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zreamy · 5 months

Text

i'll love you forever

pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader

summary: you were sunghoon's first everything; first friend, first love, and first heartbreak. after years of quietly crushing on you, he was finally ready to confess. so ready to confess, that he told his parents the two of you were already dating! it was an easy enough lie to keep up and he kept it up for months, what could possibly go wrong? he thought. little did he know, you would have a falling out and stop talking for months.. and then, you'd both get invited to spend a week at home with his parents, who still believe you're his girlfriend.

genre: smut, fluff, angst, college au, childhood best friends to lovers, fake dating

warnings: minors dni, fake dating is pretty mild (sorry), she kinda doesn’t rate him at the start, these two kind of exist in a vacuum a little bit idk i had a self-enforced word count to stick to and broke it.. (im within the 10% allowance !), sunghoon in a vest, sunghoon arms, sunghoon

word count: 21,858

playlist: click here.. (for my non-spotify babes, the main song is light by wave to earth (which for some reason i put last.. whatever))

author's note: for silly @asahicore. happy birthday pooks i hope it's amazing and that u enjoy reading this when u have the time !!! LOL (lots of love) also im never writing without telling you things again this was so absurd.

to everyone else.. ok happy reading also emma did not beta read this so im sure it's missing its charm .. anyway it's for emma not you 😭 anyway i hope u enjoy regardless and lmk ur thoughts! omg this is the first fic im nervous about posting.......... please enjoy or else.

In the three years since Park Sunghoon moved away for university, he’d been doing a pretty good job of going home to see his parents. They’d welcome their baby back to the nest with open arms and wide grins. With a rehearsed level of indifference, his younger sister, Yeji, would say, “Oh, I didn’t know you were coming home this weekend.” when she saw him at the dinner table. Sunghoon pretended to only be marginally hurt by this.

In the last three months, he hasn’t so much as sent a text to his parents.

Or to you.

Ignoring texts from his mother is devastating. Between classes, he watches as, “Hi, sweetie, I love you 😍,” turns into, “Missing you, honey, know you must be busy but spare some time for your old mummy, no?” which turns into, “Getting really worried now, are you doing okay? Has something happened with YN? Talk to me, I love you, my baby boy!”

Ignoring texts from you is easy because texts from you never come.

Sitting at the end of his bed, Sunghoon rereads a text his mother sent a few minutes ago: Please talk to me, son. Really worried and YN isn’t answering calls either. What’s going on with you two?

When he leaves his room, he finds Jake lying on the couch, and with his keys in hand, Sunghoon says, “I’m going home.”

And the drive is great! At least, he tells his mum it is. In truth, the drive home without you was nearly impossible. Your ever-expanding home time playlist buzzed through the speakers in his car, but without you there to screech along to the songs, it wasn’t the same. He felt your absence the most when he stopped to get petrol and you weren’t there behind him struggling to carry enough snacks to feed a small family without offering to pay.

The look of worry on his mum’s face stirs a pit in his stomach. “Why are you so quiet these days? God, you look so tired,” she says, frowning. “Is it school? Or something with YN? It’s not like her not to text back.” Her brows crease as she whispers the word unless. She pulls him into a hug, her chin resting perfectly on his shoulder, and her comforting hand strokes the hair on the back of his head. “Breakups are never easy, honey. I’m so sorry, I know how much you love her.”

Breakups are never easy. The sentence hangs heavy over his head.

Whether she knows it or not, she’s handed him a get-out-of-jail-free card, the opportunity to set things straight, to end this mess once and for all. No further questions, and most importantly, no more lies.

For the first time since he left your flat three months ago, Sunghoon lets himself cry. He’d imagined this moment countless times, his first cry since you ended things. In his mind, it was always intense. Today, as it happens, only a few salty tears leak from his eyes, spilling onto the cuff of his sleeve, darkening the blue cotton in tiny indigo splotches.

“We didn’t break up,” he says in a small voice—for some reason. “I’m just having a hard time.” Neither statement is technically untrue, but the words taste rotten in his mouth.

The tightening grip of his mum’s arms around his body is what brings on the harsh, shoulder-racking sobs he’d been anticipating. For a while, they stand like this, Sunghoon weeping into his mum’s cardigan until she sends him upstairs to lie down, promising a cup of tea that never comes.

His childhood bedroom is chilly, so he changes into clothes he left behind and climbs into bed, pulling his duvet up to his chin. He turns his head to look at the walls and the room around him, everything is exactly where he left it in the summer. It should be comforting, but it’s weird to be home without you.

There are photos of you and him everywhere, growing up and around each other through different stages of life. The two of you together during the summer your family moved in next door, you wore glasses back then and were the first friend he’d made in his life. Sunbathing and sharing earphones at the beach, listening to music together on your iPod classic. Sunghoon in thick glasses with a stiff smile and your arm around him on the first day of high school. Wide grins at the start of this summer, the last time things were okay between you.

Overwhelmed, he stares up at the ceiling, only realising he’s crying when a hot tear slips from his eyes to tickle his ear. Because Sunghoon likes to upset himself, he screws his eyes shut and thinks about the night before you stopped talking.

Though he didn��t know it at the time, you’d left Yeonjun’s place to sit with him in a tiny restaurant on campus, the one you’d only visit to toast to each other’s heartbreaks. It had become a ritual — ever since your first year boyfriend dumped you after two weeks — to cry as much as you wanted and drink as much soju as your bodies could handle before stumbling back to your apartments.

Having spent years suffering from an unrequited crush on his best friend, Sunghoon was always the one to comfort you. But that night was different; you were there to comfort him. It was easy enough to play the part of ‘boy whose crush likes someone else’ because he spent your entire friendship in that role. He’d had no problem accepting his fate, but his composure started to slip when you met Yeonjun. It was the first time you’d dated someone who Sunghoon had reason to be jealous of. In every way, Yeonjun was better than him—taller, funnier, hotter. Sunghoon knew he didn’t stand a chance. He took it personally, you liking Yeonjun instead of him, and let his jealousy consume him from the inside out.

This jealousy led him to start telling you about Minjeong—lying to you about Minjeong, and his feelings for her. She was a girl from a college out of town that he saw on his Instagram Explore page. He followed her by accident, and by some stroke of luck, she followed back. Sunghoon didn’t really have feelings for her — he didn’t even know her — but she was a girl that you didn’t know, so you wouldn’t be able to meddle.

It only took a few weeks for Sunghoon to become so upset about your relationship that he couldn’t hide his emotions anymore. So, in a fit of tears, he told you over the phone that things ended badly with Minjeong, and he was in urgent need of a soju ceremony.

But the night was missing its usual comforts.

It was strange to be the one crying, to see you looking put together and ordering the food. To see you pouring the drinks and raising your glass to propose a toast to ‘Hoonie’s first heartbreak’. You were driving that night, so you only had a tiny sip of soju and let him drink as much as he needed, the way he always did for you, at the same table, in the same restaurant for years.

Hours later, in your car, you entertained his drunken rambles, though he remembers how your lips were set into a frown that he wanted to kiss away while you gripped the steering wheel like you thought it would run from you. Sunghoon was more drunk than he’d been in a while, drunk enough to let you sling his arm over your shoulders and keep him upright until you reached his flat.

The voices coming from Yeji’s room disrupt the memory. He’s thankful.

“Your brother’s going through something, so be nice to him this weekend.” His mother’s voice is her version of hushed—a loud whisper.

Yeji’s response is harder to make out, but he doesn’t miss the way their mum says, “I mean it, missy.”

A dramatic sigh rumbles through Yeji as she barges into his room without knocking. Sunghoon sits up, feeling an ache in his back and crossing his legs.

“Mum told me to lay off you today, which is fine, but before I do, I need to tell you something.”

Yeji pushes the door shut behind her, and the open window makes it slam, both of them flinching from the sudden noise. She pulls her hair out of a silk scrunchie and throws herself on the floor. A pang of irritation forms in his chest, knowing that he could immediately find the empty hanger in his wardrobe where the shirt she’s wearing used to live.

“I hate you and your perfect golden boy image, Hoon. Would it kill you to fail a class for once? I don’t know how I’m supposed to carry on your legacy.” She’s looking up at him, her chin in her hands and irritation written in the crease between her thick brows.

It’s impossible to know if it’s because of Yeji’s complete lack of boundaries or the fact that her ‘perfect, golden boy’ big brother is on track to fail three out of three classes and get cut from the hockey team, but Sunghoon immediately bursts into tears.

“Oh, uh.. I’m sorry?” Yeji offers. “I was kidding if that helps.”

“I’m alright, it’s okay.” The tears don’t stop stinging his eyes. “Why do you want me to change everything about myself?”

With a frown, Yeji pours out her frustration and mild resentment. She doesn’t understand how Sunghoon effortlessly conquers every aspect of life while she struggles. Neither do their parents, who had been baffled by her plummeting grades since she moved to boarding school, especially when Sunghoon’s academic performance has only soared since he left for university. The weight of this perceived injustice pulls Sunghoon’s shoulders down with guilt as she talks about the expectations he has inadvertently set for her.

“But other than that, I’m good.” She shrugs, sitting with her legs out, and leaning back on her palms. “How’s YN?” she asks. It’s clear from the brightness in her voice that she thinks she’s helping.

Sunghoon cries again.

Back on campus, he’s trying to scrape together what’s left of his academic career with the help of two of the smartest guys he knows, and their friend Jay. Though the word ‘friend’ feels a little strong at the moment given the way Jay’s goading him.

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, sitting back in his seat. “There’s nothing you can do that I can’t,” he says, meaning every word.

Jay scoffs, shrugging and raising his brow in a way that, over the years, Sunghoon knows to interpret as his ‘about to say something ridiculous’ look. “Pretty sure I could call YN right now, and she’d answer.”

There’s a pit in Sunghoon’s stomach as Heeseung turns his head in the other direction like he’s been slapped, trembling with stifled laughter. At least Jake doesn’t hide his amusement, throwing his head back in a fit of giggles that draw nasty looks from the other students in the library. Sunghoon doesn’t waste his energy trying to argue because Jay’s right.

Now composed, Heeseung turns back to the table, flipping through some of Sunghoon’s course materials to find whatever his class was doing in class that week. The English Literature class he’s taking — The Modernist Movement: Joyce, Woolf, and Hemingway — is the same class he had to send a million emails over the summer to get enrolled in, but it’s the same one Heeseung aced two years ago. Lucky for him none of the boys seem to be in the mood to make fun of him for trying so hard to have a class in common with you, and then practically failing out of it before the term had started properly.

“This class is, like, beyond easy, dude.” Heeseung pauses to sniffle and twist the stud in his ear. “Everyone in my class aced it. How are you doing so badly already?”

“I only took it because YN thought it’d be fun if we had a class together, but.. I kind of haven’t been going since we stopped talking.” Sunghoon shrugs, pretending to be unaffected.

As if the mere mention of your name has some sort of summoning power, like saying Biggie Smalls in the mirror three times, you appear in his eye line, rounding the corner with a furious stride. Your demeanour crumbles when Jay waves at you, and you grin, waving back, but as soon as you look Sunghoon in the eye again, the rage comes back, and you smack a hand on the table when you reach it, leaning over to him.

“Sunghoon, a word?” you ask.

He thinks you’re asking, but it’s hard to tell with the way you set your jaw afterwards, and the way the warmth of your signature vanilla scent hits him hard. Dazed, Sunghoon lifts a hand, pointing at himself. “Me?”

“Does anyone else at the table answer to Sunghoon?”

“Okay,” he says, somewhat pathetically, nudging Jay for laughing at him.

As slowly as possible, Sunghoon pushes his chair from the table and stands up, following you to the corner of the references section where only anthropology students in scratchy thrift store knits, and Jay, come to check out encyclopaedias by volume. You look good, save for the rage written all over your face—which, honestly, Sunghoon thinks he likes.

Sunghoon isn’t sure what to expect, so he says, “Hey.” He’s being cautious, waiting a moment to gauge your reaction. “What’s gooooood?” His cheeks burn as soon as he closes his mouth around the vowel, but you laugh. You laugh, and it’s beautiful and happy, and you’re laughing because of him—or at him, but he’s glad either way.

Annoyance quickly clears all traces of amusement on your face. “Were you ever going to tell me we’re spending next week at Mum and Dad’s?” you ask.

Sunghoon gasps dramatically, clicking his fingers. “I knew there was something I’ve been meaning to do.”

His attempt at lightening the mood falls flat, and you only nudge his shoulder gently, sighing. “Can you be serious? For once in your life, even for a second, can you please think about how the things you say affect me?” You’re frowning, crossing your arms over your chest and looking at your feet. “It’s not fair, Sunghoon. For you to keep saying things—making plans involving me and then acting like I’m the bad guy when I turn you down.”

“I don’t think you’re the bad guy at all,” Sunghoon admits. “If anyone is in the wrong, it’s me, I guess.”

You scoff, looking at him like you hate him. “You guess? Are you serious?” You look furious, but you sound hurt and Sunghoon hates it. Hates himself. “I can’t have this conversation with you right now. Tell mum I’m sick, and it’s contagious.” You roll your eyes and walk away, leaving Sunghoon alone with his thoughts and judgemental stares from students in crochet scarves so long they graze the floor.

He sighs, slumping against the wall. How does he keep getting it wrong with you?

Back at the table, Sunghoon manages to act like he’s not falling apart and makes some serious headway on his missing assignments with Heeseung’s help before they call it a day as the sun starts to set.

When he gets home, he lies down on his bedroom floor, spending hours poring over the conversation you had. Over the minute changes in your facial expression, the tone of your voice, and the endless list of things he should have done, rather than watch you walk away.

The moment feels familiar, both identical to and worlds apart from what happened after you left three months ago. When he managed to scrape the last shreds of his dignity from the kitchen table, he dragged his feet to his room and lay down like he is now, face to the rug. That day, he left his door open and lay so still that Jake thought he was dead. Sunghoon remembers wishing he had been.

For once in your life, even for a second, can you please think about how the things you say affect me? The words run on a loop in his mind, over and over, until he can’t remember the order of the sentence or where you put emphasis. They’re cutting all the same.

Sunghoon sighs into the itchy fibres of his black rug before rolling onto his back. In the diminishing purple light of the setting sun. he looks at the walls of his room. At the Fleetwood Mac poster, he stole from Jay when they moved out of their first year dorm, that curls away from the wall towards the ceiling—a diagonal strip of shiny tape being the only indication of the otherwise invisible tear through the face of Stevie Nicks.

He’s glad when his phone rings, cutting through the quiet, though the sight of your name and the anatomical heart emoji next to it only dampens his spirit. Reluctantly, Sunghoon answers the phone, holding it to his ear.

“I just got off the phone with Dad..” You trail off. Tangible silence follows, so thick it weighs on his chest. “I’ll go home with you.”

“You will?”

“Yes. Goodbye.”

Sunghoon reaches your flat at five in the evening. You don’t smile when you open the door for him, nor do you invite him in. Instead, you dump your bag at your feet and he cringes, looking from the floor to you. You’re aggressively beautiful and cosy-looking as you pull a jacket over the sweater you wore that night. Sunghoon’s heart aches in his chest and he wonders if you even realise. Suddenly, the memory of the last thing you said the morning after hits him like a truck: Then let’s not be friends at all.

A familiar weight lands on his shoulder—your hand. Concern lines your eyes as you ask if he’s okay.

With a lump in his throat, Sunghoon nods.

In the discomfort of his car, the two of you sit in silence while he starts the drive home.

“How’s Yeonjun,” he asks, eyes flicking towards you but regretting it immediately when he sees how you clench your jaw.

“No,” you say simply, shaking your head. “You don’t get to ask me about him.”

These are the only words you exchange until Sunghoon stops for petrol. He has enough fuel for the rest of the journey, but he feels like dying and thinks the fresh air might quell his thoughts of running his car off the road. Like always, the two of you get out and head into the kiosk, where he follows you wordlessly through the aisles, watching you debate on snack choices before settling on the same things you always get. Sunghoon pays for your snacks and you roll your eyes but don’t protest, mumbling thanks as you take them into your arms, leading the way back outside.

He knows he needs to tell you before you reach the house, but he’s not entirely sure how to say it—so he just does. “My, uh.. my parents think we’re dating.”

You stop so suddenly in front of him that he almost bumps into you. Stepping around you, Sunghoon keeps walking.

Over the top of his car, he watches your face cycle through all five stages of grief until anger comes back around in the loop as you scoff. “Why do they think that?” Your face is devoid of expression now, the blankness over your features dragging a sharp chill over his spine.

He stares blankly at you, processing. “Because I told them we’re dating,” he mumbles.

“Why did you.. do that?” You tilt your head, eyes pressing shut in a long blink. “What are you even talking about? Why did you.. What?”

A thin layer of sweat coats his palms despite the cold. Why did he do that? “We can stage a breakup during the trip or say we broke up right now,” Sunghoon offers. “Just one night, YN, please.”

The wind whistles by, ruffling your hair and jacket that you hug tightly to your chest. Behind you, Sunghoon takes note of the group of girls standing by the pumps, all five of them jerking their heads abruptly when they notice him watching, suddenly finding interest in the scattered litter and flickering halogen bulbs in the steel canopy over their heads.

You’re staring when he looks back at you, nostrils twitching with a sniffle before you sigh. “Or we could say that you’re a liar and end things there,” you say. “Or better yet, you go down there on your own and tell them the truth.”

Sunghoon’s gaze drops, his thoughts racing in his mind. He knows you’re right. At some point, his parents will have to find out, and it’d be better for them to find out now. Sunghoon sighs, nodding. “Alright,” he concedes. “I’ll take you back.”

An angry laugh comes out of you as you shake your head. “No need, I’ll walk.”

The station you’re at is neatly nestled in the middle of nowhere, on a road so narrow he’s not even sure it has a pavement. You’re halfway through the three-hour drive, so there’s no telling how long the walk would be, never mind the fact that the sun is already setting and it’s deep enough into October for the wind to sting.

“From here?” he asks, incredulous.

“Yes, open the boot so I can get my bag.”

Sunghoon can only bring himself to say your name, a desperate whisper.

“Open the boot.”

He repeats your name as if it’ll make a difference, he’s pleading with you, begging—though he doesn’t know for what.

You go to the back of his car where Sunghoon joins you, a pit in his stomach when you step away. With misty eyes, you look up at him and his heart breaks. “Please.”

Sunghoon knows you well enough to know that you’re not actually going to attempt the walk home but also knows that you won’t back down if he keeps challenging you. He nods, opening the boot for you and getting into the driver’s seat—your move.

You stand there, unmoving, and long enough passes that he thinks you’ll actually leave. The boot closes softly and you join him in the passenger seat. You sigh, buckling your seatbelt. “Let’s just get this over with.”

For the rest of the journey, you sit in silence as Sunghoon briefs you on the relationship, fighting a smile as he thinks about being your boyfriend—even if only for a night. You scoff when he ‘reminds’ you that you’ve been together for four months now and the only reason you haven’t been able to come home recently is that your schedules don’t match up very well anymore—which couldn’t be further from the truth as, before term started, you went out to celebrate the fact that your class schedules couldn’t be more suited for seeing each other.

Finally, at Sunghoon’s childhood home, the two of you smile and laugh for his parents before going to bed. Your relationship has only made his mother more averse to the idea of you sharing a room under her roof than she had been when you were younger. He’s relieved about this, and in the solitude of his bedroom, he lies on the duvet of his twin bed, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about the last few hours.

With his parents, you’d sat up in the living room watching TV. They sat on the couch together, his mum nestled in his dad’s side, while you two sat on the couch opposite, mirroring their position. If your complete stiffness was anything to go by, you were less than comfortable with his arm around you and Sunghoon felt terrible for begging you to go along with this. It was after midnight when you all went upstairs and you let him kiss your forehead before all but slamming the door to the guest room in his face. His heart twirled and his mum beamed at him before saying goodnight again.

Now, at 3 a.m. he can’t sleep. Flinching at the knock on his door, he furrows his brows and goes to open it. It’s you. Standing there with your hair scraped away from your face in one of his t-shirts. Your eyes are red, brimmed with tears as you step into his room and sit on his bed.

He closes the door softly, heart aching at the sight of you so upset, and when he sits next to you, his heart tears apart because you move over, putting a distance between you. It falls out of his chest onto the floor when he realises you’re not wearing your necklace.

Sunghoon suspected you might have stopped wearing it, it only made sense that if you didn’t want him, you wouldn’t want the necklace he bought for you either, but at least earlier, your sweatshirt sat so high he couldn’t see if you had it on or not.

It was a gift for your sixteenth birthday, after your first heartbreak. He was so upset and angry that you let some loser hurt you that way, upset and angry that someone could be loved by you and fuck it up. Sunghoon was inspired by Jay, who’d gotten a pretty necklace for his girlfriend, and talked about her cute reaction for weeks, how happy she was to have a piece of him with her all the time. It was a locket, with a picture of Jay in one side and a picture of her in the other so the pictures would kiss when she wore it.

While at the jewellers with Jake, Sunghoon thought something like that might be a bit much for the two of you and eventually picked out an equally pretty piece with his first initial on it. He wrote a corny note to put in the box, something about how ‘boys come and go but Sunghoon is forever’ and gave it to you with trembling hands a few nights later—it was the first time he ever made you cry. Immediately, he thought he’d done something wrong and was ready to snatch the box and run back to the jewellers (even though he trashed the receipt). You hugged him and told him you loved him. Sunghoon’s been riding that high ever since.

Until tonight at least.

