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aureatelys · 2 months ago

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lunch break

pairing: jesse/fem!reader genre: smut smut smut w.c.: 5.5k a/n: the first scene of 2x03 had me blacking out and then i wrote this in two days. this is my first time writing for jesse, pls be gentle and i hope you enjoy because i had so much fun writing this <3 ty for my dear lover for enabling me. you can also imagine either show or game jesse for this!

summary: You've been distracted by your boyfriend all morning. Jesse knows you better than you expected.

c.w.: 18+ MDNI, porn no plot, post 2x02 but joel lives (!), established relationship, jesse is sexy and reader is horny for his arms, oral sex (f receiving), brief fingering, unprotected p in v sex (lets pretend birth control exists ok), fluff, no y/n

read below or on ao3 here <3

You’re starting to wonder if you’ve gone insane.

Jackson has been somber for the past several months—mourning all the losses after the walls were breached and focusing on rebuilding. The makeshift hospital was still as busy as ever, and every time word spread that another person had succumbed to their injuries, the weight that seemed to blanket over the town grew heavier, quieter.

Luckily, you hadn’t lost anybody you were particularly close with. Even then, you’re not sure if you would even have the time to mourn them with how hard the council was pushing any and all able-bodied people to help in the rebuild. Your body was sore and hands were covered in blisters as you helped carry logs of wood to the main street.

So, you’re not exactly sure why you’re about to start drooling, heart thudding in your chest and pulsing between your legs, as you watch Jesse lift a sledgehammer to pound a wooden pillar into the ground.

You stop in your tracks, arms aching despite the small bundle of wood you’re carrying, as you stare, absolutely transfixed.

Jesse always ran warm, warmer than you, so despite the chill in the spring air, he was wearing a short-sleeved shirt that showcased his broad shoulders and thick arms. You watch as his muscles bulge with every lift of the sledgehammer, the prominent veins running along his forearms drawing your attention. The buttons of his shirt were undone, providing you a delicious peak of his chest, as if he was teasing you.

Sweat was already starting to form along his hairline, causing a few strands to start sticking to his skin. His pants were tight, unfairly hugging his hips, his thick thighs straining through the fabric. If you strain your ears hard enough, now able to discern the low cadence of his voice through a crowd, you could detect the quiet grunts with every lift of the sledgehammer.

You blame the fact that you both have been too busy with the repairs and Jesse being added to the council for the way molten heat begins to pool at your core, fingers twitching with the rampant desire to get your hands on him.

The only time you’ve been able to spend with Jesse lately was when he would crawl into your bed late at night, usually when you were already asleep. Sometimes you were able to wake up before he had to leave and would only have time to press your face into his chest, inhaling and memorizing his clean scent. Other times he’d already be gone, leaving a short and concise note but with a crooked little heart next to his name.

So you’re a little sexually frustrated, okay?

“You alright?”

You startle out of your thoughts, tearing your gaze away from your boyfriend continuing to grunt extremely inappropriately, to Tommy sitting on the sidelines while he waited for his turn.

He’s watching you with a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips despite the weariness physically weighing on his shoulders.

Tommy’s nice, always has been, and seemed to be around you more lately after he found out you and Jesse were a thing. You’re not exactly sure why, but you had found yourself spending more time with him and Maria, Ellie, and even Joel. You were starting to feel like you had an actual group of people that cared about you.

His question seems to have caught Jesse’s attention. He stops working, resting the sledgehammer onto the ground and leaning against it, raising an eyebrow at you.

Jesse’s protective, always has been, but even moreso in the past several weeks. He says it’s because he knows you and how you’re a little reckless, impulsive, but you know that’s not entirely true.

You feel heat crawl up your neck at being caught ogling, and you don’t even bother to tiptoe around Tommy like you know other people have been doing after Joel’s near-death experience when you mutter a “shut up” and stalk away.

You hear Tommy laugh. The sound makes you smile, your shoulders loosening up because he’s been so stressed lately with the rebuild and worrying about Joel still in the hospital.

You ignore the weight of Jesse’s gaze digging into your back.

You’re unfortunately tasked with clearing out some additional rubble from a nearby building, which means your entire morning is spent with Jesse’s grunting and groaning within earshot as he worked only several feet away.

It’s a cruel form of torture, and you almost drop at least 2 pieces of concrete on your feet because you were too enraptured by the way you could see his muscles shift underneath his shirt.

By the time your group breaks for lunch, you’re shifting uncomfortably due to the wetness gathering in your panties and brushing against your thighs. The ache in your shoulders and hips pales in comparison to the ache in your core as Jesse sidles up next to you silently.

“Ready?” he asks, slightly out of breath and brushing his hair away from his forehead with his wrist. He’s so hot, it’s really unfair.

It was Jesse’s suggestion to take a lunch together whenever you could if he wasn’t busy. Your heart had thumped an erratic and concerning pace when he brought it up, his voice low and tinged with an endearing sort of bashfulness.

It had taken you awhile but you’ve come to find out that Jesse was more affectionate in private than in public. He liked to spend time with you, enjoyed being in your presence and sitting in silence. He didn’t have much dating experience besides Dina, who often took the reins in their relationship, so him making an effort to make time for you despite his busy schedule was new to the both of you.

“Yep,” you say, hoping he doesn’t notice the rasp in your voice, and steps in time with him as you head to your house only a couple blocks away.

Jesse has only been able to join you for lunch a handful of times, often having to give you a regretful smile before being pulled away for an emergency council meeting or to help another person on the other side of town. You didn’t mind, you knew he was busy, knew that this was what to be expected after he had told you that night that he was talking to Maria about being added to the council.

You admired him and his tenacity for wanting to help the people of Jackson. He was undoubtedly the most responsible person in your age group and it only made sense that he got added since he was friendly, even had a golden boy reputation.

You knew that he couldn’t talk about what happened during their meetings, even to you, and you honestly didn’t have much to talk about besides the fact that your neighbor’s dog slept on your porch last night.

So you two walked in comfortable silence, his bare arm brushing against your sleeve every few paces. Even through your multiple layers, the warmth of him still bled through the sweaters and was doing nothing to quell the building heat underneath your skin. The smell of him and his sweat, mixing with the smoky burning of wood nearby, was starting to make you feel faint.

By the time you two make it to your house, you were one second away from falling to your knees and scrambling to unbuckle his belt to tug his pants down and take him in your mouth.

It’s when the front door closes behind you when Jesse asks “You okay?”

You’re toeing off your boots and tugging off your jacket to throw over the rusty coatrack by the door before making your way to the kitchen, already preoccupied by trying to remember what sandwich ingredients you could scrounge together. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“You just seemed distracted today.”

You have no idea. “I’m just tired today.”

Jesse hums, and you think you’re off the hook and can focus on rushing to make a sandwich because Tommy does not give you guys enough time for lunch, when he’s suddenly pressing up against you, his large hands resting on your hips and mouth inches from your ear as he mutters “So that’s why you kept staring at me today? Because you were distracted?”

You huff out a laugh, setting down your butter knife, because you’re honestly not surprised. Jesse was possibly the most perceptive person you knew, of course he would notice that you were ogling him all morning. You knew at this point, there was no harm in hiding anymore.

You lean back into his chest, sturdy and warm, as he noses at the nape of your neck. “And what if I was?”

“Just making sure.” And then he’s spinning you around until the edge of the counter digs into the small of your back and pressing his mouth to yours.

He’s gentle, always gentle, his hands skimming up your sides reverently, as if worried you were about to disappear into thin air. His lips are unbearably soft, maybe a little chapped, as you kiss him back and part your lips with a sigh. He tastes like the stale coffee from this morning and it’s the best thing you’ve had all day.

You loop your arms around his broad shoulders, tugging him closer until the hard line of his body was pressed up against yours. You card your fingers through the tufts of hair at the nape of his neck, humming at the sensation of being trapped by his body, and experimentally tug.

Jesse lets out a low groan, muffled against your mouth, and then his large hands slide down to your ass to squeeze once before suddenly lifting you up.

You squeal against his lips, causing him to smile, and your legs instinctually come to wrap around his waist despite already being seated on the counter. The coldness seeping through your jeans shocks you and provides a delicious contrast with Jesse’s heated body against yours.

When you separate from each other, you’re panting into each other’s open mouths. Jesse leans his forehead against yours, hands on your thighs, and from this proximity, you’re mesmerized by the fan of his eyelashes against his cheekbones as he catches his breath and the way his hair tickled your face.

When he opens his eyes to peer into yours, your breath gets stuck in your throat along with something else you can’t name at his hungry gaze, eyes dark and pupils wide.

Jesse has always been able to say so much with just his eyes; a sharp warning that Maria was on her way to give you a stern talking to, warm fondness when you were telling him about what you bartered for today at the market, or primal desire whenever you stripped and crawled into bed with him.

“Are you okay with skipping lunch today?” he asks, voice a low timbre that sends a shiver running down your spine. His hands, rough with the day’s work, knead your thighs through your jeans, and the silent strength in his thick fingers and the flex of the muscles in his biceps has you licking your lips. You could feel the heat of his cock, hard and confined in his jeans, against your inner thigh.

“Are you going to eat something else?”

Jesse rolls his eyes, an exasperated smile tugging at his lips that he tries to hide. It has you beaming. He squeezes your inner thighs a bit harder, as if in a warning. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“Yeah, but you love me,” you say, before you could think better of it.

It’s slight, but you can tell he pauses by the way his breath catches and his hands falter. A rush of panic rises up your throat and you say, as nonchalantly as you could, “As long as you sneak me something from the food hall later?”

You hope he can’t tell that you’re holding your breath, nearly praying that he doesn’t point out your slip up.

His eyes soften, causing a sudden weakness in your chest, before he’s reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Deal.”

You give him a shaky smile. You know he sees right through you.

But it doesn’t matter, because he’s leaning in to kiss you again, harder, rougher, as if he can’t find the words he wants to say and lets his desire for you to do the talking for him.

You melt into him, you always do, and when you press your palm against his chest to feel the steady rhythm of his heart, you’ve never felt so safe in your entire life.

“I guess we better hurry up then,” he whispers, giving you a slight smirk, before his hands expertly unbuttons your jeans, tugs down the zipper, and then helps you tug them down all the way off your legs.

You nod rapidly, causing him to chuckle breathily. You reach out for him to grab at his arms, pulling him in to kiss you again.

He obliges, because he always does when you peer up at him with glazed over eyes, as if he’s already fucked you.

You hum against his mouth, the ache in your pussy starting to become unbearable. You’re barely aware of his hands running down your bare thighs, causing goosebumps to rise, before he’s lifting your legs up by the knees to prop your feet up on the counter.

The new position has you spread open and exposed, dimly aware of the way you could feel your panties sticking to your pussy. You’re expecting him to rub his thick fingers alongside your seam through the fabric, coaxing a breathy whimper from your lips, before tugging it aside to thrust a finger inside of your soaking entrance.

You don’t expect him to pull away. You definitely don’t expect him to fall to his knees, face achingly close to your center, while his hands squeeze at the flesh of your thighs before prying them apart.

“Oh,” you exhale, eyes wide, as your hands scramble to the dull edge of the counter as your mind reels at the heady image of Jesse, sweet and courteous, on his knees. His face inches from your pussy.

“Fuck, baby, you’re already so wet,” he whispers, as if in awe. His right hand comes to trace the edge of your panties, a plain baby blue color, while he stares unblinkingly at the definite wet spot at the center.

“I was just kidding, you don’t actually have to—”

“I want to,” he says, and when he looks up at you, your chest aches at the tender affection clear on his face. “Is that okay?”

And it’s not like he hasn’t gone down on you before. In fact, it seems like he tries to eat you out any chance he got, which you were definitely not complaining about. You still shivered when you thought about the first time he ate you out, the first time you ever came from another man’s mouth on you, and how your thighs trembled as you squeezed around his head. You swear you had thought you died and gone to heaven.

Now, however…

“We’ve just had a long morning; you know I sweat a lot…” you trail off. It sounds weak, even to your own ears.

Another exasperated sigh, though this time Jesse doesn’t even bother hiding the fond smile. “You know I don’t care about that.”

But he waits. He stays on his knees, thumbs tracing comforting and distracting circles against your inner thighs, and he just waits. For your permission.

You don’t think your heart can swell any further before it’s bound to burst. “Okay.”

Jesse’s smile grows, making him look utterly sweet and boyish, before leaning in to press an open-mouthed kiss on your inner thigh, and then another, and then another.

“Don’t worry,” he mumbles, as his kisses begin moving inwards to your aching cunt.

You exhale unsteadily, thighs already starting to shake from holding this position and the sensation of his mouth on you. The scratch of his slightly chapped lips, the damp kisses he leaves that cool as soon as he moves to the next inch of skin, and his hands that have moved to your thighs and taking some of your weight, has you nearly begging for him to hurry up.

As if he can read your mind, he pauses, his mouth hovering over the crotch of your panties that have undoubtedly melded to your pussy.

“Besides,” Jesse whispers, and the barest brush of his lips against the fabric has you shivering. You resist the urge to card your fingers through his hair to tug his face closer. “I have to take care of my girl, right?”

And then he’s pressing his open mouth to your cunt, deliberately nowhere close to your clit, but the action still wretches a gasp out of you. His mouth and his breath are hot as he takes his time, as if warming you up despite the fact that you two do not have enough time for this.

But he just looks so pretty, you think as you glance down at him. His eyes were shut, savoring you, brow relaxed as if he wouldn’t be anywhere else in the world besides between your thighs.

“Jesse..” you sigh, slightly frustrated, as you thread your fingers through his hair to push out of his face. Your hips jolt forward, impatient.

He opens his eyes at that and the heat in his expression has you wanting to scoot forward on the counter until your ass was hanging off, if only to get closer to him. He cocks his eyebrow at you and mutters something suspiciously like you’re lucky that I like you so much.

Before you could question him, he’s parting his lips and then laving his tongue over you, flat and over your clit through the fabric of your panties.

You let out a soft moan, your hand on his hair tightening. The action causes Jesse to groan, muffled between your thighs, and then he’s diving in fully, pressing sloppy wet kisses against your core.

It’s heavenly, especially after not being touched for several weeks, but it’s still not enough as your hips shift forward to chase the feeling of his warm mouth.

His hands on your thighs tighten, another warning, before he’s finally dipping his thumb into the crotch of your panties to pull it aside and exposing your soaking cunt to him.

You don’t even have time to gasp at the rush of cool air against your warm skin before his mouth is on you again, tongue parting your puffy folds as he licks a stripe up your seam.

A shaky moan falls from your lips, sheer ecstasy at finally being touched without some stupid fabric in the way dripping into your veins and making you drop your head back. Your thighs begin to shake from where you still have your feet propped up on the counter, spreading you open further.

Jesse has always taken his time with you, steady and focused and knowing exactly what to do to have you unraveling in his mouth. He gathers the wetness increasingly dripping from your entrance, tasting you and groaning, spurring him on even further to press his face harder against your cunt. His strong nose prods at your clit and it has you choking on a gasp as heat begins to curl up your spine.

He traces along your folds with a firm tongue, the lewd noises from his mouth on you filling your ears, before circling deliberately around your clit.

Your mouth drops open, eyes rolling back, and you blame the fact that it’s been way too long since you’ve had his mouth on you for the way your orgasm rapidly approaches.

“Fuck, Jesse,” you gasp, head lolling over your shoulder as you stare, glassy-eyed, as he meets your gaze from where he’s kneeling in your fucking kitchen with his mouth on your pussy. “I’m—"

He closes his eyes and presses his face further against your core, tongue flicking your clit back and forth at a relentless pace, while one of his hands leaves your thighs to pull your folds apart and circle at your entrance. He immediately pushes it in, easily despite how thick his fingers were due to how slick you were, and the pressure has you letting out a high-pitched whine.

Your thighs were absolutely aching, feet starting to slip from the sweat forming all over your body and getting onto the counter, so you finally let your legs fall forward to place your thighs on his wide shoulders.

Jesse takes it in stride, as he does most things, and begins to suck earnestly at your clit while his finger thrusts into you, working and stretching you open so you were ready for his cock.

The thought of him fucking you, bending you over in the open air of the kitchen, has you squeezing your thighs around Jesse’s head and coming hard into his mouth. You writhe on the counter, hips bucking, but his firm grip on your thigh keeps you steady as he works you through it, tongue gentler as he runs it flat against your clit.

He doesn’t let up, that asshole, when your thighs start twitching around his head from the overstimulation. You let out a strangled noise, brain feeling foggy, as you tug at his hair to pull him up and away from your spent pussy.

When he’s face to face with you, the sight of your slick covering the entire bottom half of his face has you clenching around his finger where he still has it slowly fucking in and out of you. His eyes are tender, if not a little wild, and there’s an unbearably sexy smirk on his swollen lips, his tongue coming out to swipe around his mouth. As if he couldn’t get enough of you.

You’re surging forward, capturing his lips with yours, and the taste of yourself on his tongue has you moaning into his mouth, wrapping your thighs around his hips to pull him closer against you.

He eagerly reciprocates, tongue swiping in your mouth while he ruts against your inner thigh. You could feel the heat of his cock and how hard he was through his jeans, and you’re sure if you looked down, you’d be able to spot where his precum has bled through the fabric.

He begins to trail kisses alongside your jawline until he’s nipping at the spot underneath your ear that has your knees weak. Your own slick on his face, smearing against your cheeks, has your face heating up. “Ready to take my cock, baby?”

“God, yes.” And you’re just about to drop down off the counter so you could bend over and wag your bare ass in his face, before he stops you with a firm hand on your thigh.

Before you could ask him, he’s tugging you forward until your ass was hanging off the counter and begins unbuckling his belt. His eyes find yours, ablaze with hunger, as he rasps in a low voice, “I want to see you.”

Your heart thuds painfully in your chest. You don’t know what to say, what you could say, so you don’t say anything at all and instead lift the hem of your shirt and off, tossing it haphazardly to the floor.

Jesse groans at that, eyes immediately drawn to your breasts and the way your nipples instantly pebble in the cold air. He mutters an expletive before dropping his head to wrap his plush lips around one, as if he couldn’t help himself.

You let out a soft sigh, arousal already starting to flare up so soon after you came in his mouth, and you bring your arms to wrap around his shoulders, your knees to wrap around his waist. He’s so fucking broad, strong, unbearably handsome, yet his warm mouth on you is gentle as he swirls his tongue around your nipple.

He releases your swollen bud with a lewd pop, sitting up straighter so he could lean his forehead against yours as he shoves his jeans and briefs down until they bunch up around his thighs. His cock springs free, slapping against his black shirt and leaving a trail of sticky precum. Your mouth waters when he wraps a hand around the base of his cock, head flushed a pretty pink that was begging to be tasted.

He swipes the head between your folds, smearing his precum around and mixing with your slick that was steadily leaking out of you, before notching at your entrance and glancing up at you. You give him a slight nod, barely a tilt of your chin, and then he’s pushing into you slowly.

The stretch is immediate, his finger thick but not thick enough, and it’s bordering on too much despite how needy you felt, nearly aching for his cock. Your hands grip his shoulders, his muscles tensing a small comfort as he strains not to immediately fuck into you.

“Fuck,” Jesse groans, once he’s buried all the way inside of you. “Been thinking about this pussy all day.”

You let out a pathetic whine, hoping he would get the message you were trying to convey that you were running out of time but also he needed to hurry up and fuck you already.

“I know, I know,” he mutters, tone nearly condescending enough that had you clenching around him. He huffs a laugh at that, a hand coming to rest at the small of your back where the counter was digging into you and hikes your legs up higher on his hips.

The new angle has his cock pushing in deeper, and the low, drawn-out groan that you emit takes you by surprise.

“There she is,” he coos. He draws his hips back, carefully, and then he’s fucking back into you hard, punching a gasp out of your chest.

He finally starts a steady pace, one that has your body nearly going limp in his arms and your eyes rolling back in your head. The flesh of his skin slapping against yours and the lewd noises of your soaked cunt swallowing his cock with each thrust fills your ears, broken with Jesse’s heavy grunts.

You’re not even aware of the depraved sounds you were making—breathy whines and strangled noises each time he plunges into you, filling you up over and over again.

“Fuck, your pussy feels so,” he grinds into you, barely swiveling his hips yet causing you to gasp wetly as your hand comes down to claw at his chest. “Fucking good.”

He shuffles closer to you, his hips flush against the back of your thighs, and you thank God that you conveniently moved into an old house with low counters as he hovers over you, broad and solid.

Jesse’s hair continuously falls into his eyes, causing him to swipe at it several times in annoyance. When you follow his gaze, you notice with a thrill that he’s staring at where your bodies meet, and you don’t blame him.

The sight of his cock, shiny with your slick, as he continued to pump into you, your walls clenching and unclenching with every thrust, was heady. Filthy, even. It has your skin growing hot, pressure tightly building again despite feeling like you didn’t have the brain capacity to come again.

The hem of his shirt flutters in your eyeline and Jesse swiftly tugs at it until the fabric is bunched around underneath his armpits, exposing his abs and the way they flexed every time his hips snapped against you.

You lick your lips as your hand drops from where you were clutching at the fabric of his shirt to skim along his abs, sensing the way his muscles shifted and tightened.

God, was he sexy. Broad chest, strong arms, and a thick cock that he knew how to use that had you nearly drooling every time he walked by? You’re not sure how you got so fucking lucky.

“Always take my cock so good, baby,” he grunts, eyes meeting yours before dropping down to the way your tits were bouncing with each thrust. His free hand comes to grope at one of your breasts, squeezing and thumbing at your nipple, and drinking in the way you arch your back into his touch as best as you could with his other hand still protecting your back.

“Jesse, fuck—” you gasp as he picks up a desperate pace. You could tell he was close, most likely been on the brink as soon as he pushed himself inside of you and felt your walls clench around him, but he was holding back. Waiting for you.

His hand drops from your breast to snake in between your legs, causing your breath to get caught in your chest. The steady amount of slick dripping from you made his thumb glide easily in between your folds before circling precisely around your clit.

It’s nearly instantaneous the way your body locks up, thighs tightening from where they’re still hitched around his hips and your hand stilling where you were lightly tracing the contours of his stomach. Your mouth falls open, eyes glassy as you meet Jesse’s.

He curses and then he’s maneuvering you closer, grabbing a hold of your thighs and pushing them back until your knees were pressed into your chest. If possible, his cock slides in deeper, the weight of him as he hovers you becoming heavier. It’s all so fucking good, you’re nearly dizzy from how fast that familiar tightness begins to coil in the pit of your stomach.

“I always take care of my girl, don’t I, baby?” he pants into your open mouth, face merely inches away from yours. He’s relentless, fucking you and splitting you open over and over, you have no choice but to take it.

“Yes, yes—” you gasp, mind going foggy. Your arms come up to wrap around the back of your knees, hand grasping weakly at his forearm. You were so fucking close.

“That’s it, come on,” he whispers raggedly. The low timbre of his voice, smooth and breathless, and the intensity of his gaze melts into you. “That’s my pretty girl.”

Something cold and sharp was digging into your lower back, and when you blink down, you notice that Jesse’s jeans were still bunched around his thighs. The sight of him still in his clothes while you were completely bare and exposed on your kitchen counter had squeezing your eyes shut, fire burning underneath your skin.

You cry out as your orgasm finally hits you with a particular hard brush of his thumb against your clit. You feel yourself clench around him, causing him to bite out a curse, as your hips stutter against his and your thighs tremble.

That’s all that Jesse needs as his thrusts falter, turning more erratic before he’s burying his face into your neck, jerking forward and coming into you with a low, broken groan. His cock twitches inside of you, making you let out a whimper as you can feel his hot come fill you up and threaten to drip out of your aching pussy.

Both of you lay there for a moment, catching your breaths, before Jesse tilts his head to brush his lips against your jawline. Your hair flutters with every exhale. “Are you okay?”

You nod, still feeling dazed, as your throat swallows from how dry it was. “Never better.”

“Good.” He snakes his arms around you so you’re sitting up alongside him when he leans back, placing you gently until you were sitting with your bare ass on the counter.

When he steps back, hissing as his softening cock slides out of you, you let out a soft moan at the sudden emptiness. He quickly leans over you to grab a fresh dishrag, tenderly cleaning you up before tossing the rag to the side.

When you blink up at him, there’s a slight flush to his neck, sweat gathering at his hairline. He shakes out his hand that was placed behind you, shielding you from the sharp edge of the countertop, and you feel a surge of affection when you notice the red lines adorning the top of his hand.

You take his hand in yours to rub at, the roughness of his skin contrasting against yours. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Jesse leans in, nosing at your hairline before pressing a chaste kiss to your temple. “I said I’d take care of you, didn’t I?”

You flush at the words, feeling a sudden spark of arousal between your thighs.

Jesse feels the way you attempt to clench your thighs together, still on either side of his hips, and he laughs softly. He steps back to get dressed, easily, since he literally only needed to pull up his pants, however you stay rooted to the spot, taking the opportunity to admire him.

When he notices you’re making no move to get dressed, he rolls his eyes fondly. He stretches a hand out to you, helping you jump down from the countertop but also because he knew how weak in the legs you get after he fucks your brains out. And he’s right, as you nearly plant face first onto the floor when your knees buckle as soon as you step down.

Of course he catches you with a hand around your waist, his thick fingers warm against your skin. He tugs you in close, nearly tucking you into his chest, and the fabric of his clothes against your bare skin causes you to shiver. He starts to rub his hand up and down your side, naturally assuming you were cold.

Handsome, strong, protective, and affectionate. You’re going to keep him forever.

“Come on you, I still have to get you something from the mess hall.”

#jesse tlou x reader #jesse x reader #jesse tlou #tlou fic #the last of us fic #jesse tlou x reader smut #jesse tlou smut #mine #jesse tlou fic #jesse tlou x you #tlou jesse #tlou jesse x reader

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itneverendshere · 10 months ago

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played me like a clarinet - rafe cameron (three) - finale

request: "Desperately-on my knees-begging for a ''She's all that'' from 1999, with Popular Rafe x Reader. Ooouff, and you want that soul crushing heartbreak when she finds out about the bet he had made" pairing: rafe x smart!nerdy!reader. warnings: more angst <3; part one here; part two

Staying away from Rafe was hard.

It was hard before you two tried to be friends and it’s even harder now that you gave him the no-contact ultimatum. Everywhere you went, it felt like he was there, even if he wasn’t. It was in the songs that played on the radio, in the way the sun set over the patio near your dorm, in the way his, now yours, shirts still smelled like him.

You missed the late-night conversations, the way he’d laugh at your jokes, and how he could read you better than anyone else. But more than anything, you missed the way he made you feel—even if it wasn’t real at first.

Every time your phone buzzed, you stupidly hoped it was him, even though you knew it wouldn’t be. You’d told him to stop, to leave you alone, and he had respected your boundaries even when it seemed like the last thing he wanted to do. And you’re proud of him for it—for once, he’s doing something right. But you’re mostly proud of yourself too, for sticking to your decision, for not letting him back in so easily.

Still, it doesn’t make it any easier.

You thought giving yourself space would help you move on, help you figure out if you could ever really trust him again. But instead, it just left this space where he used to be. You kept wondering how much of it was real for him—if any of it was. Maybe that’s why staying away felt impossible because a part of you wanted to believe he meant some of it, that his feelings weren’t just part of some game.

You had to draw the line, to protect yourself from getting hurt all over again. And even though it hurt to keep him out, you knew it was the only way you’d figure out what you really wanted, without him clouding your judgment.

You tried to move on.

Slowly, cautiously, you started going on dates—nothing serious, just enough to remind yourself that there were other people out there, that Rafe wasn’t the only guy who could make you laugh or feel special. Every few weeks, you’d let yourself get dressed up, put on a smile, and meet someone new.

The first date was awkward, more like a practice run than anything else. You spent most of it comparing the guy to Rafe, noticing all the little things that didn’t measure up. It wasn’t fair to the guy, but you couldn’t help it. He wasn’t Rafe, and that’s all you could focus on. You ended the night with a polite hug and a promise to text, but you knew you wouldn’t.

The second date was better, but not by much. The guy was nice, made you laugh a few times, but there was no spark, no connection that made you want to see him again. You tried to be present, to give him a chance, but your mind kept drifting back to Rafe, to what he would say or how he would react to something. By the end of the night, you felt more exhausted than excited.

After that, you took a break. It was too soon, you told yourself. You weren’t ready to move on yet, and that was okay.

Some days, you almost reached out to him. You’d pick up your phone, scroll through your messages, and your finger would hover over his name. It would be so easy to send a quick text, something casual, just to see how he was doing. But you never did. You knew that one message could ruinl everything you’d worked so hard to build—the distance, the boundaries, the fragile sense of self you were trying to protect.

Instead, you threw yourself into other things. Classes, the cheer squad, hobbies, anything to keep your mind occupied. You spent more time with friends, even though it was hard not to talk about him. You kept the conversations light, steering away from anything that would bring his name up. You didn’t want to be that person who couldn’t stop talking about their ex, who couldn’t let go, even if that’s exactly how you felt inside.

It helped, sometimes.

For brief moments, you’d find yourself genuinely laughing at a joke or losing yourself in a book or a project. But then something small would happen—a song on the radio, a glimpse of someone who looked like him, or the sound of his name in passing—and it would all come rushing back. It wasn’t fair.

You’d think you’d be used to it by now, but each time it felt like a fresh wound. The memory of his laughter, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the way he always knew just what to say—it was as if he left a ghost behind, haunting every corner of your life. And in those moments when you’d catch yourself smiling or feeling light, it was like a betrayal. How could you allow yourself to feel joy when he wasn’t there to share it?

It was like trying to run from a shadow that moved with you, always there, no matter how fast you tried to go.

Every time you thought about him, about how he had hurt you and how you were struggling to move on, it felt like stabbing at an old wound, hoping it would heal faster if you just made it worse. The reality was that you missed him in ways you weren’t ready to admit.

Running into him was inevitable. Despite your best efforts to avoid the places he might be, your college was too small, too intertwined with memories of him.

The first time you saw him after the ultimatum was at a party you had reluctantly agreed to attend. You spotted him across the room, laughing with his friends, looking just as carefree as ever. Your heart twisted painfully in your chest, and for a moment, you felt stuck to the ground. But then he looked up, his eyes meeting yours, and the smile slipped from his face.

It was a small moment, one that no one else seemed to notice, but it felt like the all the air in your lungs had been sucked out. You forced yourself to look away, to focus on the conversation happening around you, but it was impossible to ignore the feeling of his eyes on you.

The second time was worse.

You were at the grocery store, just trying to get through your day when you turned a corner and nearly collided with him. The shock of seeing him so close, so unexpectedly, made you want to disappear on the spot.

You both mumbled awkward apologies, neither of you really saying anything of substance, just trying to avoid the awkwardness. But then he asked how you were.

“I’m fine,” you replied, too quickly, too sharply. The lie tasted bitter on your tongue.

He nodded, and for a moment, it looked like he wanted to say more, to reach out and touch you, but he didn’t. You both stood there, trapped in a painful silence, before you finally made an excuse and walked away, leaving him standing there in the aisle.

After that, the encounters became more frequent. You saw him at the beach, in coffee shops, passing by on the street. Each time, it was the same—an awkward exchange, a few forced pleasantries, and then a quick retreat. It was like the universe was conspiring against you, refusing to give you the space you so desperately needed.

And each time, it hurt just a little bit more. Seeing him in these mundane, everyday moments, like nothing had changed, made it harder to keep up the distance you’d built. It reminded you of all the times when being around him had felt natural, easy, like he was just supposed to be there.

But the worst part was the way he looked at you. Jessica had told you before. He’d never looked at any girl like that. And you stupidly held onto that tiny hope even if you shouldn’t.

You’d been trying to keep it together all night, but the sight of Jessica and Tyler laughing together, so effortlessly in love, was making you bleed inside. The drinks kept coming, one after another, until the room started to blur around you. You didn’t even notice how much you were drinking—only that it was easier to keep swallowing than to think about Rafe.

But the alcohol wasn’t enough to quiet your thoughts.

Instead, it seemed to amplify them, making everything feel sharper, more painful. Jessica and Tyler’s whispered words of affection, the way his hand rested on her thigh, the way she looked at him with pure adoration—You couldn’t stop thinking about how that should have been you and Rafe.

By the time you realized you were too far gone, it was late. You stumbled as you stood up, the room spinning wildly around you. Someone—Jessica, maybe—asked if you were okay, but their voice was muffled, distant. You tried to nod, to say something reassuring, but your legs buckled beneath you, sending you crashing back into your chair.

"Whoa, easy there," Jessica’s voice was sharper now, filled with concern. She crouched down in front of you, her hands steadying you. “You’re not okay. We need to get you out of here.”

You tried to shake your head, to insist that you were fine, but the words wouldn’t come. The room was tilting, spinning, and you couldn’t focus on anything. Your vision was blurry, your limbs heavy, and you realized, with a sinking feeling, that you were too drunk to take care of yourself. You couldn’t even stand up, let alone make it home.

Panic started to set in. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to lose control like this. You weren’t supposed to need help.

“Jess… I’m fine…” The words slurred out of your mouth, but even you didn’t believe them.

“No, you’re not.” Jessica’s voice was firm now, almost authoritative. She glanced around, clearly trying to figure out what to do. The other girls were watching, their laughter fading into worried murmurs, “Baby, can you go and get her some water and sugar, please?”

She gently guided you to lean back, her hand on your shoulder to steady you. You tried to focus, tried to push through the fog in your mind, but everything was slipping away, your thoughts swirling together in a jumbled mess.

“Hey, stay with me, okay?” Her voice was softer now, almost pleading. She wasn’t just a concerned friend at this moment; she was scared. You’d never seen her like this before.

“I—” You started, but the words tangled in your throat. You wanted to tell her that you were sorry, that you didn’t mean to ruin the night, that you just wanted to stop thinking about him for a couple of hours, but all that came out was a garbled sound that barely resembled a word.

“Shh, it’s okay,” she soothed, her thumb brushing lightly against your arm. “We’ll get you out of here. It’s gonna be okay.”

Tyler returned with the water and sugar, and Jessica took the glass, trying to get you to drink. The water felt cool against your lips, but swallowing was harder than it should’ve been. You could feel yourself teetering on the edge of consciousness.

“Come on, just a little more,” Jessica urged. You managed a few more sips before the glass slipped from your grasp, water sloshing onto your lap.

“Jess, I—” You tried again, but before you could finish, you heard another voice, one that sent a jolt through your foggy mind.

He was there, right in front of you, and you knew it was him without needing to open your eyes.

“Jesus Christ,” you heard him mutter. He crouched down, gently lifting your chin so you were forced to meet his eyes. “What the hell happened?”

“She had too much to drink,” Jessica explained quickly, her tone defensive, as if she expected him to start blaming her. “We were just about to get her out of here.”

You tried to smile, to play it off like it was no big deal, but all that came out was a shaky breath. “Too much… too much, Rafe…”

“I can see that,” he said, his tone softening as he brushed a strand of hair from your face. He turned to Jessica, his voice all business now.

You didn’t know how long he had been standing there. Was your brain torturing you? Making you believe he was there?

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he knelt down beside you, his hands grabbing your trembling ones. “Hey,” he said, his voice softer now, as if he was afraid you might break into pieces if he spoke too loudly. “I’m gonna get you home, okay?”

You wanted to say no, to tell him that you didn’t need him, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you just nodded, too tired and too dizzy to fight it.

He exchanged a look with Jessica and she sighed, her worry morphing into something closer to relief. “I’ll help you get her to the car.”

Your legs were useless, and you sagged heavily against his chest. He didn’t hesitate, scooping you up in his arms like you weighed nothing, cradling you against him. His scent surrounded you, familiar and comforting, and despite everything, you found yourself leaning into him, letting your head rest against his shoulder.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his breath warm against your temple. “I’m gonna get you out of here, okay?”

You nodded weakly, too exhausted to argue. Your eyes fluttered shut as he carried you out, the sounds of the party fading away behind you.

The ride to your dorm was a blur.

You were vaguely aware of Rafe’s arm around you, of Jessica sitting on your other side, rubbing your back in small circles. The motion of the car made your stomach churn, and you had to close your eyes to keep from getting sick. Uber or not, you weren’t about to ruin someone else’s car.

When you finally arrived, he practically carried you inside while Jess fumbled with your keys before pushing the door open.

He led you to your bed, easing you down onto the mattress.

“I’ll stay with her,” he muttered, his voice leaving no room for argument. Jessica hesitated, looking between the two of you, before nodding slowly.

“Call me if you need anything,” she said to Rafe, squeezing his arm before she left.

You were barely aware of her leaving, still too drunk to process much of anything. He knelt down beside your bed, brushing a stray hair from your face.

“You’re gonna be okay,” he murmured, his voice a soothing lullaby.

You wanted to say something, to tell him that you didn’t need him, that you were fine on your own.

You felt your bottom lip tremble.

He noticed the change immediately, his blue eyes softening as he continued to gently brush the hair from your face. “Hey, it’s okay,” he whispered, his thumb lightly tracing the curve of your jaw. “Just breathe.”

But that only made it worse. You could feel the tears welling up as you realized just how much you’d missed this—missed him. The safety of his presence, the way he always seemed to know what you needed before you did.

Your stomach churned, the nausea that had been building since you first sat in the car finally reaching a breaking point.

“Rafe,” you mumbled, your voice weak and shaky, “I think I’m gonna—”

He reacted instantly, his arms tightening around you as he quickly looked the room. “Okay, okay, just breathe,” he said, “You’re gonn be fine.”

But breathing was the last thing on your mind as the room started spinning faster. You tried to push away from him, your hand gripping his shirt as you fought to keep it down.

“Rafe, I need to throw up,” you managed to gasp, panic rising in your chest.

He didn’t hesitate, scooping you up from the bed and hurrying toward the bathroom. You barely registered the fact he was touching you again after so long, your mind solely focused on the nausea.

He got you to the bathroom just in time, guiding you to the toilet as you collapsed in front of it. He held your hair back with one hand, the other rubbing soothing circles on your back as you retched, the sound of it echoing harshly in the small space.

“It’s okay, I’m right here,” he murmured, grounding you as you emptied your stomach. You could feel the heat of his hand on your back, the gentle way he kept your hair out of the way.

When it was over, you slumped against the cool porcelain, too exhausted to care about anything other than the relief of having the nausea finally subside. Rafe handed you a damp washcloth, and you pressed it against your face, the coolness soothing against your overheated skin.

“Better?” he asked softly, crouching down beside you.

You nodded weakly, unable to meet his eyes. “Yeah,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. “Thanks.”

He didn’t say anything, just stayed close, while you avoided his gaze entirely. The room was quiet now, the only sound the slow, steady rhythm of your breathing as you tried to regain some control.

“I’m sorry.”

You felt embarrassed, and vulnerable in a way you hadn’t expected, and you hated every second of it.

“Stop apologizing,” Rafe said gently, his hand still resting on your back.

“Can you… can you stay over?”

You didn’t want to be alone, not tonight, not with the way your heart was aching.

Rafe’s eyes softened, the way they did only for you, and for a moment, you thought he might agree, that he might stay and help you forget, even just for a little while.

But then he shook his head, his expression pained.

“I can’t,” he said, his voice strained, like it hurt him to say it. “You know I can’t, sweets.”

You tried to hold it together, but it was no use. Before you could stop yourself, you were crying—quiet, heartbreaking sobs that you couldn’t control.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as he reached out, brushing the tears from your cheeks, but it only made you cry harder. “I’m so sorry.”

You couldn’t even respond, the words tangled up in your throat. It wasn’t just that he wouldn’t stay; it was everything—the confusion, the heartbreak, the way you felt like you were losing him all over again, even though he was right there in front of you.

“Please don’t cry,” Rafe pleaded, his voice breaking. He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against him. “I hate seeing you like this.”

You buried your face in his chest, the sobs shaking your entire body. The warmth of his touch, the familiar scent of him—it was too much, too close to everything you’d been trying to avoid. But you couldn’t pull away. You didn’t want to.

“I just… I just miss you,” you choked out, the words spilling from you in a broken whisper. “I miss you so much, Rafe.”

“I know,” he murmured, his voice cracking. “I miss you too.”

You clung to him, your fingers gripping his shirt like it was the only thing keeping him from disappearing. The tears wouldn’t stop, and neither would the ache in your chest, the one that had been there ever since you’d forced yourself to let him go.

“I wish things were different,” his usually bright eyes were dimmed, his brows drew together as if he was in pain. He looked at you like he was memorizing every detail, like he was afraid this might be the last time, “I keep hurting you.”

