than the Monaco air itself. Y/N stood shoulder to shoulder with the engineers, her eyes glued to the TV screen showing Lando in the lead. His papaya orange car, a blur against the azure background, sliced through the chicane with practiced ease.

"Norris is on fire today!" boomed the commentator's voice over the loudspeakers. "He's pulled a three-second gap on Leclerc, and it looks like he might just take the win here in Monte Carlo!"

Y/N's heart thumped a frantic rhythm against her ribs. A nervous smile stretched across her face as Lando entered the infamous tunnel section. This was always a tricky part of the track, even for seasoned drivers.

Suddenly, the image on the screen flickered. A staticky burst filled the air, then a sickening screech of metal on asphalt. Y/N's breath hitched in her throat. On the screen, Lando's car was a crumpled mess, careening off the barrier and coming to a halt against the wall.

The garage erupted in a cacophony of shouts and gasps. Y/N felt the blood drain from her face. The commentators' voices, once booming with excitement, were now laced with concern.

"Oh dear, that's a nasty crash for Lando Norris! We're getting reports that he's unharmed, but the car is definitely out. A heartbreaking end to what was looking like a dominant race for the young Brit."

The radio crackled to life, Lando's voice a raw mix of anger and frustration. "This is fucking bullshit! What the fuck happened?! The fucking car gave away. What the fuck was that?!" Static filled the air for a moment, then Lando's voice returned, even angrier. "Come on, guys, I could've won that!"

The radio fell silent, but the tension in the garage remained. A few minutes later, Lando emerged from the cockpit, his helmet still on. He stalked towards Y/N, a dark cloud hanging over his face. He pulled her into a brief, almost desperate hug, his body taut with suppressed emotion.

"I'm okay," he muttered into her hair, his voice barely a whisper.

Y/N squeezed him back, her heart aching for him. She knew the frustration, the disappointment gnawing at him. Before she could say anything, Lando pulled away and stormed off towards the back of the garage, his shoulders slumped in defeat. Y/N watched him go, a silent plea on her lips – a plea for him to let go of the anger, to allow the disappointment to wash over him, and know that she was there, by his side, every step of the way.

lando's internal monologue

Helmet off, the world swam in and out of focus through a haze of tears and anger. My gloves clawed at the damp air, a silent scream trapped in my throat. It was right there. The damn win. Every fiber of my being knew it, felt it on the edge of my fingertips. Then, nothing. Just the sickening crunch of metal, the world twisting upside down, and the taste of bitter, metallic defeat.

I slumped against the stack of tires, the sting of failure a physical weight pressing down on me. It's always the same story, isn't it? Get my hopes up, let everyone believe, then throw it all away in a stupid mistake. Maybe it's not a mistake. Maybe it's the truth finally rearing its ugly head.

I'm not good enough.

Everyone talks about talent, about potential. But what if it's all a lie? What if I'm just a fraud, a pretender who lucked his way into this seat? Maybe I fooled everyone – the team, the fans, even myself. Now the luck's run out, and I'm left with nothing but the wreckage of my own ambition.

Look at me. Curled up in a corner like a beaten dog, tears staining my cheeks like a child. This isn't the Lando Norris they see on the podium, the one spraying champagne and basking in the glory. This is the real me, the one who crumbles under pressure, who cracks when the going gets tough.

What a joke.

Every corner, every gear shift, haunted by a thousand doubts. Was I too aggressive? Did I brake too late? The questions swarm in my head, each one a fresh jab of self-criticism. Maybe Ricciardo was right all along. Maybe I don't belong here, in this high-octane world of champions and legends.

The pressure… it's a suffocating weight on my chest. The weight of expectation, of living up to a name that seems to grow bigger with every race. Every win feels like a borrowed time, every good result a fluke waiting to be exposed.

I don't deserve this seat. Don't deserve the team, the sponsors, the fans who roar my name. They deserve a champion, someone who can deliver, who can bring home the trophy. Not a broken mess like me, drowning in a sea of self-doubt.

But what now? How do I pick up the pieces from this shattered dream? How do I face everyone again, knowing I let them down? The future stretches before me, a bleak and uncertain road. Maybe it's time to step aside, to let someone with real talent take the wheel. Maybe that's the only way to silence the voice that keeps whispering – you're not good enough, Lando. You never were.

Y/N followed Lando with a worried frown, her heart twisting with every heavy step he took. He disappeared into a secluded corner of the garage, his back slamming against a stack of tires. A muffled sob escaped him, quickly followed by another, then another. Y/N didn't hesitate. She pushed past a crate and knelt beside him, her hand hovering tentatively over his shoulder.

"Lando," she called softly, her voice barely a whisper above the murmurs of the debriefing team.

He flinched at the sound, his entire body shaking. He ripped off his helmet, revealing tear-streaked cheeks and eyes filled with a raw, painful vulnerability.

"I should've won," he choked out, his voice thick with emotion. "It was right there, Y/N. I had it, and I messed up. Everything. Every stupid corner, every gear shift…" His voice trailed off, replaced by a ragged breath.

Y/N cupped his face in her hands, her touch gentle but firm. "Hey," she said, her voice laced with an unwavering strength. "Look at me."

Lando met her gaze, his eyes filled with self-loathing. "I'm not good enough, am I? I keep letting everyone down. The team, the fans… you."

"No!" Y/N's voice rose, cutting through his self-deprecating spiral. "Don't you dare say that. This doesn't define you, Lando. One race, one mistake, doesn't erase all the talent, all the hard work you've put in."

He scoffed, a humorless sound. "Talent? Maybe I was just lucky all along. A fluke. Now the luck's run out, and I'm left with nothing."

"Stop it!" Y/N's voice trembled with a mixture of anger and love. "Those voices in your head, they're lying. You hear me? Lying! You are talented, Lando Norris. One of the most talented drivers on the grid. This doesn't change that."

He leaned into her touch, a flicker of doubt battling with the storm of negativity in his eyes. Y/N continued, her voice a soothing balm against his self-destruction.

"Everyone makes mistakes, Lando. Even the best. But you, you get back up. You learn from it, come back stronger. That's who you are. That's the Lando I know and love."

A tear escaped his eye, tracing a warm path down his cheek. He blinked it away, a flicker of something akin to hope replacing the despair. He leaned his forehead against hers, seeking solace in her unwavering belief.

"I don't know what I'd do without you," he mumbled, his voice thick with emotion.

Y/N wrapped her arms around him, holding him close. "You wouldn't have to," she whispered. "We're in this together, every win, every crash, every doubt. We face them together, okay?"

He nodded, a shaky breath escaping his lips. In the dimly lit corner of the garage, surrounded by the wreckage of his dream race, Y/N became his anchor, her love the only voice that could silence the storm raging inside him. The road ahead might be filled with uncertainty, but with her by his side, Lando knew he could weather any storm.

[000-pawz]

solace (m.jh) ˚ · .

myung jaehyun x fem!reader, smut (mdni!!!), very soft, did i mention this is soft, slight angst, jaehyun is exhausted :(, (emotional) hurt/comfort (?)

warnings: sub!jaehyun, softdom!reader, slight dumbification, "puppy", handjobs, nipple play, drool, finger sucking (?)

wc: 2.6k+

a/n: i wrote this on autopilot... i love u puppy jaehyun <3 (i tried to edit it but im sleepy so i may have missed some things ^___^)

he doesn’t usually come to you like this. you knew something was wrong from the moment he asked if he could stay at your place after his schedules instead of coming over in the morning like you had discussed. and when he climbs into your bed that night, he doesn’t say a word; instead, he simply cuddles up to your side and rests his forehead on your shoulder with a sigh so heavy, his entire body melts into the sheets afterwards.

you know jaehyun’s been tired lately. you notice everything. his smile seems weaker, his eyelids are drooped, and he spends most of his time spacing out with his gaze focused on nothing and everything all at once.

you notice it all, except, you aren’t sure what you can do for him. when he got home early tonight, he barely looked you in the eyes before falling into your arms with tears brimming at his waterline, his hands shaky as he gripped the back of your sweater; as if you would crumble away and disappear if he ever let go.

“‘m so tired,” he whispered into your ear before he buried his face in your neck, his tears leaving a damp trail against your skin. you held him back even tighter, pressing a soft kiss to his own neck in return. you knew that he didn’t want you to respond. not yet, at least, so you gently shushed him instead, swaying your bodies back and forth in an effort to soothe him.

you had persuaded him to take a shower while you made him something to eat, his face pale from the lack of meals he’s been having recently. and when he emerged from the condensated bathroom, his eyes were dull and empty, any trace of their usual flicker gone. you asked him about his day and he gave you a limp smile and airy puff of laughter, shrugging as he pushed the food around on his plate.

“it was okay. i got a lot done today.” his eyes flickered up to yours, unreadable and cloudy, and you gave him a gentle smile of your own, placing your hand on top of his.

“i’m proud of you. you always work so hard. you’re amazing.” the words tumbled out of your mouth and you hoped they would stick. lately, you feel as if the praise goes straight through him, swallowed up by the abyss of his own thoughts. 

you want to pick at his brain and see what he’s thinking—what you can do to make it better—but he always brushes it off with a little “i’ll be fine. i just need to rest, that’s all.”

but when he presses his body further against yours under the sheets, his hand trailing to grasp the end of your shirt in his fist, you know it’s more than that. it's been more than that for a while.

“jaehyun,” you whisper into the dim room, only illuminated by the glow of the moon and your tiny nightlight plugged in on the opposite wall. 

he hums in response, his head tilting slightly to gaze at the side of your face. you turn your own head to face him, reaching up to brush the strands of hair out of his vision. in the dim light, he looks even more tired; and now that it’s just the two of you alone, he doesn't hide anything. his eyes are glossy, his bottom lip trembles, and the heights of his cheeks are flushed red. you want nothing more than to take all of his pain away.

“how can i help you, baby?” you ask quietly, your hand moving down to rest on his warm cheek. his eyes flutter shut at your touch, his fingers gripping tighter at the fabric of your shirt. “what can i do to make it better?”

jaehyun is quiet for a while, but you know he isn’t asleep. his breathing is too heavy and his body is too tense, so at his silence, you trail your fingers up into his hair to massage his scalp, subtly tipping his head back a bit. he lets you maneuver, his body sinking into your touch. 

“i… i don’t know,” he mumbles before his eyes open again, meeting yours in the limited light. they’re pleading, shiny, desperate. your stomach churns. “i’m so tired, but i can’t stop thinking. i don’t want to think anymore.”

you hum in acknowledgment, moving closer until your mouth is right above his. he watches your every move with a bated breath, his adams apple bobbing when you move your hand to his chin, your thumb brushing across his lower lip slowly.

“then let me do the thinking for you. would you like that?”

jaehyun makes a small sound at your words, something quiet and airy, his lips parting as your thumb continues to trail across his lips. he doesn’t respond other than his tongue peaking out to invite your finger inside, his eyes slipping shut again as his lips close around your finger. his mouth is warm and wet, the sight of his glossy lips around your digit making your skin heat up. 

he’s so pretty like this, docile and receiving, his tongue swirling around your thumb as you delicately push it further into his mouth. his hand shakes from where it’s holding onto your shirt, his grip loosening to sneak his fingers under the fabric instead. they splay out against the skin of your hip, grounding and present.

when you pull your finger out of his mouth, he whines softly, his eyes opening ever so slightly to watch what you’re doing. you give him a small smile before pushing at chest so he can roll onto his back. his shirt rides up a little at the motion, exposing his soft belly and faint happy trail, yet his eyes remain completely fixated on you.

“i asked you a question, puppy…” you start slowly as you straddle his waist. “do you need me to think for you? is puppy done using his brain?”

something warm fills your chest when jaehyun’s hips involuntarily jolt at your words, bouncing you a little in his lap. he looks completely ruined already and you haven’t even touched him yet. his chest rises and falls quickly, his bottom lip coated in a layer of drool. he looks so enticing, you can’t resist the urge to lean down and capture his lips in a kiss before he can even speak.

he moans into your mouth when your tongue swipes across his and his hands shoot up to grip at your thighs that cage him against the bed. it’s pathetic, the way he pants as you drag your teeth across his lip, your hands resting over his chest to steady yourself. and when you break away, he chases after you like he’s been deprived of your taste for centuries.

“answer me,” you mumble, and that’s when jaehyun finally nods through his foggy mind, his hair bouncing with the movement.

“yeah. yes, please, don’t wanna think, please,” he whimpers, his nails digging into your skin. he's incredibly hard beneath you, twitching through his thin pants. with mercy, you place one final kiss to his lips before sitting back up. 

your fingers hook underneath the hem of his shirt, slowly dragging it up until his hard nipples are exposed to the cold bedroom air. you bring a hand down to circle one with your pointer finger and jaehyun’s entire body twitches at the stimulation, his cock fighting against the restraint of his underwear in interest. that’s when you press down even harder before flicking the bud, watching the way blood rushes to his chest the more you play with him. 

you do the same to his other nipple simultaneously and it doesn’t take long for jaehyun to be reduced to a squirming, whining mess, his head tipped back against the pillows. you lean down to lick at one of his nipples before blowing cold air on it, a soft ‘ah’ escaping his lips at the action. 

he’s trembling already, your fingernails lightly dragging down the expanse of his abdomen until you reach the waistband of his pants. he’s watching you again, his eyelids hooded and heavy, his lips parted as he breathes heavily, bombarded with anticipation. a piece of art.

you pull his waistband and underwear down in one swift move, his leaking cock slapping against his skin with the motion. he’s so wet and so thick, his tip leaving a dripping trail of precum against his lower stomach, shiny and throbbing. it's cute how his cock squirms as soon as it touches air, his flushed tip spurting weak droplets when you gently trail your finger down the vein on the underside of his dick. 

“oh baby, your cock is so big. sucks that you don’t know how to use it, hm?” you speak sweetly, picking up his cock with your thumb and pointer finger before letting it drop back down. jaehyun’s hips buck at the impact, whining quietly as he grips your thighs even harder. 

“dunno how…” he mumbles, tears brimming his glossy eyes. he tries to buck his hips up again, but you seat yourself further on him, holding him down. you glide your fingers through his precum before spreading it over his head curiously. his breath hitches at the feeling, his cock jumping ever so slightly, but it’s too heavy to off of his stomach all the way, twitching pathetically. 

“that’s okay. i’ll help you cum, okay?” your voice is soft as you lean in to his ear, kissing right below it before trailing your lips to his cheek, placing a tiny kiss there too. “doing so well for me, puppy. you’re always so good for me, aren’t you?”

“good… ‘m good…” he repeats mindlessly, his voice sounding far off and light. you smile a little, tapping his cheek right over the kiss you just left against his skin.

“open up.”

he parts his lips automatically and you bring two of your wet fingers up to his mouth so he can taste himself. his eyes slip shut when you press down on his tongue, his moans quiet and muffled. one of his hands leaves your thigh to grab onto your wrist, his tongue desperately swirling around your fingers, trying to push them further into his mouth. drool escapes the corners of his mouth when he closes his lips round your digits, his cock twitching in between your bodies. 

“you like your mouth being stuffed, hm?” you mutter as you slip another finger into his mouth, slightly in awe as he meets your eyes with a small nod, practically gagging around your fingers. you're sure you’ve soaked through your panties by now, the sight in front of you gathering butterflies in your stomach. 

you finally bring your other hand down to his neglected cock, wrapping your fingers around the base. they can barely circle all the way around; he’s hot and heavy in your palm, his pre dripping onto your fingers like a faucet. 

he’s already a moaning mess when you squeeze his dick as you stroke him slowly, the vibrations of the sound shooting up your arm. his hair falls into his eyes, but he never breaks eye contact, his gaze spacey and yet full of so much devotion, it goes straight to your core. his chest is red, the flush shooting up his neck and face, the tip of his nose blushed and his eyelashes clumped together with tears. 

you keep your fingers in his mouth as you pump his cock, running your knuckles over his head slowly. he tries to fuck himself up into your fist, but eventually gives up, succumbing to whatever you decide to give him. he’s completely at your mercy, his thumb absentmindedly stroking the inside of your wrist as he continues to hold onto your arm, his other hand leaving fingernail indents on the soft skin of your thigh. 

you can tell he’ll cum fast; he’s usually sensitive on nights like these, pent up from all the stress he accumulates during the day. you can’t help but to coo at the sight of his eyes squeezing shut, trying his best to hold out for you. but tonight is about him. it’s all for him.

“want you to cum for me, puppy. can you do that? can you make a mess for me?”

jaehyun moans loudly at that, his back slightly arching off of the bed when you speed up the pace, wet sounds echoing off the walls, his dick slippery and bright red at the tip. you take your fingers out of his mouth to cup the side of his face, gazing down at him with so much adoration, you think you could burst from it all. he’s gorgeous, taking it all as his body writhes against the sheets, his cock begging for a release.

“close…,” he gasps, placing his hand on top of yours before burying his face in your palm, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to your skin. “can i cum? please, please, i’ll make a mess for you… puppy will…”

you smile down at him, circling your palm against the tip of his cock in a way that makes him literally sob, tears rolling his cheeks at the action. his body racks with shivers as his hips messily thrust up into your hand. you mentally savor the image before giving him mercy, brushing your thumb over his cheek soothingly.

“you can cum, puppy.”

as soon as you utter those words, jaehyun breaks, his entire body tensing up as he reaches his high. he’s mumbling all kinds of words, whining and whimpering as streams of cum paint his stomach and chest, thick and white as it rolls down his body. 

“love you, love you, love you so much,” he rambles, trembling as his cock continues to spurt tiny bits of cum until it goes limp, twitching against his stomach, worn and wrung out. 

when you pull your hand away from his cock, he’s still crying into your palm, gasping and clutching onto your wrist tightly. you gently shush him as you lean in to kiss the tears away from his cheeks. you don’t even care that your clothes and sheets are now covered in cum. he’s completely worked up, his eyes squeezed shut as he quietly sobs. 

“oh, jaehyunnie,” you coo, trying your best to brush his tears away. “i’m right here, baby. it's okay. let it all out.”

you lean down to hug him, wrapping your arms around him, chest to chest. you feel his rapid heartbeat through your shirt, his body still slightly shaking and twitching with aftershocks of his orgasm. 

“i love you. i love you,” he hiccups through his tears, burying his face in your neck as he wraps his arms around your waist. you smile, squeezing him even tighter.

“i love you. i’m so proud of you,” you say, reaching up to pet his hair. 

you hold him until his tears finally simmer down into sniffles, pulling back to cup his face. his eyes are red and watery, his cheeks stained with salty tears, but to you, he's the most gorgeous person you’ve ever laid eyes on.

“i love you,” you repeat—just to make sure it really sticks this time—before pressing a long kiss to his lips. he melts into you at that, a lopsided smile on his face when you break apart. 

“thank you. for everything,” he whispers. you shake your head with a smile of your own, kissing the tip of his nose.

“thank you for coming to me. i’m always here. i’ll always be here.”

you both bask in silence for a bit, taking in the quiet stillness. and then, after a while, jaehyun taps the small of your back, searching for your eyes in the limited lighting of the room.

“can i eat you out now…? please?”

reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated! thank u...<3 x

masterlist

[egcdeath]

making a racket

pairing: patrick zweig x reader

warnings: social media au, dates aren’t really relevant but are there for formatting purposes, mentions of a sex tape but nothing explicit, drama, no use of y/n, usernames are random, grammar isn’t the best because it’s social media, angst, fluff, more drama, twitter, gossip websites, reddit, text messages, emails, deuxmoi, so many headlines.

summary: as a celebrity, you often can’t control the narrative. you find that out the hard way when you enter a relationship with an infamous retired tennis player.

word count: 5k

author’s note: this fic was inspired by this request and was so fun to write! also, i apologize in advance if i somehow tagged you because of your username!!!

key: DM = deuxmoi (a celebrity gossip account on instagram)

CDAN = crazy days and nights (a website with blind items)

blind items = basically a riddle for celebrity gossip

EGOT = Emmy, Grammy, Oscar, Tony Awards

🎾 future EGOT winner updates - @popculturelvr9

UPDATE: today thee tennis princess herself followed retired tennis player patrick zweig. he has not yet followed her back.

[alt text: screenshot of mother following patrick zweig on instagram]

6:07 PM 8/12/22 From Earth

cleo - @filmsn0b

@popculturelvr9 could it be for that new biopic abt the tennis player?

6:08 PM 8/12/22 From Earth

🎾 future EGOT winner updates  - @popculturelvr9

@filmsn0b god i hope so. it’s about time she brought home an oscar. 

6:08 PM 8/12/22 From Earth

🎬🎾 - @lalalanding

@popculturelvr9 @filmsn0b it’s not a biopic fyi but that makes sense. they just started production a few days ago so he’s prob helping her learn how to play

6:10 PM 8/12/22 From Earth

🎾 future EGOT winner updates - @popculturelvr9 

@lalalanding @filmsn0b like i said….. the Oscars are not ready for her. 

6:10 PM 8/12/22 From Earth

——

tara 🦋🐬 - @profhater

GUYS you will never guess who i just met

10:30 PM 8/22/22 From Earth

🎬🎾 - @lalalanding

@profhater who?

10:32 PM 8/22/22 From Earth

tara 🦋🐬 - @profhater

see for yourself

[alt text: me with the queen herself AHHHH]

10:32 PM 8/22/22 From Earth

🎬🎾 - @lalalanding

@profhater @popculturelvr9 LOOK

10:34 PM 8/22/22 From Earth

🎾 future EGOT winner updates - @popculturelvr9 

@lalalanding @profhater OMG

10:42 PM 8/22/22 From Earth

🎾 future EGOT winner updates - @popculturelvr9 

@lalalanding @profhater what did she say to you?

10:42 PM 8/22/22 From Earth

tara 🦋🐬 - @profhater

@popculturelvr9 @lalalanding i told her i loved her work then made some random guy she was with take the picture lol 

10:55 PM 8/22/22 From Earth

🎾 future EGOT winner updates - @popculturelvr9 

@profhater @lalalanding ugh i wish i was you

10:42 PM 8/22/22 From Earth

----

@deuxmoi - 9/13/22

SPOTTED

let’s see what your favorite celebs have been up to since last week

hi! i served (no pun intended) that former tennis player patrick zweig and that one actress from that one dramedy show that swept the award circuit last year at the country club i work at this weekend. they were super nice and tipped very generously! idk if they’re dating but they were definitely wearing matching outfits. 

not the first time we’ve 

heard she’s a good tipper

—-

@deuxmoi - 9/25/22

Sent via form submission from Deuxmoi

Pseudonyms, please: COURTING her

Email: balls@aol.com 

Subject: award darling and no one’s darling

Message: i work on the set of the production for a very highly anticipated movie for next summer and a leading actress and her “personal trainer” have been getting awfully cozy. we’ve caught him leaving her trailer a number of times. he definitely doesn’t fit her sweet girl persona. 

——

Blind Item #13 

This newly critically acclaimed TV actress has had her head in the clouds lately. After various reports of spotting her making quite a Racket with a consulting crew member, her publicist has been scrambling to put out fires and advising her to move on, but she insists on seeing him. 

Someone call HR.

October 3, 2022

——

r/Fauxmoi

u/aintnodiva

I know it’s not from DM but does anyone know who this might be?

[alt text: Screenshot of Oct. 3, 2022’s Blind Item #13 from CDAN]

⬆3 ⬇

u/sinkingships212

Racket makes me think of tennis, tennis makes me think of that one upcoming movie, so I’m gonna guess Patrick Zweig is involved somehow. 

⬆15 ⬇

u/aintnodiva

No wayyy is he with the lead actress then?

⬆5 ⬇

u/sinkingships212

I doubt it. Their vibes seem totally mismatched lmao. Besides, she’s in too good of a place in her career to be with a guy whose dick pics are one Google search away.

⬆8 ⬇

u/teaspilllllt

did anyone else see that submission to DM a few weeks ago about the production for that movie? it basically said the same thing

⬆3 ⬇

u/sinkingships212

I forgot about that. It’s probably just speculation then.

⬆6 ⬇

——

🎾 future EGOT winner updates - @popculturelvr9

UPDATE: it looks like the tennis movie has wrapped! this is queen leaving the set today

[alt text: paparazzi picture of a beautiful gorgeous radiant woman getting into her ride tonight]

9:45 PM 10/15/22 From Earth

🌸💐🌺 - @floraflorals

@popculturelvr she looks so sad omg who hurt her 😭

9:46 PM 10/15/22 From Earth

🎾 future EGOT winner updates - @popculturelvr9

@floraflorals idk who did but i need to fight them

9:47 PM 10/15/22 From Earth

🎾🎬 - @lalalanding

@popculturelvr9 @floraflorals girl probably patrick zweig

9:47 PM 10/15/22 From Earth

🌸💐🌺 - @floraflorals

@lalalanding ew

9:51 PM 10/15/22 From Earth

🎾 future EGOT winner updates - @popculturelvr9

@floraflorals @lalalanding she’s probably just sad to be wrapping honestly 

9:52 PM 10/15/22 From Earth

🎾🎬 - @lalalanding

@popculturelvr9 @floraflorals i still blame That Man

9:53 PM 10/15/22 From Earth

----

Blind Item #7

This highly anticipated movie featuring a highly in-demand prestige actress had a particular crew consultant stay far longer than what was necessary. From consultant, to trainer, to fuckbuddy? With production wrapping, these coworkers are not so sure where they stand. 

Someone should’ve intervened months ago. 

November 16, 2022

—--

Blind Item #4

The holidays are coming around, and this couple who are more like a double still don’t know where they stand. Maybe asking someone allergic to commitment to come to Thanksgiving was a mistake. 

November 24, 2022

—-

Instagram

@finstalice: holiday photodump!

1 hour ago

@spammmacy: i’m dead why was that tennis guy at your thanksgiving 💀

45 minutes ago

@finstalice: @spammmacy lololol a friend brought him over for friendsgiving

40 minutes ago

@spammmacy: did he do any tennis tricks for yall

37 minutes ago

@finstalice: @spammmacy ik ur joking but after a few drinks he literally did. u should’ve seen the girl who brought him 😭 she was so embarrassed but went right back to smooching him after

33 minutes ago

@spammmacy: how did she not get the ick

31 minutes ago

@finstalice: @spammmacy love is a mysterious thing

22 minutes ago

——

The Independent 

December 13, 2022

Former tennis star Patrick Zweig and up-and-coming actress cozy up at intimate dinner

On Friday, the pair grabbed Italian at a notoriously hard-to-get-into restaurant. The couple shared dishes and drinks and seemed to be enjoying each other’s company. 

Zweig, 29, recently retired after a season that ended in injury. His retirement came after a series of scandals, most notably being a risqué leak of his camera roll. 

At 29 herself, she is coming off the heels of a very busy award season. Taking home her first Best Actress Emmy and BAFTA awards, she also recently received her second ensemble cast award.

The two seem to be an interesting pair, having finished wrapping a movie they were both working on in late October. The unlikely friendship comes on the heels of murmurs about a potential relationship.

“They’ve been enjoying their newfound friendship. It's rare for her to find someone with similar life experiences that she can genuinely bond with,” an insider told us. 

We have to wonder what they discussed over dinner. 

——

Buzzfeed

January 1, 2023

Cheers to the New Year! 5 Celebrity NYE Parties You Wish You Attended. 

1.Forget Kim Kardashian—If you weren’t at this rising star’s NYE party, you weren’t living!

Attendees included fellow co-stars from her critically acclaimed show, cast and crew from her recently wrapped tennis-themed film, and Patrick Zweig, who she’s been spotted with a number of times. Are they our newest OTP? Vote for your favorite speculated couple in this poll here. 

——

Daily Mail

January 14, 2023

Method Acting? Two-time Emmy winner laughs with friends at Australian Open.

The television star, who hasn’t shown interest in the sport prior to her casting in her upcoming film, appeared to be relaxed and laid back with friends. Former tennis professional and new tennis consultant, Patrick Zweig, appeared to explain the ins and outs to her. The pair seemed particularly close as they shared concessions and laughter. 

Her team declined to comment. 

——

🎾 future EGOT winner updates - @popculturelvr9

UPDATE: mother was spotted looking absolutely splendiferous at the Australian Open today. 

[alt text: queen with some of her friends and that tennis guy]

10:45 AM 1/14/23 From Earth

🎾🎬 - @lalalanding

@popculturelvr9 awww she’s so cute

10:47 AM 1/14/23 From Earth

sage ❄️ - @sagingthetl

@lalalanding @popculturelvr9 and of course he’s just there

10:48 AM 1/14/23 From Earth

💐 - @zweignatorrr

@sagingthetl @lalalanding @popculturelvr9 can we please just be honest with ourselves and acknowledge that they’re together lol

10:51 AM 1/14/23 From Earth

sage ❄️ - @sagingthetl

@zweignatorrr @lalalanding @popculturelvr9 i mean yeah obviously they are but i don’t like him

10:55 AM 1/14/23 From Earth

🎾 future EGOT winner updates - @popculturelvr9

@sagingthetl fair but you have to admit they’re a cute couple 

10:55 AM 1/14/23 From Earth

sage ❄️ - @sagingthetl

@popculturelvr9 no i don’t

10:56 AM 1/14/23 From Earth

——

r/TennisGossip

u/makearacquet

AITA for shipping Patrick Zweig and that actress???

I just saw a very convincing timeline on Tumblr. They’ve been distracting me at the Open. Kinda cute if they’re actually dating. Really weird if they’re just friends.

⬆-45 ⬇

u/backhandedd

YTA for not posting about the actual Aus Open during the Aus Open.

⬆48 ⬇

——

TMZ EXCLUSIVE: PATRICK ZWEIG AND MYSTERY GIRL SPOTTED GETTING FRISKY IN ALLEYWAY

January 15, 2023

Looks like today's Australian Open winners weren’t the only ones who got lucky. 

TMZ obtained an exclusive photo of retired tennis player Patrick Zweig getting hot and bothered in Australia. Though we haven’t identified his mystery woman, there’s speculation around the woman being former fling and fellow retired player Tashi Duncan, who was also spotted at the Open, or a new coworker, who Zweig was spotted sitting next to yesterday.

Zweig’s team declined to comment. 

—-

Professional Mess Cleaner: Hello?

Professional Mess Maker: hi what’s up??

Professional Mess Cleaner: Don’t even what’s up me right now.

Professional Mess Cleaner: Are you serious?

Professional Mess Maker: yes lol what’s wrong

Professional Mess Cleaner: tmz.com/patrick-zweig-and-mystery-girl-spotted-getting-frisky-in-alleyway/02948289339

Professional Mess Cleaner: THIS IS WHAT’S WRONG!!!!!

Professional Mess Maker: shittttt

Professional Mess Cleaner: Is that all you have to say for yourself!!!??? 

Professional Mess Cleaner: I hope for both of our sakes that your stupid boyfriend is cheating on you.

Professional Mess Maker: rude

Professional Mess Cleaner: I’m going to fistfight you.

Professional Mess Cleaner: You’re lucky none of these pictures show your face because it definitely shows his hand up your skirt. 

Professional Mess Cleaner: You couldn’t wait a few hours to go somewhere private?????

Professional Mess Maker: i told him we should wait.

Professional Mess Cleaner: TELL HIM HARDER NEXT TIME

Professional Mess Maker: sorry :,(

Professional Mess Maker: patrick says he’s sorry too

Professional Mess Cleaner: Apology not accepted. Especially not his.

Professional Mess Cleaner: What happened to being an easy client??? Are you getting your rebellious phase now??? Are you gonna be doing drugs on the front page of TMZ next week???

Professional Mess Maker: obviously not???? 

Professional Mess Cleaner: This week then??

Professional Mess Maker: i am not on drugs!!!!!

Professional Mess Cleaner: I wouldn’t know by the way you’ve been acting lately!!!

Professional Mess Maker: you can’t even tell who he’s making out with pls unclench

Professional Mess Cleaner: Please share who else it would be. So someone else’s publicist can deal with it. 

Professional Mess Cleaner: And if you tell me to unclench again I will quit right this minute and let you deal with this yourself. 

Professional Mess Maker: the article does mention tashi duncan by name but not me

Professional Mess Maker: but you’re so right i’m so sorry we will do better next time 😇

Professional Mess Cleaner: You better, or there won’t be a next time.

Professional Mess Cleaner: I’m serious.

——

🎾 future EGOT winner updates - @popculturelvr9

UNOFFICIAL UPDATE: this is definitely them making out lol

[alt text: patrick zweig making out with we know who]

10:51 AM 1/15/23 From Earth

ZWEIGNATORS - @zweignationupdates

@popculturelvr9 how romantic

10:53 AM 1/15/23 From Earth

💐 - @zweignatorrr

@popculturelvr that’s so invasive pls delete

10:58 AM 1/15/23 From Earth

—

@deuxmoi - 1/28/23

Sent via form submission from Deuxmoi

Pseudonyms, please: ace

Email: lovelovelove@aol.com 

Subject: DEUCE

Message: this athlete and actress have been giving it their all to stay away from each other. they’re both pap magnets which is a nightmare for people trying to keep their relationship secret! we’ll see if they make it to valentine’s day.

—-

@deuxmoi - 2/14/23

SPOTTED - V-DAY EDITION

let’s see what your favorite celebs have been up to since last week

i saw patrick zweig in trader joe’s buying a bunch of flowers and chocolates.

anon pls

chivalry is not dead

—-

Blind Item #9

This newly critically acclaimed actress has run into some conflict with her otherwise smooth sailing secret relationship. He’s tired of staying quiet and she’s not ready to come forward. She really believes that bringing him as her plus-one to this major award show will heal all wounds. Only time will tell.

March 13, 2023

—

Buzzfeed

March 21, 2023

Our Top 20 Best and Worst Dressed at the 2023 Oscars

Not everyone can be a winner in this prestigious award show. Not everyone can be a winner when it comes to outfits, either. 

Best

9. This beautiful gown, which was worn by the talented Emmy winner, was only made better by the help of friend Patrick Zweig, who helped fix the train a number of times on the red carpet. 

—

🎾 future EGOT winner updates - @popculturelvr9

UPDATE: THE QUEEN HAS ARRIVED AT CANNES FILM FESTIVAL

[alt text: mother looking resplendent while getting out of a car]

10:51 AM 5/15/23 From Earth

tara 🦋🐬 - @profhater

@popculturelvr9 she’s glowing!!!!!

11:00 AM 5/15/23 From Earth

🎬🎾 - @lalalanding

@popculturelvr9 i can’t wait for the first reviews of her movie

11:00 AM 5/15/23 From Earth

🎾 future EGOT winner updates - @popculturelvr9

@lalalanding they’re saying this is gonna get her the oscar and i’m not even being delusional

[alt text: a review posted on instagram that says “she’s a powerhouse in this film and is arguably the emotional core of it. her performance is subtle, but moving. her physicality and delivery is like nothing i’ve ever seen before. definitely a contender for next year’s oscars.” the post was liked by her mom, her stylist, that tennis player, and thousands of others. ]

9:05 PM 5/15/23 From Earth

💐 - @zweignatorrr

@popculturelvr awww patrick is so cute for liking! such a supportive bf 🥹

9:38 PM 5/15/23 From Earth

🎬🎾 - @lalalanding

@popculturelvr9 @zweignatorrr we don’t care about that man

9:44 PM 5/15/23 From Earth

—-

@deuxmoi - 7/19/23

Sent via form submission from Deuxmoi

Pseudonyms, please: double fault

Email: morelovelovelove@aol.com 

Subject: pen pals

Message: this athlete-actress couple whose relationship is an open secret are very sad to be parting ways. she’s going on a month long press tour and he’s staying behind. they have plans to meet up at a few locations, but she’d rather be with him than promoting her movie that’s getting SERIOUS oscar buzz.

—-

From: Gone Fishing (gonephishing@iclouud.org)             June 22

To: FishersPrice (fishersprice101@iclouud.org)

CC: BaitnSwitch (baitnswitch@iclouud.org) 

Subject: How many strokes?

Price & Bait, 

Remember how we logged into that tennis guy Patrick Zweig’s iCloud? More specifically, how he wasn’t able to fully kick us out??

You’d never guess what we just found.

Regards,

Fishy

From: FishersPrice (fishersprice101@iclouud.org)         June 22

To: GoneFishing (gonephishing@iclouud.org), BaitnSwitch (baitnswitch@iclouud.org) 

Subject: RE: How many strokes?

Please share.

Thanks,

Price

From: Gone Fishing (gonephishing@iclouud.org)               June 22

To: FishersPrice (fishersprice101@iclouud.org), BaitnSwitch (baitnswitch@iclouud.org) 

Subject: RE: How many strokes?

📎 TAPE

See attached. 

Regards,

Fishy

From: FishersPrice (fishersprice101@iclouud.org)           June 22

To: GoneFishing (gonephishing@iclouud.org), BaitnSwitch (baitnswitch@iclouud.org) 

Subject: RE: How many strokes?

Fuck. We’re gonna be millionaires. 

Thanks,

Price

——

TMZ

June 23, 2023

TMZ EXCLUSIVE: PATRICK ZWEIG SEX TAPE LEAKED… AGAIN!

Someone hasn’t learned his lesson.

The lengthy video also features a two-time Emmy award winning actress, although it didn’t seem like she was doing much acting (unless she’s better than we thought.)

The pair briefly talk and giggle before getting straight to business. The video is as sweet as it is hot— and though they’ve insisted they’re just friends, their breathy love confessions say otherwise. 

Both parties declined to comment. 

—--

ZWEIGNATORS - @zweignationupdates

was not expecting to see patrick’s racket on my tl first thing in the morning but ok. good morning i guess. 

9:34 AM 6/23/23 From Earth

nasty girl - @matchmyfreqk

@zweignationupdates sorry but like…... link 

9:36 AM 6/23/23 From Earth

ZWEIGNATORS - @zweignationupdates

@matchmyfreqk check dms

9:40 AM 6/23/23 From Earth

nasty girl - @matchmyfreqk

@zweignationupdates why was that kinda beautiful 

10:25 AM 6/23/23 From Earth

ZWEIGNATORS - @zweignationupdates

@matchmyfreqk that’s what i said! like the hand holding?? the love yous?? when he said he was gonna miss her?? i didn’t realize it was like that for them

10:36 AM 6/23/23 From Earth

—-

CLOSED - @popculturelvr9

not an update but please don’t send us or ask us to talk about the tape. it’s a gross violation of privacy and it is honestly none of our business. 

11:23 AM 6/23/23 From Earth

CLOSED - @popculturelvr9

@popculturelvr9 if you bring it up you will be blocked btw! 

11:23 AM 6/23/23 From Earth

🎾🎬 - @lalalanded

@popculturelvr9 i swear it’s my whole timeline rn. i feel so bad for her

11:26 AM 6/23/23 From Earth

CLOSED -  @popculturelvr9

@lalalanded for it to happen right before the press tour is so bad. sending so many good vibes her way

11:26 AM 6/23/23 From Earth

🎾🎬 - @lalalanded

@popculturelvr9 i’m sure it’ll blow over soon

11:28 AM 6/23/23 From Earth

—-

r/TennisGossip

🔴HOT TOPICS

The tape. Let’s talk about it.

u/sinkingships

Is it really any of our business? Stuff like this happens all the time and as far as sex scandals go this one’s quite tame

⬆-2 ⬇

u/Tennisfan233445

Upvote if that was one of the hottest things you’ve ever watched. Downvote if you’re a liar. 

⬆564⬇

u/NothingbuttNet

if this showbiz thing doesn’t work out i think they have a solid backup plan 👀

⬆339⬇

——

Your Fav Femininity Coach - @putmeincoach

This tape is a perfect example of why I always tell my clients not to mess with men who are above them. Super promising career down the drain over some guy.

12:02 PM 6/24/23 From Earth

User 16363627919 - @user16363627919

@putmeincoach Obviously you don’t know what you’re talking about Patrick Zweig is a fucking tennis legend and that girl is nothing.

12:34 PM 6/24/23 From Earth

🎾🎬 - @lalalanded

@putmeincoach @user16363627919 NOTHING???? how many prestigious awards do YOU have, User 16363627919?? i don’t think they give awards out for being a misogynistic loser

12:44 PM 6/24/23 From Earth

🎾🎬 - @lalalanded

@putmeincoach this is such a dramatic take lol everyone’s gonna forget about this in a week when something else happens 

12:44 PM 6/24/23 From Earth

Your Fav Femininity Coach - @putmeincoach

@lalalanded We’ll have to see. Still, you shouldn’t settle for someone who makes you act out of character like this

1:08 PM 6/24/23 From Earth

🎾🎬 - @lalalanded

@putmeincoach do you know her personally? not everything is so black and white and obviously they both consented and thought this would be private. 

1:41 PM 6/24/23 From Earth

—-

@deuxmoi - 6/25/23

Sent via form submission from Deuxmoi

Pseudonyms, please: breakup

Email: goodbyelove@aol.com

Subject: Cumming and Going 

Message: Apparently, this former tennis star and actress are going their separate ways after an intimate video leaked. She’s worried about the damage it might do to her career and her ability to be taken seriously. He just wants her to be happy. Her publicist has been letting interviewers know that there will be no questions answered about the tape, but this will not be a fun press tour for her.

——

Blind Item #2

The damage has already been done for this athlete-actress pair. Still, she insists on suffering through a break up on top of this scandal. 

June 28, 2023

——

Blind Item #8

This retired athlete has received countless offers from the adult film industry in the last week. This scandal is somehow even more humiliating than his last five. He says he doesn’t care, but he does. A lot. 

June 28, 2023

——

Blind Item #11

She’s losing brand deals and partnerships left and right. If she makes it through the next week alive, let alone through her press tour, it’ll be a major miracle. 

June 28, 2023

——

DailyMail

June 30, 2023

Full of Regret: Actress spotted leaving her apartment with red-rimmed eyes

Just days after a scandalous tape was leaked, we’re receiving our first sign of life from the actress. 

According to insider DoorDash drivers, she has been a very frequent customer as of late, ordering comfort food and pints of ice cream and leaving very generous tips. 

She seemed to be waiting for the storm to blow over before reentering the public, but with her and her partner’s name trending on Twitter for the past several days, it seems unlikely that it’ll happen any time soon. 

——

Professional Mess Cleaner: Just checking in. How are you feeling today?

Professional Mess Maker: even worse than yesterday

Professional Mess Maker: i want to say something but i don’t know what

Professional Mess Cleaner: The gossip cycle has already started to move on, but if you really want to say something, I can draft up a response. 

Professional Mess Cleaner: The ball’s in your court ❤️

Professional Mess Maker: no more mention of balls please 

Professional Mess Cleaner: Sorry. Got it.

Professional Mess Maker: maybe you can just say something about not letting my own decisions impact the cast and crew who worked really hard to make the film happen

Professional Mess Maker: speaking of which, have you heard from patrick?

Professional Mess Cleaner: Do you want the truth or to protect your peace?

Professional Mess Maker: things can’t get any worse just give it to me straight 

Professional Mess Cleaner: I hear from him every few hours. He wants to know how you’re feeling. 

Professional Mess Cleaner: And if you’ll take him back. 

Professional Mess Maker: ugh

Professional Mess Cleaner: You know you don’t have to be separated if you don’t want to. The cat’s already out of the bag. A united front might be better for this kind of thing anyway. 

Professional Mess Cleaner: I know how much you care about him. You don’t have to go through this alone.

Professional Mess Maker: i’m not alone though <3

Professional Mess Cleaner: You know that isn’t what I mean.

Professional Mess Cleaner: He loves you. You should reach out to him.

Professional Mess Maker: i will

Professional Mess Maker: eventually 

——

Blind Item #6

Rumor has it that this pair, who were previously attached at the hip, haven’t said more than a few words to each other in months. That doesn’t mean the feelings stopped being there. 

September 15, 2023

——

DailyMail

September 27, 2023

Tension at the world premiere?

This weekend marked the world premiere of a film that has been generating a lot of Oscar buzz. The first reviews have been mostly positive, despite the very large elephant in the room.

The average onlooker couldn’t help but notice the physical distance between Zweig and the principal actress in the film during the premiere. Despite both being there, neither were photographed together throughout the entire event. The distance feels particularly charged, considering the pair made a movie of their own not too long ago. 

——

DailyMail

October 10, 2023

PATRICK’S NEW DOUBLES PARTNER?

Late this Thursday, Patrick Zweig was spotted leaving an intimate dinner with a female friend. This is the first time he’s been spotted since the leak of his now notorious sex tape. We would be remiss if we didn’t mention that the woman he was spotted having a romantic dinner with was not the same woman from the tape.