“Are you okay?” he whispers.

“I’ll do it, Hoon.” Your eyes lift from the floor to meet his gaze. “For as long as you need me to, I’ll pretend.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, Sunghoon feels lighter, an unbearable weight slipping from his shoulders. You haven’t called him ‘Hoon’ in ages, and he can’t tell if you’ve said it out of vulnerability, or even noticed that you’ve said it at all, but it warms his heart nonetheless. However, he’s not fully at ease, still curious about your sudden change of heart and why you’re crying.

“What happened?”

You pull him into a hug, and his eyes bulge out of his head. “It doesn’t matter,” you say, the words muffled by the skin at the base of his neck.

For as long as he’s known you, you’ve smelled like vanilla, a sweet warmth that grounds him. Yet it’s only after these months apart that he’s able to put a name to the sensation: home. The realisation of how much he’s missed this feeling, missed you, floods him with a rush of emotion so overwhelming he can’t find the words to press the issue. A moment passes before he remembers to hug you back, his arms finally wrapping around you, pulling you close, and you sink into his hold. Months ago, he would have kissed the top of your head and mumbled reassurance into your hair, but tonight, Sunghoon settles for stroking the back of your head and hopes it’s enough.

“You can talk to me, you know? You can always talk to me.”

A heavy silence follows, sharp as a dagger—scraping his skin, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on edge and lodging itself between his shoulder blades. Sunghoon’s breath hitches in his throat when you cling onto him even tighter, shifting so close you’ve had to settle in his lap. His heart races in his chest, pounding a rhythm so loud it fills the room.

Finally, you speak, assuring him that you know and that you’re okay. At this, Sunghoon holds you as tight as he can, and neither of you speaks for the rest of the night. You fall asleep like this, in his arms, so deeply that you don’t even stir when he lies down.

Rubbing your back, he watches the clock on his nightstand, the piercing green LED digits cycling through two whole hours right before his stinging eyes until you wake up. Sunghoon presses his eyes shut, pretending to be asleep when you kiss his cheek and leave his room.

For the entire morning, you stay in your room, and although Sunghoon is concerned, he decides not to bother you. In the afternoon, he sits at the dining table with his mum, listening as she talks about work. When she asks him, he gets up to make a cup of tea for her. It’s at that moment when you finally come downstairs, looking so effortlessly pretty. Your hair is still damp from the shower, and you’re bundled up in one of his old sweatshirts. There’s a bright grin on your face that leaves his heart thudding.

“Baby!” you squeal when you see him, charging towards him and wrapping your arms around him from behind. “Good morning.” Your words are muffled against the back of his t-shirt, and the four-letter word, and the sugar coating it, make his cheeks burn.

“It’s great to see you too, YN,” his mum says with a smile. “My night was amazing; I slept very well and had no dreams.”

You let go of Sunghoon and walk over to the table, kissing his mum on the cheek and wishing her a good morning as well. “Sorry, mum, how are you?”

His mother doesn’t seem to have the heart to correct you either, allowing your 3 p.m. ‘good morning’ to go unnoticed.

Sunghoon carefully fills both mugs to the brim and, with extra caution, carries them to the table. He places a steaming cup of peppermint tea in front of his mum and a milky coffee in front of you. A warm smile spreads across your face as you mouth a ‘thank you’, and his knees turn to jelly.

The next day, after eating an early dinner with his parents at the table, the four of you go out on a walk along the bike path you used to take for school. His parents have gone ahead, not intentionally, but because Sunghoon can’t stop you from dragging your feet.

As with most things in the town where you grew up, nothing about the trail has changed. The leaves are yellowing in standard form for the season, and crunching under his feet with each step he takes. The only foreign experience is the silence that you’re determined to uphold. Everything Sunghoon says to you is met with either a hum, a nod, or no acknowledgement at all. At this point, he feels like he could drop dead at your side and the most you’d do is step over his body like a fallen branch.

After letting you go ahead, the weathered slats of the wooden footbridge sag in the middle under his tread. It’s been like this for as long as he can remember and he wonders how nothing has been done about it. The stream rushes under it, loud and unruly, the smell of wet grass both comforting and suffocating as you look over the railing. It’s like something from a postcard, the low-hanging branches sweeping back and forth under the breeze, the grass lush and green around the path, murky water thrashing against the mud and rocks underneath with you in the middle of the frame, peering over the edge.

You keep walking when Sunghoon approaches, leaving him alone on the creaky bridge with nothing but the ache in his chest. He looks up, staring at the grey clouds in the sky through the gaps in the leaves, and sighs.

Eventually, he catches up with you, grabbing your hand and locking his fingers with yours when his parents slow down. You stiffen, looking up at him with cut eyes and a creased brow. “What are you doing?”

Sunghoon matches your clipped tone. “Holding my girlfriend’s hand.”

“No one’s looking, boyfriend.”

“You think my parents aren’t going to wonder why we’re lagging behind?”

A scoff—your fingers remain defiantly stiff. “Do you think your parents are going to care whether or not we’re holding hands?”

“My mum might after the show you put on yesterday afternoon, baby.” Bitterness covers the word like a blanket, a stark departure from how you said it.

A long sigh rumbles its way out of you before you fix your lips into a strained grin. “Sorry, sweetheart, this is my first time pretending to be in love.”

As your words hang in the air, Sunghoon’s emotions brew like a storm within him. Frustration gnaws at his patience. All hopes for a smooth week are dashed, though determination simmers in his chest with a strong resolve to make this work, to fix your relationship. It doesn’t stop the sharp pang of hurt piercing his stomach—he knows you don’t feel the same way, he knows you’re faking, but the word ‘pretending’ hits him like a truck anyway.

“We held hands all the time when we were friends,” he points out.

Your smile drops immediately, hurt flashing behind your eyes. “Yeah, and now we’re not.”

If there was a competition for who could hurt Sunghoon’s feelings the most, you’d be a shoo-in for first place. With distinction.

“Exactly!” he says, feeling the sting of his own words. “Because now we’re dating.”

At the sight of his mum turning around, you switch up in an instant. Lock your fingers with his, wrapping an arm around his bicep, leaning into him, giggling. It’s forced but his parents are far enough away that all that matters is the curve of your lips.

“You two okay back there?” she asks.

“Perfect! I feel like a kid again!” you call back, beaming up at Sunghoon in a way that makes his stomach flutter even though it doesn’t meet your eyes.

The two of you don’t talk at all when you get home, with you hugging his parents goodnight and running up the stairs.

“She’s not feeling too well,” he explains, nodding when his dad tells him to make you some tea.

His parents spend the whole day at work, and you spend the whole day following him around like a shadow until the evening when they return. He doesn’t pretend not to like it.

Sunghoon helps you make dinner, turning leftover rice into fried rice with the help of some eggs and vegetables. It’s nice moving around the kitchen with you, watching you scramble eggs in his t-shirt and bump his hip with a playful frown when he eats some of the peppers you’re chopping.

His parents watch from the table, cooing over the two of you and he does his best to fight the blush forming on his cheeks and neck. Embarrassed, he hugs you from behind, hiding his face in your neck—the scent of your coconut conditioner mixing with your vanilla perfume doesn’t do anything to stop the flush.

Over a bottle of wine, the four of you eat together at the table, swapping stories about your days. Sunghoon tries to hide his surprise as you lie about the time you spent at the play park by your primary school, competing for height on the swings and spinning on the roundabout until you couldn’t stand up. You grin at him, and it meets your eyes as you hold his hand under the table, and kiss his cheek.

After eating, his parents head upstairs, leaving to clean up together. You hum a song he’s never heard as you load the dishwasher, carefully placing the plates and cutlery in the rack, shaking your head when he hands you the glasses you’d used.

“Leave ours,” you say. “If you want.”

Sunghoon nods, putting them back on the table, where you sit in the seat across from the one he was sitting in. He sits too, staying quiet rather than saying the wrong thing. You don’t speak either. It’s reminiscent of the past—the hours you’d spend in the same room, only speaking to share a funny post you’d come across or to ask if you were hungry.

His eyes track your movements—reaching for the half-empty bottle on the table to pour yourself another glass, filling it to the brim. Before putting it down, you offer him some, filling his glass too when he nods. The three glasses of wine he’s already had must be the reason he wants to reach across the table and hold your hand, run his thumb over the soft skin on the back of it.

Sunghoon doesn’t know why you’ve been so nice to him all day or why it makes his chest hurt.

“You know you don’t have to be nice to me when we’re alone, right?” The words come out before he can stop them.

Over the top of your glass, your brows knit together. A sound of confusion, a low hum, comes from your throat as you try to finish your sip. “What?” you ask finally.

“I only asked you to do this because of my parents, you know? You don’t have to sit or talk with me when they’re not around.”

Sunghoon’s known you long enough to recognise the look that flashes across your face. The way your eyes narrow and your brows tug together, the little pout that sets on your lips before you speak; you’re hurt.

“Why can’t I just be nice to you because it’s the right thing to do?”

Because it hurts, is what he wants to say. He wants to cry, to beg you to forget everything he said that day. “Because I don’t want to make you any more uncomfortable than I already have.” Is what he settles for.

Your face softens. “I don’t feel uncomfortable around you, Hoon. We were best friends for ages, I don’t think you could ever make me uncomfortable.” You pause to take a gulp of wine. “Why can’t I just want to be nice to you?”

Sunghoon has to chew on his cheek to distract himself from how much your word choice stings. The implications of were and all of your past tense. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“What for?”

“Everything.”

There’s a sadness in the way you run your fingers on the base of your glass. The way you chew on your lip, how your hair falls when you tilt your head and how it moves when you shake it. “It’s not your fault,” you say. “I don’t know anyone who would choose to have unrequited feelings for their best friend.”

Wow, he thinks. You’re on a roll. Sunghoon wonders if you’re meticulously choosing your phrasing to upset him. Wonders why you feel the need to remind him that his feelings aren’t reciprocated as if he didn’t live through and spend hours reliving the day he confessed.

“But I didn’t have to tell you about it. It was unfair of me to spring that on you when I knew about Yeonjun.”

“Did you.. did you think I was going to leave him for you?”

“Maybe?” Sunghoon chews on his lip—he has no idea what he thought would happen. “I think I thought I loved you enough for both of us, that you might play the part for fun or out of curiosity, and.. I don’t know, just learn to love me.”

“Hoon,” you whisper, frowning. “How could you even think about settling for something like that?”

Sunghoon shrugs. “It’s not settling if it’s you.”

Silence takes a seat at the table after he speaks, interrupted only by the ticking clock on the wall—a glittery mess of scrapbooking paper and washi tape layered over each other that Yeji had decorated at summer camp years ago. You’re picking at your fingernails, letting flecks of black polish fall to the table, stark against the varnished oak.

“I know it’s not my place to ask,” Sunghoon starts after a while, hesitant and only continuing when you nod. “But what did Yeonjun say when you told him? About.. everything?”

You take a long sip from your glass and sit quietly for so long that he thinks you’re not going to answer him—he doesn’t blame you.

“I didn’t.”

He waits for you to elaborate. You don’t.

Sunghoon nods slowly, deciding not to ask any follow-up questions. Instead, he takes another drink, scrunching his nose at the bitter taste. “He didn’t ask why we stopped hanging out?” he blurts out.

“I told him we fell out but I didn’t say why.” You shrug, but your posture is stiff.

“Where did you tell him you were going to be this week?” He knows it’s not his business at all, that he’s pushing your boundaries, but he can’t help his curiosity.

“Nowhere.”

“You told him you were staying on campus?”

“I didn’t tell him anything.” Your gaze shifts, avoiding his as you toy with the stem of your glass. You drum your nails against it, letting the dull clink ring out.

“So you just left?”

“Does it make a difference to you?”

Sunghoon nods.

For a while, you tug at the drawstrings on your hoodie, pursing your lips to the side, considering this. “Yeonjun and I aren’t together anymore.” Your admission is so shocking that Sunghoon’s jaw drops. He tries to cover his surprise by coughing, his tongue sticking out like a small child. “I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want you to think it was because of you.”

Sunghoon’s thoughts move at lightspeed, too fast for him to catch onto any of them and process this information. His emotions compete with each other—disbelief, guilt, and a painful glimmer of hope he hadn’t dared to acknowledge until now all at the forefront.

“Was it?” he asks. “Because of me?”

You scoff—an incredulous sound that doesn’t match the sad look on your face. “I don’t know, Sunghoon. Do you think my boyfriend used me to make his ex jealous because of you?”

He’s not sure what he expected you to say, but this is.. Complete disbelief eclipses him as his heart sinks in his chest, shock, and guilt bubbling in his stomach.

“I’m sorry,” he says after too long. “That I wasn’t there. That I haven’t been there.”

“You didn’t know,” you say, gaze softening as you look up at him.

“But I made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me about it.”

You shake your head. “I made me feel like I couldn’t talk to you about it. All you did was change the friendship, I’m the one who ended it.”

“I still should’ve been there.”

“You’re here now, right?”

Sunghoon nods, earnestly. “Always.”

Only one thing comes to mind when you repeat the word ‘always’ before taking a sip from your glass, downing its contents. Sunghoon gets up and crosses the room with wobbly steps to open the fridge, where he pulls out as many bottles of soju as he can hold in his hands and puts them down on the table. He goes back to collect some glasses from the cabinet, puts some of the leftover fried rice from dinner into the microwave, and brings it all over when it’s done, with bowls and utensils. You watch him with a fond smile as he opens a bottle and he hopes you think the flush on his cheeks is from all the drinking you’ve been doing.

“Is it bad that I’ve missed doing this?” You’re grinning now.

Sunghoon shakes his head, raising his glass. “To YN’s fifteenth heartbreak.”

You grin, clinking the rim of your glass against his. “To YN’s fifteenth heartbreak,” you repeat.

Both of you down the glasses, and Sunghoon refills them, pouring the soju with an oddly steady hand. As you eat spoonfuls of rice and sip your drinks, silence settles over the room. The soft glow of the kitchen lights forms a warm ambience, a cosy familiarity that brings up simple memories—doing homework together at the table while gossiping about your classmates, the first New Year after you were both eighteen and had your first drink with his parents.

For at least an hour, the only sounds are the occasional clinks of forks against bowls, glasses hitting the table, the faint hum of the refrigerator and the steady tick of Yeji’s clock. Sunghoon’s eyes meet yours, and he can’t help but notice the slight change in your expression when they do.

You clear your throat, running a hand through your hair. “This is my sixteenth, actually.”

“What?”

You take a small sip of soju, staring down at the table. “My fifteenth heartbreak was losing you. Yeonjun is my sixteenth.”

In the two days since your soju ceremony, Sunghoon finds himself sinking into the role of your boyfriend like a hot bath. But there’s no use pretending it doesn’t hurt. Pretending it doesn’t hurt when you kiss his cheek before bed, or when you reach out to push the hair out of his face or snuggle into his side on the couch; because it does hurt—a lot. It hurts to think that in three days when you put your bags in the boot of his car, you’ll sit in silence all the way home. When he drops you off at your flat, you’ll close the door in his face and stop talking to him again. These realisations are harder to confront when he’s alone in his room, like now.

About an hour ago, you asked if you could borrow his car, saying there was something you needed to do on your own. It seemed important, so he handed over his keys with no question. Sighing, Sunghoon gets up from his bed and heads to the shower, where he jerks off to clear his mind. On his way back to his room, he notices the light leaking from the open kitchen door that illuminates the landing.

He hears the lock on the front door clicking, and stands at the top of the stairs, dripping water onto the carpet while listening attentively. His ears perk up when he hears a gasp—his mother.

“What’s this for?” she asks.

“I just..” You trail off. “I know it’s not much, but I wanted to thank you both for always looking after me.” You pause, and Sunghoon holds his breath, waiting. Your voice trembles as you continue. “It’s been hard since my parents went back home, and I guess it was still hard when they were here, but you both supported me. I don’t think I could’ve managed without you guys. I want to make you guys proud, you know? And I’m trying, really, so this is me saying thank you. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

He grips the railing by the landing, digging his nails into the wood until they start hurting—an ache in his fingertips that makes him wince.

An odd feeling settles in his stomach, a bittersweetness tinged in his fondness for you, and the gentle shock of realising how much his parents have done for you. Growing up, you became an honorary member of Sunghoon’s family. His parents showered you with gifts during holidays and birthdays, which you often celebrated with them rather than your own family.

The memory of your parents’ sudden decision to move across the country still lingers, and Sunghoon vividly recalls the tearful conversation he overheard at the top of the stairs. Your parents understood the enormity of their request but had earnestly asked if Sunghoon’s parents could continue looking after you.

His chest tightens when you start crying.

“You don’t have to thank us for anything, sweetie. Just you being here and taking care of our boy is more than enough thanks. You never forget our birthdays, and you always come and visit when you can. You’re doing a great job, and you should give yourself some credit,” his dad says, a little choked up. “We’ve always been proud of you.”

Sunghoon’s eyes sting with tears and his skin gets dry in the spots where the water from the shower is evaporating. He presses his fingers to his closed eyes, forcing a few tears to fall and walks the rest of the way to his room with his eyes shut. He can’t hear anything through his closed bedroom door, which he decides is a good thing as he coats himself in moisturiser and swipes deodorant under his arms with intention to spend the whole night alone. Once he’s dressed, he gets into bed and pretends not to be bothered by the way his wet hair dampens his pillow. Under the duvet, he tosses and turns before sighing and heading to Yeji’s room.

In her absence, the room’s subtle transformation is stark. The sage green-painted walls, once a backdrop to the A3 faces of Wave to Earth and Beabadoobee, now bear the faint imprints of those missing posters. Tiny, shadowy rectangles are the only remnants of the 6x4-sized pictures of her and her friends, of her and Sunghoon, that she took away with her to school.

Her hairdryer is still on her desk where she’d left it for him to use and he sits in her stiff wooden chair, plugging it in. The airflow starts immediately, hot and loud, humming throughout the space as he runs his fingers through his wet hair, feeling cosy under the heat. His shampoo is fresh and soapy scented under his nose, and his reflection watches him in Yeji’s mirror, eyes red and concerned while his hair blows around his head. Sunghoon closes his eyes and finishes his hair, sighing as he lets his worries slip under the whir of the fan.

Finished, he shuts off the dryer and opens his eyes, flinching at your reflection in the doorway behind him with a soft smile on your face. “Mum and Dad are going to open a bottle of wine if you want to join,” you say, meeting his eyes in the mirror.

Sunghoon can’t find it in himself to speak, only nodding in response. You smile wider but don’t move. He unplugs the hairdryer and leaves it on the desk where he found it before crossing the room. Without giving himself a chance to think about it, he pulls you into a hug and kisses the top of your head, smiling into your hair when you wrap your arms around his waist, holding him closer.

You’re sitting on the edge of the bathtub, mumbling sleepily that you’re never going to drink again, and Sunghoon leans over the sink brushing his teeth, he’s glad you have the decency to cover your mouth as you speak.

“Brush your teeth and go back to sleep then,” he mumbles around his toothbrush.

You don’t respond.

Sunghoon sighs through his nose, spitting foamy toothpaste into the sink, leaving bubbly, blue splatters on the porcelain. “And quit staring at me, I can feel your beady little eyes on the back of my neck and it’s freaking me out.”

“But you’re so pretty,” you coo.

There’s a flutter in his stomach and he rinses off the sink and his mouth, buying himself some time. With a hand on the Listerine, he lifts his gaze to meet yours in the mirror and stops short. You’re still staring at him, features soft and glowing under the afternoon light. You look like an angel; a gentle smile spreading over your lips, and a sleepy glint sparkling in your eyes, wide and gorgeous as you watch him. Sunghoon gulps, mumbling his thanks and looking back at himself. He hopes you can’t see the flush on his cheeks.

“Go back to sleep,” he says.

“Will you come and lie down with me if I do?” Your voice is a sleepy drawl, coming out in a slow, high-pitched slur, and your eyes are closing on themselves.

Lying down doesn’t sound like a terrible idea, especially not if it’s with you, so he nods. “If you brush your teeth, then yeah, baby, I’ll lie down with you.”

You chuckle softly at Sunghoon’s agreement, the sound carrying a mix of exhaustion and genuine amusement, showing no repulsion to him calling you the B-word. He didn’t mean to, it’s been a confusing few days. You nod, saluting to him and getting up to join him by the sink, using your hip to bump him out of the way, but he feels like he’s glued to the spot.

“Move, baby,” you mumble sleepily, reaching for your toothbrush. “We can cuddle in my bed,” you suggest, to which Sunghoon only nods, taking your words as a cue to unstick his feet from the floor and go to your room, playing the word ‘baby’ on a loop in his head.

He stands in the doorway staring at your bed, the duvet is all crumpled in the middle, and the pillows are in an L shape at the top corner. He sighs, he can’t go on like this, can’t stand around hoping even a tiny part of you called him ‘baby’ and it meant something for you as it did for him. It’s not fair for him to project his feelings on you like this, but he can’t help it. You’re already pretending for his parents, so would it be so bad to pretend for his sake as well? Even if only until the day after tomorrow when you leave?

The sound of the bathroom door shutting behind you snaps him out of his thoughts, your bright smile making his heart race when you tug him by the sleeve to your bed where the mattress dips underneath you as you curl into his form, resting your head on his chest and falling asleep. You’ve shared the bed before, countless times, but he knows you’ve only asked him because you’re tired. Because your brain is foggy with drowsiness that clouds your judgement, not because you want him there, not because you miss him when he’s two doors down the hall, tossing and turning at night thinking about you. He wonders absently if you can feel his aching heart beating through his chest, a painful, yet all too familiar rhythm that pulls his own eyes shut, plunging him into a deep sleep too.