His hands trembled slightly as he pulled back just enough to look at you, his touch gentle as his fingers cradled your face. His thumbs brushed away the tears again, but they kept coming, fresh and spilling over. His lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but all that came out was a ragged breath.

“Please don’t hate me more for this,” he whispered, his voice rough, barely holding back. His eyes searched yours, desperate for reassurance, for something to cling to in this moment that felt like it was tearing you both apart.

“I could never hate you,” you whispered back, the words catching in your throat as the tears continued to fall. It hurt to say it, to admit it out loud.

He left that night.

You had almost convinced yourself that it was better this way, that moving on, that he did you a favor that night by leaving, that keeping him out of your life was the only solution.

Staying away from you was killing him.

⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ

Rafe spent his days trying to distract himself, throwing himself into his studies for the first time in his life, into parties, into anything that would take his mind off you.

But nothing worked. Every time he saw something that reminded him of you, it was like a punch to the gut—a song you liked, a place you used to go together, even the smell of the ocean would bring memories crashing back. He missed you so much it hurt.

And when he saw you, it was even worse. The first time he ran into you after the break, it felt like the world had stopped spinning. He was at a party, trying to forget, trying to lose himself in the noise and the crowd, when he saw you across the room. For a moment, he thought he was imagining it, that his mind was playing tricks on him. But then your eyes met his, and his heart almost stopped.

You were as beautiful as ever, maybe even more so, but there was something different about you—something guarded, distant. But before he could even think about crossing the room to talk to you, you looked away, your expression closing off, leaving him standing there like an idiot, staring after you.

He’d told you he’d wait for you and he intended on keeping that promise. He couldn’t stop imagining what it would be like to have you back, to hold you, to tell you how much he loved you, how sorry he was. He’d never felt this way about anyone before, never been this wrecked over a girl, but you weren’t just any girl.

Rafe had never been good at groveling, at admitting he was wrong, but for you, he’d do anything. He’d get on his knees and beg if that’s what it took. He didn’t care about his pride anymore, not when it meant losing you. He was willing to do whatever it took to make things right, to prove to you that he was serious, that he loved you more than he ever thought possible.

But every time he saw you, he felt that hope slipping further away. The look in your eyes, the way you avoided him, it all felt like a final nail in the coffin. And yet, he couldn’t let go, couldn’t stop himself from yearning for you, from wanting you back in his life. He was going out of his mind, torn between respecting your wishes and fighting for you with everything he had.

Rafe knew he had to do something different, something that would show you just how much he had changed. The problem was, he didn't know what that was. He needed to find a way to prove to you that he was serious, that he was willing to put in the work to make things right.

So he started small.

He stopped going to parties, and stopped trying to drown out his feelings in distractions. Instead, he focused on becoming the person he thought you deserved—the person he knew he could be if he just tried. He started paying more attention in class, showing up on time, and actually studying. He even started volunteering, something he’d never done before, just to keep his mind occupied with something productive, something that wasn’t about him for once.

But the real change came when he began working on himself. He started seeing a therapist, something he’d always scoffed at before. He had a lot of baggage, a lot of unresolved issues that had driven him to hurt you in the first place, and he knew he needed to work through them if he ever wanted to be good enough for you.

It wasn’t easy. Therapy forced him to confront things he’d buried deep, things he’d avoided dealing with for years. Family trauma and all. But he stuck with it, because he knew it was the only way to get better, to be the kind of man you could trust again.

Slowly, he started to see changes in himself. He was more patient, more understanding, and more aware of how his actions affected others. He didn’t expect you to notice any of it—he was doing it for himself as much as for you—but he hoped that maybe, just maybe, you’d see that he was trying.

And then he had to pick you up that night.

He had never seen you drunk before, you’d always preferred your fruity punch over any other alcoholic drink. He’d always known you as strong, independent, someone who could hold your own. Seeing you like that—broken, hurting—made something in him snap. Was this his fault? Had he done this to you?

He knew he couldn’t stay that night. As much as it killed him to leave, he understood that this was part of growing too—the part where he learned to respect your boundaries, to give you space even when all he wanted was to hold you and never let go. You’d hate yourself the next day. He was doing you both a favor.

The next morning, Rafe didn’t text or call. He wanted to give you time, to process everything without the pressure of him hovering. Instead, he threw himself back into his routine, keeping himself busy but always with you at the back of his mind. He wondered if you remembered anything from the night before—how close he’d come to breaking down when you asked him to stay, how it had taken every ounce of self-control to walk away from you again.

Days passed, and he didn’t hear from you. It felt like a new kind of torture, but he stayed strong, if this was part of the process then so be it, he needed to be patient.

He didn’t want to push you, didn’t want to make you feel like you owed him anything. But he couldn’t stop hoping that maybe, just maybe, you were thinking about him too.

So when the call came that you were in the hospital, his heart nearly fell through his ass. He didn’t think, didn’t hesitate—he just went.

The thought of you being hurt, of something happening to you, was enough to make him speed over the legal limit. He needed to see you, to make sure you were okay, even if it was the last thing he did.

When he got there, his heart clenched tightly in his chest as he pushed through the doors of the hospital. He hated hospitals, hated everything about them—the smell, the sterile white walls. But none of that mattered now. All he could think about was you.

The nurse at the front desk directed him to your room, and he practically sprinted down the hallway, his mind racing with a thousand worst-case scenarios. He’d been too fucking anxious to ask if you were okay, as soon as your name and the word hospital registered, he was rushing over. When he finally reached your door, he paused, his hand hovering over the doorknob. What if you didn’t want to see him? What if you told him to leave?

But then he heard your pretty voice, soft and familiar. He pushed open the door and there you were, sitting up in the hospital bed with a sprained ankle, looking more frustrated than hurt. He breathed out in relief, so intensely it made his knees weak.

“Rafe?” you blurted out, your eyes widening in surprise as you saw him standing there. “What are you doing here?”

He took a step closer, “They called me. I’m still your emergency contact.”

“Oh,” you muttered, looking down at your hands. “I didn’t realize.”

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, but he could see the tension in your shoulders, the way you were trying to hold it together. “It’s just a sprained ankle. Nothing serious. Did a little too much during practice."

Rafe nodded, but he didn’t move, didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. The sight of you in that hospital bed, even for something as minor as a sprained ankle killed him.

“Hey,” you said softly, your voice pulling him out of his thoughts. “You don’t have to stay. I’m fine. Really.”

But he couldn’t leave. Not now, not when you were right in front of him, looking so small and vulnerable. He shook his head, his voice coming out rougher than before, “I’m not leaving.”

You blinked up at him, “But you don’t have to—”

“I’m not leaving,” he repeated, his voice firm. “I know you can handle yourself, but I’m staying.”

Surprisingly, you didn’t kick him out. “Okay.”

He pulled up a chair beside your bed, settling in like he had no intention of going anywhere. The room was quiet, the only sound the faint beeping of the machines and the murmur of voices from the hallway outside. For a moment, neither of you said anything. It was strange, being this close yet so far away from you. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, taking in the way yours had softened, the way the lines of worry on your face were starting to smooth out. You looked tired like you’d been lacking sleep. He wished he could help, even if just for a little while.

“You know,” he said quietly, breaking the silence, “I used to think I was pretty good at taking care of myself. But then I met you, and I realized I’d never really let anyone take care of me before. Not like you did.”

“Rafe—”

“No, let me finish,” he interrupted gently, “I’m still here. I’ll always be here, even if all I can do is sit in a hospital room with you and make sure you’re okay.”

You looked down at your hands, a small, sad smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“I missed you,” you whispered, the words so quiet he almost didn’t hear them.

His breath caught in his throat, his heart squeezing painfully at the admission. “I missed you too,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion.

“Thank you for that night.”

He shifted slightly in his chair, leaning a little closer, careful not to overwhelm you but needing to be nearer all the same.

“I didn’t do anything special,” he murmured, though his mind replayed the events of that night. The helplessness he’d felt seeing you in that state, knowing there was little he could do to make it better. He hadn’t been sure then if you’d even wanted him there, but he’d helped you anyway. He couldn’t leave you, not when you needed someone—when you needed him.

“You were there,” a tear slipped down your cheek, and he instinctively reached out, his thumb gently wiping it away. The touch was soft, almost reverent, and it made your breath get stuck in your throat. “That’s more than enough.”

You leaned into his touch for a moment, savoring the comfort it brought, even though it hurt to let yourself feel it, “Just glad you’re safe.”

“Why did you come?”

“Because I love you,” he admitted, tired of carrying the truth inside him, “I know I screwed up—God, I know that. But I’ve spent every day since trying to be better, trying to be the kind of man you deserve. And I know I have a long way to go, but I’m not giving up. Not on you. Not unless you ask me to.”

“You love me?”

Your voice sounded so meek, so unsure it made him want to punch himself in the face. This was entirely his doing.

He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. He looked nervous, and vulnerable, “Yeah,” he said, “I do. I’m in love with you, I just—” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “I didn’t know how to say it, or maybe I was too scared to. Didn’t want to make you think I was saying it to save my ass, y’know?”

You’d always wondered what it would be like to hear those words from him, to have him admit that he cared for you in the same way you cared for him.

“I didn’t want to push you,” he continued, fingers intertwined, “But I couldn’t keep it in anymore. I couldn’t let you think that I didn’t care, that I didn’t want this, want you.”

You blinked, trying to process everything he was saying. This was the Rafe you’d always hoped for—the one who was honest and unafraid to show his emotions. But it was also the Rafe who had hurt you, who had made mistakes that left scars you weren’t sure had fully healed.

“Rafe, I—” you started, but the words caught in your throat.

“You don’t have to say it, sweets. It’s okay.”

“I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice shaking. “I’m scared of getting hurt again, of going back to that place where everything fell apart.”

He had changed—you could see it in the way he carried himself, in the way he spoke to you. He wasn’t the same Rafe who had hurt you.

"I’m not asking you to trust me right away," he continued, though there was a hint of desperation in it. "I know I need to earn that. But please, give me a chance to prove it. I don’t want to lose you again."

"You can’t wait for me forever.”

“I’d wait for you a lifetime. I told you,” His jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tensing when he spoke, as if he was trying not to cry, “If you ever want me, I’m yours.”

His hands, usually so restless, were still now, resting on his knees as he leaned slightly forward in his chair. You saw the man he was trying to be—the man he wanted to be for you. He wasn’t perfect, not by a long shot, but he was trying. And that had to count for something.

“Even if I made you wait until we’re eighty and grey?”

Rafe let out a breathless laugh, the sound strained but genuine, “Even then,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. “You’re it for me.”

It scared you how much you wanted to believe him, how much you wanted to pull him into your arms and tell him that he was it for you too. He reached out, his hand hovering near yours, waiting for you to close the distance. You hesitated for only a moment before your fingers intertwined with his. It felt right, like coming home after being lost for so long.

He squeezed your hand gently, his eyes searching yours for any sign of what you were thinking, feeling. He looked like he was holding his breath.

“I love you too.”

It was still scary, still uncertain, but you realized that nothing worth having ever came easy. And Rafe, with all his flaws and all his efforts to be better, was worth it.

He exhaled, his shoulders sagging in relief, “I don’t deserve you,” he said whispered, lips pressed against your fingers, “But I’m going to spend every day trying to. I swear, I’ll never stop trying.”

You closed your eyes, “You’re gonna make me cry.”

Rafe’s grip on your hand tightened, as if he could physically hold you together through sheer will alone. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” he started, his voice panicked, but you shook your head, cutting him off.

“No, it’s okay,” you whispered, opening your eyes to meet his. “I just… it’s been a long time since I let myself feel this way.”

He nodded, his thumb gently brushing against the back of your hand in slow, soothing circles. “You don’t have to hold back with me. Not anymore. Whatever you’re feeling, it’s okay.”

The tears you’d been holding back spilled over, running down your cheeks. Rafe was there instantly, his other hand reaching up to gently cup your face, his thumb brushing away the tears with a tenderness that made your heart hurt.

“I’m so sorry,” his voice cracked, “For everything I put you through.”

You leaned into his touch, the warmth of his hand grounding you, giving you the strength to keep going. “I was so miserable Rafe,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “Scared that if I let you back in, I’d get hurt again. Scared that I’d lose you all over again.”

“I know,” he said, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the small space between you. “And I promise you, I’m not going anywhere this time. I’m here, and I’m not going to let you down.”

“I want to try.”

Rafe’s breath hitched, and he pulled back slightly to look at you, his eyes searching yours as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You do?”

You nodded, a small, tentative smile forming on your lips. “I do. But we need to take it slow, okay? I need time.”

“Of course,” he said quickly, his eyes bright with hope. “We’ll go as slow as you need. I don’t fucking care sweets, I’m not leaving.”

You weren’t just giving him another chance—you were giving yourself one too. A chance to heal, to forgive, and to find your way back to each other.

Rafe pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, lingering for a moment as if sealing the promise between you. “We’ve got this,” he murmured against your skin. “It’s you and me, okay?”

“You and me.”

Rafe’s eyes softened, and a genuine smile tugged at his lips, one that reached his eyes and made them crinkle at the corners. It was a smile you hadn’t seen in a long time, and seeing it made you want to bawl all over again. His hand cradled your cheek, his fingers tracing delicate circles on your jaw as his eyes locked onto yours, silently asking for permission, for forgiveness, for a chance to be close to you again. And when his lips finally brushed against yours, whatever pain you were feeling on your ankle disappeared.

The kiss was soft, tentative at first, like he was afraid you might pull away, afraid to push too far too soon. But the moment your lips pressed back against his, that tentative touch deepened. Rafe’s hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t stand to be apart from you even for a second. You could feel the desperation in the way his lips moved against yours, the way his breath hitched when you parted your lips to let him in.

Just as you were about to lose yourself in him, the door to your room swung open with a creak. You both froze, lips still touching, as someone cleared their throat.

You pulled away from each other reluctantly, your cheeks flushed, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Your eyes met Rafe’s and you saw the same blush of color on his face, the same love-sick expression that you were sure mirrored your own.

The doctor stood in the doorway, a clipboard in hand, a bemused smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Well, I see you’re feeling better.”

Rafe cleared his throat, stepping back slightly, his hand still lingering on your arm as if he couldn’t bring himself to let go just yet. “Uh, yeah, she’s doing great,” he mumbled.

“You must be the boyfriend.”

You couldn’t help the grin that took over, “Yeah. He is.”

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron angst #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe angst #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron fluff #rafe fic #rafe cameron au #rafe cameron imagines #requested #angst with a happy ending #light angst #fluff #rafe cameron fic

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womanofwords · 3 months ago

Text

Everybody's Favourite (Part 4)

The more the rogues' gallery learns about your treatment at the hands of your family, the more they dislike the Waynes. "I honestly think I misjudged my friend Bruce," Two-Face said. "He really let that happen?"

"I have the scars to prove it," you said, rolling up your sleeves to show everyone the bite marks left on their arms. "Damian wanted me to help test Titus' abilities by giving him a target. Well, I was the target."

"Well, I'll have to re-evaluate my policy on hurting children," Riddler said.

"What. The. Hell?!" Ivy's anger was palpable. "This little sweetheart has been theirs for over ten years, and they can't even bother to pay a simple ransom?!"

"They seem about as delightful as gum on a shoe," Joker said. "If you need a certain mansion blown to pieces, say the word."

You whimpered at the thought of such violence, clutching a throw pillow for comfort. "I don't want them to be injured or killed. I want distance from all of them, metaphorical and literal. I don't want to see them again."

"Such a precious gem," Harley sniffed.

"And a terrific businessperson," Oswald said. "Designed an ice cream franchise with me in less than a week. The kid'll go far."

"Honestly, I don't want them to go," Riddler said.

"I don't want to go! I like it here!" you said.

"Great!" Joker clapped his hands with glee. "Because if you're staying, then we'll need to put a few things on the agenda. Like self-defence. Bane and Selina can teach you all about that."

You gasped with joy. "So I can kick butt while wearing heels?"

"Of course, kitten," Selina cooed.

"You shall have all the resources you need," Bane rumbled. "I'll even let you use Venom."

"NO!" everyone yelled.

"As a psychology professor, they will not even look at your patented steroid," Crane scolded.

"You dose people with fear gas, and steroids is where you draw the line?" Bane scoffed.

"Yes! Why would I want to tamper with Y/N's sweet disposition with nasty roid rage?"

"It'll ruin them, Bane. You might want a sparring partner, but I will lose a business partner," Penguin said. "An incredibly smart one, if I might add."

"Really? Me?" you spluttered.

"Oh, little dove, who else could I be speaking about?" Penguin retorted. You squeaked and hugged the pillow tighter. "Oh, little dove, I was just complimenting you, I promise! I didn't mean to fluster you!"

"Normally, the only people who call me smart are my teachers," you admit. "My folks barely notice my grades or skills."

"Well, it would be a shame to let that go to waste. You must have worked hard to obtain them." Penguin paused to adjust his monocle. "Now, how about we get you a nice new routine to help you settle into your new home?"

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4 <- You are here

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Taglist: @tinybrie, @enchantingarcadecreation, @hopingtoclearmedschool, @sh4rk-k1d, @prorpy, angelicbear, @sulleha, @sirenetheblogger

#creative writing #my writing #writing inspiration #writers #writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #yandere #platonic yandere #yandere batfam #batfam

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lanadelspray02 · 15 days ago

Text

HOLD ME ANYWAY: CHAPTER 20

paige x azzi

Hey guys, I'm sorry it took me a while to get this out. I honestly had a hard week, and I have sort of been spiralling a bit :/ I don't really like talking about my mental health, but I do suffer from depression, and I'm in a funk I can't seem to get out of. So, I guess this is me trying to be brave and say that if you ever need to talk to someone, don't be afraid to reach out <3 i know how hard it can be to ask for help but maybe we can help each other out!

Now, on another happier note, enjoy this chapter. Sorry, it's not the best, but the next chapter will definitely be better! <3

crossposted ao3 here

masterlist here

wc: 9254

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

Tuesday Afternoon

Azzi hadn’t expected the knock at the door.

She’d just finished rinsing lunch plates, sleeves still damp, her brain still cycling through the same quiet swirl of thoughts that had followed her around all morning. Ruby was in the living room, legs splayed on the rug, Sparklehorn tucked under one arm while she coloured with deep, determined scribbles.

Azzi turned off the faucet and wiped her hands on a dish towel. Another knock came, louder this time, followed by a familiar voice.

“It’s us! We come in peace! But with snacks!”

Azzi furrowed her brows and stepped to the door. When she opened it, she found Caroline and Ines standing on the front step like they’d just wandered out of a sitcom. Caroline was holding a bag of chips, Ines had a shoebox stuffed with markers and glue sticks, and both of them were smiling like this was the most normal thing in the world.

“Hi,” Caroline said. “We brought art therapy.”

“And sugar,” Ines added. “One for your heart, one for your bloodstream.”

Azzi blinked. “You guys didn’t have to—”

“Exactly why we did,” Caroline said, brushing past her and into the house like she’d lived there all her life. “We figured you might be having a rough week, so we’re here to play backup.”

Ines followed, giving Azzi’s shoulder a soft squeeze as she passed. “We missed you. And Ruby. And Sparklehorn. Mostly Sparklehorn.”

“I’m… fine,” Azzi said, shutting the door slowly behind them.

“You’re allowed to not be fine,” Caroline called over her shoulder. “But either way, you’re stuck with us now.”

They reached the living room just as Ruby looked up from her spot on the floor.

She gasped like she was seeing celebrities. “Ines! Caroline!”

Ines dropped to her knees and held out her arms. “There’s our girl!”

Ruby sprinted across the rug and launched herself into a hug. “You came to my house!”

“We brought royal supplies,” Caroline said, kneeling down and flipping open the art box. “Paint pens. Glitter glue. Foam stickers shaped like cupcakes.”

Ruby’s eyes went wide. “This is the best day ever.”

Azzi lingered at the edge of the room, watching as Ruby immediately took charge. Within thirty seconds, she had Ines sorting markers by color, Caroline unrolling sheets of butcher paper, and Sparklehorn seated regally atop a folded towel throne.

“This one’s the dragon,” Ruby explained, holding up a picture with swirls of fire. “And this one’s Team Sparklehorn. It’s Mama and Paigey and me. And Sparklehorn’s our captain.”

“Obviously,” Ines said, very seriously.

“I want to draw a castle,” Ruby announced. “But you have to help me.”

“Absolutely,” Caroline said, already grabbing crayons.

As Ruby handed out assignments, she paused mid-command and looked between them thoughtfully. “Hey. What do I call you?”

Caroline blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Like… I call Paige “Paigey”, and Mama is Mama. But what do you want to be?”

Ines smiled gently. “What do you want to call us?”

Ruby thought for a second, tapping her chin with a glitter pen. “Can I call you Aunty Ines?”

Ines lit up. “I would love that.”

“And Aunty Caroline?” Ruby asked shyly, turning to her.

Caroline’s voice softened. “That might be the best title I’ve ever gotten.”

Ruby beamed, clearly pleased with herself, and leaned back into Ines’s side. “Okay. Aunty Ines and Aunty Caroline. You’re on my team now.”

Caroline bumped her shoulder gently. “We’ve always been on your team, squirt.”

“Team Sparklehorn forever,” Ruby declared, raising a marker like a sword.

Azzi sat on the couch, arms crossed over her stomach, trying not to smile too much. But she couldn’t help it. Watching them, Ruby so at ease, Caroline and Ines folding into her world like they’d always belonged—it filled some aching part of her chest that had been too tight for days.

At one point, Ruby crawled over and leaned back against her legs. “Mama, look! Aunty Ines is making Sparklehorn a crown!”

“I see that,” Azzi murmured, gently brushing a hand through her curls. “It looks perfect.”

“And Aunty Caroline is doing her makeup.”

Caroline held up a glitter sticker and stuck it to Sparklehorn’s cheek. “It’s a bold but classy look.”

Ruby giggled and twisted around so she was sitting between Azzi’s knees. “You can colour too, Mama.”

Azzi looked down at her, then at the pile of markers, then at Caroline’s glittered nose, and finally—finally—let out a quiet laugh.

“Alright. What’s my assignment?”

Ruby handed her a sheet of paper. “Draw the heart castle.”

Azzi took the paper and settled back. “Got it.”

And as the living room buzzed with colouring and tiny voices and bits of chaos, something in her chest unknotted. Just a little. Just enough.

She wasn't alone.

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

The front door creaked open just after three.

Paige stepped inside quietly, easing the door shut behind her as she shrugged her backpack off one shoulder. She looked tired in the effortless, end-of-day kind of way — her UConn hoodie rumpled, sweatpants loose at the waist, hair twisted up in a messy knot like she’d barely managed it between class and the drive over.

She was still adjusting to the sudden shift in temperature when she heard it — the thundering of small feet, the sharp patter of excitement racing down the hallway.

“Paigey!”

A blur of rainbow leggings and wild curls launched itself across the living room. Ruby hit full speed as she rounded the corner, Sparklehorn bouncing against her side with each stride.

Paige dropped her bag without hesitation and opened her arms just in time to catch her. Ruby flung herself into the embrace, and Paige lifted her easily, laughing as she spun them both around once, then again, until Ruby squealed. Sparklehorn nearly slipped from her grasp mid-spin, but Ruby clung tighter, breathless and glowing.

“There’s my girl,” Paige said warmly, adjusting her hold and nuzzling her cheek. “Were you painting the whole house again, or just this room?”

“No,” Ruby giggled breathlessly. “We’re saving the rainbow castle. Aunty Ines is helping me make sparkle bombs.”

“Obviously,” Paige murmured with a grin, eyes drifting across the room as she shifted Ruby in her arms.

And then she saw her.

Azzi was sitting on the couch, one leg tucked beneath her, posture relaxed but gaze alert and the moment their eyes met, Paige forgot everything else.

She forgot about the art supplies on the floor, the marker-streaked coffee table, even Ruby still chattering in her arms. Her entire body stilled, drawn magnetically to the warmth blooming in Azzi’s face — the soft, caught smile, the subtle reach of her fingers toward the sleeve of her sweater like she always did when Paige looked at her too long.

Caroline glanced up from where she was laying out construction paper on the rug. She followed Paige’s gaze, then bumped her knee gently into Ines. “There it is,” she murmured under her breath.

Ines smirked. “They don’t even know we’re here anymore.”

Ruby tilted her head, eyes flicking between Paige and the couch. “Paigey, are you frozen?”

Paige blinked and smiled again, pulling herself back to the room. “Nope. Just... absorbing the scene.”

She set Ruby down gently, smoothing her hair and brushing a little glitter off her cheek. “Looks like y’all started without me.”

“Art waits for no one,” Caroline said sweetly, her nose dotted with a smear of silver paint. “We’ve turned your girlfriend's living room into a national monument.”

“We’re making Sparklehorn a wedding dress,” Ines added, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “There’s a lot of tulle involved.”

Ruby darted back to the floor, immediately climbing into Ines’s lap like she belonged there. “She’s marrying Kelvin. He’s a dragon with a secret lab.”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like high-stakes.”

Still smiling, she crossed the room toward Azzi without breaking stride. She sat down beside her on the couch and leaned in without preamble, brushing a kiss to her lips — soft, casual, lingering just long enough to draw a quiet hitch of breath from Azzi’s chest.

Azzi blinked up at her, dazed but smiling. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Paige whispered back. Her hand found Azzi’s knee, thumb brushing absent circles over the fabric of her jeans. “You good?”

Azzi nodded. “They just showed up.”

“I love them for that,” Paige murmured, glancing toward the art chaos on the floor.

Azzi let out a small breath. “I kinda do too.”

They sat like that for a moment — close, steady, with the kind of quiet that didn’t need filling. Paige tilted her body slightly so her shoulder touched Azzi’s, letting herself settle into the warmth of her without pulling focus from the rest of the room.

Across the living room, Caroline pretended to cough. “We can leave if you need the couch.”

Ines didn’t look up from her glitter scissors. “Yeah, we’ve got a backyard full of chalk and zero supervision.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, biting back a laugh. “We’re fine right here.”

Paige didn’t even blink. “Public space,” she called over. “Completely neutral territory.”

“Neutral,” Ines repeated, amused. “Sure. Except for the way you were looking at her like she’s the sun.”

Paige shrugged. “She is.”

Azzi’s cheeks flushed a deeper pink, and she ducked her head slightly but she didn’t pull away. If anything, she leaned closer. Paige took that as her win.

They sat like that for another few seconds before Ruby piped up again from the floor.

“Okay! Now we need flower petals for the aisle, and Sparklehorn says the dress has to have diamonds!”

“Coming right up,” Ines said, handing her a sheet of glitter stickers.

As Ruby resumed her royal planning, the room filled with movement and colour again, but Paige and Azzi stayed quietly nestled on the couch, just out of reach but entirely present.

No one said it, but everyone felt it: the ease was back.

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

By the time Ruby declared that Sparklehorn’s wedding crown was complete, there were five different kinds of glitter embedded into the living room carpet. The coffee table was buried in markers, glue sticks, and paper scraps. The couch pillows had been rearranged into a “royal observation tower,” and someone, probably Caroline, had stuck two rhinestones to Sparklehorn’s horn like earrings.

Caroline stood, stretching her arms overhead. “Alright, tiny queen. I think Sparklehorn’s ready for her bachelorette weekend.”

Ruby giggled, adjusting the purple scarf tied around Sparklehorn’s neck. “She says thank you for your service.”

“You’re welcome,” Ines replied, giving a dramatic little bow before gently nudging Ruby’s elbow. “You wanna show us your chalk dragon out back before it gets dark?”

Ruby gasped, suddenly remembering the half-finished mural she’d started earlier that morning. “Yes! I need to finish the wings!”

She turned toward the couch, Sparklehorn tucked under her arm like a purse. “Mama, Paigey, we’ll be outside, ‘kay?”

Azzi nodded, brushing a curl back from her face. “Just stay where we can see you from the window.”

Caroline tossed her hoodie on and reached for the back door. “We’ve got her. Come on, Sparklehorn security detail.”

The three of them stepped out into the backyard, their laughter following them through the screen door. Paige watched until it latched behind them, then turned her gaze back to the room. The moment felt quiet now, a different kind of stillness, not heavy like the silence from earlier in the week, but soft. Safe.

She rose from the couch and offered her hand. “Come on. Let’s clean up the glitter apocalypse.”

Azzi groaned quietly but took it. “You know Sparklehorn’s probably shedding rhinestones into the furniture now.”

“I’m choosing not to think about it.”

They started on the living room together, moving around each other with a kind of ease that didn’t need direction. Paige collected crumpled drawings and scraps of gluey paper from under the table while Azzi uncapped markers and dropped them into a lopsided mason jar. Every so often their hands would brush — brief, quiet touches that lingered longer than they needed to.

Azzi knelt to pick a foam star out of the rug, her fingers brushing glitter off the hem of her jeans. “They’ve been good for her,” she said quietly, eyes focused on the floor. “Caroline and Ines. It’s like… she doesn’t even hesitate around them.”

“She trusts them,” Paige said softly, moving behind her to fluff the displaced couch pillows. “And they clearly adore her.”

Azzi paused. “It’s just… I didn’t expect it to feel so normal. For her to feel this safe with people I’ve barely let into our world.”

Paige glanced over at her, watching the tension in her shoulders shift. “You let the right people in, Az. She’s a great judge of character. Just like her mama.”

Azzi looked up at her then, something flickering in her expression, somewhere between surprise and softness. Paige held her gaze for a moment before turning back toward the mess. She grabbed Sparklehorn’s pink plastic tiara from the armrest and placed it on the windowsill gently, like it was made of glass.

“Hey,” she said, voice low but steady. “I wanted to ask you something.”

Azzi looked up again, standing now with a handful of colouring pages stacked under one arm. “What’s up?”

Paige hesitated, chewing lightly on the inside of her cheek. “This weekend. It’s a long weekend, right? No practice, no classes, no games.”

Azzi nodded slowly. “Yeah…”

“Well,” Paige began, moving a little closer. “I was thinking. What if we got out of here for a few days? Just… took a break. Somewhere quieter.”

Azzi’s brows knit together, uncertain but listening. “Where would we even go?”

Paige didn’t look away. “Maryland. My dad's place. I already texted them, including Drew. They’d love to see me, and I told them I wanted them to meet you. Both of you.”

Azzi froze for a second. “You mean—me and Ruby?”

“Of course,” Paige said, her voice softening even more. “You’re my girls.”

Azzi looked down at the pages in her hands. One was a drawing of a purple castle with Sparklehorn standing on the roof. She set it aside slowly. “Are you sure? I mean… are they ready for that? For all of this?”

Paige took another step closer until she was right in front of her. “They’ve been asking about you for months. And I know it’s not the same as seeing someone online through FaceTime or hearing about them over the phone. But I want you to meet them because you matter. Both of you. You’re not a secret to me. You’re my life.”

Azzi blinked once, twice, the weight of those words landing somewhere deep in her chest. Her voice was quieter now, almost unsure. “You already booked the tickets, didn’t you?”

Paige smiled a little. “I did. I used miles. We’d fly out early Thursday, come back Monday. Just enough time to unplug. No headlines. No cameras. Just real air and space.”

Azzi took a slow breath. “Ruby’s never been on a plane before.”

“We’ll make it easy for her,” Paige said. “She’s been asking to see the sky clouds, remember? It’ll be an adventure. You, me, and Sparklehorn in a security line.”

Azzi laughed under her breath, the tension in her body finally beginning to ease. “You planned this whole thing.”

“I wanted to give you something to look forward to,” Paige said. “And honestly, I wanted an excuse to show you off.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but her smile curved quietly. “That’s gross.”

“You love it.”

“I really do.”

They stood there for a moment, close enough to touch but not quite, hearts thrumming in the space between them. Through the kitchen window, they could see Ruby twirling in a circle with Caroline, chalk dust puffing off her sleeves as Ines drew wings on the driveway.

Paige reached out and took Azzi’s hand again. “So… is that a yes?”

Azzi laced their fingers together and gave her a look that was all affection, all trust, all yes.

“Let’s go meet your family,” she said. “Me and my unicorn.”

Paige leaned in and kissed her again, a little deeper this time — not rushed, not dramatic. Just certain. Like she already knew they were headed exactly where they were supposed to be.

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

By the time Paige and Azzi stepped out into the backyard, the sun was already dipping behind the trees, casting long golden beams across the grass. The air had cooled just enough to raise goosebumps, but the energy outside was warm, buzzing with leftover laughter and the scent of crushed sidewalk chalk.

Ruby knelt near the patio, face flushed and focused, scribbling furiously with a pink chalk nub clutched in her fist. Sparklehorn was perched in a lawn chair behind her, wrapped in a sparkly scarf and wearing a paper crown that had definitely been taped together with glitter glue.

Caroline stood off to the side with her hands on her hips, inspecting the scene like an art critic. Ines was crouched next to Ruby, her cheek smudged with a streak of blue chalk, nodding seriously as Ruby added one final swirl.

“Okay!” Ruby called, tossing the chalk into a bucket with dramatic flair. “Now you can come look! But don’t step on the wings!”

Paige and Azzi exchanged a look, half amusement, half bracing themselves, before carefully stepping onto the path.

Ruby pointed like a tour guide. “This is the rainbow wedding! See? That’s Sparklehorn. She’s the princess. And that’s Kelvin. He’s a flying dragon with science powers. And this is the sky bridge! It’s only for true love people.”

The mural stretched across nearly the whole patio, a wild explosion of color and shapes and sparkles. Sparklehorn was drawn with purple chalk and had three tiaras. Kelvin was blue with extra-long wings and little hearts coming out of his fire. There were stars and castles and a rainbow arching over the whole scene like a giant pastel dome.

Azzi leaned in to inspect one section. “Is this Caroline?”

Ruby nodded. “Yep. She got a cloud bouquet.”

“And what’s Ines doing?”

“She’s spinning me!” Ruby said, giggling. “We’re throwing flower petals and Sparklehorn’s flying down the aisle.”

Ines squinted. “Who’s that up there with the glasses and the big cape?”

“Oh, that’s Nika,” Ruby said seriously. “She’s the wedding lady. She’s gonna do the talking. Like, ‘Do you pick Sparklehorn to be your dragon forever?’”

Caroline tilted her head. “Why Nika?”

Ruby shrugged. “She’s bossy but nice. That’s how wedding ladies are.”

Azzi let out a quiet laugh and bent down to kiss Ruby’s temple. “She’ll love that.”

Paige crouched beside her, brushing chalk dust off Ruby’s sleeve. “What about us? We’re in the drawing too.”

Ruby looked between them, thoughtful. “Well… maybe you and Mama could get married too.”

The words came out so simple, so direct, that both Azzi and Paige froze.

Azzi blinked. “Wait, what?”

Ruby gave a dramatic shrug, as if this was obvious. “You’re already my team. You sleep in the same bed. You kiss. That’s what married people do.”

Paige coughed, clearly caught off guard. “Wow.”

Caroline turned away, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Ines covered her mouth, trying not to snort.

Ruby kept going, oblivious. “I could throw flowers for you too! And Mama could wear a twirly dress. And Paigey could wear pants. And Sparklehorn could bring the rings in a basket. She already practiced.”

Azzi crouched and gently pulled Ruby into her arms, holding her tight. “Baby, that’s really sweet.”

Ruby rested her cheek on Azzi’s shoulder. “I just want you to be together forever.”

Azzi’s eyes fluttered closed for a second, and Paige reached out, brushing her fingers along Azzi’s arm.

“We’re working on it,” Paige said softly.

“You should do it soon,” Ruby whispered. “I wanna wear sparkly shoes.”

They stayed like that for a while, the three of them in a small tangle of knees and chalky clothes, tucked under a fading sky. The mural sprawled around them, full of dragons and crowns and rainbows. Somewhere behind them, Caroline quietly snapped a photo before stepping back again to give them space.

And in the center of it all, Azzi held her daughter close and let herself believe, even just for tonight, that some fairytales could be built with glitter and sidewalk chalk and truth spoken by a nearly three-year-old girl who saw the world exactly as it could be.

—--------------------

Wednesday Afternoon

The hum of game day buzzed through the walls.

Sneakers squeaked across the polished court outside, music thudded faintly through the speakers, and bursts of crowd noise filtered down the tunnel in waves, rising and falling like a heartbeat. Inside the locker room, the energy was more focused. The air was thick with anticipation, the smell of muscle rub and fresh tape. Jerseys were being pulled on, laces tied, headphones adjusted.

Paige sat at her locker, taping her fingers methodically, earbuds in but music paused. She was already in game mode, half-tuned into the world, half zoned in on what was coming.

Across the room, Azzi sat quietly, tying her shoes with careful precision. Her movements were slow, almost hesitant. Her brows were slightly furrowed, and though she hadn’t said much since they’d walked in, Paige had clocked the shift in her energy almost immediately.

They both knew why.

Ruby wasn’t here.

The decision had been made the day before, after a quiet conversation with Coach and UConn PR. After Darshay’s unexpected reappearance, everyone agreed it was better... safer for Ruby to sit this one out. No headlines. No risks. Just one game watched from afar.

Still, it stung.

Azzi’s phone buzzed softly on the bench beside her. She glanced at it, and for the first time that hour, her face shifted into something lighter.

Incoming FaceTime: Katie (mum)

Azzi didn’t hesitate. She grabbed the phone, stepped just out of the way of the main lockers, and hit “accept.”

Ruby’s face filled the screen, upside down and way too close. Her curls were wild, cheeks flushed, Sparklehorn clutched tight in one arm. “Mamaaaa!”

Azzi’s whole face softened. “Hi, baby.”

Paige looked up across the room, smiling despite herself.

“Look!” Ruby yelled. The camera flipped around clumsily to show a blanket fort made out of two chairs and a tablecloth. “I made the game tunnel! Me and Sparklehorn are doing team huddles!”

Azzi laughed, adjusting the phone angle. “Wow. That’s some serious pregame prep.”

Ruby flipped the camera back to her face, tilting her head dramatically. “Are you nervous?”

“A little,” Azzi admitted.

“I’m not,” Ruby said with a serious nod. “I told Sparklehorn we’re gonna win by a gazillion. And I saved your lucky snack. The pink gummy.”

Azzi smiled, her heart aching in the way only Ruby could make it ache. “Thanks, baby. I miss you.”

“I miss you more,” Ruby whispered. “You need your kiss now?”

Azzi nodded. “Yeah. I really do.”

Ruby puckered her lips with full toddler dramatics, holding the kiss for three full seconds before declaring, “Double good luck! That means no airballs!”

Azzi laughed again, quietly this time. “Thank you, Coach Ruby. I love you.”

“I love you too, Mama,” Ruby said, yawning a little. “Tell Paigey she better dunk it.”

Paige called from across the room without looking up, “You got it, kiddo!”

Ruby squealed. “Go Huskies!”

Azzi ended the call gently, pressing the phone to her chest for a second before setting it down.

She stood still for a beat, shoulders rising and falling with a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding. Paige walked over, silent until she was close enough to touch. She leaned back against the locker next to Azzi and bumped her shoulder softly.

“You okay?”

Azzi nodded, but her eyes were shiny. “I just… I hate that she’s not here. I know it’s the right call, I do. But this is the first time I’ve played since… all of it. And she’s not in the stands.”

Paige reached over and hooked her pinky with Azzi’s. “She’s in the tunnel, babe. She’s watching from her fort. Probably giving Sparklehorn play-by-plays.”

Azzi let out a shaky laugh. “She told me no airballs.”

“Well,” Paige said, giving her a crooked grin, “you better get it together then. That’s the boss talking.”

Azzi leaned against her a little, letting herself soak in the calm that always seemed to radiate from Paige on game days. Paige shifted closer, bumping her knee. “And hey. You still got your good luck kiss.”

“Yeah,” Azzi said softly. “But I could use another one.”

Paige tilted her head. “From me?”

“Obviously.”

Paige stepped in slowly, gaze flicking down to Azzi’s lips. “How hard do I need to kiss you for a triple-double?”

Azzi laughed through her nose, her smile finally breaking through. “Just kiss me, Bueckers.”

And so she did — quick and sweet, but enough to settle something low in Azzi’s chest. It was nothing flashy, just familiar. Certain. The kind of kiss you gave someone who made you feel like yourself again.

The locker room buzzed around them, but in that moment, everything narrowed down to this: the steady thrum of trust, the hum of energy between them, the echo of Ruby’s voice still warm in their ears.

Azzi pulled back, already feeling lighter, when Paige gave her a look, one of those crooked little smiles she wore when she was about to be annoying on purpose.

“What?” Azzi asked.

Paige tilted her head. “I’m just saying… you got your kiss.”

Azzi blinked. “Yeah?”