At least she knows what she’s in for.

——

DailyMail

October 12, 2023

Actress spotted on a date with ex-boyfriend

On Wednesday, the pair were seen holding hands as they walked through the park. 

She has not been spotted with her ex-boyfriend, who she starred in her prestige dramedy television with, for almost two years. Are these two getting back together? Or simply making amends?

——

@deuxmoi - 10/15/23

Sent via form submission from Deuxmoi

Pseudonyms, please: rebounder

Email: tape@aol.com 

Subject: kiss and make up already!

Message: this broken-up couple, who have been making headlines for the most innocuous things following a rather romantic scandal, very obviously miss each other. their friends know it, their coworkers know it, even their ‘rebounds’ know it. they think the other person is better off without them in their life, but that’s simply not true. 

——

@deuxmoi - 11/8/23

Sent via form submission from Deuxmoi

Pseudonyms, please: love

Email: tellingall@aol.com 

Subject: podcast

Message: i’m friends with a friend who knows the editor of a certain podcast that’s having a very highly anticipated guest do a tell-all about a scandal very soon. here are some of the things she addresses:

there’s nothing wrong with consenting adults doing consenting adult things—but you still need to be cautious

it’s nice to have some things for yourself but when you’re a public figure you don’t always get that

and finally…. she regrets how things played out in her relationship.

this should be a good episode. 

——

Blind Item #17

This DIY Filmmaker couple are FINALLY reconciling. They won’t be making any more home movies together anytime soon, but it seems like they’re picking right up where they left off. 

November 16, 2023

——

Buzzfeed 

December 5, 2023

Top 5 Dates to go on in New York City, According to our Favorite Celebs

3. The Brooklyn Botanic Garden

Following a major scandal and radio silence on the status of their relationship, these two were finally seen together in public at this garden. They both looked genuinely happy for the first time in months. If these two can make their rocky relationship work during a date like this, you can too. 

——

oscar campaign era - @popculturelvr9 

UPDATE: GUESS WHO MADE THE OSCARS SHORTLISTTTTTTTTTT

6:35 PM 12/22/23 From Earth 

oscar campaign era - @popculturelvr9 

UPDATE: the happy couple were spotted wearing matching ugly christmas sweaters today! i suspect they’re going to the annual christmas party she mentioned on Fallon. i hope they party hard and celebrate her making the shortlist!

8:21 PM 12/22/23 From Earth 

sage ❄️ - @sagingthetl

@popculturelvr9 ngl he’s growing on me!

8:25 PM 12/22/23 From Earth

oscar campaign era - @popculturelvr9 

@sagingthetl i agree!

8: PM 12/22/23 From Earth

—

Blind Item #4

This athlete-actress couple have had quite the year. It’s only fitting that he proposed to her at the end of it. Expect to see more pictures of her hiding her hand in her pocket.

January 1, 2024

—

@deuxmoi - 1/2/24

SPOTTED - NEW YEAR EDITION

let’s see what your favorite celebs have been up to since last week

I served Patrick Zweig and his actress girlfriend at the diner I work at yesterday. They both looked very hungover and I’m 97% sure I saw her wearing an engagement ring. They were very sweet and left us a really big tip. 

—

r/TennisGossip

u/makearacquet

Has anyone checked up on Patrick Zweig and his girlfriend? I haven’t heard anything about them in kinda a while 

⬆13 ⬇

u/topspinbackspin

It’s so funny you say this. I have a friend who works for the production side of one of those really big entertainment magazines who does those roundtable for actors who are in talks for receiving awards. His girlfriend was just in one, and my friend told me that he was there and super supportive the whole time. Like, bringing her coffee the way she likes it, hyping her up during the photoshoot, and everything in between. Obviously we saw the worst of them a few months back, but they’re a pretty cute couple. I also heard somewhere that they’re engaged? But I don’t know if I believe it. 

⬆36⬇

—-

oscar campaign era - @popculturelvr9 

i’m shaking in my boots for the best actress announcement.

10:45 PM 3/20/24 From Earth

🎾🎬 - @lalalanded

@popculturelvr idk i feel it in my bones she’s gonna win.

10:45 PM 3/20/24 From Earth

oscar campaign era - @popculturelvr9 

OMFG

10:55 PM 3/20/24 From Earth

🎾🎬 - @lalalanded

OH MY GOD

10:55 PM 3/20/24 From Earth

cleo - @filmsn0b

NO WAY

10:55 PM 3/20/24 From Earth

sage ❄️ - @sagingthetl

I KNEW IT LETS GO

10:55 PM 3/20/24 From Earth

tara 🦋🐬 - @profhater

IM SHAKING

10:55 PM 3/20/24 From Earth

oscar campaign era - @popculturelvr9 

SHES OFFICIALLY AN OSCAR WINNER I FANT BREATHE

10:55 PM 3/20/24 From Earth

sage ❄️ - @sagingthetl

AWWWW THE KISS THEY LOVE EACH OTHER SM

10:56 PM 3/20/24 From Earth

oscar campaign era - @popculturelvr9 

i’m sorry i literally cannot process anything rn did she just say thank you to her FIANCÉ

10:57 PM 3/20/24 From Earth

oscar campaign era - @popculturelvr9 

guys this is way too much. 2 awards left for her EGOT AND she’s engaged??2?3):7.8 i’m malfunctioning

10:58 PM 3/20/24 From Earth

oscar campaign era - @popculturelvr9 

who would’ve thought that a random instagram mutual follow would get us here. omfg. i love love. 

10:59 PM 3/20/24 From Earth

[cr4yolaas]

to be fragile — iwaizumi hajime

synopsis: to be gentle is foreign to iwaizumi hajime. you teach him through the seasons.

content: angst, bittersweet fluff. fast burn. implied childhood friends (rdr and iwa). pre-relationship, implied post-relationship at the end. timelines are probably incorrect (i haven’t read the manga in a long time). iwaizumi is probably ooc. gender neutral reader. miscommunication and pushing each other away. coworker akaashi. not proofread.

notes: this was a spur of the moment fic. the pacing is very very swift and somewhat cheesy and i kinda just blew through everything in one go, because i didn't really plan any of this out LOL. hope u enjoy :)

SPRING, 2014

Iwaizumi had always been rough around the edges.

From youth, his shoulders had been burdened with the weight of the world, a result of his overbearing desire to be reliable. It grew increasingly evident as he aged. Even more so when he faced you in the middle of the airport.

“Are you not going to say anything?”

He turned around, his luggage following suit. The crowd swayed around you.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, his gaze cast to the floor. “I just thought-”

“Hajime.”

Iwaizumi was not delicate. He was not fragile, nor gentle, nor vulnerable. But the call of his name from your lips rendered him a fool.

He watched as you approached him, your fists tight around the strap of your bag. “I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me anything.” Your footsteps came to a clean halt before him. “I’m sorry if I did something that made you uncomfortable to share this with me. But if all this — pushing me away and leaving without so much as a goodbye — is because you thought it would be better, I don’t want to hear it.”

He bit the inside of his cheek, pretending you didn’t read his intentions. His hand found its way to the hem of his shirt, a tell of his anxiety.

Another apology spilled from his tongue, this time quieter, softer. He braced himself for impact: for tears, for a harsh scolding, anything. Instead, he found himself in your embrace.

“I’m upset you didn’t say anything. But,” you paused, your grip around him tightening. “If you’re happy, I’m happy. Just text me, okay?”

Iwaizumi could only nod. He watched as you released yourself, allowing your fists to return your bag and your eyes to drift away. He waved goodbye, in silence, when you turned around and walked towards the exit. He sat with a heavy heart when your figure was no longer visible, and all he had left to do was wait at his gate.

The promise of a brighter future — one full of success, and passion, and growth — was impossible for Iwaizumi to turn away. Even if it meant casting aside his heart and leaving it in Japan to ache. Even if it meant shouldering the burden of being alone. He never wanted you to see it, in fear of you harboring distaste for him.

When he sat in the plane, Iwaizumi Hajime chewed at his cheek, once more, for he realized he had hurt you in exchange.

FALL, 2019

Against the pleas of his friends, Iwaizumi refused to celebrate his return to Japan. Instead, he found himself searching for you.

His feet were heavy against the asphalt, each second of contact solidifying the gravity of the moment. You sent him your address before he boarded the plane, but before that, there was minimal contact, save for awkward messages checking in on one another out of obligation. Regardless, the dull ache in his chest strung him to your front door.

You opened the door before he could knock.

"Hajime?" you whispered, the syllables of his name seeping from the cracks between your teeth all too easily.

He didn't know where to put his hands, didn't know how to look at you. His fingers found solace in the inseam of his hoodie pocket (which was barely hanging on). The speech he had written during his flight had slipped from his mind, leaving him silent.

You welcomed him in anyways. You had a tendency to do that — to accept him without question. Even if it felt wrong.

"Take a seat anywhere," you spoke, although your attention was elsewhere. The hum of the kettle was the only noise in the room, save for the shuffling of your slippers against the tile or the buzz of the air conditioning. A packet of green tea sat in each mug.

You sat parallel to him. As if to calm your nerves, your hands made their way around the porcelain, the heat of the tea spreading throughout your palms. Iwaizumi slouched in his seat, taking small sips from his mug to make himself look busy. To conceal his fear.

"How was it?"

His eyes darted up to yours, then to the side, then back down to his tea. "It was different. It's warmer there, and the people are louder. I met a lot of good people there, though. I think you would've liked it."

A hum reverberated in your throat. You didn't know how to convey it: your joy at his return, at the fact that you were the first person he chose to see, at him being within arm's reach.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "I shouldn't have left like that. I felt like shit afterwards." I missed you.

You smiled warmly, the upturn of your lips filling his lungs with burning hot ichor. "It's alright. I got over it, anyways. I'm just happy you're back." I missed you, too. "What do you plan on doing now?"

"I'm gonna start working with the men's national team, as their trainer. I think I'll-"

"No, I meant, do you have a place to stay? Food to eat?"

He looked away, again, before shaking his head ashamedly. You laughed at his chagrin, your chin slotting itself into your palm. "Stay with me, then."

✧.*

A week passed. Iwaizumi wedged himself back into your life, with ease, after disappearing for five years. Your routine made room for him, now — grocery shopping, for two; breakfast, for two; laundry, for two. You did your best to ensure that he was comfortable, that the guilt from years ago would wash away. And yet, despite your efforts, he was cold. Distant, almost, even though he was around you all the time.

You feared the worst. That, while away, he realized how little he enjoyed your presence. That he wouldn't contact you again once he settled back in completely. That the silly feelings you had burrowed in the underwater reservoir of your heart would resurface, only to be shut down.

His voice in the kitchen pulled you out of your thoughts. You laid on the couch in silence, the calls of your name doing little to quell your worries. "I found an apartment close to my job," he muttered, the words blending in with the stream of water from the sink. "I'll be ready to move out within a few days. I'll let you know when."

"So soon?" you responded absentmindedly.

You watched him pivot towards you, his face blank but his eyes telling. "What do you mean?"

"I feel like I've seen you for such a small amount of time, and you're already leaving. Again." You sat up and met his gaze, calculative as ever. A sigh unleashed itself from his lips, the glass in his hands meeting the countertop.

"I don't want to rely on you too much," he whispered. "I can't. I just- I need to steady myself first." He nibbled at the flesh inside his cheek when you frowned. "I'm sorry. I just don't want to force you to take care of me. You don't have to do that."

"It's not a burden, really. I'm happy to be here for you, I'm happy to even see you after so long. I don't want you to feel like you have to rush yourself into everything."

Iwaizumi shook his head softly, his decision finalized long before the conversation had begun. He escaped to his room before you could protest. His heart sung of somber tunes and a loneliness he could not describe, a result of his never-ending guilt upon leaving you time and time again. He could not help the white hot tears staining his cheeks, nor the heavy breaths escaping his throat. Calloused hands pawed away at his eyes, and once again, Iwaizumi realized he had hardened himself far too much for your liking. He was always too far, too absent. He hated it. And yet, he felt it was necessary; he felt like he would lose himself if he allowed for a moment of rest.

"Hajime?" your voice called from outside his door. "I'll help you pack, okay? Just know I'm here. I'm always here."

He loathed how vulnerable you left him. He hated the fluttering in his stomach, the airiness in his head, the warmth of his skin from every word you spoke. It was a foreign taste on his tongue, one he wished to wash away every time it bubbled to the surface, but it haunted him endlessly. Distance would make him feel less weird, less weak, he figured.

Within a day, Iwaizumi Hajime had moved out of your apartment, this time leaving a small letter thanking you for your care and a bill that was much too unreasonable.

SUMMER, 2020

The heat beat down on your back in waves. Pinpricks of sweat cascaded down your back, evidence of your growing exhaustion.

In the heart of Tokyo, beneath a canopy of trees that accompanied each bustling building and towering skyscraper, a cafe nestled itself in the middle of a busy shopping district. You stood behind the bar five days a week, from nine to five, like clockwork. Akaashi Keiji — a face you barely knew from glances in high school — stood beside you every shift. He spoke minimally, save for rambles shared during late nights in which you were both tired and overwhelmed; all you knew of him was his career as an editor and his tendency to overthink. That was all you needed. Nothing more.

Iwaizumi's name hadn't left your lips since the day he left. The pieces of his being drifted away from you all too naturally. The lack of explanation left too much room for assumption — you believed he hated you or had something to hide from you, anything of that sort. But his existence lingered every now and then — mentions of his work on the news, an ad promoting the Men's National Volleyball Team, a post on social media with his account tagged in it. Efforts to abandon the taste of him on your tongue were all for naught, for he lived in every dusty corner of your life.

As if to haunt you once more, the television propped up on the wall featured his face, tanned and bright and sweaty, an interview about the team's upcoming match playing out on screen. You looked away. Akaashi's eyes followed yours.

"He talks about you sometimes," the boy muttered. His attention was drawn to the wet glass in his hands, his movements nearly robotic as he dried each curve and bump. "Bokuto tells me about it, on occasion. How your name pops up during practice for no reason whatsoever."

You tilted your head from its spot between your sweaty palms. "What does he say? About me?"

He placed the cup down on the counter, his wet cloth forgotten alongside it. Akaashi leaned against his back against the marble before explaining, "Lots of things, apparently. He says he feels bad for leaving you all the time, something along those lines. Bokuto says he never explains anything further than that, though."

You copied his position, the countertop cold against your back. Your jaw grew tense from how tightly you clenched it. The methodical fidgeting of your fingers against the hem of your shirt kept you calm, each thread of cotton consoling the ache bubbling in your stomach. "I hate that. I just- why can't he talk to me? Why does he feel the need to talk about me?"

Akaashi shook his head. "I don't know. Bokuto doesn't understand it either; he says its cuts into their practice time and it gets worse every other day." You didn't notice the drink he prepared for you in the midst of your conversation. The ice soothed your nerves, and you thanked him softly. "I don't think he hates you, for how much he talks about you. I think he just doesn't know where to put his feelings, or how to handle them."

His analysis forced you into silence. Quietly, you began to clean up the counter together, making room for the evening shift. The interview finally came to a close, and the screen flashed to an advertisement for women's hair care.

The bus ride home — which you routinely shared with Akaashi — was spent in thoughtful stillness. His words cycled through your mind, each statement making its rounds before settling in the depths of your chest. Your stop always came before his, and small waves of goodbye were shared before you began ascending the steps to your apartment.

Iwaizumi's contact burned brightly on your phone screen. You never did block him, despite your desperation to do so, in fear that he would contact you in any way. He never did.

You thumbed the call button, with hesitance. It rang three times in your ear before he picked up, the timber of his voice unfamiliar to you.

"What's up?" he answered, all too casually.

"Come over, please."

✧.*

You sat adjacent to him, cross-legged on the carpet in front of your couch. His knees were strewn up to his chests with heavy arms wrapped around them, akin to a child.

"Akaashi told me about you," you mumbled, the words tumbling out of your mouth in quiet jumbles. "He said you talk about me, a lot."

Iwaizumi looked at you briefly before turning his head away. "Yeah."

"Why do you keep leaving? Without saying anything?"

"I don't want you to see me at my worst," he began, his voice resolute yet wavering with anxiety. "I'm at my weakest when I'm around you. You don't need to see that."

Your lips parted, your shock plastered on your face. "I don't understand." He buried his head into his knees while you rambled on. "I just want you to be comfortable. That's all I've ever wanted — to see you truly at ease, at rest, for once. I don't mind." The words spilled too quickly, too rapidly.

An admission of your affection in the midst of your rant nearly slipped past him. His hands, once lost, found their way to your face, his marred skin rough against yours. Your speech died on your tongue, your breath cutting short and falling to a stop. "Hajime?" you whispered, and again, as always, your call of his name dissolved the composure ingrained deep within his bones.

His lips slotted themselves against yours, naturally, as if he were born to do so. The delicacy was alien to his being, for he had only known resilience for years upon years. As you had wished, he felt relaxed. At ease. Fragile, almost. He let go too soon, his hands returning to the ground and his eyes falling to the floor. An apology fell from his mouth.

He prepared himself for the worst. Instead, you smiled at him, toothily, and promised him that it would be okay. That he was allowed to be vulnerable. And finally, he smiled back, his lips curling up tenfold.

WINTER, 2022

Iwaizumi sat on your couch, his back heavy against the cushions. His arms stretched out before him, and under your gaze, each scar and bruise on his flesh was on display. A bottle of alcohol and a roll of gauze were propped up against your legs.

"How did this happen?" you questioned, a lilt of jest to your voice.

"Got into a fight with a guy," he mumbled, wincing only slightly when the alcohol dropped onto his wounds. "Not on the job, if that's what you're gonna ask. We were out and he said some stupid shit. Had to knock some sense into him."

"Uh huh," you muttered under your breath. You wrapped the bandage around his arm daintily, the pressure just enough for him to breath in. "And look where that got you."

He sighed at your remarks, opting to observe rather than retaliate. Your hands were soft, a contrast to his own, and each ghost of your fingertips against his skin left him dizzy. "All done," you exclaimed quietly. He watched as you stood up from your spot on the ground, all while scooping up each tool into your arms. You disappeared into the bathroom, leaving him alone in your living room, his arms covered with your gauze.

Iwaizumi Hajime was always rough around the edges. To be gentle was unfitting for him, and he had always lived in such a manner. And yet, around you, he found himself seeking fragility. He yearned for each tidbit of sensitivity and vulnerability you rung out of him, for he adored the smile that adorned your lips in return. He had learned delicacy from you. And that was more than enough.

[aero127]

clearing the puck!

pairing: hockey player!haechan x fem!reader

genre: a fluffly crackfic w a bit of angst? i guess lol

word count: 1.5k (for now..)

synopsis: you befriend the school’s star hockey player in order to get some votes on your student council campaign, and in return, he asks for praise on your newest journal column to impress some scouts. what a friendly deal, right? …right?

author’s note: hey everyone! this is my first ever fic here and i couldn’t be more excited !! this is just a little wip of what could possibly become my biggest work … just to test the waters lmao if you have any tips PLEASE let me know since i actually hate how this is written! anyways i hope u like this bit! ♡

warning(s): none, for now

"Please stop shaking your legs. You're making the entire table move." Renjun gives you a nasty look, and you roll your eyes. You shake your legs even faster, just to push at his buttons a little harder. "Ugh— Stop that!"

"Maybe if you guys were helping me prepare, I wouldn't be so nervous!" You let out an angry huff as you stared at your computer screen, which was blindingly bright. Why are you still insisting on using light mode? Stupid student council elections and stupid columnist work. What use was it if you couldn't even complete a stupid campaign work?

"Y'know it's no use if you're a loner, right?" Chenle perks up from the other side of the room, his body strewn on a spinning chair as he turns around in your direction. He doesn't even dare to look up from his phone, his thumbs messily pressing against the screen. Was he playing Clash of Clans again? "You kinda have to be popular to gain votes. And, contrary to popular belief, I don’t do miracles.

"What do you mean? I'm popular!" You scoff in disbelief, looking over to Renjun for moral support, but he simply shakes his head. Huang Renjun, you are useless.

"Writing a column for our college journal doesn't make you popular."

You grunt in frustration, dropping your head to your keyboard. You let out a long sigh before slamming both of your hands on the table and looking up. The loud crash startles both boys, and they glance at you with wide eyes. "Fine. What do you suggest?"

Chenle and Renjun look at each other and back at you, and you swear there’s a mischievous glint behind their eyes.

You’re never listening to them again. Especially if it’s fucking freezing outside!

You let out a sigh that quickly transforms into a puff of cold air as you look around, spotting the banner hung up above the building entrance. “66 LEE DONGHYUCK — THE NCIT DINOSAURS STAR CENTER” with his face nicely printed on the side. Inspecting his face, you almost laugh at the stupidity of the plan. Befriending the school’s star hockey player in order to socially thrive. Well, befriending is a strong word. You would be offering him a friendly deal, that’s for sure. And it’s not like he would be leaving empty-handed. It’s a win-win situation.

You sucked in a deep breath between your teeth before walking straight into the ice rink. You could hear shouting and the sound of the puck sliding neatly across the ice. It didn’t even take you long to notice your target. You watched him for a while. He’s obviously a natural, every move purposeful and graceful. No wonder he was the team’s star.

You quickly look away when you notice yourself staring. Shit.

Figuring it would be better to just wait until practice was over, you hopped on the grandstands, next to a group of 3 girls that you recognized from around the campus. They were wearing the team’s classic red and blue jersey with a big “66” plastered at the front.

You jumped in your seat with their hysterical screaming, quickly turning your head back to the rink. Donghyuck was planted by the fence, looking up at the benches, winking and flashing his infamous cocky smirk at the girls. You could swear that his gaze lingered on yours for a while, but you shook your head, dismissing the thought. As he finally moved away, the girl sitting directly next to you still shook her arms to get his attention.

Practice went by surprisingly fast, much to your dismay. The coach whistled and next thing you notice, the team was already off the ice. Everyone around patted Donghyuck on the back and sang praise at the boy, who just grinned. A slightly taller, and what appeared older guy, swiftly threw his arm around Donghyuck’s shoulder, revealing the back of his jersey. “MARK, 2”. You couldn’t distinctly understand what they were saying but you could only assume that he was teasing the blonde, the way Donghyuck seemed to sulk at his words. As Mark started pushing Donghyuck to walk away to the locker room, you panic, afraid to miss your shot to talk to the blonde.

“LEE DONGHYUCK!” Your shout reverberates all throughout the rink. Your survival instincts really took over this one. Good work on first impressions! You feel your cheeks heat up as all eyes are now on you. You both stare at each other with wide eyes. How you wished you could just dig the biggest hole on the ground to hide yourself forever.

“Uh, yes?” He asks reluctantly, looking around as if he wasn’t the only Lee Donghyuck there. “Can I help you?”

“Uhm— Yes! I need to talk to you.” You internally curse at yourself for stuttering so much. “Alone. If— If that’s alright.”

Mark, who still stood next to his friend, looks over at him. Donghyuck nods at the rest of the team and gives off some kind of excuse, sending them on their way. They reluctantly walk away, leaving you both alone by the grandstands.

You feel your stomach turn as you watch him approach you, practice bag messily thrown over his shoulder.

“What’s up?” He’s rather calm for someone who just got shouted at by a complete stranger.

You gulp. Is this really a good idea? He notices your hesitation and raises his eyebrows, gesturing for you to talk.

“Well— This is going to sound really weird… But we need to be friends from now on.”

He freezes in his spot, obviously taken aback by your offer. He looks at you with a confused frown until something clicks in his head. His pursed lips curve into a smile and he scoffs at you. “Look, I get it if you have a crush on me, but you’re horrible at this.”

What? You quickly wave your hands dismissively in front of him, shaking your head. “That’s not it!”

“Then what is it?”

You sigh and stare back at him, shit-eating smirk plastered on his face. Well, you asked for it, Lee Donghyuck.

“As you probably don’t know, the student council elections are coming up and I’m running for president. The problem is that, according to my friends, I’m not “popular” enough to get voted on. And since you’re probably the most popular person in this school, if I become friends with you, I’ll be popular by association, which means I might actually have a shot at the elections. Obviously, I know that this is a weird request but we can make some sort of deal — If you’re up for it.” After a completely venting (and probably rapping) at him, Donghyuck stares at you dumbfounded. Great, now you scared him.

Seeing the look on his face, a wave of failure washes over you and suddenly you’re rethinking everything. You knew this was a stupid plan for the start. Oh, Huang Renjun. You were going to kill him! You have embarrassed yourself astronomically and now you could say goodbye to your dear presidential spot—

“Okay.”

Okay? “Okay?”

“Sure. Why not?” You look at him with a mixture of disbelief and confusion and he just shrugs. “Plus, you said that we could make a deal.” Of course. He was only interested because he was getting something out of it. You’re a smart man, Lee Donghyuck.

“Yeah— sure. Do you have anything in mind?” He seems to stop for a moment, briefing on what to say. You look at him impatiently, tapping your fingers rhythmically against your arm.

“You write a column for the school’s journal, right? Isn’t it something like… “Like It Is”? Yeah, that’s it.”

“How did you— Whatever. What do you need?” His smirk grows bigger as he stares back at you.

“We have a few NHL scouts coming over for the playoffs.” He crosses his arms. “To add up to my amazing playing skills, I need you to write a column about me. Y’know, to impress them.”

“And what makes you think that they’ll listen to me?”

“Because you actually write things as they are.” He sniffs. “You have an honest reputation around the school. They’ll believe you.” You ponder.

“Well, I–” Donghyuck quickly turns around as someone calls out his name.

“As much as I would love to continue our lovely convo, I have to go. Lovely seeing you, (---).” He prepares to walk away but quickly turns back. “You have my Insta, right?” You simply nod in response and he smiles, finally walking to the locker room.

“Bye bye, my sweetheart!”

“Wait, Donghyuck— That’s not—!”

Before you can say anything, you’re all alone in the rink.

[masonmontz]

heeey, how are you? hope you like this one :)

english is not my first language, i’m sorry if you see something wrong

angst

word count: 3.275k

part 2 SOON

Manchester is your home for years and one of your favorite places in the world, not just because of the beautiful places but all your friends and your favorite people are there too. Your family always come to visit you and finally you don’t feel alone being there.

You were 23 when you move from London to Manchester, you got a place on a cooking course you've been dreaming about for a long time and you had to move.

But you had to leave some things behind.

Or someone.

You met Mason when you were twenty-two and he was eighteen, four years younger but he was your favorite since the day you two met. He was funny and gentle and it was no surprise when you were totally in love with him, even though he's three years younger. In fact, he had a little trouble winning you over since you were reluctant about the age difference.

But how can you not fall in love with Mason Mount?

Things were going very well between you two. You loved his family and they loved you, just as your family loved him too - especially your father and brother, who were true football fans.

But just like everything in life, bad times come and cannot be avoided.

You had already taken some cooking courses and were always studying in search of knowledge, but the one in Manchester was a real dream and you could even have the chance to open your own business when you graduated.

You still remember the conversation with Mason when you decided to move.

6 YEARS AGO

“I passed the course in Manchester.” you say, lying in Mason’s chest. You've been waiting for the results for a few days and yesterday you finally got the answer, but you haven't told Mason anything until now.

“Oh my God, are you serious?” he asks and you agree, smiling at him. “I knew it. I’m so happy for you, love.” He hugs you and leaves a kiss on your forehead, celebrating with you.

“Yeah, I was afraid I wouldn't get a place on the course but I’m happy now” You get out of bed and look for your pj’s that were thrown across the room as soon as Mason arrived at your apartment.

“You didn't believe me when I said you could do it.” He says and sits on your bed, sleepy, after a game against Arsenal in North London and spend some hours in your bed, he was totally tired.

You look at him. He yawns and you look at his beautiful face, with almost no beard because he's young, the messy hair and his body wearing nothing under the sheets. You feel like you might start crying at the beautiful sight, a sight only you see when you two are lost in your own world.

“You’re right.” You say and go to the kitchen just to get a glass of water. Your heart races. You feel Mason approaching before you even see him, he holds you by your waist, leaving a kiss on the back of your neck. “We need to talk, Mase.”

“U-hu.” He agrees and goes to the fridge, looking for something to eat. “About what?”

“About us.” You say and he stares at you. “I’m moving to Manchester.”

“I know babe, but I can drive, you can drive here, there's also the train and I don't have games every day.” You shake your head, knowing this won't work. “What do you mean ‘no’?”

“I don’t think this is gonna work, Mase.”

“Y/N, what?” He looks lost and dropped his food on the counter, sitting on a chair. “We are not breaking up.”

“Yes Mason, we are.” Your voice shakes and you feel a tear run down your face.

Mason doesn't say anything, and neither do you. You walk up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder, but he pushes you away, not wanting your touch.

“Mase, please” You speak with a tearful voice.

“Why, Y/N? Why?” He asks, looking at you. Your heart breaks into a million pieces when you see tears falling down his face too. “Are you going to give up on us like this? You'll only be there for a year, for god's sake!”

“Mason, what if I move there permanently? What would we do? See each other just on our vacations?” You shouted at him, making him startle at your tone. “Sorry.”

“We would find a way.” He says and you cry harder, closing your eyes and listening to his cry. “You're not even giving us another chance.”

“Don’t say that, Mase.” You say and he gets up from his chair, walking past you. “You are so young, you have so much to enjoy with your friends, with Chelsea. You won't be able to do this stuck with me.”

“What the fuck, I'm not stuck with you, I'm with you because I love you.” He yells at you, crying.

“You’re just nineteen, you don’t know anything about love.” You know you've crossed the line, but you're not in a position to control the words that come out of your mouth.

“Yeah, right, I'm just a silly boy who liked an older woman. I’m just fun for her.”

“Mason, that’s not true.” You follow him as he goes to your room, picking up his own clothes from the floor and putting them on, completely ignoring you. “Mason, listen to me.”

“No, Y/N.” He says and picks up his backpack from the floor where he brought his clothes. “I feel so stupid. I would never give up on us the same way you are doing now.”

“You don’t understand.” You yell at him once again.

“Cause I’m just nineteen, yeah?” He laughs ironically, but the tears don’t stop falling. “Don't you think I could make you happy?”

“I never said that, Mason.”

“It doesn’t matter now, I’m leaving.” He says and walks to the door, but turns one last time to look at you. “I don’t think I can love another person in the same way I love you. I gave my heart to you and you didn't do it the same way.”

“I’m sorry.” You speak quietly, but you know he heard you. “I love you Mason.”

“I don’t think you do.”

NOW

The course lasted a year and after that one of the professors invited you to work with him. You worked at his restaurant for almost three years until you finally opened your own business. The salary was incredible and you were able to save it until you had enough money to open your cafe, a place where you serve lunch, sandwiches and had the best pastry shop in Manchester - according to your customers.

“So, when are you going to a Manchester United game with me?” Emily, your employee, asks.

“Uh, never.” You answer her. “You know I don’t like football.”

“I know, but Sunday is my birthday and I really want you there with me and my friends.”

“Your teenage friends?”

“Alright, I know you are older but you are really cool and they like you too as much as I do.”

“I mean, I could be your mother.”

“Oh, shut up, you’re just twenty-nine.” She laughs. “Y/N, please, you are always wonderful with me, you are funny and I will really appreciate it if you go.”

“I’m not going to the game, but I promise I’m coming to the party at the club, okay?”

“Perfect.” She turns and goes to a table to serve a customer. You sigh.

You actually like football, but football reminds you of the past, a past that took you a long time to forget. Or to leave aside.

You suffered a lot when things ended between you and Mason, it was very difficult living alone in Manchester in the first few months and most days you just wanted to call him and tell how much you missed him.

A few days after you broke up, Mason removed you from social media and you avoided him everywhere, even his family.

Time passes, wounds heal.

You made real friends in Manchester, you were really happy to have such special people. It wasn't always possible to avoid the news and sometimes you'd see Mason on television at a game, in an interview or on a gossip channel.

Even your friends commented on him, as they didn't know he was your ex-boyfriend. You ignored every time a friend said he was the most handsome player in the Premier League, that they would like to spend a night with him or the times they commented about women he was shagging.

There were many women.

And about a year ago he became a Manchester United player.

You heard all over town that Mason Mount was the team's new midfielder, but you also heard people commenting that he was a traitor, a snake. Luckily, you never saw him around Manchester and you would never go to a game knowing you would see him in person for the first time in years.

“Heey, Y/N. I’m so happy you are here.” Emily say as soon as she sees you. She stumbles and seems more excited than ever. “Wow, you are very beautiful.”

“Thank you, Em.” You say, looking at yourself. You are wearing a short, tight pink dress. Loose hair and heels that will hurt your feet. The result looked great to you in the mirror. Emily hugs you.

“Are you drunk?” You ask and she agrees, laughing. “Oh my God.”

“Let’s have fun, please, don’t be and old lady tonight.”

“I’m sorry. I’m gonna get myself a drink.”

You go to the bar and buy a drink, going back to the place reserved for Emily's party. She invited a lot of people, you recognize most of them, since they always go to see Emily at work. Some of her friends talk to you, but most of the time you just watch the various people dancing on the dance floor while you sip your drink.

“Y/N, how are you?” Lucca, one of her friends, comes closer to you.

“Hi Lucca, I’m fine, and you?” He agrees and you realize he's drunk too.

“I always thought you were pretty, you know?” You take a sip of your drink to keep from laughing at him. “But I don't have the courage to ask you out.”

“I’m sorry Lucca, how old are you?”

“I’m eighteen.”

“Yeah, I’m twenty-nine, nothing will happen.” He grimaces but agrees.

“Oh, everybody stay calm, Manchester United players are here.” Emily appears, celebrating that her team is here. “Oh, they probably have a reserved seat.”

“Hey, don't get upset, enjoy your birthday." You say.

But now you only think about leaving, even without knowing if he's here. You refuse to look at the entrance and see the players. You don't know if you're ready to see Mason again after so many years. You don't even know if he remembers you after so many women in his bed.

You can see Emily and her friends get embarrassed as the players walk past you, showing off to them. You hold your breath as you see those tall men walking past you, but you still turn your back as they pass to the place reserved for them. When Emily turns to face the players who passed by, you sigh when you realize there are none left.

“I'll get another drink.” You say but no one hears you because of the loud music.

As you take two steps to the bar, someone bumps into you hard, making you stumble forward and bump into someone else. A large hand holds your wrist and stops you from falling or tripping again.

“Sorry, I didn’t see you.”

But it was too late to run away.

Because it's Mason in front of you. Holding you. His face is as shocked as yours.

Your heart races seeing the man you loved there in front of you. That's what he is now, a man, no longer a boy.

“Y/N?” He looks confused and lost and you know you have the same expression in your face. “What are you doing here?”

“Mason, hey.” You say, panting. “I didn't expect to see you.”

You can see from the corner of your eyes that Emily is shocked along with her friends, staring at you and Mason.

“Uh, I- I don’t know. Nice to see you.” He says and you can see his cheek turn red. “Can I hug you?”

You look at him for a few seconds, but nod with a shy smile. He comes over and gives you a big hug, holding you by the waist while placing his head on your neck. You feel his hands shaking, but you're just as nervous as he is.

“I can believe you are here.” He lets you go, giving you a smile.

“Yeah, it's my friend's birthday.” You point at Emily and her eyes widen when Mason turns and looks at her, waving at her quickly.

“Nineteen?” He says when he sees the balloons with the numbers.

“Yeah, she's my employee too, that's why I'm here.” You say and see some people surrounding you, probably wanting to take a picture with Mason. “I'll leave you alone, I'm going to the bar to get a drink.”

Mason looks like he wants to say something but someone interrupts him, so you turn your back and walk to the bar.

You need fresh air, to be honest.

The bar was full but you found a place to sit and ask the barman for a drink. It’s hard to know what feelings you are feeling right now, not because of the time you spent apart, but because you were sure you had no feelings for him right now. Totally wrong.

Everything you felt when you broke up came to you like a shot.

When the barman handed you your drink, you thanked him and turned back to Emily. She and her friends were talking very loud about the players and you tried to ignore them, but failed.

“Y/N, can you tell me, please, what Mason was saying to you?” She begged. “Why did he gave you a hug?”

“Cause we know each other.” She doesn't look convinced. “I’m from London.”

“Why didn't you ever tell me you knew him?”

“It’s not a big deal, Em.” She shrugs and takes the drink from your hand.

“Let’s do shots.”

An hour later you could barely see straight. Emily made you take five shots of tequila and you don't know how you'll work tomorrow. You didn't see Mason after you met him the first time and you were relieved about that.

You were happy when Emily's older brother arrived with his girlfriend and you could talk to two older people, but they were drunk as you and the conversations were messed up.

“Why are these players so hot?” Sarah, a friend of Emily, says to you. “I mean, they have those big legs and muscular arms, so, so hot.” She points to a place you hadn’t see yet and your eyes go straight to Mason, who is talking to a beautiful woman and one of the players.

Maybe it's the fact that you're drunk, but he looks so handsome that you can't stop staring at him. He is wearing a white shirt, pants and white sneakers. No one can look this good in simple clothes.

“I agree.” Mason seems to feel your gaze on him and turns his head, his gaze meeting yours and making him smile shyly. You try to hide it and feel your cheek turn red when he sees you. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

The place is full of people and you have a little trouble finding the bathroom, but you do and stay there for a few seconds, a little away from the noise and crowd. You feel dizzy and decide to get water.

But when you leave the bathroom, even with a few people in the small hallway, you can see Mason standing there, leaning against the wall. His face lights up when he sees you walking up to him.

“Hey, I thought you left.” He says, smiling again.

“No, I’m just feeling dizzy after all those drinks.”

“You’re okay?” He looks worried, but you nod and say you're fine.

“Yeah, it’s late and I think I’m going home now.”

“I can take you home, I'm leaving too.”

“No, Mase, it’s not necessary. I’ll call a taxi.”

“Y/N, it’s fine. I didn't drink and I can take you home safe.” He doesn't seem like he's going to give up on the idea and you finally agree.

“Just let me say goodbye to Emily.” He agrees and follows you there. You can perfectly feel his body almost touching yours as you walk towards you friend.

“Em, I’m going home.” You give her a hug and say goodbye to her other friends, but before you leave, she pulls you by the arm.

“What is Mason Mount doing here?” She asks.

“He’s driving me home.”

“I bet you have a lot to tell me tomorrow.”

“That’s a nice place.” Mason says when he finally finishes looking around your apartment. “Feeling better?” You mumble, still lying on the couch.

The ride home was fine until you felt sick from the drinks you had. Mason stopped the car in the middle of the road for you to vomit and it was the most humiliating moment of your life.

“I’m too old for this.” Mason laughs and sits on the couch next to you. Even after he dropped you off at home, you told him he could leave, but he didn't want to leave you alone. How embarrassing is it to throw up in front of your ex boyfriend?

“You’re not old. You've never been a person who can handle a lot of drinks, have you?”

“You’re right.” You close your eyes. “Really Mason, you can go if you want, I’m feeling better.”

“No. I’m staying with you.” He says and you look at him. “I’m happy to see you tonight.”

You smile softly at him, sitting on the couch.

“I really thought I'd never see you again, Y/N.” He sighs and scratches his hair. “I was very sad when we broke up, maybe I said the wrong things but then I understood that it was the best choice for our relationship. It would never work out apart from each other.”

“For a long time I wondered if I had made the right choice.”

“You did, and I thank you for it.” He places a hand on your knee, which is resting close to him. “But I missed you so much at first. Mum didn't know what to do to cheer me up. I took it all out on the field.”

“I’m sorry, Mason.” You say and he looks at you. “I missed you too, so much. I was alone here and had no one to talk.” You start. “But I wouldn't do anything different. I built something and you have an incredible career now, maybe if we were together you wouldn't have any of this.”

“Yeah, but now I think London doesn't like me so much.” He confesses. “Things got bad at Chelsea, I let a lot of people down.”

“I heard something about that.” You approach him, hugging him and laying your head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry for that too.”

“It’s fine, I’m happy here.” He leaves a kiss in your hair and you pull away.

“Things will be fine, Mason, you'll see.”

[tmntxthings]

Anon from before who asked about the request! So happy to hear you’re interested I’m so excited!! I can’t remember if there is a word limit to asks so I may have to send this in two parts. I’ll refer to future Leo as F!Leo and regular Leo as just Leo 

So the request is inspired by that one shot you did were Future Leo (rip-) ends up in the past and sees his younger s/o, yelling at his younger self to cherish them before they’re gone 

That request? *chefs kiss* mwah, le magnifique~

So a what if idea for a bittersweet contention! 

So F!Leo is stuck at the lair while the bros are out patrolling, it’s been a while since F!Leo ran into his s/o’s younger self, and he’s adamant on not letting it happen again. It’s easier for everyone that way…but then his s/o shows up at the lair, looking for younger him. He’s panicked, naturally, but eventually his younger s/o stumbles into him (it’s not like F!Leo had anywhere else to hide aside from the lair anyway). F!Leo speaks in short sentences to his younger s/o as they try to make small talk while making some tea, saying they can just wait for the boys to get back (to F!Leo’s slight, very mild annoyance) 

F!Leo is trying to be polite, but the lasting sting is still there

The sting that tells him yes, this is his darling, but it’s not HIS darling. His darling died to the Kraang, he let them down. This alternate version of her wasn’t his. His s/o was gone, nothing was going to bring her back. 

While Leo is showing off at nothing, his younger s/o ends up burning themselves with the hot water, having been distracted. Instantly, F!Leo is up out of his chair and making a beeline to them. He’s carefully inspecting their hand, assuring that it’s not a serious burn, and careful getting them a wet flannel

There’s a beat of awkward silence as F!Leo focuses intently on his younger s/o’s hand to avoid looking at their face, meanwhile, his s/o shifts uncomfortably….but F!Leo has his attention on them when they nervously speak up “Do you…not like me, or something?” 

Before F!Leo can even say anything, in a desperate, nervous tone, his s/o could reply with soemthing along the lines of 

“I mean- it’s just, ever since we met it..it just feels like you’ve been avoiding me? Whenever I come round you’re always so quite, a-and whenever I talk to you it’s like,  I dunno, you always try to use as few words as possible? Yet when you talk with the others, you seem fine” 

His s/o would then go on to ask if they did something to upset him, or if in in his timeline she did something bad. All the while F!Leo is just sat there, stunned, because he made his younger s/o feel like they where doing something *wrong?*

Maybe for a fluffy/happy ending it could be wrapped up with F!Leo admitting that - in his timeline - he messed up the lives of so many people (due to the Kraang war). I doubt he’d admit his s/o died in his timeline, but he still has a sad, broken expression on his face as he recalls the day he lost them, HIS s/o. 

But then, before he can start crying, his younger s/o places her hand on his arm and says something reassuring? Maybe how no matter how messy things might have been, if she got to spend a messy future with Leo, they’d be happy 

Anywho sorry this is SUPER long plz take your time and no worries if you don’t wanna do this one since I know the FUture Leo post was a while ago! 

一∑Timeline。・゜・

author’s notes: anon lemme just say, you are most definitely a writer, likeeee i hope you have a writer blog 🙌 phenomenal!! this may be a tad more sad than u wanted 😅

warnings: angst, fluff, unedited, flashbacks, mentions of death?

The work we are discussing ↑

→ Blast From the Past ←

—————————————————————————

This was uncharted territory. Which of course shouldn’t be a big deal to Leo. Not after dealing with Yokai or the Hidden City. Weird shit happens down there all the time. Mysticism is something that no one really understands. (Which drove Donnie crazy) And let’s not forget about the organized crime, like the Foot Clan. Or literal aliens escaping from a prison dimension.

No Man’s Land should be right up Leo’s alley with a track record like that. He should be used to the weird, to the abnormal.

But even with the world’s fate suddenly thrust into his hands, Leo may pick that over getting thrown back into the past. Or a different timeline. Whatever. See! It’s already getting confusing.

Alas fate doesn’t give two shits as to what Leo would rather choose. So here he is, six months later after being dropped 40 years back in time. Back before he royally screwed everything up for everyone. It was heavy at first. The burden of not repeating the same mistake twice. With that out of the way, Kraang imprisoned once again, Leo felt like his purpose was complete.

That was why he got sent back wasn’t it? To right his wrongs. Shouldn’t he have gone up in a cloud of dust? Or a portal should’ve opened up for him to waltz into?! Needless to say none of that happened. So he’s still here, with a bunch of teenagers and his dad and April. All alive and healthy and happy.