It’s dark in the room when he wakes up, the sun already down behind the curtains and the soft yellow of the bedside lamp casting a glow around the space. You’re staring up at him, smiling and you don’t look away when he catches you. “What is it?” he asks, voice thick with sleep.

“Nothing,” you mumble. “I just missed you.” Sunghoon has no time to respond or even register what you said before you clear your throat, speaking again. “Come on, dad’s cooking tonight, he’ll need help.”

Helping Sunghoon’s dad with dinner always looks an awful lot like Sunghoon eating snacks on the kitchen counter and staring at you as you help his dad cook. Tonight is no exception, he’s sitting on the island, and his snack of choice is a family pack of Chilli Heatwave Doritos his mum bought for Yeji. He’ll have to remember to replace them before leaving seeing as he’s reaching the halfway point.

You go back and forth with his dad about measurements, with you rummaging through the drawers for measuring cups while his dad says it’s best to trust your gut. Reluctantly, you nod, chewing the inside of your cheek as you watch him eyeball the seasoning.

The gas stove turns the kitchen into an oven, and you complain about it while opening a window, pulling your hoodie over your head and leaving it in Sunghoon’s lap. Time stops when you grin at him, the light from the stove hood illuminating the necklace you’re wearing, his initial resting on your chest and glowing under the light. He chokes around a crisp when he sees it, catching your attention with his coughing.

“You’ll spoil your dinner, snacking like that, baby,” you scold, using a hand to push his knee. “We’re almost done, I swear.”

All he can do is nod, cheeks burning as he folds the crisp packet over before putting it back in the bread bin where he found it.

“Wow,” his dad says, resting his hands on his hips and shaking his head in amusement. “Being in love looks good on him, he’d never have listened if I said that.”

It’s already your last day when Sunghoon picks up Yeji from school. She grumbles for the entire half-hour drive and all the way to the front door about why the two of you couldn’t have started the trip today instead of ending it, but all of her irritation dissolves when she sees you in the hallway, leaving the front door wide open to fling her arms around you. You and Yeji exchange compliments for a while — You look so pretty. No, you look so pretty. I love your hair. I love your hair. — as Sunghoon locks the door and watches with a smile.

“God.” Yeji sighs, holding you by the waist and craning her neck up to look at you, as you push some of her hair from her face, pinning back her wispy bangs with the palm of your hand. Yeji giggles. “I’m so happy you two are together, even though I have no idea what a girl like you sees in my loser brother.”

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, leaning back against the wall. Despite his mild irritation at Yeji’s words, he finds the sight of you with her so adorable his stomach flutters. Over the top of Yeji’s head, you look at him with a fond smile. “He’s not so bad.”

It doesn’t sound like a compliment, but Sunghoon takes it to heart.

Like always, Yeji manages to capture your undivided attention and the two of you giggle and whisper with each other all afternoon while Sunghoon watches, too enamoured by the sight to care about being left out. An hour or so passes like this, until his parents get home from work, excited to see Yeji after a few weeks, and you leave her side, coming to cuddle with Sunghoon instead.

It’s nice being home with everyone, laughing and sharing a meal before his family walks the two of you to his car with at least a month’s worth of cooked food for you to share at university. Yeji makes you pinky promise that she can visit you and waves with a pout on her face until the car is out of view.

Contrary to what he’d been expecting, the drive back is nice. Your playlist is on, and you’re telling him about all the new songs you added, catching him up on things with Chaewon and Yunjin, and all the things you got up to in the time you spent apart. You tell him about a new café that opened up near your place and how you’ll have to go together when he has the time, and Sunghoon bites his tongue before telling you that he always has time for you. The first half of the trip goes on like this but you start dozing off around the halfway mark, your sentences becoming few and far between, eventually turning into half-mumbled thoughts that end prematurely.

You’re still asleep when he reaches your flat, head propped up against the window with your soft lips parted, looking too pretty and cosy to wake up. Instead, he drives in circles around your block, deciding to wait for you to wake up on your own. It only takes a half-hour but you blink your eyes open, stretching your neck before looking around and out the car window, recognising the street. You don’t say anything, only smiling when you look at him, a small curve of your lips that makes his heart race.

He gets out of the car with you, opening the boot to get your bag before pulling you into his chest for a hug, liking the way your arms settle around his waist. “Thank you,” he mumbles into your hair.

Sunghoon doesn’t follow you when you take your bag from him, only watching from the back of his car. You don’t notice until you reach the main door, looking over your shoulder and frowning at him. “Aren’t you going to walk me up?”

The two of you walk in silence up four flights of stairs as the lift in your building is out of order. Your bag feels much heavier in his hand now than it did outside. At your door, he watches you dig around for your keys, sighing with relief when you find them.

“Do you want to come in?” you ask from your open doorway.

“I—uh—I have training in the morning and I’m already pretty tired, so..” He trails off.

Unfazed, you nod. “Right, of course. I had fun this week.”

“Yeah, me too.”

You smile at him, sweet and sincere. “Text me when you get home, yeah?”

Sunghoon nods, saying goodbye. Out of habit, he doesn’t leave your doorstep until he hears the lock click shut, and walks back to his car with his head down.

True to his word, he sends you a text to let you know he got back to his place safely and you read it immediately but don’t reply. It’s empty in the apartment, Jake is out with his football team and the space is larger than usual in his absence. Far too tired to even consider going out and joining him, Sunghoon goes through his night routine, putting his phone on the charger and stepping into the shower where he spends entirely too long wishing he could live in this week forever as he scrubs his body. With brushed teeth and damp hair, he goes back into his room where his phone lights up with a notification; a text, from you.

YN🫀: i’m glad you got home okay, i just got into bed :) i don’t want to make you uncomfortable or overstep or anything and you can say no (obviously).. i’ve been missing you so much and didn’t know how to reach out or if you wanted me to but i had soooo much fun this week and spending time with you again made me happy, so i’d like it if we could keep hanging out, like before yk? ik it’s a long shot ahahaha but just say you’ll think about it?

hoonie: You’re not overstepping at all, I’ve missed you too, so bad. I had soooo much fun this week as well and I’d like it a lot if we kept hanging out, thank you for agreeing and coming along 😚 If you’re free after Lit tmrw you could come over? Or we could go out and do something, whatever you prefer

hoonie: I missed you so much..

hoonie: 🤍

The texts greet you as the first rays of Monday morning light filter into your room, instantly lifting your mood. Your bright smile doesn’t escape Chaewon’s notice as you find her in the kitchen, bathed in the soft light seeping through the sheer curtains. The kettle is boiling with a loud rumble that fills the whole room and leaves her yelling as she speaks to you.

“Good trip?” she asks, coming over and hugging you. “Never leave me for that long again,” she mumbles into your shirt.

“It was a week, Wonie,” you say, rolling your eyes even though you missed her too.

She leans away, looking at you with knitted brows. “It was nine days.”

“The longest of my life.”

Chaewon pulls air through her teeth, tilting her head and releasing you. “That bad, huh?” she asks, walking back to her seat at your tiny square table and shooting you a look that tells you to join her.

During your trip, you gave her nightly updates over text, so you know she knows how much you enjoyed yourself, but you elaborate anyway, sitting across from her.

“No, not at all,” you say, shaking your head and trying to fight a smile. “I had fun.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, you have to bite your bottom lip to stop the grin curving them; it doesn’t work.

Chaewon raises a suggestive brow, crossing her arms over her chest. “How much fun?”

“You’re disgusting.”

“I didn’t even say anything!” she defends, holding her hands up. “I made an implication. It was only a matter of time, you two have that whole.. lifelong best friends to lifelong lovers thing going on, and it’s hot.”

“Shut up.”

“You’re telling me, you spent nine days playing lovers with Sunghoon and you still don’t want him? You’re a lost cause, people would kill for that chance,” she says, tilting her head. “I think I would kill for that chance.”

“Don’t touch him.”

“Oh?”

“Jesus, Chaewon, it’s not like that. Hoon’s too sensitive for your roster.”

“I never said it was like anything, you’re the one who’s dangling me over the ledge for saying I want to fuck your hot best friend.”

“Sunghoon isn’t hot; he’s..” You find yourself at a loss for words, unsure how to continue your lie. Of course, Sunghoon is hot, you’ve known since you were seventeen and spent the summer at your grandparents’ house, only to come back to find your previously scrawny best friend having ditched his LEGOs for dumbbells. You sigh. “Just leave him alone.”

Chaewon grins, eyes sparkling as she leaves the table. “Okay,” she says in a singsong voice, leaving you and the irritation in your stomach alone in the kitchen.

You sigh, pressing your eyes shut and trying to will away your discomfort. It’s not like Chaewon would actually try anything with Sunghoon. Right? Even if she did, it wouldn’t bother you, nor would it be any of your business. They’re grownups and reserve the right to explore their options. Still, there’s a nagging feeling you can’t shake, an uninvited guest in the back of your mind.

When you check your phone, you realise you have half an hour before you need to head to campus, so you leave to get ready and text Sunghoon back on the way to your room.

you: sounds good, see u later 🤍

After showering, you stand in front of your wardrobe, towel hanging from your body as you pick an outfit. For some reason, you feel under pressure, picking a pair of jeans that do the most for your ass and a low-cut top that Sunghoon once — drunkenly — said he loved on you.

You have the residual sting of mouthwash on your tongue, and one foot out the door when your phone vibrates in your hand.

hoonie: Do you want to head to class together?

you: sure! i’m omw out, where should i get you?

hoonie: .. I’m outside your building :D

Breathing a laugh through your nose, you don’t fight the giddy smile on your face as you make your way downstairs to meet Sunghoon. Through the glass in the main door, he’s standing at the edge of the pavement and kicking a stone between his feet. The top of his puffer jacket covers the bottom half of his face, and the draught nips your skin when the door opens. Two girls you vaguely recognise stumble in with smudged makeup and heels in their hands, smiling at you while holding the door to let you out.

“Hey!” you call out, jogging over to him.

Sunghoon turns around, his head poking out of his jacket to grin at you, holding a travel cup and an abundance of tinfoil in your direction.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d have eaten anything yet, you don’t normally in the morning,” he says, a sheepish smile spreading over his lips when you take it. “Matcha. Ham and cheese toastie.”

“Did you make these?” you ask, inspecting the familiar cup and appreciating the warmth it provides.

He hums, nodding his head.

You ignore the heat spreading over your cheeks and thank him with a hug, grinning when he offers to hold your drink while you eat on the walk. The toastie is still hot, the cheese coming close to burning your tongue as you chew, but you appreciate it wholeheartedly, humming contently with each bite. When you’re done, you shove the foil into your pocket, taking your drink from him and smiling around the sweet taste of a matcha latte as he tells you about his schedule for the day.

“I’m meeting with Coach after class to talk about my grades, but I’m all yours after that.”

“Talk about your grades? What’s wrong with your grades?”

Sunghoon groans, head falling back and highlighting the bump of his Adam’s apple. “My grades are.. I failed my coursework this month, so I have resubmissions during finals, and I think he’ll bench me if I fail again.”

He sounds like he’s being serious, and if the look on his face is anything to go by, he is. The news creases your brows because for as long as you remember, Sunghoon’s grades were your parents’ favourite point of comparison.

“Really?” you ask. He nods. “What’s up? Is something the matter?”

A humourless laugh slips out of him before he pulls air through his teeth. “Yeah, my best friend didn’t talk to me for three months.”

“Oh..” Guilt stirs your stomach as you look up at him. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not blaming you, it’s not like I was trying to talk and you ignored me.” He nudges your arm with his elbow, giving you a warm smile. “But if you feel as guilty about it as you look, you can tutor me for Lit.”

“Deal.”

Sunghoon grins, wrapping his arm over your shoulders and holding you close; the action itself isn’t unusual, but the increased heart rate it brings about is. “You’re too good to me,” he says, holding onto you for the rest of the walk to class.

At his request, you sit with Sunghoon in the back row, watching as the lecture hall gradually fills up in front of you. He seems well-prepared, with his laptop and a small notepad and pen neatly arranged on the desk in front of him.

Throughout the class, your eyes inadvertently track his every move. He diligently types up colour-coded notes, occasionally pausing to write things in his notepad before continuing to type or stopping entirely to listen. There’s something melodic about his actions and the way his fingers run over the keyboard.

During a five-minute break, you glance at his screen. What you find is more than just lecture content; it’s a document adorned with Sunghoon’s own musings about Hemingway’s style and carefully analysed quotations that go beyond the class discussion.

“How are your notes so good?”

“I picked up the book over the summer when you mentioned it,” Sunghoon replies with a shrug, a shy smile playing on his lips as he leans back in his seat. “I liked it.”

A slow nod is your response, though your thoughts swirl like autumn leaves in a breeze. The last time Sunghoon read for leisure, you were in primary school, buddy reading Diary of a Wimpy Kid. But this—this is different. You can’t help but stare at him, awestruck as you take him in. His eyes are wide, shining amber in the sunlight as he pushes some of his hair from his face, frowning when it falls back where it was.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he mumbles.

Sunghoon takes a new line in his document and points at the screen where you watch the cursor move through the words he’s typing: I would’ve read and annotated the Bible if you wanted me to..

There’s no time to digest what he wrote or the funny feeling in your chest as you reread it before he deletes the whole sentence, pressing his lips together and looking out the window. Speechless, you stare at his side profile, willing your heart rate to slip back to normal. Steep-sloping nose, plump lips flattened into a line, two points of the triangular mole constellation on his face. Analysis worsens your condition, breath hitching in your throat before stopping entirely. Warmth and trepidation blend within you, fuzzy enough at the edges to seem like one thing—a single force that makes your palm itch with desire, desperation, to reach out and run a finger over his features, feel the bump of the mole on his nose — the most prominent — against your skin.

You remain this way — silent, watching — even when your lecturer resumes the lesson, and Sunghoon starts typing, writing, and listening again. Polite enough to pretend he doesn’t notice your gaze searing into his face.

After class, and his meeting with Coach, you let Sunghoon lead the conversation and the way to your flat, where you find Chaewon and Yunjin sitting on the couch, whispering to themselves while the two of you study at the coffee table. It’s uncomfortable, an awkward height, too high for the way you’re sitting but you feel calm under the supervision of Chaewon and Yunjin—you won’t do anything to merit teasing in front of them, no matter how badly you want to feel Sunghoon’s face in your hands or stroke his cheekbones with your thumbs.

To the best of your ability, you answer the questions he has for you—he’d written a ton in his tiny notepad during class, his own concerns clear with each neatly-penned iteration of: How to see actions/dialogue for what they are and not what I want them to be? written in the margins and you try not to feel heartbroken for him.

Three hours have passed by when you walk him to the door, the two of you wrapped up in a bubble so secure you’re surprised to find Chaewon and Yunjin still sitting on the couch. They don’t say anything about Sunghoon in his absence, or the fact he’d given you his sweater when he noticed you were cold. You’re not sure why their silence disappoints you.

Instead, Yunjin asks you about trivial things like dinner while Chaewon sits in silence.

“What flavour for ice cream?” Yunjin asks, rolling her eyes when you tug on the blanket but not complaining. “And don’t say something ridiculous like mint chocolate, YN.”

“That happened once! And it was three years ago.. How was I supposed to know you hate fun?”

Chaewon leans into you, letting you curl your limbs around her from behind as you rest your chin on her shoulder, liking the way her clean scent tickles your nose.

“Mint-cho isn’t that bad,” she starts. “It’s a little jarring, sure, but it’s kind of sweet. Like watching people come to terms with their feelings for each other.”

You nod your head, humming in understanding and furrowing your brows when Yunjin scoffs, staring straight at you. Her tone is equal parts cutting and loving, so you know she’s not trying to insult you, but don’t know what she means when she says, “It must be so nice to be as oblivious as you.”

Yunjin never elaborates, and you never ask, actually feeling the statement’s journey in through one of your ears and out the other when dinner arrives. The three of you share pizza, ice cream, and secrets — the three pillars of 20-something-teenage-girlhood — at the kitchen table, with Chaewon sitting in your lap and picking pepperoni from your slices.

It’s only hours after Yunijn’s gone home, that her words circle back to you, the statement and all of its weight perching on your chest with all the debilitation and persistence of a sleep paralysis demon.

“I think I’m getting sick,” you say as soon as she opens her door. “It’s been coming on for a while now, at least a week, maybe more.”

Unimpressed and exhausted, Yunjin looks down at you through half-closed eyes. “Do you..” She pinches the bridge of her nose, sighing. “Do you have any idea what time it is right now?”

“Yes. It’s three a.m.”

“Exactly. See a doctor if you’re sick, I’m going back to sleep.”

“This is an emergen—” Yunjin cuts you off by pinching your lips together. “It’s three in the morning,” she reminds you. “You can’t yell like that in my hallway, come in.”

You nod, crossing the threshold and taking off your shoes next to hers. “Sorry,” you whisper when the door is closed.

Using her hand, Yunjin lifts your chin, squinting as her eyes adjust to the light when she flips the switch to inspect your face. “You don’t look or sound sick,” she mutters, flicking the light back off and going to her room. “What are your symptoms? And why did you come here?”

You don’t have an answer for her last question so you ignore it, following her and tripping over a pair of her shoes in the process. “My cheeks start burning like crazy and my heart races, sometimes it gets hard to breathe.”

“You seem fine to me.”

A shoulder-slumping sigh slips from your lips. “That’s the thing. I’ll be fine and then Sunghoon shows up with his pretty smile and perfect hair and I feel like I’ve run a marathon.” You know how it sounds, choosing your wording meticulously to let Yunjin be the one to say the words out loud instead of you—it’ll be easier to confront that way.

From the doorway, you watch as she arches a brow, her interest piqued. “Oh?”

“I know.” You nod, head bobbing rapidly in furious agreement. “It’s only a matter of time before I cough up a lung and die in his bedroom.”

At your words, Yunjin doesn't reply, only lifting her duvet and getting cosy underneath. You feel like you’re glued to the spot, waiting for her to say something, anything, but nothing comes. All she does is pat the empty spot in her bed.

“What are you smirking for?” you ask, entering the room properly and closing the door.

Her response only comes after you’ve taken your jacket and hoodie off, sitting next to her under the covers. “It’s nothing,” she says, laughing.

“Tell me.”

Yunjin sighs, resting a hand gently on your shoulder. You think it’s meant to be comforting but it’s the opposite. “You’ll be fine, I promise. Lovesickness isn’t deadly.”

Feeling the weight of her reassurance, you settle down properly and sigh when your head hits the pillow. Lovesickness. Hmm.

Closing your eyes, you try to sleep but can’t help tossing and turning as Yunjin snores behind you. You pat blindly around the end table for your phone, grabbing it and wincing at the brightness of your screen. Chewing on your lip, you open Google, looking up ‘lovesickness’ and frowning immediately at the results. Endless negativity fills the screen, terrifying words like ‘unrequited love’ forming a pit in your stomach. There’s nothing negative about what you feel for Sunghoon, nothing unrequited—you think.

It was obvious during the trip, painfully so. In the way he’d tuck your hair behind your ear when his parents weren’t there to see, or how he slipped up and called you ‘baby’ in the bathroom, blushing when you said it back. You can’t fake something like that.. Can you?

Yeonjun did.

Shaking your head, you open Instagram to distract yourself. Jake’s story comes up first; he’s at a party where Jay is losing a game of beer pong, and at the other end of the table is Sunghoon grinning with a bright red lipstick kiss on his cheek. You lock your phone, using your hands to press on your belly to stop the stirring.

Oh, you think. Lovesickness.

When you wake up, the first thing you do is check Jake’s story again. The video is still there and that terrible stir in your stomach churns on, burrowing deeply into a pit of canyon-like proportion—so vast there’s a safety railing lining its edges.

You eat breakfast in silence with Yunjin, zoning out mid-chew to figure out the origin of these feelings and how to handle them. Suddenly, the moment hits you clear as day, vivid like you’re watching it on a screen—it was your third night at his parents’ house, after your walk.

You felt bad about how you acted, and what you said, so went straight up to your room. With nothing but the bedside lamp turned on, it was dimly lit, shadows cast on the walls as you sulked, replaying everything in your head. Guilt wrapped its long arms around your body, making you feel sick as you thought about it all. About the hurt etched over his face with every word you said, and the frown that stuck around for the rest of the walk as his hand clung limply to yours.

There was a knock at the door, so gentle you almost missed it, and Sunghoon was standing there when you pulled it open, chewing on his lip with a mug in his hand. Steam skated over the opening, a rich chocolatey smell hitting your nose but the real kicker was the mug itself. In its place on Jake and Sunghoon’s mug tree, it was unassuming, a regular white mug, but upon meeting hot water, the face of young Sunghoon appeared, grinning with his tiny glasses on. It was a gift from one of his old coaches and though he never used it, it was your absolute favourite cup in the world.

You felt soft around the edges when you looked up at him, his eyes wide and unsure as you met his gaze—he brought that mug three hours across the country so you could use it again. The thought shifted your heart into a comfortable position, settling in your chest with overwhelming warmth and an increased rate.

“Hi,” you said, clearing your throat.

“Hi,” he repeated, holding the mug out for you to take. “It’s still hot so be careful.”