Paige leaned in a little, her voice low but playful. “So where’s mine?”

Azzi huffed out a laugh, but her face warmed. “You want me to kiss you for your good luck?”

Paige shrugged, all mock innocence. “Seems fair. I’ve got a stat sheet to fill too, baby.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but she stepped forward anyway, gripping the collar of Paige’s warmup shirt and pulling her in just enough to press a kiss against her jaw. Soft, lingering, warm.

Paige didn’t even try to hide the grin that bloomed across her face.

“There,” Azzi said, tugging lightly at the hem of Paige’s shirt before stepping back. “Now we’re even.”

“Not even close,” Paige murmured, but her voice was all affection.

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

The buzzer had barely sounded when Coach Geno motioned for Paige and Azzi to hang back near the end of the bench. The team huddled briefly on the court, cheers still ringing through the arena as the other players headed toward the tunnel, sweat-drenched and flying high off the win.

Geno stepped closer, lowering his voice beneath the noise.

“You two, skip media tonight.”

Azzi blinked. “What?”

He gave them both a look, firm but not unkind. “It’s handled. PR’s running point. They know Darshay’s name doesn’t come up. But I don’t want either of you sitting under lights answering questions that don’t matter right now. Go shower. Go pack. I’ll tell the reporters you had family business.”

Paige hesitated. “Are you sure?”

Geno nodded once. “This team’s got your back. I got your back.”

Azzi’s chest tightened as Paige reached out and briefly touched Geno’s arm in quiet thanks. Neither of them said much as they made their way through the tunnel, but the relief between them was obvious.

They left the arena without press interruptions, walking side by side under the purple-orange wash of twilight. Their bodies ached in the good way — muscles sore and buzzing from the game. Paige carried her duffel lazily over one shoulder, while Azzi tugged at the strap of her backpack with one hand, the other brushing the edge of Paige’s hoodie every now and then without even thinking about it.

“So,” Paige said casually, glancing sideways as they turned toward the dorms. “You packed already?”

“For Ruby? Yeah,” Azzi said, the mum-tone kicking in automatically. “Snacks, blanket, tablet, headphones, backup Sparklehorn, crayons, and the emergency glitter pouch. It’s all in her little carry-on.”

Paige smirked. “So she’s more ready than me.”

“She’s been ready since last night,” Azzi added with a fond smile. “She told me she’s gonna wear her unicorn hoodie through security so they know she’s magical.”

“She’s not wrong.”

They climbed the steps to Paige’s dorm in companionable silence. When they got inside, Paige dropped her bag on the floor and turned toward Azzi with that familiar glint in her eye.

“You know,” she said slowly, “we could get started on packing. Or…”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Or?”

Paige shrugged, voice lower now. “We could shower first. For, like, practical hygiene reasons.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And also,” Paige added as she stepped closer, resting her hands lightly on Azzi’s hips, “because you’re hot when you win and I’d like to be clean and naked next to you.”

Azzi groaned. “You’re the worst.”

“But so charming.”

Azzi shook her head, smiling despite herself, and nudged Paige toward the bathroom. “Start the water. I’m not showering in a freezing dorm stall.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The water was running within seconds, steam curling into the air and fogging the mirror. The tiny bathroom wasn’t luxurious by any means, but none of that mattered as Azzi peeled off her jersey and stepped in behind Paige. The stall was barely big enough for both of them, but they fit like muscle memory.

Azzi tilted her face into the spray and let the water run down her spine. Her breath softened, easing out of her chest like it had been waiting for hours. Paige stood behind her, fingertips gliding gently along Azzi’s waist as she leaned forward to press a kiss to the slope of her shoulder.

They didn’t say much.

There wasn’t a need.

Paige washed Azzi’s back carefully, running a soapy hand over each shoulder blade, down the ridges of her arms, the curve of her spine. Azzi let herself melt into the touch, eyes closed, breath syncing with Paige’s like they were tethered by the same current.

When Azzi finally turned to face her, the water streaked down both of their cheeks, their hair curling damp around flushed skin. Paige lifted her hand to cup Azzi’s jaw, brushing her thumb across her cheekbone.

“I’m proud of you,” Paige murmured. “For tonight. For everything.”

Azzi looked at her for a long moment, something quiet and open in her expression.

Then she kissed her.

It wasn’t a kiss that demanded anything — just a kiss that said thank you, that said I’m with you, that said I love this with you, and I love you in it.

They stepped out of the shower warm and clean, wrapped in towels and a kind of quiet that felt like safety. Paige pulled on a soft tank top and shorts while Azzi slipped into one of Paige’s oversized t-shirts and dried her curls as best she could with the little towel Paige handed her.

“Okay,” Paige said, moving back into the room, “let’s finish packing so we can get back to your place.”

Azzi nodded. “Yeah. Ruby’s probably already in pajamas waiting for us.”

Paige grinned. “Think she’ll sleep tonight or be too excited?”

Azzi gave her a look. “She packed Sparklehorn’s toothbrush. She’s gonna crash early from the stress.”

They both laughed softly and crouched down together by Paige’s suitcase. She already had most of her things laid out — clothes, shoes, chargers, travel snacks. Azzi helped with the last few pieces, folding a hoodie and zipping up the sides while Paige tucked her AirPods into the front pocket.

When they were done, Azzi leaned forward without a word and wrapped her arms around Paige’s waist, burying her face in her shoulder. Paige didn’t even flinch — just pulled her in tighter, her hand resting against the small of Azzi’s back.

“Thank you for doing this,” Azzi whispered, her voice barely audible. “For making it feel like… like we’re allowed to breathe again.”

Paige didn’t respond right away. She just turned and pressed her lips gently to Azzi’s temple, then down to the corner of her mouth. The kiss was slow, deliberate, tender in the kind of way that didn’t ask for anything back. Just love. Just care.

Azzi leaned into it, then kissed her again, one more, softer, this time with her hand cupping Paige’s jaw.

It wasn’t flashy. It wasn’t even spoken.

But it was hers.

And it was enough.

Or, it could have been — until Paige’s fingers slid just slightly along the edge of Azzi’s thigh, her thumb tracing that soft skin above the hem of the borrowed t-shirt. Azzi’s breath hitched. She looked up at Paige, eyes darker now, lips parted slightly.

Paige leaned in again, this time slower, her lips brushing just below Azzi’s ear. “You keep looking at me like that and I’m not gonna make it to morning.”

Azzi smirked, fingers curling around the hem of Paige’s shirt, tugging her closer. “So don’t.”

Paige’s hands slid to her waist, and for a second it was all pressure — warm breath, damp skin, tension tugging at every seam between them. Azzi’s nails dragged lightly across Paige’s back, and Paige let out a low sound that definitely wasn’t PG.

But just as Azzi started to shift into her lap, Paige stopped. Just for a second.

She pressed her forehead to Azzi’s and groaned. “God, I want to. You have no idea.”

Azzi blinked, dazed and breathless. “So what’s stopping you?”

Paige let out a quiet, reluctant laugh. “She’s probably in her unicorn pajamas right now waiting for us to tuck her in. If we’re even ten minutes late, she’ll claim Sparklehorn got worried.”

Azzi exhaled, half a sigh, half a laugh and nodded. “Right. Ruby.”

Paige kissed her again, quick and lingering. “She comes first.”

Azzi softened. “Yeah. She does.”

But as Paige stood and reached for her bag, she threw one last glance over her shoulder, the kind that promised unfinished business.

“Just so you know,” she said, voice low, playful, and entirely serious, “when we get back from Maryland… I’m not letting you get away with teasing me like that again.”

Azzi smiled slowly, grabbing her bag and following her out the door. “Good.”

They left the dorm together, the air cooler now, their fingers brushing again like always. And somewhere across town, a little girl in sparkly pajamas was probably waiting with Sparklehorn tucked under her arm, wondering what kind of adventures the next morning would bring.

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

The ride from campus to Azzi’s place was quiet and easy, the kind of quiet that didn’t need filling. Paige drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting loosely on Azzi’s thigh. The soft hum of the car and the rhythm of the tires against the road settled them into a familiar calm, even as the anticipation of the morning flight hung quietly between them.

By the time they pulled into the driveway, most of the neighbourhood was already dark. The porch light was on, a soft yellow glow against the steps. Through the front window, a flicker of the living room TV lit up the edges of the curtains. Inside, Ruby was already winding down with a blanket over her lap and Sparklehorn tucked tight against her chest, cartoon voices echoing faintly from the speakers.

Azzi unlocked the door quietly, peeking in first. Ruby’s head popped up the second she heard the latch click.

“Mama!” she whisper-yelled, dramatically flinging her blanket off as she ran full-speed to the door.

Azzi crouched to meet her, arms open.

“Hi, baby,” she whispered as Ruby launched into her arms.

Paige stepped inside just behind them, closing the door gently, and grinning at the sight. Ruby twisted in Azzi’s hold to reach toward Paige.

“Paigey! We won the game, right?”

Paige chuckled, already reaching for her. “Crushed it.”

Ruby stretched toward her, and Paige scooped her up in one smooth motion, spinning her gently until Ruby giggled and clung to her neck.

“I missed you,” Ruby said into her shoulder.

“We missed you too,” Paige murmured, holding her close, but her eyes were already fixed on Azzi. Soft. Warm. Stubbornly in love.

Ines and Caroline would’ve had a field day with it if they were here. Paige didn’t care.

Ruby babbled all the way back to the couch about Sparklehorn’s bedtime adventure and how she saved a fake worm from the laundry room. Azzi turned the TV off with a smile and promised to read her a book if she brushed her teeth for two minutes, which Ruby declared was “easy-peasy for a big girl almost three.”

Once she was back in pajamas and freshly scrubbed, they all headed to her room together. Paige settled Ruby into bed while Azzi tucked the unicorn beside her pillow, fluffing the sparkly mane as if Sparklehorn herself needed proper sleeping posture.

Paige sat down on the edge of the bed and smoothed a hand over Ruby’s hair. “You excited for tomorrow, baby?”

Ruby nodded so fast her curls bounced. “Mhm. Gonna go on the big airplane! Gonna fly with the clouds!”

Azzi leaned on the frame of the doorway, watching the two of them.

“And who are we going to see?” Paige asked, eyes twinkling.

“Drew!” Ruby squealed. “And your daddy! And Drew’s gonna teach me how to win at Fort-kite.”

“Fortnite,” Paige corrected gently, grinning.

“Yeah, that one,” Ruby said seriously. “He said I can build a sparkle house.”

Paige laughed and bent to kiss her forehead. “He’s gonna love that.”

Azzi came over and kissed the other side of Ruby’s head. “You’ve got your hoodie, your snacks, and your colouring stuff all packed. Ready for the adventure?”

Ruby nodded again, clutching Sparklehorn tight. “Can I sit by the window?”

“Of course, baby,” Azzi said. “Window seat is all yours.”

After hugs, kisses, and one final reminder from Ruby that Sparklehorn had “never been on a plane before,” the lights were dimmed and the door gently pulled shut.

Back in Azzi’s room, the quiet wrapped around them like a blanket. Her suitcase sat half-open at the foot of the bed, a few clothes already folded neatly inside, enough to show she’d prepped Ruby’s essentials in advance, down to a small pouch labelled snacks for ears with toddler-size gum and biscuits for the plane.

Paige took off her shoes and sat down on the carpet beside the suitcase. “Okay. Boss me around. What’s left?”

Azzi smiled and dropped to the floor behind her, then slid into Paige’s lap without hesitation. “You’re already doing it. Keep going.”

Paige blinked, amused. “You just gonna sit here and cuddle while I pack for you?”

“Yep.”

“And you call Ruby spoiled.”

Azzi hummed and curled her arms around Paige’s waist. “She learned from the best.”

Paige laughed under her breath but kept going, folding soft hoodies and rolled-up leggings, sliding in toiletries, and triple-checking that Azzi had remembered her ID. Every time she shifted forward to reach something, Azzi shifted with her — like they were tethered, like her weight on Paige’s lap made the space feel anchoured somehow.

“This is the best packing method,” Azzi murmured eventually, resting her chin on Paige’s shoulder.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“But you like it.”

Paige didn’t deny it. Instead, she leaned back just enough to kiss the corner of Azzi’s mouth. “You’re all set. Sparklehorn’s passport is in the side pocket.”

Azzi smiled sleepily. “Then we’re ready.”

The bags were zipped. The house was quiet. And Ruby — their fearless, glitter-crazed, magical daughter — was fast asleep down the hall, dreaming of sparkle houses and high-altitude unicorn adventures.

Paige wrapped her arms around Azzi’s waist and gave her a gentle squeeze. “We’ll be okay,” she said softly. “Tomorrow, and after that. You know that, right?”

Azzi nodded without hesitation. “Yeah. I do.”

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

The alarm went off at 5:15 a.m., chirping softly from Paige’s phone on the nightstand. It was still dark outside, the kind of thick, early quiet that made the world feel like it hadn’t quite woken up yet. A chill settled low in the room, the kind that made slipping out from under the covers feel like a betrayal.

Paige didn’t move.

Azzi was already up — technically — sitting propped against the headboard with her hair tucked in a loose braid, scrolling through her checklist one last time. But Paige stayed curled at her side, arm draped across Azzi’s stomach, face tucked somewhere against her ribs like a human blanket with a grudge.

“Baby,” Azzi whispered, brushing the backs of her fingers across Paige’s cheek.

“No,” came the muffled reply.

Azzi laughed softly, shifting so she could run her fingers gently through Paige’s hair. “We have a flight to catch. Ruby’s already up.”

Paige burrowed deeper into her side. “She’s three. She’ll forget.”

“She’s not even three yet, and she already reminded me that Sparklehorn packed first,” Azzi said gently. “C’mon, sleepy. You gotta get up.”

Paige groaned. “You’re warm. I’m staying right here.”

Azzi leaned down and kissed the top of her head, then her temple, then just below her jaw. “I’ll warm you up again later,” she promised, voice soft. “But right now we need to go play airplane with the sparkle queen.”

That earned a reluctant laugh. Paige opened one eye, gaze a little blurry but adoring. “Why are you so good to me?”

Azzi kissed her again. “Because you let me love you.”

Paige didn’t argue after that.

Down the hall, Ruby was wide awake and narrating her outfit to Sparklehorn, something about “big girl socks” and how today she was dressing “airplane brave.” She lit up the moment Paige entered the room with a yawn and a hoodie, launching into her arms and declaring her hoodie was “not sparkly enough but still nice.”

They were out the door by six, Tim waving from the driver’s seat and Katie handing off a small thermos of coffee from the porch with a wink. “Don’t let her fall asleep before the plane takes off,” she warned Azzi, nodding toward Ruby. “Or she’ll be up the whole flight asking why the clouds aren’t pink.”

At the airport, things went mostly smoothly until they reached security.

Ruby clutched her unicorn carry-on like it held the secrets of the universe, lips trembling the moment the agent gestured toward it. “We just need to scan it, sweetheart,” the woman said kindly, reaching out.

But Ruby pulled back instantly, holding the bag to her chest. “No!” Her voice cracked. “Sparklehorn’s in there! And her toothbrush! And her snacks!”

Azzi knelt immediately beside her. “Baby, it’s okay. They’re just going to put it through the little machine so we can make sure it’s safe, okay?”

Ruby’s eyes filled, her body stiff with fear. “But what if they don’t give it back?”

Before Azzi could say anything else, Paige stepped in — calm, gentle, steady.

“Hey, hey,” she said, crouching beside both of them. “Look at me, Roo.”

Ruby sniffled, eyes still shining.

“I’m gonna walk your bag through the scanner myself,” Paige said. “I’ll stand right there and watch the whole time. Sparklehorn’s not going anywhere, okay? I promise.”

The agent nodded and knelt a little herself, smiling warmly. “And guess what? Sparklehorn gets to go on a special ride. We’ll keep her safe the whole time, promise.”

Ruby hesitated. Then, slowly, she held the bag out to Paige.

“Okay,” she whispered. “But only if you hold her hand the whole time.”

“I got her,” Paige said with a small smile. “I got both of you.”

They made it through without another hiccup. Once past security, Ruby climbed into Azzi’s lap at the gate and insisted on feeding her animal crackers one by one until boarding began. She took her window seat proudly, Sparklehorn buckled in next to her, and declared, “We’re flying to sky land now,” before yawning big and curling up with her hoodie pulled over half her face.

Fifteen minutes into the flight, she was fast asleep.

Azzi shifted slightly in her seat, careful not to wake her, and glanced down at her daughter with a mix of affection and fatigue. Her hand rested protectively on Ruby’s little leg. Paige, seated in the aisle seat, passed over one side of her AirPods and offered a quiet smile.

“Wanna listen?” she whispered.

Azzi nodded, accepting the earbud and leaning just slightly into her side. Paige’s playlist filtered in, mostly R&B. Comfort music.

A few songs passed like that — just quiet and shared.

At one point, Paige leaned over and pressed a light kiss to Azzi’s shoulder, her hand settling on Azzi’s thigh beneath the tray table. “You doing okay?” she whispered, lips brushing skin.

Azzi nodded slowly, her eyes still fixed on Ruby. “I am now.”

Paige kissed her again — softer this time. “Good.”

They didn’t talk much after that. They just held onto each other, floating a few thousand feet above the noise, with Ruby asleep beside them and Sparklehorn keeping watch from the window.

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

The plane’s wheels touched down with a gentle thud, followed by a rush of engine hum and a soft, collective exhale from the cabin. Ruby stirred immediately, blinking awake as if her internal clock had been set for landing.

“Are we in the sky still?” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

“No, baby,” Azzi whispered, brushing a hand through her curls. “We just landed.”

“Where’s Drew?” she asked groggily, already craning her neck to look out the window. “Is he down there?”

Paige chuckled. “He’s not on the runway, Roo.”

Azzi smiled, but Paige caught the flicker in her expression — that subtle tightening in her jaw, the way she adjusted her posture as the other passengers began shuffling around them.

Nervous.

Azzi didn’t say anything, but Paige knew her well enough to feel the difference in her silence.

She reached over without thinking, her hand slipping beneath the armrest to rest against Azzi’s thigh, just a quiet, grounding touch. Azzi looked over and blinked at her, almost like she’d just remembered Paige was still there. Paige gave her a small smile — soft, steady — and Azzi nodded once, letting out a breath like it helped.

When it was their turn to stand and collect their bags, Paige kept her hand on Azzi’s lower back. When they stepped into the jet bridge, her fingers found Azzi’s again. And when Ruby started chattering about whether the airport had unicorn statues or not, Paige used the distraction to gently lean into Azzi’s side, guiding her through the flow of passengers without crowding her.

“You good?” Paige asked quietly as they moved toward baggage claim.

Azzi didn’t answer right away. Then, finally, “I’m just… it’s a lot. I want them to like us.”

Paige squeezed her hand. “They already do. You know that, right?”

Azzi nodded, but Paige didn’t let go.

The terminal was buzzing with people — kids dragging backpacks, announcements over the loudspeaker, wheels of suitcases thudding against tile. Ruby skipped ahead a few paces, dragging Sparklehorn behind her by the leg, only to pause dramatically in front of a vending machine shaped like a rocket ship.

“Is that the spaceship we’re taking to Drew’s house?” she gasped.

Azzi actually laughed — a soft, real laugh, and Paige felt it in the way her fingers relaxed.

“No, baby,” Azzi said. “That’s just snacks.”

“Space snacks?”

“Sure,” Paige added. “Let’s call them that.”

They kept walking, and Paige didn’t let go of Azzi’s hand once.

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

They rounded the corner toward baggage claim, the tiled floor catching slants of afternoon light as rows of travellers leaned over silver carousels and checked their phones. Ruby clutched Azzi’s hand with one and Sparklehorn with the other, swinging both back and forth with increasing excitement.

“Do you think Drew will have snacks?” she asked, skipping a little. “He said he had a snack drawer.”

“I’m sure he does,” Azzi said with a smile. “Probably just for you.”

Paige walked beside them, wheeling one carry-on behind her, her other hand resting at the small of Azzi’s back. She didn’t say much, but she didn’t need to, she could feel the way Azzi kept glancing around, the faint but familiar restlessness that came with too much attention and too many people.

They were almost to the carousel when Ruby’s entire body jolted with energy.

“There he is!” she cried, nearly tripping over her unicorn rolling bag. “Drew!”

And then she was off, Sparklehorn dragging behind her by one limp glittery leg.

Azzi made a soft sound, half instinct, half alarm. “Wait, Ru—!”

But Paige caught her gently by the arm. “She’s okay,” she said, steady and close. “Look at her.”

Ruby was already barreling toward Drew, who had just spotted her over a line of luggage carts. His eyes widened with surprise before a grin split across his face, and he dropped the foam cup he was holding just in time to catch her flying hug.

“You’re real!” Ruby declared as her arms wrapped around his waist, almost knocking them both off balance. “You’re really here!”

Drew laughed, half-winded. “So are you! You’re way taller than the iPad said.”

“Sparklehorn came too,” Ruby added seriously, then whispered, “She’s shy.”

Bob, who had stepped in behind them, crouched gently and opened his arms. “Hey there, Ruby girl.”

She turned, eyes sparkling. “Hi Grandpa Bob!” she shouted, like they’d seen each other every day for years.

She wrapped her arms around his neck like she’d been waiting her whole life to do it.

Behind them, Azzi came to a stop and stood just out of the way, unsure of what to do with her hands. Paige leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her temple.

“You okay?” she asked.

Azzi nodded, a little stunned. “She’s never like this with people she doesn’t know.”

“She does know them,” Paige murmured. “She just needed to see it in real life.”

Ruby pulled back from Bob, then turned and darted toward Azzi again. “Mama, come say hi!”

Azzi blinked, then stepped forward slowly, hand still caught in Paige’s.

Drew looked up at her — curious, excited, and completely unfiltered in the way ten-year-olds often were. “You’re Azzi,” he said, matter-of-fact.

“I am,” she said, a bit breathless.

He stepped up and gave her a sudden, fast hug — short and simple, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to, but wanted to anyway.

“You’re cooler than you looked on FaceTime,” he said quickly, then looked at Paige. “She’s so tall in real life.”

“She’s always been tall,” Paige said, grinning.

Azzi laughed under her breath, not quite sure what to say, and then turned as Bob stepped forward, not with a handshake, but with open arms.

“Good to finally meet you, Azzi,” he said, warm and low.

She returned the hug, surprised again by how natural it felt. “It’s good to be here. Really.”

Bob pulled back just slightly and glanced between her and Paige, then down at Ruby, who had now taken Drew’s hand and was rambling about “sky gum” and juice boxes.

He didn’t say much just offered a small, knowing smile. “You’ve got a good crew,” he said quietly to Paige. “The way you look at them…”

Paige ducked her head, just a little. “I know.”

Bob nodded. “You’re softer than you used to be.”

Paige glanced over at Azzi, who was crouching now to zip up Ruby’s unicorn bag while Ruby told Drew a very long, very incorrect story about airplane turbulence. “That’s a good thing, right?”

Bob smiled. “It’s the best thing.”

A chime echoed over the intercom as the luggage carousel began to churn and thud. Paige let go of Azzi just long enough to grab their bags, and when she turned around, Azzi was already adjusting the strap on Ruby’s little backpack like it was second nature.

Paige didn’t say anything. She just walked over, looped her free arm around Azzi’s waist, and kissed her cheek.

“Let’s go home,” she murmured.

Azzi nodded, eyes shining.

“Yeah,” she said. “Let’s.”

As they stepped away from the bustle of baggage claim and into the calm hush of the terminal exit, the air outside was crisp and golden with afternoon light. The car sat just a few paces away from the curb, the trunk already open, Drew jogging ahead to help Bob load the suitcases while Ruby darted between them, still animated from the airport reunion.

Bob closed the trunk with a gentle thud and turned back toward Azzi. She was standing just beside Paige, her posture a touch hesitant again now that the quiet had settled around them. Maybe it was the way her fingers curled near her waistband, or how her gaze flicked between Ruby and the street like she was trying to take in too much all at once.

But Bob didn’t give her the space to linger in it.

He opened his arms, not dramatically, not forcefully, just warmly and said, “I’m really glad you’re here.”

Azzi blinked, startled for a second. But then something in her seemed to ease, and she stepped forward without overthinking it, letting herself be pulled into a brief but solid hug. It was the kind of hug that didn’t ask for anything but offered reassurance anyway.

“Thank you for having us,” she said quietly into his shoulder.

Bob pulled back with a gentle pat to her back and a kind smile. “Anytime.”

Ruby had already claimed the middle seat in the back, arms crossed in determined ownership. “I’m gonna sit here ‘cause Sparklehorn needs both of you to keep her safe,” she declared, climbing in and buckling herself in with practiced drama.

Paige laughed and followed her, sliding in first so Azzi could sit on the other side. Ruby immediately passed Sparklehorn to Azzi like a sacred offering, then snuggled into her lap sideways with a sigh of exaggerated relief. “Now we’re all together.”

Drew climbed into the front passenger seat and immediately adjusted the side mirror like he had any reason to. “I call aux.”

“You don’t even have a phone,” Paige teased from the back.

“I brought my iPad,” he said smugly, already pulling up a playlist labelled VIBES WITH SPARKLEHORN.

Bob raised an eyebrow. “No songs with cursing.”

“I know,” Drew groaned. “You say that every time.”

Paige shifted in her seat, her thigh pressing lightly against Azzi’s, who sat with her head tilted back and one hand still gently holding Ruby’s leg. The kid was rambling now about what Sparklehorn wanted to eat for dinner and whether Drew had “real Fortnite snacks,” but Azzi barely looked away from the window.

“You okay?” Paige murmured near her ear, just low enough not to be overheard.

Azzi nodded slowly, then turned to meet her gaze. “Yeah. I really am.”

Paige smiled and reached over, brushing her knuckles lightly along Azzi’s jaw. “Good. Because this is your family too now, okay?”

Azzi didn’t reply with words. She just leaned in — not all the way, not dramatically, but enough. Enough that her forehead touched Paige’s temple and stayed there for a moment, long enough to settle something deep inside her chest.

In the front seat, Bob started the car. The radio came on low. The windows were down just enough to let in the evening breeze. And as they pulled away from the airport curb, Paige, Azzi, and Ruby sat tucked together in the backseat, bodies pressed close and warm. Ruby hummed softly, Sparklehorn now balanced on her lap, one foot resting lightly against Paige’s knee.

There were still things to face. Conversations to have. A world beyond this drive waiting for them.

But for now, everything felt full. Whole. Safe.

#pazzi #azzi fudd #paige bueckers #pazzi fics #uconn wbb #paige x azzi #wlw

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borathae · 2 months ago

Text

↳ Index [Snippet #57 - Tentacles]

“When you and Jungkook test out your new tentacle dildo.”

Genre: married life!AU, Slice of Life, Smut, Fluff in the beginning

Warnings: domestic sweetness, they’re couple goals, Bamie being their cute son, Kook being a dork, the next warnings are for the smut, switch!Kook, switch!Reader, but the D/s dynamic is very minimal, this is about a couple in love taking turns to make the other feel good, but he calls her Mistress when he gets really into it, pussy fingering & clit play to get her ready, making out, being totally lost in the moment, use of a tentacle dildo, sharing of said dildo, they take turns with it, use of lube, first she penetrates her pussy with it, then he fucks his ass with it, hand job, nipple play, neck kisses, some drool, mutual masturbation, praise, dirty talk, wet & messy orgasms, squirting for both, cuddly aftercare, they’re in love <3

Wordcount: 6.5k

a/n: anonie, your enthusiasm about this wip made me finish it, hehehe, so this one's for you <3 honestly it’s so horny, enjoy besties 🧡 i fucking love this koo so much omfg my comfort koo for life <3

You are using your laptop by the kitchen table for a change. A bowl of salted peanuts and a glass of white wine is keeping you company. You can hear Bam playing with one of his squeaky toys in the living room. The constant squeaking should annoy you, but it doesn’t. It has become part of your life, serving as a nice background reminder that Bam was happy.

You take a sip of the white wine, scrolling down the webpage you currently find yourself on.

“Doing some online shopping?” Jungkook asks, coming into the kitchen to get his workout drink. He spent the afternoon drawing in his hobby room and plans on doing his boxing workout now.

“Yeah, just browsing for some stuff”, you answer him, not looking up.

He comes up behind you, bending down to kiss your neck and hug you. Such affection is a daily occurrence from him, which means that you don’t let it distract you from your shopping. It is still really nice and exciting, don’t misunderstand.

“That’s nice. What stuff?” he asks.

“Just some more lube and toy cleaner. We’ve run out. Hey, do you think that we should get a tentacle dildo?”

Jungkook falters. He finally looks at the screen, eyes widening at the rows of silicon dicks looking back at him.

“Oh my god, you’re doing dick shopping in our kitchen?” he gasps.

“I guess”, you say and chuckle at his use of words.

“What the hell, baby?”

“In my defence, I only wanted to get lube and cleaner first, but fell down a rabbit hole. Remember the alien dick conversation we had?”

“I guess? I don’t know. Not really, no.”

“Either way, I got a tentacle dildo on the front page and now I’m here. On the fantasy dildo page, thinking how hot it would be to own one. Should we get one?”

“Wait a minute. I need to sit down and see the options.”

And like that, his boxing workout has to wait as you and he spend a good hour deciding on which tentacle dildo to get.

Jungkook is home when the package arrives. You are still at the restaurant, working hard.

Jungkook is working on a tattoo in his room when the doorbell rings. He tells Bam to stay and hurries to the door to check who was interrupting him. He thanks the postman and wishes him a good day, then he hurries to the living room.

He takes out his phone and dials your restaurant’s number. Then he stands by the living room window, looking outside with one hand on his hips.

“Hello, you’ve reached ___’s Bistro, Joe speaking. How may I help you?” one of your employees picks up.

“Hey, Joe. Here is Jungkook speaking. Can I talk to ___, please?”

“Yo hey, Jungkook man. Yeah, right away”, he says and calls out to you, “hey, ___! Jungkook’s asking for you!” He speaks to Jungkook again, “she’s on her way.”

“Thanks, man.”

A few moments of silence. The restaurant sounds busy in the background.

“Thanks Joe. Hey, sweetie”, you suddenly say.

“Is Joe gone?”

“Yes, he’s back to working. Why?”

“Baby, I need you to come home immediately.”

“Why? What happened? Are you okay? Is Bam okay?”

“The dildo arrived.”

“Wow okay. Thanks for making me have a heart attack. You can’t just say that to me after calling the restaurant. I thought that an emergency had happened.”

“This is an emergency. I really wanna open it and look at it.”

You laugh, “you’ll survive.”

“No, I won’t. Please sweetie, come home.”

“I would love to, but the restaurant is really busy. It’s probably gonna get late today.”

“Nooo babyyyy, why would you say that?”

“I’m sowwyyyy, I swear I don’t want it either. But it’s Friday and payday for most. People want food.”

“And I want my wife.”

“Just play your Sims until I’m home.”

“No, I’ll sit by the door and whine. Like a dog.”

You laugh, “okay do that, puppy.”

He grins, “please don’t work too hard.”

“I’ll try. You can open the package already if you want to.”

“No, I wanna do it with you.”

“Okay, okay.” More noise in the background. “I really gotta go now. We got more customers.”

“Yeah, okay. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The call ends. Jungkook huffs out air in frustration. Never in his life has he missed you as much as he misses you right now. For just a second, he even considers driving to the restaurant just so he can watch you work.

Bam stubs his leg. Jungkook looks at him and pets his head.

“I know, Bamie. I miss her too. Stupid payday, it’s always busy then.”

Bam whines, showing Jungkook the tennis ball in his mouth.

“Should we play some fetch? Okay, let’s go to the beach.”

Jungkook stays down by the beach until Bam is basically tired enough that he barely manages to get up the stairs. Jungkook cleans him in the garden and prepares cold water for him to drink as he makes dinner.

He texts you if you want to eat dinner at home to which you say that you already ate at the restaurant. So Jungkook makes himself a quick meal, eating by the table while Bam eats his dinner as well. You text him again as he eats.

- Wifey ♡: It’s still busy here :( I’m sorry…

- Jungkook: Don’t apologise ♡ I’m sorry that it’s busy :( sending you lots of energy ♡

- Wifey ♡: Yay thank you ♡

Because it will still take you some time, Jungkook decides to go for one last digestion walk with Bam. Afterwards the poor Doberman is so tired that he falls asleep on Jungkook’s lap during his night time routine. Of course you and Jungkook have a night routine for Bam, which consists of wiping down his fur, moisturising his paws and brushing his teeth. Jungkook leaves out Bam’s “jammies” tonight, sending him straight to his crate. Bam merely manages to snuggle up against his emotional support dinosaur plushie and then he is already fast asleep.

“Sleep, my baby. Daddy loves you so much”, Jungkook whispers and sends him a hand kiss, afterwards he leaves Bam’s room. Just in time with you arriving home. Jungkook hurries to the door and sits down. He has a plan. To make you laugh.

Not long after he sat down, the door to the garage unlocks. You step inside and stop, eyes falling to Jungkook sitting on the floor and whining.

“Seriously?” you say, having to laugh loudly. You stumble, knees giving up and so you end up on the floor as well.

Jungkook laughs with you, closing the distance to touch your arms.

“Did you actually sit here and whine all day?”

“Of course I did”, he jokes, only making you laugh harder.

You hug him, muffling your happiness in his shoulder. Jungkook hugs you back, feeling on cloud nine. Making you laugh will never ever lose its magic.

“Oh god, you. This just wiped away all of the stress I felt.”

“I’m glad. I guess I don’t have to ask how your day was.”

“It was stressful, but not bad. Still glad to be home now and to have three free days ahead of me.”

“I know, me too.”

“How was your day?”

“Lonely without you, but still good. I was at the beach with Bam almost all day. He’s basically dead in exhaustion. He even snored when I left the room.”

“Aww Bamie, so cute. Our son. I bet he had such a good day running around.”

“He did, yeah.”

You and he stand up together, exchanging a loving kiss. He helps you out of your jacket and carries your bag for you.

“So did you really wait with the package?”

“Of course I did. I wanted to look at it with you.”

“You really didn’t have to.”

“No, I wanted to. It’s important to me that we unpack it together.”

“You’re cute. Let me just wash my hands real quick. I feel disgusting.”

“Okay.”

You join him in the living room in comfortable clothes. You sit down next to him.

“Ready?”

“So ready.”

He takes the package and scissors. You scoot closer, watching him open the box.

Some packing peanuts, the receipt, the toy.

“Wooaah”, you and he gasp at the same time, eyes widening.

“This looks so realistic.”

“It’s bigger than I thought it would be.”

“Take it out of the package, I wanna touch it.”

You and he hold the toy together.

“Wooaaah.”

It is purple in colour and with a good length. Around twenty centimetres with a growing girth. The tip is just a little thicker than Jungkook’s thumb, while the base is around the size of his wrist. The silicon feels soft and very high quality and it has no scent to it, which is always a good sign.

“Run your thumb over the suckers, they feel so realistic”, he says.

“They do. Wow. Do you think that we can feel them?”

“I hope so. That’s lowkey the point.”

“Me too. It’s actually so long. My cooch is not gonna handle that well.”

“Yeah, it’s big. I feel like I’m gonna struggle too.”

“Right. We can take it slow.”

“Definitely.” He glances at your face. “Should we do it tonight?”

You meet his eyes.

“Okay no, you don’t want to. That look told me everything I needed to know.”

“Sorry, I’m really tired.”

“Don’t apologise. We looked at it, that’s already enough for me. Whenever you’re in the mood.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes, sounds good. Should we shower and then watch a movie and cuddle?”

“Yes, this sounds amazing. I’m sorry that I’m not feeling it tonight.”

“Apologise again and I’m biting you.”

You chuckle, “okay fine.”

It is around four in the afternoon the next day when Jungkook seeks you out. He was in the garden before that, while you lounged on the beach. He sits down next to you, calling your name. You open your eyes.

“Hey, baby.”

“Hey, you.” He rubs your arm. “Baby?”

“Yes?”

“I was wondering if maybe you are in the mood?”

You sit up, “you’re horny? Now?”

“Not horny, just really curious.” He pouts. “I just wondered, you know, it’s been almost a day and yeah. Yesterday, you said you wanna do it tomorrow. And today is tomorrow and yeah.”

“Did you already clean out and everything?”

“No, I would do it now if you said yes.”

“You know what? I am down, actually. Once we’re ready, it’s gonna be later anyway, so why not start already? Should I clean out downstairs?”

“Whatever you want. I’m flexible.”

“Then let’s do it like that.”

“Yes, I’m so happy right now.”

You and he pack up and then go home to get ready.

You meet in the bedroom again, cleaned out and so ready. Bam is officially in his crate and the door is locked because you don’t want to be disturbed. Slow RnB music is playing and you have the thin curtains drawn closed to shield away some of the sunlight.

You are naked, laying out your waterproof sheets, when Jungkook comes outside.

“Oh. Hey. Yay, matching outfits”, he greets you.

“You’re looking good in it, my handsome.”

“Says the right one, my beautiful”, he flirts back and closes the distance in confident steps.

It is so sexy to be naked together when the near future offers pleasure. He connects his hands with your waist, running them down to your hips. His big, brown eyes race over your face and tits, sparkling in adoration.

“Hey”, he rasps.

“Hey”, you coo.

“You’re so sexy”, he says in a breathy whisper.

“Thanks. You’re so sexy too”, you say and run your hands from his abs up to his pecs.

“It feels good how you touch me.”

“Your body is perfect.”

He looks at your lips, “I’m really excited. How are we gonna do this?”

“I guess I go first and you go second? Because, you know, ass to pussy is never a good idea.”

“Right. We can’t have you catching something. Let’s have you go first. What do you need me to do to get you there?”

“Just kiss me and let me feel you on top.”

“Come here”, he says and fulfills your wish enthusiastically. He kisses you, picking you up just to lay you down on the sheets and climb on top.

He gives you a moment to catch your breath. The way he looks at you makes you feel like the most beautiful person to ever exist.

“Is this comfy?” he asks, touching your thighs gently. You have them around his hips to keep him close.

“Yeah, it’s perfect.”

“Let me know if you don’t want me to touch you somewhere. I’ll let my hands wander, yes?”

“Yes, don’t leave anything out please. Can I touch you everywhere too?”

“My body’s free real estate for you”, he jokes, making you laugh.

He smiles, chuckling, and kisses you.

“Idiot”, you murmur between kisses, fingers running through his hair.

“You love it”, he answers you, right hand running along your side.

“Mhhm, love it.”

“Baby…”

Perhaps it’s all the years together, but it is so much fun to turn each other on. It’s so easy and exciting and damn, do you love doing it. Today it’s especially nice because it’s such a perfect day for spontaneous sex.

The sun is warm and enters the bedroom in a yellowish glow because of your curtains. You are trapped in a cozy, sensual atmosphere, floating on the growing clouds of attraction. You left the balcony door open to let in the salty ocean breeze. The rushing of waves joins the music as much as the occasional call of a seagull does. This is paradise and it’s your daily life.

The realisation makes you pull him so much closer. His back ripples and tenses, his throat produces the loveliest of sighs. His skin feels like heaven. Soft and warm and so his’. Perhaps it is impossible to understand but you know the sensation of his skin these days. You could recognise him just by touch.

Jungkook runs his right hand from your shoulder down to your hip. He holds you there, pinning you down with just enough strength that you notice it. He is gentle in it however, giving you a tender roll of his hips which naturally grinds his dick over your tummy. He is already so swollen and hard.

“Fuck, Kook”, you break the kiss, gazing up at him with heavy eyes, “I need you to play with my pussy. I can’t do long make out sessions today.”

“Anything you need”, he says and puts two of his fingers into his mouth to get them wet.

Once happy with the results, he slips them between your legs, rubbing them up and down your sweet warmth. He is propped up on his hand for now, arm tense and keeping his weight up with little struggle.

You exhale in relief, eyelids fluttering. He lowers himself to his elbow and cups your cheek, making it so much better.

“Is this nice?”

You nod your head, “I love this moment.”

“Me too. You’re so beautiful in this light.” He traces your eyebrows and caresses your left temple. “My goddess.”

“Kiss me, I mean it.”

Jungkook moans softly, letting you pull him into a kiss. You control the tempo and intensity and he is so happy to follow. It feels so good. It’s been years since you shared your first kiss on top of the ferris wheel and it still feels as exciting as it did back then. Perhaps even more exciting because each kiss, each eager touch and tender lick is filled with memories of your life together.

Jungkook feels light-headed. He takes your left hand and pins it above your head in sync with his hips rolling against your inner thigh. He is leaking all over your skin because he is already rock hard. He gets hard so easily with you. He swears it’s because he loves you so much.