Talk about a culture shock. Leo could eat good food again. Go to sleep with both eyes closed. Or well, try to. Old habits die hard. He tries to keep to himself for the most part. There is this weird sense of déjà vu that happens when he runs into anyone from this timeline. Over time the feeling has faded, especially to those who he can’t really avoid. All the brothers check in on him regularly. Leon, (his younger self) begrudgingly does so.

Ever since they had that little spat Leon maintains a certain distance which is perfectly fine with Leo. Boundaries are good. Leo feels safe for the most part in the lair.

That is until you come in. Leo would’ve heard you coming if he hadn’t had headphones on. A luxury that he lost in his own timeline. He missed music. Reading comics. So he thoroughly enjoys all of those things now.

His hearing is a bit impaired due to y’know a war lifestyle. Gunshots and laser canons and all the other weapons Donnie could piece together took their toll overtime. So when he listens to music he has to turn it up pretty high. (Which he would’ve done anyhow).

Leo sits motionless in Dad’s recliner, eyes wide as he watches you shake your umbrella. It’s obviously raining topside. Little water droplets hit the cement floor. Like your umbrella, you aren’t exactly dry either.

You haven’t noticed him yet. Leo hasn’t seen you since the very first time. Back on the rooftops when he used to patrol with the boys. You haven’t changed a bit, and that nostalgic feeling takes over. He sees you and your future self. The way you move, the way you groan in dismay at the tears in your umbrella. How you run your fingers through your damp hair. It’s all so achingly familiar.

Maybe he can make a quick portal getaway. Maybe you’ll never have to know he was here. Maybe if he doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe, you won’t see him.

But as you sigh and place the umbrella propped up to dry, you finally check your surroundings. Your own eyes widening before a smile graces your face. It’s more than he deserves. He wishes he could smile back. But his mouth doesn’t move, in fact it feels like he ate sand. It’s dry and uncomfortable. He’s uncomfortable.

He watches on as you begin to speak. The older version of yourself still right beside you, doing the same thing. Mimicking. Leo swallows as he schools his features and tugs the headphones down to hang around his neck.

“W-what was that?” He asks, clearing his throat after the words come out a bit stilted.

“I hadn’t realized anyone was home! It sure is pouring down and I happened to be nearby when the wind suddenly ramped up and—“ You point over to your damaged umbrella.

“The darn thing couldn’t handle the weather! So I decided to come take refuge here until it dies down.” You pause for a moment. Then continue.

“I called Donnie after getting past the manhole cover. Something about a day in the Hidden City..?”

Leo nods.

You shift your weight. Still standing by the entrance. A bead of rainwater slowly making its way from your hairline, down your cheek, to your jaw. “So I guess they won’t be back til later!” You add on.

“Yeah,” is all Leo can think to say.

He doesn’t want to talk to you. Well he does. But he knows he shouldn’t. He really really shouldn’t. It’s a bad idea for multiple reasons. Even if you already know he’s from the future and all that drama. The less you know the better.

And yet, he can’t help but notice how you’re starting to shiver. His tongue clicks inside his mouth. He’ll just get you a blanket. That’s it! After that he’ll go off to his own subway car.

Leo stands, grabbing a throw blanket off the back of the old couch and walks over to you. He offers the blanket, his eyes firmly planted on the ground. You’re wearing converse, socks that go up to what he would guess is your mid-shin.

Your hand grazes his as you take the blanket. “Thank you,” and that’s all it takes for his eyes to be magnetically drawn upwards. He doesn’t deserve those words. “It’s nothing. You should go sit… or whatever! I’ll get out of here-“ Leo is moving as he talks. Already tearing his gaze away, turning his shell towards you. Making for the exit. To go to his room and hide.

“Don’t go!” You call out to stop him. And he does. Immediately he stills. His shoulders tense as he closes his eyes. Déjà vu. You’ve said that before. In the future...in his timeline. So many times.

“Leo don’t go, we can last a little while longer on the supplies we have.”

“The longer we wait the more dire of a situation it’ll be later on, don’t worry I’ll be back, I’ll be safe,”

“Please don’t go! This mission is impossible!”

“It’s not impossible Donnie ran the numbers and our chances aren’t zero, not trying at all makes it impossible hermano, don’t worry I’ll be back, I’ll be safe,”

“Y/N?! Nononono. C’mon not like this. You can’t leave me. You’re the one always saying don’t go. So you can’t go either! Don’t go, don’t go, don’t go, please don’t go!

“Leo?” You say softly. He must’ve missed the sound of your footfalls. Because your voice is right behind him. Next to him once more. “Okay,” he sighs after a moment. He turns to see you bundled up in the blanket and squashes down the complicated feelings that try to bubble to the surface.

“Let’s go to the kitchen, Splinter has tea right? Or should I try for the hot chocolate stash?” Leo wonders if these questions are purposefully asked to get him to answer. Thankfully you just keep on talking. You grab onto one of his fingers, and gently pull for him to follow.

So he does, into the kitchen you both go. You tug him towards a stool, where he sits as you get busy. Chatting away about different kinds of tea. How it isn’t your preferred drink but it’s sure to warm you up. Asking what his own favorite is to which he shrugs. Leo’s decided nonverbal is the hill he wants to die on.

You keep on talking. Wondering aloud how the trip to the Hidden City is for everyone. Leo has a feeling that if everyone split up like last time, it’s probably just as hectic as before. Nothing ever goes as planned down in that city.

“The future must’ve been rough…”

Leo blinks, as looks over at you. You’re leaning your back against the countertop. Next to the stove where a kettle has been placed on the nearest burner. Your arms are crossed and you meet his gaze, you don’t say anything else.

“Yeah? What gave it away?” Leo can only let out a dry chuckle. Attempting at humor and failing miserably. His eyes can’t handle staring at you for too long. So his gaze wanders away, finding the silhouette of your future self once more. He looks away from future you as well. He can’t handle that either.

“I don’t know. Maybe your eyes? Like you’ve seen stuff… bad stuff and it haunts you.” And Leo can’t help but think how perceptive you are. He always felt seen when it came to you. He couldn’t hide for long with you in the room. His good hand squeezes into a fist.

“Yeah..?” His voice is weak in his own ears. Cracking. Fragile. And he smells you. The scent of rainwater and lingering tones from your perfume. They get closer. And he closes his eyes. Because they are filling with tears. He breathes in, and out. Then opens to see you standing before him. Even with his sitting down in the stool he’s just a tad bit taller. But he feels so small under your gaze.

“It’s okay,” you whisper. As if you could possibly know. If the boys told you all they knew, that Leo had failed the world, that Kraang had invaded not just New York. That the resistance he led had slowly but surely been picked apart until it was only him left standing. You don’t know what you’re talking about. He knows this, and yet he finds so much comfort in those words.

Maybe because they are coming from you. He doesn’t say anything as his eyes fill with tears once more. And he can’t help but be annoyed at that fact. That all he wants to do is cry around you. He looks up at the overhead light hoping to burn his retinas into submission. That he won’t cry.

Then he feels you touch his good arm. And he doesn’t flinch. But he stills. Not moving at all. As you slowly get closer, coming to stand in between his legs. And your arms go up around his neck. And you hug him.

Leo is frozen. The light above going a bit fuzzy. A second passes. Two. Three. And Leo thaws as you continue to hold him. His own hands going around your sides, pulling you in impossible closer. His chest starting to heave, tears starting to fall, so he squeezes his eyes shuts and buries his snout into the warmth of your neck.

It’s not exactly the same. Your scent is just slightly different from the you in the future. But he can almost imagine it is you from his timeline. That you’re okay. Telling him that all the things he did, tried to do—

“It’s okay Leo,” your hand is soft as it goes up and down the top part of his shell. Maybe you do know. Maybe his eyes did give it all away. And despite his eyes being shut so tightly, tears still manage to leak out.

“Thanks” he croaks into your skin. Allowing himself this one reprieve. Or maybe he just can’t help himself now that you’re here in his arms. He nuzzles his snout into your skin. Just once. His hands tighten around your sides, just once. Before he goes slack and the sound of the kettle is piercing as it squeals. His hands fall away from you, and he leans back in his stool letting you go.

You have tears in your eyes too. Now that he can see your face again. So he gives you a grin, shaking his head. “Like you said, it’s okay.” And he stands, offering you the stool, passing you by to go to the kettle. To finish making your tea.

Leo tells you all his guesses as to what is happening to everyone in the Hidden City. Laughs are shared, and the conversation flows pretty smoothly from then on. April, Dad, and the boys get back not too much later and they regal all of their adventures to you. Every time Leo's guesses are confirmed you can't help but look over at him. A big smile on your face. Tears no more.

That's how you should be, Leo thinks. You should get to be happy in this life. In this timeline. And for the first time ever since he was able to defeat the Kraang. Leo feels hopeful that you will be.

[songsofadelaide]

Hey!! just wanna say ive been obsessed w ur works and was wondering if u can do a hoshina drabble/ fic based on P1harmony’s Fall in Love Again (aaaaa pref if past/present can be soichiro & hoshina orrr narumi & hoshina) hust an idea that popped in my mind cause the song kept showing up in my fyp!! thank u so muchh!!

Anon you and your big brain! 🤩 I'll have you know I love the angst between the Hoshina brothers so I might as well! Since you've given me the idea. ✨

✧ Fall In Love Again - P1Harmony

candor — another side story to radiant point. | refulgence

There was a time when you thought of Soichiro as your first love. There was a time when you thought he would turn your way.

After being fed the fairy tale of true love time and again and having eaten of it until its flavours were bland in your mouth, you soon came to realise that all you were fed was false hope. Soichiro was his family's ultimate incarnation, while you were but a paltry offering by yours. Though paltry you were, you were all your family had. Your beauty was their pride and joy, but it certainly wasn't enough to win the heart of your supposed betrothed.

As you grew up alongside the Hoshina brothers, it became clearer to you that it would have made more sense to have been offered to the second son instead. Not only were you two closer in age, but you also shared a deeper friendship with him— the kind that made you forget all about the existence of his older brother, and what his existence meant for your own.

Soichiro did turn your way. Only you were too preoccupied to notice.

The older boy was evidently surprised at how you were able to hold yourself against him during one of your sparring sessions. It had only been a matter of months since you started swordsmanship training under your father but you had a mastery of the basics now and even had a certain flair for precision. But regardless of your exponential growth, you were still outclassed by him, and he toppled over you as easily as kicking a potted plant to the ground.

"Nice try, beggar princess. Let me tell ya somethin' while we're here," Soichiro stated as he turned his back on you. "You're leavin' yourself wide open in other areas, but other than that, your stance is perfect."

He didn't want to admit that there was a beauty in your ferocity, too. Not with his little brother watching you both so intently. He'll settle with berating you until you've had enough. It's not like you were going anywhere, anyway. As far as he knew, his family owned you now.

That time you thought of Soichiro as your first love was a joke.

It was only because you fed into your family's narrative that a daughter like you needed a husband like him. As you grew older, the prospects of him ever becoming a tolerable husband dimmed by the day. He acknowledged your skill now, but he was still an awful person at the end of the day. Awful in that he had no sense of delicacy at all, even when it came to you, who was supposed to be his wife in the future.

Now that you were sixteen, the fairy tale was over, or the curse had been lifted, and you finally decided for yourself that you wanted no part in Soichiro's plans for you in the future, whatever those may be.

So you did what he thought you would never have the courage to do.

"I thank you and your family for your kindness to me, and I apologise, oji-san, but I don't want to marry Soichiro-san," you stated as you prostrated yourself before the Hoshina patriarch. "As much as I would have loved to be part of your family, Soichiro-san's attitude leaves much to be desired."

Was he hearing things right? He was the one who had attitude problems?

Soichiro sat there in complete shock at your declaration, but Soshiro was even more surprised at it unfolding. Their father didn't look too nonplussed by your statement. He knew that his eldest son was a little devil who thrived in discouraging both you and his younger brother, only for you to show him results time and again.

He also knew that Soshiro challenged his older brother for your hand, not just once, but more times than he can remember. Perhaps he can turn you around once more by opening a simple possibility. "Is there nothing that can change your mind? Your family agreed to an engagement, after all."

"I..."

I want Soshiro.

But you couldn't say it. You were in no position to make any demands even if they were freely offered to you. And what would Soshiro say about that? He was more than happy to be your friend, but would he ever accept you as his bride?

No, you've done enough dreaming for the last ten years.

"I'm afraid not, oji-san."

It was only when you left their estate that the brothers spoke once more until it eventually evolved into another duel— like the wild beasts that they were.

"You should have said something back then!" Soichiro exclaimed between his slashes and parries. "Why didn't you ask her and tell her to stay? That you would have treated her better than I ever would? I mean, you already do, but—"

"Are you kidding?! You already ran her out of the family! She already made it clear that she wants nothing to do with us! What makes you think she'd want to stay here?!" Soshiro shot back at him, mirroring his speed and movements until they were all but a single blur of swords and wind.

This blockhead second son knew nothing, of course. Soichiro was annoyed beyond sense at how dense his little brother was. Was he the only one who saw the smile that lit your face every time Soshiro welcomed you to their estate? Was he the only one who noticed how sweet your laughter sounded when it was Soshiro at the other end of the joke? Or how you once said in confidence that you preferred Soshiro's presence over his own because he was unbearable to be with, even though it was all his doing?

Soichiro got his just deserts and it annoyed him to no end. Because once more, he faced the prospect of being second best to his little brother, who grew in strength and skill with each passing day and even managed to win your heart all the same.

"Hgk—!"

But it was his brother's blade on his neck now. Soshiro got the one-up against him without any handicaps this time. His usually boisterous little brother withdrew his sword and quietly stared down at him. Soshiro did not look at him with a sense of superiority, but that of revulsion. The very same emotion in your eyes when you bade him farewell that day.

"I'm going to ask for her in my own time. You better not get in my way when that happens."

Your promotion to Third Division Platoon Leader was met with quiet celebration. Many of your fellow team members rejoiced in the opportunity to work under you this time as their leader. You were known to give out measured and concise orders that allowed every single one of them to seamlessly weave through the field and get the job done with minimum risks and casualties.

When Captain Ashiro congratulated you and presented you with your badge in her office, she let you in on a little secret only she and a handful of other superior officers were aware of. "When you first took the exams, you received a commendation from Captain Hoshina Soichiro of the Sixth Division."

Huh. You heard her right once. "I did not know that."

Captain Hoshina Soichiro of the Sixth Division vouched for your skills. If this was his way of making amends for his terrible treatment of you in the past, it was a pretty gesture, but still far too late.

"In his recommendation, he detailed how your family was a close associate of theirs and how you learned swordsmanship alongside him and our Vice Captain."

"That's true, Captain. Much of my skill was honed under their roof."

"If you don't mind me asking, why did you suddenly shift from Kendo to Fencing?"

Your Captain's question elicited a small laugh from your lips. "You might think it a petty reason, Captain, but I changed sword arms just so I could be better than them at something."

You gently touched the shiny new badge clipped to the collar of your formal regalia. "Soshiro... I mean Vice Captain Hoshina is someone I looked up to very much when we were children. If I may be so bold to say that he inspired me to take up swordsmanship."

"Hmm. I see," came Mina's short but understanding reply to you. "Just as Hoshina is important to me on the battlefield, I'll also be counting on you to carve open a path for me and everyone else."

"Of course, Captain, ma'am!" You said resolutely, followed by a crisp salute that matched the sharpness of your outfit today.

"Will you marry me?"

Soshiro asked you that question in the dead quiet of the night as he held you close in his arms. The silence of your quarters and the stillness of the rest of the base made it feel like you were the only two people in the world.

"Yes," you said with a small swallow of saliva to wet your mouth. "As long as you aren't gonna be like your brother."

"I'm nothin' like him now, am I?" He chuckled at your assumption. "If I wanted to be like him, I would've chased you out of our home the moment I saw ya."

"Mm. I suppose you're right about that," you nodded at him. You contentedly sank into his touch when he moved to cup your warm cheek in his hand. "You're nothing like him at all."

"Good to know. That's high praise comin' from you."

As another comfortable silence lingered over your tired figures, a memory of the past crossed your mind. "Do you remember that time I told your father I didn't want to marry your brother?"

That day was one he would never forget any time soon. "As clear as day."

"I nearly begged for you instead," you told him with a soft laugh.

"You should have. I would've been there beggin' right next to ya!"

"In the end, everything worked out for this beggar princess," you said with a small sigh. "Gosh, I still can't imagine myself as your brother's wife. It kinda gives me the creeps."

A bout of tender laughter left Soshiro's lips this time. He raised your hand to his face and pressed a soft kiss on your palms, near the range of calluses you had from gripping your sabre. "You don't have to imagine anything other than our future together."

You mirrored his actions and planted a similarly gentle kiss on his cold knuckles, your breath blooming warmth into his fingers. He weaved his fingers into yours, as though sharing that little glow with you "Of course. For as long as we're fighting for it."

✦ Thank you for requesting! Nothing makes me happier than writing a request I know I can work with. 🍹 You can read more about the requests I take here.

[blood-mocha-latte]

loosier ceo i have a question. what do you think happens to them after the war? me personally i always thought leckie would have to make the first move- and i also sorta see hoosier as somebody with a decently sized family that leckie would really like (and would really like him in return, especially hoosier’s mother, much to hoosier’s chagrin). so if he visited he would have a good time. anyway i had thoughts what do you think

loosier compadre i salute you. mostly because this thought has been revolving around in my head for at least four years.

love love love the sort of juxtaposition of both leckie and hoosier having Big Families and such different experiences. i'm not sure if this was what you were looking for, but i have a Snippet resembling this from The 200K Loosier WIP, so i've included it below <33

--

“Yeah.” Leckie murmured, tugging at his tie and dropping down onto the bed in the same beat. “I like them. I like her.”

Hoosier huffed, snorting a laugh. “They’re loud.” He said, grim, digging his knuckles into his thigh when kicking off his shoes made the muscle tighten. “It’ll give you a headache real quick.”

Bob leaned back against the mattress, tossing his arms out to either side of him and staring up at the ceiling. A shadow of a smile flashed across his face, warm, and Bill yawned, tossing his shoes into the corner of his room.

“Tell me about it.” Leckie told him, scrubbing a hand down his face with a huff. “I’m surprised your ma hasn’t gotten sick of the noise yet.”

Bill hesitated for half of a second before loosening his own tie, wandering past the closet and tossing his jacket on the floor absently. “Nah,” He said, “She loves it. If there wasn’t somethin’ going on, she’d start somethin’ else.”

When he looked back at the bed, Bob was smiling more fully, turning his cheek against the sheets to watch as Bill dropped down at the foot of the mattress, grimacing at his leg. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Bill said, falling onto his own back, mattress springs squeaking under him. “C’mon, your family’s bigger than mine, y’know how it is.” Bob was quiet.

“Yeah.” He muttered, thoughtful. He leaned up against the bed, hands dropping down to Bill’s shoulders, rubbing at his neck absently. “I don’t know. My ma doesn’t like noise, that much.”

Hoosier leaned back into him thoughtlessly, turning his own eyes up towards the ceiling before grimacing in protest when Bob dug to deeply into the tendons at the curve of his neck, pushing him off and turning enough to roll over onto his side, push a hand through Leckie’s hair.

“So she’d hate it here, huh?” He asked, dry, and Bob snorted, pushing a hand around his waist, the crisp lining of his undershirt becoming wrinkled as he dropped his face down to Bill’s shoulder with a yawn.

“Yeah.” He said, and faltered. “She — me, too, sometimes. I think.”

Bill remembered what Bob had told him, on Pavuvu. Half delusional and sick and nearing tired so quickly that he’d barely remembered a thing that had come out of his mouth.

She’d locked me in the closet, once. I kept asking her questions while she was cleaning the sink, I think it got on her nerves. 

“They love you here.” He said, maybe more vindictive than he should be, watching the wall, the stained wallpaper that covered it. “They all do. They think you’re a genius. You’re not, but it’s the thought that counts.”

When Leckie snorted, Hoosier could feel it against his heart. “Thanks.” He muttered, more subdued than he needed to be.

He remembered what else Bob had said and dropped his face into his curls, heavy.

Sometimes you gotta know when to be loud, at home.

[violynt-skies]

How do you think Kusuo would react when faced with the death of someone?

Say something unexpected happens. One of his friends are walking around the city and crosses the street but a car ends up running a red light and effectively kills them. It’s unpredictable, no one foresaw it occurring, and it just happens suddenly, and maybe Kusuo wasn’t aware that it happened, or was too late to prevent it.

And per Kusuo’s explanation in the episode when he turned Nendo to stone, you can’t restore someone if their dead, once they’re dead they’re dead. And of course there’s time travel but there’s all kinds of unforeseen consequences that come with that and as we already know, it doesn’t always work and give you the timeline you desire.

And don’t get me wrong I think he would absolutely try. I think he would break himself down trying to fix it. Knowing Kusuo, he often puts too much responsibility, burdens, and guilt upon himself, and even if there was nothing he could’ve done about it and it was in no way his fault, he would absolutely take it to heart and it would break him.

Because’s he’s the one with all of these omnipotent powers and he’s the one who should’ve been able to do something and he’s the only one that could’ve but he wasn’t able to and his friend is gone.

And he would end up crawling back into his shell of isolation that he spent so long breaking free of and it would probably be worse than it ever was before. And of course his friends would visit him and try to encourage him to come out but at this point he won’t hear them out, and doesn’t think he deserves to have friends, because in the beginning it was the worry of attention and hurting them but at least then he could still protect them, however now he’s convinced that he can’t, so why bother.  He doesn’t say anything about the situation to anyone, and he’s officially closed himself off from the world again.

Kusuo goes to the funeral and stands quietly in the back but quietly leaves halfway through the session and goes home because it hurts too much to watch.

And he would stay alone.

Unfortunately for him, his friends are persistent, and they would come knocking on his door all the time and Kusuo gets so frustrated with them because they just don’t get it and why won’t they leave him alone and why can’t they understand he doesn’t want to be around anyone because he can’t hurt anyone if he avoids everyone.

But they keep coming and Kusuo’s having a mental battle between telling them about his powers or not, because if he did they might be able to finally understand and get it if he told them it was all his fault and they’d finally leave him alone.

And so he does, he eventually explodes on his friends ranting and crying and finally letting out all the emotions he’s held back all this time about everything and they all stand there and watch as one of their most resolute strong-willed friends effectively crumbles before their eyes.

and it’s heart wrenching and terrible to watch because all this time he’s felt this way and he has so much on his shoulders and they never knew, and honestly how could they?

But no one should be surprised when nobody reacts with hatred like he thought possible and instead all huddle up together, everyone in tears now, with the sole goal of just comfort.

So they learn about his past and hear his stories and slowly but surely they build Kusuo back up again.

[omgeto]

☆ R U GONNA STAY THE NIGHT? — fratboy!GETO SUGURU

summary:geto suguru, 'top dog' on campus, is used to ploughing through all the ditzy little freshmen without any concern for their feelings. but now his biggest challenge, is you, and it's not getting you in his bed, its getting you to stay in it.

wc: 4k (look guys I did it)

cw: afab!reader, all types of fucking, masturbation, you ride his dick, you ride his face, he gives you like two spanks, he's kinda whiny but then at the same time not. you both think you're the boss of this situationship and you are both wrong. MDNI slight angst if you squint, or maybe angst angst idk

an: first fic in 10 days, is this what you call a comeback? idk but I hope you enjoy whatever this is I TRIED OKAY I TRIED! Also thanks bae @kazushawty for betaing some and bullying me in our chats

sleeping with a frat bro wasn’t on your to do list during your freshman year, but there is something about geto suguru that you just can’t shake. you thought that you were one of many, after hearing all the rumours about him that spread throughout campus and that didn’t phase you as long as he could get you off, you didn’t care what else he did. but little did you know he is all about you and he is finally gonna let that be known tonight.

"excuse me," a whisper brushes against your ear, a deep, low hum that sends shivers down your spine. hands press lightly on your waist, shifting you ever so slightly. you glance over your shoulder, eyebrows furrowing when you realise there is more than enough room for the person to pass. it's geto suguru, and you shoot him a withering glare.

"what's the problem?" he asks, a low chuckle escaping his lips as he observes the hard look you're giving him. but instead of answering, you simply turn away, refusing to acknowledge his presence.

geto, undeterred by your cold response, takes a step closer. his presence is magnetic, and you can feel the heat of his body inches from yours. the music pulses around you, the crowd dancing and laughing, but all you can focus on is him.

“y’know me” he leans in, his breath warm against your ear, and his voice drops to a seductive murmur. "can’t resist the opportunity to get a little closer to you."

“oh fuck off geto,” you hiss, but your words had no real bite, you move your elbow to try and deter him but his stance remains fixed behind you.

“you’re a hard woman to please,” he sighs, with mock sadness, “but as frat president i can’t have one of my party guest having a bad time at one of my parties can i?”

“maybe you just aren’t trying hard enough,” you retort quickly, finally turning around to face him head on, a teasing smirk appearing on your face, “what would you know about pleasing me?”

“i think we both know what i know about pleasing you,” he offers his hand out, “c’mon let me show you a good time.” you hesitate, seeing the spark in his eyes and he puts his hand out further, urging you to take it. you close your eyes swiftly, taking a deep breath before letting him drag you into the crowd of people.

geto hand remains a reassuring hold as he drags you through the sea of intoxicated dancers. he pulls you into him, his dick already bricked up as brings it to your ass, your turn your head and raise your eyebrow, and he flashes a smile in return his hands sliding down to hold your hips as he starts to gyrate against you. you quickly match his pace, throwing back your ass, your hips swaying in time with geto and the music.

he places his hand at the small of your back, forcing you to bend slightly, as he widens his stance and forces his body into your further. your mouth parts, at the contact, and you smile at the feeling — geto suguru actually has rhythm. he’s quick to pull you up, peppering light kisses against your face as he grinds into you.

his arm hooks around your neck in a gentle but firm hold, as he bends down to your ear, his lips whispering words only meant for you, as he continues to rub his clothed dick in the crook of your ass. geto manoeuvres his hands up and down your body, his fingers teasingly toying with your tits, as he explores all you, right on the dance floor.

you could feel the heat between your legs grow, so you pull away from geto turning around to face him, his hands coming down to hold you close to him as if he was afraid you'd run away. “not bad huh?” he asks, knowing that you feel the exact same as he does, you both didn’t even notice all the eyes on you, as the crowd of partygoers just witnessed you almost fuck on the dance floor.

before you could even respond, you could feel the wind being knocked out of you as a broad chest collides right into you. geto keeps you upright, so you don’t fall on your ass and places you behind him as he steps to the person responsible for almost knocking you over. 

as the fog of the moment clears, you see the cause of the commotion—gojo satoru, geto's best friend, is in a blissful state of drunkenness, a wide grin plastered across his face.

"heeeeyy, suguru," gojo greets loudly, his bleary eyes darting between the two of you. "is this you, yeah?" his words slur slightly, but it's clear he's trying to figure out the situation. geto doesn't respond verbally, but the subtle smirk on his face and the bashful look on yours speak volumes. "you know what we could do to make this night greater," gojo announces with an exaggerated flourish.

geto sighs, on a usual day he’s all up for entertaining his friend but tonight all he wants to do is entertain you. “what is it satoru?”

“shots!” he cheers, looking around the room to be completely ignored, in too much of a drunken state to even notice, “c’mon sugu, you love shots, you can even bring this pretty little thing you’ve got with you.” he finishes, gojo’s eyes linger on you a little too long as he sizes you up, his bottom lip pulling into his teeth and all you could do is raise your eyebrows up at him, puzzled.

“bro,” geto commands, and gojo’s eyes snap to his friends as he raises his hand in mock surrender, “just take us to the fucking shots.” the subtle tension between the two guys didn't go unnoticed by you, but you brush it off, chalking it up to frat boys being frat boys. 

it was soon forgotten anyways, with you sprawled across a table of the frat house, drunken partygoers jeering at you as your shirt is half pulled up just stopping at your breast and gojo is cheering as he’s sprinkles salt on you and lines your stomach with shots.

“care to do the honours,” gojo taunts geto as he finishes pouring the final shot. geto sends a glare his way ignoring him as he makes his way over to you, giving you a long stripe of his tongue down your stomach, before quickly downing all the shots on your stomach, his eyes stuck on you. gojo offers him a lime, which he snatches straight out of his hands. gojo tuts, shaking his head, “someones touchy.” and just to add fuel to the fire, gojo has his own lick at your stomach, more slower and sensual then geto’s was, and he pours himself a shot, giving you a wink as he drinks it.

“what the fuck man?” geto interrogates, stepping to his friend, slightly wobbling as the shots he just backed in swift succession, hit him quickly.

“what’s wrong suguru?” gojo teases with a playful grin, he wasn’t dumb he knew who you were before he even saw you, geto talks about you all the time. so when gojo finally saw you with him, with geto still downplaying how he hard he actually fucks with you, he couldn’t help but fuck with his friend a bit, “you jealous?”

“don’t even start with me ‘toru,” geto warns, and you begin to sit up with an eye roll, you couldn’t deny you were a bit tipsy, but no amount of alcohol could make you bear to see this lame exchange of fray boy bravado. 

“oh whats your issue man,” gojo brushes him off, going to pour himself another drink, but geto is hot on his tails. “bro we literally always share the hot freshmen, what makes her any different.”

“because she just is,” geto snaps, in an attempt of a hush tone but you hear him loud and clear.

“i think i’m going to go,” you say out loud, and geto hears you pausing, slightly panicked. forgetting all about gojo his focus back onto you.

“no no, you don’t have to leave, we were having a good time right?” he stammers, rushing to persuade you stay. you couldn’t deny that you were having a good time, geto suguru is actually fun to be around, and the way he was staring at you, begging for you just stay with him, hits you right in your core. he pulls you close to him as he murmurs to you, “i know you felt what i felt when we were dancing, just give me a chance and like i said earlier i could really show you a good time. if you let me.”

geto just wanted to get you alone, he could see that the heavy noise of the club was clearly not your vibe, but he couldn’t let you leave just yet. he offers out his hand just like he did at the start of the party, but this time you didn’t hesitate to take it. letting him cart you off upstairs as you both ignore that wolf whistles coming from gojo, “you better get some suguru, go and get some for the both of us!”

when you get up into geto’s room, you try to disregard the slew of people strung out in different rooms across the house. but geto was confident, he had no reason not to be with you in his arms, wanting him just as badly as he wants you.

“c’mere,” he beckons you, as he sits down, patting down his thigh. you happily skip over to him, perching yourself right on his thigh, your arms hooking around his neck, your hands clasping together, locking him in. you face inches closer to his, your lips part ready to taste him but he halts you, smirking as he says “you're cute, y’know that right?”

“how so?” you ask, entertaining him with an eye roll.

“you always sit in class with me, trying to act all bothered by my presence,” he comments, “but turns out all it takes is for you to come to one of my parties, and for you to dance with me, to get you cumming in my lap… literally.”

“are we gonna fuck?” you say bluntly, catching him off guard, “or are you gonna continue to talk nonsense.” even though he wasn’t talking nonsense, he was right, tonight really did change your perspective on geto. but you weren’t dumb he was the president of the frat, and his best friend gojo’s comments earlier only further cemented the type of people frat guys are.

you press your lips against his before he has a chance to respond, your tongue darting in his mouth as he moulds into you. one of his hands works its way down your body whilst the other stays caressing your face. you groan against him, driving yourself against his thigh, your clothed cunt, already dripping just from the friction alone. 

“you getting off on my thigh yeah?” he teases between kisses, and you nod, desperately pushing yourself into him. he hikes you up further, his lips still moving in tandem with yours, and he spreads you into lap so you could properly straddle him. you both had quick movements, both of you are needy and wanting of the other. geto’s hands slide down your back and keep your ass in a firm hold as you begin to rock against him.

geto pulls away from you, his lips already plump from the way you’ve been gnawing at them. you pout at the removal but he laughs, “patience, princess.” but you ignore him your hands darting into his pants, ready to free his dick and land it, but he places his hand on your wrist, his eyebrows raising in warning, “what did i just say?”

“to take out your dick and sit on it right?” you shrug coyly, chuckling at your joke, and he smiles, but the warning in his eyes doesn’t leave.

“strip,” he commands, the single word having you folding like a chair, as you fling off your clothes leaving you in your underwear. he pulls you by the waistband of you panties, ripping them off you in one swift motion, biting his lip as he’s met with your wet pussy. “she’s so pretty,” he comments, flicking at your clit and as he slides his finger down your slit, just about to enter he pauses, putting his finger in his mouth instead of in you. he swirls it around his tongue, “sweet.”

“suguru,” you whine, at his teasing, “this isn’t funny.”

“play with yourself,” he says, disregarding whatever you were saying.

“what happened to you giving me a good time,” you argue.

“c’mon show me how bad you want it,” he persuades with a grin, leaning back, waiting for you to put on a show for him, “i’ll make it worth your while.”

despite everything, you could just never tell geto, no. it’s the way he looks at you, the way he talks to you, how he carries himself. with how he is just leaning back in his bed, his eyes low in anticipation as he waits for you to pleasure yourself for him, exciting you to do whatever he wants.

your hand works its way down to your pussy, your thumb landing on your clit rubbing against it as your finger part your sobbing cunt, letting geto see how wet you really are for him. “f-fuck,” you moan out, as you push your fingers inside of you, your eyes clenching shut at the contact.

“oi,” geto calls out to you, your eyes opening and landing on him, “keep your eyes on me. okay?” and you nod, as you quicken your pace, watching as geto palms his dick at your performance.

“this is boring,” you complain as you continue to rub at your pussy, trying your best to reach your climax on your own, “need your fingers, need your di—”

“keep going,” he orders, smirking, he could tell by the way your stance weakens and your legs tremble, that you were close. you were predictable and even though you were hungry for his dick, he knew you’d be able to cum with just your fingers and his eyes on you. call him cocky, but the influence he had over you was unmatched.

you roll your eyes at him, but you listen, continuing to finger yourself as he told you. your mouth parts, and you exhale feeling yourself about to cum, you push your digits in you harder, and your eyes stay fixated on geto and he shrugs his shoulders letting you do as you please—for once. you moan loudly as you cum all over your fingers, releasing hard as you spill out all down your thighs.

“see wasn’t so hard was it?” he taunts, pulling out his dick that has been hard from the moment he saw you at the party. he gives it a few strokes, pre cum oozing from the tip and you hungrily pounce on him, your pussy still dripping with your cum as you hover over his dick. you pause before sliding down on him, hissing at the feeling of you stretching you wide. “fuck man,” he groans out as he feels you clench over him, “your shit’s so tight.”

you bounce up and down on him, as he thrusts up into you, his hips hitting yours in a hard flurry of repeated connections. you press your hands flat on his chest, as his hands stay cupping your ass, keeping you upright as he drills into you.

his pace is unmatched, as you try and keep up, grinding your pussy down on him, desperate to have him stuff you up even more. “sugu ‘ts too much, f-fuck you’re relentless.”

“c-cant help it,” he stammers, still maintaining his merciless strokes, his dick twitching inside of you, “your pussy is just too good, or should i say my pussy,” he finishes with a wink. 

“y-your pussy?” you retort, laughing at his seriousness.

“yeah it’s mine right?” he interrogates, sending a slap to your ass to prompt further confirmation, “tell me it’s mine.” you don’t respond, a teasing smile spreading across your face, as you stare down at him, still riding his dick. but geto pauses, halting your movements and he slightly eases you up off of his dick, “what was that?” he prompts.

“it’s yours,” you give in quickly, not even bothering to entertain it any further with how needy you are to cum, “of course it's yours.” satisfied, geto charges his dick back into you with no warning, and you immediately go back to pushing your ass down on him, spreading your legs wider to straddle him more, taking him in deeper.

“t-that’s all i needed to hear,” he stutters, feeling himself about to cum, so he gives you a few sloppy thrusts before easing you off of him, cumming all over your stomach. you're quick to follow, your cum spraying his sheets, as you slump over him, dripping down on his body. “i made sure to not cum in you this time, i know how angsty you get over that shi.”

“oh how gentlemanly of you,” you deadpan, “all gives love a stomach covered in salt and semen.”

“well what would you prefer? your pussy filled with my cum,” he taunts, smirking as you still, “i know i would.” you didn’t answer pulling your sticky body away from his, as you come down off of your high.

“are you gonna stay the night?” geto asks with a grin it was like clockwork, everytime you finish fucking he’d always ask the same question, never getting bored when you mutter the same tired words.

“you know i don’t sleep in frat houses suguru.”

he shrugs casually, propping himself up on his elbows and admiring your naked figure. "you fuck in them though," he remarks, as if that justified everything, "so what's the difference?"

rolling your eyes, as you begin to do the laborious task of trying to locate your underwear—geto always had the habit of throwing them across the room. "the difference is," you pause, looking over your shoulder at him, "I can wake up tomorrow in my own bed, feeling just a little less gross for even fucking you in the first place."

a mock expression of hurt crosses his face as he crawls up behind you on the bed, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. "oh, how you wound me, princess," he coos, his breath sending shivers down your spine, "just stay."

“no, i shouldn’t” you argue, letting out an exhale as his lips attach to your collarbone, sucking against your skin, pulling and nipping at it with his teeth. 

you try to distract yourself by putting on your bra but geto is quick to fling it off you, his mouth trailing down to your tits peppering kisses all over your nipples, murmuring “stay” between each kiss. 

he takes your boob into his mouth, sucking on its flesh as his other hand toys with the other, massaging your nipples with just enough roughness to have you writhing in his palms. your back arches involuntarily, your tits pushing further into his touch, aching to feel him further, “see,” he smirks as he toys with you, “you do wanna stay.”

“i won’t, if you keep talking” you warn, gritting your teeth as he pinches your nipples, rolling them between his fingers. “now c’mere, convince me on why i should stay,” you lift his head off your tits with your fingers, eyeing him down as he stares back at you with pure lust in his eyes. you press a kiss to his lips before steering his head down towards your pussy.

“since when do you run things?” he doesn’t budge, his eyebrows slightly raise as he chuckles.

“you’re the one that wants me to stay, no?” you counter, your eyes locked with his.

“well what i want is for you to come sit on my face and my head can stay sandwiched between your thighs, how about that?” his grin widens as your mouth parts, speechless. he tugs you by the arm close to the head of the bed, you climb up his body your pussy still wet from he fucked you before, leaking out your juices all over his chest. “so hop on girl, a man’s gotta eat,” he mutters impatiently, smacking your ass to urge you onto his lips.

he takes you in hungrily, his mouth enclosing on your pussy with such greed that he is practically drowning in your scent. he laps at your cunt, his tongue giving such long, deep strokes which have your hands pressing against the walls, grinding down on his face. 

geto grips and claws at your ass, he grins, his nose burying into your pussy as your thighs clench tighter around his head. “s-sshit suguru,” your hands slap against the wall as you squeal out, trying to grasp at something to keep you afloat, as the way geto is working your pussy and how his fingers dig into your ass cheeks, has you buckling over about to topple off of him. 

he hums against your pussy, the vibrations jolting right through you, having you moan even louder. his tongue darts against your clit, swirling at it vigorously, nipping at it lightly with his teeth. 

“sugu i—” you pant, trying to ease off of him, the pleasure getting too much for you, but his hands stroke both your thighs keeping them in place. “bout to cum sugu.”

you could hear him mumble something, you didn’t care what, but the two taps he gave to your thigh let you know you could release all over him. you cry out as you cum, feeling yourself spill out all over his face. geto continues to eat you up, drinking in everything he can take, his chin getting covered by what he couldn’t swallow.

 “you are way too good at that.” you gasp as you slowly come up off his face, your breathing still laboured.

“only the best for you princess,” he jests with his eyes half open, a blissful smile on his lips as his tongue swipes at the remains of you left on his face.

“yeah me and all the other freshmen you fuck,” you mutter, to yourself but he heard you loud and clear.

“what was that?” he urges, wanting you to repeat your claims. before you started fucking geto, you knew he was and what he was about and technically you didn’t care, you only wanted him for his mouth game—which proved to be very useful. but when he tries to sweet talk you you couldn’t help but be reminded of what kind of guy he is.

“i think you heard me,” you shrug, “i’m saying it to insult you or anything, i'm just telling the truth. you like to fuck everbody and everything.”

“wait? is this why you won’t stay the night?” he says, sitting up, staring you down. 

“you must be only a pretty face, if you thought otherwise,” you laugh at his shock.

“no it’s just i think its crazy that you just won’t stay,” he complains, glaring at you as you put back on your clothes, “we could get to know each other properly.”

“like we agreed when we first started messing around,” you cringe, pitying the pouty look on his face. “let’s just… keep this casual”

“but that was ages ago,” he tries to reason, “some may say you’re just using me for sex.”

“suguru we use each other for sex,” you respond quickly, you step towards him pressing a peck on his pouty lips, with a smirk on your face as you see his lips chasing yours as you pull away, “well i'm gonna go now, i’m sure i’ll see you at one of your many lame parties you and your people always throw. it’s been fun as always” geto raises his eyebrows in acknowledgement, blowing out a hard breath, as he watches you strut out of his bedroom.

“she’ll stay the night eventually.” he murmurs to himself, maybe it’s wishful thinking, but a guy can dream.

AN: she’s only gone and done it. but yeah how was it guys 🥺? There’s only two lines in this whole fic that I actually thought “damn I cooked here” if you guess the lines you win a reward. ALSO IDK WHY I WAS DROPPING HINTS AT SOME GOJO ON SOME MR STEAL UR GIRL TYPE SHIT but I just went with it. But geto is sooo sweet HE JUST WANTS U TO STAY and you don’t even fuckinnn stay 😭😭 looool aren’t u mean. Technically I wrote the fic backwards it was meant to start with the “r u gonna stay the night” AND then gojo and geto would have a a conversation about you AND the it would end w the party and u tucking but I wanted to keep if one continuous flow and ANYWAYS this an is becoming a diary entry so LMK UR THOUGHTS PLEASE CAUSE THIS HAD ME STRETCHED

[januaryembrs]

YOU WERE LIKE AN ANGEL TO ME | Spencer Reid x Sunshine!Reader

Request: my DARLING @avis-writeshq says- i’m a menace but i ADORED the spencer fic u posted 🥹 UGH THEYRE SO CUTE YOUR HONOURRRR 👹if it’s okay, may i request another fic with the same couple 🙈 perhaps one day reader is not as sweet or chirpy as she usually is, or she gets injured or threatened in the field? much love and lots of kisses xoxo 🫶

Description: Spencer swore he wanted to hate her. She was too happy, too chirpy, too much for a guy who spent months rotting in prison. But how could he ever hate her when she cried in his chest like that?

Length: 5k (I'm feral for these two)

warnings: post prison reid. Angst. depiction of suicide from the Unsub. gory language used. guns mentioned. mention of $nuff video and other murders. Nothing that hasn't been done on CM already.

authors note: if y'all want to see more with these two just SAY because I am all ears I would die on this ship

There were a lot of times in his time at the BAU that Spencer had wished he could have changed the outcome of their bad guy, surprisingly enough. There was the time they found their UnSub a few minutes too late, and one of the victims fathers decided to take him out then and there with a shotgun to the head. He was just a kid. There was the entire time he was with Tobias Hankel, and he lived in a state of both fear and sympathy for the boy trapped in his own body after years of abuse. There was Nathan Harris, the kid who had stopped him at the subway station and practically begged him for help to stop his urges to murder, only to slit his own wrists before Spencer could get to him because he thought he was tainted. 

He could see how it was easy in their job to get wrapped up in saving the day, in saving everyone they could. He just had hoped, on some stupid grace of a god he didn’t even believe in, that she would have at least remained untouched by the bad luck. 

Spencer had always thought, since the first day he had arrived back into the office after his stint in prison, that she seemed to just waltz through life easier than anyone else. He knew the concept of luck was not quantifiable, that it was just a coincidence that good things happened to some people, and bad things happened to others. He always grouped himself in with the latter, because what was his entire life if not one bad hand of cards after another?

Part of him had been seething with vitriol jealousy when he first met her. He hated how the elevator doors seemed to open without hesitation for her, no waiting required. He hated how her hair never seemed to fall out of place, while his required primping and preening to upkeep. He hated how she was always so happy, whether it had been she’d been given an extra cookie at the bakery for free, or her coffee had just tasted super delicious that morning, or the road works clogging the city had been put on hold the one day she needed to drive into the office. She was one of those people, he had decided, that life just seemed to smile down upon, and she beamed back in that dazzling grin. 

He felt sick to his stomach for ever wishing it gone, especially when she looked like she might never smile again. 