Nodding, you covered your hands with your sleeves, taking the cup from him and asking if he wanted to come in. Sunghoon nodded, shutting the door behind him and standing by the bed, watching you set the hot chocolate on the bedside table as you sat down. The two of you stayed like that for a while, with him only moving when you patted the spot next to you on the duvet. Your train of thought escaped you as soon as he sat down, the warmth of his familiar fresh, citrusy scent taking over and becoming the only thing you could register. The smell of summers with him, long days at the beach and short nights spent on the couch at random parties, cuddled into his side with his arm over your shoulders. The smell you’d come to associate with comfort and home—with Sunghoon.

“It’s not fair for me to treat you like shit just because I’m annoyed, I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that earlier. I’m sorry.”

A crease ran over Sunghoon’s thick brows as they tugged together, he shook his head. “You don’t have to apologise. I roped you into this whole thing and didn’t even try to think about how you would feel. I’m sorry.” His eyes carried a mix of regret and sincerity, mirroring the weight of his words.

“Anyway, I only came to bring you that,” he said, pointing at the cup. “And to check up on you, I’ll get out of your hair for tonight.” Sunghoon wiped his palms on his pants before standing up, reaching behind him to pick up the cloth he brought. For a moment, he stood there, staring down at it in his hand while you thought about telling him to stay, telling him that you wanted him in your hair—whatever that meant. But he spoke before you had the chance. “You left this, at mine, after.. well, you know. I’m sure you left it intentionally, I mean it was folded up perfectly on the end of my bed, so I know you did, but it didn’t feel right keeping it, you always wore it more than me.”

Sunghoon extended his hand, holding it out to you and you knew exactly what it was as soon as the fabric touched your skin after so long. It was the shirt Jay bought him for Christmas in first year—they were roommates still trying to get a feel for each other. For a few weeks, Sunghoon had been pestering you about what he should get for Jay, saying it didn’t feel right not to get him anything, and you suggested a targeted t-shirt, one you’d been laughing at all day after seeing an ad for it on your timeline. Sunghoon was sceptical, but bought the red shirt anyway, hoping Jay would find BEING DAD IS AN HONOUR, BEING PAPA IS PRICELESS funny. He did. And Jay bought Sunghoon a targeted shirt too, your favourite. It was black and two sizes too big, with I NEVER DREAMED I’D BE A SEXY FIGURE SKATER BUT HERE I AM KILLING IT written over the chest.

“Goodnight, YN,” Sunghoon said, crossing the room to leave but hesitating before closing the door. He poked his head through the opening and sighed. “I really am sorry.”

That night, you fell asleep in the shirt, the thinning, yet cosy, fabric wrapped around you like a hug as your heart started to beat a new rhythm, one that eerily echoed the five-foot-eleven figure skater who you let break it.

This morning, Yunjin claps her hands in your face, seeming irritated when you look over at her. “You have class in an hour, what are you doing?” Before you have the chance to speak, realisation covers her face. “Oh, the feelings.”

You nod solemnly, too caught up in the butterflies raiding your stomach to come up with something to say.

At lightspeed, you scarf down the rest of your food, apologising for showing up so late as you head out the door. When you get home, you take the fastest shower of your life and feel grateful Chaewon isn’t around to tease you about the smile you can’t wipe from your face thinking about Sunghoon—you’ll text her later.

You run to campus, feeling the brisk autumn wind beating against your face while the rest of your body overheats under your jacket, hoodie and long sleeve. Despite the discomfort and ache in your lungs, you don’t stop until you reach the door of your lecture hall, huffing and puffing into the faces of classmates who don’t take any notice. Of course, in a stroke of pure luck, your lecturer is late, and you realise bitterly, that all of your huffing and puffing was in vain—you would have gotten to class with time to spare even if you walked.

It’s not a total waste though; you use the time to update Chaewon.

you: i have news wonie.. i like sunghoon

wonie: …………….. fork in the kitchen yn what’s the news?

wonie: OHHHH news to YOU.. can i call?

She calls you immediately. You answer without thinking because your lecturer still hasn’t arrived, and there’s no one sitting close enough to hear or notice you taking a call.

“Are you going to tell him?!” Chaewon’s voice is so loud you wince, pulling the phone away from your ear.

“I don’t know.” You shrug even though she can’t see you, still holding the device at a distance just in case. “I don’t have any confirmation that he still.. likes me. It’s been a while, and I was pretty mean that day.

Chaewon groans and you can picture her throwing herself onto her bed, exasperated. The rustling that comes through the receiver only frames the image, hanging it up. “Did you have to tell him to get a grip?”

“You know..” You trail off, chewing on your bottom lip. “In hindsight, probably not.”

A beat passes, she’s thinking. “Don’t worry,” she says. “I’ll help you.”

“I.. have never been so worried in my life.” You sigh, picking at your freshly painted nails. “But I know you’ll do something no matter what I say, so do what you want, Wonie, but please be subtle about it.”

Chaewon squeals down the phone. “I love youuuuu!” And it’s the last thing she says before kissing the mic a few times and hanging up.

Slumping in your seat, you don’t have any time to stress about Chaewon’s plans because your lecturer walks in, with a travel cup in her hand and a paperback tucked under her arm.

She apologises for being late, running a hand through her hair as she announces that you’ll be watching a film, an adaptation of a book you read at the start of term—Ian McEwan’s Atonement. You spend the first hour of the movie falling in and out of sleep until a text comes through from Sunghoon, and sheer excitement keeps you up.

hoonie: Wanna study together after class?

you: of course!!!!!!

hoonie: 🤍

The rest of the movie goes by in a drag, and you come away from it with a mild irritation towards Saoirse Ronan.

you: class just finished, heading to lib rn

hoonie: Shit, still in the locker room, sorry !!! Omw, can you get a table?

you: i’ll try..

It takes a while but you find an empty booth on the second floor, and set your bag on the plush green seat to take pictures of your surroundings to send to Sunghoon. You sit on the side facing the stairs so he can see you when he arrives. The thought of seeing him makes your heart race and you try out a few natural-seeming poses for when he’s here, cycling between resting your palm under your chin and sitting with your arms crossed a few times until the top of his head comes into view.

Seeing him knocks the wind out of you as he approaches the staircase, taking them two at a time with his damp hair clinging to his forehead and neck. It doesn’t help that he’s wearing a tight black vest, and his sweats are hanging low on his hips. A breath you didn’t realise you were holding slips out when he lifts his head, spotting you immediately as a grin spreads over his lips and he raises his arm to wave, the veins in his forearm peeking out to say hi too. You can’t tell if it’s his lack of winter wardrobe or your newfound appreciation for him that’s making his biceps look so huge but it’s hard to look away, even when he reaches the table.

“Are you hot?” you blurt out.

Sunghoon laughs, raising a brow and something about the way he’s looking down at you makes your cheeks burn. “Depends who’s asking.” He takes his backpack off, leaving it on the table as he sits down, dumping his jacket and hoodie in a pile beside him.

“I’m asking,” you mumble.

“Then, yeah, I’d hope so.”

Is he flirting? It sounds like he’s flirting. Flirt back! “Nice arms.”

He looks down at his biceps for a beat before looking at you warily. “Are you flirting with me?” He can’t fight the smile twitching at the corners of his lips but he tries his best, pressing them into a straight line.

“A little. They are nice though,” you admit.

Sunghoon grins. “Thanks, I’ve had them for a while now.”

You can’t come up with anything to say, too distracted by the way his smile reaches his eyes, lighting up his whole face and forcing a flustered heat to spread over your cheeks and neck. It’s only when you look away from him that you remember what you’re here for. It’s a study date, not a study date—there’s a difference.

You hand Sunghoon the material you’d printed for him over the weekend, excerpts from texts you’d studied in class, so he can practise close reading and proper citation. As he makes his way through them, you can’t help stealing glances, smiling at the way his tongue sticks out a little while he focuses, or how he twirls his pen in his fingers while he’s thinking. You aren’t making the best use of your time together, copying out the slides from class yesterday, but you can’t help noticing the way he watches you when he thinks you can’t see. The small smile on his face while he does so only flusters you, an odd weakness settling in your knees as your cheeks heat up.

After a while, Sunghoon sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Could you stop watching me?”

“If you noticed me watching, that means you’re watching me.”

He shrugs, chewing on his lip. “Well, yeah. I’m always watching you,” he says like it’s a given. “But you don’t normally watch back, it’s distracting.”

“You’re distracting.”

A playful smile curves his lips as he arches a brow, smugness painting his face. “Am I?”

Too scared to verbalise your response, you nod slowly, hoping you don’t look as wound up as you feel.

Sunghoon’s eyes flick over your face, flashing with something you don’t recognise. At least not from him. He sits back in his seat, assessing you and eventually shaking his head.

“You know,” he says, eyes glowing with something you do recognise: cockiness. “If my sexy arms are getting to you that much, I can always put my hoodie back on. Wouldn’t want my little tutor getting distracted, would I?”

Oh.

Your stomach turns with want, mind reeling from his tone and the way his gaze lands on your lips. Sighing, you roll your eyes and try to seem unaffected. “Sunghoon, I never said your arms were sexy.”

His phone starts to go off, buzzing against the table and he turns it over immediately, screen down on the surface as he shifts his focus back to his work. He chews on his lip while he does, eyes flicking back and forth between his phone and the words on the page. Curious, you lean over the table, elbows propped up as you rest your chin in your hands. He doesn’t spare you or his phone, which vibrates another four times, a glance.

“Are you going to get that?”

Sunghoon shakes his head. “It’s nothing.”

You hum, letting just enough curiosity seep into the sound that he’ll elaborate without being asked to. It doesn’t take long for him to deliver.

“It’s just Chaewon,” he says, running his hand through his hair and lifting his head. Sunghoon smiles. “We’ve been texting a lot these days.”

“Cool.” You nod a few times, aiming for nonchalance but hitting bobblehead as you wait for him to continue. He doesn’t, only humming in response, nodding too.

After a beat, he picks up his phone, angling it just high enough that you can’t see the screen. He reads the messages, an exhaled laugh coming from his nose as the tips of his ears redden—Fuck. This is worse than you thought.

Chaewon’s commitment to girl code runs deep—she’s been rebuffing Jake since first year when she overheard a girl she’d never seen before telling her friends she thought he was cute. So you know without having to read the texts that nothing she’s saying is even remotely flirty, you can smell the auto-caps and use of the word ‘buddy’ from across the table.

What you hadn’t counted on, however, was the potential for Sunghoon’s feelings to shift. If they really have been texting more, can you rule out the possibility that he might like.. her? Chaewon is a catch, beyond a catch, and you’d already turned Sunghoon down. Brutally. Of course, he’d move on, he has moved on.

The rest of the study session is spent manifesting, writing Park Sunghoon over and over in the back of your notebook. You fill three pages while brainstorming ways to snatch a lock of his hair until he suggests that the two of you call it a day. He walks you home, telling you about how Jake’s been bribing him with food to get a ride to the LEGO store across town for the new Marvel set.

“With or without the meals, I would’ve taken him, but his ramen is my favourite, so..” Sunghoon says, climbing the last step of your building and holding the door open for you. “He even brought a slice of tiramisu to the rink for me after practice.”

“You’re terrible,” you say, frowning up at him as you search for your keys. “Do you want to come in?”

Sunghoon chuckles, shaking his head. “I have a meeting with one of my lecturers soon, I’d have to leave in—” He pauses, rolling up the sleeve of his jacket to check the time. “—eight minutes.”

“I’m cool with that if you are,” you mumble, suddenly shy.

A bright smile spreads over his lips and he nods, following you in.

Chilled by the harsh wind, the only thing on your mind is a hot drink as you lead Sunghoon to the kitchen. He shakes his head when you offer him one, sitting on the countertop and exhaling into his palms before rubbing them together. You can’t help but frown at the sight, feeling guilty that you can’t change the weather to suit him. At your thought process, your brows raise. Wow, you think. Is this who you are?

You busy yourself with the selection of hot drinks you and Chaewon have accumulated, eyeing each container from top to bottom. A purple tub of Cadbury’s hot chocolate that you’re sure is on the brink of expiration, coffee—sachets of the instant stuff you’ve grown to like since leaving home, Earl grey from one of many brands, or the fancy silk tea bags Chaewon’s mum brought home from a trip—rooibos or plum-apple-cinnamon.

Craving something sweet, you settle for hot chocolate, pulling the heavy container from the cupboard next to Sunghoon’s head and setting it beside your cup. He’s on his phone, scrolling too fast to take in anything he’s seeing and he shakes his head when you ask if he wants something to drink.

On the dish rack, Chaewon’s mug catches your eye, so you pick it up to dry it off and put it down next to yours. “I’m going to check if Wonie wants any,” you say, wiping imaginary crumbs from the counter onto the floor.

Sunghoon only clears his throat, shaking his head. “She’s not home, one of her acrylics popped off so she’s at the shop waiting for a cancellation.”

The information itself isn’t jarring but hearing it from Sunghoon is. You put on what you hope is a neutral smile and nod, taking milk from the fridge and assembling your drink on autopilot while thinking of ways to redirect the conversation.

“If you knew you’d have to go back to campus so soon, why’d you walk me home?” you ask, watching your cup spin in the microwave. “I could’ve walked on my own.”

Sunghoon is already looking at you when you turn your head, his cheeks puffed out with air as he blinks slowly. Because I love you, is what you hope he’ll say. You think you need him to say it.

“Because you don’t have to do anything on your own when you have me,” he says instead, and it’s infinitely better.

The words seep through your every fibre, his intonation and lucid affection making a home for themselves in your heart, spreading warmth from head to toe. Your smile becomes a radiant grin, only brightening when he shakes his head, smiling down at his feet.

Sunghoon hugs you in the kitchen when it’s time for him to leave, his arms holding you tight to his chest as he rocks you back and forth. You inhale his scent, all warm citrus under freshly washed cotton and something exclusive to him.

Wiping the smile from your face feels impossible. You don’t let go when he does, and a sweet laugh — a giggle, you think — tumbles out of him as he mumbles that he really has to go. Still, you cling onto him, taking clumsy steps backwards, with your arms locked around his waist, to your front door, smiling as you watch him put his shoes on.

“You don’t have to walk me downstairs, honestly,” he says, looking down at you in the doorway.

“I want to.”

His lips quirk up at the corners, a full smile breaking through and causing your stomach to flutter with so much force you’re sure it’s visible through your shirt. His eyes fall to your lips, lingering, before he clears his throat, looking away.

“I’ll text you when I get to the door, promise.”

You lock your pinky with his. “Send a selfie, just so I know it’s you and not someone else using your phone.”

Sunghoon’s head falls back in a laugh. “Should I just call you? That way you can make sure I get back to uni in one piece.”

You nod.

“That wasn’t anything with Chaewon earlier, I just needed advice on some girl stuff..” He trails off, searching your eyes. It’s obvious that he’s telling the truth, that he wants you to believe him. You do. “I wasn’t sure if that was something I could talk about with you.”

Girl stuff. Hmm. You try not to read too much into it and look at the bigger picture instead—your best friend is going through something and doesn’t feel like he can come to you about it.. You squeeze his pinky reassuringly, a flutter in your stomach when he smiles.

“You can talk to me about anything,” you say, meaning it.

Sunghoon presses his lips together, humming and unlinking your fingers. “Next time,” he says after a beat, waving at you.

You shut the door, locking it while watching through the peephole, he leaves as soon as the lock clicks shut. In the kitchen, your hot chocolate is cooling down, and your phone rings in your back pocket. Sunghoon’s calling.

Hanging out with Sunghoon. Making sure he sticks to the time-blocked schedule you made for him. Quizzing him on biology terms until he gets restless. If the last two weeks were an episode of Family Feud, those would be the top three answers to the question: Name something YN is doing right now.

Thankfully tonight, it’s the first one.

You’ve been sitting on the couch for so long, Jake has both left for football practice and arrived from football practice. Conversation ebbs and flows—an hour or so of nonstop talking, followed by another hour or so of comfortable near silence.

It’s during a quiet hour that Sunghoon sits up straight, clearing his throat before saying, “Let me ask you something. He retreats to the other side of the couch, turning to face you with his whole body. “I don’t want things to be weird after I ask, so no matter what your answer is, I won’t bring it up or ask again.”

Arching a curious brow, you nod. “You can ask me anything,” you say, meaning it.

Sunghoon’s face is impressively blank—minus the motion of sharp teeth worrying plush lip, there’s absolutely nothing behind his eyes that seem to stare right through you.

Eventually, he asks, “Can I kiss you?” He says more. Big, scary words like for closure and moving on, but they don’t register. They don’t matter.

Your heart pounds at the base of your throat as you find interest in your hands that sit in your lap. Even without looking at him, you can’t get over the slight crease he had in his brow and the slight tremor in his hands.

“For closure,” you repeat, though your voice doesn’t sound like it’s coming from you, muffled under the thump of your heart.

Sunghoon nods. “For closure.”

A humourless laugh sneaks past your throat as you look at him. You shouldn’t have. In the lamplight, Sunghoon is golden and glorious. Warm light casts one side of his face, diffusing gently over the steep slope of his nose, highlighting his moles and the look in his eyes, gentle and curious all at once. Unwillingly, your gaze falls to his lips, parted, tempting.

One firm nod of your head brings Sunghoon’s hand to your face, his palm cupping your cheek with soft skin as his thumb traces your cheekbone. You grow anxious under his stare, under the drag of his eyes over your features, taking them one at a time like he’s committing them to memory.

Leaning in, your eyes flutter shut as your lips meet his and he freezes, mouth completely still on yours. Delicately, your tongue traces the seam of his lips, soft and plump, until they part for you, moving with yours. Sunghoon’s kiss is unpolished when it reaches you. It’s hesitant but tender, clumsy but sweet, he’s trying and he’s perfect; your favourite.

The kiss is.. it’s everything. It’s the racing of your heart, the thudding, the vibrant buzz you can hear, feel humming against your ears. It’s a rush of blood to the head, a lightness all over that pulls you out of your body. It’s Sunghoon’s soft lips curving into a smile against yours, his gentle hold on your face never letting up as he holds you as close as he can manage, and it’s every bit as lovely as the rest of him.

Palpable is the heartbeat of your friendship, beating to a lull under the surface of the kiss, fizzling out into nothing, a steady silence, flatlining to give way to something more, something bigger.

Every brush of your lips against his is a revelation, a confession. You’re all I’ve ever wanted, you tell him with your kiss. You’re everything I need. His free hand finds yours, locking your fingers and squeezing, the action timed well enough to make you think he hears you, to make you think he’s saying, we’ll be okay, I still love you.

With that, he pulls away, a delicate tension piercing the air. Blown eyes and laboured breathing—he’s beautiful, fuzzy around the edges with warm orange and all of the love in your heart. Breathless, you chew on your lip, cognisant of Sunghoon’s hand in yours and the sparkle in his eyes as he looks at you.

Belatedly, you squeeze his hand back, smiling. “Was it everything you ever dreamed of?” you whisper, part teasing, all curious.

Abruptly, Sunghoon stands up, letting go of you in the process. “I have to go.”

You want to stop him, you think you’re supposed to. To grab him by the arm and kiss him again, to yell in his face that you love him until he understands. But you don’t. Instead, you stay seated, staring at Sunghoon’s back and following him with your eyes out of the room and down the hall until he’s out of sight.

It’s your first time being so upset after a kiss, and you can’t tell if it’s his leaving or the mention of him moving on that’s tripping you up so much. That’s causing melancholy to crawl from the shadows, sinking its jagged nails into your skin to pull you under.

You love him. He’s gone.

Eyes stuck on the doorway, time stretches over the room around you, thick and malleable, wet and cloying—clay stuck under your nails for days as the fire in the kiln rages on.

Sighing, you get up and wait at his door. You ball your hand into a limp fist, knocking weakly. Sunghoon doesn’t reply. You try again, harder. Still nothing.

Barging into the room, you find him sitting on the end of his bed with his face in his hands.

“Don’t move on.” The words come out before you realise and Sunghoon lifts his head, squinting at you.

“Huh?” He tilts his head, watching closely as you approach him, tipping it back enough to meet your eyes when you stand over him.

You take a breath, holding it until your head starts to spin. “I don’t want you to love someone else, Sunghoon. Please don’t move on.”

The stillness that follows is disconcerting, a long quiet you can feel on your skin, amplifying the blank stare on his face as he looks up at you. His eyes flash, a spark of hope behind them so bright it stings to look at.

“Do you..” He trails off, his lips moving to form the next word though stopping short.

“I do,” you whisper, nodding. “I’m sorry for taking so long.”

An exhaled laugh comes from his nose as he grins, shaking his head. “You like me?” he asks, excitement and disbelief fighting for authority over his voice, his hands holding your waist and pulling you down into his lap.

“I love you,” you admit, settling on his thighs.

“You do?” His eyes are wide and gleaming, searching every feature on your face before settling on your own.

You nod. “So much.”

Sunghoon’s chin tips up, his lips pressing against yours, excited pecks that can’t turn into much more for the smiles on your faces. You rest your arms on his shoulders, hands clasping behind his head, nervous fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“So.. will you be my boyfriend? For real?”

Tilting his head, he tries and fails to fight a smile. “I will. I’m a little bummed though.”

“Why?” You raise a brow, and the word tips up at the end with it.

“I wanted to be the one to ask you.” Sunghoon’s honesty warms the room, endearing you completely.

You grin, loving the heat spreading over your cheeks. “Ask me anyway.”

“Please can I be your boyfriend?”