You run your right hand down his back until you can grab a good amount of his buttock. It makes him growl into the kiss and chase your thigh in a needy thrust. You love it so much. Being under him, having him hold your hand and fuck your thigh and goddamn, having him rub your pussy. You love this so much, leaking onto his fingers.

“More.”

Jungkook hums in understanding and buries his wet fingers in you. He is slow in it, so as not to hurt you.

A gasp breaks the kiss. You look at him with the neediest and sexiest face he has ever seen.

“Is this good for you?” he speaks in a low purr, eyes totally smitten for you.

“So good, ah.”

“Mhhhhm, I love your pussy”, he purrs and kisses you deeply. It is his turn to control the tempo, the intensity and fuck, is he passionate with it.

If you weren’t already entirely engrossed by him, you would have started to be right this moment. He tongue kisses you like he is doing it professionally, all while he curls and scissors his tattooed fingers deep inside you. And because this fucking bastard is amazing, he rubs his thumb up and down your clit, including a circle whenever he is right on top.

You swear that you will melt into a puddle because of him. These are the moments where you love his perfectionism. He is so stern with himself all the time, but it results in him having perfected pleasure. He touches you like it is his destiny and god, you might lose yourself.

You break the kiss, choking out your words.

“Stop right now. Stop.”

Jungkook freezes up.

“Pull your hand away. Now.”

“Oh my god, what’s wrong?” he gasps, doing what he is told. He even sits up, panicking enough that his cock goes a little soft.

“Fuck this was close, what the heck.”

“What’s wrong? Are you okay? Please don’t tell me that I hurt you.”

“No, I almost nutted.”

“Wow okay, then say that and not be so cryptic. I was so scared”, he pouts.

“Sorry, are you okay?”

“No, I need you to kiss me.”

You snicker, getting on your knees and closing the distance. You kiss him like this. Kneeling with him as your arms snake around his body and your tits melt with his pecs. His cock is between your tummies, getting rubbed so good that he grows hard again.

And Jungkook forgives you instantly, cradling you in his strong arms. He towers over you a little, resulting in you having to crane your neck and lean into him. He loves it so much, feeding you his needy sighs alongside his tongue.

Fuck, he is so into you. He growls and grabs your ass with both hands, doing it with such passion that you whimper and tremble. You twist his hair at the back, getting him dizzy and short of breath.

In return you feel light-headed and ready to crumble into a pile of horny mess. The way he is kneading your buttocks feels so good. Possessive and rough, which means you can feel it in your pussy as well. You press yourself so much closer to him, turning him on unbearably.

If this continues, he might ask you to forget about the dildo and fuck him instead. And because you and he are basically connected, you break the kiss just to mention said dildo.

“I need to sit on the tentacle now or I will never escape you.”

He chuckles breathily, “fuck, why are you so good at reading me?”

“Because I’m obsessed with you”, you flirt, sending his pulse into a frenzy.

He gives you his best and most loyal puppy eyes ever. You peck his lips and wiggle out of his arms.

“Are you excited to watch me?” you ask, getting the dildo ready. You put it into one of your strap-on harnesses and strapped it to a pillow to make it easier to ride.

“I’m so excited”, he confesses, watching you smear lube all over the purple tentacle. “Getting it wet sounds so sexy.”

“Right? I’m so curious how it’ll feel. Now silence, I need to concentrate.”

He gasps dramatically and holds his breath with his eyes big and his cheeks puffed out. He makes you laugh, setting him off too.

“You can breathe.”

“Just making sure.”

Giggling and laughing, you position yourself over the toy. Jungkook watches you, laughing and giggling just as much. How fucking good it feels to laugh with you during sex.

You get serious once you start playing with the tip however, taking your lower lip between your teeth and looking down at the toy.

Jungkook shares in your silence, breathing heavily because the view is so arousing to him.

You lower yourself, taking the toy easily. Just the tip. Down. Down. Down until the stretch comes. Stop.

“Fuck, this is… Woah fuck…”

“Is it good?”

More. Deeper.

“It’s intense. Woah” you writhe and reach down to touch your own tummy, “woah, this is deep. Oh my god.”

Jungkook presses his thighs together, mewling needily. Knowing that you are stuffed turns him on so much.

“Please try to move”, he begs and you do.

“Fucking hell, urgh”, you get out, throwing your head back and twisting the pillow. “What the fuck is that?”

“Is it good? Does it hurt?”

“It’s like I’m getting impaled by an alien or something”, you moan, rolling your hips on the purple tentacle needily. You try to lift your hips as well, resulting in your puffy cunt to slurp up the tentacle greedily. It sounds so wet and sinful. Looks like actual pornography.

“Baby, oh my god”, he whimpers, having to touch his own nipples because it excites him so much. He rubs his hands over them, all while his thighs are squeezing his balls for stimulation. He can’t stop looking at your pussy and how she gets impaled by the tentacle. She is stretching so much, weeping and slurping happily and Jungkook swears he will pass out at the view.

“Ah, Jungkook”, you moan, arching your back sensually, “Jungkook…baby…Jungkook…”

He can’t do this. He can’t just watch when you moan his name like this. He closes the distance and calls your attention by rubbing your arm.

You peel your eyes open and lift your head, gazing deep into his eyes.

“Does it make you think of me?”

“It feels so nice. Koo, I keep thinking of you as my alien lover.”

He moans. You whimper his name and drop down on the tentacle. It squelches sinfully, stretching your pussy addictively well. It doesn’t hurt, it just feels intense. This is the kind of stuffing that satisfies you to the very core. The kind of stuffing you want to keep chasing and chasing and chasing.

“Jungkook…”

He runs his eyes over your body, chest rising and sinking in a shaky breath. He lifts his hands, running them along your curves without actually touching you. The ghost of it tingles, making you crave his fingers on you.

“I really wanna touch you”, he whispers, eyes glued to your stuffed pussy.

“Please, do.”

He rests his left hand on your waist and slides his right hand between your legs. His fingers part your folds, finding your clit easily and picking up a sensual rhythm.

“Kook”, you moan shakily, resting your hands on his strong pecs. The toy feels a million times more intense now that he is touching you. The suckers keep grinding against your entrance, sucking and stimulating it sinfully well.

“You’re so soft”, he whispers, eyes racing between yours. His fingers draw circles on your clit, knowing exactly how much pressure and what speed you love. Of course they know. He touched you a million times before. Your body is a landscape he knows how to explore blindly. And he won’t ever grow bored of it, tingling in pleasure each time he rubs your clit.

With shaky fingers, you touch the nape of his neck. You pull his face down, moaning when your foreheads touch. The eye contact remains, the tension is electric.

“Sweetie”, he sighs, sliding his left hand to the small of your back. He loves how you tense as your hips dance on the toy.

“Koo, it feels so good”, you whimper, grasping his neck.

“I know it does. I know. I’m so happy. You’re so beautiful, my sweetheart.”

“Oh god, it feels so good.”

“Enjoy it. Focus on it. You deserve it.”

“Kiss me.”

Jungkook claims your lips as his’, moaning with you as you sink into the kiss. You convulse around the toy, grasping his face. His fingers speed up on your clit, sending trembles through your legs.

The kiss breaks just barely, but you needed to moan and gasp for air.

“Am I doing good?”

“Really, ah, re-really good.”

“God baby, I wanna live in this moment forever.”

“You’re gonna make me cum.”

“Good, so good. Focus on it, baby. Focus on the toy. How it’s inside you.”

“I can feel the suckers everywhere”, you mewl, twitching, “ah, Koo.”

“Good girl. Taking my tentacle so well. Mhm? Are you taking my tentacle well?” he taunts, wanting to play into your fantasy because it will get you off.

“Koo…” you whimper breathily, eyes going just a little cross.

“Good girl, such a good girl.”

Your hips have no true rhythm going on. All they are doing is rut and squirm and chase the orgasm. Your entrance is already so sensitive because of the tentacle. Your pleasure spots inside are throbbing and burning in ecstasy. And your clit pulsates each time he runs his skilled fingers over it.

His eye contact. The close proximity. His hand on your back. His dirty talk. The moans he shares with you. It is all too much. You are completely and utterly submerged in this moment. You exist for nothing but him and the pleasure you create together.

“I’m cumming.”

“Cum for me.”

“Koo.”

He moans into your mouth because you pull him back into a kiss. The moan turns into a throaty purr as you begin sucking on his tongue because this is all that you can manage during your orgasmic shakes.

This high is intense. It really, genuinely, weakens you. To the point where you fold in on yourself and your legs press together. You fall against Jungkook, forcing the kiss to break.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.”

“I’m here, hold onto me. I’m here.”

“Jungkoooooook”, you mewl, reaching between your legs to press his fingers closer. Your knees are twitching, legs squeezing together and walls throbbing around the tentacle. This isn’t over. This orgasm has layers to it, hitting you over and over again.

“Good girl. You’re doing so well. Cum on my tentacle, such a good girl.”

You sob, “ah-a-ah.” And then it happens. You squirt, messying the toy and your thighs. Truly, if Jungkook wasn’t holding you, you would have already collapsed.

“Oh my god, Yes baby. Yes. Squirt for me. This is so hot. Fuck, yes give me everything.”

His words help you ride it out. And it is glorious. To know that you have someone like Jungkook helping you through it, makes it so much better.

He rubs your clit until you pull his hand away. Brought to your limit, you instantly have to slip off the toy. The tentacle squelches loudly as it leaves you, flopping to the front. It glistens sinfully. Big globs of your orgasm are sticking to the suckers.

“I can’t, ah”, you get out and plop down in the mess.

“Breathe, baby. Breathe”, he talks you through the aftershocks, cradling your face with both hands.

“This was really intense.” You gulp, eyes glassy. “I’m shaky.” You exhale weakly. “Can I get a hug, please?”

“My baby, you cutie. Of course, come here”, he hugs you against him, rocking you softly. “Let me hold you, babygirl. I’m here.”

“Oh god, Koo.”

“Just lean on me. I’m here.”

His loving embrace helps so much. Because of it, you manage to come back safely. Oh, it is so comforting to be loved by him.

You lift your head, gazing at him.

“Hey, do you feel better?” he whispers, caressing your cheeks. It doesn’t matter to him that some time has passed. As a matter of fact, sharing this tender moment with you felt like paradise to him.

“Yeah, I feel happy. I can’t believe this just happened.”

“Me neither. I haven’t seen you this twitchy in some time.”

“I don’t know what happened. It felt so good.”

“It did?”

You nod your head. He exhales shakily.

“Not gonna lie, this makes me really needy.”

Your eyes glimmer.

“Do you wanna ride it?”

“I do. I really fucking do.”

“I’ll clean it.”

“Don’t.”

Your heart flutters.

“Fucking don’t clean it. I wanna know that I get to have you inside me. At least something of you.”

“Koo”, you get to your knees, cradling his face, “Koo, please ride it. I can’t wait to watch you.”

He nods his head and slips out of your touch. You scoot back a little to give him space.

“I hope I’ll like it too.”

“I’m sure that you will. This toy is definitely your style.”

“Fuck, I’m so excited.”

“Do you need me to prepare you somehow?”

“No, watching you get off was everything I needed. Besides, I’m wearing a plug.”

“That’s so hot.”

Jungkook reaches behind himself and pulls out the plug. He groans softly, leaking onto the sheets.

“Thank god we put the sheet down”, he says.

“Definitely. First me, now you. We’re so messy.”

He chuckles, putting aside the plug. He takes the tentacle and positions it under himself.

“I’m so ready to sit on it.”

“You will love it so much.”

He picks up more lube, spreading it on the toy.

“It’s so warm from you. And messy. I can’t wait, fuck.”

“Me neither, baby.”

He circles his loosened rim, staring down at himself. His lower lip is between his teeth, his brows are furrowed. You don’t want to breathe, gawking hungrily.

He lowers himself. The tip slips in.

“Ah.”

“Relax. Take it easy.”

More. He manages around seven centimetres and stops. A groan leaves him, followed by a “fuck”, and his head rolling back.

“Is this a it’s good fuck or a it hurts fuck?”

“An it’s more intense than I thought it would be fuck.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

“I get you now. Oh my god what the fuck”, he chokes out, touching his tummy to check how much he takes.

A little more and he stops again, grasping the pillow for support. It squeezes his pecs together and makes his arms tense.

“___”, he moans, cock twitching and lungs working overtime to breathe.

You close the distance and hold his waist. He rolls his head to the front, meeting your eyes. His gaze is droopy and entirely smitten for you.

“I’m right here, baby. Just look at me when it gets too much.”

He moans your name, eyes fogging up and hips dropping further down on the slickened tentacle. Five more centimetres, and his mouth falls open. Not for long because he has to bite his lower lip in sync with him trying to rock on it. His brows tremble because they can’t decide whether to lift or furrow.

“Intense?” you ask, rubbing his waist.

He nods his head, rolling his lip between his teeth.

“Keep looking at me, baby. I’m here.”

He whimpers softly, cupping your cheek.

“I don’t know if I can slip off”, he confesses.

“Hurts?”

“It’ll feel so good. I can’t do this.”

“Just try, baby. For me.”

Jungkook furrows his brows and obeys. He slips off the toy.

“Ah!” He yelps and flinches. “O-oh my god. The texture.”

“It’s intense, isn’t it?”

“Yes” He squeaks, closing his eyes. He drops back down on the toy, lifting his hips instantly to pick up a needy rhythm.

“Just listen to you getting fucked. Your hole sounds so stuffed right now.”

“It feels so good. I feel every sucker. Ah. The girth. My hole is so….ah….filled.”

“That’s right. It’s so stuffed with me.”

He whimpers, legs shaking.

“Isn’t that right? You got my orgasm deep inside you, baby.”

“Please.”

“It’s coating your insides. I’m making you mine.”

“Please, shut up”, he keens, trying his hardest to cover your mouth with his hand. His palm is so warm and just a little sweaty.

You giggle, kissing his shaky fingers.

“What’s wrong? Don’t like me talking dirty to you?”

“Don’t want this to end. No orgasm. Not yet. Please.”

“Okay, okay sorry. Then let me watch you for a while.” You dance your hands over his body. “You don’t mind me touching you as you get fucked, do you?”

“Please”, he breathes out, dropping his head in defeat, “don’t stop touching me. It feels so good.”

He slings his left arm over your shoulder, using your other shoulder as his headrest. You rub his back, sliding your right hand to his cock.

“___”, his voice is squeaky and entirely drenched in pleasure. His hips tremble before getting so much sloppier on the tentacle.

Jungkook knew that you weren’t lying when you lost it on the tentacle, but he didn’t think that it was actually this intense. He has a very sensitive hole, even normal stimulation with your strap feels intense. To have something so intensely textured pound him over and over again is actually deeply overwhelming for him. He can feel each sucker his hole swallows, he can feel them trying to stay inside when he slips off and he can feel them digging their way back inside when he drops down. Because of its shape, most of the stretch stays by his hole. And there is always this one sucker which seems obsessed with his prostate.

“I get it. ___ my love, I get it.”

“You do? Do you like it?”

“Love it. Goddess, I’m yours. Please don’t ever leave me.”

The toy has him clingy. He must love it a lot. He only gets this way when the pleasure has infiltrated his brain as well and the only thoughts occupying his mind are thoughts of you.

“I’m not leaving you, Koo. Feel it, this is me making you mine. You’re on my mind”, you promise him, twisting your hand around his tip.

“___.”

He drops on the toy and stays down, hips suddenly rutting back and forth vigorously. You know this motion, you know the urgency of it. He turned cock dumb, trying oh so desperately to make himself climax. The only thing you can do is keep your hand still and talk sweet to him.

“Good boy. Make yourself cum. What a good boy you are. You’re made for the tentacle.”

“My nipples, please.”

You connect your left hand with his chest, playing with his nipple. His right one is a little more sensitive so you are paying attention to it. You rub and squeeze it, tugging on his piercing very gently whenever you feel like it.

“I’m cumming”, Jungkook whimpers and breaks with a sob. He shoots his load all over your hand and tummies, collapsing into you and scratching your upper back.

“That’s it. Cum for me. Good boy, give me everything. Cum for me”, you talk him through it, jerking his throbbing cock.

He sobs loudly, curling into himself because the orgasm reached his prostate. He doesn’t want to but he still spills translucent liquid all over your tummy. He can’t help it. You touch him just right.

“___!”

“Yes baby, squirt for me. Let the tentacle milk you. Good boy.”

“___, I can’t stop.”

“I know, let it happen. Don’t try to hold it in”, you encourage him, squeezing every single droplet out of him and Jungkook can do nothing more than give you everything his body can produce.

“Hurts”, he means it honestly once the high stops. He slips off the toy with shaking legs and drops into your arms.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

“I’m shaky”, he whimpers, seeking your comfort by nuzzling his nose into your neck.

“I know exactly how you feel. Lean on me, it’ll pass soon.”

“Oh god, oh god…”

“I’m here, babyboy. I’m right here.”

The perfect thing about you and Jungkook is knowing that you can be each other’s comfort and not have it feel weird. He can be dominant and strong while you are shaky and weak. And in return you can be just as dominant and strong while he is shaky and weak. This is what makes you and him so fucking perfect for each other.

With your love, Jungkook recovers quickly. Soon, he feels strong enough to lift his head and meet your eyes.

“How are you doing?”

“Good, but vulnerable. I wanna hold you.”

“Let’s lie down.”

Your limbs tangle together so you can face each other. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are glimmering prettily.

“I don’t know what happened.”

“Me neither. There must be crack on this toy.”

He laughs weakly, “seriously. At some point it felt alive inside me.”

“Right? And the sounds-”

“So wet. I tried not to listen because it would have broken me instantly.”

You agree with a nod and snicker. Jungkook smiles softly.

“I feel so droopy”, he confesses, dropping his hand on your cheek.

You melt into his touch, “you look droopy.”

He hums and closes his eyes. You scoot closer and kiss his nose.

“Just think of the day I peg you with it.”

He mewls, “don’t make me think of that, I’ll pass out.”

“Sorry”, you snicker and kiss his nose a second time, “I’m so happy that we bought this toy. I definitely wanna use it again.”

“Yeah me too.” He kisses your lips, mumbling a very heartfelt “I love you” against them.

“I love you too.”

“Wanna cuddle.”

You close the distance and snuggle into him. Jungkook purrs happily, hugging you against him.

“This was amazing”, he whispers, “it got me there so fast. I’m kinda sad it’s over.”

“I get you. I got there so fast too. Means we have to do it again soon.

“Yeah definitely.”

You snuggle him tighter, tracing mindless shapes on his back. He does the same along your spine.

“The sun’s starting to set”, you whisper.

“Nice. I love the sunset. Should we make pasta for dinner?”

“Pasta sounds amazing. And for dessert we can have ice cream.”

“Yeah, mint choco.”

“No, hazelnut choco.”

Jungkook smiles. Even years later, your favourite ice cream flavour hasn’t changed.

“I love you so much”, he whispers, wrapping his limbs around you to melt you into him.

“I love you too, but I’m gonna suffocate”, you whine, heart racing like crazy.

“Take it, I need to squeeze you.”

You laugh, letting it happen gladly. He is such a sweetheart.

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bbluefllame · 9 months ago

Note

I love your UA Touya so muchhhh!!! If you don’t mind, can you write down UA Touya HC’s!!!🤍🤍

U.A touya hcs !!

note: I was gonna save this till I finish all my other reqs but I decided why the fuck not 😭 also thank u for loving my ua touya!! he's officially my everything‼️ also also!!! this is a sugar spice and everything nice universe<3 everyone's okay here ‼️

- nepo baby I have nothing else to say, you've def went on multiple trips w him and his family (ur basically the 5th child for them). His bday gifts go so hard and he's like "yeah yeah whateverrrr" while blushing if u hug him!!

- he's a super heavy sleeper. Like normal touya is a menace while sleeping, ua touya is double that and it's scary I fear him. Sleepovers always end up with you going to sleep in the guest room cs the mf won't stop moving, kicking, snoring, and talking (and occasionally shouting)😭 instead of js "no I don't do that." he'd go "huh don't remember doing it so it didn't happen. 🤷‍♂️" obviously you don't remember you were sleeping mf.

- he gives his all in training (esp cs he has support gear), training w him is like a full-on battle it's a fucking struggle to hold him down, but also he'd be the best training partner you'd ever have. He would NEVER and I say NEVER take it easy unless you ask him to, if he gives it his all he wants you to give it your all.

- loves SWS and PTV, has been forced into piano by Rei as a child and kind of liked it, he probably likes classical music bcs Enji played it alot as well and it helps him focus while studying. OVERALL incredibly into music and could talk abt it for hours (you probably have listened to him rant abt music for 2 hrs straight before)

- is a failure in the kitchen no questions asked, he asked Fuyumi to teach him how to make soba once, 10 minutes in he starts scratching his head going "uh huhhh got it" (HE DOES NOT GET IT!!!!!)

- loves chemistry and math, don't ask why he just does also he gives off good at drawing without trying?? like he's a natural, all the art teachers adored him!!!!

- Shoto and Touya are so silly tg. Touya rolls his eyes and pouts, shoto copies his big brother even if he doesn't know what he's doing😭😭 Touya does something remotely cool and Shoto's looking up at Touya with sparkles in his eyes like "THATS MY BIG BROTHERRR!!!" while clapping (this is when shoto is a lot younger ofc not when he's 15‼️ he still adores his big brother at 15 tho)

- touya pretends he hates how close you and shoto are but the mf adores it and thinks it's adorable and sweet!!

- natsuo and touya are gossipers. Except Touya has all the dirt and Natsuo gasps while nodding his head, after all of that they RUN to Fuyumi who tells them "At the end of the day, we shouldn't talk about people." while sighing as if she isn't noting it down in her head to run and tell it to her bsf ‼️

- you can't tell me he's not putting his hand on his head whenever he's flirted with and going "WTF DO I DO!!" and if it's you (even if it's joking and through text) he's sitting on his bed giggling at 3 am and then panicking internally before acting nonchalant and texting "ew"

- he does get girls and guys tho, he's too pretty to not have bitches 😭 he just doesn't know what to do with the bitches ‼️‼️

- loves abandoned spots, he forces you to go with him even if ur scared while you're going "bro there's a ghost I'm telling you" he's like "what is it gonna do?? eat you??" While rolling his eyes or sumn😭

- you best believe if he feels sumn though he's running for his life, like he could be on par with Iida bcs of how fucking scared he'd get he's shooting his fire behind him and RUNNING!! in the end it's probably a spider or sumn and he's like "pfff I knew that!!!"

- has some sort of rivalry with Keigo even if he didn't do anything ALSO you showing interest in keigo just makes the hate 10× more intense he tweaks the second he sees you looking at keigo.

- he swears up and down left and right that he hates roblox but he LIESSSS!! you could find him 3 am on dress to impress arguing w kids about emo vs goth cs mfs don't know the difference

- on the topic of roblox, you, shoto, and him probably play it once a week tg (shoto chooses the game 99% of the time)

- whenever he's anxious or sumn he just goes "cool yeah coolcoolcool" cool is the most overused word in his dictionary trust (he just kinda reminds me of jake Peralta in the vocabulary department..)

- makes sure shoto memorizes the lyrics to hot and cold by Katy perry just bcs it's funny to him (it's so stupid), there's a dance number and everything TRUST!!!

- 4 am in the morning, rei has walked in on touya on his knees doing the emo hand move thing while singing with a comb.

- HE TURNS THT SHIT OFF SOOOO FAST WHILE COUGHING AND COVERING HIS FACE

- rant to him all you want, he might not understand but he'd listen ‼️‼️ (the second he hears of any mistreatment he tweaks)

- during the sports festival he's burned keigo's feathers multiple times (cough cough reference)

- sorry everyone but he IS one of those "Oh you like sws? name 5 songs." God forbid he sees a preppy nirvana t-shirt, he'd burn it in the store and run away

- he's actually pretty touchy when he's comfortable, like pinkies wrapped tg or hand around ur shoulder just has to have a hand on you at all times ‼️‼️

- overall awesome bsf, awesome brother, and would be an awesome bf!!

okay I'm done now it's 2 am and i gotta sleep hope u like this anon !!! 😔😔 (soz for making this so long)

#bnha #bnha x reader #mha #touya todoroki #bnha x you #mha x reader #mha x you #bnha hcs #mha hcs #touya todoroki x reader #touya x reader #bnha touya todoroki #dabi x reader #mha dabi #bnha dabi #dabi hcs #shoto todoroki #todofam

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seonghwaddict · 1 year ago

Text

showering with ateez — masterlist

requested by anon. genre. hc, fluff rating. pg-13. warnings. showering together, kissing, mildly suggestive. wc. 944.

[ lilo’s notes . . . ] thank you for this request anon~ hope you enjoy it!! :3

hongjoong

you love your boyfriend very much, but you can’t deny that he’s a workaholic sometimes he’d forget to take care of himself, but luckily you’re there to help!

so when you notice he hasn’t showered in around three days, rotting on the couch with his work laptop glued to him, you gently walk over a hit the save button, closing the machine and setting it on the table before you pull him off the couch and into the bathroom.

he doesn’t protest, letting you wash him with the soft hands that he loves oh so much. he returns the favour happily, though lazily in his tired state. it’s a quiet activity, barely any words exchanged, but it’s comfortable and intimate in an innocent way.

seonghwa

seonghwa likes things clean and organised. which is why he usually showers twice a day—morning and night. while his morning showers are private and used partially to wake himself up, his nightly showers are reserved to be shared with you.

it happened once, then again, and soon enough it became a routine. you arrive home just slightly earlier than him, and when he comes he wastes no time in pulling you into the master bedroom and then the bathroom.

it’s usually a quick shower, helping each other scrub areas that were hard to reach. and afterwards he dries you off and dresses you and forces you to rest on the couch as he prepares some dinner.

yunho

he’s the one that asks you to shower with him.

he absolutely love love loves the feeling of you washing his hair for him. and when you’re not doing that, he’s clinging to you and just holding you under the pouring shower head. he especially likes using shampoo that will make plenty of bubbles.

if you’re having a bad day, he likes to be the one to take care of all the work—washing your hair and massaging you in the warm shower.

yeosang

he wouldn’t be one to share a shower or anything but i think yeosang would prefer a bath with you. sitting in a warm pool of water and bubbles, relaxed enough to just fall asleep right there.

he’s so shy at first, not wanting to face you but he’ll relax soon enough and have you sit between his legs, facing him with your legs around his lower torso. not a lot of washing gets done, instead the two of you just converse softly and enjoy each other’s presence.

using the bubbles to make a beard and moustache so he can hear your pretty laugh. practically falling asleep against the back of the tub as you rub the vanilla scented soap on his body, drawing little patterns.

san

he loves showering with you, especially after activities in the bedroom. whether or not there’ll be another round in the shower completely depends on you, he’s always happy to cater to what you want.

he prefers for you to sit on the little shower bench, kneeling on the floor to wash legs and areas easier to access in this position. after that he’ll stand up behind you and give you a light massage, occasionally pressing fleeting kisses to your wet hair.

though you try to return the favour and help him get clean, he scolds you playfully and tells you to relax. when it’s all done and your both dried off and in clean clothes, he makes sure to coddle and pamper you for the rest of the night.

mingi

he’s not for or against to showering with you, per se. some days he loves nothing more than to feel your wet skin against his, other days he needs his own space.

usually he loops his arms around your waist and pulls you close, letting the water hit his back as he hugs you. when he’s satisfied, he takes a step back to let you do whatever you need to do in the shower while he takes care of himself.

some days he’s the opposite of the above, way more affectionate throughout the whole process. his hands caress your body and occasionally his lips find yours and kiss you gently. then he’ll whine about getting soap in his mouth.

wooyoung

jung wooyoung is a very playful man and that extends into every activity, thank you very much.

of course, he constantly checks if you’re comfortable, asking before he touches you in any way. but once you give him the green light, he’s playfully flicking water at you. he can’t help but tease you.

he clings to you from behind while his hands slide all over you, mouthing at your neck and shoulders affectionately as you whine because you’re just trying to shower. but, really, you love him and whatever he’s doing. and for a moment you think the situation will take a turn, but then he’s pressing one last kiss to the back of your neck and smearing a dollop of bubbles on your cheek before he steps out, giggling as he wraps a towel around his waist and walks out of the bathroom while you’re left in the shower in bewilderment.

jongho

he’s not big on showering with you, either. but! he does like calming baths.

jongho specifically likes to light some candles in the bathroom before sinking into the warm water with you. you’re sat between his legs with your back pressed against his front, the dense bubbles concealing your intertwined bodies beneath the water.

it’s a really intimate atmosphere; bathing with you. his hands caress your waist, hips and thighs, underwater as his chin rests on his shoulders. neither of you say much, other than him humming little songs or muttering sweet nothings into your ear.

　　[ networks ... ] @cromernet @blankjournal

　　[ perm taglist — open ... ] @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb @seonghwasbbgirl @likexaxdaydream @dreamingofyeo

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zero-in-kyoto · 6 months ago

Note

please make headcannons about okarun as a boyfriend :3

GUYS OMG IM SO SORRYYYY

I’ve been so busy lately and I did get a lot of requests!! So I will be doing them asap, heheh!

(I got a lot for Takakura and Jiji so yeah those will be dropped soon!)

//———//

Tags: Lots of fluff, no use of Y/N or name, reader is just called “you”, suggested fem reader? (I can make another for male reader if asked!), mostly just focused on you two.

Okarun boyfriend headcanons

- He absolutely made the first move, but not on purpose at all.

- You were both fighting together and he ended up getting the wind knocked THE FUCK out of him, literally almost cried and said fuck this shit.

- Only jokes though, he would not actually leave.

- He would get up and continue trying to fight and attempt to protect you. All those times you were fighting together would resonate with him at this moment and he’d start going on a rant about how you make him feel.

- Him having a crush on you would be so obvious that it’s so hard to believe that he actually even like you and is trying to keep it secret.

- Will stare at you.

- Will continuously rant to you about sci-fy topics.

- Will insist on acting tough and like a gentleman to impress you. (He ends up looking really dumb but in a cute way)

- He would draw you a lot and one time you stumbled across a drawing and it was you as an alien and you genuinely didn’t know how to feel about it and he felt bad and felt scared to talk to you for the next few hours.

- He isn’t exactly the needy type, but after you get together he will need reassurance especially if you have close male friends.

- Absolutely hates being jealous in all senses but will absolutely fight for you if he feels the need.

- If you’re into stars and astrology type shit, he would make one of those solar system type projects for you but it would be so expertly made.

- As your boyfriend he would always want to get you little trinkets, like inexpensive things that remind him of you.

- If anyone talks shit about you, he will not tolerate it at all. You wouldn’t even have to tell him cause somehow he already knows. He’ll come out the shadow like he’s Batman ready to beat that ass up for justice.

- He would be more hesitant to let you get into dangerous type situations but he’s not controlling at all by any means, so he won’t stop you but will do what he can to help and protect you along the way.

-He would most likely not initiate a kiss first until like a bit into the relationship because he’d be worried about the timing but he’d gradually get more comfortable kissing and hugging you without asking if it’s alright like 1000000 times.

- if you go to school together, you would ask him for the homework answers and he’d be a smart ass and ask why you didn’t do it yourself. (He’d give them to you.

- Will get ALL UP in your ass (not literally. Not sus) if you aren’t taking care of yourself. He will scold you but his words most his words weigh heavy on your heart due to how concerned his voice will sound the whole time.

- One time he would stop wearing his glasses and when you ask about he would explain that he heard from one of your friends that you didn’t like boys with glasses. (SABOTAGING HOE👿.. GRRR)

- Probably wouldn’t really like PDA all that much but he would never be afraid of telling the whole world that you’re his lover and that he’s your boyfriend.

- If he found out anything other girls had a thing for him, he would immediately turn them down.

- He would NOT like his lover being jealous at all. Causing any pain to his partner physically or mentally would absolutely hurt.

- He would panic if you’re sick and try his best to take care of you.

- If you threw up in front of him, he would definitely throw up too.

- He will start to copy things you do and say after a while if you doing them without realizing and you ask him where he got it and he’d just say it’s something he picked up somewhere. (He doesn’t want you to think he’s making fun of you.)

- If yall were a meme, you’d be "I don't like them at all," Takakura says, then he suddenly tripped and fell to the ground, as multiple pictures of you fell out of his pockets. "Wait!" He cried out. "These aren't mine!"

- Would have a photo album of you both every time you went on any kind of adventure, all the pictures would be shitty and kind of blurred, but it’s definitely the thought that counts!!

ERM AND I THINKS THATS ALL FOR NOW. I MIGHT WRITE ANOTHER HEADCANON THINGY FOR HIM ANOTHER TIME IF YOU GUYS WANT!!

Tags: @taesy-miranda-lee @stefnarda

#okarun #reqs open #x reader #dandadan #dandadan jiji #ken takakura #jin enjoji #headcanon #okarun x reader

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midnightshindig · 3 months ago

Note

Hey👀👀 could we get some first kiss rex hc that are just emotional as hell?? Not necessarily angsty hes just feeling feelings😞🙏

Rex Splode x Reader: First Kiss

ughhhh i'm not over rex

also what the HELL Rudy

gonna deadname him forever sorry guys, not a biggot just a hater </3

hcs under the cut!

Rex is a nervous bitch

he hasnt really had a first kiss he's cared that much about since he was fourteen with Eve

and even then he was fourteen so he didn't really know how big of a deal it was

BUT this is post-lobotomy Rex

and he really likes you

and he can't mess this up

he can't "Rex it up" as Amanda lovingly put it when he begged her for help

"Pleaaase Amanda- you're a woman- kinda- you know about this romance junk!" he pressed his palms into prayer and knelt at her, shuffling towards her comedically as she rolled her eyes

"First-!" she shoved a pointed finger into his face "Don't call romance 'junk', it's annoying."

Amanda sighed a long, heavy sigh, and pinched her temple

"And two, I'm calling in reinforcements."

two hours later Rex is in his room with Mark, Eve, William, Amanda, and Rudy all piled in

Rex isn't sure why William OR Rudy are there, but he figures more the merrier

"ooookay." William starts, leaning onto his propped up knee "You've been seeing this person for how long?"

Rex swallowed his spit nervously "uhm... we've been like talking and going on dates and shit for a few weeks- uhhh..." he starts counting on his fingers before Rudy cuts him off

"Rex and Y/n have been mutually exclusive for two months and three days."

Eve's jaw goes slack "Two months?! Rex what the hell?" her scolding is teasing yet bewildered, a playful hand gesturing from its place around Mark's shoulder "Just kiss them already, why are you being a wuss?"

Rex buries his head in his hands, overwhelmed by the overlapping conversation and criticism as the room erupts into dialogue

"I JUST-" he calls out, quieting the room

"I want to make it memorable. And... special."

His face is on fire

he's blushing so hard it hurts

Okay now they HAVE to help him figure this out

so three hours of brainstorming and meticulous planning-- some light lunch and snacking-- later, Rex has a game plan

Everyone shuffles out of his room as quietly as they can, except for Eve, who tells Mark she'll catch up in just a minute

The door closes them into the same space, alone

"Oh, uh... what's up, Eve?" Rex's shoulders tensed as he took in Eve's serious expression and folded arms

She broke out in a small smile "Do you really like this person, Rex? Like you're not going to cheat and be a dick?"

He nodded a small, but intentional nod. Intimidated as fuck by his ex-girlfriend.

She responded by rushing forward and pulling him into a bone crushing hug

"oOoooo I'm so excited for you" she pulled him closer, as he slowly wrapped his arms around her in return

"Ha- Thanks, Eve. I appreciate it."

Eve pulled back and stared into his eyes intensely "Don't freak out, just be yourself, okay? I'm so happy for you, Rex."

As they separated and Eve made her way out, Rex flopped back onto his bed

He'd just received the blessing of his only true friend, this couldn't possibly go wrong.

A few days later, and you're reading in your room

a slip of paper came under the door

"Hm?" you set your book down and went to retrieve it

It was a crude drawing of the two of you-- yourself and Rex-- in the mountains?

It was hard to tell

he was not a good artist.

Regardless, you opened the door to find another piece of paper

and another

all littered with doodle of the two of you, tracing through the GotG HQ to the "back door" so to speak

"Rex?" You inquired cautiously, fearful it may be a trap

"Hey!"

you flung around and caught Rex's nose in a high kick, before realizing your mistake and covering your mouth in surprise

"Ah!! Rex!! fuck- I'm so sorry!"

Rex hit the snowy floor like a crumbled piece of paper, holding his bruised nose and trying to shake it off

"iiiii'm good! I'm fine! Wuh-uhh... fuuuuck." He steadied himself by leaning onto you a little, wrapping an arm around you

You assessed the situation, thankfully not having broken his nose

"Oh Rex, I'm so sorry... and after all your hard work with those drawings.... is there anything I can do to help?"

"You can kiss it better."

The silence was thick with romantic tension, and you stared at him wide eyed while he stared back in abject horror-- at himself, not you

"No-NO! FUck- this wasn't- Ugh! Stupid- Stupid0" he groaned, sitting in the snow and leaning against the GHQ

You looked down at him, confused

He just held his bruised face in his hands "That's not how it was supposed to go."

Carefully, you sat next to him in the thick, powdery snow.

"How what was supposed to go?" you placed a loving hand on his upper arm

Rex leaned into your touch, eventually leaning his head onto your shoulder "I wanted to say all this shit about how much you mean to me- and how much of a better person I want to be for you, and all this stuff..." he pulled out snow-soggied crumpled notecards, passing the ball of paper to you as you deciphered key phrases and bullet points

He sighed again, nuzzling into your shoulder "Iwanted our firstkiss tobe special, yknow?" he looked up at you with the saddest eyes, obviously welling with tears "You deserve that much."

Now it was your turn to blush so hard it hurt

or maybe it was the cold.

"R-Rex- I don't... I mean..."

the longer you trailed off the louder the thumping in Rex's chest got

eventually, though, you spit it out

With a warm affect "Rex, you're so perfect."

and you leaned down, kissing his lips gently

He reacted swiftly, bringing his hand to your cheek, warmth bringing solace and comfort to the bitter cold threatening to permeate your layers the longer the two of you sat in the snow.

The kiss lasted what felt like forever

but in reality it was maybe three minutes

You noticed Rex opening and closing his eyes, to check if you were still there

When you finally had to part lips, Rex sifted himself up to be level with you, allowing him to wrap an arm around your shoulder and pull your head to his chest

"I really like you, Y/n. And I want to be a good guy for you."

"You are a good guy, you're the best guy I could ask for."

"No. I'm not. But don't worry, babe." his humorous tone crept back into the serious situation, easing the tension a little

"I'm going to be."