They never liked to say that they had easy cases and hard ones, all of their cases were difficult to process. But this one had been a handful above the rest. 

“UnSub has been killed on site, all units stand down,” Luke said into the radio, and the entire squadron took a sigh of relief, all of them except him. 

Because he saw that look in her eye, the way everything sparkly about her seemed to have vanished.

They had been following Bobbie Wrids for a week. Five bodies in, five men shot between the eyes execution style, almost six by the time they’d arrived on the scene. 

She’d gone with Tara around the front of the abandoned building; Penelope tracked their newest victim, Henry Frond, through his phone pinging off the nearest satellite towers, and it had been straight forward from there. Or at least it should have been. 

Because by the time Spencer and Luke arrived in their own SUV, Penelope had time to access the rest of Henry’s phone, and it was clear to see the victimology behind all six men. 

They were distributing snuff videos of women, some between themselves, some to other usernames on the darkweb, and Bobbie Wrids’ daughter had been one of them.

Bobbie had become somewhat of a vigilante, but he was a grieving father above all. He was a wounded animal chomping at the bit to soothe the ripping pain of his daughter's murder, the same one those men were getting off to. 

Tara and her exchanged a glance as Penelope relayed the information over their headsets, her once serious expression falling into something sombre and sorrowful. How could she arrest a man she couldn’t help but feel sorry for, one she couldn’t help but think wasn’t entirely wrong in his actions. 

“Bobbie Wrids,” Tara’s voice was stern, cutting through the silence of the desolate building. Their footsteps were careful as they made their way through the hallway, down to what had once been a rec-room, or perhaps a staff room, where they knew Bobbie had Henry, “This is the FBI, we’d like to talk,” 

They heard nothing, and she looked up to the older woman hesitantly, her finger hovering over the trigger the way Spencer had taught her. Tara took a minute, knowing she was leading the charge here with the girl being so inexperienced, before she nodded to the door knob and the rookie twisted the handle, pushing the peeling wood open gently. 

Bobbie Wrids stood in the centre of the room, moth eaten couches either side of the damp rug, the ceiling tiles half caved in from wear and tear. Henry Frond was already a pulp in the UnSub’s arms, and yet it was Bobbie that her eyes shot to first, sympathy shooting through every fibre of her being when she saw the distraught look on the father’s face. 

He was grieving. He was grieving his little girl’s death. He was looking for a solution, and this seemed to be his best bet. 

“Bobbie,” Her voice was shaky, her and Tara frozen in the doorway as the man brought the pistol to Henry’s beaten face, cocking it towards his temple before they could even explain themselves. “We’re going to come in, is that okay? We just want to talk, just let us talk-”

They had only edged closer by three paces between them as she was speaking before his knuckles turned white and he squeezed the gun tighter to Henry’s skin, the barrel contorting the flesh, “Don’t come any closer, this pig isn���t worth your mercy,”

“We know,” She said, her and Tara slowly stepping over a fallen ceiling tile, cracking under her boot as she met his desolate gaze for the first time, his head snapping to her. “We know what he did, Bobbie. What they all did.”

His throat bobbed, his bottom lip quivering and the sight of it, a man so broken, forced a frog into her oesophagus, and she willed herself not to cry. 

“They hurt my little girl,” Bobbie choked out, his face turning mauve as the tears began to build behind his eyes, “She was my girl. She was only eighteen.” 

She nodded, his wetted hues seemingly permissive when she stepped closer to where he held Henry hostage. 

“I know, I’m so sorry for what happened to her,” She said, her voice croaky, unstable as she wrenched it into something audible, “I’m so sorry,” 

“He doesn’t deserve mercy, none of them did,” Bobbie spat, his forearm crushing against Henry’s trachea in a vice-like grip. The man floundered, a wheeze coming from his lungs, not that she felt much sympathy for him. 

She sprung into action, flicking her gun onto safety and holstering it, Tara doing the same as she lowered her weapon to her side. He profiled as a vigilante; he had no reason to hurt them. 

“Bobbie, listen, I know they didn’t deserve to walk free, okay?” She said, taking the smallest step towards where the men stood, “But she wouldn’t want this for you, would she?”

The man flinched, his jaw hard as a rock with how he clenched his teeth together, as if holding back a sob. 

“Come on, Bobbie. Let him go, we have enough evidence to get him sentenced. We can get you a plea deal, I know a good lawyer,” She begged, because she wasn’t beneath it, because she knew he was a good man backed into a corner, “Please,”

Maybe it was the way her eyes were soft when she looked at him, or the fact two more agents burst into the room from the hallway, Spencer’s eye immediately falling to where she was stood so close to their UnSub, her gun out of hand. Tara stood by, but that wasn’t good enough for him. He edged with light footsteps until he was behind her, his gaze cautious, never leaving the gun in Bobbie’s hand. 

“Please,” She repeated, and Spencer saw Bobbie’s shoulders drop, every sliver of resolve draining from his body at her gentle tone, a deer approaching a hunter. 

Henry was thrown to the floor, the man practically dead weight as he gasped, almost retching at the feeling of air sucking back into his chest frantically, and Luke and Tara were quick to wrestle him into cuffs, the woman reading him his Miranda rights. 

Spencer almost made a grab for her then, because she was still creeping forward towards the man who had a loaded gun still live in his hand. He didn’t care for one second that the statistics said Bobbie wouldn’t lay a hand on her since she wasn’t part of his list. He didn’t care that every sign pointed to their UnSub being benevolent towards women, especially younger ones, that she fit his daughter’s description. Spencer didn’t care, he wanted her as far away from that gun as possible. 

His heart lurched into his throat when Bobbie did in fact make a lunge for her, just not the way he’d feared. Because she had grabbed him. She’d pulled him into an embrace, a hug, kind and sweet as she always was. 

Spencer cursed her for being so soft. It was going to get her killed. 

“Agent,” His voice was terse, worried if you dug a little deeper than the sharp surface, but she didn’t listen to him. She held Bobbie tight as the man unravelled on her shoulder, falling into heart breaking sobs and it was then Spencer realised she was crying with him. 

“It’s going to be okay, you’re okay,” She was shushing him, the killer, reassuring him he was safe, as if the killing thing wasn’t still between his fingers that clutched at her back with rough hands. 

“They killed my girl, they took her from me, and then they laughed about it,” He wailed, and she nodded, squeezing him even tighter if that was so possible, “No one would listen, the police didn’t listen, I had to do something,”

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry,” This was wrong. She wasn’t supposed to be sympathising with the criminals. But she couldn’t help it, she couldn’t help the gasping urge to comfort the man who had lost his whole world, “I’m listening. Tell me about her,” 

“She was so beautiful,” Bobbie whimpered, sniffling into her shoulder. Spencer felt his chest twinge at the scene. He hated that she was so soft. “She never hurt a soul,”

She cried with him, though hers were choked down as much as she could get them, her wet cheeks the only proof she had ever let them slip. 

“I’m sorry,” She said again, because no matter how many times she repeated those two little words, it would never bring his daughter back, “I can help you,”

He pulled away from her shoulder, and it was only then that Bobbie Wrids even noticed Spencer, his face taut in anxiety as he watched the man’s hands still holding onto her body as if she was the only thing that kept him upright, which Spencer wouldn’t be surprised if it were true. 

He fished the cuffs out of his back pocket, his finger never leaving the trigger as he stared down at their UnSub cautiously. He knew he may be being cruel, knew that ten years ago he would be just as caring as her. But that Spencer was long gone. And what remained was screaming in terror that she was in the line of danger, that she was holding the danger in her bare hands like she didn’t see the jeopardy she was putting herself in. 

Bobbie pulled away to look at her, the creases around his eyes deep chasms, and even with the smattering of grey hair, the stubble, the cold, empty look of someone with nothing left, she thought he might have been a handsome man once. He looked at her with a ghost of a smile, and one of his callused hands came up to tuck her hair behind her ear as if it had been second nature to him for eighteen years. 

“You’re a sweet girl,” He murmured, and she blinked at him, her chest easing at the way his wails had subsided into something quiet. She could help him, she swore she would help him. He was a good man beneath it all. “But no one can help me anymore, sweet girl,”

And with that he lifted the pistol beneath his chin and pulled the trigger.

—

She heard someone scream before she realised it was coming from her own throat, but her ears were ringing and she couldn’t open her eyes. Her face was wet and hot, and for a second she thought it was tears, but she was beyond crying now. She felt arms pulling her back into a strong chest, and someone was murmuring to her, or perhaps they were speaking normally and the sound of the gunshot had knocked her hearing. Either way, it was like someone had pulled a bag over her head as she brought her shaking hands up to her eyes to wipe. 

She managed to crack her lids then when the sludge was gone, only to see the room still a blurry mess. She could make out, in the haze of blobs and crimson tint, Bobbie’s body slumped to the floor, a dark puddle seeping into the rug as those long arms tugged her out of the room. She only then looked down to her hands where she had rubbed her face and she caught the same claret plasma coating her fingers, her white shirt, her pants, her arms. It covered her head to toe. 

It was in her eyes, she realised when she saw the ichor coating her fingertips. It was blocking her vision, turning the world a vivid wine colour, and she thinks she whimpered, or perhaps it was a moan of horror seeing the puddle beneath Bobbie’s body growing larger by the second. 

“I don’t understand,” She said out loud, her head spinning, and she brought her fingertips up to her eyes again, maybe to get the blood out, god there was so much blood on her face, or maybe because she hoped to everything out there that she would clear her sight and find it all a terrible hallucination, the product of one too many nights of sleepless tossing. 

But when she rubbed her lids again, this time seeing the scene a little better, Bobbie was still dead. She had still been too late. 

“You’re in shock, you need to breathe,” A voice instructed her over her shoulder, and it was from the same person who had their hands around her waist, pulling her away from the crime scene, as CSI filed in from behind them. 

She tried pushing the arms off her, weak because she couldn’t feel anything that wasn’t the horror in her stomach, and it took her a second before she listened to their words and realised she was holding a breath in her chest, the way a toddler does when they’re overwhelmed. 

“I don’t-” She gasped, the air rushing through her lungs, so fast it made her cough, “I don’t understand, I was going to help him- I don’t understand- why?”

“I know, just breathe for me, sweetheart,” Spencer. She only just realised it was Spencer speaking, because he had never called her that and the gentle tone he’d taken was nothing like his usual, civil cadence. He had been dropping a few jokes the past few weeks since she’d driven him home, had been more touchy feely with correcting her form when she was at the shooting range, had delicately touched the small of her back when they were navigating a crowd together. He was slowly cracking from his statuesque expression that hadn’t left his face since he’d gotten out of prison, but the softness with which he held her waist was entirely new. 

“Spencer, I don’t- I don’t get it,” She said, her voice bubbling into a sob as she allowed herself to be pulled away with no fight left in her. He took her into the hallway, turning her body from the sight of his hand lifeless on the floor with little to no effort. She was damn near limp in his arms, “Spencer, I don’t under-understand, I was going to h-help him, why would h-he do that-”

“Shhh, you need to breathe,” He murmured into her hair, trying to lead her out the front of the building and far away from where she’d just been front row seats to a messy suicide, “Come on, just breathe for me, baby, and then we can talk,”

But she wasn’t listening, and he wasn’t offended. Spencer knew it was the shock. He knew the symptoms by how her respiratory system had picked up in a matter of seconds and it was like she had gone from zero to a hundred. She let out a long whine, tears collecting the blood on her lash line and her chest seized into action, gulping down air, too short to do anything for her lungs, and her legs began to buckle beneath the two of them. 

Spencer stopped in the hallway, realising she was in more shock than he must have thought. He knew she was sensitive, hell it was one of his favourite things about her. He knew she felt everything so deeply, burned too easily, like a daisy wilting in a dry heat, or candyfloss melting in his mouth. Spencer knew, as awful as watching death up close was for any agent, it would hit her hardest of all of them. 

He moved around to her front, his hands migrating from her waist up to her shoulders, brushing over her upper arms soothingly. But her body felt numb, her head felt heavy, and her eyes were glazed over, down a rabbit hole entirely away from him, even when one of his hands cupped her wetted cheek gently. 

“Just breathe, hey, look at me,” He tried a firmer tone, and she bent to his will too easily. It was a punch in the gut seeing everything shining and pretty leached out of her eyes, as if she had become soulless in a matter of minutes, as if she had lost all hope in the world the second Bobbie pulled that trigger. She looked like hell, blood still fresh on her cheeks, in her hair, smeared around her eye sockets where she had scrubbed so hard to get it off her skin, “You need to calm down, you’re going to faint if you don’t breathe,”

She nodded, or something close to it, her eyes falling down to the floor, and she seemed to wrestle for control over her chest then. But what came after was worse, Spencer thought. Her brows screwed together, her eyes welling up with more of those fat tears, and her lips dropping into a devastated pout, her eyes trailing over the mess on her uniform, on her hands. 

“Spencer, I don’t understand, I tried to help him, I wanted to help him,” She sobbed, sniffling to herself miserably, and he barely even thought about it when he pulled her into his chest, not caring that her skin would dirty his shirt. 

His hand wound into her hair, stroking her sweetly as she buried her wails into his vest. He used his other arm to pull her close to him, which she seemed to have zero qualms about as she clawed at his back to keep him close, as if she didn’t want to face what was going to happen when they left that building. 

Spencer regretted ever thinking her sunshine was too bright for him. 

–

She hadn’t smiled in a whole week. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She had given Penny a very forced smile when she had fussed over the younger woman the first day she got back, had said thankyou with downcast eyes and a fragile grin when the blonde presented her with a framed picture of a puppy to keep on her desk ‘incase she needed something nice to think about,’

She hadn’t looked at it once, because they both knew it wouldn’t do anything, no matter how much she pretended for Penelope’s sake that she would put it to good use. 

He had taken her out for coffee on him that first day, but by the time they had got to the front of the queue, he had been doing almost all of the talking, which had become rare nowadays since he had come home from Mexico. Usually, it had been her filling the silences, because he knew in her right mind she hated the sound of static nothingness, she found it awkward and unnecessary when she could talk to anyone without thinking about it too hard. 

They had got to the desk, the barista smiling up at him as he ordered his usual, before he turned to look at her as the woman serving asked her what she would like. But she wasn’t listening, she was watching out the window, nothing particularly invigorating beside a bird cleaning its feathers on top of a stop sign. 

He said her name, putting his hand on her back and her head whipped around, her eyes empty as they looked up at him expectantly, “What do you want to drink?” 

She blinked, waking herself from a stupor, and looked at the barista with an embarrassed expression, “Hot chocolate, please,” 

And that was all she really had to say until lunch rolled around, and she excused herself to head home early. Emily smiled at her reassuringly, her eyes wary as she watched their happy-go-lucky rookie head for the elevators with a desolate look in her eyes. 

Spencer hoped she would come around on her own, or maybe even be brave enough to talk to someone about the thoughts rattling around that head of hers, but she just didn’t. She stayed as silent as possible, only ever speaking when spoken to, asking Emily if she could finish off her reports at home, to which the Prentiss woman never protested. 

But Spencer had had enough. He’d worried himself sick over her, and where all thoughts of how endearing and lovely and charming she was had sat in his head before, now it was all just ways he could think to make her smile again. 

It was the following Tuesday by the time he braved action. She had gone home after their midday briefing, apologising to Emily with tired eyes that seemed to be growing more and more heavy by the day, like she hadn’t slept a wink in a fortnight. Which Spencer thought was entirely possible. 

He pulled up to the house Penelope had not so discreetly told him was hers, definitely not because he’d asked, and definitely, definitely not breaching any human resource policies about distributing fellow workers information (meaning Spencer had almost certainly not begged Penelope for the address with those puppy eyes of his he knew could bag him anything). 

The peonies in the window bays were wilting but her house was something out of a fairytale. He wasn’t sure why he was really so surprised. It screamed her, everything about it, from the toadstool post box to the little green, cast iron bench that sat in the garden, the metal forged to look like florets of ivy holding the sitter upright. 

He rapped the brass knocker, the metal cold under his long fingers. Brushing invisible dirt off his shirt, he hoped she would answer as the present squirmed at his feet. 

“Just a second,” He hushed, and as if she heard him, the front door swung open to reveal her bare face he hadn’t seen since he’d helped her wipe the blood from her skin in the back of the ambulance. 

She looked at him with furrowed brows, before they quickly shot to the floor, to her cobbled pathway that had clicked under his shoes, and her face washed with a shock. 

“Oh my god, Spencer!” She crouched to her knees, a slobbery lick immediately meeting her cheek as the Spaniel rubbed his wet nose up to her ear, sniffing her unique smell, as if it was a bag of Class A’s, “I never knew you had a dog,” 

“I don’t,” He replied, kneeling with her to ruffle the soft fur behind the canine’s ear, “This is Ace. He retired from the Bomb Unit a month ago and Penelope sent me his handler’s number. They said he’s the happiest dog in the world,” 

 “I would be too if I stopped so many people from blowing up,” She said, but before he could ask what she meant exactly by that, Ace had jumped up and attacked her entire face with kisses as if he too thought that statement was worth silencing. 

And she laughed. She laughed louder than she had in days, weeks, her eyes crinkling in joy as the little pink tongue stole away her sorrow, tickled away the traces of the blood that had tainted her skin. 

Spencer smiled, his eyes watching her face scrunch in a squeal, hands eventually coming up to the elderly dog’s jowls to gently push him down. 

“Oh, you are the sweetest guy,” She said, and the words had him tugging at the leash to lick her all over again, “Yes you are, you’re the sweetest little guy around, huh?” 

She chuckled, scratching down the mutt’s neck, and her eyes flicked back up to Spencer, who watched her with more intent than she’d realised. 

“Petting and receiving affection from pets causes spikes in serotonin in our brain and reduces anxiety, did you know that?” Spencer said, Ace pushing his muzzle into the palm of her hand to prove a point. 

Her smile wavered slightly, and she looked at his hazel hues that seemed to see right through her, “Look, I’m sorry I’ve been so off lately, I just can’t sleep at the moment-”

 “Don’t apologise,” He cut in, though his tone was kind, and the two of them stood back up to their full height, “What happened was horrifying, even some of the longest serving agents I know would struggle seeing that,” 

She scoffed, unusually pessimistic coming out of her mouth, “You wouldn’t,”

His head tilted, not quite understanding what she meant, because she hadn’t sounded cruel when she said it. Then again, he didn’t think she was actually capable of that emotion. 

She looked at him, a flash of something vulnerable in her eyes, something like that day he’d held her in the hallway; too fast he almost missed it.

“You’re so brave, Spencer, you’re like invincible. I mean, you survived prison and your mom getting kidnapped and you bounced straight back to work like it was nothing. I can’t even watch a murderer die without spiralling out of control,” She huffed, rubbing the bridge of her nose and before he could respond on just how wrong she was, before he could tell her that that was exactly the opposite of what had happened because he had damn near changed every inch of himself in prison to stop himself from breaking, he caught her murmuring and he thought he might just have been punched all over again, “I wish I was like you,”

His jaw clenched, eyebrows furrowing into a frown as he stepped towards her, and her head shot to him, worried she may have said the wrong thing by mentioning everything that had happened, everything Pen had specifically said was a touchy subject, and she opened her mouth to apologise. 

“Do you know how unbelievably glad I am that you are nothing like me?” Spencer said, his voice bordering on furious and her fumbled for a reply, worried she had truly pissed him off. 

She wouldn’t blame him for hating her. She’d always worried, until perhaps that day they’d gotten into her car and she’d driven him home, that her very essence annoyed him. 

“I’m sorry-” She started, but he shook his head.

“Stop apologising,” He said, his hand reaching up to grab where her fingers tugged together nervously, his hold featherlike, his face softening when he saw her expression, “I don’t want you to be anything like me. I like you just how you are,” 

She sighed, eyes doe like with emotion as she looked at him, “Really?”

He smiled, a rare and genuine smile as she seemed to glow under his words, “Yes, really.” Spencer allowed himself to enjoy the way that the twinkle returned to her expression when he smiled at her with something almost like the old Spencer in him, before he cleared his throat, “We all like you. Everyone on the team likes how you are,”

She paused, nodding to herself as if knocking herself out of a silly daze, and Ace bounced on his hind legs trying to get her attention again. 

“You don’t think I’m too sensitive?” She asked, holding her palm out for the dog to nuzzle at with that wet nose of his. 

Spencer shook his head, “Sensitive is good. It means you feel something. Means you feel the good things deeper too,” 

Her smile was blinding, because she’d never thought of it that way before, and she looked like her old self again. Spencer wasn’t stupid enough to think she was never going to think about Bobbie again, he still thought about that first UnSub he’d tried to save. He still thought about Tobias Hankel. He thought about them all. 

But he was going to make sure she never turned into him. He didn’t think he’d ever forgive himself if she did. He’d protect her sunlight even if it burned him to know he could never have her the way he wanted. Because she was everything good, and he was him. 

She looked down at Ace, the life returning to her as she stood aside for the two of them to enter her house, “Tea?”

Yep. Spencer felt something run hot knowing she would always be out of reach. Didn’t stop him from thinking about it, though. 

[13lov]

tethered. | jjk

Love notes were slipped into your locker on a daily basis. Variations of messy, boyish handwriting on yellow sticky notes stacked upon themselves by the end of each school day. Every Friday night you were invited out with the promise of "You'll have fun, just give it a chance."

You could have any guy you wanted, no doubt about it. Yet somehow, the only one you do want is the tattooed, gothic one that lives a few doors down from your best friend.

✰ pairing. — emo!jk x reader

✰ genre. — early 2000s au, best friend's older brother, childhood friends to lovers, smut, light angst.

✰ word count. — 7k+

✰ warnings. — swearing, family issues, partying, mentions of drinking/drugs, friendship betrayel (?), smut [virginity loss, teasing, fingering, soft dom!jk, "i've waited so long for this" type shit], reader and jk are both 18+, minors dni.

✰ a/n. really love this pairings and would love to have drabbles with them in the future, so pls lmk if u guys would be interested in that! thanks for all the love on the teaser, hope u enjoy! &lt;3

✰ taglist. @ahgasegotarmy116 @hellbornsworld @kissyfacekoo @littlestarstinyseven @skzthinker

Two monumental events had been etched into your brain for eternity, the first being sneaking out in the middle of the night to meet up with your friends at the community pool. The second is fifteen minutes upon arriving at the pool, seeing your best friend's older brother emerge from the chlorine-scented water as if he were Poseidon and realizing you were utterly infatuated by him. 

Jeon Somi isn't blind to this, immediately pulling you away from the crowd to question the longing gaze on your face. "Out of every fucking guy here with us, you're making eyes at my brother? You do know that Jungkook is completely gross, right?" She was so furious, you're surprised no steam was blowing from her ears.

Deny it all you want (and you certainly did within that fifteen-minute interrogation); Jungkook very clearly had a hold on you that lasted many years following that fateful night. He wasn't even your usual type; he wouldn't be caught dead around the guys you're typically drawn to. He had a rebellious side; maybe that's why getting him out of your head was nearly impossible. 

Of course, the eternal guilt of falling for your best friend's older, dumbass brother is also difficult to get out of your head.

It can't be helped, really. Anytime you'd visit their home, your eyes would automatically wander through the crack of his doorway as you'd pass by. Whether he was messily cutting his dark hair while blasting Pierce the Veil from his speakers or giving himself a new Stick-and-Poke tattoo as he waited for a CD to finish burning, you long to break away from Somi for a moment to speak to him. Ask him about his day or if his band had any upcoming gigs. You'd even talk to him about paint drying if it meant you'd get to be in the same space as him. 

So it's safe to say you were completely heartbroken when he left for college. Somi, however, is over the moon. Or so you think.

"… He's your brother, though. You don't think you're gonna miss him at all?" You ask, watching Somi delicately paint your fingernails a pretty shade of purple.

She shrugs, "I mean… it's definitely gonna be weird not seeing him around the house every day, but he'll still visit sometimes. Maybe."

Deep down, Somi knows Jungkook won't visit much. He'd been craving freedom and independence from their parents for ages, and moving away for college gave him the perfect opportunity to live as he pleased. They weren't fond of the clothes he wore or the friends he had, and absolutely couldn't bear the music his band makes. They criticized every little thing about him, and he'd finally be getting a break from them.

As you're about to ask Somi if she's okay, she stands from her bed, screwing the nail polish closed. "I'll be back. I have to let Bam out." Her voice is shaky, and she doesn't look at you as she exits the room.

You take the opportunity to make your way down the hall and to Jungkook's door, which he has conveniently left wide open as he scrolls on his desktop. His knees are pressed against his chest as he's heavily focused on editing his Facebook page. There's a rock song playing lightly from another tab that you can't quite identify; he uses his free hand to gently tap along to the beat of the music.

His room is covered in cardboard boxes, soon to be packed into his parents' minivan and making their way to the University of San Francisco dorms.

Your knuckles tap on his wooden door, your heart fluttering when he turns around, and you realize he's changed the ring on his lip from black to silver.

He nods at you, "What's up?"

"Nothing. I just know you're leaving in the morning, and I wanted to say bye. And wish you good luck, of course." You're not sure why you're so heartbroken. It's not like the two of you were ever a thing. It's not like this would be your last time seeing him. Why were you so upset?

"Cool, thanks." You assume that was his way of indirectly telling you to get out until he reaches into his desk drawer and says, "Catch," before tossing something towards you.

Careful not to mess up your manicure, you easily catch the item, unfolding what appears to be a purple bandanna. "What's this for?" You ask, inspecting the material in your palms.

"To remember me by, duh. Plus, it matches your nails.”

It'd be silly to tell him you genuinely don't need this because there was no way in hell you could ever forget about him. Instead, you clutch the bandana tightly in your fist and make a silent vow to keep it with you at all times; have a piece of him with you at all times.

You thank him and tell him it's nice, but all you can wonder is why he even wants you to remember him in the first place. Maybe you're overthinking. He probably just didn't care for the useless accessory anymore.

When you turn to leave, Jungkook stops you with a gentle call of your name. He turns his head in your direction, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. "Can I tell you something?"

"Anything." You whisper back, praying you don't sound overly desperate for a more extended interaction with him.

A beat of silence passes, and just as he opens his mouth to respond, Somi is stomping up the stairs and belting out your name. You gaze away from Jungkook to glance behind you, listening as his sister shouts about doing each other's makeup.

"Never mind, actually. It's not important." Jungkook interrupts, and you physically feel your heart sink to the floor.

You're about to be annoying and pry a response out of him until your eyes dart to his floor, and you see it. What slipped out from his drawer when he tossed the bandana at you. 

A condom wrapper. An empty one, at that.

It's embarrassing how quickly your vision becomes glossy, salty tears threatening to release with each passing second. Of course, he's fucking someone. Of course, that person isn't you. Of fucking course.

You shouldn't be surprised; he's probably more into girls with a similar aesthetic. She's probably covered in tattoos and piercings, just like him. She's probably older than you and may even have her own car, unlike you, who still had to catch rides with your parents or older sister. 

It's odd, though. You're not entirely naive; you know Jungkook definitely flirts with you here and there, catching his eye when his gaze lingers on you for a second too long. There's a noticeable tension between the two of you that even your parents have teased about. And this whole time, he's been screwing someone else?

Jungkook hangs out with so many girls it'd be useless to even attempt to uncover who this mystery person is. It's none of your business, anyway. 

So you leave.

You tell Somi you'll get grounded if you're home past curfew, and with tear-stained cheeks, you run home.

The following day isn't any easier.

Somi posted a photo on FaceBook of herself and Jungkook posing together, arms wrapped around each other, with the caption "c u l8r alligator XD". The comments are already flooded with responses wishing Jungkook farewell, some from family members or friends of the siblings.

"Don't 4get abt me!!!!!! >:( "from a girl with red hair catches your eye because it's the only one Jungkook responded to. You can't bring yourself to read his full reply, fingers moving to quickly close the tab after seeing the word 'Never.'

It's probably her, you think to yourself, the one he's sleeping with.

Maybe it's for the best that Jungkook's moving away; it'll give you some time to get over him. 

And you most certainly did.

The only time he ever crosses your mind is when Somi brings him up (which she rarely does) or when you pass by his empty bedroom. Deep down, you know you'll always care for Jungkook on some level, but time away from him was just what you needed. You were too attached to him for no fathomable reason, rejecting any guy interested in you with the premise of being loyal to a guy who didn't even want you. He'd probably been sneaking girls in through his window, with you a few doors down doing magazine quizzes with his sister; blissfully unaware of what was happening down the hall.

You’re better off without him.

That's what you've been telling yourself daily until now. It's the start of summer vacation, and Jungkook's been summoned home to spend it with his family before Somi (and you) transfer to the University of San Francisco. 

Jungkook was hesitant about coming home, as he always is. In constant fear that his parents have some elaborate plan for him to change his major or set him up with someone they deem acceptable, nothing like the girls he hangs around and probably invites back to his dorm.

It took days of convincing until Jungkook finally agreed to come home, under the premise that his parents' intentions were pure and that they simply wanted one last summer together before Somi moved away for college. They also hoped he'd be able to house-sit and watch over Somi for a few days as they took their annual anniversary trip to San Diego. That, however, took some bribing and the promise of gas money on their end.

He's not due to arrive until tomorrow morning, and you've convinced yourself there's no reason for you to see him right away. You'd be fine if the next time you saw him was in a few months as you're moving into your dorm. After years of longing, you've finally moved on from him.

Some of you have debated telling Somi about your past feelings for her brother, but there's no point. It was a one-sided relationship with absolutely zero depth, nothing worth discussing. So when she nudges your side and asks if you're interested in anyone, you reply with a shake of your head.

Somi has no reaction to this; she can't remember the last time you've been into anyone despite having the entire male population at your school practically throwing themselves at you. "Maybe you'll meet someone tonight."

She's referencing the house party you're going to, which she practically had to drag you out of your room to attend. Parties are different from your scene, especially on a day like today when you were hoping to have a girls' night with Somi. She had other plans, however.

"Maybe," you respond, sighing as the house you're attending is finally in your viewpoint. "We're not staying long, right? It looks packed."

Cars are parked throughout the street, one house, in particular, being the center of attention with loud music and drunk people decorating the front yard of a suburban-looking home. Somi looks as ecstatic as ever, looping her arm in yours and picking up her pace. She doesn't respond. It doesn't matter. Her response would've disregarded your concern.

One car catches your eye as you enter the unfamiliar house; it's parked towards the end of the street, and you swear you've been in it before. You're not able to dwell on it for too long, though, because Somi has to practically yank you through the front door.

Your nerves are at an all-time high. The music is entirely too loud, and there isn't a single sober person in sight. You're not sure how Somi even found out about this party, but you really wish she would've left you out of it. You'd go now if it were acceptable, but Somi would've stayed regardless, and you refuse to leave her alone. So, you push your feelings to the side and take her hand as she leads you towards the kitchen. 

"Thirsty?" Somi questions, forcing a red solo cup into your hand.

"Not at all," you respond, sighing as Somi pours something into your cup.

"It's just ginger ale," she reassures you, "I don't think either of us should get drunk here." For once, she's being reasonable.

Somi suggests you do a lap around the house in hopes of running into people you may have gone to school with. And to your surprise, a decent amount of your past classmates have decided to attend. You feel more at ease with them around, a bit more comfortable now that you're around recognizable people. Although you initially hesitated to show up, you're glad you did. 

"Anybody catch your eye yet? Or are you still breaking hearts?" Your old classmate, Yeoreum, questions.

You shake your head, about to explain that you're not interested in dating right now, until she gestures behind you. "That guy is pretty cute."

You shift on the couch, looking around until you spot who Yeoreum had been gesturing towards. You locate him finally, and she's right; he is cute. He just seems so familiar.

That's when it hits you.

"Oh my God," you whisper, eyes locked on him, and you slowly rise from the couch.

It's Jungkook. And the car you recognized was his. He's here. What is he doing here? He isn't due to be back until tomorrow morning.

You almost don't realize it's him until you spot the mole under his lip. He's grown his hair out and stopped dyeing it, the slew of tattoos that decorated his arm (God, did he start working out, too?) nicely connected, now creating a sleeve, and he's given himself an eyebrow piercing. Your feelings for him come rushing back in full force.

Panicked, you reach for Somi's hand, but she's nowhere to be found. Careful not to be seen by her brother, you bow your head slightly, passing through a crowd of sweaty bodies until you finally spot her kitty heels. She's leaned against a wall, swirling around her cup while flirting with some guy you'd seen around school a few times.

Creating some much-needed distance between the two, you tug Somi towards you. "I think I just saw your brother."

"What? No, he won't even be in the city until tomorrow morning." 

Frustrated, you quickly search the crowd until your eyes land on him again. You ignore the fact that he's now speaking to some girl with red hair and tattoos scattered across her arm and point in their direction, "Well, then that guy looks just like him."

Somi squints her eyes in disbelief at the boy in question until the doubt becomes confusion, and the confusion becomes realization. "Oh my God! The fuck is he doing here?" She turns towards you as if you're supposed to have the answer.

"The fuck should I know? You said he wouldn't be here until tomorrow morning!"

"Because that's what he told our parents! How was I supposed to know he was gonna be here? I never would've come if I knew!"

"What are you guys doing here?" A voice you haven't heard in so long interrupts. You don't even want to turn around.

"What are you doing here?" Somi throws back, and the two stare at each other in angry silence for a moment until Jungkook steps to the side. "Upstairs," he says, nodding towards the staircase.

"But—"

"Go."

Somi's clearly aggravated but makes her way towards the stairs. You remain in place with your arms crossed, raising a brow in confusion when Jungkook looks at you. "What?"

"You too."

"I'm not—"

"I'm not asking again," he says simply. You convince yourself that you only take his command because you don't feel like fighting. Definitely not because it's interesting to have him boss you around.

Trudging up the stairs behind Somi, you wait with her in the hallway until Jungkook arrives. "Come on," he says, entering a bathroom and turning the light on. Neither you nor Somi protest; there really isn't any point.

As soon as the door is shut, Somi is yelling at the top of her lungs. "What the fuck are you doing here?! You said you wouldn't be back until tomorrow morning! Mom and Dad had to push their trip back just to give you more time to arrive, and you're already fucking here?! The fuck is the matter with you?!"

"I'm not gonna respond if you're gonna be yelling like this." Jungkook says calmly, leaning against the sink, "Let me get my questions out first, then I'll answer any of yours, deal?"

Somi glances over at you, sitting on the bathtub's edge, and you nod. She returns her attention back to Jungkook, takes a deep breath, then agrees. 

"Now, what are you guys doing here?! How'd you even get invited?! And you're drinking?!" The calm demeanor from earlier slips away in a matter of seconds, clearly a hoax just to get Somi to calm down enough to let him speak.

"It's just ginger ale, and we've barely even had any! We were invited by our friends, okay? We have just as much right to be here as you do."

Jungkook scoffs, clearly unamused. "Right, and I'm assuming Mom and Dad know you're here then, huh?"

Somi nervously tucks a hair behind her ear. You wonder why you even have to be in here with them. It's not like Jungkook is your brother, anyway. 

"We told our parents that we were going to a birthday party at a friend's house." Somi mumbles, barely able to look Jungkook in the eye.

"And what did they say when they dropped you guys off?"

"They didn't drop us off," you interrupt, "we walked here."

"Well, I wasn't gonna tell him that." Somi glares at you, it takes every bone in your body to not to laugh at her.

You're so over this. You didn't want to attend this dumb party in the first place, and seeing Jungkook flirting with some girl who could've been his female counterpart was the icing on the cake. It doesn't matter if your feelings for him were gone before tonight; every little emotion you'd felt for him over the years had returned (as if they ever left).

"And how exactly did you two geniuses plan on getting home?"

"Same way we got here."

"Can you please just let me handle this? Jesus Christ…" Somi shoots another frustrated glare at you, and you can't help but roll your eyes at her. She turns back towards her brother, "Can you answer my questions now?"

Jungkook's eyes anxiously dart around the cramped bathroom, landing on you a few times before he's slowly nodding his head. "Alright, Mom and Dad basically forced me to spend the whole summer here, and I kept asking myself why they were so persistent about it. They finally told me they needed me to watch over you and the house for their stupid trip. I had plans too, you know? That I had to derail for them. My band could've spent this summer touring, making real money, and now we can't. So, they wanna inconvenience me? I'll inconvenience them right back."

"…Inconvenience them by doing what?" Somi asks the exact question you had.

Jungkook shrugs, "By telling them I'm gonna be arriving a day late, duh."

You and Somi exchange an awkward glance at one other before silently agreeing not to tease him about it. If this was his badass way of retaliating, who were you to rain on his parade?

"Are you gonna tell anyone you saw us here?" Somi questions, a noticible tremble in her voice.

"As long as you guys don't tell anyone you saw me."

It's a fair trade, you accept it. You're even more delighted when Jungkook says he's taking the two of you home. Somi, however, isn't too happy about this, claiming there were so many people she didn't get to speak to, and how'd this be the last time she'd get to see them before moving away for school. You're not sure if Somi is really good at getting what she wants, or if Jungkook was tired of hearing her complain, but he finally gives in and grants her ten more minutes to socialize before meeting him at his car.

"If you're not at my car in ten minutes, I swear to God I'm calling mom." Jungkook scolds, holding the bathroom door open as the three of you finally exit.

A loud, drunk voice suddenly shouts, "Woah, Jungkook! Two girls at the same time!? You fucking beast!"

"They're my sisters, you fucking pervert!" He shouts back.

You can't even dwell on how disgusting the original comment was, only being able to focus on the fact that Jungkook just reffered to you as his sister. As conceited as it may sound, you're not used to rejection or guys putting you in the friend-zone. Whatever little game Jungkook had been playing with you over the years was completely new territory. And right when you think things couldn't possibly get any worse, he calls you his sister.

What the actual fuck.

The next ten minutes go by in a blur; Somi has ditched you for a second time that night to talk to the guy from earlier. When it's finally time to leave, you find her Sat on his lap with her arm hung across his shoulder, laughing at an unfunny pickup line he'd used on her.

"It's time, Somi," you interrupt, helping her stand.

"Wait, wait, wait," she persists, directing her attention back to the boy, "tomorrow at five, right?"

"And not a second later." He sends her a disgusting wink that makes your skin crawl.

Somi is so love-struck you're surprised there isn't an arrow lodged in her back. She can barely form a proper sentence, erupting into a fit of giggles every few seconds as you make your way to Jungkook's car. "Wasn't he just gorgeous?"

You shrug, linking arms with her. "He was alright."

Stunned, Somi gasps at you, "Just alright? He was literally like a Greek God."

"I'm not saying he's unattractive; he's just...not really my type."

"And what is your type, Miss. Never-Has-Been-Interested-In-Anyone?"

Now, there's the question of the hour. You have to word your response very carefully; don't be too obvious about the fact that your ideal type is her older sibling. 

"I guess I prefer guys with an edgier look to them, you know? Tattoos, piercings..." Despite your attempt to sound as nonchalant as possible, your heart is beating out of your chest from the mild confession.

Somi snickers, then playfully groans. "It sounds like you're describing my brother."

Now, you really have to test the waters.

"Since you brought him up, would it be so bad if I did like Jungkook? Hypothetically speaking, of course." You're not sure what prompts you to even ask this. It's not like he's even interested in you; he literally just referred to you as his sister.

A beat of silence passes as Somi gathers her thoughts, then she says, "No."

"What?"

You've finally reached Jungkook's car at this point, beating him there. You sit atop the trunk, feet hovering above the ground as the cold, nighttime air swirls around you. Somi shakes her head, "Obviously, it wouldn't be the ideal situation, but I guess I wouldn't mind as long as you talked to me about it first."

"First?" You mimic.

"Like...assuming you'd wanna date him or something. Just so I'm not blindsided, you know?"

This is the last thing you would've expected your impulsive, hotheaded (yet oh-so-loveable) best friend to be reasonable about. Mainly because she lectured you for nearly twenty minutes when she first suspected you had a crush on Jungkook. 

You go to respond, but Jungkook, finally arriving at the car, captivates both of your attention. He finishes off his can of Pepsi before crushing the aluminum and tossing it to the ground. "Ready?" He questions.

There's no point in giving him a speech about littering; you're just ready to go home.

He fishes his keys from his pocket and unlocks the car door; Somi opens the backseat and jumps in before you have the chance, sprawling across the aged leather. "Move over," you nudge her foot with your knee; she pulls away from you.

Jungkook calls your name, "Just sit up front. She's not gonna move."

Now, this is new. You've ridden in the backseat of his car with Somi more times than you can count; he'd never allow either of you to sit shotgun with him; typical annoying older brother bullshit.

Don't make a big deal out of this, you say to yourself, climbing into the passenger seat of his car.

Somi and Jungkook bicker the entire ride to their parent's house, partially out of annoyance with each other, but you also get the feeling that neither of them were genuinely ready to leave the party. You're surprised Jungkook even enjoyed parties; he spent most of high school either working, hanging out at skate parks, or practicing with his band in their garage. College must've really changed him, and you're unsure how to feel about it. 

Jungkook parks a few houses down from their parent's house and unlocks the doors, "Get out," he says into the backseat.

"Where are you gonna spend the night?" Somi questions, stretching her arms outward.

"I checked into a motel this morning. I'll be back here tomorrow around noon. And, hey," Jungkook turns around, pointing a finger at his sister. "Don't tell them you saw me."

Mockingly, Somi points a finger right back at him. "Telling them I saw you would be exposing myself, cock-sucker. Leave me alone." She angrily begins to climb out of the car, annoyed at how little trust Jungkook had in her.

You turn to go, but Jungkook's cold hand on your bicep stops you, "Where you goin'?"

"I'm gonna walk home from here. It's only a few minutes away," you respond.

Jungkook shakes his head, "I'm dropping you off. You haven't moved since I left, right?"

"No, but it's fi—"

"Then your house is on the way to my motel. We're going in the same direction; might as well ride together."

It truly does make more sense to ride together, and rejecting his offer any further surely would raise suspicions. You don't want either of them to believe you'd feel uncomfortable being alone with Jungkook because that couldn't be farther from the truth. You're perplexed about your feelings now, and you don't want to do anything you'd regret just because of the confusion.

"Okay, then." You glance over your shoulder at Somi, "Will you need any help getting ready for your date tomorrow?"

Suddenly embarrassed, Somi shushes you, gesturing that Jungkook is literally right next to you and would prefer that he didn't hear about her dating life. Jungkook genuinely couldn't care less and is instead patiently waiting for his sister to get out.

She does finally, and Jungkook resumes his path to your house. He turns the radio on, switching between stations until he stops on one that's playing a song he's familiar with. You drive silently for a few minutes; the only sounds being heard are the distant noises from the car's motor and Jungkook humming along to the radio.

He breaks the silence by saying, "I was surprised to see you back there. You never really seemed like the type to enjoy parties."

You chuckle, "I could say the same for you; I don't remember you attending any in high school."

"That's 'cause house parties weren't my thing," he explains, "I went to raves or parties that would happen at the skate park. I don't really like being at someone else's house for too long; it feels too intimate."

Now that you think of it, skate park parties and raves seem much more like his scene.

"Well, I only went because Somi was going, and I didn't feel comfortable with her being there alone. Otherwise, I never would've gone." You admit, resting your head against the window.

"Thanks for looking after her, by the way. You're a good friend."

"I'd do anything for her." Your voice is barely a whisper now, getting quieter with every word you say.

Silence passes, and he says, "Did you know your guys' dorm room is gonna be right under ours?"

"Seriously?" You respond, genuinely curious.

"Mmm-hmm. My roommate, Mingyu, and I are gonna be the worst upstairs neighbors ever." He teases as you roll your eyes. Your mind can't decipher whether this banter is playful & platonic or romantic. Everything Jungkook does confuses you.

"If that's the case, I'll be sure to move to an entirely new building."

"What, so you can have your boyfriend protect you?"

Pause. Boyfriend?

You nearly give yourself whiplash from how hard you spun around to look at Jungkook. "Boyfriend?" You ask.

He shrugs nonchalantly, keeping his eyes on the road. "I just assumed you'd have one by now. Do you?"

There he is again with his mind games. What the fuck was he talking about?

After letting out a very frustrated sigh, you mumble, "No, Jungkook, I do not have a boyfriend."

"Good. Focus on school."

Now he's pissing you off. You wish he'd shut up for the rest of the car ride. "It's nice to see you again, by the way."

Holy shit, you feel like jumping out the window.

"Yeah, great seeing you too. Oh, there's my house. I can walk from here." You make quick work of undoing your seatbelt.

"You sure? I can drop you off at the door."