In the weeks that followed, it became immediately clear that boyfriend Sunghoon operated on a pendulum swinging between sexual ferality and terror. He’d get distracted during study sessions at home, finding more interest in biting at your neck than stream-of-consciousness prose, but closed his eyes if a sex scene came on TV. He’d buck his hips against yours while making out but flinch at the sight of condoms in the store.

He wasn’t ready to have sex and didn’t know how to tell you, so you took matters into your own hands, asking if you could wait until after his results for resubmission came in, saying you didn’t want the distraction for either of you. Sunghoon agreed, pecking your cheek and holding you tight to his chest.

The only thing was that your lecturer hadn’t given him an exact date, so every morning, you held your phone in a vice grip waiting for Sunghoon to update you, and every morning, you got the same text: Nothing today, baby ☹️

This morning, you’re brushing your teeth when he texts you, in all caps: NO FUCKING WAY I GOT A 98 !!! LOOK !!!

When the picture comes through, it’s of him in the mirror and you choke on mouthwash at the sight. He’s smiling, bright and beautiful, in a black vest that he’s holding up a little to show his stomach, though his palm is in the way of his toned abs, and it cuts off right at the top of his grey sweatpants.

Your mouth goes dry as you click on it, fixating on every little detail you can find: the thickness of his fingers against his phone, the dip in his collarbones, the breadth of his shoulders and the cinch of his waist. In a fit of desperation, you try swiping at the bottom of your screen, willing the picture to magically extend. It doesn’t.

hoonie: Finger slipped.. You like?

you: mm..

you: 98??? HOLY SHIT, LOOK AT YOU!!!

hoonie: All you.. do you like the picture?

you: i love it………….

hoonie: My girl 🤍

Another picture comes in, and sure enough, through the glare of his laptop screen, you see: Course name: The Modernist Movement: Joyce, Woolf, and Hemingway. Marks Awarded: 98.0.

you: well done baby !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

hoonie: Thx 😁

hoonie: Can I have my prize now ha ha .. haha 😈

you: just for that emoji, no you absolutely cannot.

Your resolve isn’t strong enough when it comes to Sunghoon, because purple devil emoji and all, you show up at his door with condoms in your bag and a bouquet of lilies behind your back.

The door creaks open and Sunghoon greets you with a grin. “Hey, gorgeous. You proud of me?”

You beam at him, holding out the flowers. “I’m very proud, Hoon, well done.”

“I don’t want to ruin the moment,” he starts, taking the bouquet from your hands and sniffing the flowers with an approving smile. “But hearing you say you’re proud of me is awakening something I didn’t know existed.”

“A good something?”

“Mm,” he hums, arms finding your waist before he pecks your lips. “A very good something.”

Sunghoon’s words hit your lips and your core, a desperate heat flooding your stomach as he kisses you deeply, his body pressed tightly against yours while he pulls you into his apartment. He kicks the door shut with his foot, slipping his hand under your jacket to settle in your back pocket, not quite squeezing but holding your ass as gently as he can manage.

He breaks away from you, love in his eyes as he stares down into yours, catching his breath. “I don’t think we own a vase.”

In his kitchen, you rifle through cupboards to find something to hold the flowers, eventually finding a whiskey decanter in the cupboard under the sink, and holding it up for Sunghoon to see.

“Oh, yeah,” he says. “It’s Jay’s. It’ll work right?”

You nod, taking it to the sink to rinse it. Sunghoon wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder watching you fill the decanter with water and flower food before grabbing the bouquet. He presses open-mouthed kisses to your neck and you struggle to stay focused as you cut down the stems on the flowers, arranging them neatly.

“Can I take a photo?” he asks when you’re done.

He’s smiling when you turn around to look at him, a soft curve of his lips that makes your heart race, a deep tenderness in his eyes when you meet them. You smile too.

“They’re yours, baby, do whatever you want.”

“A photo of you with the flowers,” he clarifies.

Warmth settles in your chest, a grin spreading over your lips from ear to ear. You nod, taking the decanter in your hands when he lets go of you, holding the flowers up beside your face and smiling for his camera. As his phone shutter clicks away, you steal glances at his face behind it. He’s watching the screen with a smile, telling you how beautiful you are.

“I want pictures of you too,” you say, handing the flowers over.

“I’m yours, baby, do whatever you want.”

Sunghoon poses for your photos, smiling sweetly in some and sniffing the bouquet appreciatively with closed eyes for others. He’s glowing and he’s beautiful and your heart triples in size while taking picture after picture until your phone tells you it has ten percent.

“Thank you, YN,” he says. “I’ve never gotten flowers before, I love them.” His arms settle around your waist, lips pressing against yours before you have the chance to respond.

You try anyway, mumbling against his lips that you love him. In response, Sunghoon grins, but the feeling of his cock growing hard against you is distracting, a lust-coated thorn in the side of the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. With locked lips and uncertain steps, the two of you bump into corners and trip over your own feet, stumbling to his room and parting only to tear his hoodie over his head.

Breathless, you pull away, eyes trailing over him and picking up on everything, from the tremble in his hands to the lust-addled worry in his eyes. He’s nervous, you think—though it escapes you, the last word coming out like a question.

Sunghoon scoffs, his hands resting on your waist under your shirt, skin clammy against yours. “Of course, I’m nervous.”

“You don’t have to be.”

“I just want to be good for you.”

“Don’t worry about that, let me take care of you, Hoon.” Your palms drag up his torso — firm abs through soft cotton, defined chest over racing heart — to rest on his shoulders. “Sit,” you say when he nods.

He gulps, taking a seat on the end of his bed under your gentle push, eyes widening when you sink to your knees between his legs and reach for his drawstring, pulling the ends to untie the knot.

“Wait,” Sunghoon says, breathless, scrunching up his face and dropping his head. “Let me calm down, baby. At this rate, I’ll come just seeing your hand on it.”

You giggle, resting your head on his thigh and wrapping the drawstring around your finger.

“I’m serious, YN,” he mumbles, laughing as he takes his vest off. “I need a minute.”

Sunghoon’s eyes are pressed shut as he tries to collect himself, lips pouty and kiss-bitten, slightly parted with ragged breaths slipping out. You wait patiently for him. He’s so pretty like this, with the crease in his brow and the pretty pink flush dusting his cheeks as his chest rises and falls. You can’t help but smile, leaning into his touch when his hand rests on top of your head, his blunt nails grazing your scalp. After a while, he seems more at ease, his eyes finding yours and he smiles shyly, telling you he’s ready now and lifting his hips from the bed to let you pull his sweats and underwear down.

Free from the constraints of fabric, his cock slaps his stomach with a wet sound as the tip meets his skin, leaving a pearlescent streak over his abs. The sight makes your mouth water and you can’t look away. “Pretty,” you whisper.

Wrapping a hand under his tip, you swipe it with your thumb, taking time to memorise the flutter of his eyelids, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple, and the soft sigh he lets out. You stroke him slowly, liking the way his breath picks up as his brows knit together before you take him in your mouth. It’s a tight fit but you do your best, spurred on by the way he tugs at your hair and stutters through a holy fuck as you take as much of him as you can.

Sunghoon goes silent, only squirming when you use your hand to stroke him near his base. Self-conscious about his lack of vocal affirmation, you look up at him through your lashes, and the pure bliss on his face is unbearably attractive. His eyes are rolled back under furrowed brows, his mouth hanging open as he throws his head back.

“Am I doing okay?” you ask, using the moment to catch your breath.

He nods, inhaling shakily and screwing his eyes shut while his hips buck up into your fist. “I’m.. You’re doing such a good job, baby, so good.”

Satisfaction courses through you from the praise, a high that dulls the ache in your jaw. Still watching him, you massage his balls in your palm, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his tip when he whines. You tongue at his slit until he thrusts back into your mouth, tip hitting your throat, and he gasps when you gag, his arm coming up to cover his eyes. A belated apology slips from his lips, mumbled as he strokes your hair with a shaking hand and goes quiet again. When you speed up, his breath stutters, the muscles in his thighs contracting around your head as you suck and lick and drool on his cock.

A moan of your name, and his hand holding your hand down, are the only warnings you get before Sunghoon comes, spilling his load right down your throat. Whining, his hips buck up against your face, pushing further and further until he falls back onto the mattress.

Your throat is hoarse and aches while you use the back of your hand to wipe at your lips, enjoying what’s left of his taste on your tongue. Deep red tints his neck and chest, a pretty flush gleaming under the sheen of sweat on his skin. He’s mesmerising, as he tries for air through swollen lips and looks up at you through squinted eyes. He reaches for you, cute grabby hands tugging your shirt and pulling you down so you’re lying next to him with your head on his chest.

“You’re amazing, baby, so good for me,” Sunghoon whispers, eyes fluttering shut as you drag your nails over his torso, feeling the subtle heave of the slick, sculpted muscle over his stomach and chest.

Pride heats your chest, satisfaction rolling over you like a wave. “Really?”

He hums in affirmation, nodding his head.

“You were so quiet, I couldn’t really tell,” you add, hungry for more praise.

“The walls are so thin in here, I just got used to being quiet,” Sunghoon says, frowning. Hand meeting your chin, he tips your head up towards him, pressing a soft kiss to your lips and mumbling, “I’m sorry. You were perfect, I swear.”

It’s a sweet kiss. Until lips move harder and hands get lower, desperate as he thumbs the top of your leggings, palm unmoving but a dangerous heat blooms in your stomach anyway.

“Can I..” Sunghoon pinches you softly through the material, unsure eyes boring deep into yours.

You nod. “You can.”

Slipping under your waistband, his fingers skate across your skin dipping between your thighs. He grazes your slit, satisfaction clear in the groan he lets out as he feels the wetness there, pulling it over the length of your slit to cover your clit. Your breath hitches, a strangled gasp, pleasure and surprise meeting in your throat under the pressure of his thumb on your clit, the gentle sting of his finger pushing into you.

What Sunghoon lacks in experience, he makes up for with the sheer length and thickness of his fingers. It’s almost jarring, it’s enough to force your eyes closed and bring a sigh rumbling out of you, ache and relief settling between your legs, where he curls a finger against your walls and drags slow circles over your clit.

“Can you take these off, baby?” he asks, hand away to touch your leggings.

You don’t waste a second, sitting up to pull them off, throwing them and your underwear across the room. Sunghoon licks his lips, tugging at the hem of your shirt.

“And this? If you want..”

You nod, pulling it off immediately to let it join the rest of your clothes in a heap on the floor. The way he gulps is a confidence boost, his dilated pupils taking in every inch of your body, though his gaze always pulls back to your bra—white and lacy, thin enough for your nipples to push through the fabric and Sunghoon can’t seem to get enough, though he waits until you’re lying down again to touch you.

Sunghoon props himself up on his elbow, leaning over you. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, dragging a finger over the lace at the top of your bra, toying with the material and the little bow sitting between your breasts. His eyes flick up to meet yours. “So beautiful,” he repeats.

Hiding your face in his chest, you mumble, “Thank you,” into his skin while trying to ignore the heat spreading over your body wherever he touches you. His hand trails from your arm to your waist, resting on your hips to slip over your ass for a beat, where he grabs and squeezes the flesh there before coming back around to slot between your legs—you lift one of them, resting it over his body, and he’s smiling sweetly when you look up at him.

Sunghoon’s movements are unchanging, though the sensation is heightened by the unbridled desire in his lidded eyes that urges white heat to lick over every inch of your skin—this time he pushes two fingers into you.

It doesn’t get better than this, you think. But it does, quickly.

Leaning over you, his eyes flick across your face, one feature at a time as he chews on his lip. Reaching up, you push some of his hair from his face, holding it back and saying, “Relax, baby.”

“Don’t want to hurt you.”

Moving your hand, you blink when his hair flops back over his forehead, tickling your eyelashes. His eyes are focused now, staring straight down into yours, want and worry flashing behind them.

“You won’t, I promise,” you say, locking your pinky with his, feeling relieved when he smiles.

Sunghoon pushes in slowly, his name slipping from your lips when he exhales shakily, head falling forward. The sting, the pleasure, make it hard to breathe, molten desire taking hold of your lungs as he carves out a place for himself as far as you’ll take him, all the way to the hilt as slow as he can manage.

A moan tears out of him, lewd and whiny as his hair tickles your collarbone, head falling into the crook of your neck. His skin is hot and damp against yours, his breath burning your shoulder as he tries to calm down. It’s difficult to register much else, tethered only by the sound of his voice when he asks, “Am I hurting you?”

“Hoon,” you whisper.

“Can you look at me, baby?” He lifts his head, resting a hand on your cheek. You blink your eyes open, gaze locking with his, where concern pushes through his desire. “Am I hurting you?” he asks again. “Are you okay?”

You nod. “I’m okay, just..” You sigh. “Full. Need a minute.”

Sunghoon kisses you, lips moving gently with yours, passing breathy whines between your mouths until you feel yourself relaxing. Pulling his plush bottom lip between yours, you suck on it, nodding. “Want you to move, baby,” you mumble.

He scans your face, eyes meeting yours as he pulls his hips back. He’s slow, so slow with his thrusts that your belly turns with want, your fingernails sink into the taut skin of his back, and jagged sobs fall out of you with each drag of his cock along your walls.

Everywhere his skin touches yours is set ablaze with scorching heat, goosebumps pushing past the surface as his breath fans your neck and his sharp teeth graze your skin. He bites hard enough to sting, and you wince as his tongue flicks over your bitten flesh to soothe you.

You were so worked up earlier, writhing against the sheets and coming undone in his palm, so bliss quickly pushes through the ache between your legs. “Good, Hoon, feels so good,” you manage, struggling to convey how perfect it is.

“Just want to make you feel good.” His words melt into each other, vowels soft and elongated as they curl around each other. He’s working up a steady rhythm, his tip consistently nudging you where you need it—the spot that makes the room blur around you. “That’s all I want.”

Before long, the knot in your stomach pulls you up from the mattress, arching your back towards the ceiling. Mouth to mouth, chest to chest—it’s the closest you’ve ever felt to someone else, the closest you’ve ever been. The thought alone knocks the wind out of you, and his persistent whining does nothing to help.

Your want and adoration for Sunghoon run bone-deep, inching up your spine and creeping over your shoulders, intertwined with an all-consuming pleasure that turns the heat in your stomach molten as a shudder zips through you. Even though you can’t find the words to let him know, he lifts your hips from the bed to fuck you deeper, harder, into the mattress until shaky orgasms pull both of you under.

You let him fall into you, fingers curling around his hair, whispering I love you into the skin of his neck as he comes, most of his weight on top of you while you catch your breath, relishing in the fullness you feel as the last waves of your high pull back. You stay like this for as long as he needs, his head coming up from the crook of your neck to smile at you before pressing his lips to yours. A sleepy haze fills the room around you, tongue swiping tongue as you giggle happily into his mouth.

After a while, he gets up, tying the condom to throw it away and comes back with his shirt. He uses it to clean up—gentle between your legs, pressing kisses to your calves while he does. Sunghoon’s tenderness wraps around your heart, and love clouds your vision, forming a blurry trail that follows all of his movements, glowing like something from a dream, ethereal, an apparition.

The bed dips beside you, his arms around you, pulling you in so his chin rests on your head. You push your cheek into his chest, hoping the two of you will meld into one—the thought makes you warm all over, a fuzziness that reaches every part of your body while he presses kisses into your hair, rubbing your back.

“I love you,” he says, voice as soft as the rest of him. “I’m glad I exist.”

mama park: Hi lovely 😍 missing you lots, wondering when you’ll be home for Xmas………..love ma

Sunghoon stirs, nose scrunching as he snores softly into the quiet of a winter morning. His chest rises and falls steadily under your head and he doesn’t move when you sit up. The lamp on his desk is still on — neither of you could be bothered getting up to turn it off last night — and under its dim glow, you admire him. Perfect lips gently curved—long lashes kissing the skin under his eyes.

Love hits you from all angles, warmth all over from head to toe despite the chill in Sunghoon’s room. You can’t help but grin, leaning up to nose along the underside of his chin, his natural scent so soft yet dizzying as you nuzzle into him. He stirs again, turning his head this way and that before resting, you feel a bit bad, deciding to leave him be and text his mum back.

you: hi mum !!! missing you sooooooo much :((( will be home asap

mama park: BTW Sunghoon told me everything. I raised such good actors LOL make sure he looks after you and keeps you happy!

you: i’m so sorry we lied to you..

you: but i’m really happy with him and he loves me a lot

you: i love him so much .. never been so sure of anyone in my life

permanent taglist: @asahicore

#sunghoon smut #enhypen smut #enha smut #enhypen scenarios #sunghoon scenarios #sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon smut #park sunghoon x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen oneshots #sunghoon oneshots #sunghoon imagines #enhypen hard hours #fic.sunghoon

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princessofmarvel · 8 months

Text

Business and dates

summary | when grace leaves, it leaves the shelbys with a heartbroken thomas. polly takes this as an opportunity to get him with the girl she's always wanted him with

pairing | thomas shelby x fem!reader

word count | 2.30k

genre | fluff! with just a tad of angst!

requested? | yes! thank you so much for your request! i had so much writing it, and i am kind of proud of this one, lol.

warnings! | mentions of bullying, and the reader not eating from being worried! and, i have not proof read this yet!

author’s note! | Hi! Thank you all for being so patient as I worked on this! Requests are open for drabbles, and headcanons only at the moment for these characters! And as always, I do I have really bad OCD that causes me to write in some random capitalization, and punctuation, But I think that we don't have to worry about that in this fic lol. And let me know if there are any mistakes, but please be kind!

No one knew what had happened that day. All anyone knew was that Grace was suddenly gone, and that she had left the Shelby family with a heartbroken Thomas. And the person left to pick up the pieces was his lifelong best friend, who has been in love with Thomas since the day they met back when they were just small kids.

Thomas was having a decent day, school had just let out and he was walking back home (alone because his older brother Aurther thought that it would be funny to run off before Thomas got out of class) when he saw a young girl getting picked on.

“Stop it! This is my favorite skirt!” Thomas heard her yell to the kids that had her on the ground, kicking dirt onto her clothes while laughing and taunting her. Thomas knew that these kids were practically afraid of him, so he knew he could get them to leave the girl alone. He also knew that his mother would scold him if she found out that he didn’t do anything to help her.

“Oi! Leave her alone, or I'll put a curse on you!” Thomas called out as he made his way up to the group, and pulled a razor blade out of his pocket. The kids practically scattered the moment they heard Thomas’ voice. Leaving just him, and the girl with dirt on her clothes.

“Thank you” He heard the girl say in a quiet voice as he put his hand out to help her back up.

“What caused that?” He asked, curious as to what the girl could have done to anger the other kids so much.

“I-I told them that I wouldn’t do their homework.” She said back to him, as she tried to get the dirt off of her skirt. Thomas told himself that he should have known it was something like that. There wasn’t anything serious that this girl could have done to upset them so much.

“Come on, I’ll walk you home, you live on Watery lane, right?” He said as he started walking, with the girl running a bit to catch up with him. He knew her name, he recognized her from school. She lived right across from him, but they never said anything to each other. She had been over to play with Ada sometimes, but they never spoke.

Neither one of them said anything as they walked, it wasn’t until they got to her home that Thomas spoke up.

“They shouldn’t bother you again, no one should.” He said as he stood outside her doorstep, seeming almost sorry since he knew his reputation, and how kids would stay away from him in fear of getting cursed.

“It’s alright, I don’t really have any friends anyways.” The small girl said, while rocking back and forth on her heels.

“Why don’t you come play at my house? I know my family won’t mind.” He said to her with a small smile. Truth be told, Thomas didn’t really have many friends either, and he saw an opportunity to make one.

Ever since then, the two were inseparable. They did everything together, they were even each other's first kiss. Her family was weary at first, but soon saw how protective the Shelby boys (and the rest of the Shelby family) were over her, and grew to like them. The two were like this up until Thomas was called to war

“Tommy, this has to be a mistake.” The girl cried into Thomas’ shoulder as he held her. “All three of you at the same time? What kind of cruel joke is this”

“The universe has a funny way of doing things.” He mumbled into her hair, his hand resting on the back of her head. “I’ll come back, sweetheart.”

“You don’t know that, Tommy” The girl said as she pulled her head out of his shoulder, and looked up at him, eyes red and puffy.

“You really think I'm leaving you yet? You think I'm going to leave you before you get married? Please, your future husband doesn’t get off that easily.” He said with a small laugh while trying to lighten the mood as he held her face with his hand. “Nothings taking me from you, not yet.”

“You better come back, Shelby.” She said as she looked up at him with glossy eyes. “Or, I’ll bring you back just to kill you myself.”

Thomas laughed and kissed her head, as the air in the room changed. He didn’t know why, but he leaned down and kissed her lips softly, all he knew was that he couldn’t leave without giving her a kiss, even just a light one. “You’ve got nothing to worry about” He said as he pulled away.

She believed him, she tried not to worry. She didn’t worry until his letters stopped coming. After a month of not hearing from him she worried so much she got sick. She wrote him everyday, sent him a letter at least once a week, if not twice. No word of his death ever came.

The day Thomas arrived home, she was sitting at the kitchen table with Polly. His heart broke when he saw her, she was paler, and her face was skinny, all signs to her not eating properly. Neither one of them said a word to each other for a week. It wasn’t until (Y/n) decided that she had enough, and stormed into his room.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” she shouted, growing red in the face.

“What are you talking about?” He asked, not meeting her eyes, already knowing what she was talking about,

“You! You come back, and are completely different! You’re cold, and mean to everyone, which maybe you were that way to some people before, but never to me! Never to your family!” As she yelled at him, she started to sway as if she was about to faint. Before she could hit the floor, Thomas grabbed her and set her down on the bed beside him.