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heartz4shauna · 4 days ago

Text

wilderness ( girlfriend ) shauna hcs ˎˊ˗

warnings : ( ♯6 ) fem reader . toxic ! shauna . season 3 shauna . physical touch . mentions of jackieshauna . canon divergence .

wilderness shauna who » hates how hopeful you are

she doesn’t really mean to be such a debby downer , but it’s hard to keep spirits up out there . besides , it’s easier for her to get what she wants from you when you’re upset . when you bring up in conversation how you’re gonna get your life together once you get rescued , she gives a scoff and rolls her eyes . you ask her “what ?” and she mumbles a “nothing . i just can’t believe you still think we’re getting rescued . c’mon , it’s been months .”

and you can’t deny that . things were getting worse , and not just between the two of you . she’s gotten more controlling , even , despite being free from everything else . she barged into your shared hut after dark one night , arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed . you could already tell by her expression and heaving breaths it wasn’t gonna be good news . “what did you say to hannah ?” is what she spits out . of course , you can’t remember . so , you give a little shrug and a shake of your head . “i dunno , uh . .” all she could do is stare at you , awaiting your answer . “i’ll help you jog your memory . about going home ? getting rescue ? how hunting’s been going good ? why would you tell her ?” you’re confused . were you not supposed to tell hannah about your hopes of getting rescue ? did shauna think hannah would try to sabotage getting help ? when you don’t tell her why you were speaking to her , she huffs . “it’s whatever , just don’t talk to her again , alright ?” and who are you to deny your leader ?

wilderness shauna who » needs her hands on you

to her , you’re simply something to toy with , something to keep her busy . she’s needed that for a while . the only person who she could play around with was jackie , and . . everyone knows how that went .

in group settings , she very rarely used to look at you , but now , it’s like a switch was flipped in her brain . her mindset is easy to understand , really . “i probably won’t live for much longer , fuck it .”

her idea of touching you is usually tugging you by the sleeve of your shirt , or by the belt loop on your shorts . she doesn’t care to be gentle with anyone , when no one’s gentle with her . she’ll accept a hug from you , but only if it’s from behind . it’s easier to imagine you as jackie that way .

she’ll only kiss you if she’s the one to initiate it . she needs to feel in charge among all the chaos . it’s grounding for her . she’d see you sitting around , probably chatting with someone , when she comes over and grabs your hand , rushing out of the camp . “wha- where are we going ?” you ask her , stumbling behind the brunette , barely catching your breath . “you’ll see .”

when you finally arrive at your destination , she’s already pushing you against a tree , or to the ground . she hates to say it , but she’s desperate . her hands are glued to your waist and neck the entire time , giving neither of you enough room to breathe . her hands are hot , aggressive and her kiss is bruising . it hurts , but you can’t complain when your body is buzzing all over .

wilderness shauna who » has such a sarcastic personality

before the drawing of the cards , you’re panicking . can you be blamed ? your entire life is on the line , but that’s not exactly unusual , considering the circumstances . you’re sat on an old animal hide , practicing your breathing exercises that your guidance counsellor taught you when you were an anxious freshman. then , shauna steps in , so quietly it startles you when you look up to see that it’s her . “what’s up with you ?” she asks , glaring down at you with a smug look on her face . “shauna , what if it’s me ? what if i get the card ?” and shauna , being great at dissolving situations , replies “well , what if it’s me ? huh ? big deal .” and when that doesn’t wipe the disgustingly nervous expression off your face , she sighs . “look , if it’s you . . i promise i’ll kill you quickly and get it over with , ‘kay ?” she chuckles , raising an eyebrow , then walks out , leaving you no less anxious than you were before .

wilderness shauna who » is a chronic clothes stealer

to her , not one item of yours is yours anymore . she has claimed all of your stuff long before you even realised . so , when she finds you in a shirt that you own , or wearing a headband with your name written on the tag , she won’t stay quiet about it . “that’s my shirt .” she states . you look down , and sure enough , it’s your shirt . one that you bought in ‘95 for a trip to miami . “what are you talking about ? this is mine .” and she shakes her head , a slight frown on her lips . “no , uh , it’s mine . you don’t remember ? i wore it on the flight .” and you know she definitely did not . she wore that flannel . “just- look , i wanna wear it .” she finally says , holding her hand out . you’re surprised . “even trade . i’ll give you my shirt if you give me that one .” she says , gesturing vaguely towards you . “fine .”

once you’ve given her your shirt , and you hers , she’s basically decided that you share everything . she owns everything you own . and you . there’s no way of escaping her now .

wilderness shauna who » is the biggest bitch on planet earth and you still want her .

LISTENING TO : mx by deftones . rivet gun by mother soki .

#daisy writes again #shauna shipman #yellowjackets #shauna shipman x reader #shauna shipman headcanons #toxic!shauna #toxic!shauna x reader #shauna shipman x you

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regretisstoredintheme · 1 month ago

Note

Hi! I saw your requests were (tentatively) open and wanted to (tentatively) put something in. I was wondering if you could do any/all (seperately) Of the rise boys with an S/O who happy-stims by like- punching themself, if that makes sense. Like they get really excited at something and start punching their leg as a way to get the excitement out lol

Sorry if this makes so sense, I've never requested before and English isn't my first language on top of that, I'm running off caffeine and autocorrect :') and if you dont wanna do this that's fine! I just wanted to put it out there lol <3

Rise!Turtles x Reader who hits themself while stimming

A/N: no you’re all good!! It made sense! To be honest, I also have stims like that LMAO in any case, this was fun to write! Thank you for the (tentative) request! Also a small note, in these headcanons, all the turtles here know what stimming is!

Raphala:

- I imagine he progressively grows more concerned

- He doesn’t even see you do it the first time he hears about it, you’re simply wearing shorts or something and he notices the bruise(s) on your thigh.

- “What the hell did that? You okay?”

- He tries not to be overbearing. he knows his brothers don’t take kindly to how he tends to mother people

- But when you describe it to him, he’s quietly mortified.

- “Hit yourself?” The blood drains from his face.

- You assure him it’s nothing, you do it all the time!

- And he.. pretends to believe you? But he makes that face— where his brows scrunch and his sideway smile shows most of his snaggletooth, as if he can’t quite force it. You know he very much doesn’t.

- To be honest I can imagine him having some sort of idea why you do it, I could see him doing something very similar when he’s laughing a lot

- “Knee-slapper” yk

- But it’s never bruised him, and the more he watches you, the more often he notices you do it. More often than he does.

- He’s not the type to bring it up, he’s the type to coincidentally hold your hands or your arm whenever you get excited or stressed about something. Or placing a pillow on your lap— or even laying his head on your legs, propped up by his arms.

- Part of him is hoping you’ll take to playfully hitting HIM rather than yourself. He can take it! He’s made for war!

- He knows how hard it is to NOT stim, so he’s totally fine with you doing something to replace it or even getting the energy out by struggling in his hold

- but he HATES seeing bruises on you, or seeing you wince when you get up.

- And he’ll stand by his opinion if you ask.

Miketastic!

- unlike Raph, Mikey IMMEDIATELY tells you his quarrel with it.

- The first time he sees it, it’s once while praising a drawing of his or a meal he made you, and he gives you ONE trial of grace— maybe it was an accident!

- The second time you do it, he’s on you like salt on tomatoes. Asking, maybe even prodding— needing to understand. If you’re the type to brush it off, he won’t let up until you answer.

- He makes sure not to judge, mentally taking notes and asking questions

- But honestly, he doesn’t approve of it.

- He doesn’t care if you’re strong! It’s a bad way to dispense energy! He knows the build-up of light damage could possibly impact your legs in the future.

- And so, he sets to making sure you break the habit.

- He doesn’t want you to stop being excited, far from it! In fact he sits you down right then and there and talks about other things you could do with your energy.

- If he’s there, pick him up and spin him around! Or try to! Hug him as hard as you can, he loves feeling how excited/happy you are. If it’s an anxious thing, he’s your stress toy! he likes knowing he could help give you an outlet when you’re feeling stressed.

- He’s happy to let you hit a table at first as long as it’s not your leg, or he’s happy to grab your hands and pull on each other until you get the excitement out!

- Other than that, he also makes sure you’re eating well. He can’t be around all the time, so if you hit yourself in excitement while he’s gone, he’ll make sure you’re not bruising easily.

- He’s happy to make fantastic meals for you!

Leoser

- The first time he sees it, it’s when he’s joking and maybe even playfully flirting with you. His eyes widen when he sees how aggressively you’re hitting your leg.

- It shocks him at first, he didn’t think he was THAT funny

- He makes a single comment, but otherwise reserves his thinking to himself.

- “Woah, I know the joke was good, but it’s no reason to practice boxing over there!”

- He laughs and brushes it off, but it’s on his radar now.

- He won’t do anything if it’s not common, and especially if it doesn’t seem to be actually bothering you.

- In fact, he finds it rather cute that you can’t help yourself, he adores seeing you get excited.

- If he happens to get worried, he’s one to sweep you off your feet, interrupting the motion. He’s happy to avert the habit!

- He NEVER breaks the mood, though, not his style. He wants to keep the fun going! He’s wordless in how he changes the stim.

- “Let’s dance!”

- Your favorite band is playing, and he can tell you’re excited with the energy in your bones, why not get out those jitters?

- He may even lightly hit your shoulder to encourage you hitting him as well, he finds it adorable and he can hardly feel it.

- It’s fun when you’re just playing around, right? Cmon, hit him back, you know you want to…!

Dee

- He’s a pretty bombastic partner, he tries to make you amazed in any way he can, despite also trying to keep a cool, low-key demeanor.

- He didn’t think he’d be so successful!

- Donnie watches you hit your leg, wincing to himself as he feels the vibration of the impact from all the way where he’s standing

- He doesn’t want you to stop getting excited around him, ESPECIALLY because of him

- Don gets to thinking of how he can help. He’s the invention guy, surely he could think of something that would help with the stim

- His first thought is armor you can wear on your legs, or maybe padding you can hit to your hearts content, but he doesn’t think it would be too comfortable

- He decides (because he’s so generous) that he’ll make you hand-manufactured (by him) personalized stim devices!

- He specifically makes ones that are FOR redirecting pain stims.

- Like one of those rollers with spikes on them you can rub between your hands, which are harmless and can’t break skin

- He sprinkles these ‘gifts’ throughout your time together, as if it was simply something he was trying out, not for you, obviously.

- You’ll tell him how good the prototypes are, yeah? Give him your honest review! No take backs!

- Overall, though, he’s just happy you’re comfortable enough to stim around him.

- That’s all that matters.

—-

A/N: I DID take a more serious route with this I think??? I hope that’s ok! I don’t mean to shame anyone who has stims like this, I just know it can lead to bruising and I don’t see any of these characters taking kindly to that. I didn’t mean to make it sound so severe 😓

#rottmnt #rottmnt x reader #leo x reader #regrettable writing #tmnt #tmnt x reader #leonardo x reader #donnie x reader #Mikey X reader #rottmnt mikey x reader #rise mikey x reader #rise donnie x reader #rise donatello x reader #rise raph x reader #raphael x reader #rise tmnt x reader #rise leo x reader #rise x reader #rottmnt x you

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lambmurdock · 3 days ago

Text

m. murdock

content warnings: stalking, allusions to violence and assault, MDNI

wc: 1,041

notes: (divider by @cursed-carmine)

dedicated to: @upended-jellyfish i couldn't have written this without your help, your encouragement, and the fact that you gave me the idea in the first place haha. i appreciate you so much!! <3

Even though your crazy ex-boyfriend was currently lying half beaten to death in an alley, you were still shaking, terrified. You didn’t really have anyone else in the city, your ex had isolated you from all your friends, and you were never close with your family in the first place. So, going home alone was the last thing you wanted.

So when you ask Daredevil to watch over you on your way home, just to make sure nothing else happens to you, he couldn’t say no. Not with you looking up at him, eyes wide, tears streaming down your face quicker than you can brush away.

He takes you home that night, says goodnight outside your apartment building, and even lets you hug him. You thank him and pray that he knows how much you mean it, that he knows just how grateful you really are. He listens as you walk away, up the stairs, and follows you with his senses until you reach your apartment. He waits until you’ve locked the door before slipping away, calling it a night and going home.

Over the next few days, he finds you running across his mind more often than not. The way your shampoo invaded his senses as you hugged him that night. The cadence of your voice as you spoke–a siren song to him, drawing his thoughts back to you when they slipped back to the things he should be thinking about–his work, his friends, his life.

You’re an itch he has to scratch. And so he does. He goes back to your apartment one night after his patrol, sneaking in and watching over you as you sleep. He tells himself it’s just to check up on you, a one-off just to see how you are.

But it happens again.

And again.

Until one day, it becomes a part of his routine, coming to see you after his patrols to watch over you. He doesn’t notice at first how your presence becomes a crutch for him, a way to ground himself after a long day or a hard patrol. He comes to you thinking he’s seen the worst of humanity and like some sort of angel, and without even meaning to, you show him that there’s still light in the world. You had become his anchor.

—

Just as you’re about to close your eyes, you see it—a movement in the shadows. You let out a scream as you sit up, scrambling to turn the bedside lamp on. Your breathing’s choppy as you turn back around. You glance around the space, and just like that, it’s gone. Everything’s still. No monsters are lurking in the corners of your room.

Maybe you hallucinated it. Or maybe it was your imagination, just your mind playing tricks on you in the dark. Besides, why would anyone be in your apartment? Why would anyone bother with you? You weren’t anyone special. You were a nobody.

It didn’t matter anyway. No one was there. So you disregard it, lie back down, curl the blanket under your chin, and you go back to sleep.

But it happens again.

And again.

Until one day, it becomes a part of your routine, the darkness playing games with you like a nighttime ritual. As regular as brushing your teeth or making sure the front door is locked. For some reason, Matt took it as a sign from God, you always forgot to lock the windows. He thought maybe you were careless on purpose, that deep down you wanted the devil to come into your home, even if you didn’t know it yet.

Secretly, you liked having your own little shadow. It was a small comfort to imagine you had some quiet company. Something that couldn’t judge you or perceive you, but who still stayed by your side on those cold nights in the big city. Something that you couldn’t push away or let slip through your fingers. Something that was unconditionally yours.

—

You’re asleep by the time he gets there tonight. He doesn’t have to wait before sneaking in, opening your living room window, and climbing in with a practiced ease. He closes it behind himself and heads to your bedroom, his footsteps silent.

He stands in the far corner, breathing in your scent. It’s much stronger in here. It bleeds from your skin and onto your sheets, seeping into the air. He lets out the breath he took in, and as always, the tension in his shoulders releases. Your steady heartbeat like a lullaby as he makes himself comfortable in the darkness of your room.

—

You wake up in a cold sweat, tears streaming down your cheeks as you sob, desperately gasping for air. Your hands clutch the sheets, knuckles turning white, shaking. You can’t fully recall the nightmare anymore. It’s already lost in the limbo between dreams and reality. The only thing left–a hollow pit in your stomach, like walking down a flight of stairs and missing the last one.

Matt listens as you cry, hears as your heart practically beats out of your chest. The sound hits his ears harder than any of the blows he took tonight. You need him right now. He could chase away your fears, keep you safe and tucked up in his arms from everything that would ever dare to hurt you. So he moves towards you, slow and steady, like approaching a wounded animal. You don’t notice he’s there until the bed dips and his arms wrap around you.

Your sobs turn into muffled screams as he puts his gloved hand over your mouth, shushing you quietly.

“It’s me. Sweetheart, it’s me.” He lets you turn around to look at him. It takes you a second to recognise him in the dark, your screams subsiding as he pulls his hand away from your mouth.

Your eyes widen as you take him in. Despite your shock, your body relaxes, breath comes to you more easily. Your heartbeat less a pounding in his ears now and more like a hyperactive kitten pawing at the furniture.

“Daredevil? W-what are you..?”

His hand strokes over your hair gently, his voice dangerously soft, “You asked me to watch over you. Don’t you remember?”

#matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock x reader #daredevil #my writing #murdock circle

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cheolhub · 2 years ago

Text

MEANT TO BE YOURS — JEON WONWOO ࿐

summary. lying to your boyfriend about being sexually experienced has you stressed beyond belief. it’s a good thing your roommate— aka your best friend— is always there to help you out of every sticky situation.

wc. 7.2k+

warnings. [PLEASE READ THESE!] slight yandere themes (tame obsession, possessiveness, mentions of k1lling reader’s bf, etc.), corruption kink, virginity loss, f. masturbation, cheating (don’t do this), perv!wonu, NEEDY, DESPERATE dom!wonwoo, fingering, heavy praise, pet names (a lot ^^), very light degradation, so much dirty talk (literal filth), unprotected sex, size kink (if u blink, u miss it), kinda angsty ending (oops) — MINORS DNI 18+

note. ok so it’s finally here :p a few things— happy birthday wonwoo, my beloved <3 thank u keir @jeonghantis for reading this over for me, always reassuring me and being my literal rock. i luv u so so much ^^ lastly, this contains cheating which i do NOT condone, nor do i want to glamorize it. it’s simply for the sake of the plot. oj that’s all <3 i worked hard so pls enjoy it >< (if u dont, u should just lie to me anyway)

you were perfect. so sweet and so innocent. you were a doll in the eyes of wonwoo, with skin so smooth against his calloused hands and a smile so perfect, he can’t help but melt at the sight of it.

his adoration for you was obviously in moderation, he’s a sensible man after all. it’s not like he’d stand over you while you sleep and watch the way your barely-clothed chest rises up and falls down so enticingly or fuck his fist and imagine it’s your tight-virgin cunt milking him for all he’s worth or steal a pair of lace panties and absolutely ruin them. you’re his best friend not to mention his roommate. he can’t do things like that— it’s wrong.

so why does it feel so fucking good to imagine how sweet your moans would sound while he fucks you senseless, “wonwoo! wonwoo!”

wonwoo maintains his cool even in the most unfavorable moments. when you leave your shared bathroom with nothing but a towel wrapped around your chest, when you walk around in silky night shorts, when you press your tits flush against him every time you give him a hug— it’s too much sometimes.

he can't be angry, though, it’s not like you know any better.

just like how you don't know how loud you’re being when you have one dainty little finger shoved inside your sopping pussy. he watches through the tiny crack of your door with his bottom lip lodged between his teeth, just slight of drawing blood. he sees how your eyes are screwed shut and your back is arched as you inconsistently try to fuck a single finger in and out of you.

the room is filled with desperate huffs and moans, bouncing between the four walls of his old gaming room; it all rushes straight to wonwoo’s cock.

you sound so needy and he can tell you’re growing frustrated at the lack of results. you’re craving release, he can tell–

and he wants to help you. so bad.

he has to, right? that’s his job as a dutiful best friend— taking care of his pretty girl. plus, it’s not like he’s really doing anything wrong. he likes to think he’s just doing you a huge favor.

he steps away from the door before knocking quietly, hearing the halt in moans and jostling of the white bedsheets he’s memorized the scent of. he stifles a laugh, imagining how hot your face must be knowing that you’re easily flustered.

“just a second!” you pant and he’s so caught up in thought that he almost misses your soft voice, “okay…you can come in.” it’s as if you’re embarrassed, but you have no reason to be. it’s just him, your roommate. your best friend. your wonwoo.

he finds that he was right. as soon as he walked in, he noticed your embarrassed face and he could almost feel the heat radiating from your body.

“won?”

his cock throbs in his loose plaid pajama pants at the name you had given him ages ago. “Y/N, i-i just wanted to check on you… heard noises when i was passing by your room,”

“oh…” you mumble, gripping the comforter covering your body. you’re sheepish, shrugging at his concern. “thought you were out with gyu.”

your words are barely audible. you’re too humiliated to tell him what you were doing and, not to mention, how you were probably, most likely doing it incorrectly.

“nah,” he shakes his head, reverting the conversation back to the massive elephant in the room. “anything on your mind?” he tries, moving to sit on the bed next to you.

you sigh, cracking the unfazed facade you wore. tears form on your lash line; you’re beyond embarrassed. mortified, if you will. this is probably the worst possible thing to happen in all your years of living.

no, this is the worst thing to happen to you in all your years of living– nothing will ever beat you getting caught masturbating incorrectly by your best friend.

“wonwoo…” you sniffle and he immediately stiffens at the unanticipated sound. “i just… my… boyfriend wants to start doing stuff with me and i lied ‘n told him that i’ve done stuff before, but i haven’t ‘n—“

“hey…breathe, Y/N,” he shushes, reaching over to wipe the tears from your eyes. as much as he’s concerned with your feelings, he can’t help but pause—boyfriend? since when did you have a fucking boyfriend? he knew you were going on dates and meeting guys, and of course he didn’t like it, but he thought they were flings that would eventually fizzle out. why wasn’t he aware of this dick? his chest bubbles with newfound jealousy and discontent. without a doubt, he’d kill the first ill-mannered fucker he saw put his hands on you.

however, he plays dumb to hide the fact. “what type of stuff are we talking about?”

you bite back a whine, a small pout forming on your face, “you know what stuff, won, don’t make me say it.”

he chuckles, airily, shaking his head. yes, of course he knows, but he wants to hear you say it. wants to hear you say filthy things with your innocent voice that he simply can’t get enough of. “i don’t know what you’re going on about. for all i know, we could be talking about drugs,”

you let out a giggle, playfully smacking his shoulder. “no!” you tell him and he gives you an expectant look. one that screams tell me.

your laughter dies down and you fall silent for a few seconds. you inhale sharply, “wonwoo… he… he wants to have sex with me,” you mutter, completely catching him off guard. “and i lied about having experience… i’ve never even touched myself,” you say unwarranted, feeling your cheeks heat up in mortification once again. you hide your face in your hands after exposing yourself to your more-mature, experienced best friend. “god, i’m such a loser,”

“hey, don’t say that. there’s nothing wrong with being inexperienced. none of that’s important if you love someone.” the same way he loves you. “plus, a lot of guys like inexperienced girls.” he murmurs, mostly speaking for himself, though the only inexperienced girl– girl, in general– he likes is you.

a sigh escapes your lips at his words, “but… i don’t wanna be inexperienced. i wanna know what i’m doing and how to do it right…i wish i was more like you,” you frown, removing your hands to look at him, confusion prevalent on his face. “you seem like you’re so good at everything when it comes to… that…kinda stuff…”

his throat dries, “h-how would you even know that?”

“well, i mean…you’re not exactly the quietest, wonwoo,”

wonwoo is shocked, honestly. he knew he had a handful of hookups and one night stands, but he never thought you would’ve known that.

besides, he always imagined them to be you riding him, crying for him. as much as he loves getting his dick wet, he would never see another girl again if it meant even one chance with you.

it's a stretch. a big one, but if he could give you the earth, he would– in a single heartbeat with no hesitation whatsoever. “well… then do you want me to maybe… show you? what it’s like…? give you a good first experience?”

your body freezes and your eyes widen like a deer caught in headlights. sure, you’ve always found your best friend attractive, but you figured that couldn’t be helped. you knew you never had a chance, not when he had an endless line of girls who would do anything for just one night with him.

wonwoo is the definition of womanizer, he always has been. for as long as you could remember, girls would throw themselves at him and praise him like he was some kind of god. in some ways, you thought he was.

in all fairness, he was gorgeous and tall and strong. a catch, as some girls would say. he smelled good, too. so good it makes your head spin and your body flood with heat. and he had that rare smile– the one he’d only show the ones he loved– and it was blindingly beautiful. it was a smile that made you feel blessed. a smile that made you feel lucky because you were always on the receiving end– wonwoo always smiled at you.

he never pursued as many girls as you thought he would have. you always figured that’s what guys liked– all of the girls fawning over them– but wonwoo was so different. he didn’t like the attention that much, but, unfortunately for him, that’s what comes with being as handsome as he is.

you knew he was out of your league. he was everything a girl would want and what were you in a sea of girls? a sea of girls with loads of experience and confidence, for that matter.

you were just lucky to have him in your life because he really was such a good friend. he’s always been so protective of you since he met you all those years ago through a mandatory math tutoring session. nothing could ruin the image you have of him– not even the ear-splitting moans of the girls he fucks. you want nothing but for him to be your friend forever.

and maybe you have imagined… once or twice… what it would be like to be one of the obnoxiously loud girls in his bed, but that didn’t mean you wanted it… did it?

you try to play it off to see if he was pulling another one of his typical stunts on you. “wonwoo, this isn’t funny—“

“i‘m being serious,” he says so earnestly, leaning into you, the proximity between the two of you quickly closing. you feel like you should pull back, tell him to stop, kick him out— anything— but you just can’t. “lemme help you, sweetheart… i‘ll show you how to feel good,” his minty breath fans over your face.

your body twitches, feeling a soft pulse in your lower region when the familiar pet name falls from his lips. your pace of breath quickens along with your heartbeat.

“is…isn’t this wrong?” you ask. you want to scold your brain for wanting to do this with your best friend whom you live with. not to mention the fact that you also have a boyfriend.

yes, you think, this is totally and completely wrong.

he shakes his head, “it’s not, promise, ‘m just helping a friend out… only if you’ll let me,” his voice hushes to a whisper as his hand pulls the comforter off your body, a large hand moving to take a hold of your waist, the other on your bare thigh extremely close to the thin pink fabric of your absolutely-soiled panties.

you’re left panting at the little contact, skin itching for even more. “wonwoo…” you whisper and it’s absolutely desperate. “wonwoo, w-what will i tell him?”

he feels his blood boil and he has to keep from snapping at the mere mention of that son of a bitch. he doesn’t even know him and, even still, he wants to bash his head in. “you don’t have to tell him anything,” he responds to you sweetly despite how angry and desperate he is.

you won’t have to do a thing. he’ll take care of everything for you, especially that boyfriend of yours.

you contemplate your options, but it’s getting harder to have a coherent thought with his warm hand being so incredibly close to your needy pussy.

wonwoo is just helping you, he even said it himself. if anything, he’s getting you out of the sticky situation you made for yourself.

and so you nod your head, whimpering out the words. “okay wonwoo… please help me,”

unbeknownst to you, wonwoo was hoping you’d say that. hoping you’d let him help you stretch you out (not for your boyfriend, but for him). help you take his cock. help you cum all over him and corrupt your pretty body. he’ll help you leave your boyfriend and realize that wonwoo is all you’ll need. all you’ll want. all you’ll know. he’ll help you, his best friend, his pretty girl, his fucking dream.

your words trigger something in his brain and it’s all he needs before closing the gap between the two of you. the way he practically pounces on you and slots your lips together, it’s similar to a predator going after its prey.

it’s apparent you’re not as skilled as him as your lips struggle to keep up, whimpering at how rough he was being. you open your mouth a little bit to tell him to slow down, but instead, he pushes his tongue inside and explores the warmth and wetness of your mouth.

and he can’t slow down. he can usually keep his composure and control himself, but you don’t even know how long he’s been waiting for this moment. if only you knew the perverted things your best friend had done without your knowledge, there’s no way you’d let him anywhere near you. he can’t stop, tongue inspecting every inch of your mouth until he feels your hands press flat against his chest in an attempt to push him away.

your swollen lips turn into a pout staring into his eyes filled with hunger and desire. “won,” you say, a lilt to your angelic voice. fuck, is all wonwoo can think as he finally realizes how hard and leaky his cock is after all this time. “can’t keep up…”

he almost feels bad, but every time he feels remorse it’s overshadowed by the burning desire to hear you, feel you, see you cum… just for him, not your silly little boyfriend, that fucking asshole. he needs you to be his.

“‘m sorry, pretty girl,” he pants, hands inching up your upper thigh. “i‘ll slow down, yeah?” his voice drips with desperation and, god, you feel your pussy flooding with more of your warm arousal.

you nod, leaning into him again, pressing a kiss against his lips. his lips are soft as they mold into yours, nothing like what you’re used to. you couldn’t even compare wonwoo’s lips to anything– not even your boyfriend.

you feel heat course your veins. everything is so hot, the room feels like it’s on fire. when did it get so hot? you want to hide in his neck, in your pillow, in something, but wonwoo gives you no room to be shy.

the intrusive thoughts are cut short when you feel his warm hand slide into your panties, a deep gasp escaping your lips. his fingers quickly find your hardened clit, untouched and desperate for attention. the initial touch has shockwaves jolting through your body and you swear you won’t be able to survive anything more than that.

you part your lips from him as his two fingers rub swift circles into your clit, timid whines and moans erupting from your chest and your eyes practically taped shut as you feel his burning gaze on your face. it’s when your hips unintentionally begin to move, grinding into his hand, softly moaning his name out, “wonwoo!” that he loses it.

“fuck,” he mutters, removing his hand and watching your face of pleasure turn into complete shock. he ignores your whiny protests, gently pushing you to lay on your back. “shhh, baby, trust me. gonna make you feel so fuckin’ good, don’t you worry.”

his hands peel the panties off you, rolling them off your legs and inspecting them– they’re new. you don’t need to know that he knows, though. especially since he is the reason you needed to get more.

nonetheless, he tosses them to the side. you’re sure if your judgment wasn’t clouded by the new overwhelming craving you have for pleasure, your body would burn in humiliation due to being exposed to your best friend. the same best friend who’s always been there for you and seen you at your very worst, yet continues to be there for you when you need him.

with hearts in his eyes, he stares at your glistening cunt, “jesus christ,” he murmurs, “prettiest fucking pussy in the world, might have to keep you all to myself.” he knows the words are going through one ear and out the other, but the way you moan and arch your back for a single touch eggs him on.

“wonwoo,” you whimper softly.

“yes, baby, what do you need?” he knows exactly what you need. you need him to rub your clit, press his fingers into your tight pussy and open you up, and you especially need him to tell you how well you’re doing– he fucking knows, but he needs to hear you say it. he needs your pretty little mouth to tell him.

you pant, pussy getting wetter by the second solely off the pet names and wonwoo’s voice alone. “need you to help me like you promised… please help me…”

and he can’t resist when you sound so needy. he’s 99% sure he could cum untouched just at the sight of you under him with tears in your eyes while you beg for him to touch you. you’re so perfect, so so perfect and he doesn't understand how no one has taken you away from him yet.

“you want my fingers, sweetheart? want me to help you open up this pretty cunt for my cock?” he asks hotly, leaning in closer to your body.

you gasp at his words, your leaky hole clenching around nothing. “god, yes, yes, wonwoo, yes,” you nod your head vigorously, shyness fleeing your body as you're taken over by pure need. “please gimme your fingers.”

he smirks at your words and his dick twitches at the request. he knows this moment will replay in his head during every second of the day till he can have you like this again.

“good girl,” he whispers, pressing a peck to your swollen lips and keens when you chase him for another with a whimper. “brace yourself for me… might sting a little, but it’ll feel really good after a while. tell me if you need me to stop, hmm?”

you nod your head, stomach swirling with endless amounts of anticipation. the calloused pad of his thumb finds your clit, rubbing into it once more. you figure it’s to distract you from the feeling of his lengthy digit pressing into your hole.

a whine erupts from your throat at the tiny stretch that stings throughout your body. you take a deep breath, trying to relax as wonwoo pushes the finger in and out at a slow and steady pace.

“doing so well for me, pretty. promise it’ll feel good when you get used to it,” he reassures with a tight-lipped smile as if he’s getting ready to burst at any given moment.

that’s probably because he is. watching your tight pussy swallow his finger and wrap so nicely around him has him reeling. he thinks about what it’d be like to watch his cock disappear inside of you, for your velvet walls to wrap around him like you were made just for his cock.

luckily, the sting fades away sooner than you thought it would, just as wonwoo had promised. your tiny whimpers of pain were soon replaced by pleasured moans, and he can tell that you’re ready for more of his fingers.

he pulls out his middle finger to bring two of them together. you gasp in surprise feeling the pads of his two fingers circle at your entrance before they push their way inside of you.

it hurts more than the first finger, you have to admit, but you take him in easily with the amount of arousal that pools out of your pussy. you pant, whines dying on your tongue as you feel the burning stretch. you don’t tell him to stop, though, not like you’d want to.

wonwoo’s close to losing it. he can feel the way you clench around his fingers, almost like you're trying to push him out but suck him in at the same time. you’re so fucking tight and he thinks he must be in heaven. you’re the last thing he deserves, yet here you are, swallowing his big fingers in your pretty, virgin cunt.

he gradually spreads his fingers, opening you up and the experimental move has you moaning. “that feel alright?” he asks almost breathlessly.

you give him a broken nod, “feels weird… b-but good.” you attempt to inform.

you’re sheepish for a few minutes as he’s slowly scissoring his fingers inside of you, but the question comes out before your hazy mind can fully comprehend. “c-can you try three?” it comes out a bit slurred and timid, but wonwoo understands. he completely understands.

he wants, so badly, to fuck you stupid. to the point where you don’t know how to speak. he wants to call you his greedy slut for wanting more even though it makes him see red. he opts out, though, not wanting your first time to be tainted with degrading words because he knows you’re good. a good girl just for him. no one else.

“oh, baby,” he coos, body filling with even more need. he presses his ring finger inside of you and basking in your cry all the while purring, “you’re doing so fucking well for me.”

you involuntarily clench at his words, back slightly arching off the bed as you moan. “wonwoo.”

he lets out a guttural moan at the sound of his name on your tongue. it’s the way he’s heard it in his dreams, the dreams where he’s ruining you for everyone else.

wonwoo knows he’s crazy, trust, he knows. he understands the way he feels about you is abnormal, but fuck, right now? he feels absolutely, postively insane.

“god, you’re so gorgeous,” he whispers, his mind slowly drifting. “so fucking pretty taking my fingers like this, taking ‘em like a champ.”

he thrusts his fingers into you with ease, stretching you effectively while being sure to rub at your sweet spot. he watches them disappear and reappear at your opening while also stealing glances at your scrunched up face. you’re such an angel.

after a while, the burning sting leaves and you’re left with an immense pleasure. you didn’t think it would get any better, but there’s an unfamiliar pressure building in your tummy and you feel the need to clamp down on his digits. it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before and you swear you’re on the brink of pure ecstasy.

“wonwoo… wonwoo,” you gasp, hand blindly searching for his wrist as your eyes screw closed. “f-feels…weird… fuck! wonwoo!”

and wonwoo jus can’t. he can’t let you cum like this for the first time, it would be a crime. when you cum for the first time, he needs it to be on his cock.

he hates himself for doing so, but his movements stop. you gasp loudly, “no, no, no!” you cry out, tears forming in your eyes. you were so close, but it was unfairly taken away from you in a matter of seconds. “no, no, please keep going, please!”

“i want your first time to be on my cock, sweetheart, want you to remember it that way.” he says with his voice low. so low you can hear the beautiful rasp of his voice. “you want that don’t you? you want my cock, yeah?”

you nod profusely, face heating up at his words and the way he articulates them. “y-yes… i do.” you mumble.

“that’s a good girl.”

you moan at the praise, hips bucking up again as he stands to slip off his loose pjs. when they fall, his hard cock slaps against his covered abdomen and you feel your heart skip a beat at his size.

you gasp, sitting up as your sensitive cunt pulses once more. it’s so fucking pretty. you’ve heard your girl friends talk about how ugly and gross dicks were, a conversation that you never had input for, but after seeing wonwoo’s, you know they haven’t been blessed with the sight of one like his.

he’s huge, for starters. it makes your tummy churn and swirl because you know he won’t be able to fit inside of you— not all at once at least. it’s long with prominent veins running through. the tip is flushed and leaky and he looks so hard it hurts.

“won’t fit,” you whimper slowly gravitating towards him at the edge of your bed, eyes not leaving the throbbing member. “it’s not gonna fit, won,” you look up at him through your lashes and his entire body twitches as he looks down at your doe eyes.

“and how do you know that?” he grabs your face with one of his hands, squishing your cheeks with his pointer and thumb finger. “you can take it, baby, don’t worry. i’ll be gentle.”

the tone of his voice drops an octave, and this time, you don’t believe him. there is something predatory about his words that makes you squirm and gush under his gaze. you don’t think he’ll be gentle, the way he looks at you like… it’s like he’s about to have his last meal.

and, honestly, you find that you love it. you love having him look at you like he’s yours and your his. you love his attention. you love having him like this.

he pushes you back again, your back hitting the plush bed. you bite your lip as you see him join and tower over you. he flashes a smile and you slowly melt and wither away under him, body squirming a bit.

he looks in between your bodies and realizes he’s not wearing a condom. his face drains of color at the thought of your cunt taking his cock bare. “sweetheart… wait,”

your eyes widen and your lips form into a small pout, “what is it? what’s wrong?”

“need to get a condom,” he huffs and it’s apparent that he’s not very happy about the idea. he’s always worn one. every time. with every girl he’s ever been with. but every single time he’s imagined taking you, it was without one. he wants nothing in the way between you and him, but, of course, he needs to respect you and think about your safety. no matter how bad he wants it.

you furrow your eyebrows, “...why?” you whisper.

this time, he mirrors your confused look. you’re a virgin, sure, but you must know what a condom is. “what do you mean why, angel? it’s pro–”

you shake your head, cutting him off. “i mean, why do you need it? are you… not clean?” you ask worriedly.

“no, of course i am!”

“well, don’t leave me here,” you mumble. “‘m on the pill now, so you should be fine without one… now, please? wanna feel like i did before… wanna feel all of you…”

wonwoo now knows he’s died. he’s died and now he’s in paradise. you, and all your beauty, laying under him with the prettiest pout, begging for him. for his cock. raw. everything he’s dreamed of is about to come true... if he doesn’t cum first.

“god,” he mutters. he takes his length in his hand, stroking himself before lining up with your entrance. “you want my cock then?” he whispers, dragging the tip up and down your messy folds.

“yeah, please… go slow…”

he lets out a shaky breath, nodding his head before guiding himself back to your dripping hole. he inhales sharply, pushing himself inside, immediately entranced by the feeling of your warmth enveloping him whole.

you wince letting out a soft cry of his name. he pushes past the resistance and you feel him taking something that’s been so sacred for as long as you could remember, but if you’re being transparent you couldn’t be happier that it’s him. you wouldn’t want anyone else to be in this position.

“fuck, baby,” he grunts with his raspy, deep voice that makes you clench even tighter around him. “fuck, so fucking tight, baby. so perfect.” he can barely trust his voice. it’s barely been five minutes, but he swears on everything he’s never felt this good before.

you’re not even sure his fingers helped you enough because the stretch is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. “hurts…” you whimper out, eyes screwed close to keep the pained tears from falling.

he bites his lip to suppress a moan at the sight of you like this, instead asking, “you good, baby? need me to pull out?” he’ll die if you do, so he hopes you answer against the idea.

“n-no,” you pant, trying to breathe your way through the pain. “j-just go slow…s’big, feel too full,” you reply, brain unable to give him complete sentences.

his eyes almost roll at your broken words. “i know, baby, i know. you’re doing so well for me, hm? takin’ it well all for me,” he manages to tell you even though he’s twitching like he might explode within the next 30 seconds.

his praise makes you gasp as you arch your back, a new gush of arousal coating his hard length. when wonwoo speaks to you like this, it makes your head fog. the validation and praise and the lovingness behind it all makes you want to have him forever. you want him to speak to you like you're his baby forever.

it almost makes you forget that this is just a favor. that you have a boyfriend and he has a sea of gorgeous women lined up for him. almost.

after a few more minutes of slowly inching his way inside you, he finally bottoms out. you’re already a bit sore from the stretch, but the pain recedes and he fits like a glove. like he was made to be inside you and you were made to take him and all of his glory. it only riles you up, your pussy tightening around him even more.

he groans out your name, “fuck, don’t do that or i won’t be able to last, pretty girl.”

“‘m sorry,” you mewl. “can’t help it, feels so good, wonwoo,” you finally open your eyes to look into his. “keep moving please?” you pout, keeping your tears at bay.

he can’t emphasize how close he is to spontaneously combusting and pumping you full just to fuck you over and over again. he wants to fuck you till your pussy’s raw and you’re begging for mercy. he wants to see your pretty tears, hear your cries, see you dripping in sweat and cum.

he doesn’t say anything, pulling out slowly and pushing himself back in. you gasp, hands moving to tug on the fabric of his shirt in attempts to pull it off.

“ah, ah, ah,” wonwoo reprimands. “can’t be the only one without a shirt, baby, you gotta take yours off first.” he smirks at your eagerness.

you nod quickly as you sit up, still so full of him, peeling your flimsy tank top off. you free your chest and wonwoo groans when he finally sees them.

“so pretty…” he mumbles, pushing you back down with a bit more force than you were expecting. one of his hands comes to squeeze the fat, fondling it like he’s wanted to for so long. his cock thrusts into you again a bit faster and you cry again at the stimulation.

“t-take it off!” you beg, reaching for the shirt again.

he chuckles, pulling his shirt off and tossing it to the pile of clothes on the floor. once you see his skin, your arms immediately wrap around his neck pulling him down for a kiss. you imitate the actions of your first kiss earlier, opening your mouth to let his tongue in. you let him sloppily makeout with your own.

it’s messy. a newfound experience for you. you’ve never had a kiss like this– never had a kiss where it felt like you were about to get swallowed whole. you’ve never had a kiss filled with so much passion, a kiss so loud where you’re moaning into someone's mouth and they’re moaning into yours so lustily. it’s your first. wonwoo’s your first for many it seems.

wonwoo can’t say he’s never had a messy kiss because he’s had plenty. maybe a few too many. but, unbeknownst to you, he’s never felt so eager for anyone in all his years of knowing you– lusting after you. he wants this so bad. he wants you so fucking bad it’s making his throat constrict, his abdomen tighten, his dick twitch as it’s surrounded by your warm walls.

his cock fills you up so well and you feel like there’s a big possibility that you may get addicted to the feeling. now that the pain has subsided, you can feel the prominent veins pressing into your velvety walls. you can feel every twitch and his bulbous head rubbing right against that spot that’s turning your brain into mush.

“fuck, baby, you’re so good,” he moans into your mouth, thrusts increasing in pace.

“love it when you call me that,” you admit, mindlessly. you pull him in closer, nails digging into his back, imprinting red crescent shapes in the skin.

he lets out a guttural groan, breaking from the kiss and looking into your teary eyes. “you like being my good little baby, huh?” he asks breathlessly and when you whine and clench around him, he chuckles. “i can tell, angel, pretty pussy is loving my cock– swallowing all of me like such a good slut.”

he didn’t mean to say it, but when the words slip out, your eyes widen. his expression mirrors yours and his speed falters. your pulse thumps erratically and you’re sure your heart is going to lurch out of your chest, teeth catching your bottom lip, biting and digging into the pillowy muscle.