"No, no. It's best if my parents don't see you so they don't accidentally tell your parents that they saw you." You lie, racking your brain for any excuse imaginable.

He nods, deciding it's best to drop you off a little further from your house. "Then, I'll see you tomorrow?"

"What?" You stop dead in your tracks, one hand clutching the door handle.

"Aren't you coming over tomorrow to help Somi get ready for her…thing? I'll be back home by then."

He's right; you'd be back in his house, and he'll be there this time. It's no big deal. You'd only be there for an hour (at most) to help her prepare, and then you could go the whole summer without seeing him again.

"Yeah, I'll see you then."

The following day, Somi is back to her unreasonable self, expecting you to wait at her house for her to return from her date.

"Please? We're just going to get pizza; we won't even be gone that long." She pleads, adding the finishing touches to her makeup.

You'd already spent over an hour helping her prepare, and now she expects you to do nothing but await her return. You know her heart's in the right place; she just wants to be the first to hear all the exhilarating details about her date. Still, a phone call would suffice. 

"What am I supposed to do while I wait for you to come back?" You whine.

"Just hang out here! Watch a movie or something!" She suggests, trying her absolutely hardest to sound enthusiastic. Her phone buzzes in her hand before she has the chance to continue, eyes lighting up as they flicker across the bright screen.

Somi clutches her phone, locks eyes with you, then rushes towards the door. You're faster, though, quickly capturing her wrist before she's barely reached the hallway. "I'm going home."

"No! If you stay here, I'll bring you back pizza, and we can have a girls' night like we were supposed to yesterday! Come on, please?" She begs, pouting her lips.

You go to reply, but the bathroom door swings open, and Jungkook strides out. Just to your luck, he's shirtless; water droplets descend from his hair as he towel-dries it. As he enters his bedroom, he mocks his sister's high-pitched whine, earning a lethal glare and a slew of swears thrown at him.

Perhaps you should stay.

"Fine, but you're lending me your pajamas." You give in, earning an enthusiastic shriek from your best friend. 

Somi wraps you in a brief, yet tight, hug before shouting, "Be back soon!" Then she's rushing down the stairs and out the front door. It's not often that Somi makes you wait for her return, but you absolutely despise it whenever it does occur. She's never back by the time she promises and gets upset when you try to call and check up on her.

And speaking of calling, you're sure your phone is dead by now. You insisted Somi bring her's along just in case, so you're left with one option.

Jungkook's door is wide open (as usual) when you go to knock. He's fully clothed now, pairing his black sweatpants with a matching black t-shirt. His hair appears mostly dry now, chaotic as ever, but dry. You don't think he's ever looked this good before.

He's sat on his bed, flipping through the latest copy of Rolling Stone when you arrive. He glances over at you and lets out a dry chuckle.

"What's so funny?" You ask.

"You're dressed like Bella Swan." He responds casually, eyes raking up and down your body. 

"Who?"

"From Twilight. You know, that new movie that came out?" He seems genuinely surprised that you don't seem to know anything about this movie, not even the name of (who you suspect to be) the main character.

You lean against the doorframe, "Haven't seen it."

"It's a great movie, seriously. Some friends and I are seeing it in a few days if you and Somi wanna come." He suggests, flipping another page in the magazine.

You let him know you'll ask Somi if she's interested before remembering why you came to his room in the first place and ask if you can borrow his phone charger. Jungkook directs you to where it's plugged up by his desk, and you finally have the chance to stroll further into his room. You can't recall the last time you've been in here, but you know it looks much different than before. Many of the band posters that decorated the room were gone, his random trinkets and piles of clothes were gone, and not a single piece of his CD collection was in sight. It felt so lifeless, so unlike him. No wonder he always dreaded returning home; it probably didn't even feel like home to him.

"So," you say, attempting to break the silence, "you're here for the whole summer, huh?"

"Unfortunately." He mumbles, "Gonna try and go by sooner, convince my parents I have to sort out an issue with my dorm or something."

"It's nice to have you back, though." You admit, watching as Jungkook's gaze locks on yours.

"Yeah? It is?" He questions.

You shrug, "Of course. We practically grew up together; it was weird to not see you all the time."

He sits up now, closing the magazine and tossing it on his nightstand. There's something on his mind that he isn't saying; you can tell from the way his brows knit together and how he's anxiously tugging on his lip piercing. "It was weird to be gone," he mumbles and leaves it at that.

"By the way, I'm sorry about last night." He apologizes.

"For what? Calling me your sister?"

He laughs at this, shaking his head. "I didn't mean to do that on purpose, by the way. That guy was just...so weird, I kinda blurted out the first thing that would've made him feel weird for even thinking that."

Oh. That makes sense. You definitely overreacted. 

"I meant," he continues, "I'm sorry if the whole boyfriend assumption thing upset you."

"Oh," you dismissively wave a hand at him, "that was nothing."

Jungkook raises a brow at you, "Are you sure? 'Cause you seemed pretty upset afterward, you were practically running out of my car."

There's no point in lying now, considering you weren't even the slightest bit discrete the previous night.

"If I'm being completely honest, I just felt a little awkward. But that's it, I swear." You assure him, moving to lean against the bedside table.

"Awkward about what?"

God, this was so embarrassing. Is he really going to make you humiliate yourself like this?

"Because I've never actually had a boyfriend before."

Jungkook looks genuinely shocked at your confession, eyes nearly bulging out of his head as he examines yours for any sign of deception. "You don't believe me?"

"I'm not sure. I only assumed you had one just based on how crazy guys were about you in high school. Not to mention you're, like, fucking gorgeous."

What?

"I'm what?" You ask, not entirely sure if you heard him correctly.

He repeats himself again, and you make him do it a few more times until he's too embarrassed to say it again. You somehow manage to get back on the topic of never having a boyfriend before when Jungkook asks you another question. "Have you ever...?"

He doesn't need to finish the sentence. You know what he's asking.

You shake your head.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked. It's none of my business." He berates himself, and you assure him it's no big deal and that it shouldn't even be a shocker to him.

After a half hour of talking about whatever comes to mind, you wind up sitting opposite Jungkook on his bed, legs perched up underneath your body as you go back and forth, questioning one another. 

"So, when are you gonna admit you had a crush on me?" His voice is barely a whisper.

"I never did." You lie.

"Really? That sucks?"

"Why?"

He shrugs, leaning his back against the headboard. "I just always thought that maybe you and I would've ended up together at some point."

You don't remember who leans in first; it doesn't matter; all that matters is after years of longing, your lips are finally intertwined with his. He must've smoked today; you can taste the nicotine on his breath. But it doesn't matter; you don't make the slightest move to pull away. Neither does he, placing his hands on the small of your back to guide you onto his lap. 

Your body is moving on autopilot, limbs moving to do whatever feels right as you silently pray not to ruin the moment. Jungkook can spot your nervousness from a mile away and stop you, "We don't have to do—"

"I want to," you pant, breathless, "I've wanted this for so long."

"Do you trust me?" He asks.

"More than anything."

He kisses you again before adjusting your current position, slowly twisting yourselves until you're lying flat on your back. He moves his lips down towards your neck, leaving a trail of kisses in his path as he settles between your legs.

You reach up to grab a handful of his hair, nearly jumping out of your skin as his delicate fingertips creep up your inner thigh, inching closer and closer until his ghosting over your clothed pussy. "This okay?" He mumbles.

You nod, unable to form a coherent sentence. "Cute," he replies, "you're already so wet." His fingertips stroke your clit through your damp underwear; you don't think to wonder how he managed to get to it so quickly, all thoughts leaving your brain as he makes small circles using his middle and index finger. 

"Jungkook…" You moan, pleading for him to do more.

"I know." He assures you, using a single finger to pull your panties to the side, making just enough room for him to slide a finger into your aching cunt. "Am I really your first time?"

You nod again out of fear that a moan would slip from your lips if you even tried to speak. His eyes are locked on yours, studying your expression as he coaxes a finger inside you. You're embarrassed at how quickly your wetness coated his finger, but Jungkook doesn't care. He likes it, makes him feel fucking amazing knowing the effect he had on you. 

"Take your shirt off." He says, and you do as told, pulling your top up and off your body and tossing it to the floor; making quick work of undoing your bra before he even has the chance to ask.

His lips are back on your neck instantly, trailing down to your collarbone until he reaches the curve on your breast. He halts his actions momentarily before your pitched nipple is caught between his teeth and your back arching off the bed from how overstimulating everything feels.

You curse under your breath, and Jungkook makes another comment about how cute you are, though you feel far from it. He apologizes by lapping his tongue around your nipple, easing the pain slowly as he inserts a second finger into your cunt.

You can feel his bulge against your thigh, though he doesn't even care about getting himself off. He moves over to your nipple, licking and sucking until it's completely hardened, leaving himself breathless. The two fingers that had been working your cunt had picked up the pace now, and there was an unfamiliar feeling in your gut that you couldn't identify.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…" You groan, legs trembling.

Jungkook is all too familiar with these actions and asks, "You're already close? I've barely done anything to you." He teases, chuckling to himself.

You know he's being lighthearted, but you can't help but feel embarrassed at the tears forming in your eyes from how good everything feels.

Suddenly, he's pulling his fingers out of you, and now you feel like crying for a different reason. You go to protest but stop to watch as he takes his shirt off. If you weren't sure then, it's obvious now he'd started attending the gym. 

He makes quick work of tugging his sweatpants down his legs, tossing them into the abyss before reaching into his bedside table and retrieving a condom. "You're okay?"

You nod.

"Use your words."

“I’m okay, Jungkook.”

"You're still okay with this?"

"Yes."

"You sure?"

Jesus fucking Christ, the saint this man is.

"I'm positive." You assure him.

You move to pull down your skirt and underwear, but Jungkook catches your wrist. "Leave them on," he says. There are so many things going on that you choose not to question.

He pulls off his boxers in the meantime, hardened cock slapping against his abdomen with precum leaking from the tip. Though you had nothing to compare it to, Jungkook was obviously slightly larger than average. You shouldn't be surprised; it's always the guys that you'd least expect.

He tears the condom wrapper with his teeth, retrieving the rubber inside before tossing the remains to his floor. Despite being fully erect, he fists his cock a few times before sliding the condom on.

He crawls over you, left arm at the side of his head, while he uses his dick to nudge your panties to the side. "This still okay?"

"I already told you—fuck!" He cuts you off, the tip of his cock slowly making its way inside you. You feel so stretched out from this alone you don't know how you'd manage to fit all of him into you.

Jungkook must be feeling the same, swearing under his breath and commenting about how tight you feel around him. Second by second, he coaxes himself into your pussy until you feel like you could split right open. "Are you all the way in?"

"No, can't take anymore?" He asks, leaning his head down against your ear.

You're embarrassed to admit he's too big to handle on your first time, but it's the truth. You don't want to overextend yourself just to please him and end up hurting yourself.

"You can move, just…not too much. Please."

Jungkook nods, "Whatever you want, angel."

He pulls his hips back and rocks himself back in, being sure to ask if you're okay with his pace. Once you confirm you feel fine and want him to keep going, he continues his movements; his eager hips snapping against yours and his cock hitting your G-spot with each deep stroke. You feel like you're on cloud nine, hands tangled in his hair as he swallows your moans.

That unfamiliar feeling from earlier returns; you feel it through your entire body this time. A moan of his name escaping your lips lets him know you're close. How he can always sense these things is beyond you; it's not worth overthinking. 

"Close?" He asks, and you nod frantically.

Jungkook picks up his speed slightly, careful not to overwhelm you, but just enough to reach your climax, until finally, the bundle of nerves in your abdomen snaps, and your back is arching off the mattress as you come around his cock.

He's only a few seconds behind with his orgasm, erupting in a loud grunt when he finally reaches it. The two of you lay in silence for a moment before Jungkook finally pulls out of you and slides the condom off, tying it in a knot and tossing it into his trash bin.

"Are you okay?" He asks for what feels like the millionth time.

"I'm fine." You respond, and it isn't a lie. Physically, you feel terrific; mentally, it was an entirely different story. "Are you?"

"I'm good, I'm good."

As much as you would love to lay naked with Jungkook in his bed for the rest of the night, you know Somi will be home anytime soon. "I think I'm gonna go wash up."

He nods, crawling under his covers once you stand from his bed, tugging your skirt to its proper length as you search for your remaining clothing. "Oh, it's um…your shirt, it's over there." Jungkook awkwardly gestures towards a pile of clothing by the end of his bed.

Almost as quickly as you shred yourself of them, you snatch your clothing and bundle them up against your chest. 

"Listen, I know right now isn't really ideal, but I meant what I said about liking you, and really think we should talk." He says nervously, barely even able to look at you.

You almost want to laugh at how cute he is; instead, you agree to talk to him about it soon. You're about to head out into the hallway when Jungkook reminds you about your charging phone over by his desk.

You retrieve it and scan the area again, ensuring you haven't left anything else behind. When everything seems clear, you stand upright, but your eyes fall toward the trash bin near his window with the discarded condom. You're embarrassed to even look at it until you realize something seems off. It looks…empty. 

Now, you're no sex expert, but imagine that if Jungkook had finished, there'd be something to show for it in the condom. Right?

Did he fake his orgasm? Was this another one of his fucked up mind games you'd been subjected to? 

You don't know what to think as you step into the bathroom; your emotions are all over the place, and all you really want to do is go home. But you promised Somi you'd be here when she returns, so you stay.

The next time a Jeon sibling asks if you're okay is twenty minutes later when Somi finally arrives and asks why your eyes are so watery.

"I'm fine." You respond, and you're lying for the first time that night.

[satorusdiary]

dilf!toji being your ex bf

fluff & angst + making up + cuddling + toji not being able to resist you when you look so fragile + toji forever loving you

part 2! - back in love !

You sent 1:03 am

hey, r u awake?

toji places the cigarette back down on the ashtray, looking at his phone slightly shocked. it’s been months since you and him have had contact, the split up that has happened to your relationship has left a strain in his heart.

why did you text him at this hour? and most importantly, why aren’t you asleep? toji knows how well your sleep schedule usually was.

his friends look at him concerned, the look on toji’s face confusing them even more compared to when he stopped smoking repeatedly just a few seconds ago.

“fushiguro, you good?” satoru questions, patting his friends shoulder as he looks over at his friends phone. he wasn’t able to get a look at the message before toji pulls the phone into a direction that wasn’t able to be seen.

“yeah.. jus’ lemme call someone real quick.” before the rest of his friends could protest, toji is up and walking over to an empty room in the apartment. taking a seat on the bed.

Toji sent 1:09 am

thought i told you to lose my number

now that’s something he wouldn’t text you, he immediately starting regretting sending that message the second you immediately read the message.

you were his sweet little girl. the young woman who he swore he was gonna marry, the one he swore to have kids with.

things were different when he realized how much his life would have an impact on you if you stayed with him.

what’s good about a sweet girl who has a bright future getting with a older man selling illegal substances, that could send him to jail for years and years.

yeah not good at all.

toji knew what’s best for you, and if it meant him not being with you then it was worth it.

because he loved you, and would do physically anything in his power for you to have the best in life.

You sent 1:09 am

i know, i just need someone to talk to rn. i’m sorry

his heart weeps, you still want his comfort even after he has completely broke you, and your relationship with him.

he should be in jail for just breaking you in general.

toji sighs, not knowing how to reply. he wants to comfort you, yet he wants to push you away from his life. push you away from the trouble and the dangers that could happen to you.

he thinks you have given up until you text him 3 minutes later.

You sent 1:12 am

can i call you, please toji?

he couldnt deny it. he just couldnt. his love for you was simply unbreakable even if you weren’t together anymore.

his friends out in the living room are most likely concerned and worried for toji, but that’s the least of his problems. he needs to know if you’re okay, if you’re hurt.

‘incoming call from Toji’

he swears his heart skips a beat when the call goes through.

toji is not one to get nervous. especially with anything in general. but when it came to you, everything comes crashing down. when it comes to you, toji is willing to do anything for you, because you were his girl. his love.

“..hi” your voice is shaky, it seems you’re nervous as well. could he blame you though? this was the first time in months he has actually spoke to you.

“hey.” he replies, hoping you wouldn’t notice the weak tone in his voice as he spoke.

there’s a moment of silence, and soft breathing from your end before toji speaks up.

“are you ok? why’d you call me.”

it’s harsh, his tone is harsh. your eyes begin watering, and you hope he doesn’t notice.

“i-i am just having trouble sleeping, that’s all. ‘wanted your company atleast to calm me down.” your tone has a small strain, as if you were crying for hours before you called him.

it was as if he was able to see your puffy eyes through the screen, he could just imagine it now.

“there’s something else, hm? c’mon tell me, y’know i won’t judge.” especially with you. is what he wanted to say as-well, but he couldn’t get to soft with you now. he couldn’t.

he hears a sniffle from your end, feeling his heart clench once more. as if his heart is dropping to the bottom of his stomach.

“okay.. t-truth is i usually sleep better with you ‘round. but since you’re gone, ‘ts been kinda rough. i just wanted to call you for once, to see if it would help..” you confessed, voice breaking down in between sentences.

toji has an urge to put you down, and hang up. but he couldn’t, how could he resist you? especially after everything he has put you through.

the bracelet on his wrist that has your initials come into his vision. you had made this for him when he was sick, he has never took it off ever since.

“y’want me to come over? not gonna make contact, jus’ gonna be there til you sleep.” he says calmly, he swore he could’ve heard you sigh in relief.

“mhmm, yes please..” you’re still polite, his sweet girl is still sweet around him. that’s what he misses with you.

“alright’ be there in 10. jus know i’m never doin this shit again, kay?” he says harshly, too harsh.

you sniffle again, he could tell your frowning and having tears drop on your phone screen. his heart strings get tugged, and he calms his weeping heart.

he’s hurt you once again.

the call ends before you could say anything else, and he’s out of the bedroom quickly taking his keys. his friends look at him concerned.

“yo, you good?” suguru comments, looking up at his friend who was ready to leave the apartment.

“where you going?” satoru also questions.

toji shakes his head, letting out a deep sigh as he turns to look at his of friends once again.

“gonna be gone for a bit, see ya tomorrow?” he waves them off, and goes out the door before they could reply, or ask anymore questions.

he knows he said he would be at your place by 10 minutes, but he ends up arriving in 5 minutes. quickly at your door step, knocking on the door gently.

just as he predicted, you open the door almost immediately.

when he looks at you, he swears he could break down then and there. on your door step.

your eyes are puffy, you’re wearing his hoodie that he “accidentally” left at your home, and there were dried tear stains on your puffy cheeks.

he wanted to kiss your cheeks badly, and cradle you in his arms. but he resisted.

thats before you crash into his arms, immediately breaking down. hugging him tightly as if he was going to disappear again.

toji breaks, he can’t handle the cold act around you any longer.

“y/n? what’s wrong baby? speak to me..” toji coo’s, his harsh tone disappeared. you automatically feel comfort from his nice tone, something you missed.

there he is, the sweet older boyfriend you have always missed. the man who was your home, your protector, your everything.

“‘missed you s’much toji. miss being with you and megumi, i-i can’t sleep without thinking about how i could’ve been better for you.” you stutter repeatedly.

it was no lie that megumi missed you as well. the boy who is only 3 years old can not go a night without asking where you were, if you were coming back to him without breaking down. because you made the little boy feel loved.

toji’s heart breaks, now he notices how selfish he has been. yes he was protecting you, but he also broke you so much. regret seeps into his body, he wraps his arms around you and hugs you tightly.

“‘s not your fault sweets, you were more than enough for me. c’mon, let’s go to bed.” he murmurs, picking you up bridal style and walks towards your bedroom. the door behind him shutting closed.

the photo of you both happily together was still on your night stand, toji’s heart breaks for the millionth time in the past hour.

his side of the bed was cold, as if you never slept on it. that’s because it felt wrong sleeping on that side, knowing it once belonged to him.

you continue crying as you’re placed on the bed, still in toji arms. he’s careful with you, placing kisses on your face and rubbing your body to give you his heat.

“i-i miss you.. s’much.” you repeat, looking up at him for the first time with clear sight. tears drying back on your cheeks.

he gives you a sad smile and kisses both of your cheeks, sticky with tears.

“i miss you more sweetheart, missed my little girl s’much.. ‘l’ll explain everythin to you tomorrow, kay?” he questions, caressing your cold cheek.

the smile you give him is sad, but could easily melt the coldness in his heart.

after you nod he places a kiss on your lips, before pulling you closer, your head on his chest while is head is rested on top of yours.

the night goes by, and your soft snores fill the room. toji’s eyes are still glued onto the photo of you both, looking so happy, so dumb and in love.

he is gonna make that happen again, only for you. he’d figure out everything else soon, his priority was now you.

“i love you, missed you more than anything. baby.” he whispers quietly, placing one last kiss to your temple before drifting off to sleep.

for the first time in months he is able to sleep with no bad feelings, or any nightmares.

that is because you’re by his side, by his side to push away all the bad thoughts. by his side to make him feel loved again.

Jujutsu Kaisen masterlist

part 2 - back in love !

a/n: don’t mind typos pls, it’s like 3:47 am😭😭

[zreamy]

i'll love you forever

pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader

summary: you were sunghoon's first everything; first friend, first love, and first heartbreak. after years of quietly crushing on you, he was finally ready to confess. so ready to confess, that he told his parents the two of you were already dating! it was an easy enough lie to keep up and he kept it up for months, what could possibly go wrong? he thought. little did he know, you would have a falling out and stop talking for months.. and then, you'd both get invited to spend a week at home with his parents, who still believe you're his girlfriend.

genre: smut, fluff, angst, college au, childhood best friends to lovers, fake dating

warnings: minors dni, fake dating is pretty mild (sorry), she kinda doesn’t rate him at the start, these two kind of exist in a vacuum a little bit idk i had a self-enforced word count to stick to and broke it.. (im within the 10% allowance !), sunghoon in a vest, sunghoon arms, sunghoon

word count: 21,858

playlist: click here.. (for my non-spotify babes, the main song is light by wave to earth (which for some reason i put last.. whatever))

author's note: for silly @asahicore. happy birthday pooks i hope it's amazing and that u enjoy reading this when u have the time !!! LOL (lots of love) also im never writing without telling you things again this was so absurd.

to everyone else.. ok happy reading also emma did not beta read this so im sure it's missing its charm .. anyway it's for emma not you 😭 anyway i hope u enjoy regardless and lmk ur thoughts! omg this is the first fic im nervous about posting.......... please enjoy or else.

In the three years since Park Sunghoon moved away for university, he’d been doing a pretty good job of going home to see his parents. They’d welcome their baby back to the nest with open arms and wide grins. With a rehearsed level of indifference, his younger sister, Yeji, would say, “Oh, I didn’t know you were coming home this weekend.” when she saw him at the dinner table. Sunghoon pretended to only be marginally hurt by this. 

In the last three months, he hasn’t so much as sent a text to his parents. 

Or to you. 

Ignoring texts from his mother is devastating. Between classes, he watches as, “Hi, sweetie, I love you 😍,” turns into, “Missing you, honey, know you must be busy but spare some time for your old mummy, no?” which turns into, “Getting really worried now, are you doing okay? Has something happened with YN? Talk to me, I love you, my baby boy!” 

Ignoring texts from you is easy because texts from you never come. 

Sitting at the end of his bed, Sunghoon rereads a text his mother sent a few minutes ago: Please talk to me, son. Really worried and YN isn’t answering calls either. What’s going on with you two?

When he leaves his room, he finds Jake lying on the couch, and with his keys in hand, Sunghoon says, “I’m going home.” 

And the drive is great! At least, he tells his mum it is. In truth, the drive home without you was nearly impossible. Your ever-expanding home time playlist buzzed through the speakers in his car, but without you there to screech along to the songs, it wasn’t the same. He felt your absence the most when he stopped to get petrol and you weren’t there behind him struggling to carry enough snacks to feed a small family without offering to pay. 

The look of worry on his mum’s face stirs a pit in his stomach. “Why are you so quiet these days? God, you look so tired,” she says, frowning. “Is it school? Or something with YN? It’s not like her not to text back.” Her brows crease as she whispers the word unless. She pulls him into a hug, her chin resting perfectly on his shoulder, and her comforting hand strokes the hair on the back of his head. “Breakups are never easy, honey. I’m so sorry, I know how much you love her.” 

Breakups are never easy. The sentence hangs heavy over his head. 

Whether she knows it or not, she’s handed him a get-out-of-jail-free card, the opportunity to set things straight, to end this mess once and for all. No further questions, and most importantly, no more lies. 

For the first time since he left your flat three months ago, Sunghoon lets himself cry. He’d imagined this moment countless times, his first cry since you ended things. In his mind, it was always intense. Today, as it happens, only a few salty tears leak from his eyes, spilling onto the cuff of his sleeve, darkening the blue cotton in tiny indigo splotches. 

“We didn’t break up,” he says in a small voice—for some reason. “I’m just having a hard time.” Neither statement is technically untrue, but the words taste rotten in his mouth.

The tightening grip of his mum’s arms around his body is what brings on the harsh, shoulder-racking sobs he’d been anticipating. For a while, they stand like this, Sunghoon weeping into his mum’s cardigan until she sends him upstairs to lie down, promising a cup of tea that never comes. 

His childhood bedroom is chilly, so he changes into clothes he left behind and climbs into bed, pulling his duvet up to his chin. He turns his head to look at the walls and the room around him, everything is exactly where he left it in the summer. It should be comforting, but it’s weird to be home without you. 

There are photos of you and him everywhere, growing up and around each other through different stages of life. The two of you together during the summer your family moved in next door, you wore glasses back then and were the first friend he’d made in his life. Sunbathing and sharing earphones at the beach, listening to music together on your iPod classic. Sunghoon in thick glasses with a stiff smile and your arm around him on the first day of high school. Wide grins at the start of this summer, the last time things were okay between you. 

Overwhelmed, he stares up at the ceiling, only realising he’s crying when a hot tear slips from his eyes to tickle his ear. Because Sunghoon likes to upset himself, he screws his eyes shut and thinks about the night before you stopped talking. 

Though he didn’t know it at the time, you’d left Yeonjun’s place to sit with him in a tiny restaurant on campus, the one you’d only visit to toast to each other’s heartbreaks. It had become a ritual — ever since your first year boyfriend dumped you after two weeks — to cry as much as you wanted and drink as much soju as your bodies could handle before stumbling back to your apartments. 

Having spent years suffering from an unrequited crush on his best friend, Sunghoon was always the one to comfort you. But that night was different; you were there to comfort him. It was easy enough to play the part of ‘boy whose crush likes someone else’ because he spent your entire friendship in that role. He’d had no problem accepting his fate, but his composure started to slip when you met Yeonjun. It was the first time you’d dated someone who Sunghoon had reason to be jealous of. In every way, Yeonjun was better than him—taller, funnier, hotter. Sunghoon knew he didn’t stand a chance. He took it personally, you liking Yeonjun instead of him, and let his jealousy consume him from the inside out. 

This jealousy led him to start telling you about Minjeong—lying to you about Minjeong, and his feelings for her. She was a girl from a college out of town that he saw on his Instagram Explore page. He followed her by accident, and by some stroke of luck, she followed back. Sunghoon didn’t really have feelings for her — he didn’t even know her — but she was a girl that you didn’t know, so you wouldn’t be able to meddle. 

It only took a few weeks for Sunghoon to become so upset about your relationship that he couldn’t hide his emotions anymore. So, in a fit of tears, he told you over the phone that things ended badly with Minjeong, and he was in urgent need of a soju ceremony. 

But the night was missing its usual comforts.

It was strange to be the one crying, to see you looking put together and ordering the food. To see you pouring the drinks and raising your glass to propose a toast to ‘Hoonie’s first heartbreak’. You were driving that night, so you only had a tiny sip of soju and let him drink as much as he needed, the way he always did for you, at the same table, in the same restaurant for years. 

Hours later, in your car, you entertained his drunken rambles, though he remembers how your lips were set into a frown that he wanted to kiss away while you gripped the steering wheel like you thought it would run from you. Sunghoon was more drunk than he’d been in a while, drunk enough to let you sling his arm over your shoulders and keep him upright until you reached his flat. 

The voices coming from Yeji’s room disrupt the memory. He’s thankful.

“Your brother’s going through something, so be nice to him this weekend.” His mother’s voice is her version of hushed—a loud whisper. 

Yeji’s response is harder to make out, but he doesn’t miss the way their mum says, “I mean it, missy.” 

A dramatic sigh rumbles through Yeji as she barges into his room without knocking. Sunghoon sits up, feeling an ache in his back and crossing his legs. 

“Mum told me to lay off you today, which is fine, but before I do, I need to tell you something.” 

Yeji pushes the door shut behind her, and the open window makes it slam, both of them flinching from the sudden noise. She pulls her hair out of a silk scrunchie and throws herself on the floor. A pang of irritation forms in his chest, knowing that he could immediately find the empty hanger in his wardrobe where the shirt she’s wearing used to live. 

“I hate you and your perfect golden boy image, Hoon. Would it kill you to fail a class for once? I don’t know how I’m supposed to carry on your legacy.” She’s looking up at him, her chin in her hands and irritation written in the crease between her thick brows. 

It’s impossible to know if it’s because of Yeji’s complete lack of boundaries or the fact that her ‘perfect, golden boy’ big brother is on track to fail three out of three classes and get cut from the hockey team, but Sunghoon immediately bursts into tears. 

“Oh, uh.. I’m sorry?” Yeji offers. “I was kidding if that helps.” 

“I’m alright, it’s okay.” The tears don’t stop stinging his eyes. “Why do you want me to change everything about myself?” 

With a frown, Yeji pours out her frustration and mild resentment. She doesn’t understand how Sunghoon effortlessly conquers every aspect of life while she struggles. Neither do their parents, who had been baffled by her plummeting grades since she moved to boarding school, especially when Sunghoon’s academic performance has only soared since he left for university. The weight of this perceived injustice pulls Sunghoon’s shoulders down with guilt as she talks about the expectations he has inadvertently set for her. 

“But other than that, I’m good.” She shrugs, sitting with her legs out, and leaning back on her palms. “How’s YN?” she asks. It’s clear from the brightness in her voice that she thinks she’s helping. 

Sunghoon cries again. 

Back on campus, he’s trying to scrape together what’s left of his academic career with the help of two of the smartest guys he knows, and their friend Jay. Though the word ‘friend’ feels a little strong at the moment given the way Jay’s goading him. 

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, sitting back in his seat. “There’s nothing you can do that I can’t,” he says, meaning every word. 

Jay scoffs, shrugging and raising his brow in a way that, over the years, Sunghoon knows to interpret as his ‘about to say something ridiculous’ look. “Pretty sure I could call YN right now, and she’d answer.” 

There’s a pit in Sunghoon’s stomach as Heeseung turns his head in the other direction like he’s been slapped, trembling with stifled laughter. At least Jake doesn’t hide his amusement, throwing his head back in a fit of giggles that draw nasty looks from the other students in the library. Sunghoon doesn’t waste his energy trying to argue because Jay’s right.

Now composed, Heeseung turns back to the table, flipping through some of Sunghoon’s course materials to find whatever his class was doing in class that week. The English Literature class he’s taking — The Modernist Movement: Joyce, Woolf, and Hemingway — is the same class he had to send a million emails over the summer to get enrolled in, but it’s the same one Heeseung aced two years ago. Lucky for him none of the boys seem to be in the mood to make fun of him for trying so hard to have a class in common with you, and then practically failing out of it before the term had started properly.

“This class is, like, beyond easy, dude.” Heeseung pauses to sniffle and twist the stud in his ear. “Everyone in my class aced it. How are you doing so badly already?” 

“I only took it because YN thought it’d be fun if we had a class together, but.. I kind of haven’t been going since we stopped talking.” Sunghoon shrugs, pretending to be unaffected. 

As if the mere mention of your name has some sort of summoning power, like saying Biggie Smalls in the mirror three times, you appear in his eye line, rounding the corner with a furious stride. Your demeanour crumbles when Jay waves at you, and you grin, waving back, but as soon as you look Sunghoon in the eye again, the rage comes back, and you smack a hand on the table when you reach it, leaning over to him. 

“Sunghoon, a word?” you ask.

He thinks you’re asking, but it’s hard to tell with the way you set your jaw afterwards, and the way the warmth of your signature vanilla scent hits him hard. Dazed, Sunghoon lifts a hand, pointing at himself. “Me?” 

“Does anyone else at the table answer to Sunghoon?” 

“Okay,” he says, somewhat pathetically, nudging Jay for laughing at him. 

As slowly as possible, Sunghoon pushes his chair from the table and stands up, following you to the corner of the references section where only anthropology students in scratchy thrift store knits, and Jay, come to check out encyclopaedias by volume. You look good, save for the rage written all over your face—which, honestly, Sunghoon thinks he likes.

Sunghoon isn’t sure what to expect, so he says, “Hey.” He’s being cautious, waiting a moment to gauge your reaction. “What’s gooooood?” His cheeks burn as soon as he closes his mouth around the vowel, but you laugh. You laugh, and it’s beautiful and happy, and you’re laughing because of him—or at him, but he’s glad either way. 

Annoyance quickly clears all traces of amusement on your face. “Were you ever going to tell me we’re spending next week at Mum and Dad’s?” you ask. 

Sunghoon gasps dramatically, clicking his fingers. “I knew there was something I’ve been meaning to do.” 

His attempt at lightening the mood falls flat, and you only nudge his shoulder gently, sighing. “Can you be serious? For once in your life, even for a second, can you please think about how the things you say affect me?” You’re frowning, crossing your arms over your chest and looking at your feet. “It’s not fair, Sunghoon. For you to keep saying things—making plans involving me and then acting like I’m the bad guy when I turn you down.” 

“I don’t think you’re the bad guy at all,” Sunghoon admits. “If anyone is in the wrong, it’s me, I guess.”

You scoff, looking at him like you hate him. “You guess? Are you serious?” You look furious, but you sound hurt and Sunghoon hates it. Hates himself. “I can’t have this conversation with you right now. Tell mum I’m sick, and it’s contagious.” You roll your eyes and walk away, leaving Sunghoon alone with his thoughts and judgemental stares from students in crochet scarves so long they graze the floor. 

He sighs, slumping against the wall. How does he keep getting it wrong with you? 

Back at the table, Sunghoon manages to act like he’s not falling apart and makes some serious headway on his missing assignments with Heeseung’s help before they call it a day as the sun starts to set. 

When he gets home, he lies down on his bedroom floor, spending hours poring over the conversation you had. Over the minute changes in your facial expression, the tone of your voice, and the endless list of things he should have done, rather than watch you walk away. 

The moment feels familiar, both identical to and worlds apart from what happened after you left three months ago. When he managed to scrape the last shreds of his dignity from the kitchen table, he dragged his feet to his room and lay down like he is now, face to the rug. That day, he left his door open and lay so still that Jake thought he was dead. Sunghoon remembers wishing he had been. 

For once in your life, even for a second, can you please think about how the things you say affect me? The words run on a loop in his mind, over and over, until he can’t remember the order of the sentence or where you put emphasis. They’re cutting all the same. 

Sunghoon sighs into the itchy fibres of his black rug before rolling onto his back. In the diminishing purple light of the setting sun. he looks at the walls of his room. At the Fleetwood Mac poster, he stole from Jay when they moved out of their first year dorm, that curls away from the wall towards the ceiling—a diagonal strip of shiny tape being the only indication of the otherwise invisible tear through the face of Stevie Nicks. 

He’s glad when his phone rings, cutting through the quiet, though the sight of your name and the anatomical heart emoji next to it only dampens his spirit. Reluctantly, Sunghoon answers the phone, holding it to his ear. 

“I just got off the phone with Dad..” You trail off. Tangible silence follows, so thick it weighs on his chest. “I’ll go home with you.” 

“You will?” 

“Yes. Goodbye.” 

Sunghoon reaches your flat at five in the evening. You don’t smile when you open the door for him, nor do you invite him in. Instead, you dump your bag at your feet and he cringes, looking from the floor to you. You’re aggressively beautiful and cosy-looking as you pull a jacket over the sweater you wore that night. Sunghoon’s heart aches in his chest and he wonders if you even realise. Suddenly, the memory of the last thing you said the morning after hits him like a truck: Then let’s not be friends at all. 

A familiar weight lands on his shoulder—your hand. Concern lines your eyes as you ask if he’s okay. 

With a lump in his throat, Sunghoon nods. 

In the discomfort of his car, the two of you sit in silence while he starts the drive home. 

“How’s Yeonjun,” he asks, eyes flicking towards you but regretting it immediately when he sees how you clench your jaw. 

“No,” you say simply, shaking your head. “You don’t get to ask me about him.” 

These are the only words you exchange until Sunghoon stops for petrol. He has enough fuel for the rest of the journey, but he feels like dying and thinks the fresh air might quell his thoughts of running his car off the road. Like always, the two of you get out and head into the kiosk, where he follows you wordlessly through the aisles, watching you debate on snack choices before settling on the same things you always get. Sunghoon pays for your snacks and you roll your eyes but don’t protest, mumbling thanks as you take them into your arms, leading the way back outside.

He knows he needs to tell you before you reach the house, but he’s not entirely sure how to say it—so he just does. “My, uh.. my parents think we’re dating.”

You stop so suddenly in front of him that he almost bumps into you. Stepping around you, Sunghoon keeps walking. 

Over the top of his car, he watches your face cycle through all five stages of grief until anger comes back around in the loop as you scoff. “Why do they think that?” Your face is devoid of expression now, the blankness over your features dragging a sharp chill over his spine. 

He stares blankly at you, processing. “Because I told them we’re dating,” he mumbles. 

“Why did you.. do that?” You tilt your head, eyes pressing shut in a long blink. “What are you even talking about? Why did you.. What?” 

A thin layer of sweat coats his palms despite the cold. Why did he do that? “We can stage a breakup during the trip or say we broke up right now,” Sunghoon offers. “Just one night, YN, please.” 

The wind whistles by, ruffling your hair and jacket that you hug tightly to your chest. Behind you, Sunghoon takes note of the group of girls standing by the pumps, all five of them jerking their heads abruptly when they notice him watching, suddenly finding interest in the scattered litter and flickering halogen bulbs in the steel canopy over their heads. 

You’re staring when he looks back at you, nostrils twitching with a sniffle before you sigh. “Or we could say that you’re a liar and end things there,” you say. “Or better yet, you go down there on your own and tell them the truth.”

Sunghoon’s gaze drops, his thoughts racing in his mind. He knows you’re right. At some point, his parents will have to find out, and it’d be better for them to find out now. Sunghoon sighs, nodding. “Alright,” he concedes. “I’ll take you back.”

An angry laugh comes out of you as you shake your head. “No need, I’ll walk.” 

The station you’re at is neatly nestled in the middle of nowhere, on a road so narrow he’s not even sure it has a pavement. You’re halfway through the three-hour drive, so there’s no telling how long the walk would be, never mind the fact that the sun is already setting and it’s deep enough into October for the wind to sting. 

“From here?” he asks, incredulous. 

“Yes, open the boot so I can get my bag.” 

Sunghoon can only bring himself to say your name, a desperate whisper. 

“Open the boot.”

He repeats your name as if it’ll make a difference, he’s pleading with you, begging—though he doesn’t know for what. 

You go to the back of his car where Sunghoon joins you, a pit in his stomach when you step away. With misty eyes, you look up at him and his heart breaks. “Please.”

Sunghoon knows you well enough to know that you’re not actually going to attempt the walk home but also knows that you won’t back down if he keeps challenging you. He nods, opening the boot for you and getting into the driver’s seat—your move. 

You stand there, unmoving, and long enough passes that he thinks you’ll actually leave. The boot closes softly and you join him in the passenger seat. You sigh, buckling your seatbelt. “Let’s just get this over with.” 

For the rest of the journey, you sit in silence as Sunghoon briefs you on the relationship, fighting a smile as he thinks about being your boyfriend—even if only for a night. You scoff when he ‘reminds’ you that you’ve been together for four months now and the only reason you haven’t been able to come home recently is that your schedules don’t match up very well anymore—which couldn’t be further from the truth as, before term started, you went out to celebrate the fact that your class schedules couldn’t be more suited for seeing each other. 

Finally, at Sunghoon’s childhood home, the two of you smile and laugh for his parents before going to bed. Your relationship has only made his mother more averse to the idea of you sharing a room under her roof than she had been when you were younger. He’s relieved about this, and in the solitude of his bedroom, he lies on the duvet of his twin bed, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about the last few hours. 

With his parents, you’d sat up in the living room watching TV. They sat on the couch together, his mum nestled in his dad’s side, while you two sat on the couch opposite, mirroring their position. If your complete stiffness was anything to go by, you were less than comfortable with his arm around you and Sunghoon felt terrible for begging you to go along with this. It was after midnight when you all went upstairs and you let him kiss your forehead before all but slamming the door to the guest room in his face. His heart twirled and his mum beamed at him before saying goodnight again. 

Now, at 3 a.m. he can’t sleep. Flinching at the knock on his door, he furrows his brows and goes to open it. It’s you. Standing there with your hair scraped away from your face in one of his t-shirts. Your eyes are red, brimmed with tears as you step into his room and sit on his bed. 

He closes the door softly, heart aching at the sight of you so upset, and when he sits next to you, his heart tears apart because you move over, putting a distance between you. It falls out of his chest onto the floor when he realises you’re not wearing your necklace. 

Sunghoon suspected you might have stopped wearing it, it only made sense that if you didn’t want him, you wouldn’t want the necklace he bought for you either, but at least earlier, your sweatshirt sat so high he couldn’t see if you had it on or not. 

It was a gift for your sixteenth birthday, after your first heartbreak. He was so upset and angry that you let some loser hurt you that way, upset and angry that someone could be loved by you and fuck it up. Sunghoon was inspired by Jay, who’d gotten a pretty necklace for his girlfriend, and talked about her cute reaction for weeks, how happy she was to have a piece of him with her all the time. It was a locket, with a picture of Jay in one side and a picture of her in the other so the pictures would kiss when she wore it. 

While at the jewellers with Jake, Sunghoon thought something like that might be a bit much for the two of you and eventually picked out an equally pretty piece with his first initial on it. He wrote a corny note to put in the box, something about how ‘boys come and go but Sunghoon is forever’ and gave it to you with trembling hands a few nights later—it was the first time he ever made you cry. Immediately, he thought he’d done something wrong and was ready to snatch the box and run back to the jewellers (even though he trashed the receipt). You hugged him and told him you loved him. Sunghoon’s been riding that high ever since. 

Until tonight at least. 

“Are you okay?” he whispers. 

“I’ll do it, Hoon.” Your eyes lift from the floor to meet his gaze. “For as long as you need me to, I’ll pretend.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, Sunghoon feels lighter, an unbearable weight slipping from his shoulders. You haven’t called him ‘Hoon’ in ages, and he can’t tell if you’ve said it out of vulnerability, or even noticed that you’ve said it at all, but it warms his heart nonetheless. However, he’s not fully at ease, still curious about your sudden change of heart and why you’re crying. 

“What happened?”

You pull him into a hug, and his eyes bulge out of his head. “It doesn’t matter,” you say, the words muffled by the skin at the base of his neck. 

For as long as he’s known you, you’ve smelled like vanilla, a sweet warmth that grounds him. Yet it’s only after these months apart that he’s able to put a name to the sensation: home. The realisation of how much he’s missed this feeling, missed you, floods him with a rush of emotion so overwhelming he can’t find the words to press the issue. A moment passes before he remembers to hug you back, his arms finally wrapping around you, pulling you close, and you sink into his hold. Months ago, he would have kissed the top of your head and mumbled reassurance into your hair, but tonight, Sunghoon settles for stroking the back of your head and hopes it’s enough. 

“You can talk to me, you know? You can always talk to me.”

A heavy silence follows, sharp as a dagger—scraping his skin, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on edge and lodging itself between his shoulder blades. Sunghoon’s breath hitches in his throat when you cling onto him even tighter, shifting so close you’ve had to settle in his lap. His heart races in his chest, pounding a rhythm so loud it fills the room. 

Finally, you speak, assuring him that you know and that you’re okay. At this, Sunghoon holds you as tight as he can, and neither of you speaks for the rest of the night. You fall asleep like this, in his arms, so deeply that you don’t even stir when he lies down. 

Rubbing your back, he watches the clock on his nightstand, the piercing green LED digits cycling through two whole hours right before his stinging eyes until you wake up. Sunghoon presses his eyes shut, pretending to be asleep when you kiss his cheek and leave his room. 