“You need to eat something.” He mumbled, not looking at her which infuriated her more.

“I thought you were dead.” This caught his attention as he heard her start to cry. He finally turned to her. “You stopped writing.”

“I didn’t know how to write to you, you would ask me how I was, and I couldn’t find it in myself to tell you about how I had just watched a man die. I thought it better to not write.” He said, pulling her into his chest. “Why are you not eating?”

“You worried me, anything I ate just came back up.” She mumbled into his chest.

“I told you not to worry.” He said with a small laugh coming from his chest, the first in a long time.

“Tough shit, Shelby.” She mumbled back, while pulling her head out of his chest.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, just staring at the other, until Thomas finally spoke up. “I’m trying to get back to normal.” He mumbled, barely loud enough for her to hear, she wouldn’t have if they hadn’t been so close.

“I know, it will just take some time.” She said while she caressed his cheek. “And, I’ll be here to help you heal.”

After that day, nothing ever really went back to how it was before the war. But it was like that for everyone. Thomas had gone back to normal as much as he could. He had his moments, but everyone did. And, (Y/n) didn’t lie, she was there every step of the way, even in the bad times she never left.

The two never fought again until the day Grace left. She had tried telling Thomas before that something was up with her, but he just wouldn’t listen. The only other person that seemed to notice it was Polly.

“He’ll never go for it.” John pipped into the conversation. Polly was currently trying to figure out a way to cheer Thomas up, and the idea she had was to put Thomas with (Y/n). She already considered the girl a daughter, and she always wanted her with Thomas. To her, it was the perfect plan.

“That's why we don’t tell him! All we tell him is that he has a business meeting at the new restaurant, he’ll show up, expecting some business man to be there, but instead (Y/n) will come in wearing the most beautiful thing I can find, that he’ll just have to stay.” Polly explained to the boys and Ada.

“Alright, but how are you going to get (Y/n) there, dressed up, without suspecting anything?” Ada chimed in.

“We’ll tell her a boy stopped by and asked to take her out.” Polly said, as if it was obvious.

“Please, she’s not going to just agree to go out with someone, especially if she doesn’t even know who it is.” Arthur muttered.

"Actually she might.” John announced to everyone. “Just to make Thomas jealous, she mentioned it back when Grace was around.”

The Shelby’s set everything into motion that night. Polly told Thomas he had a meeting, then she told (Y/n) about the secret man that wanted to take her out.

So Thomas sat in his suit, waiting for this man to show, when he saw (Y/n) walk through the door, dressed like a vision in her red, drop waist, beaded dress, with an old pearl necklace to match. She looked around the room, until her eyes landed on Thomas.

“What are you doing here?” She asked him, as she walked up to his table.

“Business meeting, what are you doing here?” He asked, suddenly growing jealous at the thought of her being here for another man.

“A date, and what business meeting? I know your schedule, there wasn’t one planned, did you make one?” She asked, wondering who on earth Thomas could be meeting for business at this hour.

“No, Polly told me I had one, who’s the date?” He asked, his jealousy rising.

“Not sure, Polly told me-” A look of realization crossed both their faces “Polly” The two said in unison.

She decided to sit down, now laughing to herself. “You’re the date.”

“You’re the business.” Thomas responded, a small smile growing to his face.

The two sat there for a minute, before Thomas spoke up. “You do look stunning.”

“Polly picked it.” She said, with a small laugh.

“I bet she did.” Thomas said with a laugh, and a sigh. “She’s wanted us together for ages.” He mumbled.

“And what do you want?” The girl asked. Thomas had always had a feeling that (Y/n) liked him, he was just never sure how much, until he looked up and met her eyes that were filled with nothing but love and want.

“You in my life.” He said, keeping his eyes on her. “I thought a relationship between us would mess everything up. I couldn’t risk losing you.”

“Thomas.” The girl said, grabbing his hand across the table. “You could never lose me, even if we did have a relationship and it failed, I would still love you. But, I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this.”

“I have distracted myself from you for as long as I can remember. I wouldn’t let myself fall for you.” Thomas said, standing up from the table, (Y/n) following.

“It’s okay to fall, Thomas, who knows, maybe it won’t hurt.” She said, as she placed a hand to his face. Without thinking, Thomas leaned in and kissed her with everything in him, causing her to hit the table, his hands on the side of her face being the only thing to keep them from falling. The pair kissed until they needed air. When they pulled away, he rested his forehead on hers.

“Let’s give this a try.” He whispered, looking into her eyes.

The girl smiled and gave Thomas a quick peck, before they left the restaurant, her holding his arm. The walk back to the Shelby home was mostly quiet, until she spoke up. “Thank god for Polly.”

#thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby #tommy shelby imagine #cillian murphy #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby fic #tommy shleby fic #thomas shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fanfic #thomas shelby fluff #tommy shelby fluff #thomas shelby angst #tommy shelby angst #thomas shelby peaky blinders #tommy shelby peaky blinders #peaky blinders

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ambrosiagoldfish · 2 months

Note

Can you write more Adam fics plz there so freaking good

Benefit of the Doubt PT.2

Adam x 3rd Spouse! Reader

Viewer discretion is advised

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff to Angst to comfort, General Adam TW’s, Reader lowkey-highkey has a complex about being loved, Panic attack (I’m not even sure if this is correct term or not), Adam is afraid of heights (makes sense in story) This is set way before the show, and Gn! Reader (Y/n is once again not used lol)

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

Request Box: Open

Word count: 3136

A/N: Hi! I’d like to Thank you all for the love and support on Part 1! It means a lot that you all enjoyed it as I loved writing it! I’d also like to apologize for this being a week late, I honestly had 0 idea on how to start this one and then a bunch of stuff in my life happened, so it was a mess.

So as an apology I tried to make this one longer than the first! (I seemed to go a little overboard but it’s fine)

Anyways I hope you all enjoy part 2 to ‘Benefit of the doubt’ and as always, if you do, please tell me if want another part in replies/requests/DM’s!

Proofread but of course could have missed something

Tags: @tired-of-life-86

To think love could feel this good.

You were made for it, to give it, receive it… You’ve waited your entire existence for this love, This closeness. It doesn’t even feel real now, even as you’re walking down the golden lined streets of heaven with his arm wrapped around you, all while you’ve been showing him around. The best places to eat, entertainment, or just a nice park. You made sure to show him all of it.

He kept his wings tucked to his sides, the gold contrasting with the white of his robe. The feathers at first glance looked sharp, but now, being so close to him, you could see each of them individually and how soft they must be.

“Hey Sweetcheeks, my eyes are up here”

You jump slightly “Sorry… Adam.” You avert your eyes away from him and focus them in front of you.

Adam laughed “I didn’t say you had to fuxkin’ to stop”

His wings truly were beautiful. It was hard to keep your eyes off them. Adam had only got to heaven recently, it made you wonder if he had the chance to use them yet. You remember when you were first created, wings took forever to get used to. You crashed and fell so many times before you figured out how to use them

Properly.

“Ok seriously, you keep staring, what the fxck is up with you?”

“It’s nothing, just…. Have you tried out your wings yet?”

“Uh, yeah totally, they’re rad as hell” Adam’s voice drifted off, the LED eyes of his mask looking away from you as you both walked. Was he… lying? Why would he lie?

You quickly walked in front of Adam, leaving his warm embrace, gently you took his hands as your wings picked you off the ground. The gust of wind with each flap softly blew around you.

“Well, come on, it will be faster than walking.” Your voice was soft and airy. Slowly, so very slowly, you lifted yourself higher from the ground, Adam’s hands locked firmly in yours, as he was pulled with you in the air.

“W-Wait a- shit- Wait a- motherfuxking second“ Adam yelled strand after strand of curses as you both lifted further and further into the air. His body flailed and his legs kicked against nothing. You pull him to you, his arms quickly snake around your waist, holding on for his dear After-life.

“Adam… did you lie to me?” Your voice was still so soft, so calm, so sweet.

“Fuck- yes I lied, I’m sorry, so put me the fuck down you crazy asshole-“ Vulgar as ever, his voice had fear in it, the LED eyes were forced shut and his grip around you was getting tighter and tighter.

Your arms wrapped around Adam’s head as you laid back, letting The wind breeze from the air pull and push you along its path with your wings soaring through the clouds..

“Adam, it’s ok, I promise you’re fine, all you have to do is open your eyes.”

You pet the back of his neck trying to sooth him which seemed to work after a few seconds. Adam didn’t want to, he really didn’t want to open his eyes. But the longer he kept them close, the more you would whisper soft words of encouragement to him. Eventually, his eyes slowly but surely opened.

“See? There is nothing to be scared of. I’ve got you.”

You hold him closer in your embrace. Adam looked below, the white vastness of heaven’s clouds beneath you both felt unreal, but as amazing a sight it was, Adam’s grip on you didn’t loosen.

“So… I’m guessing you don’t know how to fly yet?” You laugh a little, rubbing a spot on his back, just between his wings comfortingly.

Adam huffed and looked away “oh! I couldn’t fxcking see that!”

You held him close to you. The embrace seemed never ending, and you loved every second of it. Feeling the warmth of his plump body next to you was like a dream come true.

“Here let me just…”

You moved your hands slowly down his arms, caressing the soft flesh as they moved to eventually be at his hands behind you. You began to leisurely undo the grip he had around you.

“What do you think you're doing-“

“Shhh, relax, just trust me, ok?”

With each finger being removed from you, the grip lessened bit by bit, until eventually his hands were fully in yours. Your face leaned closer to his,

“Come on, just give your wings a good flap, trust me.”

“Ugh…. Fine but I swear to god if you let go-“

“I won’t.” Your voice was firm, yet still remained reassuring.

Adam didn’t want to do this. He really didn’t want to. But what other choice did he have? He gruffs and extends his wings from his body. The wind brushed and tickled at his feathers. The way the light hit them caused a glare of gold to be cast from them, enveloping you both. Then, he gave two hard flaps of his wings, he lifted up slightly before quickly falling back to where he was.

“There you go! Now keep doing that.”

Adam continued, his wings slowly pushing him up and up before being sent back down when he stopped. This repeated for a few minutes until he finally got a grip on it. The entire time, you were laughing. Pure unadulterated laughs of joy.

Truly, to think love could feel this good?

“See? You're a natural!”

“Of course I am! I’m the Original Dick, obviously I’d… be good at this… flying… shit.” With all the parading he was doing he kept forgetting to use his wings causing him to fall. ‘A natural’ may have been an overstatement on your part, but hey? At least he hasn’t fallen flat on his face yet!

Gently, you led him through air, giving him reassurance every few feet you flew, never letting go. Seconds turned to minutes, minutes to hours. Before you knew it a brisk orange sunset encased you both with its hue. That’s when you realized just how long you both had been flying.

“You must be tired with sightseeing all day… I think it’s time we go home and rest, yeah?”

“Home?” Adam’s voice sounded for a moment genuinely confused. Had he not been told he’d have a place to live in heaven? As much respect you had for Sera, you’ll have to file a complaint to avoid this with future souls.

You gripped his hand and opened your wings letting the wind lead you through the clouds and above the city. The angels below look like ants at the height you both were. It was peaceful, the flight back home. But it did seem… off? So… quiet? You couldn’t put it together, at least not at the moment, But Adam hadn’t spoken a word since you both left.

Adam, while yes, he was initially confused, it made sense to him, why wouldn’t heaven have a place for its people, a place for each of them to relax, to feel safe, happy, at home.

Home was such a weird word for Adam. Has he ever felt like a place was his ‘home’? The closest thing to it was the Garden of Eden but even that proved to be anything but a home for him. Ever since that snake entered his garden.

No. He can’t think about that now. He doesn’t want to have to think about that again. But oh-do thoughts love to worm their way back into your mind when you least want them to. He’s snaps out of his thoughts when your voice picks up

“Ok, we’re here! Just get yourself settled in and I’ll go make us something to eat. I didn't really know what food you’d like so I mainly just have junk food… I hope that's ok.”

Adam nods his head nonchalantly

You smile, waking him over to the small, plush couch in the living room and handing him a blanket and some pillows. Telling him to wait a second as you fetch some food, leaving him alone.

Adam thought your house seemed welcoming enough, ‘well… our house’ Adam thought. The living room was dark aside from a few luminous lights around the room as well as the small blue gleam from the windows from the night sky.

The couch was comfortable and the pillows just as much. And the blanket you gave him was soft and warm. This really was heaven, huh?

His thoughts are, once again, interrupted by your voice, “Ok here we go, I’ve got snacks and some soda” you say, handing him some of the many food you ravaged from your fridge and sitting beside him, wrapping yourself in the shared blanket.

Grabbing the remote lying next to you, you flick on the TV flipping through the channel before ending on a cheesy sitcom, you keep the volume low wanting to enjoy any conversation with Adam. Except… he never started one. So that’s what felt off.

The entire time you flew back home, got snacks and found something to watch. He hadn't said a word. You may not have known him long but even you had already picked up that he was an advid talker in a conversation.

“Is… everything ok Adam?” You whispered, not want to scare him with your random words.

“What kind of question is that, I’m fxcking fine… I’m fine.” His voice trailed off at the end almost getting as quiet as yours.

“Are you sure cause-“

“I said I’m fuxking fine!” His voice roared through the dark room. Gritty and callous, but you could tell it was meant to hide something. Something he didn’t want you to see.

“I’m sorry…” you paused. What did you want to say from here? What could you say? You took a deep breath and tried to continue. “I… I know I said this earlier… when Sera left.”

Adam’s LED mask looked away from you half shut eyes and a frown forming a scowl on it, but still he let you continue.

“But I’m going to say it again anyways cause… I mean it. I’m really happy to have you here. To finally have you home” you place your arm around Adam’s back rubbing it soothingly as let your head slowly lax onto him, gently cuddling close to him.

That word again… home. That’s all he could think about ever since he first heard you say it. Why? Why couldn’t he get it out of his head? His breathing was becoming unsteady with each new thought and image his brain made. Lilith and Eve, they were made to be apart of his home, for him to be apart of their homes. So why? Why did it end that way?

Suddenly Adam leap from the couch as fast as he could, the shear force knocking you to the other side of the couch, sending the food to scatter and drinks to spill to the floor.

“Adam!?” Your voice was frightened at the sudden movement. Adam looked just as frightened as you, at least from what you could tell through the LED mask. He suddenly began running, where? he didn’t know, the rooms in the house looked the same. But all he knew is that he needed to be away from you. You followed quickly behind him and pleaded for him to tell you what was wrong, but eventually he ran into a room and locked the door.

He looked around, already out of breath. He was in a bathroom. He felt his knees give out under him as he tried to slowly sit down by the tub. His breath heavy, it was hard to breathe, this stupid mask. He needed it off. But just as he went to do so,

*rattle rattle rattle*

The doorknob began to move followed by frantic knocking on the door.

“Adam! Are you ok?!” Your voice pleaded through the wood of the door.

“Fuxk- I'm fine! How many times do I have to tell you that shit” his voice cracked a few times followed by a strand of curses leaving his lips.

Home. The word repeated like a mantra in his head. Like it was mocking him. Was he not meant to have a place he called a home? To have someone to return to, who would tell him “welcome back!” Without even being told to?

Lilith hated him, Eve betrayed and hurt him like no one else before, ever. They were made to be with him, one was literally made to be his other half. The garden, his home, was taken from him because of something, someone he couldn’t control. it all comes back to him. That albino snake in the grass.

Lucifer, ‘The dreamer’… was this some sort of game to him? To toy with his emotions, treat him like some kind of plaything to mess with, to screw over? What kind of life was it? To have every opportunity and opening be broken down by him, And Adam being powerless to stop it?

“Adam! Please open the door!” Your voice was even more frantic now, knocking every few seconds before it quickly quieted down. Your body slumped against the door.

“Adam… I’m sorry if I hurt you or… or if I was going too fast… I didn't mean to… I’m so sorry…” your breath hitched with tears.

And then there was you.

You have been nothing but kind to him since you met him. You showed him around heaven, taught him how to fly and welcomed him home without having being told to. You were so different. So, so very different. Adam figure that out a while ago now. But in reality, it’s exactly why he was terrified.

To have someone who loves him so... unconditionally.

*click*

The sound of the door unlocking drew your attention and was followed by it slowly opening from Adam on the other side, still on the floor.

“Adam!” Your voice was low, already tired from crying. You crawled your way toward him before stopping in front of him, tears still falling from your face, “I’m sorry Adam, I’m sorry-“ you were cut off by a quick movement.

Warmth enveloped you, clouding your senses as a soft weight laid onto you. Arms wrapped their way around you in an embrace.

“Shit- it's not your fault, it was never your fault…” Adam’s voice was surprisingly soft, a stark contrast to his regular tone. Sincerity evident with each word. All you could do was hide into his large frame and cry at the words.

Adam was never good at comforting people. He himself was never comforted, so the concept was more than a bit foreign to him. But even still, he tried. Slowly he helped you both up from the bathroom floor and made your way back to the couch.

The floor was covered in the discarded food you both left behind. The spilled soda is now dried and sticky. Crumbs everywhere.

“Here.. let me get a mop and broom-“

“No just sit down, I’ll clean up the shit I made” you lay down on the couch and watched as Adam swept and mopped the mess from the floor. The entire time the silence hung in the air by a thread. Neither of you wanting to be the one to snap the string and speak.

Finally Adam got done cleaning the mess and made his way to the couch. He sat down and gestured for you to come closer. Crawling over to him, he wrapped the blanket around you both allowing you to snuggle into him.

“Do…” your voice barely audible “Do you want to talk about it?”

Adam looked hesitant but nodded.

“You know about everything, right? About… what all happened in Eden?

You nod against his chest content on listening.

“When… When Lilith left me, I thought I didn't care as much as I did. I thought she was a bitch and that was that. And it didn’t help that as soon as she left, I got Eve…”

He paused

“Then, when I found out about that shit between Eve and Lucifer… I didn’t care then either, but I didn’t understand why…” his voice hitched “but when I ate that damn apple… I realized how hurt I should have been. All the concepts of right and wrong, good and evil, learning all of it through that fruit, I realized one shitty truth… that the one I loved betrayed me.”

You hugged him tighter softly, your hands caressed his stomach as some form of comfort before he continued.

“For the same person- Both of them for that snake…”

“Adam… I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

“And that’s why… I’m scared. Scared that I will fuxk up again and get… attached to you. Because every. single. time. He ruins it. And I don't want to see that happen with you.”

Your heart ached for him, the saddening look of his LED mask as he talked only furthered your emotions. Slowly your hands made their way to his face, he looks at you confused, your fingertips crept under the mask before his hand shot up and held your wrist slightly, carefully not holding it too tight.

“Sorry fuck- I’m.. I’m not ready.”

You smile and nod understanding “Adam. I love you… with all of my heart. And I would never do what those two done to you. “

Adam thought for a moment deciding what to say.

“Promise?” was all he could think of, his voice, mind, and body were all too tired to speak more about it.

You slowly remove your hands from his mask, instead taking one of his hands into yours.

“I promise, I would never betray you, let alone talk to that man” ever-so lightly, a soft golden glow burned between yours and Adam’s hands, the gold flame was warm and comforting to both of you as it rose and grew in strength.

From the flame, a string wrapped and warped itself around both yours and Adam’s pinky fingers. The string tightened and loosened as it moved, before finally melting away leaving only two solid gold rings behind, One on Adam’s finger and the other on yours.

“What the hell was that?” Adam’s voice was filled with bewilderment

“A deal- or I guess a promise. In this case”

“Shit, You didn’t have to do that-“ this time it was your turn to interrupt him. You bring Adam’s hand to your lips, and give a kiss on his newly formed ring before lying down and cuddling into Adam.

“I know.”

For once in his life, Adam felt at ease with love. How easy it was to fall for you.

Is this what home feels like?

1K notes · View notes

personasintro · 2 months

Text

Romance Is Not Dead | jjk

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; it’s valentine's day and you're single

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: brother's best friend!jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, angst (?)

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, mentions of sex (it's mentioned quite a lot), reader's brother is kinda dick, alcohol usage, men (that deserves a warning alright), drunk people (it's a party), angst (?) honestly I'm not sure if there's any angst but it's a story with a few realistic topics that are kinda sad if you think about it, it's not your average fluff story lol

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.7k+

a/n: happy valentine's day! mind you this was supposed to be a short drabble like around 2k lol, I had no proper idea of where this will go and somehow I ended up with quite a long story haha. but I'm happy I got more into writing, I wasn't expecting writing this much. if there are any mistakes, please ignore them hehe. I rushed to post it so I could make it on february 14th. I don't know what even is this story but i hope you enjoy it hahah don't forget to like and reblog ♡

“Argh! Who even invented Valentine's Day?”

The groan that leaves your mouth – or more like a loud complaint – rolls around the room, not stopping you from tossing your bag on the kitchen's table to show your annoyance more than actual anger.

“Hello to you too, sis.” Your brother throws a peace sign your way, not particularly fazed by the lack of greeting on your side.

From your peripheral vision you could easily tell they're right there. Your brother and his best friend have been best friends since high school, they go way back and somehow, they've managed to stay super close till now. It's quite admirable, you have to admit. You don't think you've ever seen or heard them fight. Overall, their friendship seems to be more relaxed in this sense than most girls' friendships.

Yes, that mostly happens between guys. They're not as dramatic or bitchy as some girls can be. God. None of your current friends are your friends from high school. You've parted ways eventually.