“i didn’t mean–”

“keep going…” you whisper, hooking your legs around his waist to pull him into you and return to his prior pace. “oh, won, please keep going.” your begs make him reel.

your pupils are completely blown out now. like you’ve taken some type of drug and you’re feeling the euphoric effects of it all. you can’t wrap your head around why you feel the way you do because of one degrading word.

jesus christ, he thinks to himself. he has to be in love. you’re so greedy, so much potential to be his gorgeous girl. he thinks you’re perfect for him– no, he knows you’re perfect for him. he’s confident with the way he fits in you and the way you trust him with your body. he can’t even care to think about your stupid boyfriend. you’re his now. his to fuck stupid and pump full of cum. his to punish and praise and pleasure. he’ll turn you into his own little cockhungry slut.

his thoughts get the best of him as he nearly blacks out at the idea of you being his. his hips snap against yours with a particularly harsh thrust and he feels his tip kissing your cervix and you sob out, “fuh-fuck!”

and at the sound of your sobs and pleads and curses, he feels as if he can’t restrain himself any longer. he sits up on his knees, hands grabbing at your waist with a vice-like grip that will likely result in splats of purple bruises the next morning. not like either of you could give a fuck. he relentlessly pounds into you, balls lewdly slapping against your sloppy cunt without a care in the world.

your cries and his groans plus all the pornographic sounds your bodies make together fill the room, bouncing off your cutely decorated walls. he can tell you’re going to cum soon when your breathing picks up, watching the way your chest rises and falls at an alarming rate.

you suddenly remember how you felt right before he had snatched his fingers from you earlier. you can feel it creeping back up, the fiery knot in your tummy tightening. your hand finds the sensitive bud wonwoo was toying with earlier, gently rubbing circles into it.

he notices immediately and grunts. “such a greedy girl already, aren’t you? i’ve ruined you.” ruined you for everyone else and it’s been the best thing he’s ever done, he fails to add.

you nod, tears dripping down the sides of your face. “g-god!”

“not quite, baby.” he chuckles breathily. “gonna cum for me? hmm, baby? gonna soak my cock for the first time like the good little slut you are?” he rambles, his own orgasm– that he’s held back all this time– quickly approaching.

you mewl at the mixed praise and degradation once more, fingers working faster as your brain numbs. “oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” you slur. “oh, ‘m gonna… wonwoo, ‘m gonna–!”

the words die on your tongue– the stimulation on your clit and the stimulation of his cock ramming into your sweet spot has you coming all over him. your back arches and your thighs convulse as you clamp around his cock. a squealing mantra of his name and curses flee your mouth as the tightrope in your tummy snaps.

you don’t think you’ve ever felt anything as euphoric in your life. it feels so good to let go and gush all over his cock while he fucks you through your orgasm so erratically. you can tell he’s close, too. a few more seconds and he’ll be making a mess.

“ah, fuck– ‘m so close, baby, pretty pussy’s milking me for all i’m worth,” he moans out the warning. “love it so much.” he loves you so much.

you can barely hear a noise, let alone comprehend any of his words, so you just nod frantically as your sensitive body twitches under him sporadically.

his thrusts go sloppy and before you know it, he pulls out, making you whine at the sudden emptiness. “fuck,” he grunts before he’s overtaken by the immense pleasure your pussy’s given him. he moans and lets out small whimpers as he pumps his cock, painting your sheen skin with his warm seed. he throws his head back as he moans out your name, “Y/N, fuck,”

he wishes so badly he could have came inside of you, but he’s going to make sure there’s another opportunity for that. he’ll be damned if he never fucks your cute pussy again.

you whimper at the sudden warm substance on your skin. your eyes crack open to see your stomach covered in a sticky, white liquid– or maybe a mix between liquid and solid. your not sure you know how to describe it.

you look at him as your mind comes to you. his hair disheveled, a few strays sticking to his sweaty forehead and the pace, at which, his chest rises and falls slows till it’s normal once more.

when you come down, you suddenly remember your boyfriend. you were so sure you wanted him till wonwoo looked at you, made you feel special, took your virginity– now, you’re a mess. the mental image of your boyfriend fogs over in your head with words wonwoo whispered to you while he was fucking you.

but you shouldn’t think about it anymore, right? everything was going to go back to normal after tonight, wouldn’t it? wonwoo will ever forgot this happened and he would bring some girl over when he thought you were gone and fuck her the same way he fucked you. you’d go back to thinking about your boyfriend trying to push the thoughts of your best friend making you cum over and over out of your head (it won’t work, but a girl can dream). all will be well. for one of you, at least.

“Y/N?” he mumbles.

you look up at him and give him a small smile, “thanks for your help, won,” you whisper masking the sadness in your voice. “‘m gonna shower…” you don’t wait for his reply before you move off your bed.

your legs are wobbly and your entirety feels sore. he really did a number on you. you whimper with every step you take and wonwoo quickly finds his pants and slips them on before rushing to your side.

“Y/N, c’mon, lemme take care of you.” he murmurs, his hands finding your waist to ground you and keeping your body from hobbling over. “get back on the bed, baby,” he whispers into your ear.

you huff, physically unable to fight him on the matter and shuffling back to your bed uncomfortably. the ache between your legs and the nasty feeling of his release drying on your naked body were not a good mix. then you fucking remembered you were naked. you gasp, startling wonwoo, your arms wrapping around your body in attempts to hide yourself as if he hadn’t fucked you five minutes ago.

“what’s wrong?” he asks, a look of confusion painting his face.

“y-you… i… i’m naked…” you tell him meekly, moving to lay on the bed again. “this… is so weird.”

he smiles softly at your sudden shyness. “back to being shy, are we?” you frown at him and he just laughs heartily, your body filling with even more dread because– god. he’s just perfect and not yours. “‘m only teasing, doll, ‘s okay.”

you don’t reply, awkwardly shifting under his gaze. the pet name sounds so natural. like he’s meant to call you pretty things. like you're meant to be his.

but he’s not yours and you’re not his.

you stutter, words fleeing you in the moment you need them most. “wonwoo… i-i…”

you look like you’re on the brink of tears, guilt wracking your body. wonwoo feels his chest tighten, breath hitching in his dry throat, “Y/N, do you regret it?” he asks, words hushed. he’s anxious.

“no! no, no, i don’t… i don’t regret it. i trust you more than anyone, wonwoo. i promise.” you say meekly and he feels a weight lift off his shoulders. “i just… can we act like it never happened?”

the weight returns. heavier. it nearly crushes him. he couldn’t forget about this even if he’d wanted to. he’s already tattooed every second of tonight into his fuzzy brain. every reaction, every moan, every single word you gave him is all he’ll think about.

he clears his throat, a shaky exhale slipping his lips before asking, “if you don’t regret it then why…?” he can’t even get the question out. he knows the answer. (read: the unnamed boyfriend– the one that he swears he’ll kill the second he meets him.)

you avert your eyes, looking anywhere but at him. “you know why.”

he does.

“and plus, we’re just friends. and roommates. it’ll just be awkward.” you cringe at your words because, unbeknownst to him, you don’t want to forget it. you know you won’t be able to forget it. not the possessive words that he spat during his sex-crazed haze, not the way his cock felt, not the way he looked at you.

he waits for you to look at him, but you don’t. you can’t look at him right now.

“okay.” he says coldly after sitting in deafening silence for over a minute. “consider it forgotten.”

he’ll make you his one of these days. you may not know it yet, but you belong with him. and he’d do anything for you.

#wonwoo smut #svt smut #seventeen smut

2K notes · View notes

starsstuddedsky · 2 years ago

Text

What? Like It’s Hard?

gn reader x soonyoung

summary: With the help of a little bit of bleach, Soonyoung is certified legally blonde–complete to last minute-dedication to scoring as high as Elle Woods on the LSAT. While he has no interest in law school, he’s notorious for never turning down a dare. So how does a frat bro in serious danger of failing his senior year get a 179? He asks the smartest person he knows.

Or, studying for a law test has never seen this much chemistry.

genre: fluff, angst, non-idol au, uni au, friends to lovers, opposites attract

warnings: swearing, drinking, food, arguing, a couple sex jokes, one spicy scene at the end but no actual smut, refusal to acknowledge feelings, what's the word for beyond oblivious????

full wc: 24.3k

playlist! - i'm not very good at this but i tried to add songs alternating between yn and soonyoung :)

a/n: hello!! first of all, sorry this so long! it's been a very very busy summer. thank you to everyone who has continued to show interest in the story, it's really kept me going. i honestly have no idea what this is anymore but i hope it does not disappoint :) as always i appreciate feedback of any form <3 thank you again for reading and have a lovely day! finally, happy scoups day :)

a/n2: a special shout out to @chocolatemilk139 for being my beta and for helping me fact check... why do i keep writing about lawyers when i know absolutely nothing about the field.......

“Nope.” You grab your backpack, shoving your laptop inside, but he gets to your water bottle before you can reach it.

“Come on.” Soonyoung pouts his lips.

“I won’t do it,” you say.

Soonyoung hugs your water bottle hostage against his chest, dark blue hiding in the crook of his elbow, bright against the pale pink sweater he wears. It’s an unusual choice for him, normally clad in baggy jeans and loose t-shirts. Still, the color highlights his new hair, blonde bordering on white. Hardly the first time he’s done something insane for a bet.

“Please! I’m desperate!” He cries again, stepping closer, though he keeps a firm grip on your water bottle. You never should have told him how emotionally attached you are to it; you should have known it would be held against you.

“No,” you say. You sling your backpack on, just in case he gets any other ideas. The other students shoot dirty looks at you, actually in the library to study (like you were, until Soonyoung arrived). So you grab him by the arm, rolling your eyes at how he jerks the water bottle out of reach.

“Walk and talk, we’re not doing this here,” you say, folding your arms over your chest.

“Come on, how hard can it be?” Soonyoung asks. “It’s just a test.”

“Just a test?” You snort. “Soonyoung, you are aware that most people don’t apply to law school on a dare?”

“I don’t have to get into law school!” He says, “just get a 179 on the LSAT.”

As if that makes it any better. You eye Soonyoung and his tight grip on the plastic. Maybe it’s a lost cause and you should just swing by the bookstore to get a new one instead. But that water bottle has butterfly stickers that have survived since freshman year and a dent from the time Jun tried to use it as a weapon in a fight against Jihoon (that was declared a draw when the bottle busted open and doused both of them equally); it holds memories better than water and you’ll be damned if you let Soonyoung hold it hostage.

“That’s actually harder,” you mumble. From the corner of your eye, you can see him tucking the blue bottle under his right arm, farthest from you. This won’t be easy, especially since you saw the poorly disguised thirst trap of him and one of his frat bros at the gym: those arms are not to be underestimated.

“I’ll pay you!”

“With what money?”

Soonyoung pauses. You’ve reached the exit by now, sunlight warming you through the glass doors. He turns to the sunlight, and you know he’s pretending to be a main character from an artsy film (not that he’s ever seen on). He takes a deep breath, as if he already regrets what he has to say next.

“Okay, I’ll offer you the only services I have.” He turns to face you, eyes on the floor.

“Oh my god, Soonyoung!” You shove his shoulder. “You are not selling your body for a test!”

“But it’s all I know!” He says. He pokes your arms. “You could have so much muscle if you lifted just twice a week.”

“Oh.” You blink at him. “You meant working out?”

“What did you think I meant?”

You feel heat rush into your cheeks. You push the door open, praying Soonyoung doesn’t notice. “It doesn’t matter,” you say, not daring to check if he’s following. “I don’t have time to workout.”

“Then what do you want?” Soonyoung asks. He stays just out of reach, adjusting his grip so that the water bottle hangs from his hand. “Please, I’ll do anything!”

“Why do you need me?”

“Because you’re the smartest person I know,” he says without hesitation. In the three years of your friendship, you’ve learned that the only time Soonyoung isn’t serious is when he flirts.

“You are,” he insists. “Plus you’ve already taken it, so you’re my best chance. My only chance, it’s not like I have a good track record with tests.” He gives you a lopsided smile as he tries to pretend like he’s joking. But Soonyoung has always been easy to read. You see the sparkle in his eyes dim, and you remember freshman Soonyoung–when he failed the midterm and holed up in his room in the frat house for two full days, not even venturing out to drink. It’s that damn sparkle that gets to you. He isn’t paying attention anymore, water bottle hanging loosely from his hand, but you can’t bring yourself to snatch it.

“You can pass it,” you say with a sigh. “It’s about studying correctly.”

“I don’t know,” Soonyoung says. “I’ve never really studied.”

“Well, that’s what I’ll teach you.”

Soonyoung freezes, grabbing your arm. “Seriously?” When you turn to face him, his smile is so bright it warms you from the inside out, hotter than the actual sun on your skin. He throws his arms around you, wrapping you in a hug so tight he lifts you off the ground. Your heart does this strange thing where it hops into your throat. Your arms come up as a reflex but his embrace is too tight for you to even hug him back.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He shouts. He doesn’t let go, even when he sets you back down. He loosens his arms just enough to look at you, the full force of his smile directed at you. “I swear you’re welcome at the frat house any time, I’ll buy you anything you want when I have money, I’ll drive you wherever you want if I can get Seungcheol’s car, I’ll do whatever, just thank you, thank you, thank you.”

You know you should answer, or say something, but thinking is too much when he’s so close you can smell the strangely sweet combination of laundry detergent, cologne, and sweat. You push out of his arms, snagging your water bottle on the way out.

“It’s whatever,” you mumble. Though his arms aren’t around you anymore, you feel strangely hot, like your blood is boiling, and your heart still pounds.

“It is not whatever,” Soonyoung declares. “I swear, whatever you want, I’ll do it.” He holds a hand over his heart and if it was anyone else you’d think they were joking but it’s Soonyoung: he’s deadly serious.

You can’t handle his gaze anymore, turning to study your beat up sneakers. “Really? You’ll get my first edition copy of Pride and Prejudice from Jun?”

“I’ll get that book back.” He glances at you. “It is a book, right?”

“Yeah,” you say. “Though there’s been some good adaptations.”

“That’s the one with the zombies?”

“Zombies?” You frown. “Oh my god, do you mean Pride and Prejudice and Zombies?”

“That’s not the original book?”

“No,” you say, laughing. “The original is Jane Austen, in the 1800s.”

“Oh,” Soonyoung says.

“I’ve actually never seen that one,” you say. “It’s the only adaptation I haven’t seen.”

“How many movies are there?”

“Well, there’s the 1940 adaptation, the BBC series that’s widely regarded as the most faithful adaptation, the 2005 Kiera Knightley movie that’s iconic, plus the Lizzie Bennet Diaries, which is a vlog-style Youtube adaptation. Then of course there’s Jane Austen’s other works, like Persuasion, which, the new one, for the record, was a terrible adaptation.” You stop when you realize you’re dangerously close to going on what Jihoon calls ‘an Austen tirade.’

“I liked the movie,” he says after a pause. “I don’t know if it was that good, or close to the books. But it was fun.”

“I’ll have to watch it, then,” you say. “I know it’s the obvious choice, but Pride and Prejudice really is my favorite Jane Austen novel. Good luck getting it back from Jun though. He’s studying abroad this semester.”

“He’s the friend from your history class?”

“No, that’s Jihoon, my roommate,” you say. “Jun was in my language class.”

“I thought you hated everyone in that class.”

“Oh, I did,” you say. “But Jun is friends with Jihoon, so he sort of just became my friend too.”

Soonyoung hums, saying nothing else. You don’t recognize the song, though you tend to mostly listen to classical music when you study or whatever Jihoon blasts from his room, so it’s not that surprising. The melody is nice, though. Well, Soonyoung’s voice is.

“I really am grateful,” Soonyoung says. “I know I was begging, because I don’t think I can do this without you–well, I don’t know if I can do it with you, but you’re my only hope and–I’m rambling again.” He flashes a smile. “The point is, thank you.”

You shrug, feeling shy under his gaze. “It’ll help me study anyways,” you say. “You learn a lot when you teach.”

“I thought you already took it?”

“I only got a 150,” you say, sighing. “I need at least a 165.”

Soonyoung nods, forehead creasing like it always does when he’s lost in thought. “Thank you anyway.”

“Well, you swore to do whatever I tell you,” you say, desperate to change the subject. “Don’t think I won’t abuse that.”

“Oh, YN,” he says, “I’m counting on it.” He even winks.

You cough, choking at the outright flirting. Soonyoung hasn’t tried a line on you in so long you thought he’d used them all. He isn’t serious–it was engraved in his DNA the second he became a fully fledged member of Sigma Beta Tau but it’s not like many people flirt with you, so it’s hard to stop your heart from jumping.

You check your phone, unable to look him in the eyes. It’s 2:18 now, prime naptime if you can get back to your apartment before Jihoon gets back. But if it’s past two, unless he lied to you at the start of the semester, that means Soonyoung should be in his data ethics class. “Hey, don’t you have class right now?”

Soonyoung glances at the time on his phone. “Shit.” He takes off, sprinting across the grass, dodging three picnics and narrowly avoiding getting rocked in the back of the head by a frisbee. He pauses at the edge, turning back around to wave wildly at you.

“Thank you!” He shouts. The picnickers glance between you and him and you can feel the blush returning. Soonyoung doesn’t notice all the eyes on him, waving like a goofball one final time before sprinting off again. Like a whirlwind, he’s gone again, leaving you to stroll across campus and wonder what you just signed up for.

Soonyoung’s brow furrows into a frown, lips pulling together in a pout. He rests his chin on his hands, looking up at you from the table like a puppy that knows he’s in trouble. “That bad?”

“Your analytical reasoning was good!” You say, not wanting to destroy him just yet. “The logical analysis wasn’t that bad either, you just need practice.”

“Wasn’t there a third section?”

“The score for reading comprehension was pretty bad.” Horrendous, actually, but you can’t tell him that, not when he’s deflating faster than a balloon at a knife throwing contest. He sits back, head knocking lightly against the back of the stiff library chairs.

“We can work with this! It’s really not that bad,” you say. You reach out instinctively, wrapping your hands over his hands. Your thumb rests against the soft smooth skin of the back of his hand, the rest of your fingers brushing lightly against his calloused fingers. You jerk back when you realize what you’re doing, patting his hands once and grabbing the workbook in front of him as if it’s what you meant to do all along. You study the upside down words, not daring to look at the disgust that’s probably painted on Soonyoung’s face.

“You can start with practicing the logic problems,” you say, flipping through the work book. “I’ll figure out a strategy for the reading portion.”

Soonyoung heaves a sigh, sitting up and hunching over the workbook. You flip open one of your old workbooks and try to pretend like you’re not trying to melt away from embarrassment.

“This isn’t very much teaching,” Soonyoung says without looking up. “Lots of problem solving.”

“I don’t really know what I’m doing either,” you say. “I just watched a lot of youtube videos when I was studying last year. I should have known better than to take it over the summer, though.”

Soonyoung glances up. “How come?”

You chew on your lip. You’ve known Soonyoung for a while now, but you’ve never talked to him like this, mentioning any real things other than complaining about roommates. Soonyoung would listen, probably say the ‘right’ things, but it’s a study session, so you just say, “Just not good timing.”

He nods, returning to his humming. You turn to your own workbook, trying to figure out how to get Soonyoung to actually read the passages for the reading comprehension. Twenty minutes pass in an instant and Soonyoung drops his pencil, sliding his journal with the answers back in front of you. You flip to the answer key, scanning between the two.

“When are you taking it again?” Soonyoung asks while he waits.

“Just before Halloween,” you say. Exactly 38 days from now, according to the IMPENDING DOOM countdown clock on your phone.

“That soon?”

You shrug. “I wanted to give myself time to take it again in case I bomb it and it had to be before midterms, so, yeah.”

“Is it really that bad to take all your tests at once?” Soonyoung asks.

“I mean, finals week pretty much kills me every semester. I actually thought I was cutting it close with only two weeks between it and midterms.”

“Is November cutting it too close?”

“Depends on when in November you plan on taking it,” you say, “though you probably won’t be able to take it again if you don’t like your score.”

“Not a problem for me,” Soonyoung says. He doesn’t waver against your raised eyebrow. “I’m getting that 179, first try.”

“You’re that confident?”

“In you.” He winks. “Also the bet is off if I don’t get it on the first try.”

You nod. “Yeah, that makes more sense.” You glance at your calendar. “

“November 18th.”

“That’s not too bad, you dodged between midterms and finals, there should be plenty of cram time.”

Soonyoung shrugs. “I just scheduled it so that I would get the results before the Christmas party.”

“I didn’t think you would be the religious type.”

“Oh, I’m not,” he says. “The frat has this annual post-finals party before people go back home for holiday break, usually on the last day of finals. There’s no way I’m letting Seungkwan get away with my hard earned Playstation, and there’s no way he’d miss the party.”

“You can’t just buy your own game?”

“It’s a console actually,” he says, “and that’s not the point.” You prepare for some lecture about honor or frat code or something overly dramatic and inspired by any of the countless war propaganda movies he loves, but he closes his mouth.

“I guess it doesn’t really matter,” you say. You turn back his sheet, half the answers marked with a dark blue X because red feels too cruel. “You’re clearly committed.”

He sighs at the answers, flipping back to the first question and frowning. You think the conversation is over, but without looking up from glaring at the right answers, he says, “You should come.”

“To?”

“The Christmas party.”

You stare at the top of his head but he doesn’t seem to notice. You wonder how he manages to keep his hair so blonde without ruining his scalp but you don’t see any dandruff. “Me?” You finally say.

“You said you’d come, like, freshman year,” he says. “You never did.”

You did promise, back when you saw him for class every day. But frat parties weren’t your scene back then. They aren’t your scene now. Nothing about blasting music and binge drinking appeals to you, and yet Soonyoung peeking at you from his notebook makes you feel guilty anyways. He looks at you like he really doesn’t understand why you wouldn’t want to go.

And that’s the worst part: for Soonyoung, you would go. When he looks at you with the damn Soonyoung Sparkle, you’d do anything.

“I’ll… think about it,” you finally say.

He looks at you for a moment longer, then nods, like he didn’t really expect you to say yes. You try not to feel like you’re letting him down.

“Can you explain this one to me,” he asks, turning the book so you can see it from across the table.

You skim the question, which turns out to be a series of questions about stained glass windows. You take a moment to glance between Soonyoung’s answers and the correct ones.

“Walk me through your process,” you say.

“Okay, I start with…”

“Soonyoung, are you even listening?”

He blinks at you, lifting his head from his arms. “Something about strategies? For reading?”

You snap the book shut, shaking your head. You open your mouth, speech on responsibility and studying on the tip of your tongue but one look into Soonyoung’s Sparkle Eyes (patent pending) and all the words are gone. You really need to figure out how to get around that super power.

“Come on, it’s so nice out,” he says. “We should be outside.” He grabs your hand. “This is not studying weather, this is dating weather.”

“Soonyoung your test is in two months, you seriously want to skip?” You don’t dignify the second part of his complaint with a response. The idea of Soonyoung on a date makes your stomach flip.

He sighs. “No, but it’s October, we won’t get many more nice days, so can we at least go outside?”

You hesitate a heartbeat too long and Soonyoung jumps up. He closes the workbook, knocking loose papers off the table and sending highlighters of every color flying in every direction. The chaos earns a couple side eyes from the people around you and a full on glare from the person directly next to him, but Soonyoung, as Soonyoung as ever, doesn’t seem to notice. He picks up the papers and highlighters, shoving them into his backpack without a folder and slinging it over his shoulder. You can only follow him, grabbing the drinks before he tries to carry them along his laptop. When it comes to Soonyoung, mixing liquids and technology is more dangerous than mixing alcohols. You haven’t forgotten The Coffee Incident, flooding his backpack at 8 in the morning.

He drags you out of the library, though you don’t put up much of a fight. Soonyoung makes you want to relax, just a little, and when he smiles back at you as soon as he steps out of the sunlight, you find you don’t regret a thing.

Soonyoung pulls his emergency blanket out of his blanket, passing it to you. He’s more prepared for naps than any class he’s ever taken but the thin fabric is soft so who are you to judge? He heads straight for the quad, which is already filled with people, some groups of friends, too many obvious couples with heads in each other's laps or arms wrapped around each other. Soonyoung settles down in a relatively unpopulated corner, taking the blanket back to shake it out the blanket a few times before laying it flat on the ground.

Soonyoung groans when you pull out the workbooks as soon as you sit down. “There isn’t anything more fun to study?”

“Soonyoung, it’s the LSAT,” you say. “It’s not really meant to be fun.”

“But–”

“You’re the one that wanted to go outside,” you remind him, tapping his arm with a pen. “If you’re too distracted we’ll have to go back into the library.”

He gazes at the other people laughing for a long moment before turning to face you again. You raise your eyebrows and he takes the workbook from your hands, flipping it open to the sticky-note bookmark.

The next twenty minutes are relatively quiet, the only noise coming from the chatter of the people around you, too far away to clearly hear, and Soonyoung humming while working through practice problems. You’re not sure if he even realizes he’s doing it, though he bobs his head slightly. You wonder what Soonyoung is like when he isn’t trying to get out of studying–even outside of the party invites you’ve avoided, you rarely see him on campus (because you aren’t on campus when you don’t have to be). You almost went to dinner with him to celebrate passing the business class freshman year where you met him, but you got food poisoning and he never rescheduled.

It’s for the best, though. Even like this, tutoring him minus payment of any kind, you can tell that spending too much time with him will be dangerous. He flirts so easily it feels genuine, and even though he can be ridiculous, he’s never been anything but lovely to you. And it doesn’t help that he’s hot. He glances up, as if he can feel you staring, but he just flashes a smile at you and ducks his head again. Damn frat bros with endearing charms that melt you like the perfect grilled cheese.

Perfectly blue without a cloud in sight, the sky is an empty canvas above you. The air is just the right temperature, just between hot and cold, the sun ensuring that it never dips into the latter. Just the slightest breeze kisses your skin, lifting the edges of the papers but never flipping them. Soonyoung was right: the perfect date weather.

“Soonyoung?” You turn your head to see a dark haired man standing over you. Wearing a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off and sides ripped open, you figure there’s a 80% chance he’s one of Soonyoung’s frat brothers.

“Seokmin?” Soonyoung frowns.

“You were actually serious?” Seokmin asks, gesturing to the books. “You know Seungkwan said it as a joke, right?”

“Yeah, but a bet is a bet,” Soonyoung says. “And I really want his Playstation.”

Seokmin snorts. “You know he only said it because he knows you can’t do it.”

“I’m not like I’m losing anything by trying.” Soonyoung sets his lips in a sharp line of determination (which you recognize from the dining hall when he sweet talks his way into free cookies). Seokmin raises his eyebrows at his aggression but eventually decides it’s not worth the fight. Instead, he plops down on the blanket, making a little triangle between the three of you.

“You must be YN,” he says, extending his hand. His easy smile and the way he sat down without waiting for an invitation reminds you of Soonyoung. Unlike the faux blonde, it feels foreign and you shift a little closer to Soonyoung instinctively.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you lie. Seokmin’s eyes curl into little half moons when he smiles, apparently not noticing your awkwardness. You can’t help but feel like he’s intruding as he turns to Soonyoung and asks him to explain what he’s doing. Soonyoung explains it well, though it helps that he was working on the analytical reasoning section.

It’s because he’s interrupting Soonyoung’s studying. That’s why it bothers you that he’s here, even though Soonyoung doesn’t seem to mind and Seokmin seems genuinely interested. Unfortunately, the revelation doesn’t stop you from wishing Seokmin would just leave.

“I don’t know how you do any of this,” Seokmin says after Soonyoung explains the next problem.

“It’s easy!” Soonyoung says. “Half the time the answer is in the question, you just have to know where to look!”

“Quoting me?” You raise your eyebrows.

“Well I did learn from the best!”

“So cliche,” you mutter but the compliment gets you smiling anyway. You look up to find Seokmin looking at you. He has a strange look on his face, frowning, but not angrily. He looks a little bit like when Soonyoung can’t decide between the right answer and the second best option. He doesn’t look away when you catch him staring.

“What?”

He pauses a long moment before answering, as if pondering how to answer. Finally, he says, “I like you.”

You stare at him. Soonyoung had been diligently working on practice problems but his head jerks up at the words.

“I mean, you’re a cool person,” Seokmin quickly says. “Good tutor for Soonyoung.” After hearing his name, Soonyoung grins and turns back to underlining in the workbook.

“Tutor?” You say. “I really don’t think I’m doing all that much.”

Seokmin shrugs. ”I don’t know many people that would spend this much time with someone if they aren't helping. Besides, either way, I’ve never seen Soonyoung this dedicated before.”

“That’s because you don’t dare to bet against me,” Soonyoung says without looking up.

“He might have a point there,” you say. Soonyoung takes a moment to smile at your support.

“What I’m trying to say is that you’re cool,” Seokmin says.

“Thank you?” You wait for him to say something else but he sits back and rests his hands behind him, stretching out in the sun a little more. Sighing, he tilts his head toward the sun.

“Seems like the weather will turn cold soon,” he says. “This might be the last warm day of the year.” He glances at Soonyoung. “And you’re spending it here instead of pre-gaming the Tau party.”

Soonyoung’s pencil freezes. He peeks up at Seokmin, then at you, then shrugs. “I take my bets seriously.”

“Whatever,” Seokmin says. He lays back fully, half of his body sticking off the blanket into the grass. “What are the Ke$ha lyrics? ‘The party don’t start ‘til Soonyoung walks in?’” He doesn’t wait for a correction. “I think I’ll wait until you're finished and we’ll tear it up together.”

Soonyoung glances at you, then unsuccessfully tries to hide his laughter at your expression. You don’t mean to be rude, but Seokmin really just invited himself all on his own and crashed your picnic. Study date. Outdoor study session. The name doesn’t matter, what does matter is it’s only supposed to be you and Soonyoung.

“He’ll fall asleep in about five seconds,” Soonyoung whispers. “He doesn’t actually care about the party, he just likes my nap blankets.” On that point you can’t really blame Seokmin.

“As long as it doesn’t disrupt your studying,” you say.

“Right,” Soonyoung says, more to himself than you. “That’s what’s important.”

You aren’t so oblivious that you miss his bitterness, but you are enough of a coward to decide not to ask about it. How do you even ask about something like that? You can barely answer his questions about the LSAT, so feelings? No chance.

You flip open your own workbook and set a pencil case down to keep the book open and ignore the soft snores from Seokmin. Soonyoung hums, the soft breeze carrying the gentle tune to you and easing you into a false sense of comfort, planting the idea that it’s always been like this and it always will be. But Soonyoung will take the LSAT in November and you will graduate in the spring and there won’t be any more excuses for seeing him, let alone laying out in the sun with him. Letting yourself enjoy this moment has dangerous consequences for your heart.

And yet you enjoy the warm sun on your skin and hum along with Soonyoung anyway. Seokmin is right: this kind of day won’t last long.

You jump awake at the sound. It takes you a moment to register where you are, to blink the sleep out of your eyes and recognize the stiff library chairs, the yellow tinted lighting of the study rooms on the third floor. Built like a prison cell with no windows and stained linoleum floors, you aren’t entirely sure how you fell asleep. The last thing you remember is working on your essay on Sense and Sensibility, which was rather difficult since you haven’t had the time to finish rereading it. Your book rests on the table next to your open laptop, screen dark.

A second knock reminds you why you woke up in the first place and you turn to the door. Through the glass door you see a student with a backpack hanging off their shoulder, half smiling. They turn the knob, opening the door just enough to stick their head in.

“Hey, sorry, I think I have the room scheduled,” they say.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I lost track of time,�� you say, slamming your laptop shut and shoving everything into your backpack. To their credit, the other student doesn’t rush you, even apologizing and telling you to take your time. But if you’ve lost the room, that means the two hours you had booked the study room for–the two hours you designated for writing the essay and doing problem sets–were spent asleep, which means the LSAT cram schedule has been completely thrown off with only three days before the test.

You groan as you step into the elevator, pressing the button for the fifth floor. The farther up, the more intense the quiet levels get. Hopefully it won’t be so quiet that you fall asleep, but since you got a nap, you should be able to power through an all-nighter. It wouldn’t be the first time. You brace yourself to check your phone for the time, though being kicked out of the room means you already know your fate. 9:08 means that you have a little less than three hours until the library closes. You’ve done more with less time.

The first couple desks are occupied by students but you don’t stray, heading for a familiar corner, ignoring the empty desks that line the stacks. Your corner, that you found freshman year during finals season when you couldn’t find an empty desk, is perfect: hidden behind the encyclopedia shelves with a light directly above it, only three dicks carved into it–all on the underside (discovered on a particularly bad day where you found it most comfortable to lay underneath and rethink your entire life). You smile at the small comfort, striding through the stacks with Sense and Sensibility still in your arms.

You nearly drop the book when you see the backpack, abruptly turning despite the fact that it must have been obvious to whoever stole your corner that you were headed there. You feel rage boiling up and threatening to spill. You close your eyes, reminding yourself that the corner isn’t actually yours. Still, as you settle into a desk facing a giant window that reveals the dark campus, you can’t help but feel bitter. Your thoughts stray to the desk that should be yours, even as you pull out your computer.

BATTERY LOW

The words light up your screen, mocking you before the screen falls dark again. You dig in your backpack for your charger that you always slip into the main pocket. You feel your underused pencil pouch, the single journal since you keep most of your notes on your laptop, LSAT prep book, your three folders, and no charger. Even when you look inside and lay the entire contents of your backpack on the desk in front of you, the only charger you find is for your phone. Which means the longer laptop cord is probably sitting on your desk, all the way back at your apartment.

A twenty minute walk back, twenty minutes less for writing your essay. You can start it on your phone, maybe, though the thought of switching between reading the Sparknotes and typing already exhausts you. It’s moot anyways, since all you can do is sit and stare at the desk, covered in the contents of your soul. This is what your life has become: a stack of paper that weighs less than the digital universe on your laptop that’s all contingent on a $15 charger that abandons you when you need it most.

In the end it isn’t the rage that gets to you. It’s the hilarity of it all, how silly it is that your life is dictated by something so stupid.

The fifth floor decrees silence, so you make sure that your sobs don’t make a noise. You can’t control the tears but you can hold your breath. When your head starts to feel light and your lungs are desperate for air, you can breathe through your mouth and inhale as slow as you can to keep the shakiness to a minimum. You can do everything you can to hold it together, even when you’re falling apart.

Someone taps you on the shoulder. You lift your head, ready to face a tired librarian kicking you out but instead you see bleach blonde hair and a forced smile over a furrowed brow.

“What are you doing here?” You whisper, glad for the quiet because you don’t trust your voice to support you.

He holds up a thick, leatherbound book. LSAT for Dummies. “Extra reading couldn’t hurt, right?”

You blink at him. The only times you’ve seen Soonyoung in the library on his own has been with a thick blanket and closed eyes (it’s how you know he sleeps with his mouth open, just a little). You can’t quite believe he’s in front of you and yet he takes a step closer and doesn’t vanish.

“What are you doing here?” He asks.

“Shhh,” you say, holding your finger to your lips to get him to quiet down, even though there’s no one in sight. “Quiet floor.”

He nods, looking around as if he’s waiting for someone to kick him out. He turns to look at your desk, the contents of your backpack still strewn about. He tilts his head but doesn’t dare raise his voice to ask. You know he hasn’t missed the tears, still wet on your cheeks.

You done? He mouths.

Not even close, you think, but you nod anyways because it’s the easier answer. Soonyoung doesn’t hesitate, gently closing your laptop and sweeping everything into your backpack. You watch as he dumps it all into the biggest pocket, zipping it up and slinging it onto his back. He tucks the law book under his arm and holds out his other hand for you to take.

“Come on,” he whispers. And you take it, let him pull you out of your chair. The walk to the elevator; out of the library; toward the edge of campus; nothing feels far when Soonyoung doesn’t let go of your hand. You follow him in a daze, clinging to his hand in the off-chance that all your luck rides on him–like if you let go, you’ll lose your tether to this planet.

Soonyoung rarely walks in silence and today is not an exception. He rambles about the only member of the frat capable of cooking that apparently can’t do anything without creating a giant mess. Even as he complains about the guy, Soonyoung can’t help defending him, explaining in mouth-watering detail how good his food is.

“One time he crowd sourced some steaks and did a grill for the new pledges and they all thought it was a prank or something and nearly cried when he actually let them eat them. I think they burnt their mouths from eating it too fast, afraid someone was going to take it away from them.” Soonyoung stops at the edge of campus. He glances at you, a question in his eyes. Where are we going?

“Soonyoung,” you say. Squeezing his hand feels natural. “I don’t really want to go back right now.”

He nods, squeezing your hand back. “You want to go for a ride?”

“You have a car?”

“Nope.” Soonyoung fishes his phone out of his pocket and makes a call. You can only hear Soonyoung, who says, “I need a ride,” and “Pick me up by the duck statue,” and then he hangs up.

The edge of campus that Soonyoung drags you to is right next to the athletic fields, which explains why there is a giant statue of the mascot that towers over you. It has three of its own personal spotlights and shiny claws from fans rubbing them for good luck, despite there being no official tradition. You only went to one game, mostly to confirm you would rather be anywhere else (except maybe the bathroom of the stadium). Either way, the only thing you do know about the statue and mascot for your school is that it is not a duck.

“That’s a raven.” You point at the statue.

Soonyoung frowns between you and the hunk of metal. “Oh, Larry?”

“It has a name?”

“Well, there’s the official name, which is like, Midnight Rain or something, and the frat name.”

“And the frat name is Larry?”

Soonyoung shrugs. “I didn’t choose it.”

“And you call it a duck, too?”

“It looks like a duck.”

You study the statue. You aren’t an ornithologist, but you’re pretty sure ducks have webbed feet instead of talons, and different beaks. Plus you’ve never seen a pure black duck. But you’ve spent enough time with Soonyoung to know it doesn’t have to make sense when the frat is involved (in fact, you’ve found sense is rarely involved in their decisions).

“We just call it the duck. Or Larry, when we want to be formal.” Soonyoung jumps at the honk of a horn. You turn around with him to find an obnoxiously red convertible parked against the curb. The driver’s smooth black hair is styled to look effortless, hair falling just above his eyes, and he wears sunglasses despite the fact that the sun went down three hours ago. He might be attractive, if he wasn’t trying so hard. You never thought you had a type, but someone like Soonyoung, who wears clothes that he likes and sticks his hair straight up because he thinks it looks funny–that’s more your style.

“Here’s our ride,” Soonyoung says. He starts walking, pulling you with him, still holding your hand. You aren’t sure if he even realizes, but you’re in no hurry to remind him.

“Hey Josh,” he says.

Driver (Josh, apparently), finally pulls off his sunglasses. “Soonyoung, you have a friend.”

“I’m YN,” you say, wishing your voice didn’t sound so scratchy from crying.

“Oh, I know,” he says, a twinkle in his eye that flirts between danger and fun. “I’m Joshua.” You try not to feel unsettled by it. He raises an eyebrow as Soonyoung slides into the backseat and you sit beside him. “Am I just an Uber to you?”

“Seungcheol is out and I knew there was no way you would let me drive your car,” Soonyoung says.

“So, yes?”

Soonyoung shrugs and laughs at Joshua’s expression.

“Where are we headed?” He asks with a resigned sigh as if he’s used to Soonyoung’s antics. Has he done this before? You frown. Why does it matter to you if he’s done this with someone else? You’re so busy with the internal war, you miss Soonyoung’s answer.

“Seriously?” Joshua asks. “It’s a weeknight.”

“Like that’s ever been a problem for you.”

Joshua glances at you. “You’re okay with this?”

You pause. You don’t actually know where Soonyoung said to go. But it’s Soonyoung, your heart says. You're inclined to agree with it tonight. “Yeah.”

He shakes his head and mutters something you don’t catch and kicks the car into gear. Before long, you are flying down a two lane road you didn’t even know existed. The wind starts to pick up with the top of the car down, blasting your face. Though your nose is still stuffed from crying, the air fills your lungs, tasting like dead leaves and unnatural warmth courtesy of climate change. For the first time tonight, you can breathe.

The clock reads just shy of 1 am by the time the car stops. As soon as the rumbling engine cuts out, another noise takes over, drowning everything else out. Crashes too rhythmic to be thunder, the blows softened by tall dunes illuminated by the car’s headlights that Joshua didn’t turn off.

Soonyoung turns to you with a grin. “Ready to have some fun?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, jumping out of the car instead of opening the door, ignoring Joshua’s shout. He sprints toward the crashing waves.