For the entire morning, you stay in your room, and although Sunghoon is concerned, he decides not to bother you. In the afternoon, he sits at the dining table with his mum, listening as she talks about work. When she asks him, he gets up to make a cup of tea for her. It’s at that moment when you finally come downstairs, looking so effortlessly pretty. Your hair is still damp from the shower, and you’re bundled up in one of his old sweatshirts. There’s a bright grin on your face that leaves his heart thudding. 

“Baby!” you squeal when you see him, charging towards him and wrapping your arms around him from behind. “Good morning.” Your words are muffled against the back of his t-shirt, and the four-letter word, and the sugar coating it, make his cheeks burn. 

“It’s great to see you too, YN,” his mum says with a smile. “My night was amazing; I slept very well and had no dreams.” 

You let go of Sunghoon and walk over to the table, kissing his mum on the cheek and wishing her a good morning as well. “Sorry, mum, how are you?” 

His mother doesn’t seem to have the heart to correct you either, allowing your 3 p.m. ‘good morning’ to go unnoticed. 

Sunghoon carefully fills both mugs to the brim and, with extra caution, carries them to the table. He places a steaming cup of peppermint tea in front of his mum and a milky coffee in front of you. A warm smile spreads across your face as you mouth a ‘thank you’, and his knees turn to jelly. 

The next day, after eating an early dinner with his parents at the table, the four of you go out on a walk along the bike path you used to take for school. His parents have gone ahead, not intentionally, but because Sunghoon can’t stop you from dragging your feet. 

As with most things in the town where you grew up, nothing about the trail has changed. The leaves are yellowing in standard form for the season, and crunching under his feet with each step he takes. The only foreign experience is the silence that you’re determined to uphold. Everything Sunghoon says to you is met with either a hum, a nod, or no acknowledgement at all. At this point, he feels like he could drop dead at your side and the most you’d do is step over his body like a fallen branch. 

After letting you go ahead, the weathered slats of the wooden footbridge sag in the middle under his tread. It’s been like this for as long as he can remember and he wonders how nothing has been done about it. The stream rushes under it, loud and unruly, the smell of wet grass both comforting and suffocating as you look over the railing. It’s like something from a postcard, the low-hanging branches sweeping back and forth under the breeze, the grass lush and green around the path, murky water thrashing against the mud and rocks underneath with you in the middle of the frame, peering over the edge.

You keep walking when Sunghoon approaches, leaving him alone on the creaky bridge with nothing but the ache in his chest. He looks up, staring at the grey clouds in the sky through the gaps in the leaves, and sighs. 

Eventually, he catches up with you, grabbing your hand and locking his fingers with yours when his parents slow down. You stiffen, looking up at him with cut eyes and a creased brow. “What are you doing?”

Sunghoon matches your clipped tone. “Holding my girlfriend’s hand.” 

“No one’s looking, boyfriend.”

“You think my parents aren’t going to wonder why we’re lagging behind?” 

A scoff—your fingers remain defiantly stiff. “Do you think your parents are going to care whether or not we’re holding hands?” 

“My mum might after the show you put on yesterday afternoon, baby.” Bitterness covers the word like a blanket, a stark departure from how you said it. 

A long sigh rumbles its way out of you before you fix your lips into a strained grin. “Sorry, sweetheart, this is my first time pretending to be in love.” 

As your words hang in the air, Sunghoon’s emotions brew like a storm within him. Frustration gnaws at his patience. All hopes for a smooth week are dashed, though determination simmers in his chest with a strong resolve to make this work, to fix your relationship. It doesn’t stop the sharp pang of hurt piercing his stomach—he knows you don’t feel the same way, he knows you’re faking, but the word ‘pretending’ hits him like a truck anyway. 

“We held hands all the time when we were friends,” he points out.

Your smile drops immediately, hurt flashing behind your eyes. “Yeah, and now we’re not.” 

If there was a competition for who could hurt Sunghoon’s feelings the most, you’d be a shoo-in for first place. With distinction. 

“Exactly!” he says, feeling the sting of his own words. “Because now we’re dating.”

At the sight of his mum turning around, you switch up in an instant. Lock your fingers with his, wrapping an arm around his bicep, leaning into him, giggling. It’s forced but his parents are far enough away that all that matters is the curve of your lips.

“You two okay back there?” she asks. 

“Perfect! I feel like a kid again!” you call back, beaming up at Sunghoon in a way that makes his stomach flutter even though it doesn’t meet your eyes. 

The two of you don’t talk at all when you get home, with you hugging his parents goodnight and running up the stairs. 

“She’s not feeling too well,” he explains, nodding when his dad tells him to make you some tea. 

His parents spend the whole day at work, and you spend the whole day following him around like a shadow until the evening when they return. He doesn’t pretend not to like it.

Sunghoon helps you make dinner, turning leftover rice into fried rice with the help of some eggs and vegetables. It’s nice moving around the kitchen with you, watching you scramble eggs in his t-shirt and bump his hip with a playful frown when he eats some of the peppers you’re chopping. 

His parents watch from the table, cooing over the two of you and he does his best to fight the blush forming on his cheeks and neck. Embarrassed, he hugs you from behind, hiding his face in your neck—the scent of your coconut conditioner mixing with your vanilla perfume doesn’t do anything to stop the flush. 

Over a bottle of wine, the four of you eat together at the table, swapping stories about your days. Sunghoon tries to hide his surprise as you lie about the time you spent at the play park by your primary school, competing for height on the swings and spinning on the roundabout until you couldn’t stand up. You grin at him, and it meets your eyes as you hold his hand under the table, and kiss his cheek.

After eating, his parents head upstairs, leaving to clean up together. You hum a song he’s never heard as you load the dishwasher, carefully placing the plates and cutlery in the rack, shaking your head when he hands you the glasses you’d used. 

“Leave ours,” you say. “If you want.” 

Sunghoon nods, putting them back on the table, where you sit in the seat across from the one he was sitting in. He sits too, staying quiet rather than saying the wrong thing. You don’t speak either. It’s reminiscent of the past—the hours you’d spend in the same room, only speaking to share a funny post you’d come across or to ask if you were hungry. 

His eyes track your movements—reaching for the half-empty bottle on the table to pour yourself another glass, filling it to the brim. Before putting it down, you offer him some, filling his glass too when he nods. The three glasses of wine he’s already had must be the reason he wants to reach across the table and hold your hand, run his thumb over the soft skin on the back of it. 

Sunghoon doesn’t know why you’ve been so nice to him all day or why it makes his chest hurt. 

“You know you don’t have to be nice to me when we’re alone, right?” The words come out before he can stop them.

Over the top of your glass, your brows knit together. A sound of confusion, a low hum, comes from your throat as you try to finish your sip. “What?” you ask finally. 

“I only asked you to do this because of my parents, you know? You don’t have to sit or talk with me when they’re not around.” 

Sunghoon’s known you long enough to recognise the look that flashes across your face. The way your eyes narrow and your brows tug together, the little pout that sets on your lips before you speak; you’re hurt.

“Why can’t I just be nice to you because it’s the right thing to do?” 

Because it hurts, is what he wants to say. He wants to cry, to beg you to forget everything he said that day. “Because I don’t want to make you any more uncomfortable than I already have.” Is what he settles for. 

Your face softens. “I don’t feel uncomfortable around you, Hoon. We were best friends for ages, I don’t think you could ever make me uncomfortable.” You pause to take a gulp of wine. “Why can’t I just want to be nice to you?” 

Sunghoon has to chew on his cheek to distract himself from how much your word choice stings. The implications of were and all of your past tense. “I’m sorry,” he says. 

“What for?” 

“Everything.” 

There’s a sadness in the way you run your fingers on the base of your glass. The way you chew on your lip, how your hair falls when you tilt your head and how it moves when you shake it. “It’s not your fault,” you say. “I don’t know anyone who would choose to have unrequited feelings for their best friend.” 

Wow, he thinks. You’re on a roll. Sunghoon wonders if you’re meticulously choosing your phrasing to upset him. Wonders why you feel the need to remind him that his feelings aren’t reciprocated as if he didn’t live through and spend hours reliving the day he confessed. 

“But I didn’t have to tell you about it. It was unfair of me to spring that on you when I knew about Yeonjun.” 

“Did you.. did you think I was going to leave him for you?” 

“Maybe?” Sunghoon chews on his lip—he has no idea what he thought would happen. “I think I thought I loved you enough for both of us, that you might play the part for fun or out of curiosity, and.. I don’t know, just learn to love me.”

“Hoon,” you whisper, frowning. “How could you even think about settling for something like that?” 

Sunghoon shrugs. “It’s not settling if it’s you.” 

Silence takes a seat at the table after he speaks, interrupted only by the ticking clock on the wall—a glittery mess of scrapbooking paper and washi tape layered over each other that Yeji had decorated at summer camp years ago. You’re picking at your fingernails, letting flecks of black polish fall to the table, stark against the varnished oak. 

“I know it’s not my place to ask,” Sunghoon starts after a while, hesitant and only continuing when you nod. “But what did Yeonjun say when you told him? About.. everything?” 

You take a long sip from your glass and sit quietly for so long that he thinks you’re not going to answer him—he doesn’t blame you. 

“I didn’t.” 

He waits for you to elaborate. You don’t. 

Sunghoon nods slowly, deciding not to ask any follow-up questions. Instead, he takes another drink, scrunching his nose at the bitter taste. “He didn’t ask why we stopped hanging out?” he blurts out.

“I told him we fell out but I didn’t say why.” You shrug, but your posture is stiff. 

“Where did you tell him you were going to be this week?” He knows it’s not his business at all, that he’s pushing your boundaries, but he can’t help his curiosity.

“Nowhere.” 

“You told him you were staying on campus?” 

“I didn’t tell him anything.” Your gaze shifts, avoiding his as you toy with the stem of your glass. You drum your nails against it, letting the dull clink ring out. 

“So you just left?” 

“Does it make a difference to you?” 

Sunghoon nods.

For a while, you tug at the drawstrings on your hoodie, pursing your lips to the side, considering this. “Yeonjun and I aren’t together anymore.” Your admission is so shocking that Sunghoon’s jaw drops. He tries to cover his surprise by coughing, his tongue sticking out like a small child. “I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want you to think it was because of you.” 

Sunghoon’s thoughts move at lightspeed, too fast for him to catch onto any of them and process this information. His emotions compete with each other—disbelief, guilt, and a painful glimmer of hope he hadn’t dared to acknowledge until now all at the forefront. 

“Was it?” he asks. “Because of me?” 

You scoff—an incredulous sound that doesn’t match the sad look on your face. “I don’t know, Sunghoon. Do you think my boyfriend used me to make his ex jealous because of you?”

He’s not sure what he expected you to say, but this is.. Complete disbelief eclipses him as his heart sinks in his chest, shock, and guilt bubbling in his stomach. 

“I’m sorry,” he says after too long. “That I wasn’t there. That I haven’t been there.” 

“You didn’t know,” you say, gaze softening as you look up at him. 

“But I made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me about it.” 

You shake your head. “I made me feel like I couldn’t talk to you about it. All you did was change the friendship, I’m the one who ended it.”

“I still should’ve been there.” 

“You’re here now, right?” 

Sunghoon nods, earnestly. “Always.” 

Only one thing comes to mind when you repeat the word ‘always’ before taking a sip from your glass, downing its contents. Sunghoon gets up and crosses the room with wobbly steps to open the fridge, where he pulls out as many bottles of soju as he can hold in his hands and puts them down on the table. He goes back to collect some glasses from the cabinet, puts some of the leftover fried rice from dinner into the microwave, and brings it all over when it’s done, with bowls and utensils. You watch him with a fond smile as he opens a bottle and he hopes you think the flush on his cheeks is from all the drinking you’ve been doing. 

“Is it bad that I’ve missed doing this?” You’re grinning now.

Sunghoon shakes his head, raising his glass. “To YN’s fifteenth heartbreak.” 

You grin, clinking the rim of your glass against his. “To YN’s fifteenth heartbreak,” you repeat. 

Both of you down the glasses, and Sunghoon refills them, pouring the soju with an oddly steady hand. As you eat spoonfuls of rice and sip your drinks, silence settles over the room. The soft glow of the kitchen lights forms a warm ambience, a cosy familiarity that brings up simple memories—doing homework together at the table while gossiping about your classmates, the first New Year after you were both eighteen and had your first drink with his parents. 

For at least an hour, the only sounds are the occasional clinks of forks against bowls, glasses hitting the table, the faint hum of the refrigerator and the steady tick of Yeji’s clock. Sunghoon’s eyes meet yours, and he can’t help but notice the slight change in your expression when they do. 

You clear your throat, running a hand through your hair. “This is my sixteenth, actually.” 

“What?” 

You take a small sip of soju, staring down at the table. “My fifteenth heartbreak was losing you. Yeonjun is my sixteenth.”

In the two days since your soju ceremony, Sunghoon finds himself sinking into the role of your boyfriend like a hot bath. But there’s no use pretending it doesn’t hurt. Pretending it doesn’t hurt when you kiss his cheek before bed, or when you reach out to push the hair out of his face or snuggle into his side on the couch; because it does hurt—a lot. It hurts to think that in three days when you put your bags in the boot of his car, you’ll sit in silence all the way home. When he drops you off at your flat, you’ll close the door in his face and stop talking to him again. These realisations are harder to confront when he’s alone in his room, like now. 

About an hour ago, you asked if you could borrow his car, saying there was something you needed to do on your own. It seemed important, so he handed over his keys with no question. Sighing, Sunghoon gets up from his bed and heads to the shower, where he jerks off to clear his mind. On his way back to his room, he notices the light leaking from the open kitchen door that illuminates the landing. 

He hears the lock on the front door clicking, and stands at the top of the stairs, dripping water onto the carpet while listening attentively. His ears perk up when he hears a gasp—his mother. 

“What’s this for?” she asks. 

“I just..” You trail off. “I know it’s not much, but I wanted to thank you both for always looking after me.” You pause, and Sunghoon holds his breath, waiting. Your voice trembles as you continue. “It’s been hard since my parents went back home, and I guess it was still hard when they were here, but you both supported me. I don’t think I could’ve managed without you guys. I want to make you guys proud, you know? And I’m trying, really, so this is me saying thank you. I’m sorry it took me so long.” 

He grips the railing by the landing, digging his nails into the wood until they start hurting—an ache in his fingertips that makes him wince. 

An odd feeling settles in his stomach, a bittersweetness tinged in his fondness for you, and the gentle shock of realising how much his parents have done for you. Growing up, you became an honorary member of Sunghoon’s family. His parents showered you with gifts during holidays and birthdays, which you often celebrated with them rather than your own family. 

The memory of your parents’ sudden decision to move across the country still lingers, and Sunghoon vividly recalls the tearful conversation he overheard at the top of the stairs. Your parents understood the enormity of their request but had earnestly asked if Sunghoon’s parents could continue looking after you. 

His chest tightens when you start crying. 

“You don’t have to thank us for anything, sweetie. Just you being here and taking care of our boy is more than enough thanks. You never forget our birthdays, and you always come and visit when you can. You’re doing a great job, and you should give yourself some credit,” his dad says, a little choked up. “We’ve always been proud of you.” 

Sunghoon’s eyes sting with tears and his skin gets dry in the spots where the water from the shower is evaporating. He presses his fingers to his closed eyes, forcing a few tears to fall and walks the rest of the way to his room with his eyes shut. He can’t hear anything through his closed bedroom door, which he decides is a good thing as he coats himself in moisturiser and swipes deodorant under his arms with intention to spend the whole night alone. Once he’s dressed, he gets into bed and pretends not to be bothered by the way his wet hair dampens his pillow. Under the duvet, he tosses and turns before sighing and heading to Yeji’s room.

In her absence, the room’s subtle transformation is stark. The sage green-painted walls, once a backdrop to the A3 faces of Wave to Earth and Beabadoobee, now bear the faint imprints of those missing posters. Tiny, shadowy rectangles are the only remnants of the 6x4-sized pictures of her and her friends, of her and Sunghoon, that she took away with her to school.

Her hairdryer is still on her desk where she’d left it for him to use and he sits in her stiff wooden chair, plugging it in. The airflow starts immediately, hot and loud, humming throughout the space as he runs his fingers through his wet hair, feeling cosy under the heat. His shampoo is fresh and soapy scented under his nose, and his reflection watches him in Yeji’s mirror, eyes red and concerned while his hair blows around his head. Sunghoon closes his eyes and finishes his hair, sighing as he lets his worries slip under the whir of the fan. 

Finished, he shuts off the dryer and opens his eyes, flinching at your reflection in the doorway behind him with a soft smile on your face. “Mum and Dad are going to open a bottle of wine if you want to join,” you say, meeting his eyes in the mirror. 

Sunghoon can’t find it in himself to speak, only nodding in response. You smile wider but don’t move. He unplugs the hairdryer and leaves it on the desk where he found it before crossing the room. Without giving himself a chance to think about it, he pulls you into a hug and kisses the top of your head, smiling into your hair when you wrap your arms around his waist, holding him closer. 

You’re sitting on the edge of the bathtub, mumbling sleepily that you’re never going to drink again, and Sunghoon leans over the sink brushing his teeth, he’s glad you have the decency to cover your mouth as you speak. 

“Brush your teeth and go back to sleep then,” he mumbles around his toothbrush. 

You don’t respond. 

Sunghoon sighs through his nose, spitting foamy toothpaste into the sink, leaving bubbly, blue splatters on the porcelain. “And quit staring at me, I can feel your beady little eyes on the back of my neck and it’s freaking me out.” 

“But you’re so pretty,” you coo. 

There’s a flutter in his stomach and he rinses off the sink and his mouth, buying himself some time. With a hand on the Listerine, he lifts his gaze to meet yours in the mirror and stops short. You’re still staring at him, features soft and glowing under the afternoon light. You look like an angel; a gentle smile spreading over your lips, and a sleepy glint sparkling in your eyes, wide and gorgeous as you watch him. Sunghoon gulps, mumbling his thanks and looking back at himself. He hopes you can’t see the flush on his cheeks. 

“Go back to sleep,” he says. 

“Will you come and lie down with me if I do?” Your voice is a sleepy drawl, coming out in a slow, high-pitched slur, and your eyes are closing on themselves. 

Lying down doesn’t sound like a terrible idea, especially not if it’s with you, so he nods. “If you brush your teeth, then yeah, baby, I’ll lie down with you.” 

You chuckle softly at Sunghoon’s agreement, the sound carrying a mix of exhaustion and genuine amusement, showing no repulsion to him calling you the B-word. He didn’t mean to, it’s been a confusing few days. You nod, saluting to him and getting up to join him by the sink, using your hip to bump him out of the way, but he feels like he’s glued to the spot. 

“Move, baby,” you mumble sleepily, reaching for your toothbrush. “We can cuddle in my bed,” you suggest, to which Sunghoon only nods, taking your words as a cue to unstick his feet from the floor and go to your room, playing the word ‘baby’ on a loop in his head. 

He stands in the doorway staring at your bed, the duvet is all crumpled in the middle, and the pillows are in an L shape at the top corner. He sighs, he can’t go on like this, can’t stand around hoping even a tiny part of you called him ‘baby’ and it meant something for you as it did for him. It’s not fair for him to project his feelings on you like this, but he can’t help it. You’re already pretending for his parents, so would it be so bad to pretend for his sake as well? Even if only until the day after tomorrow when you leave? 

The sound of the bathroom door shutting behind you snaps him out of his thoughts, your bright smile making his heart race when you tug him by the sleeve to your bed where the mattress dips underneath you as you curl into his form, resting your head on his chest and falling asleep. You’ve shared the bed before, countless times, but he knows you’ve only asked him because you’re tired. Because your brain is foggy with drowsiness that clouds your judgement, not because you want him there, not because you miss him when he’s two doors down the hall, tossing and turning at night thinking about you. He wonders absently if you can feel his aching heart beating through his chest, a painful, yet all too familiar rhythm that pulls his own eyes shut, plunging him into a deep sleep too.

It’s dark in the room when he wakes up, the sun already down behind the curtains and the soft yellow of the bedside lamp casting a glow around the space. You’re staring up at him, smiling and you don’t look away when he catches you. “What is it?” he asks, voice thick with sleep. 

“Nothing,” you mumble. “I just missed you.” Sunghoon has no time to respond or even register what you said before you clear your throat, speaking again.  “Come on, dad’s cooking tonight, he’ll need help.” 

Helping Sunghoon’s dad with dinner always looks an awful lot like Sunghoon eating snacks on the kitchen counter and staring at you as you help his dad cook. Tonight is no exception, he’s sitting on the island, and his snack of choice is a family pack of Chilli Heatwave Doritos his mum bought for Yeji. He’ll have to remember to replace them before leaving seeing as he’s reaching the halfway point. 

You go back and forth with his dad about measurements, with you rummaging through the drawers for measuring cups while his dad says it’s best to trust your gut. Reluctantly, you nod, chewing the inside of your cheek as you watch him eyeball the seasoning. 

The gas stove turns the kitchen into an oven, and you complain about it while opening a window, pulling your hoodie over your head and leaving it in Sunghoon’s lap. Time stops when you grin at him, the light from the stove hood illuminating the necklace you’re wearing, his initial resting on your chest and glowing under the light. He chokes around a crisp when he sees it, catching your attention with his coughing. 

“You’ll spoil your dinner, snacking like that, baby,” you scold, using a hand to push his knee. “We’re almost done, I swear.” 

All he can do is nod, cheeks burning as he folds the crisp packet over before putting it back in the bread bin where he found it. 

“Wow,” his dad says, resting his hands on his hips and shaking his head in amusement. “Being in love looks good on him, he’d never have listened if I said that.” 

It’s already your last day when Sunghoon picks up Yeji from school. She grumbles for the entire half-hour drive and all the way to the front door about why the two of you couldn’t have started the trip today instead of ending it, but all of her irritation dissolves when she sees you in the hallway, leaving the front door wide open to fling her arms around you. You and Yeji exchange compliments for a while — You look so pretty. No, you look so pretty. I love your hair. I love your hair. — as Sunghoon locks the door and watches with a smile.

“God.” Yeji sighs, holding you by the waist and craning her neck up to look at you, as you push some of her hair from her face, pinning back her wispy bangs with the palm of your hand. Yeji giggles. “I’m so happy you two are together, even though I have no idea what a girl like you sees in my loser brother.” 

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, leaning back against the wall. Despite his mild irritation at Yeji’s words, he finds the sight of you with her so adorable his stomach flutters. Over the top of Yeji’s head, you look at him with a fond smile. “He’s not so bad.” 

It doesn’t sound like a compliment, but Sunghoon takes it to heart. 

Like always, Yeji manages to capture your undivided attention and the two of you giggle and whisper with each other all afternoon while Sunghoon watches, too enamoured by the sight to care about being left out. An hour or so passes like this, until his parents get home from work, excited to see Yeji after a few weeks, and you leave her side, coming to cuddle with Sunghoon instead. 

It’s nice being home with everyone, laughing and sharing a meal before his family walks the two of you to his car with at least a month’s worth of cooked food for you to share at university. Yeji makes you pinky promise that she can visit you and waves with a pout on her face until the car is out of view.

Contrary to what he’d been expecting, the drive back is nice. Your playlist is on, and you’re telling him about all the new songs you added, catching him up on things with Chaewon and Yunjin, and all the things you got up to in the time you spent apart. You tell him about a new café that opened up near your place and how you’ll have to go together when he has the time, and Sunghoon bites his tongue before telling you that he always has time for you. The first half of the trip goes on like this but you start dozing off around the halfway mark, your sentences becoming few and far between, eventually turning into half-mumbled thoughts that end prematurely. 

You’re still asleep when he reaches your flat, head propped up against the window with your soft lips parted, looking too pretty and cosy to wake up. Instead, he drives in circles around your block, deciding to wait for you to wake up on your own. It only takes a half-hour but you blink your eyes open, stretching your neck before looking around and out the car window, recognising the street. You don’t say anything, only smiling when you look at him, a small curve of your lips that makes his heart race.

He gets out of the car with you, opening the boot to get your bag before pulling you into his chest for a hug, liking the way your arms settle around his waist. “Thank you,” he mumbles into your hair. 

Sunghoon doesn’t follow you when you take your bag from him, only watching from the back of his car. You don’t notice until you reach the main door, looking over your shoulder and frowning at him. “Aren’t you going to walk me up?” 

The two of you walk in silence up four flights of stairs as the lift in your building is out of order. Your bag feels much heavier in his hand now than it did outside. At your door, he watches you dig around for your keys, sighing with relief when you find them. 

“Do you want to come in?” you ask from your open doorway.

“I—uh—I have training in the morning and I’m already pretty tired, so..” He trails off.

Unfazed, you nod. “Right, of course. I had fun this week.” 

“Yeah, me too.” 

You smile at him, sweet and sincere. “Text me when you get home, yeah?” 

Sunghoon nods, saying goodbye. Out of habit, he doesn’t leave your doorstep until he hears the lock click shut, and walks back to his car with his head down. 

True to his word, he sends you a text to let you know he got back to his place safely and you read it immediately but don’t reply. It’s empty in the apartment, Jake is out with his football team and the space is larger than usual in his absence. Far too tired to even consider going out and joining him, Sunghoon goes through his night routine, putting his phone on the charger and stepping into the shower where he spends entirely too long wishing he could live in this week forever as he scrubs his body. With brushed teeth and damp hair, he goes back into his room where his phone lights up with a notification; a text, from you.

YN🫀: i’m glad you got home okay, i just got into bed :) i don’t want to make you uncomfortable or overstep or anything and you can say no (obviously).. i’ve been missing you so much and didn’t know how to reach out or if you wanted me to but i had soooo much fun this week and spending time with you again made me happy, so i’d like it if we could keep hanging out, like before yk? ik it’s a long shot ahahaha but just say you’ll think about it? 

hoonie: You’re not overstepping at all, I’ve missed you too, so bad. I had soooo much fun this week as well and I’d like it a lot if we kept hanging out, thank you for agreeing and coming along 😚 If you’re free after Lit tmrw you could come over? Or we could go out and do something, whatever you prefer

hoonie: I missed you so much.. 

hoonie: 🤍

The texts greet you as the first rays of Monday morning light filter into your room, instantly lifting your mood. Your bright smile doesn’t escape Chaewon’s notice as you find her in the kitchen, bathed in the soft light seeping through the sheer curtains. The kettle is boiling with a loud rumble that fills the whole room and leaves her yelling as she speaks to you. 

“Good trip?” she asks, coming over and hugging you. “Never leave me for that long again,” she mumbles into your shirt. 

“It was a week, Wonie,” you say, rolling your eyes even though you missed her too. 

She leans away, looking at you with knitted brows. “It was nine days.” 

“The longest of my life.” 

Chaewon pulls air through her teeth, tilting her head and releasing you. “That bad, huh?” she asks, walking back to her seat at your tiny square table and shooting you a look that tells you to join her. 

During your trip, you gave her nightly updates over text, so you know she knows how much you enjoyed yourself, but you elaborate anyway, sitting across from her. 

“No, not at all,” you say, shaking your head and trying to fight a smile. “I had fun.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, you have to bite your bottom lip to stop the grin curving them; it doesn’t work. 

Chaewon raises a suggestive brow, crossing her arms over her chest. “How much fun?” 

“You’re disgusting.” 

“I didn’t even say anything!” she defends, holding her hands up. “I made an implication. It was only a matter of time, you two have that whole.. lifelong best friends to lifelong lovers thing going on, and it’s hot.” 

“Shut up.” 

“You’re telling me, you spent nine days playing lovers with Sunghoon and you still don’t want him? You’re a lost cause, people would kill for that chance,” she says, tilting her head. “I think I would kill for that chance.” 

“Don’t touch him.”

“Oh?” 

“Jesus, Chaewon, it’s not like that. Hoon��s too sensitive for your roster.” 

“I never said it was like anything, you’re the one who’s dangling me over the ledge for saying I want to fuck your hot best friend.” 

“Sunghoon isn’t hot; he’s..” You find yourself at a loss for words, unsure how to continue your lie. Of course, Sunghoon is hot, you’ve known since you were seventeen and spent the summer at your grandparents’ house, only to come back to find your previously scrawny best friend having ditched his LEGOs for dumbbells. You sigh. “Just leave him alone.”

Chaewon grins, eyes sparkling as she leaves the table. “Okay,” she says in a singsong voice, leaving you and the irritation in your stomach alone in the kitchen.

You sigh, pressing your eyes shut and trying to will away your discomfort. It’s not like Chaewon would actually try anything with Sunghoon. Right? Even if she did, it wouldn’t bother you, nor would it be any of your business. They’re grownups and reserve the right to explore their options. Still, there’s a nagging feeling you can’t shake, an uninvited guest in the back of your mind. 

When you check your phone, you realise you have half an hour before you need to head to campus, so you leave to get ready and text Sunghoon back on the way to your room.

you: sounds good, see u later 🤍

After showering, you stand in front of your wardrobe, towel hanging from your body as you pick an outfit. For some reason, you feel under pressure, picking a pair of jeans that do the most for your ass and a low-cut top that Sunghoon once — drunkenly — said he loved on you.

You have the residual sting of mouthwash on your tongue, and one foot out the door when your phone vibrates in your hand. 

hoonie: Do you want to head to class together? 

you: sure! i’m omw out, where should i get you? 

hoonie: .. I’m outside your building :D 

Breathing a laugh through your nose, you don’t fight the giddy smile on your face as you make your way downstairs to meet Sunghoon. Through the glass in the main door, he’s standing at the edge of the pavement and kicking a stone between his feet. The top of his puffer jacket covers the bottom half of his face, and the draught nips your skin when the door opens. Two girls you vaguely recognise stumble in with smudged makeup and heels in their hands, smiling at you while holding the door to let you out.

“Hey!” you call out, jogging over to him. 

Sunghoon turns around, his head poking out of his jacket to grin at you, holding a travel cup and an abundance of tinfoil in your direction. 

“I wasn’t sure if you’d have eaten anything yet, you don’t normally in the morning,” he says, a sheepish smile spreading over his lips when you take it. “Matcha. Ham and cheese toastie.” 

“Did you make these?” you ask, inspecting the familiar cup and appreciating the warmth it provides. 

He hums, nodding his head.

You ignore the heat spreading over your cheeks and thank him with a hug, grinning when he offers to hold your drink while you eat on the walk. The toastie is still hot, the cheese coming close to burning your tongue as you chew, but you appreciate it wholeheartedly, humming contently with each bite. When you’re done, you shove the foil into your pocket, taking your drink from him and smiling around the sweet taste of a matcha latte as he tells you about his schedule for the day. 

“I’m meeting with Coach after class to talk about my grades, but I’m all yours after that.” 

“Talk about your grades? What’s wrong with your grades?” 

Sunghoon groans, head falling back and highlighting the bump of his Adam’s apple. “My grades are.. I failed my coursework this month, so I have resubmissions during finals, and I think he’ll bench me if I fail again.” 

He sounds like he’s being serious, and if the look on his face is anything to go by, he is. The news creases your brows because for as long as you remember, Sunghoon’s grades were your parents’ favourite point of comparison.

“Really?” you ask. He nods. “What’s up? Is something the matter?” 

A humourless laugh slips out of him before he pulls air through his teeth. “Yeah, my best friend didn’t talk to me for three months.” 

“Oh..” Guilt stirs your stomach as you look up at him. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not blaming you, it’s not like I was trying to talk and you ignored me.” He nudges your arm with his elbow, giving you a warm smile. “But if you feel as guilty about it as you look, you can tutor me for Lit.” 

“Deal.” 

Sunghoon grins, wrapping his arm over your shoulders and holding you close; the action itself isn’t unusual, but the increased heart rate it brings about is. “You’re too good to me,” he says, holding onto you for the rest of the walk to class.

At his request, you sit with Sunghoon in the back row, watching as the lecture hall gradually fills up in front of you. He seems well-prepared, with his laptop and a small notepad and pen neatly arranged on the desk in front of him.

Throughout the class, your eyes inadvertently track his every move. He diligently types up colour-coded notes, occasionally pausing to write things in his notepad before continuing to type or stopping entirely to listen. There’s something melodic about his actions and the way his fingers run over the keyboard. 

During a five-minute break, you glance at his screen. What you find is more than just lecture content; it’s a document adorned with Sunghoon’s own musings about Hemingway’s style and carefully analysed quotations that go beyond the class discussion.

“How are your notes so good?” 

“I picked up the book over the summer when you mentioned it,” Sunghoon replies with a shrug, a shy smile playing on his lips as he leans back in his seat. “I liked it.” 

A slow nod is your response, though your thoughts swirl like autumn leaves in a breeze. The last time Sunghoon read for leisure, you were in primary school, buddy reading Diary of a Wimpy Kid. But this—this is different. You can’t help but stare at him, awestruck as you take him in. His eyes are wide, shining amber in the sunlight as he pushes some of his hair from his face, frowning when it falls back where it was. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” he mumbles. 

Sunghoon takes a new line in his document and points at the screen where you watch the cursor move through the words he’s typing: I would’ve read and annotated the Bible if you wanted me to..

There’s no time to digest what he wrote or the funny feeling in your chest as you reread it before he deletes the whole sentence, pressing his lips together and looking out the window. Speechless, you stare at his side profile, willing your heart rate to slip back to normal. Steep-sloping nose, plump lips flattened into a line, two points of the triangular mole constellation on his face. Analysis worsens your condition, breath hitching in your throat before stopping entirely. Warmth and trepidation blend within you, fuzzy enough at the edges to seem like one thing—a single force that makes your palm itch with desire, desperation, to reach out and run a finger over his features, feel the bump of the mole on his nose — the most prominent — against your skin. 

You remain this way — silent, watching — even when your lecturer resumes the lesson, and Sunghoon starts typing, writing, and listening again. Polite enough to pretend he doesn’t notice your gaze searing into his face.

After class, and his meeting with Coach, you let Sunghoon lead the conversation and the way to your flat, where you find Chaewon and Yunjin sitting on the couch, whispering to themselves while the two of you study at the coffee table. It’s uncomfortable, an awkward height, too high for the way you’re sitting but you feel calm under the supervision of Chaewon and Yunjin—you won’t do anything to merit teasing in front of them, no matter how badly you want to feel Sunghoon’s face in your hands or stroke his cheekbones with your thumbs. 

To the best of your ability, you answer the questions he has for you—he’d written a ton in his tiny notepad during class, his own concerns clear with each neatly-penned iteration of: How to see actions/dialogue for what they are and not what I want them to be? written in the margins and you try not to feel heartbroken for him.

Three hours have passed by when you walk him to the door, the two of you wrapped up in a bubble so secure you’re surprised to find Chaewon and Yunjin still sitting on the couch. They don’t say anything about Sunghoon in his absence, or the fact he’d given you his sweater when he noticed you were cold. You’re not sure why their silence disappoints you.

Instead, Yunjin asks you about trivial things like dinner while Chaewon sits in silence. 

“What flavour for ice cream?” Yunjin asks, rolling her eyes when you tug on the blanket but not complaining. “And don’t say something ridiculous like mint chocolate, YN.” 

“That happened once! And it was three years ago.. How was I supposed to know you hate fun?” 

Chaewon leans into you, letting you curl your limbs around her from behind as you rest your chin on her shoulder, liking the way her clean scent tickles your nose. 

“Mint-cho isn’t that bad,” she starts. “It’s a little jarring, sure, but it’s kind of sweet. Like watching people come to terms with their feelings for each other.” 

You nod your head, humming in understanding and furrowing your brows when Yunjin scoffs, staring straight at you. Her tone is equal parts cutting and loving, so you know she’s not trying to insult you, but don’t know what she means when she says, “It must be so nice to be as oblivious as you.” 

Yunjin never elaborates, and you never ask, actually feeling the statement’s journey in through one of your ears and out the other when dinner arrives. The three of you share pizza, ice cream, and secrets — the three pillars of 20-something-teenage-girlhood — at the kitchen table, with Chaewon sitting in your lap and picking pepperoni from your slices. 

It’s only hours after Yunijn’s gone home, that her words circle back to you, the statement and all of its weight perching on your chest with all the debilitation and persistence of a sleep paralysis demon.

“I think I’m getting sick,” you say as soon as she opens her door. “It’s been coming on for a while now, at least a week, maybe more.” 

Unimpressed and exhausted, Yunjin looks down at you through half-closed eyes. “Do you..” She pinches the bridge of her nose, sighing. “Do you have any idea what time it is right now?” 

“Yes. It’s three a.m.” 

“Exactly. See a doctor if you’re sick, I’m going back to sleep.”

“This is an emergen—” Yunjin cuts you off by pinching your lips together. “It’s three in the morning,” she reminds you. “You can’t yell like that in my hallway, come in.” 

You nod, crossing the threshold and taking off your shoes next to hers. “Sorry,” you whisper when the door is closed. 

Using her hand, Yunjin lifts your chin, squinting as her eyes adjust to the light when she flips the switch to inspect your face. “You don’t look or sound sick,” she mutters, flicking the light back off and going to her room. “What are your symptoms? And why did you come here?” 

You don’t have an answer for her last question so you ignore it, following her and tripping over a pair of her shoes in the process. “My cheeks start burning like crazy and my heart races, sometimes it gets hard to breathe.”

“You seem fine to me.” 

A shoulder-slumping sigh slips from your lips. “That’s the thing. I’ll be fine and then Sunghoon shows up with his pretty smile and perfect hair and I feel like I’ve run a marathon.” You know how it sounds, choosing your wording meticulously to let Yunjin be the one to say the words out loud instead of you—it’ll be easier to confront that way. 

From the doorway, you watch as she arches a brow, her interest piqued. “Oh?” 

“I know.” You nod, head bobbing rapidly in furious agreement. “It’s only a matter of time before I cough up a lung and die in his bedroom.”

At your words, Yunjin doesn't reply, only lifting her duvet and getting cosy underneath. You feel like you’re glued to the spot, waiting for her to say something, anything, but nothing comes. All she does is pat the empty spot in her bed. 

“What are you smirking for?” you ask, entering the room properly and closing the door. 

Her response only comes after you’ve taken your jacket and hoodie off, sitting next to her under the covers. “It’s nothing,” she says, laughing. 

“Tell me.” 

Yunjin sighs, resting a hand gently on your shoulder. You think it’s meant to be comforting but it’s the opposite. “You’ll be fine, I promise. Lovesickness isn’t deadly.” 

Feeling the weight of her reassurance, you settle down properly and sigh when your head hits the pillow. Lovesickness. Hmm. 

Closing your eyes, you try to sleep but can’t help tossing and turning as Yunjin snores behind you. You pat blindly around the end table for your phone, grabbing it and wincing at the brightness of your screen. Chewing on your lip, you open Google, looking up ‘lovesickness’ and frowning immediately at the results. Endless negativity fills the screen, terrifying words like ‘unrequited love’ forming a pit in your stomach. There’s nothing negative about what you feel for Sunghoon, nothing unrequited—you think. 

It was obvious during the trip, painfully so. In the way he’d tuck your hair behind your ear when his parents weren’t there to see, or how he slipped up and called you ‘baby’ in the bathroom, blushing when you said it back. You can’t fake something like that.. Can you?

Yeonjun did.

Shaking your head, you open Instagram to distract yourself. Jake’s story comes up first; he’s at a party where Jay is losing a game of beer pong, and at the other end of the table is Sunghoon grinning with a bright red lipstick kiss on his cheek. You lock your phone, using your hands to press on your belly to stop the stirring. 

Oh, you think. Lovesickness. 

When you wake up, the first thing you do is check Jake’s story again. The video is still there and that terrible stir in your stomach churns on, burrowing deeply into a pit of canyon-like proportion—so vast there’s a safety railing lining its edges. 

You eat breakfast in silence with Yunjin, zoning out mid-chew to figure out the origin of these feelings and how to handle them. Suddenly, the moment hits you clear as day, vivid like you’re watching it on a screen—it was your third night at his parents’ house, after your walk. 

You felt bad about how you acted, and what you said, so went straight up to your room. With nothing but the bedside lamp turned on, it was dimly lit, shadows cast on the walls as you sulked, replaying everything in your head. Guilt wrapped its long arms around your body, making you feel sick as you thought about it all. About the hurt etched over his face with every word you said, and the frown that stuck around for the rest of the walk as his hand clung limply to yours. 

There was a knock at the door, so gentle you almost missed it, and Sunghoon was standing there when you pulled it open, chewing on his lip with a mug in his hand. Steam skated over the opening, a rich chocolatey smell hitting your nose but the real kicker was the mug itself. In its place on Jake and Sunghoon’s mug tree, it was unassuming, a regular white mug, but upon meeting hot water, the face of young Sunghoon appeared, grinning with his tiny glasses on. It was a gift from one of his old coaches and though he never used it, it was your absolute favourite cup in the world. 

You felt soft around the edges when you looked up at him, his eyes wide and unsure as you met his gaze—he brought that mug three hours across the country so you could use it again. The thought shifted your heart into a comfortable position, settling in your chest with overwhelming warmth and an increased rate. 

“Hi,” you said, clearing your throat. 

“Hi,” he repeated, holding the mug out for you to take. “It’s still hot so be careful.” 

Nodding, you covered your hands with your sleeves, taking the cup from him and asking if he wanted to come in. Sunghoon nodded, shutting the door behind him and standing by the bed, watching you set the hot chocolate on the bedside table as you sat down. The two of you stayed like that for a while, with him only moving when you patted the spot next to you on the duvet. Your train of thought escaped you as soon as he sat down, the warmth of his familiar fresh, citrusy scent taking over and becoming the only thing you could register. The smell of summers with him, long days at the beach and short nights spent on the couch at random parties, cuddled into his side with his arm over your shoulders. The smell you’d come to associate with comfort and home—with Sunghoon. 

“It’s not fair for me to treat you like shit just because I’m annoyed, I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that earlier. I’m sorry.” 

A crease ran over Sunghoon’s thick brows as they tugged together, he shook his head. “You don’t have to apologise. I roped you into this whole thing and didn’t even try to think about how you would feel. I’m sorry.” His eyes carried a mix of regret and sincerity, mirroring the weight of his words.

“Anyway, I only came to bring you that,” he said, pointing at the cup. “And to check up on you, I’ll get out of your hair for tonight.” Sunghoon wiped his palms on his pants before standing up, reaching behind him to pick up the cloth he brought. For a moment, he stood there, staring down at it in his hand while you thought about telling him to stay, telling him that you wanted him in your hair—whatever that meant. But he spoke before you had the chance. “You left this, at mine, after.. well, you know. I’m sure you left it intentionally, I mean it was folded up perfectly on the end of my bed, so I know you did, but it didn’t feel right keeping it, you always wore it more than me.” 

Sunghoon extended his hand, holding it out to you and you knew exactly what it was as soon as the fabric touched your skin after so long. It was the shirt Jay bought him for Christmas in first year—they were roommates still trying to get a feel for each other. For a few weeks, Sunghoon had been pestering you about what he should get for Jay, saying it didn’t feel right not to get him anything, and you suggested a targeted t-shirt, one you’d been laughing at all day after seeing an ad for it on your timeline. Sunghoon was sceptical, but bought the red shirt anyway, hoping Jay would find BEING DAD IS AN HONOUR, BEING PAPA IS PRICELESS funny. He did. And Jay bought Sunghoon a targeted shirt too, your favourite. It was black and two sizes too big, with I NEVER DREAMED I’D BE A SEXY FIGURE SKATER BUT HERE I AM KILLING IT written over the chest. 

“Goodnight, YN,” Sunghoon said, crossing the room to leave but hesitating before closing the door. He poked his head through the opening and sighed. “I really am sorry.”

That night, you fell asleep in the shirt, the thinning, yet cosy, fabric wrapped around you like a hug as your heart started to beat a new rhythm, one that eerily echoed the five-foot-eleven figure skater who you let break it. 

This morning, Yunjin claps her hands in your face, seeming irritated when you look over at her. “You have class in an hour, what are you doing?” Before you have the chance to speak, realisation covers her face. “Oh, the feelings.” 

You nod solemnly, too caught up in the butterflies raiding your stomach to come up with something to say. 

At lightspeed, you scarf down the rest of your food, apologising for showing up so late as you head out the door. When you get home, you take the fastest shower of your life and feel grateful Chaewon isn’t around to tease you about the smile you can’t wipe from your face thinking about Sunghoon—you’ll text her later.