However, the amount of drama free that's clearly not present in their precious brotherhood is equalized with loud burps, unfiltered talks about girls and sex through male eyes. You would've mentioned farting but luckily, you haven't heard your brother's best friend to be that nasty in front of you. Which can't be said about your brother but well, that's a part of having a sibling – regardless of their gender.

It's quite cliché.

Your brother's older, therefore he's protective yet loves to embarrass you at any chance. He thinks he's all that and sometimes, it feels like he thinks he's your third parent. That's what's more annoying – perhaps even more than overrated Valentine's Day.

“Did someone decline you on Valentine's Day?”

There he goes again.

Teasing you. It's a never-ending circle. Luckily, you've grown resistant to his pathetic attempts to embarrass you – especially when his friends are present. Yeah, your brother can be a dick and you're not afraid to tell him.

Though, you don't stick to the names and curses and instead turn it into something more powerful.

Scoffing, you swipe your hair back and give him a look. “Please, look at me.”

“I am, that's why I asked.”

You waste no time in grabbing one of the stupid empty cans he always has laying around and throw it at him. Did you mention he can be a pig sometimes?

Your aim has gotten way better throughout the years and when he curses at you once it hits the side of his head, you smile happily. His friend chuckles at the two of you, lifting the can that has fallen onto the floor and sets it on the table.

“Yeah, and that's why you chase every man that comes my way.” you comment, knowing well damn you're right.

He frowns, “Those men can hardly be called men, sis.”

“Well, bro, I wouldn't know since you like to be the pain in my ass.” you smile at him tightly, seeing him looking before he goes back to playing one of his stupid video games. “Not that I have a man to look up to in the first place.”

They've been doing that a lot. Lame.

His best friend's snort turns into a laughter that he barely gets to hold in. That makes you smile because you see it as a success in getting back at your brother. And perhaps your little crush you've had on him has something to do with it. But we don't talk about it.

Your brother glares at him but he's not affected, not even a bit. It's hard to put it into words or make any definition, but he's always been slightly more… intimidating? He has an aura around him that makes you appreciate even a little reaction from him.

It's humorous. You've known him for years, merrily just from always seeing him next to your brother (because there were never other opportunities), yet it feels like you barely know anything about him. Even though he used to occupy your living room almost every day. And today doesn't feel much different. The only difference is that none of you live at your parents' house.

“Who hurt you today?”

“Don't be a dick. I can be a bitch too.” you remind him sweetly, leaning forward against the kitchen counter and grab a grape that lays in a single bowl. Probably the only healthy thing he has in this kitchen.

He flips you off and frowns once he doesn't win the game. Karma. “Anyway, are you gonna tell us why you came here so annoyed or you're gonna eat?”

“I can do both,” you shrug. “I just don't get the hype about Valentine's Day.”

“Oh, you asked who invented it? Probably a pair of groupies in love.”

You roll your eyes, “I don't think that's it.”

“It's about romance. It's romantic, sis.”

You snort, “And how would you know anything about romance?”

He chuckles cockily as if the next words he says is something to be proud about; “I don't. But the girl I fucked said something about it.”

“Ew!” you gag, stopping yourself from reaching for another grape. “You're gross sometimes.”

“You don't talk about sex with your friends? C'mon, it's normal.”

“Yeah, with my friends. Not in front of you.” you justify.

“Jesus, we didn't have to hear that.” Your brother scolds you, clearly uncomfortable at the thought of you talking about sex.

You sometimes make sex jokes in front of him just to mess with him. It's pretty funny and it never gets old. You don't do it often though, but perhaps you should.

“I hear only you complaining.” you sign out, pointing out the obvious and for the first time since you've arrived, you give proper attention to his best friend.

He's been awfully quiet. What's there for him to say anyway? You and your brother bicker most of the time, no matter how old you are. He's pretty much used to it by now. He just stuck to playing the game and other than cackling at your previous comment, he's been quiet. You hate that you're slightly annoyed by the lack of attention he gives you. Not that you're an attention seeker or desperate for his attention.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out he sees you as his best friend's little sister. Even though you're not as little as when he first met you.

“JK is the last person who wants to hear your complaints.”

“Why don't you let JK speak for himself?” you question, a little edge to your tone as your brother huffs out, muttering something under his breath – obviously aimed at you.

“Chill out, you two.” he mutters, voice slightly deeper than you remember it even though the last time you've seen him was last month. It has a little rasp to it and you wish your eyes wouldn't glue to him automatically.

He lays comfortably on the couch, man spreading with a game controller sitting in his lap while his big thumbs rest comfortably against the buttons. You might've mentioned you are not friends with people from a high school anymore, but you have friends. One who would kill for a moment to spend with your brother's best friend. Just to be in his close proximity.

Though, it's no secret he's not any better than most guys his age – including your own brother. In a weird way, you love your brother (even though you wouldn't probably ever say it out loud because he's a weirdo and he would just make fun of you), but you can easily tell he's not someone you would ever want to end up with. Personality and morally wise, of course.

He surrounds himself with people with the same values, or the lack of.

And perhaps, it's one of the reasons why you suddenly got annoyed because of today's day. February 14th. You're the type that simply brushes off any guy who comes your way that you don't have any interest in. There's no need for your brother. He's a dick and he chases the ones that might not be husband material, but they're hot and charming. You're not necessarily looking for a marriage. God. You're too young. You don't want to be the one that gets locked in a marriage with someone they just met.

Definitely you don't want to get knocked up either. Fuck, they're so many scenarios that run inside your head. Ones you don't want to live in.

Regardless of your current stance when it comes to your life and relationships, you're still romantic. All of your friends have dates today. Any other day or year, you wouldn't even think of it – but you've seen everything in the shape of a heart today. Not mentioning there's everyone kissing and hugging at every corner of the street.

And you didn't get a discount on your cake because you were alone with no partner around. Who does that? That's discrimination!

Valentine's Day is overrated. Maybe you think that way because you're single. Have been for too long. And while you don't necessarily miss it, you kind of crave for someone's affection and touch. It's not even about sex.

“Listen, we're having a party tonight. I wouldn't normally invite you–”

“Wow, thanks.”

He shoots you a glare again before he continues, “But seeing you so miserable, maybe you could come too.”

“Party? Is this another one of your gangbang parties?”

“I have never been a part of that, stop calling my parties that.”

“There are literally hundreds of people who are there to hook up.” you inform him.

He snickers, “That's like every party.”

You lift up your eyebrows, not quite believing him. It's like every party he hosts or is invited to. People his age make parties slightly less wild. Not that he's too old but still. He's acting and living too wild for his age.

“I'm not hosting it.”

“Who is?”

“JK here.” His brother says, head motioning toward the man next to him. “I'm sure you don't mind that I'm inviting her.”

The said man looks at his brother, shrugging. “I don't.”

“Well?” Your brother looks back at you. “Are you coming?”

“Are you gonna chase everyone that comes my way? Y'know, my friends are all having dates and if I don't wanna spend tonight alone, I would rather have fun.”

“You're allowed to come. And yeah, probably I will.”

“You're a douche. I'm an adult, stop treating me like a child.”

Your brother sighs, already knowing what argument is about to come. It's about the same stuff every time.

“I'm doing it for your own good. The people that are gonna be there, guys that are gonna be there are like us, sis.”

There's a certain softness behind his voice, though it still stays vigorous as if he's trying to get something through your thick head. You know all of that, though. You know he doesn't hang out with the best people. But they're just dicks. And they're thinking with dicks. But you can take care of yourself. Besides, he's going to be there as well.

JK, or Jungkook like you refer to him in your head, briefly looks at you. But you spot it and stare at him as his eyes drift to your brother. “You can't protect her forever.”

“That's something an asshole would say.”

“I never said I'm not one. But let her have her fun.”

“You know what? Don't come. I don't want you there.” Your brother stands up and shoots you a glare before he walks away.

God! He's such a dick!

JK chuckles and you realize you've been frowning this whole time. You hear the door slam close and you scoff. “He's such a child.”

You eye him with no embarrassment whatsoever, tracing all the tattoos he has gotten throughout the years. The white shirt fits his torso perfectly, even though it's oversized his muscles peak through.

Your friend told you he's at the gym almost every day. It sure looks like that.

He suddenly stands up and you straighten automatically, watching him make his way toward you but not before tossing the game controller on the couch. He stays on the other side of the table, reaching for one of the grapes while still staring at you.

God. He's doing something purposely.

For the first time today, your confidence slightly falters but you do your best not to show it. You stare as he pops one of the grapes into his mouth and chews on it.

“You're still invited. That's if you still wanna come.”

You blink, “But my brother–”

“Is like a child sometimes. You're gonna be fine there.”

Gulping, you mutter; “How are you so sure?”

He doesn't answer but there's a small smirk playing on his lips. “You would still come, wouldn't you? Just to piss him off.”

That causes you to let out a soft chuckle because yes, he's right about that. Your brother needs to understand you're not a child. “I would.”

“Alright, then come.”

You poke the inside of your cheek with your tongue and lift your brow, “I will.”

You will go to the party. Even if your brother would burn down the city.

One of the few things you've learned about your brother's best friend – Jungkook – is that he comes from a wealthy family. You know he got his own place in the city center, that alone tells you he's got money. Whether they come from his parents or by his own hard work is unknown to you. Either way, it's quite clear he's always been slightly privileged than most kids your age.

You've never been to his parents' house. There was never a reason for you to go there, plus, you're not your brother and he didn't exactly bring his little sister with him whenever he went somewhere. The only time he would have to spend time with you alone was when he had to babysit you. But you would always stay home and he would let you know how annoyed he is because of that.

A typical teenager who wanted to chase girls and experience his first hook-ups rather than having to babysit his little sister who was born with sharp tongue and big mouth. You're probably his karma for all the hearts he already managed to break.

Anyway – you know JK's parents' house is settled up the hill, away from the city and in a rich area where all the big houses were built. You've never seen it, hence your first reaction when you spotted a huge gate and a house that looks more like a mixture between mansion rather than a small family house.

Before he parted ways a few hours ago when you last saw him, he gave you the address. Seems like you've arrived just in time. There are many people, outside and inside – everywhere. It looks like the college parties you get to see in movies but more upgraded.

The thing about you is that you would never go to a party alone. Even if two people you know are here. Well, your brother still doesn't know you're here and he's about to get pissed once he sees you. Suddenly, the idea to piss him off doesn't seem so alluring.

But this house – or mansion or whatever this building is called – is the only place that is not filled with heart balloons. They might be couples and strangers that are glued to each other, the romance is simply not present. It's nasty and explicit to a certain extent.

A part of you is disgusted at how easy some people seem to be, letting themselves to be groped by strangers, but there's something alluring. Perhaps even more than doing this just to prove a point to your brother.

You don't get a chance to look around the place, since it's crowded and you're trying not to get shoved into, you're looking for a bigger space and maybe something to drink. You make it into the main room it seems. A huge couch in the shape of U looks massive but it fits into the big room perfectly. There are people everywhere and there's not a single space on the couch. However, once you make it closer and spot a tiny space, it's all forgotten and your vision naturally travels to the couple sitting there.

You would spot those tattoos everywhere.

Jungkook's there. And a woman sitting on his lap as you see them making out explicitly, tongues brushing against each other. Alright, a part of you envies the woman but looking around and seeing more of them staring in slight irritation and jealousy, you're not alone. You scrunch your nose at them not caring and just making out with each other in front of everyone. There's no way they don't know everyone's eyes are on them. The guys ignore them though. It's mostly women.

The one that sits on his lap and seems to be ready to jump his bones, is wearing a tiny top and mini skirt. You can see her panties and you feel embarrassed to witness the tiny piece of underwear. Well, she doesn't seem to care.

His hand is on her waist, gripping it tightly as he pulls away and mutters something into her lips. She giggles, all her attention focused on him.

Despite knowing him for years, you've never seen him in this element. And maybe that's what your brother didn't want you to see. Not even Jungkook but everyone here. You've witnessed a few parties, but this one is completely on another level. It looks straight out of a movie and perhaps completely out of your comfort zone.

But you don't leave. You stick in your spot and just stare at your brother's best friend flaunting his charm all around him, but mostly aimed at the woman on his lap.

Since your brother that eventually came out of the bathroom told you to get out, you've decided to come after all and give him a taste of his own medicine. Maybe not exactly the same but that's why you chose one of your tight dresses. They're not special. Just a dress that almost every woman owns. But this one has thin straps and you don't get to wear a bra in it, that's how tight it is. It's the only clothing you're wearing, minus the panties of course.

You look good. You know you do and that's why you chose this outfit particularly. You thought the heels are perhaps too much, but luckily you opted for them instead of your sneakers. Everyone seems to be dressed like they're in a club. Not even one outfit on a woman here looks completely comfortable. And they show more skin when they wear clothing. Not that you're judging. You're not the one to talk.

And you know this choice of clothing is not only a magnet for eyes, but for unwanted touches you were counting on eventually. It's sad but it's the truth. That's why you never come alone to these things. You always have your friends with you. You would kick asses for each other and overall, you feel more protected and safe.

The hand that slaps your ass – that definitely looks good in this dress – causes you to turn and twist your face in anger. You spot a wasted man that smiles stupidly as if he did something cute. You shove him in the chest causing him to stumble into a few people who start to curse at him and complain.

“Touch me one more time and I will fucking kick your ass.” you spit at him.

Your ass might look good but that's not an open invitation for strangers or anyone to touch you unwillingly.

He gains his balance and his drunk features twist into anger. You see it. He's angry because you're not all over his dick because he touched you. First of all, he's not even hot. And he's wasted out of his mind. There's nothing hot about it.

He doesn't make it too close because you push him again, causing him to fall this time.

“You bitch!” he yells, having a trouble to stand up and you cover your mouth to shield the giggle that makes it out.

One of the guys that he stumbled into turns around, ready to curse. But as your eyes lock, all the amusement fades away and your eyes widen in a sudden fear. Shit.

It takes a moment for your brother to register that it's you – perhaps the exposed skin causes him to widen his eyes too before they twist into anger.

“What the fuck.”

“I was invited.” you automatically argue, yelping once he makes his way toward you and grabs you by your forearm. He kicks the bastard that still tries to stand up and starts leading you elsewhere. No, he's not leading you but dragging you with him.

It's not the initial reaction you had in mind. You wanted to smirk, to show him that you're here and there's nothing you can do about it. But that's out of the picture because in the end, you're just a little girl that maybe loves to piss off her brother, but once you truly piss him off you back away.

That realization causes your anger to come back and you dig your heels into the wooden floor, trying to get out of his hold. “Stop squeezing me like that!”

“Would you like to be squeezed by strangers?!” He yells over the music, both of you stopping next to a staircase.

It already happened, you wanted to say but decide to stay quiet.

He couldn't see what the stranger did to you. He only saw the man falling and stumbling into him. So the fact that he's this pissed off to see you here without even seeing what happened just minutes ago, makes you think he needs a psychiatrist. What would he do if he saw what happened?

“Maybe I want that!” you yell at him. “And there's nothing you can do about it!”

He pinches the bridge of his nose and tries to calm down. “What are you doing here.”

“I told you. I was invited.”

“I uninvited you.”

You scoff, “It's not your party, you moron.”

“JK invited you?”

“Yeah.” you shrug just to piss him off some more.

He stares at you for a moment, glaring but you glare back before he shakes his head and takes a deep breath. “Fine. But you're not leaving my side.”

You scoff but he grabs your shoulders tightly.

“I mean it.”

“Stop touching me.” You slap his hands away, his touch fading away as you're about to open your mouth to curse at him some more.

Before you can do it, someone nudges him from the left side. Your brother is about to pounce but once he sees his best friend in the flesh, he stays down but not before he's reminded of what you told him.

“What are you doing.” He questions your brother but he just scoffs in return.

“You invited her?”

Jungkook rolls his lip piercing as he shrugs, “I did.”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“Me? You invited her first if I recall.”

Your brother stares at his friend in disbelief before he glances at you. You shrug, lifting your brown.

“You two are fucking unbelievable.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, probably thinking your brother is just dramatic. Which he is. While they're too busy arguing, you don't pay attention to anything that's being said. You shamelessly eye Jungkook, spotting how blurry his lips are from the make out session you witnessed a while ago. He's got a similar outfit like you've seen him during the day. The only difference is that he's wearing all black.

“Listen you two, I will stay out of your sight, okay?”

“No fucking way!” Your brother argues while Jungkook sighs in exhaustion.

“I'm just gonna have a few drinks and meet new people.”

“These people are not for you to meet or be friends with.”

“Who said anything about being friends?” you mutter, causing your brother to curse at you once more.

“No–” He stops you before you can interrupt him, “You invited her, so you will look after her.”

“Me?” JK frowns, disliking the idea. While you would be slightly offended by the lack of interest when it comes to you, you're also irritated that your brother here is acting the same. Only this time he's giving the responsibility to Jungkook.

“Yes, you! You invited her, so you'll watch over her tonight. If anything happens to her, I will personally kill you,”

God. He's so full of himself. If Jungkook wanted, he could knock him out with one punch. But you don't say it to hurt his male ego and boost Jungkook's one. It seems they're full of ego.

“And I'm not joking.”

He brushes past you two and leaves angrily. To probably shove his tongue down to any first girl he sees.

And from the looks of it Jungkook looks like he would rather much do the same. But then he looks at you, reminded of his current responsibility. You.

“Listen–you don't have to look after me–I can handle my–”

“Are you okay?”

“What?”

He stares you down, not in the creepy way to stare at your body but almost looking for anything that could give him answers to his question.

“I've seen what happened.”

“You've seen it?” you breathe out, “I'm fine.”

“You sure?”

“I handled it.” you grit through your teeth.

“You did,” he agrees much to your surprise. “Or maybe you were just lucky.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” You trash with your hands, but he catches your wrist. Gently. But he has his hold on you and your breath catches in your throat. He pulls you closer.

“What if it was someone who wouldn't be so wasted? Hm?”

You gulp, glancing at his lips for a split second before you find his dark eyes on yours. “It happened with people around us. Someone would step in.”

He scoffs, “Don't count on it too much.”

“They would–”

“Some of them. Not all of them,” he informs you.

You're reminded that he knows these parties. He knows how it's going. And while no one would mess with him personally, it doesn't mean everyone is as safe as him. Let alone any women. That much you've realized and you haven't even been here for a half an hour.

“What if he waited until you're drunk to take you somewhere else?”

You breathe out shakily, “Stop.”

“What if he dragged you upstairs? And that's just the start of what he might've done.”

“Fucking stop.” you warn him with your eyes but he doesn't budge.

He tames you like you're a fucking dog.

“Your brother's right. You're staying with me.”

“And staring at you making out all night?”

You shut your mouth as soon as your response gets out. Jungkook tilts his head tiniest bit to the side and the corner of his mouth lifts up. “You were watching.”

“It was hard not to. Everyone was watching.”

“That's not an excuse.”

You inch closer, licking your lips. “It wasn't supposed to be.”

He stares at your lips before his touch disappears and so its warmth does. “You're not leaving my side.”

You scoff but he glares at you which surprisingly shuts you up.

“I can give you alcohol, you can have fun. But you're not leaving my side.”

“You're worse than my brother.” That's a stretch and you both know it, but you've never seen Jungkook acting like this. He never really cared. He never had to in the first place. That's what your brother was for.

He inches closer, hovering over you like only his presence can. “I can be worse.”

And somehow, that sounds like a promise. Once he motions for you to follow him, you do like a lost poppy with gritted teeth and anger bubbling inside you. But you don't disobey. Perhaps it's the shock or the weird feeling in the pit of your stomach that makes you buzz with excitement.

Fuck.

It's not hard not to have a crush on someone like Jungkook. He's hot, he's confident but not in the way where he's full of himself. He has every reason to be confident.

And just like he promised, he has managed to give you drinks that surprisingly taste good. They're not too strong and something tells you he purposely picked those out for you. You don't complain. They don't cause you to make grimaces at every gulp and you can feel yourself relax. In the corner your brother watches you with glare, reminding you of something that should feel like punishment.

Perhaps it does.

Jungkook has you seated next to him, back on the couch. The woman he made out with sits on the opposite side, sending daggers next to you. You roll your eyes very publicly, scoffing and making sure she sees you.

“JK, can we go somewhere else?” You hear her annoying sweet voice, while Jungkook himself looks slightly irritated that he has you on his watch. “Upstairs?” she suggests.

“Sorry, love, can't.”

She huffs out, “Why? Because you're babysitting?”

You move sideways to face her, leaning through Jungkook as you glare at her. “Maybe he just doesn't want your tongue shoved in his mouth.”

Jungkook sighs, lifting his hand to your collarbones to move you back but you don't budge.

“Oh yeah? He wants more than that.” she informs you.

“God, you're so desperate.”

“Excuse me?!”

“Behave.” Jungkook warns you, pushing slightly harder and finally, you plop back onto your spot and fume with arms crossed.

“Tell your bitch to behave.”

“Y/N.” Jungkook warns through his teeth. You stop, realizing that this is the first time he said your name. Still fuming, you give him a glare before standing up.

“What did you just call me?”

“Come on.” Jungkook stands up too before you can make things worse and he's going to be caught up in a girls fight. This is not the night he planned.

He doesn't drag you like your brother did. He still rests his hand against your back and leads you in a direction. You don't protest. You want to but anything's better than being in the blonde's presence one more second.

When you realize you're standing next to your brother who's leaning against the wall, watching the two of you with a knowing and quite pleased smirk.

“Dude. That's enough.”