Joshua shakes his head, opening his door and ushering you out from the back. He even closes the door behind you, folding his arms over his chest and walking slowly to the beach with you. The headlights cut out but the moon and stars shine enough to see where the boardwalk ends and the sand begins. Soonyoung’s movement gives him away more than any light, running alongside the water and dancing with the tide.

You clear your throat. The ride cleared your head enough for you to feel properly embarrassed about meeting someone right after sobbing. You shudder to imagine how terrible you looked when he first picked you up, clinging to Soonyoung like he was the only thing keeping you alive. A blush forms just at the thought of it.

“So, you do this often?” You ask.

“Do something truly insane because of Soonyoung? All the time.” Joshua laughs. “We don’t usually end up this far away though, and usually someone’s life is in imminent danger.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” you say, watching Soonyoung strip his socks and shoes off and toss them behind him. One sock gets caught in the wind and blows back toward you and Joshua.

Joshua stops before the two of you can catch up to him. You turn to look at him. It’s difficult to read his expression in the moonlight but he frowns like he’s not sure he should say something. Eventually he says, “I’m going for a walk down the boardwalk.” He glances at Soonyoung, then back at you and smiles. “Have fun with him.”

You watch him turn around and trudge back up the sand, wondering if all of Soonyoung’s friends are this strange. Maybe it’s just being in a frat. You grab Soonyoung’s sock and set it with his shoes, smiling when he turns around and waves like a maniac.

“It’s the ocean!” He shouts over the crashes.

“You’re soaked!” You shout back. He glances down and apparently finally realizes his shirt is wet, clinging to his shoulders already. He strides back toward you, grabbing your arm and pulling you closer.

“My shoes are not coming off!” You warn him.

“Just come closer!” He says. “It’s amazing!” You stand with him at the edge of the water, watching it rise in the darkness and draw closer and closer. It crashes on the sand first, a violent move, kicking up wet sand and mixing it with white water. The frothy white water creeps forward, until you have to dance backward. Soonyoung stays in the water, letting it wash around his feet.

“It feels better like this,” he says.

“My feet are covered in enough sand,” you say, though he does look like he’s having fun. The water must be freezing this time of the year–it would feel so nice running over your skin. But you’d end up with wet socks and even more sand in your shoes to clean out.

Soonyoung holds out his hand. “You’d like this.”

You chew on your lip. Normally you’d laugh in his face and say ‘not a chance.’ But normalcy has never been running three hours away to the beach in the middle of the night when you have class at 9 in the morning. You pull off the sneakers without untying them and pull your socks off, setting them next to Soonyoung’s and joining him at the edge of the water. His hand isn’t out by the time you return but he slips it into yours when you join his side.

Another wave crashes and you watch the water creep forward, faster than you expect it to be–and you’re right, it’s freezing, but Soonyoung’s right too, it sends an icy shock throughout your body that sends a tingly rush up from your toes to every nerve in your body, setting them on fire. You squeeze his hand and laugh.

“Good?” He asks.

“I love it.”

You don’t know how long you stand there, holding onto Soonyoung’s hand and letting the water wash over you. After a few waves, it doesn’t feel cold anymore. You stand until your feet are buried in wet sand, each wave sending you lower and lower.

“My feet are freezing,” Soonyoung eventually says.

“Mine, too.” You lift your feet reluctantly, already missing the coarse sand and cold water. You have to let go of Soonyoung’s hand to put on your socks and shoes, shuddering at all the sand in your socks. The cotton became damp from sitting too close to the water, your shoes faring the same. Yet you don’t regret a second of it.

You stand up and stretch, feeling your spine pop. When you turn back around, you almost scream. You manage to contain it to a gasp, a wheezing Soonyoung’s name. He blinks at you innocently, like he isn’t standing in front of you with his shirt in his hand.

“What are you doing?” You choke out.

“We’re at the beach,” he says. “I have to take pictures.”

“And you need to take off your shirt for that?”

“Why? Does it bother you?” He smirks.

Muscles have never been a selling point for you. The “people” you’ve crushed on have all been smart or kind, crushes of intellect rather than bodies. His toned abs, sculpted shoulders, the way his body curves gently as he allows you to stare at him–normally it wouldn’t get to you at all (other than the embarrassment of being this close to a shirtless man for the first time in a long time). But it’s not just the muscles. It’s Soonyoung, your Soonyoung who calls you at four in the morning to tell you about the movie he just finished and is too endearing for you to truly be annoyed at. It’s the Soonyoung that gets lost in the Engineering building even as a senior. It’s the Soonyoung that drags you to the beach in the middle of the night just to make you smile. Yes, it bothers you. No one should be this incredible and hot.

“No,” you mumble, failing to convince yourself of the lie.

Soonyoung seems to be done teasing you, dropping his shirt into your hands. He walks a little closer to the waves, apparently not bothered by the chilly ocean breeze. He starts to pose, then raises his eyebrows. “Aren’t you going to take pictures?”

“Where’s your phone?”

“The camera’s broken,” he says. “Just use yours and you can send them to me.” He continues to pose, flexing his arms as subtly as he can which isn’t particularly subtle (though the muscles are even more impressive in person). You are tempted to reach out and feel the tension, before you realize you are staring again.

You numb to Soonyoung in this half-dressed state as you take the pictures. The frat must have a professional photographer or something, because Soonyoung knows how to pose. Despite some of the angles and positions seeming awkward, each picture comes out as if from a photoshoot. He only gives you a few instructions on taking pictures, and compliments you way beyond your talents.

“Just like that!” Soonyoung says, breaking his model face to grin at you. “You’re really good at this.”

“You can’t even see the pictures,” you say. You bite your lips so you don’t smile. Apparently that doesn’t matter, because he keeps posing. It’s a good thing you just upgraded your phone storage because you estimate at least a thousand pictures are taken for each pose.

“Are you guys done?” You jump at the voice next to you. Apparently Joshua returned from his walk, sneaking up using the crashing waves as cover. “We should head back soon if you want to make your morning classes.”

“Definitely want to,” you say. You haven’t gotten any work done, but that’s no excuse to skip class. Soonyoung pouts but doesn’t argue.

“Perfect!” Joshua claps his hands together. He shoves you toward Soonyoung and grabs your phone. “One more picture together and we’ll go.”

Being at a distance worked perfectly fine but those muscles have you frozen in place again. Soonyoung throws an arm over your shoulders and grins like you do this all the time. His biceps press through your jacket, the flex of the muscle exactly as you imagined it, not that it stops your heart from thundering.

You can’t help but steal a glance at Soonyoung. Despite feeling like you’ll malfunction at any second, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. Soonyoung’s features look soft this close, even the sharp cut of his jawline. You want to study every line of his face, each curve, memorize it until the way his lips slowly curl into a smile is carved into your heart. Spending the rest of your life here doesn’t seem too bad.

“Let’s go,” Joshua says, breaking whatever magic froze time for you. You are left with cold toes and sand in your sneakers as you march up the dune and back to Joshua’s car.

“I just cleaned it,” he groans, looking at all the sand you and Soonyoung tracked in.

You mumble an apology but when you try to offer to clean it for him, he shakes his head. “Nobody touches my baby.”

You glance at Soonyoung, who followed you into the backseat again. He rolls his eyes at Joshua, smiling in a way that you know means he isn’t serious. You smile back at him and click your seatbelt into place.

“Address?” Joshua asks, handing you his phone. You punch it in and hand the phone back. 3 hours and sixteen minutes.

Joshua whistles, seeing the arrival time of 4:53. “Remind me never to do this again.”

“The beach was your idea,” Soonyoung says. His words slur a little.

“Just go to sleep already,” Joshua says. The engine rumbles on and he pulls away from the empty boardwalk.

“‘m not even tired,” Soonyoung says, fighting a yawn. He slouches and leans against the headrest, rolling his head to look at you. “You have class in the morning?”

“Not until nine.”

“That’s good.” He doesn’t succeed in fighting the yawn this time. His blinks become longer and longer, eyes closing more than opening. It’s like watching the energizer bunny shut down.

“Soonyoung?”

He opens his eyes and you think maybe he’d wait for the rest of his life for you to say something.

“Thank you.”

“Always.” He smiles lazily. “I swore I’d do anything.”

His sworn loyalty. It should be fun, having a boy like him dedicated to fulfilling your wishes. But what would it be like if he wasn’t sworn to you? If he did these kinds of things just because he wants to?

You didn’t think you were tired but the next thing you know, Soonyoung gently shakes you awake.

“We’re here,” he says in a quiet, very un-Soonyoung voice.

You blink at him, trying to figure out why your neck hurts so much, frowning at the unfamiliar surroundings. From the rear view mirror, Joshua watches you. Right, instead of writing your essay, doing the problem sets, or any of the readings, you went to the beach. You wait for the guilt to set in but it doesn’t come. None of the anxieties from earlier in the evening (the technical part of your brain reminds you it was the night before) overwhelm you.

“Right,” you say, clearing your throat. Your mouth tastes nasty but before you can say anything, Soonyoung hands you a water bottle. You take a sip before saying thank you.

Soonyoung unbuckles his seatbelt. “I’ll walk you up.”

You nod, grateful you don’t have to ask him. The night has been a full adventure on its own yet you aren’t quite ready for it to be over. At least you aren’t ready to say goodbye to Soonyoung.

There’s still something you want to tell him. You want to tell him that you like his blonde hair, even though everyone else thinks it’s ridiculous. You want to tell him that you lied earlier, you nearly lost your mind seeing him shirtless. You want to tell him that you feel proud when he gets the right answer on the first try, that you think his concentration frown is cute, that you’ve never enjoyed studying like you do when he’s by your side. You want to tell him that on your worst days, days like today, just being Soonyoung makes it better.

But you learned a long time ago tired ramblings and drunk confessions are siblings. They both end in heartbreak and twelve packs of ramen.

So you ride the elevator with him and watch the lights flicker. You never cared when Jihoon brought his friends (well, Jun) over, but the carpets that look dirty no matter how many times they’re cleaned and beige walls are even worse tonight. You can stand to live in a boring apartment, but not a dirty one.

“This is me,” you say, gesturing to 808. You turn your back on the door, facing Soonyoung instead. He looks radiant under the fluorescent hallway lights, which really isn’t fair. They make his bleach blonde hair look natural, highlight the blemishes on his skin, easy to see when he’s this close.

You should go inside and he should go back down but neither of you move. For the second time tonight, you are frozen in time with Soonyoung.

The floor creaks and you jump, turning around at the same time, accidentally knocking into Soonyoung’s chest as you turn to face the noise behind you. Jihoon, gym bag over his shoulder, frowns at you across the hallway.

“Are you seriously just getting back now?”

Shit. You never texted him. “Um, Jihoon, this is Soonyoung,” you say. He waves behind you. “Soonyoung, Jihoon.”

Jihoon folds his arms. “I’ve heard about you.” You glare at him, which he ignores. “You’re taking the LSAT on a dare?”

“You’re the one that wants to be a music producer?”

Jihoon raises his eyebrows and looks at you. “You’ve mentioned me?”

“Only the worst,” you say, smiling at him.

“I thought you were at the library all night?” Jihoon says.

“We went on an adventure,” you say. You show him your sandy shoes. He raises his eyebrows but doesn’t say anything. It’s clear he knows he interrupted something, but the stubborn asshole doesn’t move.

You turn back to Soonyoung. “Goodnight,” you say, resisting the urge to hug him.

“It’s morning,” Jihoon says.

“Goodnight,” Soonyoung says, glancing at Jihoon. He pauses and fidgets with the hem of his shirt but finally gives you a half hug that feels more like a bro hug than anything else. He disappears into the elevator then pops his head out a final time “Send me the photos!”

You turn to Jihoon. “I forgot to text you.”

“I figured I’d wait until the morning to call,” he said. “Even if you were kidnapped there’s still a 90% chance you’d figure out a way to show up for class on time.” He turns the key in the lock and strides into the apartment. You’re too tired to argue back, especially when he’s right, so you just follow him into the apartment.

“I like him,” Jihoon says before you vanish into your room.

“Should I find you a wedding dress?” You say. “Soonyoung is single.”

Jihoon rolls his eyes and grabs a protein shake from the fridge. “Why do I even bother?”

You don’t wait for him to leave first, peeling your shoes off in the entryway where you can sweep up the sand and practically fall into your room. It’s race to change into an old t-shirt before you collapse onto your bed.

You set an alarm for 8:30 and check fifty times to make sure it’s actually set. Then you open your camera roll, shaking your head at the countless pictures. You choose twenty non-blurry ones before your eyes start to droop. You scroll to the bottom and click on the pictures Joshua took. Soonyoung grins for the camera, his easy smile as captivating on your phone as it is in person. You are staring at him, a soft smile on your lips and hearts practically bugging out of your eyes. It’s so ridiculously obvious how you feel. You send him his thirst traps and keep that picture for yourself.

It takes a week for you to realize Soonyoung never posted the pictures.

The weight of the world has the decency to wait until you’re home to fall on your shoulders. You hold your keys up and can’t push it into the lock. If you didn’t do well today, it means the past two months have been a complete waste–all the studying, the assignments you got low grades on because you were studying, the nights you spent at your desk–wasted and doomed to repeat.

All but the time you spent with Soonyoung. Even if you fail (again), he should at least score decently, and you can’t consider that a complete waste.

You raise your key to insert it into the lock but the door flies open. Jihoon glares at you, arms folded over his chest. “What the hell is taking you so long, your boyfriend is here.”

You peer past him and find Soonyoung lounging on the couch, feet resting on the coffee table. He sits up when he sees you, grinning and waving. You wonder if he’s been there since you told him you were finished. You make a mental note to get Jihoon his favorite protein shakes.

“How did you know I was here?”

“Me and your boyfriend heard you shaking your keys in front of the door for like twenty minutes,” Jihoon says.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you mutter, praying Soonyoung didn’t hear either of you. You push past Jihoon, letting him lock the door behind you. Soonyoung jumps off the couch as soon as you drop your bag, almost tackling you in a hug. You pretend not to hear Jihoon’s scoff as he locks himself in his room again.

“How’d it go?” He asks, squeezing you one more time before letting go. You try not to feel disappointed about it. “I mean, I know you did amazing, but how do you feel? Was the room super hot or super cold? Did the proctor give you the evil eye when you turned in your paper because they were secretly trying to sabotage you?”

“No?” You frown. “And the room was fine, I felt pretty good about it, but I felt good last time, so I don’t really know, I just really don’t want to take it again.” You sigh. “I know you want to know as many details as possible for your test, but I really, really don’t want to think about it right now.”

Soonyoung grins and pulls out a package of White Claws and a bottle of vodka from a plastic bag that you just noticed sitting on your coffee table. “That’s perfect because I brought a gift from the whole frat.”

“That seems pretty on brand,” you say.

“And a gift from me.” He digs again and pulls out a DVD. Pride and Prejudice and Zombies.

“You’re kidding.” You say. “I think I have to be drunk to watch that.”

“You don’t have faith in my taste in movies?” Soonyoung asks but he pops open the first drink and slips something shaped concerningly like a knife out of his pocket and stabs the can, chugging it before it can really spill on your carpet. Before you can register what he did, he tosses the empty can on the coffee table, immediately scrambling to straighten it. “Sorry, force of habit.”

“Soonyoung, I don’t think I can keep up with you,” you say, sitting slowly onto the couch.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m a lightweight,” he says. “I definitely should not have chugged that.”

“I guess I better catch up,” you say, unscrewing the vodka and pouring a shot in the little paper cups that Soonyoung brought. The acrid scent curls your lip but you knock it back as fast as you can, forcing it down when you miss the back of your throat and it burns your tongue. Soonyoung hands you a can, the lime flavored seltzer pushing the nasty flavor out of your mouth.

“Yeah, I’m terrible at that,” you say.

Soonyoung shrugs. “I’m not one to judge. You should have seen me as a pledge.”

You grin at the mental image of Soonyoung wearing a fake toga made of bedsheets. “I bet you were adorable.” You take another sip of the drink (which tastes significantly worse when you aren’t comparing it to straight vodka) and miss Soonyoung scrambling for words.

“I can’t drink this,” you declare, setting the can down. You cross the room to the fridge, opening it and studying the contents. Soonyoung follows you, resting his chin on the door and glancing inside.

“Jihoon does most of the cooking,” you say, feeling self-conscious. Not much populates your fridge, a package of chicken breast and a carton of eggs. A couple containers of take out that are either two days or two weeks old sit in front, and the drawer of fruit that is filled with apples from Jihoon’s mother definitely smells funny.

“I live in a frat house, this is heaven.”

You flash him a smile and grab the orange juice, shaking it as you grab a glass from the cabinet (thank god Jihoon did the dishes last night). Soonyoung follows you back to the couch and waits for you to pour a glass and add two shots of vodka. You raise the glass and he takes your rejected White Claw and clinks it.

“Cheers,” he says, sipping this one instead of chugging it. He sets it down and leans against the armrest so that he can face you. “How did you meet Jihoon, by the way? He seems like a pretty reserved dude.”

“Yeah, sorry if he was short with you, he isn’t half as mean as he pretends to be,” you say.

“We actually talked a lot.” He pauses, tilting his head as he thinks about it. “Well, a lot about working out. I think I could turn him into my gym buddy with enough pressure.”

“I would pay to see that,” you say. Jihoon tried to bring you to the gym exactly once, and you have regretted it ever since. The soreness haunts you, but you think Soonyoung might be one of the few people on the planet that could keep up with him with those arms.

“I didn’t know you were into that,” Soonyoung says with a giggle. You roll your eyes.

“You know for a fact that’s not what I meant,” you say, “and to answer your question, we lived in the same dorm freshman year. He was next door, and both our roommates were psychotic, so we ended up trading. We’ve been living together ever since because I’m the only one that can put up with his annoying ass. Also he cooks and keeps me alive during finals.”

“I can’t believe I was a dorm assignment away from living with you.” Soonyoung shakes his head and pretends to sigh. “Fate isn’t on my side.”

“Don’t you live in a frat house?”

“Semantics,” Soonyoung says. He pauses. “Semen-tics.” He starts to laugh and though the joke is far from funny, you find yourself giggling too.

“You’re drunk,” you say.

Soonyoung points at you. “I’m pretty sure you’re drunk too.”

You tilt your head from side to side, trying to think at first but the motion feels nice, toeing the line between dizzying and comfortable. Right, you were checking if you were drunk. You have your answer, but you don’t want to stop spinning just yet.

“Do you really want to be a lawyer?” Soonyoung asks. You freeze with your head on your right shoulder, frowning at him. “I mean, like, how do you know?”

“It makes good money,” you say. “Well, corporate law does. Everything going according to plan, I’ll be out of debt before I’m thirty, retiring at 65.”

“But how do you know that’s what you want?” Soonyoung asks. You wonder if he’s asking you or himself. You think about the first day you met him.

It was the first day of your sophomore year, 8 in the morning in the worst classroom in the Armhayer Building at the end of a dead end hallway with no windows. The business program had a required career building course and some cruel administrator decided to make the other available class clash with the other required business class for the year, so half the class was people you were stuck with for the full year. Despite its reputation, the business school at the university seemed to only accept idiots.

You settled for a long semester of biting back your eye rolls and yawning through class, choosing a seat in the front so that at least you won’t have to look at anyone else. And for fifteen minutes, you struggled to keep your eyes open.

Then Soonyoung walked in.

He was out of breath, telling the professor that he got lost several times and someone gave him the wrong directions. You didn’t really pay attention to him until he dropped into the seat next to you. Fully prepared to give him a side eye and judge him for the rest of the semester, Soonyoung flashed a smile at you and apologized for disrupting you. He was so obviously not your type, yet when his head dropped on your shoulder, you didn’t wake him up. Two classes later when the professor told the class that you would be in a semester-long partner project, you didn’t hesitate to say yes when Soonyoung asked you.

Soonyoung hadn’t ever taken the class seriously, going through the motions and doing the bare minimum for most of the assignments. You never paid any attention to it, but you realize that he never actually told you what he planned to do with his life, always asking you what you planned to do with your copious amounts of money. Now you wonder if it was because he really doesn’t know.

“I want stability,” you finally say. “This plan is stable. Safe, as long as everything goes according to plan. I guess it’s not as cool as dreaming about being an astronaut or whatever, but it’s what I want.”

“I think it’s cool. Knowing what you want to do.” Soonyoung says with little enthusiasm.

“You don’t have any idea?”

He shrugs. “I have to be smart to do the things I want to do.”

“You are smart.”

“You don’t have to pander to me, I’m not looking for your pity.”

“Soonyoung.” You wait for him to look you in the eyes. “You are smart. This isn’t pity. Sure it takes you a little longer to read things, and you have to work a little harder to answer some questions, but that doesn’t mean you’re not smart. You’re just as capable as me, more capable when it comes to emotional intelligence. Have you ever noticed that wherever you go, someone is always waving to you? I don’t think there’s a single person in this world that doesn’t like you. Don’t downplay how important that is.”

He chews on his lip and you know he doesn’t believe you. How many people have told him he’s dumb? You want to drag every single one of them here and make them apologize, make them realize how special the boy in front of you is. Eventually he shrugs. “I’ll just end up being an intern, and then I’ll be so charming they’ll promote me without realizing I don’t know what I’m doing and I’ll become a CEO that pays people to do the job for me.”

You smile and shake your head. “We can vacation together in the Bahamas.”

“Please, that’s where the semi-rich people go,” Soonyoung says, lifting his head from the back of the couch. “We’ll have our own islands and sail past each other.” This time when he smiles, the sparkle glints, just a little. His bleach blonde hair sticks in strange angles from rubbing against the couch, looking a little like a fuzzball. You reach a hand out and pat it down, except the hair is fried from being bleached so many times and almost breaks under your hand.

When you pull your hand down, Soonyoung is staring at you. Except staring isn’t the right word. He looks at you like no one else ever has, a thousand unsaid words behind his eyes, a language like no other that maybe only you can understand. Those dark eyes, so soft and warm, begging you to drown in them. He’s a siren, luring you in with a song of desire that only you can hear.

You don’t realize you’ve leaning closer until you fall forward, catching yourself on his chest. Soonyoung’s hand flies to your waist, moving so fast it must have been reflex.

“Sorry,” you mutter but you don’t get off him. Resisting his eyes from this close is impossible. Soonyoung blinks at you, frozen. It occurs to you that you’re almost kissing him. All you have to do is lean forward, press your lips against his. Would his lips be chapped? Would he kiss you back? Would he make fun of you for being a terrible kisser? You hold your breath, wondering if you are about to find out.

You jump at the bang of a door slamming shut. You push off Soonyoung’s chest, back to your side of the couch until your back slams against the armrest. The pain is almost enough to sober you up and you realize exactly what you were about to do. You can’t bear to look at Soonyoung staring at you so you look at Jihoon instead, who doesn’t seem to realize that he interrupted anything by walking into the kitchen, headphones blasting music so loud that you can hear it. He grabs one of the takeout containers from the fridge and finally notices you and Soonyoung staring at him.

“What?” He shouts over his headphones. You shake your head and he stares at you all the way back to his room, slamming the door shut behind him with enough force to make you jump again.

“We should probably start the movie,” you say, turning to face forward, anywhere but Soonyoung. “I’ll get my laptop.” He doesn’t say anything but you can feel Soonyoung’s eyes on you as you jump up. Ignoring the spinning in your head, you walk to your room. You lean against the door as soon as it shuts behind you, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath.

You wish you could blame the idiocy on the alcohol, but you aren’t drunk enough for that. Besides, regardless of the reason, it was a mistake, it would be a mistake, to kiss Soonyoung. No matter how badly you want to do it.

Your computer sits on your desk. The longer it takes for you to get back, the stranger it will be, so you grab it and return to the couch. Dizziness gives you an excuse to peer at the floor, perfectly valid reason to avoid Soonyoung’s eyes.

“Are you ready to have your mind blown?” He asks when you insert the DVD into your laptop.

You raise your eyebrows but still don’t have the courage to face him. “It’s that good?”

Soonyoung laughs easily, as if nothing happened. “You have no idea what you’re in for.”

You peek at him from the corner of your eye. He faces the computer, sitting back against the couch. Other than his red tinted cheeks, you can’t tell he’s drunk at all. You have no idea what you’re in for, he said. He has no idea how right he is.

You hold Soonyoung by the shoulders, staring him down. Your eyes begin to water but you hold them open, determined not to lose. Soonyoung squints, tears forming in the corner of his eyes. You just have to hold out a little longer, but your eyes begin to ache and the air pierces into them.

“Damn!” Soonyoung cries, throwing himself back onto the couch and squeezing his eyes shut. You let go of his shoulders and resist the urge to rub your eyes, settling for blinking as fast as humanly possible. Your eyes burn but you smile anyways, wiping tears away with the back of your hand.

“How are you so good at that?” Soonyoung asks. He gives into the impulse, hands pressed against his eyes.

“I’m really not, I think you’re just bad at staring contests,” you say. “Now hurry up, you lost so you have to answer.”

He sighs as if he didn’t beg you to help him study. With only a day before his test, you’re not sure how much this is really helping, but at least he isn’t partying with the rest of his frat (who do a pre-finals bar crawl, apparently). Instead, Soonyoung is on your couch, again. You try not to think about the last time he was here. Not productive thoughts, especially not when Soonyoung is one day away from taking the most important test of his life.

“Is it B?”

“Are you asking or telling?”

“I hate when you say that.” He peers at the paper, eyes moving slowly as he rereads the line. “No, it’s C! Wait, no, B. No, A!”

“Pick an answer.”

He chews on his lip. You have to force yourself to keep your focus on his eyes. “B,” he finally says.

You’re tempted to drag it out and make him wait but he puts on the Soonyoung Sparkle so you go ahead and nod.

“I knew it! Trust your gut!”

“You’re quoting me now.” You pretend to wipe tears from the corner of your eyes. “You’ve grown up so quickly.”

If it were Jihoon, he’d roll his eyes but Soonyoung perks up, as if you’ve given him a real compliment. He pauses before asking his next question, eyes flickering to the papers separating you from him.

“You really think I’ll do well?” He asks softly.

You study him, the way his unnaturally blonde hair has been strategically gelled to stick up in all the right places, the way his plain white t-shirt hangs loose on his shoulders. You wonder what he sees when he looks in the mirror because the way he sits now, waiting for an answer as if you’d actually say no, breaks your heart a little. He really has no idea how brilliant he is, in every sense of the word. You don’t know how to make him see it so you just take his hand and wait for him to look you in the eyes.

The second the glittering dark irises meet yours, you see the desperation. He tries to smile, to hide the fear but Soonyoung has always been easy to read. You fight the urge to brush your fingers against his cheek.

“Soonyoung.” You squeeze his hand. What you feel isn’t a passing crush, you’ve known that for a while now. Admitting it doesn’t give you the bravery to do anything except pull the shield of cowardice around your heart a little tighter. “I’d be an idiot if I said I didn’t.”

He holds your gaze a little longer, until it almost looks like he believes you. Then his eyes light up. “I have a surprise for you!”

He digs into his backpack, pulling out a blanket (not the one he used when it was still warm enough to sit outside in the grass), a plastic water bottle half-full of bright green liquid, three crumpled flyers for events on campus, and finally, a small rectangular item, carefully wrapped in paper towels.

“I was a little worried it would get damaged in my backpack,” he says. “I really, really tried to walk gently and didn’t bring it near any coffee.”

You choose not to point out the unnatural liquid in the plastic water bottle, instead appreciating his efforts to protect whatever your surprise is. Besides, it’s not like he didn’t try. He carefully pulls the paper towels off, revealing a navy blue leather bound book with gilded lettering. Not just any book.

“You got it back?” You cry. Soonyoung pulls the rest of the paper towels off to reveal the intricate design on the cover, the golden pages, with Pride and Prejudice inscribed on the spine. “My baby!”

You hover over the book, not wanting to ruin it with the dirt and oils from your hands but so desperately wanting to caress the beautiful book. It’s just as you remember it, down to the tiny dent on the front cover where you accidentally knocked it against a railing. You can’t wait to put it back on your bookshelf where there has been an empty space ever since Jun managed to snag it. You remember Soonyoung is there when you hear his laughter.

“You like it that much?”

“Of course,” you say. “It’s my baby.”

“It’s a book.” But he smiles and you know he’s just teasing. So you figure, why not?

You throw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. His frat-bro instincts must take charge because he doesn’t hesitate to hug you back, pulling you against his chest and squeezing you like he’s the one getting a gift.

“Thank you,” you say. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“This is my thank you,” he says. You can feel his voice rumbling in his chest, a strange sensation that sends butterflies tumbling around between your stomach and your heart. “It’s the least I could do for you.

The awkward position isn’t exactly comfortable, twisting your body to face him with your shoulder overtop of his forcing your face into his neck but you don’t want to let go. You give yourself five more thundering heartbeats before you let go, turning to study your book again so you have an excuse to avoid his eyes.

“How did you get it back?”

“Same way you lost it,” Soonyoung says. “I made a bet.”

“On what?”

Soonyoung shrugs, turning to look at the book that still sits in his lip. He gently places it into yours, using the paper towels to prevent smudging with his fingers.

You frown. “How? Jun is in another hemisphere.”

“Don’t underestimate the power of video calls and express shipping,” Soonyoung says. “By the way, I’m wearing your friends down. Pretty soon they’ll like me more than they like you.

“Oh really?” You raise your eyebrow. You ignore the vole gnawing at your gut whispering that he might just be right.

“I got Jihoon to go to the gym with me and I got him to admit I was friends with you before he was,” he says, holding a finger out. “Jun says that he wants to meet me the second he returns to the country.” A second finger goes up. “Who else can I add to the list?”

He’s only joking. He doesn’t mean it the way it sounds, but your skin wants to crawl inside out. The truth is, they are pretty much your only friends. Jihoon, Jun, and Soonyoung, the latter two having wormed their way into your life. My only friends.

“You’ve got to start going on the offensive,” Soonyoung says. He avoids your eyes and you know he didn’t miss your discomfort. Great, now he pities you. “I’m serious, Seokmin and Joshua have been asking about you, and Seungcheol keeps complaining that he hasn’t met you yet.”

You snort. “They’re frat bros, they just want more people to party with.”

“I’m a frat bro,” he says.

“Yeah, but…” But what? He’s Soonyoung? Once again, you wonder why he is so different to you–why the epitome of frat boy chaos doesn’t repulse you like he should. But he isn’t some one-dimensional steroid-infused party boy, not the type to bully the freshman trying to join just because he can. He gets drunk after two shots and makes his pledges follow him for 24 hours a day as “hazing,” only to take them for a dinner he can’t afford and skips his own classes so they don’t miss theirs.

He’s not a typical frat boy. But Soonyoung loves his frat, and you can’t find a way to tell him this without making it sound like you are looking down on the rest of the members.

So you just say, “Isn’t this supposed to be a study session?”

Soonyoung sighs, pulling the book in front of him and staring at the words. Even though you can see that he isn’t reading, he doesn’t say anything else.

“Your test is tomorrow,” you say.

“Yeah, I know.” He doesn’t pick up the pencil.

You’ve never struggled to read Soonyoung. He can’t hide when he’s upset, shoulders slumping, a little pout forming over his lips. He doesn’t fully frown but his eyebrows comes together, just a bit. And it’s usually easy to figure out what’s wrong–he’s tired, or wants to be at a party instead of studying. But now? He was fine just a moment ago, even while he was cramming earlier.

“Is something wrong?” You don’t know why you’re so scared of the answer.

“I just thought that… nNever mind.” He sighs again. “You’re right, this is a study session. I should be studying.” He doesn’t look at you and you can’t help but feel like you messed up. But Soonyoung eventually picks up his pencil and asks you to check his answers and the feeling slowly fades.

Will the rest of your feelings fade when you aren’t with him like this anymore? When he takes his test and has no reason to see you every day? Will your heart still beat at the mention of his name? Will you spend the rest of your life thinking about all the almosts with him? Or will it fade until Soonyoung is just a boy that you helped because of a silly bet?

Even as you consider it, you know the answer. He isn’t just a boy, and he never will be. Maybe that’s what really scares you.

You glare at Soonyoung. “Do you know what time it is?”

Jihoon glances at his watch. “7:43.”

Soonyoung grins beside him, arm over his shoulder. Both boys stand in your bedroom doorway looking far too composed for this ungodly hour.

“It’s a Saturday.” Just two minutes ago you were in blissful sleep. Okay, maybe not blissful, since you stayed up until three in the morning because you couldn’t fall asleep, and you were having a weird dream where you were looking for something and ended up by the stadium staring at a giant duck statue instead of the raven. But the point is you were asleep until two fists banged on your door so loud you thought it was going to fall apart.

You can’t even be that mad at Soonyoung, not when he smiles like that. So you glare at Jihoon.

“Honestly, I figured you would be up,” he says. “You were the one that said you didn’t think you were going to get any sleep.”

“I’m sorry,” Soonyoung says. “I really just wanted to help distract you for the last hour.” Right. The last hour until your entire future would be determined by a triple digit number. No biggie.

“Let me get dressed,” you say. They step back before you have the chance to slam the door in their face. You’d like to be able to dress up nicely, but you’re already shivering, so you grab your comfiest sweatpants and the sweatshirt Soonyoung lent you (that still smells like his cologne). You dart into the bathroom and meet the two boys in the doorway of the apartment, pulling on your sneakers.

You pull the hood over your messy hair and tighten the strings. Soonyoung grins at you and taps your nose.

“Ready to go?”

“How did you get out of bed this early?”

“Oh, I never got in,” he says. “Long story, but we gotta go, they won’t wait much longer.”

“They?” You ask but Soonyoung doesn’t hear you. He turns to Jihoon, waving.

“See you tomorrow!” He says, throwing an arm over your shoulders to pull you out the door. “I’ll let you know how it goes!”

Jihoon rolls his eyes. “Whatever.” But he looks at you and smiles. “It’ll be fine.” Before you can thank him, he shuts the door.

Soonyoung doesn’t let go of your side, pulling you to the elevators and squeezing you against him. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I should be asleep.”

Soonyoung smiles, as if your grumpiness is funny. You decide it’s moot since there’s no way you could fall asleep now that you are an hour and seven minutes away from finding out the results of your future.

“I figured I’d save you from wallowing in worry,” Soonyoung says. “We can do fun things while we wait. I planned out the whole morning, we have options! There’s going to the gym, or for a job around campus, breaking into the science lab and petting the rabbits, going to Barb’s for breakfast–”

“Breakfast,” you say. You aren’t a huge fan of getting in trouble with the college when you have just over a semester before graduation and though you aren’t sure if your stomach will accept food, working out is a guarantee for throwing up. Besides, a hot cup of coffee could clear a little of the fog in your brain.

“Barb’s it is,” Soonyoung says, practically bouncing on his toes. He really seems to only have two settings, and today he’s at 120%.

He lets go of your side when the elevator opens and you step to the ground floor of your apartment. You rub your arms and pretend like the chill is from the weather even though the lobby is still warm. He holds the door for you pretending to be a doorman, bowing and gesturing with his arm for you to pass. You turn so that he doesn’t see that the silly gesture made you smile.

Parked outside is a white jeep that looks larger than normal, and is apparently the asshole that’s been blasting their music for the past ten minutes. You aren’t surprised in the slightest when Soonyoung strides up to the car.

“I don’t have a car,” he says, belatedly apologetic. The two men in the front seat don’t seem to mind, though you suspect they have been up all night along with Soonyoung as soon as the door opens and you hear their voices singing off-tune over the blasting music.

“Boy, you got my heartbeat runnin' away,” The driver cries, using a water bottle as a mic. You recognize Seungcheol from Soonyoung’s descriptions, half from his voice and half from the back of his head. The person riding shotgun is also familiar, a mess of dark hair that must be Joshua. He doesn’t look much different in daylight, sunglasses resting on his forehead. Thankfully they turn the music down a little and stop singing when you get it.

Seungcheol grins at you through the mirror. “So I finally get to meet the infamous YN. You know, you still haven’t shown up to any parties.”

“I’ve been busy,” you say, glancing at Soonyoung who focuses a little too much on his seatbelt.

“Hi, YN,” the passenger up front says, waving at you through the rearview mirror.

“Joshua,” you say. “Get into life and death scenarios with Soonyoung recently?”

“Well, Soonyoung jumped out of a car window.” He pauses. “It wasn’t moving,” he adds when Seungcheol jerks his head towards him. “Though I wouldn’t put it past him.”

“I have done it before,” Soonyoung says solemnly. It takes him a moment to realize everyone is staring at him. “It was a dare.”

“Why am I not surprised,” Seungcheol grumbles, turning back around and putting the car into drive. Though you were thinking something along the same lines, the way Soonyoung deflates a little makes you wish Seungcheol hadn’t said anything.

The rest of the drive is quiet–at least in terms of conversation. Seungcheol cranks his stereo up to the loudest setting and blasts the Spice Girls until Joshua starts singing along. Apparently car karaoke for “Wannabe” is sacrilegious to the frat leader.

You can hear yourself think again when the car pulls into the parking lot and he finally cuts the engine. A few cars line the parking lot of the 24 hour diner that sits on the outskirts of campus. The giant neon red Barb’s that hangs over the entrance flickers in the cloudy morning light teeters the line between quaint and electrical fire waiting to happen.

The workers, a host and three waitresses, wave at the boys, and do a double take at you. You swear you hear the host whisper “Is that really them?” to Joshua as he leads the group to a table in the corner but Soonyoung distracts you with the menu.

“I had this thing memorized since freshman year, I can’t believe you’ve never been here. The pancakes are my favorite for hangover cures, not that I’m hungover by the way, I’m actually running on my third energy drink.” He taps the picture, a golden stack of perfectly fluffy pancakes that can only be photoshop.

“Aren’t energy drinks bad for your heart?”

Soonyoung shrugs. “Joshua invented this to get through finals, you mix Red Bull, Bang, and Coke and it keeps you up for three days straight. Great for when you’re nervous because you physically have to do something about it.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” you say. “Wait, why are you nervous?”

“Your test results come out today,” he says too quickly.

You consider debating with him but a waitress approaches, wearing a fifties frock and a high ponytail with a ribbon that probably looked like a bow at the start of her shift but has drooped down and now just looks sad. Her face is a mask of emotions, not a smile, not a frown, just emptiness, a contrast to the button clipped to her collar making her “Happy.”

“The usual?” She asks, pausing at you. She tilts her head and you can see the mask twisting at the edges, a frown almost forming on her brow. She glances at Soonyoung. “Is this who I think it is?”

“Who do you think it is?” Soonyoung asks at the same time that Joshua and Seungcheol say, “Yes.”

The corner of Happy’s lips turn into a tiny smile that seems to be her equivalent of a grin. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Okay, haha, very funny,” Soonyoung says. “Stop harassing my friend. We’ll order when we have a chance to look at the menu.”

Happy raises her eyebrow just slightly at the word “friend,” but closes her notepad. She returns to a pastel pink bar where you can clearly see her whispering and gesturing to you.

“Why do so many people know me?” You mutter, shrinking into the corner of the booth.

“The thing about Drunk Soonyoung is that he doesn’t really shut up,” Seungcheol says.

“That’s being gentle,” Joshua says. “One time he spent four hours describing Finding Nemo. That’s longer than the actual movie.”

“It’s a good movie,” Soonyoung says.

“The point is,” Seungcheol says, glaring at Joshua, “he tends to talk when he’s drunk. Usually about good things, things that he… Well, things that he likes.”

You turn your head to look at Soonyoung, who is once again pretending to study the menu. “You like studying for the LSAT that much?”

Joshua unsuccessfully tries to hide his laugh with a snort while Seungcheol gains slightly more success with a fake cough. Soonyoung doesn’t react at all, staring at the painted flowers on the menu. Eventually, he shrugs. “I’m dedicated to the bet.” He points at a stack of pancakes covered in bananas and chocolate. “That’s what I usually get.”

“Isn’t against all rules of gym core and muscle building to eat decadent things?”

“Did you just call working out ‘gym core?’” Seungcheol asks.

“Am I wrong?”

“Nope!” Soonyoung says brightly. “And cheat days are a thing, so do you want to split it or not?”

“You know I can’t say no to bananas and chocolate.”

“And pancakes!” He waves down the waitress and points to the stack.

“Ah, the new Soonyoung,” she says. “You guys getting your actual usual?”

Joshua and Seungcheol nod and she doesn’t bother to write any of it down. Then again she already knows their orders. Except she called Soonyoung’s “new.” Before you can ask what she meant, a shout makes you jump. You turn around to see a stream of boys entering, enough of whom you recognize that you realize at least half the frat has rolled into the diner. The waitresses roll their eyes and groan but somehow they don’t look all that upset.