You run to campus, feeling the brisk autumn wind beating against your face while the rest of your body overheats under your jacket, hoodie and long sleeve. Despite the discomfort and ache in your lungs, you don’t stop until you reach the door of your lecture hall, huffing and puffing into the faces of classmates who don’t take any notice. Of course, in a stroke of pure luck, your lecturer is late, and you realise bitterly, that all of your huffing and puffing was in vain—you would have gotten to class with time to spare even if you walked.

It’s not a total waste though; you use the time to update Chaewon. 

you: i have news wonie..  i like sunghoon

wonie: …………….. fork in the kitchen yn what’s the news? 

wonie: OHHHH news to YOU.. can i call? 

She calls you immediately. You answer without thinking because your lecturer still hasn’t arrived, and there’s no one sitting close enough to hear or notice you taking a call. 

“Are you going to tell him?!” Chaewon’s voice is so loud you wince, pulling the phone away from your ear. 

“I don’t know.” You shrug even though she can’t see you, still holding the device at a distance just in case. “I don’t have any confirmation that he still.. likes me. It’s been a while, and I was pretty mean that day. 

Chaewon groans and you can picture her throwing herself onto her bed, exasperated. The rustling that comes through the receiver only frames the image, hanging it up. “Did you have to tell him to get a grip?” 

“You know..” You trail off, chewing on your bottom lip. “In hindsight, probably not.” 

A beat passes, she’s thinking. “Don’t worry,” she says. “I’ll help you.” 

“I.. have never been so worried in my life.” You sigh, picking at your freshly painted nails. “But I know you’ll do something no matter what I say, so do what you want, Wonie, but please be subtle about it.” 

Chaewon squeals down the phone. “I love youuuuu!” And it’s the last thing she says before kissing the mic a few times and hanging up. 

Slumping in your seat, you don’t have any time to stress about Chaewon’s plans because your lecturer walks in, with a travel cup in her hand and a paperback tucked under her arm. 

She apologises for being late, running a hand through her hair as she announces that you’ll be watching a film, an adaptation of a book you read at the start of term—Ian McEwan’s Atonement. You spend the first hour of the movie falling in and out of sleep until a text comes through from Sunghoon, and sheer excitement keeps you up.

hoonie: Wanna study together after class? 

you: of course!!!!!! 

hoonie: 🤍

The rest of the movie goes by in a drag, and you come away from it with a mild irritation towards Saoirse Ronan.

you: class just finished, heading to lib rn 

hoonie: Shit, still in the locker room, sorry !!! Omw, can you get a table? 

you: i’ll try..

It takes a while but you find an empty booth on the second floor, and set your bag on the plush green seat to take pictures of your surroundings to send to Sunghoon. You sit on the side facing the stairs so he can see you when he arrives. The thought of seeing him makes your heart race and you try out a few natural-seeming poses for when he’s here, cycling between resting your palm under your chin and sitting with your arms crossed a few times until the top of his head comes into view. 

Seeing him knocks the wind out of you as he approaches the staircase, taking them two at a time with his damp hair clinging to his forehead and neck. It doesn’t help that he’s wearing a tight black vest, and his sweats are hanging low on his hips. A breath you didn’t realise you were holding slips out when he lifts his head, spotting you immediately as a grin spreads over his lips and he raises his arm to wave, the veins in his forearm peeking out to say hi too. You can’t tell if it’s his lack of winter wardrobe or your newfound appreciation for him that’s making his biceps look so huge but it’s hard to look away, even when he reaches the table. 

“Are you hot?” you blurt out. 

Sunghoon laughs, raising a brow and something about the way he’s looking down at you makes your cheeks burn. “Depends who’s asking.” He takes his backpack off, leaving it on the table as he sits down, dumping his jacket and hoodie in a pile beside him.

“I’m asking,” you mumble. 

“Then, yeah, I’d hope so.” 

Is he flirting? It sounds like he’s flirting. Flirt back! “Nice arms.” 

He looks down at his biceps for a beat before looking at you warily. “Are you flirting with me?” He can’t fight the smile twitching at the corners of his lips but he tries his best, pressing them into a straight line.

“A little. They are nice though,” you admit.

Sunghoon grins. “Thanks, I’ve had them for a while now.”

You can’t come up with anything to say, too distracted by the way his smile reaches his eyes, lighting up his whole face and forcing a flustered heat to spread over your cheeks and neck. It’s only when you look away from him that you remember what you’re here for. It’s a study date, not a study date—there’s a difference. 

You hand Sunghoon the material you’d printed for him over the weekend, excerpts from texts you’d studied in class, so he can practise close reading and proper citation. As he makes his way through them, you can’t help stealing glances, smiling at the way his tongue sticks out a little while he focuses, or how he twirls his pen in his fingers while he’s thinking. You aren’t making the best use of your time together, copying out the slides from class yesterday, but you can’t help noticing the way he watches you when he thinks you can’t see. The small smile on his face while he does so only flusters you, an odd weakness settling in your knees as your cheeks heat up. 

After a while, Sunghoon sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Could you stop watching me?”

“If you noticed me watching, that means you’re watching me.” 

He shrugs, chewing on his lip. “Well, yeah. I’m always watching you,” he says like it’s a given. “But you don’t normally watch back, it’s distracting.” 

“You’re distracting.”

A playful smile curves his lips as he arches a brow, smugness painting his face. “Am I?” 

Too scared to verbalise your response, you nod slowly, hoping you don’t look as wound up as you feel. 

Sunghoon’s eyes flick over your face, flashing with something you don’t recognise. At least not from him. He sits back in his seat, assessing you and eventually shaking his head. 

“You know,” he says, eyes glowing with something you do recognise: cockiness. “If my sexy arms are getting to you that much, I can always put my hoodie back on. Wouldn’t want my little tutor getting distracted, would I?” 

Oh. 

Your stomach turns with want, mind reeling from his tone and the way his gaze lands on your lips. Sighing, you roll your eyes and try to seem unaffected. “Sunghoon, I never said your arms were sexy.” 

His phone starts to go off, buzzing against the table and he turns it over immediately, screen down on the surface as he shifts his focus back to his work. He chews on his lip while he does, eyes flicking back and forth between his phone and the words on the page. Curious, you lean over the table, elbows propped up as you rest your chin in your hands. He doesn’t spare you or his phone, which vibrates another four times, a glance.

“Are you going to get that?” 

Sunghoon shakes his head. “It’s nothing.” 

You hum, letting just enough curiosity seep into the sound that he’ll elaborate without being asked to. It doesn’t take long for him to deliver.

“It’s just Chaewon,” he says, running his hand through his hair and lifting his head. Sunghoon smiles. “We’ve been texting a lot these days.” 

“Cool.” You nod a few times, aiming for nonchalance but hitting bobblehead as you wait for him to continue. He doesn’t, only humming in response, nodding too. 

After a beat, he picks up his phone, angling it just high enough that you can’t see the screen. He reads the messages, an exhaled laugh coming from his nose as the tips of his ears redden—Fuck. This is worse than you thought. 

Chaewon’s commitment to girl code runs deep—she’s been rebuffing Jake since first year when she overheard a girl she’d never seen before telling her friends she thought he was cute. So you know without having to read the texts that nothing she’s saying is even remotely flirty, you can smell the auto-caps and use of the word ‘buddy’ from across the table. 

What you hadn’t counted on, however, was the potential for Sunghoon’s feelings to shift. If they really have been texting more, can you rule out the possibility that he might like.. her? Chaewon is a catch, beyond a catch, and you’d already turned Sunghoon down. Brutally. Of course, he’d move on, he has moved on. 

The rest of the study session is spent manifesting, writing Park Sunghoon over and over in the back of your notebook. You fill three pages while brainstorming ways to snatch a lock of his hair until he suggests that the two of you call it a day. He walks you home, telling you about how Jake’s been bribing him with food to get a ride to the LEGO store across town for the new Marvel set. 

“With or without the meals, I would’ve taken him, but his ramen is my favourite, so..” Sunghoon says, climbing the last step of your building and holding the door open for you. “He even brought a slice of tiramisu to the rink for me after practice.” 

“You’re terrible,” you say, frowning up at him as you search for your keys. “Do you want to come in?” 

Sunghoon chuckles, shaking his head. “I have a meeting with one of my lecturers soon, I’d have to leave in—” He pauses, rolling up the sleeve of his jacket to check the time. “—eight minutes.” 

“I’m cool with that if you are,” you mumble, suddenly shy. 

A bright smile spreads over his lips and he nods, following you in. 

Chilled by the harsh wind, the only thing on your mind is a hot drink as you lead Sunghoon to the kitchen. He shakes his head when you offer him one, sitting on the countertop and exhaling into his palms before rubbing them together. You can’t help but frown at the sight, feeling guilty that you can’t change the weather to suit him. At your thought process, your brows raise. Wow, you think. Is this who you are? 

You busy yourself with the selection of hot drinks you and Chaewon have accumulated, eyeing each container from top to bottom. A purple tub of Cadbury’s hot chocolate that you’re sure is on the brink of expiration, coffee—sachets of the instant stuff you’ve grown to like since leaving home, Earl grey from one of many brands, or the fancy silk tea bags Chaewon’s mum brought home from a trip—rooibos or plum-apple-cinnamon. 

Craving something sweet, you settle for hot chocolate, pulling the heavy container from the cupboard next to Sunghoon’s head and setting it beside your cup. He’s on his phone, scrolling too fast to take in anything he’s seeing and he shakes his head when you ask if he wants something to drink. 

On the dish rack, Chaewon’s mug catches your eye, so you pick it up to dry it off and put it down next to yours. “I’m going to check if Wonie wants any,” you say, wiping imaginary crumbs from the counter onto the floor. 

Sunghoon only clears his throat, shaking his head. “She’s not home, one of her acrylics popped off so she’s at the shop waiting for a cancellation.” 

The information itself isn’t jarring but hearing it from Sunghoon is. You put on what you hope is a neutral smile and nod, taking milk from the fridge and assembling your drink on autopilot while thinking of ways to redirect the conversation. 

“If you knew you’d have to go back to campus so soon, why’d you walk me home?” you ask, watching your cup spin in the microwave. “I could’ve walked on my own.” 

Sunghoon is already looking at you when you turn your head, his cheeks puffed out with air as he blinks slowly. Because I love you, is what you hope he’ll say. You think you need him to say it. 

“Because you don’t have to do anything on your own when you have me,” he says instead, and it’s infinitely better. 

The words seep through your every fibre, his intonation and lucid affection making a home for themselves in your heart, spreading warmth from head to toe. Your smile becomes a radiant grin, only brightening when he shakes his head, smiling down at his feet. 

Sunghoon hugs you in the kitchen when it’s time for him to leave, his arms holding you tight to his chest as he rocks you back and forth. You inhale his scent, all warm citrus under freshly washed cotton and something exclusive to him.

Wiping the smile from your face feels impossible. You don’t let go when he does, and a sweet laugh — a giggle, you think — tumbles out of him as he mumbles that he really has to go. Still, you cling onto him, taking clumsy steps backwards, with your arms locked around his waist, to your front door, smiling as you watch him put his shoes on. 

“You don’t have to walk me downstairs, honestly,” he says, looking down at you in the doorway.

“I want to.” 

His lips quirk up at the corners, a full smile breaking through and causing your stomach to flutter with so much force you’re sure it’s visible through your shirt. His eyes fall to your lips, lingering, before he clears his throat, looking away. 

“I’ll text you when I get to the door, promise.” 

You lock your pinky with his. “Send a selfie, just so I know it’s you and not someone else using your phone.” 

Sunghoon’s head falls back in a laugh. “Should I just call you? That way you can make sure I get back to uni in one piece.” 

You nod.

“That wasn’t anything with Chaewon earlier, I just needed advice on some girl stuff..” He trails off, searching your eyes. It’s obvious that he’s telling the truth, that he wants you to believe him. You do. “I wasn’t sure if that was something I could talk about with you.” 

Girl stuff. Hmm. You try not to read too much into it and look at the bigger picture instead—your best friend is going through something and doesn’t feel like he can come to you about it.. You squeeze his pinky reassuringly, a flutter in your stomach when he smiles. 

“You can talk to me about anything,” you say, meaning it. 

Sunghoon presses his lips together, humming and unlinking your fingers. “Next time,” he says after a beat, waving at you. 

You shut the door, locking it while watching through the peephole, he leaves as soon as the lock clicks shut. In the kitchen, your hot chocolate is cooling down, and your phone rings in your back pocket. Sunghoon’s calling. 

Hanging out with Sunghoon. Making sure he sticks to the time-blocked schedule you made for him. Quizzing him on biology terms until he gets restless. If the last two weeks were an episode of Family Feud, those would be the top three answers to the question: Name something YN is doing right now.

Thankfully tonight, it’s the first one. 

You’ve been sitting on the couch for so long, Jake has both left for football practice and arrived from football practice. Conversation ebbs and flows—an hour or so of nonstop talking, followed by another hour or so of comfortable near silence. 

It’s during a quiet hour that Sunghoon sits up straight, clearing his throat before saying, “Let me ask you something. He retreats to the other side of the couch, turning to face you with his whole body. “I don’t want things to be weird after I ask, so no matter what your answer is, I won’t bring it up or ask again.”

Arching a curious brow, you nod. “You can ask me anything,” you say, meaning it.

Sunghoon’s face is impressively blank—minus the motion of sharp teeth worrying plush lip, there’s absolutely nothing behind his eyes that seem to stare right through you. 

Eventually, he asks, “Can I kiss you?” He says more. Big, scary words like for closure and moving on, but they don’t register. They don’t matter. 

Your heart pounds at the base of your throat as you find interest in your hands that sit in your lap. Even without looking at him, you can’t get over the slight crease he had in his brow and the slight tremor in his hands. 

“For closure,” you repeat, though your voice doesn’t sound like it’s coming from you, muffled under the thump of your heart. 

Sunghoon nods. “For closure.” 

A humourless laugh sneaks past your throat as you look at him. You shouldn’t have. In the lamplight, Sunghoon is golden and glorious. Warm light casts one side of his face, diffusing gently over the steep slope of his nose, highlighting his moles and the look in his eyes, gentle and curious all at once. Unwillingly, your gaze falls to his lips, parted, tempting. 

One firm nod of your head brings Sunghoon’s hand to your face, his palm cupping your cheek with soft skin as his thumb traces your cheekbone. You grow anxious under his stare, under the drag of his eyes over your features, taking them one at a time like he’s committing them to memory.

Leaning in, your eyes flutter shut as your lips meet his and he freezes, mouth completely still on yours. Delicately, your tongue traces the seam of his lips, soft and plump, until they part for you, moving with yours. Sunghoon’s kiss is unpolished when it reaches you. It’s hesitant but tender, clumsy but sweet, he’s trying and he’s perfect; your favourite. 

The kiss is.. it’s everything. It’s the racing of your heart, the thudding, the vibrant buzz you can hear, feel humming against your ears. It’s a rush of blood to the head, a lightness all over that pulls you out of your body. It’s Sunghoon’s soft lips curving into a smile against yours, his gentle hold on your face never letting up as he holds you as close as he can manage, and it’s every bit as lovely as the rest of him.

Palpable is the heartbeat of your friendship, beating to a lull under the surface of the kiss, fizzling out into nothing, a steady silence, flatlining to give way to something more, something bigger. 

Every brush of your lips against his is a revelation, a confession. You’re all I’ve ever wanted, you tell him with your kiss. You’re everything I need. His free hand finds yours, locking your fingers and squeezing, the action timed well enough to make you think he hears you, to make you think he’s saying, we’ll be okay, I still love you. 

With that, he pulls away, a delicate tension piercing the air. Blown eyes and laboured breathing—he’s beautiful, fuzzy around the edges with warm orange and all of the love in your heart. Breathless, you chew on your lip, cognisant of Sunghoon’s hand in yours and the sparkle in his eyes as he looks at you. 

Belatedly, you squeeze his hand back, smiling. “Was it everything you ever dreamed of?” you whisper, part teasing, all curious.

Abruptly, Sunghoon stands up, letting go of you in the process. “I have to go.” 

You want to stop him, you think you’re supposed to. To grab him by the arm and kiss him again, to yell in his face that you love him until he understands. But you don’t. Instead, you stay seated, staring at Sunghoon’s back and following him with your eyes out of the room and down the hall until he’s out of sight. 

It’s your first time being so upset after a kiss, and you can’t tell if it’s his leaving or the mention of him moving on that’s tripping you up so much. That’s causing melancholy to crawl from the shadows, sinking its jagged nails into your skin to pull you under. 

You love him. He’s gone. 

Eyes stuck on the doorway, time stretches over the room around you, thick and malleable, wet and cloying—clay stuck under your nails for days as the fire in the kiln rages on. 

Sighing, you get up and wait at his door. You ball your hand into a limp fist, knocking weakly. Sunghoon doesn’t reply. You try again, harder. Still nothing. 

Barging into the room, you find him sitting on the end of his bed with his face in his hands. 

“Don’t move on.” The words come out before you realise and Sunghoon lifts his head, squinting at you. 

“Huh?” He tilts his head, watching closely as you approach him, tipping it back enough to meet your eyes when you stand over him. 

You take a breath, holding it until your head starts to spin. “I don’t want you to love someone else, Sunghoon. Please don’t move on.” 

The stillness that follows is disconcerting, a long quiet you can feel on your skin, amplifying the blank stare on his face as he looks up at you. His eyes flash, a spark of hope behind them so bright it stings to look at.

“Do you..” He trails off, his lips moving to form the next word though stopping short.

“I do,” you whisper, nodding. “I’m sorry for taking so long.”

An exhaled laugh comes from his nose as he grins, shaking his head. “You like me?” he asks, excitement and disbelief fighting for authority over his voice, his hands holding your waist and pulling you down into his lap.

“I love you,” you admit, settling on his thighs. 

“You do?” His eyes are wide and gleaming, searching every feature on your face before settling on your own.

You nod. “So much.” 

Sunghoon’s chin tips up, his lips pressing against yours, excited pecks that can’t turn into much more for the smiles on your faces. You rest your arms on his shoulders, hands clasping behind his head, nervous fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“So.. will you be my boyfriend? For real?” 

Tilting his head, he tries and fails to fight a smile. “I will. I’m a little bummed though.” 

“Why?” You raise a brow, and the word tips up at the end with it. 

“I wanted to be the one to ask you.” Sunghoon’s honesty warms the room, endearing you completely. 

You grin, loving the heat spreading over your cheeks. “Ask me anyway.” 

“Please can I be your boyfriend?” 

In the weeks that followed, it became immediately clear that boyfriend Sunghoon operated on a pendulum swinging between sexual ferality and terror. He’d get distracted during study sessions at home, finding more interest in biting at your neck than stream-of-consciousness prose, but closed his eyes if a sex scene came on TV. He’d buck his hips against yours while making out but flinch at the sight of condoms in the store.

He wasn’t ready to have sex and didn’t know how to tell you, so you took matters into your own hands, asking if you could wait until after his results for resubmission came in, saying you didn’t want the distraction for either of you. Sunghoon agreed, pecking your cheek and holding you tight to his chest. 

The only thing was that your lecturer hadn’t given him an exact date, so every morning, you held your phone in a vice grip waiting for Sunghoon to update you, and every morning, you got the same text: Nothing today, baby ☹️ 

This morning, you’re brushing your teeth when he texts you, in all caps: NO FUCKING WAY I GOT A 98 !!! LOOK !!!

When the picture comes through, it’s of him in the mirror and you choke on mouthwash at the sight. He’s smiling, bright and beautiful, in a black vest that he’s holding up a little to show his stomach, though his palm is in the way of his toned abs, and it cuts off right at the top of his grey sweatpants. 

Your mouth goes dry as you click on it, fixating on every little detail you can find: the thickness of his fingers against his phone, the dip in his collarbones, the breadth of his shoulders and the cinch of his waist. In a fit of desperation, you try swiping at the bottom of your screen, willing the picture to magically extend. It doesn’t. 

hoonie: Finger slipped.. You like?

you: mm.. 

you: 98??? HOLY SHIT, LOOK AT YOU!!!

hoonie: All you.. do you like the picture?

you: i love it………….

hoonie: My girl 🤍

Another picture comes in, and sure enough, through the glare of his laptop screen, you see: Course name: The Modernist Movement: Joyce, Woolf, and Hemingway. Marks Awarded: 98.0.

you: well done baby !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

hoonie: Thx 😁

hoonie: Can I have my prize now ha ha .. haha 😈

you: just for that emoji, no you absolutely cannot.

Your resolve isn’t strong enough when it comes to Sunghoon, because purple devil emoji and all, you show up at his door with condoms in your bag and a bouquet of lilies behind your back. 

The door creaks open and Sunghoon greets you with a grin. “Hey, gorgeous. You proud of me?” 

You beam at him, holding out the flowers. “I’m very proud, Hoon, well done.” 

“I don’t want to ruin the moment,” he starts, taking the bouquet from your hands and sniffing the flowers with an approving smile. “But hearing you say you’re proud of me is awakening something I didn’t know existed.”

“A good something?” 

“Mm,” he hums, arms finding your waist before he pecks your lips. “A very good something.” 

Sunghoon’s words hit your lips and your core, a desperate heat flooding your stomach as he kisses you deeply, his body pressed tightly against yours while he pulls you into his apartment. He kicks the door shut with his foot, slipping his hand under your jacket to settle in your back pocket, not quite squeezing but holding your ass as gently as he can manage. 

He breaks away from you, love in his eyes as he stares down into yours, catching his breath. “I don’t think we own a vase.” 

In his kitchen, you rifle through cupboards to find something to hold the flowers, eventually finding a whiskey decanter in the cupboard under the sink, and holding it up for Sunghoon to see.

“Oh, yeah,” he says. “It’s Jay’s. It’ll work right?” 

You nod, taking it to the sink to rinse it. Sunghoon wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder watching you fill the decanter with water and flower food before grabbing the bouquet. He presses open-mouthed kisses to your neck and you struggle to stay focused as you cut down the stems on the flowers, arranging them neatly. 

“Can I take a photo?” he asks when you’re done. 

He’s smiling when you turn around to look at him, a soft curve of his lips that makes your heart race, a deep tenderness in his eyes when you meet them. You smile too. 

“They’re yours, baby, do whatever you want.” 

“A photo of you with the flowers,” he clarifies. 

Warmth settles in your chest, a grin spreading over your lips from ear to ear. You nod, taking the decanter in your hands when he lets go of you, holding the flowers up beside your face and smiling for his camera. As his phone shutter clicks away, you steal glances at his face behind it. He’s watching the screen with a smile, telling you how beautiful you are.

“I want pictures of you too,” you say, handing the flowers over. 

“I’m yours, baby, do whatever you want.” 

Sunghoon poses for your photos, smiling sweetly in some and sniffing the bouquet appreciatively with closed eyes for others. He’s glowing and he’s beautiful and your heart triples in size while taking picture after picture until your phone tells you it has ten percent. 

“Thank you, YN,” he says. “I’ve never gotten flowers before, I love them.” His arms settle around your waist, lips pressing against yours before you have the chance to respond. 

You try anyway, mumbling against his lips that you love him. In response, Sunghoon grins, but the feeling of his cock growing hard against you is distracting, a lust-coated thorn in the side of the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. With locked lips and uncertain steps, the two of you bump into corners and trip over your own feet, stumbling to his room and parting only to tear his hoodie over his head.

Breathless, you pull away, eyes trailing over him and picking up on everything, from the tremble in his hands to the lust-addled worry in his eyes. He’s nervous, you think—though it escapes you, the last word coming out like a question.

Sunghoon scoffs, his hands resting on your waist under your shirt, skin clammy against yours. “Of course, I’m nervous.” 

“You don’t have to be.”

“I just want to be good for you.” 

“Don’t worry about that, let me take care of you, Hoon.” Your palms drag up his torso — firm abs through soft cotton, defined chest over racing heart — to rest on his shoulders. “Sit,” you say when he nods. 

He gulps, taking a seat on the end of his bed under your gentle push, eyes widening when you sink to your knees between his legs and reach for his drawstring, pulling the ends to untie the knot. 

“Wait,” Sunghoon says, breathless, scrunching up his face and dropping his head. “Let me calm down, baby. At this rate, I’ll come just seeing your hand on it.” 

You giggle, resting your head on his thigh and wrapping the drawstring around your finger.

“I’m serious, YN,” he mumbles, laughing as he takes his vest off. “I need a minute.” 

Sunghoon’s eyes are pressed shut as he tries to collect himself, lips pouty and kiss-bitten, slightly parted with ragged breaths slipping out. You wait patiently for him. He’s so pretty like this, with the crease in his brow and the pretty pink flush dusting his cheeks as his chest rises and falls. You can’t help but smile, leaning into his touch when his hand rests on top of your head, his blunt nails grazing your scalp. After a while, he seems more at ease, his eyes finding yours and he smiles shyly, telling you he’s ready now and lifting his hips from the bed to let you pull his sweats and underwear down. 

Free from the constraints of fabric, his cock slaps his stomach with a wet sound as the tip meets his skin, leaving a pearlescent streak over his abs. The sight makes your mouth water and you can’t look away. “Pretty,” you whisper.

Wrapping a hand under his tip, you swipe it with your thumb, taking time to memorise the flutter of his eyelids, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple, and the soft sigh he lets out. You stroke him slowly, liking the way his breath picks up as his brows knit together before you take him in your mouth. It’s a tight fit but you do your best, spurred on by the way he tugs at your hair and stutters through a holy fuck as you take as much of him as you can. 

Sunghoon goes silent, only squirming when you use your hand to stroke him near his base. Self-conscious about his lack of vocal affirmation, you look up at him through your lashes, and the pure bliss on his face is unbearably attractive. His eyes are rolled back under furrowed brows, his mouth hanging open as he throws his head back.

“Am I doing okay?” you ask, using the moment to catch your breath.

He nods, inhaling shakily and screwing his eyes shut while his hips buck up into your fist. “I’m.. You’re doing such a good job, baby, so good.”

Satisfaction courses through you from the praise, a high that dulls the ache in your jaw. Still watching him, you massage his balls in your palm, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his tip when he whines. You tongue at his slit until he thrusts back into your mouth, tip hitting your throat, and he gasps when you gag, his arm coming up to cover his eyes. A belated apology slips from his lips, mumbled as he strokes your hair with a shaking hand and goes quiet again. When you speed up, his breath stutters, the muscles in his thighs contracting around your head as you suck and lick and drool on his cock. 

A moan of your name, and his hand holding your hand down, are the only warnings you get before Sunghoon comes, spilling his load right down your throat. Whining, his hips buck up against your face, pushing further and further until he falls back onto the mattress.

Your throat is hoarse and aches while you use the back of your hand to wipe at your lips, enjoying what’s left of his taste on your tongue. Deep red tints his neck and chest, a pretty flush gleaming under the sheen of sweat on his skin. He’s mesmerising, as he tries for air through swollen lips and looks up at you through squinted eyes. He reaches for you, cute grabby hands tugging your shirt and pulling you down so you’re lying next to him with your head on his chest. 

“You’re amazing, baby, so good for me,” Sunghoon whispers, eyes fluttering shut as you drag your nails over his torso, feeling the subtle heave of the slick, sculpted muscle over his stomach and chest. 

Pride heats your chest, satisfaction rolling over you like a wave. “Really?”

He hums in affirmation, nodding his head. 

“You were so quiet, I couldn’t really tell,” you add, hungry for more praise. 

“The walls are so thin in here, I just got used to being quiet,” Sunghoon says, frowning. Hand meeting your chin, he tips your head up towards him, pressing a soft kiss to your lips and mumbling, “I’m sorry. You were perfect, I swear.” 

It’s a sweet kiss. Until lips move harder and hands get lower, desperate as he thumbs the top of your leggings, palm unmoving but a dangerous heat blooms in your stomach anyway.

“Can I..” Sunghoon pinches you softly through the material, unsure eyes boring deep into yours. 

You nod. “You can.” 

Slipping under your waistband, his fingers skate across your skin dipping between your thighs. He grazes your slit, satisfaction clear in the groan he lets out as he feels the wetness there, pulling it over the length of your slit to cover your clit. Your breath hitches, a strangled gasp, pleasure and surprise meeting in your throat under the pressure of his thumb on your clit, the gentle sting of his finger pushing into you. 

What Sunghoon lacks in experience, he makes up for with the sheer length and thickness of his fingers. It’s almost jarring, it’s enough to force your eyes closed and bring a sigh rumbling out of you, ache and relief settling between your legs, where he curls a finger against your walls and drags slow circles over your clit. 

“Can you take these off, baby?” he asks, hand away to touch your leggings. 

You don’t waste a second, sitting up to pull them off, throwing them and your underwear across the room. Sunghoon licks his lips, tugging at the hem of your shirt. 

“And this? If you want..” 

You nod, pulling it off immediately to let it join the rest of your clothes in a heap on the floor. The way he gulps is a confidence boost, his dilated pupils taking in every inch of your body, though his gaze always pulls back to your bra—white and lacy, thin enough for your nipples to push through the fabric and Sunghoon can’t seem to get enough, though he waits until you’re lying down again to touch you. 

Sunghoon props himself up on his elbow, leaning over you. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, dragging a finger over the lace at the top of your bra, toying with the material and the little bow sitting between your breasts. His eyes flick up to meet yours. “So beautiful,” he repeats. 

Hiding your face in his chest, you mumble, “Thank you,” into his skin while trying to ignore the heat spreading over your body wherever he touches you. His hand trails from your arm to your waist, resting on your hips to slip over your ass for a beat, where he grabs and squeezes the flesh there before coming back around to slot between your legs—you lift one of them, resting it over his body, and he’s smiling sweetly when you look up at him.

Sunghoon’s movements are unchanging, though the sensation is heightened by the unbridled desire in his lidded eyes that urges white heat to lick over every inch of your skin—this time he pushes two fingers into you.

It doesn’t get better than this, you think. But it does, quickly. 

Leaning over you, his eyes flick across your face, one feature at a time as he chews on his lip. Reaching up, you push some of his hair from his face, holding it back and saying, “Relax, baby.” 

“Don’t want to hurt you.”

Moving your hand, you blink when his hair flops back over his forehead, tickling your eyelashes. His eyes are focused now, staring straight down into yours, want and worry flashing behind them. 

“You won’t, I promise,” you say, locking your pinky with his, feeling relieved when he smiles.

Sunghoon pushes in slowly, his name slipping from your lips when he exhales shakily, head falling forward. The sting, the pleasure, make it hard to breathe, molten desire taking hold of your lungs as he carves out a place for himself as far as you’ll take him, all the way to the hilt as slow as he can manage. 

A moan tears out of him, lewd and whiny as his hair tickles your collarbone, head falling into the crook of your neck. His skin is hot and damp against yours, his breath burning your shoulder as he tries to calm down. It’s difficult to register much else, tethered only by the sound of his voice when he asks, “Am I hurting you?” 

“Hoon,” you whisper. 

“Can you look at me, baby?” He lifts his head, resting a hand on your cheek. You blink your eyes open, gaze locking with his, where concern pushes through his desire. “Am I hurting you?” he asks again. “Are you okay?” 

You nod. “I’m okay, just..” You sigh. “Full. Need a minute.” 

Sunghoon kisses you, lips moving gently with yours, passing breathy whines between your mouths until you feel yourself relaxing. Pulling his plush bottom lip between yours, you suck on it, nodding. “Want you to move, baby,” you mumble. 

He scans your face, eyes meeting yours as he pulls his hips back. He’s slow, so slow with his thrusts that your belly turns with want, your fingernails sink into the taut skin of his back, and jagged sobs fall out of you with each drag of his cock along your walls. 

Everywhere his skin touches yours is set ablaze with scorching heat, goosebumps pushing past the surface as his breath fans your neck and his sharp teeth graze your skin. He bites hard enough to sting, and you wince as his tongue flicks over your bitten flesh to soothe you.

You were so worked up earlier, writhing against the sheets and coming undone in his palm, so bliss quickly pushes through the ache between your legs. “Good, Hoon, feels so good,” you manage, struggling to convey how perfect it is.

“Just want to make you feel good.” His words melt into each other, vowels soft and elongated as they curl around each other. He’s working up a steady rhythm, his tip consistently nudging you where you need it—the spot that makes the room blur around you. “That’s all I want.” 

Before long, the knot in your stomach pulls you up from the mattress, arching your back towards the ceiling. Mouth to mouth, chest to chest—it’s the closest you’ve ever felt to someone else, the closest you’ve ever been. The thought alone knocks the wind out of you, and his persistent whining does nothing to help.

Your want and adoration for Sunghoon run bone-deep, inching up your spine and creeping over your shoulders, intertwined with an all-consuming pleasure that turns the heat in your stomach molten as a shudder zips through you. Even though you can’t find the words to let him know, he lifts your hips from the bed to fuck you deeper, harder, into the mattress until shaky orgasms pull both of you under. 

You let him fall into you, fingers curling around his hair, whispering I love you into the skin of his neck as he comes, most of his weight on top of you while you catch your breath, relishing in the fullness you feel as the last waves of your high pull back. You stay like this for as long as he needs, his head coming up from the crook of your neck to smile at you before pressing his lips to yours. A sleepy haze fills the room around you, tongue swiping tongue as you giggle happily into his mouth. 

After a while, he gets up, tying the condom to throw it away and comes back with his shirt. He uses it to clean up—gentle between your legs, pressing kisses to your calves while he does. Sunghoon’s tenderness wraps around your heart, and love clouds your vision, forming a blurry trail that follows all of his movements, glowing like something from a dream, ethereal, an apparition. 

The bed dips beside you, his arms around you, pulling you in so his chin rests on your head. You push your cheek into his chest, hoping the two of you will meld into one—the thought makes you warm all over, a fuzziness that reaches every part of your body while he presses kisses into your hair, rubbing your back. 

“I love you,” he says, voice as soft as the rest of him. “I’m glad I exist.”

mama park: Hi lovely 😍 missing you lots, wondering when you’ll be home for Xmas………..love ma

Sunghoon stirs, nose scrunching as he snores softly into the quiet of a winter morning. His chest rises and falls steadily under your head and he doesn’t move when you sit up. The lamp on his desk is still on — neither of you could be bothered getting up to turn it off last night — and under its dim glow, you admire him. Perfect lips gently curved—long lashes kissing the skin under his eyes. 

Love hits you from all angles, warmth all over from head to toe despite the chill in Sunghoon’s room. You can’t help but grin, leaning up to nose along the underside of his chin, his natural scent so soft yet dizzying as you nuzzle into him. He stirs again, turning his head this way and that before resting, you feel a bit bad, deciding to leave him be and text his mum back. 

you: hi mum !!! missing you sooooooo much :((( will be home asap

mama park: BTW Sunghoon told me everything. I raised such good actors LOL make sure he looks after you and keeps you happy!

you: i’m so sorry we lied to you..

you: but i’m really happy with him and he loves me a lot

you: i love him so much .. never been so sure of anyone in my life

© zreamy (2023), all rights reserved. do not repost, translate, or plagiarise my work. do let my know your thoughts !

permanent taglist: @asahicore

[linoveins]

kitty keychains and pudding paybacks

best friend!minho can't help but recall memories of him and fem!reader in the middle of their grocery trip

this is part 2 of silky shorts and stained shirts

genre: fluff, smut, angst (a little), college au

warnings: MDNI! condescending dom!minho, sub!reader, reader is physically sensitive, reader is inexperienced, minho and reader are not straight, pet names, grinding, nipple play, marking, praise, dirty talk, p in v, minho has a huge dick, a bit of pain from sex (just a little), oral f receiving, fingering, minho is really possessive, minho is an idiot when it comes to feelings

w.c.: 11.9k

a/n: i swore part 2 would be sweet, smutty, and simple but my fingers slipped and now we're at 11.9k words T_T hope it isn't too much! i rlly enjoyed writing this i hope u enjoy reading it as well.

you flinch at the sudden flash of light as you stuff sushi in your mouth.

the perpetrator is across you, smiling stupidly while holding his stupid phone in his stupid hand. you notice the people who were just peacefully eating in the dim restaurant look at you both with a disapproving stare which makes you mumble out a quiet apology.

minho doesn’t seem to care, that idiot. you kick him below the table and he just giggles.

“delete that!” you whisper at him aggressively. you both know it’s useless. his phone is a growing waste of every single embarrassing picture and video clip ever taken of his friends. and as someone who’s with him like 90% of the time, you’re unfortunately 90% of his pesky camera roll.

“shh, go eat your food”, he hums, still grinning. 

“i was eating until i was so rudely interrupted.”

“in my defense, i didn't know the flash was on”, he retorts confidently as if that makes it better. “and most importantly, i’m storing memories. be grateful you have such a wonderful friend to do that for you. you suck at taking photos”, he argues.

he’s right. you don’t even have a quarter of the amount of photos he has. you keep reminding yourself to take more pictures for the memories since your memory itself sucks, but you always either forget or you’re too slow to capture the moment. minho says the growing amount of keychains on your phone case were the reason you’re so slow. as if he didn’t add onto your collection with a personalized keytag of jureumi. 

you watch minho watch you thinking about his words. annoying. you just poke your tongue out at him and he shakes his head at the childish display.

after a while, minho finishes his plate and you notice him eyeing yours. you already know what’s running through that pretty head of his. 

by your luck or maybe his excitement from planning his attack, he accidentally drops his chopsticks. 

as he’s reaching out for it under the table with a silent fuck, you insert a pretty good chunk of wasabi into the sushi and flip the piece so he won't notice. 

you eat the second to the last sushi. you know he’s looking at the very last one on your plate like the greedy man he is. you drink your water to hide your grin. 

like clockwork, he grabs the last sushi and shoots it in his mouth in record time, a smug look on his face just a split second before realizing his mistake.

gotcha, idiot. 

you swallow your water so fast so you won’t choke from laughter at seeing how red his neck and ears are getting.

he rushes for the water and starts cursing at you. it’s your turn to take an embarrassing photo of him. you’re quick this time. 

“you are evil!” he shouts, eyes a bit teary and lips red.

“if it isn’t the consequences of your own actions.”

minho continues downing liquid and you can’t help but stare. if it really isn’t the consequences of one’s actions.

his neck is all red and his lips are burning with the perfect shade of red adorning them. he’s swallowing the water and you follow the liquid that disappears past his lips and down his throat. he has such a pretty throat. you don’t understand how a person's adam’s apple can look so defined and delicious? you snap out of your staring and tell him you should head out soon for the groceries.

he nods, still glaring at you. you can tell from his faint smile he’s trying to contain that he’s not really mad.

the train to the supermarket is a bit packed. it’s the rush hour so you and minho are sitting together, both your thighs squished next to each other.

you notice minho’s ears are still red. no way he’s still affected by the wasabi? his eyes are closed and his jaw is clenched. you laugh.

“your ears are still red? that wasabi really did one on you!” 

minho rolls his eyes. it’s not the wasabi. not that you should know when you’re laughing like that anyway.

you sneakily bring out your phone but he hears the little clanging of the metals and he catches you sending the photo of him in the restaurant to han jisung of all people.

he snatches your phone from your hold to try and stop you, but it was already sent so you don’t make the extra effort to get it back. you grin in success and close your eyes while waiting for your stop.

you remember the first time you saw him. it was on this train on the way to university. you decided to leave early after having one of those moments of wanting to turn your life around at 3 am. 

you got aboard the 6 am train and there he was, some cute guy with glasses on and a hoodie. he had earphones on and his eyes were closed as he silently tapped his foot to whatever music he was playing. you couldn’t look away. not that you wanted to.

he had an intimidating aura to him which contrasted his cute face. you were a sucker for that so you decided to wake up early the next day too. maybe you’ll see him again.

and yet again, there he was. 

you woke up earlier again the next day. and the next. and then the next, until you formed a new habit of waking up early for the 6 am train even though your classes start at noon. 

you told yourself it was a good habit to form. you felt gratitude for the pretty boy on the train. you never approached him though. you didn't feel the need to. he never looked your way and you didn’t mind. it helped you develop a routine of waking up early and you were glad just for that. 

the speakers announce your stop and minho taps you gently upon noticing your eyes were closed. both of you got out of the train and walked towards the supermarket.

grocery shopping with you was one of minho’s favorite occurrences.

he didn’t think much of it, he just knew it was so much more fun when he’s with you. he always chalked it up to you simply being fun to hang out with and that you’re always able to match his sillier side. almost a little too well. maybe..

“ya! don’t buy too much of that!” he notices you stuffing your cart with 5 packages of the carbonara buldak which interrupted his wandering thoughts.

“it’s my money? it’s the perfect meal for exams!”

minho recalls your late night snacking during last term’s finals and he sighs at the memory. 

you were literally consuming that stuff three times a day. sometimes more. he had to hide the rest of it and force you to let him cook you a proper meal.

of course he almost folded when you looked at him with teary eyes, begging him to free the packs, and that you were tired and stressed and you’re really craving it. you were so tempting begging him like that. nevermind that it’s for some stupid noodles. he eventually made sure you ate his cooking anyway.

he takes 3 of the packages from your cart and puts them back on the shelf. he sighs through his nose while you glare at him.

“we’re supposed to die a natural death, y/n. i don’t want you getting a heart disease any time before 90!” he scolds you.

90 is a bit too much, you think. you just poke your tongue out at him again but you move on with only the 2 packs. 

you are so annoying. he can't help but smile while watching you struggle pushing the cart. 

you look back at minho from his sudden quietness. minho just nods at you to continue walking. his heart warms. you always glance back to see if he’s still behind you. always. whether you’re on a narrow sidewalk or whether you’re ordering in line in front of him, or when you’re both in bed and you can’t sleep due to stress, or that one time you were cheating off of him during an exam. he smiles at the thought. for all kinds of reasons, you always glance back, and for all kinds of reasons he vows to himself to keep being there. 

both of you walk to the candy section. none of you really like candy that much but hyunjin kept begging minho to get a brand of gummies that can only be found at that supermarket. minho saw you looking at the cherry lollipops. you’ve had that before. he knows because it’s what you had in your mouth during a small get-together for his birthday where he introduced you for the first time to his friends.

some of the boys have already met you. you got comfortable real quick with the rest of them and he remembers being so happy that they’re getting along greatly with you. 

seungmin teased him about you that night and he just threatened to put him in the oven before muttering something about how she's just a friend. seungmin just leaves him alone with a sarcastic “sure”. 

he recalls changbin being late that night because of a project. everyone was already on their 4th or 5th game of the night. hyunjin bought a bunch of candy and the lollipop was one of the prizes. minho remembers scolding him for being so childish but he didn’t really stop him since he knows how childish all his friends are anyway. 

you were definitely childish too with two cherry lollipops poking through each of your cheeks. why the hell do you have two? you don’t even like cherries.

apart from definitely childish, you were also definitely drunk from the drinking games you were playing with the rest of the guys. you were getting too close to felix for his own liking and he was unknowingly glaring holes at the younger boy’s freckles, hoping they’ll burst or something. 

he knows you’re a clingy drunk and he wanted to intervene, but he realized seungmin was looking at him looking at you and he’d rather not ignite whatever dumb things the mutt is thinking. he remembers cursing felix inwardly, repeating get your own friend, get your own friend in his head.

when changbin arrived, he introduced you once more. you sat up immediately to bow at the blonde man politely.

and with you being drunk as hell, you blinked at his friend a few times before your jaw dropped, both the cherry lollipops that were just in your mouth falling on top of minho’s head. hyunjin doubled back in laughter and jeongin had to hold the back of the hyunjin’s head to keep it from smashing against the furniture. minho picked up the cherry lollipops in disgust and saw you look at changbin all dazed and pathetic with a “you’re really handsome” slipping past your cherry-stained tongue. changbin laughed shyly and the guys just lost their shit even more at the whole thing.

minho knew you were way out of it at that point and decided to get you to bed while the rest of them continued with the night. 

he dragged you to the bathroom, brushing your teeth for you since you were too drunk to do it yourself.

he got you to his bed, lifting you up and rolling you in his duvet like a cat being put on sock timeout.

“don’t argue. you’re gonna have a terrible headache in the morning. sleep. now.” he said a bit grumpily while making sure you’re still comfortable even after restraining you with his sheets. you whined at him, still not wanting the fun to end.

“but i was winning! you- ch- chan was about to take another shot!” you were putting up a fight although he could see how weak and tired you already were. minho just clicked his tongue at you. 

“and you’ve had too much. you’re sleeping now. i’m not hearing it.”

minho closed his bedroom door shut after turning the lights out and he was right about putting you to bed since you passed out almost immediately.

after a few hours of messing around, minho got tired and left some of the guys in his living room who still had way too much energy. 

jeongin was already asleep on the couch, chan was in the bathroom puking his head out on the toilet (the photos haunted him the next day), and the rest of his friends were so loud screaming “draw 2!” “draw 4!” “draw 8!” that he got a complaint the next morning. 

changbin followed him that night to ask about you.