“Mr. President!” The tallest boy, Johnny according to Soonyoung’s Instagram tags, holds a fist over his heart and pounds it a couple times. Seungcheol nods and greets each of the boys, most of whom seem to still be in various stages of inebriation. Almost all of them glance at you and whisper to each other, and you get the feeling they know exactly who you are.

Just what has Soonyoung said about you?

“How are we doing on time?” One of them calls out.

“46 minutes,” Joshua says. You frown. 46 minutes… until 9? Do they all know about today?

You tap Soonyoung on the arm. “What’s going on?”

“You see, the thing is,” he says, “apparently I was nervous?” He tries to fake a laugh but it sounds strained. “I don’t really know but the guys made me tell them about today and then I didn’t really know what was happening but I guess they followed us here? Thought you might like moral support, or something.”

You peek out at the booths crowded with frat bros and cringe back into your seat when they grin at you. “They’re all looking at me.”

“Well, I guess I do talk about you a lot,” he says, only loud enough for you to hear. He won’t meet your eyes.

Ask him why. You want to be brave. You want to be right about the answer you think he’ll give you. You chew the inside of your cheek.

“Because of the bet?”

Soonyoung doesn’t answer for a moment. “I guess.”

Coward.

“Why are we whispering?” Joshua asks, leaning across Soonyoung towards you. “Are we gossiping?”

Soonyoung pushes him off. “Butt out.”

“Just telling Soonyoung that I’ve never had an army of drunk guys rooting for me before,” you say.

“Could have had it sooner if you came to a party,” Seungcheol says.

“You really want me at a party that bad? We just met.”

Seungcheol glances at Soonyoung, who shakes his head. He sighs. “If only I could tell you why you need to come.”

You frown between the three men. “I don’t like when people talk in circles over me.”

“Just promise you’ll come to the Christmas party. It’ll all make sense then,” Seungcheol says. You’ve heard a lot about Seungcheol from Soonyoung, and the more you listen to him, the more you believe it. He’s a strange man.

“I’ll think about making an appearance.”

“Really?” Soonyoung whips around to face you and you know that you have to come now. You haven’t seen him this excited since you let him skip studying to party. No, he’s even more excited now. “You’ll come?”

You can’t stand his gaze so you study the placemats. “Maybe.”

He grabs your hand until you meet his eyes. “Please?”

The Soonyoung Sparkle. You never win against it. “Fine.”

“Get a room,” Joshua says behind a very fake cough. You pull your hand back into your lap and pretend like you aren’t embarrassed.

“How long now?” You shout out.

“40 minutes,” someone answers. You groan and lean back into the sofa. Studying was hard enough but waiting makes you want to pull out each individual hair on your head. You stare at the ceiling, trying to decide if the stain looks more like a horse or a flower.

“Look at this.” Soonyoung passes his phone in front of you, forcing you to look down. His Instagram is open to a picture of a kitten looking drunk, face covered in milk. Such and obvious attempt to distract you but you smile anyway.

“Sweet,” you say and even you aren’t sure if you mean the cat or Soonyoung. He shows you cat pictures until the food finally arrives (33 minutes to go). You have to wait another five minutes because Soonyoung insists on having a photoshoot, despite your protests that you look like you just woke up (he raises his eyebrows at that). You stop fighting when Joshua makes him cut a piece of the pancake and feed it to you. Chocolate nearly drops in your lap but Soonyoung shoots his hand out at the last second and catches it.

“Okay, can we please just eat,” you say. Joshua and Seungcheol shrug and pretend like they weren’t instigating the pictures and telling you and Soonyoung how to pose.

Soonyoung was right about the bananas and chocolate. Rich and decadent, they’re delicious. When he cuts you a slice and pushes it toward you, you can even forget the countdown to the end of the world. Or, more accurately, the end of the world doesn’t mean anything to you when Soonyoung smiles at you like that.

You eat slowly enough to bring you to the ten minute mark. Fear mixes with the dessert for breakfast in your stomach, twisting it until it threatens to jump out of your throat. Soonyoung takes your hand under the table and holds it. You don’t run away this time.

He holds you to the planet again, keeps you from floating away and disappearing before you can reach the stars. It’s Soonyoung that keeps your heart beating. Always Soonyoung.

Seungcheol and Joshua chat, Soonyoung piping in a few times, but their words don’t reach you. Stuck somewhere between crushed beneath the weight of the world and floating away, you focus on the clock, watching the seconds tick closer and closer.

“Last minute!” Someone behind you finally shouts. Soonyoung squeezes your hand. You pull up the website on your phone and put in your login information and hover over the SUBMIT. At thirty seconds, they start shouting it out.

“Ten!”

“Nine!”

“Eight!”

“Seven!”

“Six!”

“Five!”

“Four!”

“Three!”

“Two!”

“One!”

Half the guys start cheering already, probably forgetting the count down doesn’t mean as much as the results themselves. You hit SUBMIT and watch the little wheel spin around and around and around until it finally refreshes. The number stares back at you, impossible to read right in front of you.

169.

“Congratulations!” Soonyoung shouts, throwing his arms around you and squeezing while you try to comprehend what that means. 169. The number should be all you can think about but Soonyoung holds you, shouting how proud he is, how he always believed in you.

“169!” Seungcheol shouts, miles away from your bubble. You can hear the guys break out into cheers, hear them chanting the number (which turns into 69) but it’s just you and Soonyoung. The world didn’t end and Soonyoung is still by your side.

The rest of the morning is a blur. Every member of the frat insists on congratulating you, which mostly means a lot of hugs, though one of the more drunk guys tried to spin you around on his shoulder. You laugh when you’d usually frown and find your way back to Soonyoung’s side like a magnet.

Maybe it’s the euphoria that gives you courage.

“Hey Soonyoung?”

“Hm?”

You say it before you can think too much. “Maybe just the two of us next time?”

He grins before you can finish speaking. “I’d love that.”

You have the courtesy to let Soonyoung sleep in as much as he wants. You wait for him at Barb’s, trying to figure out how to call this a date.

You’ve seen him a couple times since you got your score back, but you needed to study for finals and he had to make up for missing a lot of frat activities. You’ve only seen him in passing, nothing to fill the Soonyoung shaped hole in your heart. But today that will change. You will celebrate together and you will tell him how you feel. And then… you have no idea.

It’s just Soonyoung there’s nothing to be nervous about. Too bad your body doesn’t agree with you. Every nerve stands at attention, jumping at the bell that rings when the door opens. You don’t worry when Soonyoung doesn’t get to Barb’s by 8:30 like he said he would. Even at 8:45, you aren’t worried.

It’s only at 8:55 that you really start to wonder where he is. Maybe you should have picked him up. Knowing him, there’s a 50% chance he’s lying in a ditch after a failed attempt to recreate an impossible stunt from Fast and Furious. At 9, you call him. Between each silence in the ring, you wait for his voice but it never comes. He uses the automated voicemail, so you don’t even get his voice telling you to leave a message.

The anxiety turns to fear while you wait. The door rings and you see a fluff of bleach blonde hair and jump up. But though you recognize the face, it isn’t Soonyoung.

Chan, one of the younger members of the frat, with Mingyu and a guy whose name you forgot. They all have the same look in their eyes when they see you, far too much like pity.

“You’re YN, right?” Mingyu asks. “You’re supposed to meet Soonyoung?” The two guys with him, easily identifiable as frat members between their unkempt hair and sweatshirts plastered with Greek letters, stop mid conversation and glance at each other.

“Is he okay?” You ask, still standing in the awkward position in the booth.

“He’s got his score back,” Mingyu says.

“We were supposed to–”

“Yeah, I know,” Mingyu says. “It was a 167. You should really talk to him yourself.” He pauses, glancing at his frat brothers but they shrug. “He’s at the house. See if you can talk some sense into him.”

You’re too afraid to ask any other questions so you just watch Mingyu and the other two walk past, and pretend that they aren’t whispering and stealing glances at you.

Going to a frat house was never on your bucket list but your feet travel without guidance. You find yourself in front of a rather nondescript house. No bodies hang out from windows, no one is passed out in the yard. Then again it’s a weekday.

You pause at the door, wondering if you should knock. You tap your hand on the door and it slides open, the latch bolt pushed completely in. You step inside tentatively, peeking around but it’s quiet. You turn the corner to find an open room and Soonyoung sitting on a couch, glass with a bright liquid in his hand. He doesn’t even look at you.

“Are you seriously drunk right now?”

Soonyoung just shrugs, taking another sip from the glass. Even from here you can smell that it’s more tequila than fruit punch.

You shake your head, crossing the room sitting beside him even though he didn’t invite you to sit down. He was considerably cuter the last time you saw him drunk. You’ve gotten used to the power of Soonyoung’s facial expressions, his smiles, his frowns, the way his eyes glaze over when he’s bored, the way they gleam when he daydreams; they’re as precious to you as Soonyoung himself. But his face is a clean slate now, not a smile, not a frown, just a blank stare.

“You know a 167 is still insanely good, right?”

He shakes his head.

“Soonyoung.” He doesn’t look at you, so you grab his drink. Any other day and you would have failed miserably but his alcohol-impaired senses make him slow enough for you to get a hand on the half-empty glass. He glares at you but you don’t yield, tightening your grip and pulling the bottle even harder.

“Let go,” you growl. “Talk to me like a normal human.”

He shakes his head, pulling on the glass so you yank back, except you overestimate how weak he is like this, and the glass flies out of his hand, the contents spilling all over you. The red liquid sinks into your blue sweater, soaking you through all three layers.

“What the hell?” Soonyoung says.

“That gets your fucking attention? Spilling your drink?” You say. “You know, I really thought you were different.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re acting like a child. So you didn’t win the bet. Who fucking cares? Do you know how hard it is to get higher than a 160? Soonyoung, you are smart, and you worked so hard for this. You could go to law school with that score. You could graduate above a 2.3 if you stopped acting like a stereotypical fuck bro and actually studied.

“You know, you could actually be something if you wanted. You don’t have to get a degree and work at a corporate job that sucks your soul away until the Soonyoung that actually matters is gone. I know it’s easier this way, but if you actually tried to dream, you could do something. I don’t get it, honestly. Because everyone thinks you’re an idiot you act like one? Is that what it is?”

“You don’t have to pretend like you don’t think the same thing.”

You snort. “I don’t, but clearly you won’t believe me. You think that if you have to work for something then it’s not worth it when you could be so much more.”

“Why do you even care?” Soonyoung asks, looking you in the eyes for the first time. For a moment, you think you might actually be wrong, because all you see in his eyes is pain. A physical force that constricts your heart and makes you weak in the knees, Soonyoung looks at you like he’s been fighting a war you never knew about, like he’s been suffering in silence for a lifetime. He looks at you like you’ve broken his heart.

Why do I care? You could scoff. Because I’ve been in love with you ever since you fell asleep on my shoulder. I’ve been fighting this stupid crush for so long that I don’t know who I am without it. I don’t know who I am without you. I care because every day the world proves that we aren’t worthy of this planet, that love can’t solve all problems yet you make me question it all. You don’t just bring light into my life, you make it glitter. And I can’t tell you any of this.

“I don’t know.” The lie tastes bitter but it’s still sweeter than rejection.

“Then why are you here?” Soonyoung looks away. Without his eyes pinning you down, you can breathe again, but every inhale still drags against your heart. You stand up. Afterall, you don’t have an answer for him.

“I take it back. You are an idiot,” you mutter over his head as you walk past him. You make it to the corner of the street before the tears finally spill over your cheeks, and all the way back to your room before you can’t breathe.

Without the distraction of finals, you are left with your own thoughts, your words and Soonyoung’s floating around your head. You have always been something of a hermit but you’ve become J.D. Salinger himself, only leaving your room to sneak into the kitchen and scrounge for scraps of junk food that Jihoon hasn’t thrown away yet. You watch so much reality TV that you start to dream about it.

Every episode the people, a family living on a homestead that just happens to dress in brand name clothes and drive a Benz, fight and cry and make up. You yell at the mother when she forces her daughter to change because she didn’t think polka dots are appropriate and cry along with the daughter when she starts to sniffle in her confessional, wondering if her mother would ever approve of her choices, whether it was clothes or the people she wants to date.

You bet your confessional would be a hit if it was ever filmed. Tears run down your cheeks as you practice it in the mirror, choking out an apology for calling him an idiot and telling the whole world what you aren’t brave enough to tell him.

Jun calls but you can’t answer. He leaves three voicemails: an apology, a goofy one telling you he’ll be back soon, and a final one, yelling at you to pick up or at least let him know you’re alive. You text him an apology you don’t know if you mean. He says thank you anyway and doesn’t call again.

You have no plans to change your schedule (wake up, steal food, cry, sleep) but on the third day you run out of goldfish and can’t find anything in the kitchen that doesn’t make you nauseous. To make matters worse, despite the fact that it’s seven in the morning (the earliest you’ve woken up since the Fight), Jihoon catches you.

You’ve successfully avoided him and his inevitable lecture, slamming your door shut and ignoring his knocks but he catches you off guard today. He sneaks in from his morning workout wearing a black t-shirt and slides that he somehow manages to walk stealthily in, scaring you when you close the fridge and find him standing where the door was.

“Are you done hiding?”

“I’m not hiding,” you mutter.

He folds his arms.

“Fine,” you say. “I’m not done hiding.”

“Well too fucking bad,” Jihoon says. You try to step past him but he holds his arm out. You’ll never beat him in a physical fight so you step back, shaking your head.

“Have it your way. Go ahead.” You wave your hand. “Get it all out. Yell at me or lecture me or whatever, I don’t care. You’re going to tell me that I’m an idiot? That I shouldn’t be so afraid of rejection, that I’m blind to how he feels?

“Or are you going to tell me that I shouldn’t trust someone like him? That I shouldn’t be crying over a goddamn frat boy, I’m better than this, I’m better than him.” You choke back a sob, not sure what words are coming out anymore. You wipe at the tears in your eyes and are so focused on trying not to cry that you don’t notice Jihoon walking away. You do see him come back, blurry shape coming into focus as you blink away the tears. He holds something in his hand, a navy blue square. A throw pillow from the couch?

He shifts it in his hand until he holds the corner with the zipper, swinging it a couple times back and forth. Then he yanks his arm back and arcs the pillow in a wide loop, landing directly on your head.

“Ow!” You cry but Jihoon just swings again, hitting your arm this time. He hits you so hard it knocks you off balance, sending you to the floor. Jihoon doesn’t hesitate, swinging the pillow into you again and again, every inch of you.

“You. Are. An. Idiot.” He grunts out each word with a blow. “You really think you’re better than him?”

He finally pauses, not even breathing heavily. You shake your head to answer him. “Of course not.”

“Good,” he says. Then he hits you again and again and again.

“Ow, Jihoon, what the hell?” You bury your head in your knees and hold your arms over you, trying in vain to protect yourself.

“I’m not your babysitter,” he says. “I’m not your father, or your brother, or any of that shit. I’m your best friend and you’re being an idiot and I’m not going to stop hitting you until you get some sense knocked into you.” He freezes, as if realizing exactly what he said. “Wait, no–that’s not what I mean, shit, sorry, but–”

You peek out from your arms and find Jihoon opening and closing his mouth, trying to figure out what to say. He looks like a fish out of water, and it occurs to you he is a fish out of water. He’s never had to comfort you before, probably never had to comfort anyone. No wonder he’s so bad at it.

You wouldn’t laugh at him and borderline abuse, but your emotions are beyond fried, and he just looks so funny standing over you with a pillow raised, still sputtering half apologies. You try to stop the laugh before it comes out but it turns into a snort and then you can’t stop laughing, tears that you tried to push back falling freely. You lay back on the floor and laugh until your sides hurt, only vaguely aware of Jihoon laughing above you. Eventually he joins you on the floor.

“You know what I meant,” he says. The pillow rests on the floor between his legs, all the fluff on the far end from the one-sided pillow fight.

“I knew what you meant without the pillow.”

“Too bad,” Jihoon says. “I’m tired of listening to the theme song of that god awful show. You could at least watch something like–”

“I swear if you bring up an anime, you’ll feel exactly how hard that pillow can hit.”

Jihoon laughs, patting it a couple times. “I saw him the other day. He looked tired.” He pauses but you don’t dare speak. “We didn’t speak. I don’t even think he saw me. But it doesn’t matter because I’m not the one he needs to talk to.”

“I know,” you say.

“Then why are you still on the floor?”

Because you’re scared. Because it would be easier to just give up now, for once to ignore putting in the hard work and just let it pass. But just because it’s the easy option doesn’t mean it’s the right option. At the very least you need to apologize to him.

“What if he hates me?”

Jihoon snorts. “Then he’ll get some pillow violence too.” He pauses. “He doesn’t, though.”

“It doesn’t mean that it will turn out okay.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Jihoon says. “But no matter what happens, you’ll deal with it. And even if it absolutely sucks in the moment, eventually it will be over, and it sure as hell will be better than that stupid fucking show.”

You nod, setting your chin on your knees. Your stomach turns in anticipation for what you will have to do, but he’s right. It’s time to stop running. Tonight is the Christmas party, and you were never formally uninvited. Somehow you doubt Seungcheol will throw you out. It’s time to get off the floor and get ready.

“Have you ever thought of being a life coach?”

“Hell no.”

What am I doing here? You fake a smile at Seungcheol and swallow the shot as fast as you can, grimacing as the vodka burns everything from the inside of your mouth to the depths of your stomach. You should have just stuck to your mixed drink only policy but Soonyoung always has you breaking your rules. Even when he isn’t with you.

Seungcheol disappears as soon as you take the drink, and you don't see anyone else you are comfortable enough to chat with, though that list is quite short. You do a turn of the house, which looks marginally better than the last time you saw it ,the benefit of bad lighting. It’s already crowded with more people than you’ve ever seen on campus. You make your way through each room on the lower floor, finding more than a couple bleach blondes. None are who you’re looking for. You stop in the living room, where you saw him last.

“He isn’t here.” You turn at the voice. An unfamiliar boy stands next to you, holding a half-empty Smirnoff Ice. “He went to visit family or something.” He pauses, looking you up and down. “At least that’s what he said.”

You nod. You find it doesn’t surprise you that he seems to know who you are. You suppose you’ve grown used to it, just one of the side-effects of being close with Soonyoung. Though it’s still strange, it doesn’t make you uncomfortable anymore. Or it wouldn’t, if you didn’t think this stranger is implying that it’s your fault Soonyoung isn’t at the ‘Party of the Year.’

You can’t stand his gaze so you make your way back towards the drinks, grabbing the first bottle you could find and chugging half of the lukewarm drink. It tastes like a fruit you can’t recognize and carbonation and the more you drink the harder it is to swallow but you force it down.

You came to apologize. He isn’t here, so why do you stay? Because you promised him? Do you really miss him that much? That you would come here and suffer through all this chaos, just for the memory of him? It doesn’t make any sense but you think that might be a side effect of the alcohol. You get another drink just in case you’re still sober.

Your head pounds, the aching feeling of the stage between drunk and sober. Normally you’d like to be sound asleep by now, or at least in the comfort of your home, but you can’t bring yourself to leave. It’s hot and sweaty, the music is way too loud, and you can’t find water anywhere, but you stay anyway, because you’re an idiot that fell in love.

You curl up on the couch, opposite of a couple making out as if the room isn’t full of people, waiting for just a glimpse of him that will never appear. Even drunk, you think it’s pitiful, but you can’t stop.

You didn’t think you could fall asleep in all the noise but you open your eyes when you feel the world tilt sideways. You’re vaguely aware of the arms underneath your legs and back, cradling you against someone’s chest. No, not just someone.

Because you aren’t enough of an idiot, you can tell it’s him, his sweet scent, maybe even just his arms. Soonyoung carries you out of the living room and up the stairs, the blaring music fading only slightly.

“I thought you weren’t here,” you mumble.

Soonyoung frowns down at you. “You okay?”

You shake your head, suddenly realizing there are tears in your eyes. No, I’m not okay, I love you, you want to say. He squeezes you a little tighter, trying to hug you while still carrying you.

With your head resting against his chest, you can fully appreciate his beauty. His hair is black, which suits him even though he looks nothing like your Soonyoung anymore. You reach up and trace the lines of his face that are unchanging, the sharp straight line of his jaw, the gentle curve of his nose, his soft eyebrows. You drop your hand when you realize he’s staring at you, belatedly realizing you never got to his lips. You can only imagine how soft they’d be, soft like Soonyoung himself.

“You’re crying,” Soonyoung says softly. You can’t tell if he’s talking to you or not. He pauses in front of a door, struggling to open it without dropping you. Finally the door swings open and he sets you down on a bed, taking a deep breath and sitting beside you.

He brushes the tears from your eyes, as Soonyoung as ever. Sweet as ever. Sweet and Soonyoung. They should be the same word. You make a mental note to email Merriam-Webster’s dictionary and make the suggestion.

Soonyoung doesn’t say anything, just watching you with those perfect eyes. His hand rests on your face even though the tears are long gone, thumb tracing shapes on your cheek.

“You swore you’d do anything for me,” you say.

“Anything,” Soonyoung repeats.

You turn to the walls, knocking his hand off your cheek, not daring to look him in the eyes. Even drunk, you are a coward. He’s put up pictures on his wall, a couple Polaroids but mostly printed pictures, with the frat, some childhood pictures, and one that you recognize. The picture of the two of you at the beach that you thought you didn’t send, where you are looking at him with all the love in your heart. You trace his smile, blinding even in paper form.

“Could you maybe try loving me back then?” You mumble. Your eyes feel heavy between the alcohol and the tears and you’ve said what you needed to say, so you let them take over, closing your eyes and letting the blasting music from downstairs drown out any thoughts. And because it’s so loud and you’ve already drifted off to sleep, there’s no way you could hear his answer.

“I already do.”

The first thing you do when you wake up is throw up. You make it out of the bed but not to the bathroom, mostly because you don’t actually know where it is. You grab the nearest bucket-shaped item, which happens to be a mostly empty trash can. You lean away as soon as you’re done, breathing through your mouth and looking away from the mess. Belatedly, you realize someone is patting your back, brushing hair out of your face.

“Better?” Soonyoung asks. His knees rests against your lower back, one hand resting on your back, the other caressing your face. Thank god you already threw up because looking at him makes your stomach twist again and if there was anything in you, it would come up again. If you could throw up your heart, you would. As it is, the organ is trying to climb its way up your throat, whether it’s guilt or heartbreak you don’t know.

You nod in answer to his question, letting him help you up. Your head pounds and though you know you won’t throw up again, your stomach flips. Right, your policy of mixed drinks is definitely reinstated after this.

“Sorry I threw up in your trash can,” you say.

“Believe me, that is not the worst that trash can has seen,” Soonyoung says. “Wait, that sounds bad, I didn’t mean it in a weird way, I just mean–” He stops himself, shaking his head. “It’s a frat house.”

“It’s your room,” you say softly. With sober (albeit heavily hungover) eyes, you take in the room again. It’s tiny, one bed pushed against a wall with a desk set right next to it. Unsurprisingly, it’s stacked with protein powder and a pile of frat flyers, laptop balancing off the edge, not a paper in sight. Except for the one next to his bed, the walls are bare, an ugly shade of beige except for a circle filled with white plaster that looks suspiciously like the reformed crime scene of a fist going through drywall. It must be from whoever owned the room before Soonyoung.

The wall next to his bed is covered in pictures. You remember being amazed by them last night. Your eyes zero in on the picture of the two of you, right next to the pillow that’s still dented from your head.

“Did I steal your bed?” You frown except the movement hurts your head.

“I slept in Johnny’s room since he’s decided to disappear off the face of the planet instead of accepting the fact that he graduates next semester,” Soonyoung says. “I actually just came in here for some clothes, which reminds me.” He rummages through a drawer, pulling out a wrinkled t-shirt and handing it to you. “If you want a change.”

You glance down and feel like throwing up all over again. Your favorite shirt is covered in stains, alcohol, vomit, and something you definitely don’t want to name. If you weren’t feeling so terrible already, you’d cry that Soonyoung is seeing you like this.

“I’ll get you a toothbrush, too,” he mutters, disappearing and leaving you to scramble to switch shirts. The white dri-fit is meant to be a workout shirt, though it’s clear that it would be oversize on Soonyoung. Either way, the soft fabric is gentle on your skin, much better than the jeans you slept in. Too bad you’re stuck in them until you get back to your apartment.

You could run away right now. Soonyoung probably wouldn’t be surprised. But he’s being nice to you, so much nicer than you deserve. Sweet and Soonyoung. But you came here to apologize, and though last night got derailed, you can’t keep running from it. Besides, it’s not like the morning can get much worse.

So when Soonyoung comes back proudly brandishing an unopened toothbrush that he may or may not have stolen from Seungcheol’s bathroom, you accept it gratefully. You stare yourself down in the bathroom, fighting nausea and an impending migraine because you have a mission to achieve, a real mission unlike last night. It’s still a haze, but you don’t think you’ll ever forget how gently Soonyoung cradled you against his chest, the brush of his fingers on your cheek. If he didn’t show up this morning, you’d think it was a dream.

Soonyoung’s door is open when you finish but he isn’t in his room. You grab your bag from the floor and venture down the stairs, leaning heavily on the railing. There’s a couple people passed out in the living room, and one person snoring softly in the kitchen, head folded in his arms in a position that must be incredibly painful for his neck. But it’s where you find Soonyoung, digging through the fridge and finally pulling out a water bottle. He hands it to you, along with a bottle of pills.

“Thank you,” you sigh, not even bothering to check the label for the brand. You take a couple and chug half the bottle, gaslighting yourself into believing that it will instantly revive you (it doesn’t work and your head still pounds).

“Are you hungry?” Soonyoung asks. He opens the fridge again, this time wide enough to show the shelves that are filled with beer, vodka, and White Claws. There’s a pizza box and some eggs, but not much else.

“How are any of you alive?” You ask softly, glancing at the snoring person on the counter.

“Yuta can sleep through an apocalypse, don’t worry about him,” Soonyoung says, waving his hand. He closes the fridge, leaning against it. “And most of us keep our actual food in mini-fridges. I just cleared mine out for break, so I don’t have anything in it.” He doesn’t say anything else about vanishing.

“I’m pretty sure that pizza has been in there since the start of the semester and I’ve never seen eggs in here before though, so I don’t think you should risk any of this,” Soonyoung says. “McDonald’s fries are a far superior hangover cure, they’ve never failed me.”

“There’s a McDonald’s nearby?”

Soonyoung grins, pulling keys out of his pocket and spinning them around his fingers a couple times, except they fly off and clatter on the floor. The man asleep on the counter, Yuta apparently, stirs but doesn’t move. You can’t help but smile as Soonyoung scrambles to retrieve them from the floor. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was flustered.

“There isn’t one,” Soonyoung explains, leading the way to the door. “But I have the keys to Seungcheol’s car.”

“I’m not really comfortable with grand theft auto,” you say, though you don’t stop following him to Seungcheol’s giant white Jeep.

“He gave me the keys last night when I walked in,” Soonyoung says. “Something about owing me. He was pretty drunk.” He darts around to the passenger side before you can, opening the door for you. He waves his hand when you frown at him, as if you’re the one acting strange. Thinking with this headache is too hard so you just get into the car and strap the seatbelt on.

“I can’t believe you thought I’d steal a car,” Soonyoung says. He turns the engine on and scans the front of the car before finally settling his right hand on the gear shift.

“You have driven this car before, right?”

“Of course,” Soonyoung says a little too fast. You grab onto the door handle and hope that your stomach really is empty.

Soonyoung’s driving isn’t the worst you’ve ever experienced; that title goes to Jihoon, who was banned from touching car keys after his Mario Kart driving. That said, you think he’s a good second place. He slams on the gas and the brakes too hard and drives altogether too fast. He blasts the radio and sings along purposefully off key. You should be terrified but it’s the most fun you’ve ever had riding in the passenger seat.

“I’m never riding with you again,” you say, breathless from laughing. He pulls to a stop at the red light, the Golden arches of your destination still one light away. “You know yellow lights mean slow down right?”

“I stopped at this one!” Soonyoung says. “I’ll have you know I haven’t been in an accident.” He pauses. “Since I was nineteen.”

You nod, pursing your lips to stop yourself from smiling fully. “That’s what I figured.” You peek at Soonyoung and he’s smiling too.

So different from the last time you saw him. You don’t deserve this. You shouldn’t be able to laugh and joke around with him so easily, not when you still haven’t apologized. And Soonyoung shouldn’t be looking at you like that, genuine fondness in his eyes.

“The light’s green,” you say. His smile fades a little when he turns his head and drives ahead, stepping lightly for once. You’re so close now, but a car going straight in the right lane prevents him from turning.

The pain medicine must have kicked in because your headache is slowly fading, replaced by heartache that no medication can cure.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” You blurt out.

The blinker beeps a steady rhythm in the empty silence. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Nothing’s ever obvious with you, Soonyoung,” you say softly.

“Oh.” The light turns green and he guides the car slowly into the parking lot, stopping in a spot instead of pulling up to the drive through. As soon as the car is in park, he turns to face you. There’s a crease in his forehead that you recognize from the rare occasions that he would actually talk to you seriously. “YN, I genuinely thought I was being clear about this from the beginning, but if you still really don’t get it, then I’ll say it straight up: I like you. I’ve liked you since the day we met and then I fell in love with you.

“Did you know you’re the first person that’s ever genuinely believed in me? I mean, I know I have friends, and my family means well, but they always get this look in their eye whenever I talk about trying for things, like it was cute that I was trying, but they never actually believed in me. And I started to believe them too. I started to believe that I couldn’t believe in myself.” He frowns. “That makes no sense. The point is, you are the reason I started to believe in myself again.

“No one’s ever looked at me like you do. No one’s ever told me to get my shit together–well, they have, but you’re the only one that told me it was because I could be better.

“You say it wasn’t obvious, but I’ve tried to tell you a thousand times. I flirted, I tried to ask you on a date so many times, and I finally accepted that you’d never see me like that, so I was a dick. I told you off, even though you were right. I’m so sorry for that, and I’m sorry I ran away, and I’m sorry it took me so long to apologize.”

“Stop,” you say. Soonyoung’s eyes widen, tears welling up, and you realize he thinks you’re rejecting him. “Stop apologizing!” His brow creases in confusion, an adorable frown. Summoning all your courage, you reach out, resting your hand on his. “I’m the one that’s sorry. I didn’t have any right to judge you and the choices you were making, and I shouldn’t have yelled at you when I knew how much the bet meant to you.”

You squeeze his hand, closing your eyes. “And I think I was a little oblivious on purpose. I’m not the kind of person that has crushes, let alone crushes that like me back, so I freaked a little and missed all the signs.” You open your eyes and grin at him. It’s easy to feel brave when he smiles back at you. “But I like you, Soonyoung. I like you so much, I don’t have enough words to express it. My whole life has been about my future, my career, and it’s exhausting, but being with you makes it all exciting again. Like, no matter what happens, if you’re with me, it won’t just be okay, it’ll be fun.”

Soonyoung beams. “Really?”

You squeeze his hand. “I like you.” Like the first time you took the LSAT, you can’t think of a single word, except instead of damning your future this feels like the start of it. Soonyoung sits across from you and you don’t need words.

You don’t know how long you sit there, but reality sets in when your stomach growls. You glance outside the window and remember where you are. “Did you just confess to me in a McDonald’s parking lot?”

“Better than drunk in my own bed.”

“I didn’t!” You let go of his hand to hide your face.

Soonyoung grins. “You were cute!”

“I don’t remember it, it doesn't count!”

“Whatever you say,” Soonyoung says, leaning over the center console. He gently pulls your hands away from your face, hand circling your wrist gently. You instinctively hold your breath, though you don’t lean away. Soonyoung leans a little closer, forehead resting against yours.

“This okay?” He whispers, breath kissing your lips, and you remember that less than an hour ago, you were throwing up. Your head still aches and your stomach is still queasy and your whole body feels disgusting.

“We are not having our first kiss in a McDonald’s parking lot,” you say, leaning back. Soonyoung sighs, but he sits back in his chair, settling for grabbing your hand and interlacing his fingers with yours.

“Fine,” Soonyoung says. He rubs his thumb back and forth, and when you meet his eyes, you see a familiar glint of trouble. “You know I’m still sworn to you. Whatever you want.”

The words go straight to your heart. You could live a thousand lives and never meet someone as genuine as Soonyoung. You know that he means it, heart and soul, that he’d do anything for you. And it should be terrifying that he’s willing to bear his heart for you, that you are willing to do the same. But it’s Soonyoung. It’s easy to trust him with it, because even though he breaks half the computers he touches and can’t hold onto a pencil for his life, he won’t ever drop your heart.

I love you. One day you’ll be able to say it, one day you’ll scream it like you so desperately want to. But until then, you settle for his certified brilliant smile and the gentle brush of his lips on the back of your hand, only letting go to turn the engine back on.

“Let’s get you some fries,” he says. “Then kisses?”

You shake your head and laugh, slipping your hand back into his.

Before he can put the car into gear, his phone rings. He stares at the screen for a moment, frowning like he can’t decide whether he should answer it or not. Finally he slides the green across, turning on speaker.

“Hey Seungcheol, I’m with—”

“Where the hell are you? And where is my car?” Seungcheol’s voice is somewhere between angry and concerned. “You think it’s okay to vanish and then show up only to steal my car?”

“First of all, you gave me the keys,” Soonyoung says. He glances at you. “And I’m at McDonald’s because YN desperately needed a hangover cure.”

“Hey,” you say so Seungcheol knows you’re there.

The line is quiet for so long you think Soonyoung’s phone has finally given up on him but eventually he says, “You’re with YN?”

“We talked,” he says. “And we’re good.”

You snort. “That’s how you’re going to describe it?”

“Are we not good?”

You glance at your hand still intertwined with his, the Soonyoung Sparkle glittering back at you when you look him in the eyes. Good? There’s not a word to describe how you feel right now.

“We are beyond good.”

“Are you crying?” You whisper. Soonyoung shakes his head, chin brushing against your head but when he inhales again, he sniffles. You reach up to pat his cheek and are entirely unsurprised when it’s wet. On screen Elle Woods continues her speech, for once not wearing pink.

“She’s just so cool,” Soonyoung says. You lift your head off his chest so you can look him in the eyes. The temptation to tease him is hard to resist but he pouts his lips and you see another tear slip out. You kiss his cheek, out of habit more than anything. Strange how much can change in two weeks, how something you’ve never imagined doing has become natural. But being with Soonyoung is just like that. New and old at the same time, the kind of comfort that has you planning how to make this last a lifetime.

Soonyoung wraps his arms around you tighter, so you nestle back into his chest, turning away from the end of the movie to close your eyes and breathe in his cologne.

“I can’t believe you’ve never seen this,” you whisper, lips brushing against his neck. “The whole bet was based on a movie you haven’t seen.”

“You’re missing the end,” he says. His voice rumbles in your ear, drowning out his heartbeat.

“I’ve seen it before.” Your bed really isn’t built for two people to lay down together. You are laying more on Soonyoung than the mattress but it’s not the first time. From the way he holds you, you doubt it’ll be the last.

The credits roll too quickly, but Soonyoung still doesn’t let go. He pulls you up so that your head is next to his, nose centimeters away from yours.

“So am I officially qualified to go to law school?” He asks.

“You are Elle Woods certified,” you say. “But you’re sure that’s what you want?”

“I mean I have to get in. But I figure if I’m going to waste away at a desk, I might as well do it for something I believe in.” He pauses. “With someone that believes in me.” He presses a kiss to the side of your neck, breath tickling the sensitive skin. You can’t help but sigh.

“That doesn’t mean it’s what you want,” you say, after several heartbeats of struggling to think.

“I want…” His words “To be with you. However you’ll have me.” His arms loosen, hands sliding down to your waist.

“Still not answering the question,” you breathe out but you can’t even remember what the question is, not when he’s shifting to lay on top of you, lips inching their way up your neck. He kisses your jaw, your cheek, the corner of your lips, then stops, pulling away and meeting your eyes again.

The Soonyoung Sparkle. The grinch has nothing on you–your heart swells so large it feels like it’s going to explode out of your chest–Alien style. Does he know what he does to you? How he’s made everything in your life shine? How happy you are when he’s with you?

“I love you,” you whisper.

Soonyoung blinks at you. “You…”

“I love you,” you say again, this time with more confidence. “I really, really love you.”

Soonyoung grins, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours, moving like the world outside has stopped. He makes a bubble around you again, or maybe it’s your own heart; either way the only thing that exists is the way his hands inch up your shirt, the way his lips begin to press harder against yours. You give up on coherent thoughts, settling for wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer.

“I love you, too,” Soonyoung whispers between kisses. “If that wasn’t obvious.”

Soonyoung who always treated you like you were enough already. Soonyoung who does everything with 100% of his heart. Soonyoung who has always been sincere with you, from the first day you met him. Soonyoung, who you are so lucky to be loved by.

You don’t know how to say any of this in a way that makes sense so you let his fire melt you until you are putty in his arms. He pulls away, and the Soonyoung Sparkle burns, your personal stars flickering back at you.

“You want to–” Soonyoung starts to say, but the door slams open. Then Soonyoung falls on you, pillow rolling off his head.

“I’m taking this back!” Someone shouts while you hear Jihoon cursing.

“Read the room, idiot!” Soonyoung pushes off of you, sitting up and pulling your shirt down as smoothly as he can. You sit up, trying to decide if you should be embarrassed or angry. Facing Jun, frozen midstep with his jaw hanging open a little and Jihoon in the doorway with his arms folded, shaking his head slightly, you opt for the latter.

“Does no one knock in Colombia?” You frown at him. “And when did you get back? Why didn’t you call?”

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” he mumbles, staring at his feet. “And you were supposed to be alone, according to my sources.” He glares at Jihoon.

“YN didn’t say he was coming over,” he says with a shrug.

You turn your frown to him. “You walked in halfway through the movie, I literally shouted ‘Soonyoung’s over.’”

“I had my headphones on,” he says, though he’s avoiding your eyes too. Typical of your friends, never claiming responsibility for their actions.

“So this is Soonyoung,” Jun says, turning to face him. Soonyoung moved to the edge of the bed, too far away for your taste but probably an appropriate distance for your friends, especially compared to what they walked in on. Jun tilts his head. “You dyed your hair.”

“Yeah,” Soonyoung scratches the back of his head. “Spur of the moment thing.” You miss the blonde, surprisingly fitting considering it isn’t his natural color. But the black suits him too, and probably will help him with law school interviews. Then again, knowing Soonyoung, this color won’t last long either. Good thing there isn’t a color you don’t think suits him.

“We should do this properly,” Soonyoung says. “Go out for dinner or something.”

“Hey, I didn’t get dinner,” Jihoon says.

“You want to get dinner with me?” Soonyoung perks up.

“No, I’m protesting unfair treatment.”

“It’s not unfair, I’m just clearly his favorite,” Jun says.

“Can you guys stop fighting over my boyfriend?” You say.

Jihoon and Jun stare at you. When Soonyoung turns to face you, he grins, eyes sparkling.

“What?”

“You just called him your boyfriend,” Jun says.

“Well… he is.” You feel your cheeks flush. “Why are you guys making it weird?”

“It’s not weird,” Soonyoung says. He scoots closer to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “It’s cute,” he whispers in your ear. “Adorable.” This only makes you flush even more.

“Well, I don’t want to interrupt, so I’ll just grab this and you two can get back to… whatever.” Jun takes a step towards your bookcase. You grab the pillow that he threw at Soonyoung and nail him in the chest, earning a laugh from Jihoon.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“The book is mine, Soonyoung never fulfilled the bet!” Jun says. You stand up, blocking him from your Pride and Prejudice.

“Hey, I followed through!” Soonyoung says. “We’re dating!”

“I remember the bet stating that you had to ask YN out after you took the LSAT.” Jun turns to him.

“And I did,” Soonyoung says. “You never said it had to be right after.”

Jun eyes him. “That’s cheating.”

“That’s being a lawyer,” you say. “And I think he’s going to be really good at it.”

Jun glances between you and Soonyoung and shakes his head. “Whatever, I’ll get my book back another day.”

You step closer to Soonyoung and he links his pinky with yours. You glance at your friends. “Are you going to stand there forever or are we getting dinner?”

“You two don’t want to get back to what you were doing?” Jihoon asks.

You slip your hand into Soonyoung’s. He meets your eyes and he’s only been your boyfriend for two weeks but looking at him is like looking home. There’s no need to rush.

“Sounds like someone doesn’t want to pick where we go.”

“We should make them pay, too,” Soonyoung says.

You grin at him. “You are the smartest person I know.”

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