“so that’s y/n”, changbin said in an amused tone while handing the birthday boy his gift.

“mhm”, minho took the gift and smiled at him. “glad you could come. thanks for this.”

“is… she dating anyone?” the younger one asked and minho’s heart sank so low on his stomach that he thought he was gonna have to pull chan from the toilet so he could have a go next.

changbin looked at him expectantly and minho just blinked before deciding to pull something from his ass.

“she’s not. but she doesn’t really want to date anyone right now. says they’re a distraction. so you probably shouldn’t”

he wasn’t completely lying. you told him you didn’t wanna date around, that you weren’t actively seeking for it. but if anyone nice came, preferably someone you can trust and not a total stranger, then why not? 

minho gulped and changbin looked at him weirdly but ultimately just nodded his head in understanding.

“ah… i see. it’s too bad. but i respect that. i’m gonna hang with those idiots for a while. you heading to bed now?” minho nodded. he walked to his room with a heavy feeling on his chest that he blamed on the food.

he forgot all about it when he saw you. he chuckled at your position: head falling off the edge of the bed, arms in a marty mcfly sleeping position, legs somehow on top of his headboard? he took his phone out to immortalize the sight. how the hell did you even get out of the roll?

he sighed and gently laid your head back on the bed. he maneuvered your body until he had enough space to sleep next to you. he knew there was a high chance that you would be kicking some part of him later on but he never minded. 

minho plopped his heavy leg over you and took you in an embrace to keep you still.

he started feeling a bit guilty for making shit up to changbin. but he figured you won’t mind. not that he would ever tell you. 

he never thought about any of his friends seeing you in a romantic light. nor did he think about it himself. all he knew was he’s really possessive over his friends and that should extend to you. 

but he also knew changbin was a good guy and you’d definitely click well with him. that didn’t mean it would sit right in his stomach if you did click too well. 

get your own friend, he kept thinking. you’re his friend. he doesn’t want you spending less time with him. it would be unfair since he found you first. he should be enough. he huffed one last time before hugging you even tighter that night than he ever had.

“yo! you said you’d buy me two extra cups of pudding. let’s check the aisle.” minho snaps back to reality and follows you. 

the pudding.

normally, he wouldn’t even consider replacing it with one yet he offered you two.

his guilt from… earlier events made him think you deserve just as much and then some. he knows you know that it's unlike him to even pay you back for his greedy schemes so you're taking advantage of the newfound generosity that you didn't know was actually guilt.

somehow they’re all out of the regular pudding. what’s there is rows and rows of the nasty strawberry pudding both of you tried once. he remembers how your face scrunched from disgust.

the cute little designs on the pudding cup made minho wanna try it with you. you ate at the same time and both of you immediately spat it out.

“this is absolute shit from a butt! the goddamn devil’s butt, blergh!” you drank minho’s sparkling water to wash out the definitely-not-strawberry strawberry flavor. 

“yeah, you’d know” he laughs hard and calls you weird.

“it’s an expression, you piece of shit. a piece of shit from the devil’s butt too, mind you. and you’re weirder than me, don’t give me that.”

“i’ll stuff this pudding in your mouth,” he threatens and you fake gag at him. none of you tried any strawberry-flavored pudding again.

“looks like you really just don’t deserve pudding today” he chuckles at the sight in front of him. 

“maybe if you left my pudding alone”, you mutter and he just basks in successfully annoying you.

you both continue on your separate shopping carts while still walking around together. minho is about to go crazy. why the hell does he keep being reminded of you in this stupid store? for every little thing too. like, seriously?

the meat section reminded him of you absolutely fucking up the steak you tried cooking for him when he won with his team on a dancing competition. you still ate it all, trying your best to chew the overcooked meat, not wanting to waste it. 

the fruits and vegetables section reminded him of the time both of you were fixated on mango smoothies for months.

the onions reminded him of that one time he taught you how to cook kimchi sundubu-jjigae, and when you offered chopping the onions, you were silently sniffling to hide your crying. he laughed like a madman when he noticed. that picture was marked favorite in his phone.

the damn spring roll wrappers reminded him of your thin shorts just this afternoon. spring roll wrappers, for fuck’s sake.

the frozen foods aisle reminded him of the time he scolded you for not bringing out the tonkatsu he told you to bring out so you both could have dinner. you ended up sleeping all day in his bathtub and they were still frozen by the time he got home. you felt so bad that you paid for both of your food that night, which then made him feel bad so he went with you to the convenience store to try out the interesting strawberry pudding with the cute packaging. 

the dairy section took him back to that one afternoon where you were both here doing your groceries, and an old couple asked him to reach for the milk brand at the bottom shelf, saying something about bad joints. he remembers the goosebumps that ran through his body when the old lady whispered to him that both of you will have beautiful kids like them someday. she proceeded to show him said kids on her wallet, pictures faded from how long ago those were probably taken. he just smiled politely at her. he was certain if you two had kids, yours would be cuter than theirs. not that he kept thinking about it from time to time afterwards.

he exhales in relief when you two get out of the supermarket, light bags of food in hand. you look at him and he looks at you and there’s a pause before he starts talking.

“let’s pass by the convenience store. maybe they have your pudding there.” 

you know the convenience store is a bit farther from the station since it’s the other way. you’re not even craving pudding anymore.

“let’s go”, you say as you both walk towards the other direction, groceries in hand. 

you always linger when you’re with him. a few hours more to see him laugh with and at his friends on his birthday even though you already feel your eyes getting heavy. a few seats more distanced from the train door to see him a bit longer, not wanting to leave before him. a few blocks more in the opposite direction just to be in his presence a little more. the weight of the grocery bags are nothing. not when minho’s next to you.

once you arrive, both of you plop the bags on the tiny table while he checks on the pudding aisle. you notice how peaceful it is like this with your tiny routines you formed with him over a few years. your heart beats faster, realizing the domesticity of it all. 

you pinch your thigh to stop daydreaming about your friend. you tell yourself to just pay attention to your surroundings. 

the cashier is giggling at someone on the phone, there’s a cat meowing for something outside, the convenience store is rather empty, and you can hear minho clicking his tongue from across the store.

“nothing?” you ask and he nods.

“you know, there should be compounded interest in these things. i say one more extra pudding with every day that passes where you still haven't paid me back”, you offer a very bad deal for him. you continue pushing your luck. “besides, that was the last pudding. i was looking forward to eating it after a hard day at uni…”

minho raises his eyebrow at you.

“you’re a spoiled brat, you know that?” he chuckles.

“and you’re a thief! i’m just saying��” you add, still trying to convince him.

minho just shakes his head and gets some sparkling water for himself. you follow him to the counter and the cashier brings his phone down to scan his item.

“is that all?” he chews his gum with a smile while taking minho's money. minho nods. 

you’re looking at the other products near the counter. you notice the magnetic cat keyrings on the side and eye them closely. it’s a little too expensive. maybe you can convince minho to get this instead of the pudding.

“you need condoms too?” the cashier blurts out too casually and you can't help but get flustered at the implication.

“w-we don’t. we’re not- he-”

“i’ll take a pack. thank you”, minho says also too casually and you avoid looking at him while you head back to the table with both your groceries. 

it’s none of your business, really. you knew minho liked to fuck. well, most people your age do, it’s no big deal. there are multiple times when you wanna come over to his place but he’ll text you a little “busy” so you knew not to come. 

there was actually a time when you just strutted in his place without informing him, much like he is with you. it ended when you realized that of course he had a whole life that didn’t include you.

you were in his new apartment, relaxing in his bathroom since he could now afford an apartment with a bathtub. you were taking a warm bath, almost dozing off when you heard the door open and slam shut which was immediately followed by wet kisses and people bumping into furniture. 

you heard them giggling as they went inside minho’s room. you swore you felt your heart melting into the warm water and down the drain that you started to open after figuring out what was going on. and yet you can feel the familiar warmth in your belly because of the same, familiar person.

stupid lee minho with his stupidly soft voice. 

you moved as quietly as possible to get out of the tub but you’re sure they wouldn’t hear you anyway from all the moaning that’s going on. minho sounded a bit mean to the guy but that embarrassingly turned you on too. you felt like a creep squeezing your thighs in his bathroom after a few minutes of minho groaning and telling the stranger how much of a good pet he’s being for him. 

from then on you always told him every time you’re coming over. he doesn’t do the same to you, very much loving going in and out of your place like he pays for it. 

he knew you never brought anyone over anyway. minho teased you for your lack of love or “lust interests”, as he called it. that earned him a flying boba ball hurling from your straw and straight towards his cheek. your “lust life” isn’t his concern anyway. and it’s the same with him. minho liked to fuck and it’s not any of your business.

he stuffs the condoms and sparkling water in his bag of groceries. 

“let’s go”, he says while blinking at you. you head out and walk back again towards the train station.  

the wind was cool on his skin. you are right beside him, the air making your hair flutter as you talk about jisung calling you earlier this morning about some prank he pulled on changbin that minho hasn’t even heard of yet. 

you and jisung have already gotten closer since you two met on his birthday. and since then, minho kept appearing in your apartment more often so his title won’t be replaced.

he wanted to listen to your story. he really did. especially when it concerned his friends being absolute idiots. but all he heard was “jisungie”, “pink”, “butt”, and “burst” while the rest of your words were getting carried away by the cool wind.

he nods at every word with a smile, trying to focus as much as he can. but seriously, how can he when the light from the streetlamp is making your features soft and all perfect for him to stare at, and when you’re letting out airy giggles that interrupts the story itself.

he laughs at that. you clutch your stomach, as if his laugh pushed yours to intensify tenfold. you don't have to know he’s laughing at you and not whatever jisung did to make poor changbin suffer. 

you calm down after a few minutes and sit at a nearby bench with a sigh and a faint smile adorning your face.

“i can’t breathe. let’s sit for a while”, you say, eyes closed. 

your eyelashes are kissing your face and he has never wanted to imitate something so bad. at this point he doesn’t care where his thoughts wander to. he doesn’t think deeply about the implications. not when he can look at you right now.

a few silent seconds and then you jerk your head to the bushes on the right. he looks at you confused. a faint meow can be heard and you all but melt when you see a tiny kitten hiding but seemingly wanting attention. 

he holds in a deep breath as you call for the cautious little stray in front of you. he gives you a packet of the cat treat he always brings, and you gently coo at it so as to not scare the poor thing away.

“it’s okay, baby. you have to eat”, you say as you kneel in front of the little guy. he smiles at that.

he told you before that cats would feel less threatened if you make yourself smaller in front of them. you always listen so well. he realizes how both of your little habits, like feeding stray cats or doing groceries, have seemed to intertwine with one another over time.

you’re talking so sweetly to the cat and it overwhelms him. if he exhaled, he thinks he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from yelling or something.

the kitten comes closer, suspicious of the stranger offering him the food. he takes a sniff, you’re as still as possible, and it eventually licks the treat. you beam. your eyes turn to crescents and it’s the most overwhelming thing ever that he ends up finally exhaling but not before clenching his jaw so hard so he won’t be able to startle you or the kitten.

you start petting it and the little fellow allows him. he knows it’s the greatest honor in life for you. much like when soonie finally sat on your lap. eventually, he collects himself and the little stray allows him to pet it too.

“wish i could put every stray cat in my bag and take it home”, he says as the kitten starts purring like an engine.

“i’ll bring my bag too so we have space for more.”

minho smiles at your statement. the little guy keeps purring as minho rubs just under his ear. 

to his shock, this one suddenly jumps on your shoulders and nestles itself on top of your head. you go completely still, afraid that if you move it will jump back down. 

minho inhales so deep. he starts thinking you’ll make him break breath-holding records someday. 

he grabs your phone that he still somehow has, trying not to make the array of keychains jangle. you laugh at his attempts to not startle the kitten with your dangling keyrings. he takes hold of your phone and takes the picture.

you look at him, still smiling, and the little guy starts making biscuits on your head. minho keeps holding his breath. you try very hard to stay really still despite feeling the ball of fur tickling your scalp. you’re trying so hard not to laugh and squirm at the kitten’s massages and minho can’t help but sigh out all the air he’s been holding.

“marry me.” 

the words are out before he knows it. it takes him a second to realize what it meant. he looks at you and it’s so silent. you’ve gotten completely still and you’re no longer smiling as the kitten makes biscuits on your head. he can hear his heart beating too loud. he fucked up. 

he fucked up. stupid stupid stupid. the kitten jumps from your head and runs to a distant meowing sound, probably its mother, and you’re still completely unmoving. you’re blinking at him, an unreadable expression on your face.

he takes your grocery bags and puts them in your hands.

“i- i gotta go. text me when you get home”, he mutters, still not looking at you.

when you move on from the shock, minho was already across the street and heading inside the train station hurriedly.

what the fuck?

you get up, still confused, and you try running to get on the train he’s in. it shuts before you can, and you’re standing there on the platform, confused and worried.

the ride back home is too loud for minho. loud and fucking heavy. minho was never good with confrontations. he was never really good at expressing what he felt either. 

marry him? what the fuck? he never paused to really think about the possible feelings he might have towards you yet the words slipped out of his mouth anyway. it slipped out faster than he realized that he might actually like you. and when he did realize, it was immediately after saying those stupid words which was why he started panicking instead of the obvious choice of laughing it off.

but he fucked up and fucked up again when he left you there. minho groans, bags heavy in his lap, and the ride home felt longer than usual.

he remembers this is where he met you, right on this train on the way to university. it was a normal day, he was on the 6 am train and you were outside rushing to get on board with a “pleasepleaseplease” leaving your mouth. 

by your luck, or his, you made it inside and sigh in relief. 

minho noticed your damp hair, baggy hoodie, and ridiculous-looking pants with too many pockets. 

you were still breathing heavily and you're holding onto one of the poles. when you looked up, your eyes directly met his. 

he blinked at you before deciding to pat the empty seat next to him. by definitely his luck, you sat there even though there were other free seats.

“thank you”, you mumbled out shyly, avoiding his gaze. he just hummed. you made no advances to talk to him after that which made him a bit disappointed.

when he noticed you bringing out your phone to check your emails, he inwardly thanked the also ridiculous-looking keychains hanging on your phone case.

“isn’t that heavy?” he asked with a teasing tone.

you looked at the voice who just spoke to you and he couldn’t help but smile wider at the shudder laced in your words.

“w-what?” 

“your keychains.”

“oh, these”, you mumble and he nods. “they don’t feel heavy to me. actually, they feel too light for my liking? i want more. some of them i bought, some are given. it’s like a collecting-thing.”

he softly laughed at your rambling that you didn’t seem to notice.

“can i see?”

you handed him your phone and your hand brushed against his. your soft hands. he inspected the thing and gave you back your phone, making sure to brush his fingers past your hand again. 

“i have one in my backpack. would you want one?” minho offered.

“r-really?” 

minho laughed at your nervous state. why were you so nervous? 

“yeah. it’s probably buried in here though so i’m not sure if i can get it right now. i can give it to you some other time, maybe?”

“you don’t have to bother, really.”

“no. it’s cute. the keychains. it would be an honor.” minho said.

“i um.. i’m al- a student in the university at the next stop. i-”

“great! me too. i’ll look for it there.”

when you two got to the university, minho dug through his backpack for one of the keytags in there. he found it under layers of crumpled paper, then noticed his jureumi doodle on it. he handed it to you with a smile and you gladly took it.

“this is quite… interesting. you drew this?” you asked.

“yeah. i- yeah.”

you laughed and immediately stuck it on one of the other keyrings on your phone.

“there! i will make sure to take care of it”, you said, bowing at him in gratitude. 

“well, i gotta make sure that you make sure to take care of it. what time’s your break?”

the rest was history. the train beeps and announces his stop so he gets up and leaves. 

it’s been four days and he hasn’t seen you since. you messaged him that night telling him you got home to which he sighed in relief but he didn’t reply back, feeling too awkward to do so. 

he didn’t come over to your place either. he can’t face you after that. 

he supposes you’d either a) tease him about it and he can finally say it was a joke but you’ll both know about how he feels anyway which will drive you away; or b) act normal and pretend it never happened and he can be relieved but you’ll both know about how he feels anyway and he wouldn’t be able to stand ignoring it. 

you actually went with option b, he thinks. he knew you weren’t good at confrontation either. you messaged him the next day if you could come over like usual but he replied with “busy” so you don’t push. 

you tried again the next day, then the next, but he kept saying the same thing. you still asked earlier this morning, the fourth time now, and he was about to reply the same four letters until his phone came flying across the couch thanks to kim seungmin.

“do you wanna get sma-”

“i can’t stand it”, the boy interrupts.

minho still looks at him angrily and a bit confused.

“i really can’t stand it. you asked to hang out but i can tell you’re angry at something and you’ve been passive-aggressive the whole time”, seungmin finally breathes out.

“first of all, i asked jisung first but he said he was busy-” 

“there you go again. what’s wrong, minho?” seungmin interrupts again.

minho just sighs. he’s feeling a bit guilty now. seungmin always meant well. maybe that’s why he called him next. even if he sucked at confrontation, seungmin read people well and maybe he just needed someone to understand without him having to say it out loud. minho didn’t realize that and apparently, the younger man was already fed up.

“it’s y/n, isn’t it?” seungmin asked. minho closes his eyes. he really is too observant.

“jisung told me that she told him you have been ignoring her” oh nevermind. so jisung told him. minho sighs, not sure if he should say the words out loud.

“i… i think i love her.”

“you think?” 

seungmin is just baffled. he laughs at his friend’s stupidity and lack of awareness of his own emotions. 

minho groans.

“so why are you ignoring her?” seungmin sat more comfortably, although a bit far from the older boy, just in case he says something that would make minho wanna smack him with a pillow.

“i told her i wanted to marry her”, minho says quietly and seungmin can’t hold himself back from laughing but minho continues. “it’s so fucking stupid. i told her that and then i realized that maybe i liked her. i just stood there like an idiot then i left.”

it felt good to get the words out, he realizes. seungmin is still laughing with a hand clutching his stomach. minho throws a pillow at him and the younger boy calms down.

“you’re cute, minho. but you still didn’t answer my question. why are you ignoring her now?"

“didn’t i just tell you?”

“no?” seungmin interjects. “did she reject your ridiculous marriage proposal?” 

“i just told you i left.”

“and there it is. you had no right to leave! you weren’t the one to say yes!” seungmin shakes his head, still smiling.

minho never considered that maybe you liked him back. he just… never did. 

he recalls back to that time he met you on the train. from the first time he laid eyes on you, you piqued his curiosity. from your wet hair to your oversized pants with too much pockets to the keychains on your phone, he really wanted to get to know you better. when you told him you were free until your 12 noon class, that also spiked his interest because why the hell were you rushing to get on the 6 am train when your classes start six hours later? 

your childlike wonder made him immediately want to be your friend. he didn’t question it since his close friends are a bunch of grown men with the interests and loudness of children anyway. not that he's any different. 

so you two became friends. best friends over the span of two years. he was too afraid that two years is all he’d ever have with you so he didn’t consider that maybe, just maybe, that there's a chance kim seungmin is right.

he was about to speak up again before hearing his doorbell ring. 

“i got it”, seungmin says. 

instead of the pizza they were expecting, you were standing there, hair damp, and in pants with too much zippers this time. 

minho’s heart skips a beat. 

you look at seungmin then look at minho then look back at the guy in front of you. 

“i- i’m sorry-”

“no. it’s alright, y/n. i was just about to leave”, seungmin reassures you. 

seungmin goes back to the living room to gather his things that were scattered like he was definitely not about to leave. 

minho stays silent, finally picking up his phone from across the couch and he opens it to the unsent message on his screen.

seungmin gives you a goodbye and a quick hug, and minho grimaces at the action. since when did seungmin hug his friends? the door shuts and you’re heading towards him. 

he’s still. he can’t ignore you forever but he thinks he can’t face you too soon.

“look at me. i’m right in front of you and you’re still ignoring me?” you pout and minho finally looks up at you, your damp hair sticking to his shirt that you’re wearing.

you’re wearing his shirt. you really went with option b after all.

“you suck at proposals, you know?” you throw something on his lap and his eyes go to the familiar cat keychain that he saw you look at in the convenience store. “asking me to marry you and you didn’t even get me a ring.. tsk.”

your words barely sink in and his heart is still beating in a speed like never before. he looks up at you again and there you are, smiling down at him like you also feel the same.

“you-”

“yes, dumbass. i accept your horrible marriage proposal.” you’re grinning from ear to ear as you finally sit down on the couch next to him. you bring out your phone and show him the dangling other half of the magnetic keychain, attached to the jureumi keytag he gave you two years ago.

minho laughs. you accepted. you accepted the proposal that wasn’t really a proposal but more like a confession. you accepted it. you accepted him. he smiles wider at the ridiculousness of the moment.

“and i suppose these are the rings?” minho teases.

“mhm! want me to put it on your finger?” 

he laughs at that but nods. you insert the wide ring of the keychain on his finger and he giggles at the empty space.

“ya, you didn’t even get my ring size right!” he teases, eyes sparkling and heart practically bursting. he thinks he’s never been this happy.

“you really shouldn’t complain”, you retort back with a smile. “i mean, really, you proposed while i’m the one kneeling down, without rings, and then left! you’re hopeless, lee minho. at least i got us something”

minho grins while shaking his head.

“i’m sorry for leaving, y/n”, he takes your hand and kisses your fingers one by one. 

goosebumps run all over your body while his soft lips grace your skin. “in my defense, i didn’t know i’d be proposing.”

minho stops kissing your hand, taking your ring finger and inserting it into the empty space in the keychain right next to his.

“there. it fits perfectly.”

he looks at you, almost too fond, and you aren’t smiling anymore. you’re looking at him like you’re about to cry.

“you are so sappy. i’m in love with you, you know?” you whisper like it's a secret you are never meant to tell. minho looks at you and notices how glassy your eyes have become.

“shh. it’s okay.” 

he tucks a hair strand behind your ear. “i’m in love with you too. good for us, honestly. wouldn’t want us to marry when we don’t love each other.”

he’s sure your soft laughter is better than any music ever heard in this world.

“can i hug you?” you ask him shyly. 

the butterflies in his stomach are going crazy at that point but he lets out a chuckle at your question. he doesn’t quite understand how you’re still able to get so shy with him after all this time.

“you don’t have to ask.”

“i know, but just to be su-” minho interrupts you, removing the keychain from your fingers and quickly maneuvering you on top of his lap. you squeak and he encages you in a tight embrace.

you wrap your arms around his shoulders in return and you just about melt into his hug.

“you smell so good”, minho mutters while burying his nose into your neck. 

your previously damp hair that is now dry made him aware of your fresh-out-of-the-shower scent, and he inhales you in so deep, wanting to stay there forever. he can’t help but press a lingering kiss on your neck.

you whimper at the unexpected kiss. minho smiles at your reaction and peppers a few more kisses. you being so close to him is much better than smelling your scent in your bathroom. his lips continue kissing and he feels you let go of the hug, deciding to grip onto the material of his hoodie instead.

“minho”, you sigh, trying to even your breathing. 

“mm? what’s the matter?” he gets lost in your scent and decides that him inhaling isn’t enough. he licks the skin and groans at the shiver that runs through your whole body. “you’re so sensitive..”

he can feel you gripping the fabric tighter. he chuckles right next to your ear and that simple thing makes you shiver again which further amuses him.

minho licks another spot and he was about to suck on it, but someone rings the doorbell. he ignores it with a huff and proceeds to suck on the area. you let out a tiny moan and he smiles, sucking on it a bit harder. 

to both of your dismay, the doorbell rings again and minho gathers all his self-restraint to remove himself from you. 

he kisses your neck one last time before removing you from his lap. the grumpy look on his face is evident as he gets up to see what was so important that he was interrupted from marking you.

apparently it was the pizza that seungmin ordered. he thanked the delivery guy with a tip, and placed the food on the table.

you’re focused, putting the other half of the magnetic keychain on his phone case. he feels his heart melting.

“seungminnie ordered this with his money. i suppose we can enjoy this.” he grins at the mention of eating seungmin’s food and you just nod while blinking at him slowly with a blank expression. “or maybe we can eat this later.”

minho hovers over your figure and encages you on the couch. you’re just looking at him, smiling like a fool with dazed eyes. 

“you wanna continue, pretty girl?” minho asks in that sickeningly sweet tone. you could’ve sworn that there was concern laced in his voice if his hand wasn’t rubbing your thigh firmly which definitely overwhelmed you some more.

“min, i..” you start speaking but the rest of your sentence dies in your throat as you look at his hand inching higher. 

“mm?” he smiles down at you, noticing your hands digging into his couch. “don’t worry, baby. i’ll take care of you. will you let me?”

you nod at him. minho smiles. 

“but i… i’m not sure-”

“if you’re not ready right now, it’s okay. we can just eat-”

“no!” you interrupt him quickly. “it’s okay. i mean, i want it. now. i just- i’m not sure if i can be good? i don’t know what to do.”

minho’s heart skips a beat at your words. you’re just too cute. how can you ever think you won’t be good? you’re already being so good right now.

“shh. it’s okay. you’re already perfect. i said i’ll take care of you, yeah?” minho kisses your forehead and you know for sure that everything his lips touch makes you a bit dizzy.

“sorry. i’m acting like i don’t know shit. but like, practically, i don’t? i’m not a virgin but i- i uh i’ve only slept with one person so far.”

he giggles at your nervous rambling. you’re too adorable.

“yeah. you mentioned that before. it’s okay, pretty. don’t be nervous. it’s just me.”

“i didn’t tell you it was with a…  woman. the person i lost it to. so i, um, i don’t know how to handle stuff with a guy.” you confess.

minho’s cock twitches at the confession. not a single guy. he’s the first man you’ll ever have. you notice his jaw clench and he squeezes your thigh.

“you still want me?” minho asks, hoping for the obvious answer.

“want you now.”

minho nods and finally kisses you on the lips. 

your lips are so soft against his. it’s so soft and perfect and somehow familiar. 

he’s kissing you like it’s something he’s been practicing for his whole life. he lifts you from the couch, carrying you in his arms. your lips are slotted against each other. he licks over it and you let a moan escape making his tongue slip inside.

your mouth is so fucking perfect. so wet and so warm. his cock envies his tongue at the moment and he hurriedly opens the door to his bedroom. 

he lays you down on the bed and you let out a little stretch. he laughs at your cuteness.

“take it off.” you point at his clothes. he has such a smug look on his face. this can’t be happening. no, this really is. 

he removes his shirt and lays on top of you. 

he’s so beautiful like this. you trace your fingers on his skin, mouth agape at your crazy hot best friend, looking down at you with a smile. you trace the scar on his abdomen that somehow makes him prettier. minho laughs at your actions.

he takes your wandering hands and pins them right beside you. he kisses you again in the same breath, harder, messier, more forceful as if he wants to consume you whole. you whine into the kiss and he all but swallows your noises, licking and biting and sucking all over your mouth. 

when minho’s hands let go of your pinned arms, you scramble to hold onto his shoulders. he kisses down your neck, hands touching everywhere and eventually bunching up the fabric of his shirt you’re wearing, up and over your head. 

“shit.”

his mouth kisses all the way down to your collarbones, then to your shoulders, and he pulls one of the straps down, kissing the spot where the bra strap was. 

“minho, need you already.” you desperately sigh while tugging at his hair. he kept kissing all over your shoulders and down your chest, before pulling down the cups and letting your breasts spill out. his jaw clenches. even better than he thought.

“i know, baby. but let me take my time, yeah?” he says sweetly with a furrow in his brows before groping one of your tits and licking your nipple. he feels you whine and shudder at the sensation. “fuck.”

he keeps his hands full of them, continuing to lick and suck while humming in content. 

at that point you can no longer help but squeeze and scratch his shoulders.

minho lets go of your nipple and grins.

“kitty likes to scratch? is this too much?” he says with fake concern in his voice while he pinches the hardened bud. your eyes close, hands gripping him tighter because of how sensitive he’s making you

“i asked you a question, baby. look at me when i ask you a question.” he brings himself back up to look at your cute face all scrunched up, his hand stroking your cheek with his thumb. this is too much. how can he be demanding yet fucking soft about it?

you open your eyes, brows furrowed in frustration.

“there we go. now answer. is this too much?” he goes back to your chest again, slowly this time, dragging his finger downwards. when he reaches your breast, he encircles your nipple and rubs it lightly, his feather-light touch making you tremble. 

“yes”, you whined. “minho-”

he suddenly pinches hard and rolls it in between his fingers. you moan out loud and he chuckles, admiring how much of a mess he’s already made of you.

he unclasps your bra and dives his tongue into your mouth again while his fingers pull down the zipper on your pants. he tugs it off but is met with resistance. confused, he breaks away from the kiss and sees that it was the wrong zipper. you giggle after realizing what happened.

“you and your weird pants.” he zips down the proper zipper this time, and pulls it down along with your underwear. 

your jumpy thighs immediately close at the cool air in his room but he spreads them wide for him, negating your attempts.

“shit, you’re made for me.” he runs a finger through your folds, gathering the slick that formed and spreading it all over your cunt. “so wet, baby. knew you’d leak for me just right.”

you bite your lip, muffling your sounds when his fingers come into contact with your pussy. he takes a thumb to your clit and rubs. 

“min-”

“i know, baby. it’s been so long, hasn’t it?” he coos, applying more pressure. “i’ll play with it for a bit. you’ll let me, yeah?”

minho’s position in between your legs kept you from your poor attempts of bringing your thighs together. he pinches your clit softly and your hips jerk even more.

“you can’t keep still, can you?” minho chuckles. “it’s okay, i’ll make you.”

minho lays down, eyes right above your cunt. he spreads your pussy with two of his fingers before diving in for a taste. he groans. too fucking good.  

your thighs enclose his head. he takes both of his arms to hold your hips down while he greedily laps at your cunt. 

“mmh” he mumbles onto your wetness, alternating between lingering flicks to your clit, licking down to gather more of your slick, then back above. “hold your legs, baby. be good for me, yeah?”

you listen to him, hooking your hands below your knees. you’re crying out his name and he takes it upon himself to add his fingers to the mix. 

he slips his middle finger inside, groaning at the resistance. god, your’e so fucking tight. his tongue starts sucking on your clit and you whine for him so cutely. he buries the whole finger in, making you gasp, and he temporarily releases you from his mouth.

“mm. there we go.”

minho is already drunk on your cunt at this point. he goes back to licking and sucking and thrusting and playing with it like he said he would. 

he adds another finger afterwards and starts scissoring you open. 

one specific curl of his fingers gets you moaning his name, more high-pitched than the previous ones. he chuckles directly on your pussy and does it again while simultaneously dragging his teeth across your clit.

you thrash under him, gripping under your legs harder, still following what he told you to do. so obedient. 

minho is fucking livid. he’s messy with it. you can feel his heavy tongue and plump lips all over you. your moans are getting more frequent, your legs starting to shake.

“you feel it baby?” minho says in between licks, his fingers continuing to abuse that one spot. you think you’re about to burst.

“min- please. i’ll-”

“cum on my tongue.” he orders and your body follows him. you cum so dizzyingly hard and minho continues dragging his hot tongue on your cunt. you let go of your thighs and push his head crying about it being too much.

he pulls off with a smile, licking his fingers that were just in you. intoxicating.

you’re breathing heavily, eyes closed from the intense orgasm and thighs practically vibrating. your hair is messy on his sheets, parts of your sucked red and purple, your pussy glistening because of him. all of it, because of him. you’re so fucking insatiable. 

he runs his hand up your shaking thighs and you flinch at his touch. he rubs his hand on your swollen clit and you flinch harder, still sensitive. 

“poor baby is twitching. can’t wait to be buried right here.” he drags his hand up from your cunt to your lower belly and pushes down. you squirm. after a while, you finally open your eyes and look at him.

he’s smiling wide, mouth a whole mess, even his nose was a bit wet because of you. you’d be embarrassed but he’s so fucking pretty and it turns you on even more.

“n-need a moment, min.” you say in a hushed tone, still trying to even your breathing. minho nods and lies down next to you, tucking your hair behind your ear again. how is he so soft?

“take your time. you’re so beautiful all spread like this.” his voice is so fond. “could stare at you all day.”

“you’re pretty too.” you tell him with a smile, eyes traveling down his form. 

he’s still wearing his sweatpants and you notice his dick poking through it. your curious hands travel down his stomach to the bulging outline in his pants. minho hisses and grabs your hand.

“you’re going to drive me insane.” minho is too fucking hard and he’s trying his best to wait since you needed your moment. but the way you look in front of him, fully naked with your innocent eyes and soft hands wanting to grab his dick, he might just lose it.

“wanna see it, min. can i?” you ask. 

you’re a goddamn angel. you’re asking permission and that somehow makes his cock twitch. he can’t really resist you, not when you’re looking at him like that. and not like he wanted to anyway. 

he sits against his headboard, motioning you to sit on his lap. he rubs your thighs gently. you’re so warm on top of him. so pretty. 

“pull it out then.” 

with shaky hands, you pull down his sweatpants just enough to pull his hard cock out. he bites his lip when your soft fucking hands touch his dick. he can feel his ego inflating when you gasp and look at it with wide eyes. 

he’s big. you haven’t seen a lot of dicks but you know it's big. thicker than what you’ve seen in the media, and a bit more than average in length.

“it’s..”

“hm?”

“it’s really pretty like you.” 

minho laughs at your statement. you have his hard cock in your soft hands and you’re calling him pretty. you’re too fucking cute. 

you notice it’s already leaking a considerable amount. you swipe experimentally at the tip and he grips your thighs harder.

“baby”, he speaks in warning.

“mm?” you continue caressing his dick, admiring how his thigh muscles clench and his breathing hitches.

“don’t be a brat. you said you needed a moment.”

“but you’re so sensitive here too?” you return the faux concern to him. you squeeze just below the tip and he moans. “wanna play with it, min. like you did with me.”

oh? you’re getting bold? minho clenches his jaw, glaring at you. he wanted you to stop before he cums too soon, but your soft and warm fucking hands felt too good on his cock. he tries to distract you.

“grab a condom from my drawer, baby.” thankfully, you obey. you notice it’s the new condoms. who knew he really was gonna use it for you.

you open the foil, and he guides you to slip it down his cock. eventually, you start stroking him again and he whimpers.

“see? you like it!” you say confidently while minho’s brain starts glitching. “you’re gonna lay there for me, won’t you?”

you’re getting cocky. and somehow it’s turning him on more. you’re on top of him acting like a big girl. he likes that. he’ll put you back in place eventually.

“yeah? you wanna play?” 

you nod with a faint smile, still softly stroking his dick.

“we’ll play on my own terms, pretty.”

he grabs your hips with rough palms and sits you right on top of his cock. both of you moan at the wetness. he grips your hips and grinds you down. 

“minho-” you whine, gripping onto his shoulders. 

you’re squirming again, trying to get out of his hold on. your clit is still a bit sensitive from earlier yet he’s dragging it on his wet cock like he wants it to overwhelm you. minho grunts.

“said you wanted to play with it. you don’t like this?” minho says, his voice like honey right next to your ear. 

he’s fucking pressing you down on it. your thighs are so fidgety but his strong hands are still holding your hips down, making you take it.

you just whimper and he laughs.

“your moment passed, baby. i’m gonna fuck you now.”

minho swiftly pins you down under him, tapping his cock on your clit.

“shit, min-”

“you ready, baby?”

“still sensitive. don’t know if i’ll last”, you answer honestly. minho kisses your forehead.

“it’s alright, y/n. it’s just me.”

you nod at him and he collects your slick on his cock, hissing through his teeth. he pushes one of your legs up, his other hand slowly inching the tip in your entrance.

“fuck.”

you’re clutching the sheets. it fucking hurts. you’re both so wet against each other but his huge fucking cock felt too much.

“hurts, min.”

minho hums, stopping his movements. his tip is already in, and he starts to press soft kisses on your neck again. 

he rubs on your clit and you twitch under him, inserting his cock in you even more slowly. 

you’re so fucking tight. tight and wet and fucking perfect. you’re clenching so hard on him, he can barely slip inside without using his hand to guide him in. he’s breathing heavily above you, and he notices you stopped breathing altogether.

“baby, breathe.” he caresses your thigh softly. “i know it hurts but i promise it’s gonna be good later. breathe for me. try to relax.”

his soft voice is washing over your senses. you nod as you try to follow his words. who knew taking his cock would be so fucking hard? 

“there you go. not used to taking big cocks, huh?” minho teases which gets you laughing airily. “i suppose you’re not used to taking cocks at all. so i should really make this good for you.”

you take a moment to try and focus on something else other than that thing penetrating you. you look at minho smiling down at you, eyes fucking sparkling like he’s waited for this his whole life. he’s really so beautiful. if you knew he’d look this pretty for you right from the start, you would’ve approached him sooner on the train. it doesn’t matter though. you have him now.

“you can try moving again.” you softly mutter.

minho rubs on your clit a bit more firmly, and keeps whispering in your ear while situating himself inside.

“so good, baby. you have no idea.”

“you’re clenching so much. try to relax. for me? don’t wanna cum while i’m not even halfway inside you.”

“shit, feels perfect in here.”

“there we go. shh sh, it’s alright you’re doing so well.”

“just a few more. still hurts?”

“feels full? i know, pretty. but just a bit more.”

he talks you through it and you swear your mind is already fuzzy by the time he bottoms out.

“you took it all. i’m so proud of you.” he says with a kiss on your cheek. he feels your cunt clench around him at his words and he smiles.

“min- fuck, it’s so deep.”

���i know. let me know if i can move, yeah?” minho is gripping onto the sheets. you’re so fucking snug and wet around his cock. it’s better than any fucking thing ever. he could stay buried here. 

after a few soft kisses and involuntary clenches, you decide that you’re ready for him to move. minho pushes your leg higher, dragging himself out and slowly sliding back in with a little force. 

“shit, minho.”

“you’re so tight. fucking gripping me.”

minho repeats the motions, slow but hard, and soon enough you’re squeezing his arms and moaning his name. you can feel him rub against a certain spot and you’re sure you’re about to explode.

“p-please go faster.”

“you sure?”

“yes, min. fuck- just. please.”

minho kneels and presses both of your legs to your chest. he slips his cock inside you hard and gets to a pace quicker than before. he fits so well. you start screaming from him as his dick rubs against your g-spot even better and he starts kissing your mouth again. he licks and sucks on your tongue, and lifts your hips a bit higher and angles his hips a bit differently then rams his cock into you.

“f-fuck, minho. n-not so hard.” you cry out, wincing at the pain of him nudging your cervix. it’s fucking painful. minho apologizes and pulls out, rubbing his head on your clit to get your mind off the pain.

“i wanna try something. wanna take you from behind. you alright with that?” minho says softly.

“o-okay.” you nod, and minho presses a sweet kiss to your lips before flipping you over.

he manhandles you to a position he likes, ass up, face down, spreading your legs a bit wider. you’re a dream. he taps his tip on your pussy, which gets your whining, before slipping inside and continuing his pace.

you’re squirming and moaning much more. somehow, his dick felt even better in this position. minho grabs your ass and thrusts just how he likes. you’re crying out his name.

“mmm. letting me do this to you.. you like taking big cocks, baby?” he says, gripping your bruised hips so tight like it’s his job. you’re nodding, hair messy all over his pillows.

“o-only yours.” you cry out loud. you’re already drooling but he can’t see that.

“that’s right. only mine. i’ll train you to please it. train you to crave it. you’ll like that, won't you?”

he angles his hips and slams into that fucking spot which gets you twitching under him.

“i asked you a question, baby. what did i tell you to do when i ask you a question?”

he gets one of his hands to pull both your arms together, tugging so your head would be lifted up. minho takes his other hand, holding your jaw firmly. you look behind you, staring at him, and he sees how fucking beautiful you are. your cheeks are stained with tears, your chin wobbling with drool over them, your eyes glassy and dazed from how good he’s fucking you.

“that’s right. thought you forgot.” he keeps thrusting and you’re moaning so loud as if it’s the only thing you’re good for. “so? would you like that? train you to be mine?”

minho is so fucking mean. 

you try to answer. you really do. but every time your mouth moves, he just slams into that spot that gets you moaning his name instead.

“can’t even speak?” minho laughs and decides to let go of your face. you fall back into the pillows. 

“i’ll let it slide for now since i have to make sure to fuck you good.”

he carries on with his thrusts. you’re trying so hard to prolong your orgasm, not wanting this to end. he starts groping your tits from behind you, his other hand rubbing your clit in quick motions. fuck. 

minho is so close. your pussy is so fucking wet and the recoil of your ass from his thrusts is driving him insane. you can’t control your moans and he knows you’re close as well.

“you close, baby?” he huffs.

“yes, min. i’m- s-o close.”

“hold it.” 

you fucking groan. minho’s brows are furrowed, he’s focusing on your wet fucking cunt squelching so loud from his rubbing and thrusting. your legs start to shake violently, minho slaps your ass from how fucking dirty you look and feel around him.

“min, i can’t-”

“you can.”

“no-”

“just a little more. you’re cumming with me.”

minho is thrusting like a mad man. his grip on you is so tight, and you’re fucking begging for him to let you cum.

“pleasepleaseplease-”

“cum.”

you jerk violently under him while moaning his name, and he’s cumming. he’s cumming so fucking hard. harder than he ever had in his life. it’s so good. so fucking addicting. he’s moaning in your ear, you’re clenching around him so hard and it’s so wet and overwhelming. he tries to pull out but you’re gripping his cock fucking tightly like you’re made to keep him there. he feels himself weaken and he slumps on top of you. 

it takes him a few moments to regain himself, and he slowly removes himself from inside you.

you were in a faraway place. your body feels too light, but also so heavy that you can’t move. you can’t think either. you feel minho flipping you on your back. he’s talking so sweetly but you can’t really register his words while he kisses your lips, then your nose, then your forehead, then the top of your head.

he mutters something about cleaning you both and you’re too far away to respond. it’s good. you feel fucking great. after a while, the bed dips and he’s running a warm cloth in between your thighs. 

you’re so pretty, he thinks. like his personal angel. you’re laying their dazed, and he thinks he’s the luckiest fucking person in the world. he can see your eyes getting droopy, about to pass out from the amazing sex you both had. 

minho dresses you both, and wraps you in his blanket.

“you’re too cute. i’ll be here when you wake up.” 

after a few hours, you wake up with your entire body aching. it’s usual for you since you manage to sleep in odd positions. but this time, it ached in new places. you chuckle at the memory. you sit back up and rub your eyes.

minho enters his room, glad that you’re already awake. 

“sleep well?”

you nod. you notice he’s carrying a paper bag in his hands. minho drops it on his desk and heads to your soft form on his bed. he kisses you on the mouth and you freeze with a blush.

minho notices and laughs at you.

“i already had my tongue in you and you’re blushing at a little kiss?” he smiles widely. his words make you blush more.

“you took me by surprise is all...” you try defending yourself. you know you wouldn’t get used to your friend being so physically intimate with you any time soon. you can’t help but feel all shy.

it’s minho, for fuck’s sake. your asshole friend who keeps stealing your food and taking horrible pictures of you. but that’s exactly why. 

it’s minho. your asshole friend who’s too sweet and pretty and funny for his own good.

“what’s going through your pretty head?” minho asks, tracing his fingers on your bare thigh.. your smooth thigh he can now touch like this.

“i can’t believe we skipped the marriage and went straight to the honeymoon” you tease. he laughs with you.

“yeah we kinda suck at this. skipping the boyfriend-girlfriend phase and straight to engagement..” minho mumbles with a smile while kissing your bruised neck. “then skipping the marriage and straight to consummation.”

you shiver while giggling at his kisses. you’re so sensitive for him. he likes that.

“wouldn’t have it any other way.” you say. 

his hands inch higher and higher on your thighs until he gets interrupted by the grumble of your stomach. both of you laugh.

“we have all the time in the world to continue later. let’s get you fed.” minho grins, pulling you from the bed. 

“oh and”, minho smiles widely, giving you the paper bag. you look at the contents with a grin of success on your face. “there’s your pudding. compounded.”

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a/n: that was a lot. stretch a bit, drink some water, wash your face. that's what i did after writing lololol. i rlly hope this wasn't too much.. ALSO i tagged ppl who were asking for a part 2. if u want to get removed pls lmk!

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tags: @stayinlimbo @all4minnie @emmaluvsjisung @ddiidi @8bigguys @sunnysidesins