“Are you having any issue with my sis, JK?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, “You made your point.”

“No, I don't think I have.”

“You two are annoying.” he sighs, closing his eyes.

“Excuse me? What have I done?” you exclaim, hand on your chest as he gives you a knowing look that shuts you up.

It's more than clear. Jungkook has brought you to your brother, so he could deal with you rather than he has to. It bruises your ego, but only slightly because you don't let any guy do any permanent damage. But you have to be honest. It's slightly embarrassing how he wants to shake you off. Clearly his plans for tonight have been different and watching the blondie still waiting for him patiently makes your night even worse, knowing what exactly he had planned.

“You made me a huge cockblocker, bro.” you interrupt their bickering. It feels refreshing not to be the one bickering with your brother.

Which reminds you that for the first time, you actually see them in some sort of argument even though it's not exactly a fight. Your brother as always is a pain in the ass and Jungkook's now experiencing it. You don't understand why Jungkook just doesn't let you go? Why did he insist on having you by his side at all times?

Most likely, he doesn't want to piss off your brother.

Jungkook throws you yet another glare, but you brush him off pretty easily. “It's not about that.”

You give him a look which makes him groan.

“It's not just about that.”

And then they continue again. Your brother complains about your presence here, blames Jungkook rather than your own decision to come. He knows you. He knows you've done it to mess with him and it worked. But he expected better from Jungkook.

You don't want to hear any second of it any longer. You don't wait for Jungkook's response, not even when you see his frown deepen and you know he's getting angrier by every word your brother spits in his face.

Using the tiny chance where they don't pay you any attention, you distance yourself from them. When you're in a safe distance and are not stopped by one of them, you make a run for it. Grabbing a wine bottle from someone's hold, ignoring them complaining, you make it upstairs and try to find a place where you can be alone. Before they find you.

You know once they notice you're not there, they'll be looking for you. Well, your brother will for sure. Even though he can be a dick, he's worried. But let him. That's what he gets for not letting you enjoy tonight.

Passing by people who either mingle or make out, you try a few doors that are locked. Wise decision. Another reason why Jungkook seems to know how these parties go. It seems almost impossible to find a place where no one is.

Just when you become tired and desperate, you make it to the quieter part of the house. It's weird because there are people everywhere. It's impossible to find somewhere quiet and empty.

Luckily for you, you end up in a room that seems to be some sort of office. It's medium sized, definitely not one of the biggest rooms in this massive house, but still bigger than your kitchen and room together.

It seems Jungkook has forgotten to lock this room. There's nothing special about it though. But he definitely doesn't want anyone to have sex on the wooden desk you pass by. There are a few shelves with books and a lamp, but other than that it's pretty empty. Oh, and there's a small couch. It looks expensive but it seems like they've brought it here just to put it somewhere. Not that it doesn't fit in here.

But it definitely doesn't look as expensive as the furniture you've managed to see in your short stay here. What has it been? Two hours? Two awful hours and no fun.

Making it onto a small balcony, you sigh in relief when you find it open. It's facing the back of the house and your mouth drops when you see a fountain, pool and a garden in the distance. He's filthy rich. His parents are.

Sitting on the cold ground, you take a sip of the wine. Your features scrunch in disgust but you force yourself to drink. It's more from the whole annoyance and anger you've been feeling ever since you came here.

Maybe they were right.

This place is not for you.

You have no idea how long you end up sitting there.

You just stare, hearing the blasting music in the distance and the chatter of people. You wonder if any neighbor called the police on him. But they're in the distance, probably they don't hear it as much.

There's a forest around you. There are no cars, no barking and no city noise. You wonder how this place feels like when there's no party. It must be calm and relaxing.

“Here you are.”

You hear it as soon as the balcony door slides open, ignoring the hint of annoyance in his voice as you take another gulp.

“You can't disappear like that!”

You chuckle, “Really? Watch me.”

“Your brother went crazy when you disappeared.”

“Sounds like a him problem.” you shrug.

“Are you drunk?”

You give him a look, a lazy smile making it onto your face.

“Where did you get that?”

“You know this is the most you've spoken to me since I've known you.” you take a note out loud.

He ignores you though. “You're gonna have one hell of a hangover tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a me problem, no?”

“God, you're such a brat,” he groans, “And get off the ground, you're gonna get sick.”

Snorting, you shake your head. “You're acting just like my brother.”

“You're irresponsible.”

That causes you to get a whiplash from how fast you glare at him. “I am not. Y'all act as if I can't do things on my own. Not only does my brother try to control me and watch over my shoulder every goddamn minute, you started doing it too!”

“He's worried about you.”

“Whatever,” you grumble, “Go back to blondie and leave me alone. Or snitch to my brother about my whereabouts, I'm sure he will get me out of here.”

He stays though. He doesn't move and doesn't speak for a moment. Instead, he sighs and sits next to you.

“I wanted you to have fun.”

“Well, that didn't work, did it?”

“Look at you,” he chuckles, nudging lightly on your shoulder. “You seem to have fun on your own.”

“Yeah, spending Valentine's Day alone on the balcony of my brother's best friend is just so much fun.”

He laughs. He actually laughs and gives you an approving nod once he realizes you're right. “You're not alone anymore.”

You give him a look but before he can elaborate, he motions toward the bottle in your hand with his head.

“Give me that.”

“No, this is the only fun I have.”

“C'mon, I will drink with you.”

Your surprise comes out before you give him a suspicious look. “You will?”

“Yeah.” he agrees and takes the bottle you hesitantly give him.

He takes a small sip, not a few gulps as you expect him to. “Is that all you got?”

“For tonight, yeah.”

“Why?” you question.

“I will take you home.”

You scoff, but then he continues.

“After you decide you wanna go home.”

“Really?” Your surprise makes it out again. “You're not gonna kick me out?”

“I would never kick you out.”

You make a face, “But my brother–”

“Your brother can be a dick sometimes.”

“Woah.”

“Don't act like you don't know it.”

“I do, but I'm just surprised you're the one saying it.”

He sets the bottle on the other side of him. It doesn't go unnoticed by you but you decide not to fight with him, especially once you feel the alcohol doing its job.

“Well, I've seen it from his side and I gotta be honest, he's protective. Sometimes overly but he's not doing it because he hates you, y'know?”

“I know he doesn't hate me,” you inform him. “It's just annoying sometimes.”

“But now I've seen more of your side and he should just let you live.”

You nod in appreciation with lips pursed, “Wow, thank you.”

He smiles, “You still do a lot of stuff just to get back at him. You're not making it any easier, huh?”

You laugh, “It's my rebellion.”

You sit there for a moment in complete silence. Jungkook stands up and leaves. You act as if you're not disappointed but before you can reach for the bottle that Jungkook has left here, the door slides open again and Jungkook wraps a blanket around you.

“Don't look so surprised.”

“Wow, JK does something nice for a girl?”

“I can do a lot of nice things.”

“Is there a double-meaning or?” you trail off, causing him to laugh as he shakes his head.

“Not like that.”

Yeah, because you're his brother's best friend.

Not that you would ever want something with him. Only in your most secretive dreams but that's beside the point. Jungkook is not boyfriend material. You've seen it today more than ever. But you can't deny that he attracts you in the weirdest way possible. You have never experienced that with anyone.

He's your type. When it comes to looks. And you're slightly ashamed to admit that some of his behavior attracts you. Basically, it's a red flag but what do they say? I'm color blind?

“How are you not freezing?”

It's February and you're sitting on a balcony.

“I'm drunk.”

God, you're going to end up sick. Even your drunk self scolds you.

“You wanna go home?”

“Not yet.”

He nods, not protesting as you both stare ahead. Your thoughts run wild, even in their slow pace because of alcohol flowing in your system.

“I was so annoyed because today's Valentine's Day,” you start, chuckling at yourself. “At first I thought I was just annoyed because everyone's in love and everything about today is about love. I do think it's overrated though.”

“I don't know, I never cared about it to be honest.”

You laugh, “Did you make today's party for all anti-romanticists?”

“No, I would've done it either way.” he chuckles.

“Did you ever make something romantic for Valentine's Day?”

He makes a face, frowning but silently laughing amusingly at the thought of it. “No.”

“You know what? I think I was more annoyed that secretly maybe I crave for something romantic. Not necessarily a relationship.”

“Or maybe you just feel the pressure of today's ridiculous holiday and people around you.”

You snort, “You're just saying that because you're not in love.”

“Love's not for me. Not that kind at least.”

“And what kind?”

“I loved our family dog.”

You laugh, “That's different. I'm not talking about that.”

“I know you don't. Just sayin', love has all forms.”

You hum, sighing before you start shivering.

“Come on, let's go inside. You're freezing.”

“But–”

“We don't have to go home.”

“Or maybe I should. I'm getting tired. And I think I'm gonna throw up.”

“You were mixing hard liquor with wine. You will.” he agrees and once you nudge him, he laughs at you. “C'mon, you little brat. It's time to go home.”

As he makes sure you don't fall on the stairs, giving you the support you almost stumble when your brother makes his way toward you, breathless and relieved once he sees you.

“Where the hell have you been?! I've been looking for you everywhere. We've been looking for you! Why do you have the blanket?”

“Found her on the balcony.”

“What were you doing there?!” He screeches.

“Don't worry, I wasn't going to jump. But if I'm gonna have to keep up with your annoying ass for one more second, maybe I will.”

“You're drunk.” He scoffs.

“And honest.” you add.

“And where are you going?”

“I'm gonna take her home.” Jungkook answers, helping you with the last step as your brother stares with mouth wide open.

“Like the hell you will! You were drinking.”

“I wasn't,” he responds. “Not since I was with her anyway.”

“Doesn't mean you don't have alcohol in you.”

“I don't. I'm fine.”

You didn't even realize he wasn't drinking anymore. God. You really can be a pain in the ass too. But that's your brother's doing though. He should've never ordered Jungkook to look after you.

“You're the one who reeks of alcohol,” Jungkook informs him calmly, “Or you want someone else to take her?”

He shakes his head, still hesitant. He walks closer to you and wraps the blanket tighter around your form. “Are you gonna be fine?”

“Yeah, I trust Jungkook. Don't you?”

“I do.” He doesn't hesitate.

He gives one final nod to Jungkook as he leads you out of the house. As you're walking out of it, you spot blondie with a group of what seems like her friends, glaring the shit out of you. You stick out your tongue when Jungkook's busy opening the door for you. The look on your face causes you to smirk.

Jungkook gets you inside his flashy car and you're kinda doomed that you're too drunk to look around and appreciate the expensive type of vehicle. You're drifting in and out of your consciousness. But you notice Jungkook stopping in front of a convenience store, informing you he'll be right back. And he is. It seems like he's been gone for a minute because you close your eyes, open them and he's already there.

The drive and walk to your home is quick. You get to walk on your own, much to your embarrassment there are no accidents of stumbling or falling. As soon as you make it past your doormat, you make it inside your bathroom and throw up in the sink. It's embarrassing once you hear Jungkook behind you, helping you with your hair. He doesn't say anything, just letting you throw up everything that's currently in your stomach.

“I should take a shower.”

“Fuck that. Go lay down. I will lock the door.”

“Lock?”

“Your brother gave me his spare keys.”

“Oh.”

After a few minutes of bickering, you still insist on taking a shower. Jungkook sighs and lets you do your own thing, patiently waiting in the living room. Once you make it out in your pajamas that consist of your brother's huge t-shirt, you find him scrolling through his phone.

“You gonna be fine?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You're seconds from passing out. You might've stumbled in the bath a few times but you hope he didn't hear that.

You drag your feet to your bedroom and fall onto bed. You'll cover yourself later. As soon as you lay down, you ignore your spinning head and the disgusting taste of vomit that is still present, even though you've brushed and rinsed your teeth even in your drunken state.

The night is wild.

You throw up a few times, finding a prepared bucket beside your bed but unfortunately, you don't make it into it the first time. Once you wake up with a messy and aching head, you notice vomits on your floor and you cringe at yourself. Disgusting.

You wake up around twelve, finally in a better state to leave your eyes open without having to vomit everywhere. You're about to reach for your phone, knowing you're going to have at least a dozen messages from your brother. But you stop yourself as you stare at things that weren't on your nightstand before.

There's a glass of water. A box of painkillers and a chocolate bar wrapped in a package filled with pink and red hearts.

There's a note stuck to it.

'Happy Valentine's Day, JK'

You stare, reading the note over and over again.

And they say romance is dead.

#jungkook x reader #bts fluff #bts angst #bts smut #bts au #jungkook fanfic #jungkook au #personasintro

2K notes · View notes

onlyswan · 3 months

Text

summary: in which you sacrifice your strawberries and eyelash wishes for the boy knocking at your door.

idol!jungkook x reader, strangers to friends (?) to lovers / fluff and a pinch of angst / word count: 5.5k

content/warnings: allusions to death and grief / jungkook is a cutie patootie and a blushing hopeless romantic mess / he wants to kiss oc so bad (me too bro) / oc is a sunshine <3 / they do chores and watch movies together :((( / in one scene he was worried oc would think of him as a perv lmao / they’re dorks and i love them / seokjin cameo hehehe

> in which masterlist!

note: to make up for the pain i may have caused and will cause <3 LOL. i hope you enjoy reading as much as i enjoyed writing :D as always reblogs and feedback are appreciated! come chat w me. ily 🌼

—

“it’s so cold,” you mutter through chattering teeth.

the grocery bags sit on the hardwood table with a thud— the careless bringer too hasty. you shove your icy hands in the deep pockets of your jacket, breathing in and out with a sense of relief.

you are not granted the mundane euphoria for much longer, however. the doorbell rings and you are padding across the floor against your will. the cold air hits your face before it enters your apartment.

however, the happy smile that greets you blankets your heart with a type of warmth that is difficult to describe.

if you had to guess who was behind the door, you wouldn’t say the boy you’ve been fiercely pining over for the past month, but it is certainly who you’d be hoping for regardless.

“good morning!”

“oh! wait there for a moment!”

jungkook stands motionless by your open front door as you disappear into your apartment. confusion accompanied by curiosity, he tries poking his head inside, but then decides that he shouldn’t.

upon your return, his face lights up again.

“here you go!”

he accepts the jar of honey faster than he could think.

“w-why are you-?”

you tilt your head, lips forming a small pout. “isn’t that what you’re here for?”

“uh, actually-” he awkwardly pauses, hand that carries the heavy paper bag behind him suddenly feeling weak. “i came here to give you something.”

your eyes animatedly expand in surprise of the size of it, not at all expecting to receive a gift from him today. you do know that he’s fresh from japan, as you converse on the phone almost everyday… why would he come here almost immediately? and didn’t he say they weren’t given the chance to roam the city because of their work schedule?

“i just grabbed things i thought you might like. i hope i got most of them right?” he explains with a nervous chuckle as you take a look inside.

a diverse array of snacks; a beautiful journal painted with cherry blossoms; a hello kitty plushie; stickers, muji pens…

“oh my god, jungkook… these are too much. you didn’t have to.”

oh, curse the hopeless fluttering of your heart.

“wow, gifting your merch- that’s real idol behavior for you.” you tease him, referring to the hooded jacket that has their group logo on its plastic packaging. “thank you!”

“no but it seriously warms you up! i have one too!”

“jungkook, why are you so cute?!”

“ah, shut up! i’m getting embarrassed!” he whines, blushing. “just look at them later after i leave, how about that?”

“let go! it’s mine!” you glare at him, hugging the paper bag to your chest to deny his advances on snatching it away. “are you not leaving? don’t you have work?”

“i told you— it’s my rest day.”

“you did?”

“while we were texting last night.”

“oh,” you blink. “i don’t remember reading that.”

“you? what are you doing today?”

you bite back the smile threatening to give away the thoughts running in your mind a thousand miles per hour. why does he want to know?

“nothing special. just chores the entire day.”

jungkook puts his hand inside the pocket of his coat, an attempt to appear casual as he offers you his valiant effort. “do you want some help? i’m good at doing chores.”

you stare at him, perplexed, as if he just said the most ridiculous sentence you’ve ever heard in your entire life.

“it’s your rest day and you want to do chores?”

“sure,” he grins playfully, not at all seeing how that could be wrong. “why not?”

“you know…” you pause— observing his expression, considering shutting your mouth, but that plan rarely ever works out. “you can just say that you want to spend time with me, right?”

your bluntness sends his heart racing. you’re a danger to his health.

he sinks his perfect teeth on his bottom lip, bringing his dimples into view. to be honest, you didn’t always have a thing about dimples. you didn’t consider them all that special. but why do they make him look cute and sexy at the same time?

his cheeks become tinted with a pale scarlet. you’re wearing that friendly beam again; he doesn’t know how to act. he never knows whether you are joking or not.

“well, now i know.”

—

jungkook sets down the jar of honey on the table as he settles in the living room, fascinated doe eyes darting around every inch of your place. it’s not his first time here, but somehow, it looks different each time. the two frames hanging above the sofa captures his attention all over again, colorful drawings against the plain white wall. gifted to you by your siblings, you said.

a tall castle with a happy family. a little boy slaying a dragon to protect a princess from its savage fire.

he is blissfully unaware of the knowledge that the drawings are the lone survivors of a school bus and a tragedy. you want it to stay that way. you want people to feel the opposite of the sadness you feel when you look at them. that is how you seek your peace.

“are you wearing toe socks?”

“huh?” he makes a sound of confusion, only processing your question upon seeing your gaze trained to his feet. “ah- toe socks- yes.”

“i’m only noticing them now. they look funny.” you scrunch your nose, chuckling.

“don’t laugh! they’re so comfortable!”

“really?” your eyes widen with genuine interest. “i should try them then.”

“yeah, you should!”

he whips his head around as he jokingly voices out an observation.

“but ____, your house kind of looks different today… it’s almost like it’s cleaner than the last time i was here.”

you bury your face in your hands with a high-pitched wine, hiding from him in humiliation. you did not plan on inviting someone over that night, and he had to watch you run around organizing and picking up things— the scattered books all over the table and the floor; the jackets that have created a big heap on the small couch; the jewelry box that ended up on the dining table for some reason.

he laughs in endearment, unable to take his eyes from you. even the way your hair bounces as you furiously shake your head is pretty. wait, does that sound weird?

“that’s right, it should look different! the first thing i did when winter break started was clean up my mess.”

“what’s the first chore on the list then?” he catches the grocery bags in the kitchen from his peripheral. “were you putting away your groceries?”

“you really want to do chores? you don’t want to watch a movie or something?”

“aigoo, it’s fine!” he waves off your reluctance. “stop worrying! i already said i’d help you.”

“but it’s embarrassing…”

it’s either jungkook is denying your advances or he is simply dense. but the fact that he showed up at your door unannounced on his day-off despite complaining about his exhaustion from their hectic work schedule, you want to lean towards the latter and believe that he is… as good at chores like he claims to be.

“you must like fruits a lot.” jungkook comments as he is squatted infront of your fridge, sheltering the freshly bought perishables one by one.

kimchi, lettuce, strawberries, tangerines, shine muscat, apples…

this is an entirely different world through your lens.

it feels strange to watch another person restock your fridge for you.

“they’re easy to eat and i’m lazy to cook.”

he chuckles as he looks back at you, who is sat on the dining table, airy and carefree as you snack on a bag of assorted chocolates from the paper bag he brought. almost all of the white chocolates are gone, he notes.

“not because they’re nutritious?”

“that’s the bonus!”

“what is this?”

“cranberry juice.”

“and this?”

“oyster sauce.”

you energetically hop off the table, an idea lighting up the bulb in your mind.

“i have another recipe for you. french toast with strawberries, then drizzle some of the honey. should i make it for you?”

“ah!” he gasps as if he is in pain, but the truth is his mouth is watering. he hasn’t eaten breakfast, and he wanted to eat more for dinner last night but sleep proved to be much more enticing than food. “that sounds so good! i’m starving!”

“stand up!” you begin pulling at the back of his sweater, forcing him to remove himself from the floor. “i’ll make it! just go relax in the living room, okay?”

“but you just said you’re lazy to cook.” he tilts back his head, meeting your gaze. “i’ll help you.”

“i’m not lazy when it becomes to being a host.”

you bend down with a sweet smile, merely inches away from him, and jungkook swears the earth has stopped spinning on its axis. your face is natural and bare, except for the sheen of lip balm across your lips— and dear heavens, having you this close, you are so breathtakingly beautiful.

“they’re playing christmas movies on channel 36.” you announce, giving him the bag of chocolates. “and the remote is… somewhere on the sofa… or maybe the floor.”

and as he gets practically kicked out of the kitchen, your hands roughly pushing his back, he daydreams of kissing you and tasting sugar on your lips.

—

the sweet, addicting smell of the french toast— strong hints of butter and cinnamon— invades every corner of your apartment. consequently, it also compels jungkook to break your rules and insert himself in the kitchen again.

“you never give up, do you?”

“i don’t,” he agrees, nodding eagerly. he has successfully stolen the task of washing the strawberries, and then slicing them after. he endures the freezing water rendering his hands numb. “it’s a known fact.”

“are you saying i should study harder?” you cross your arms, expression painted with faux vexation.

“yes! exactly!” he humors you, grinning of amusement. “what’s my favorite color?”

you sigh, looking at him from head to toe.

“anyone can guess that from a mile away, jungkook.”

“fuck, okay. that’s fair!”

the sound of his laughter reminds of you reasons to stay through the cycle of the seasons. you don’t understand why, but for some reason, it has finally begun to feel like christmas. the only comfort that comes along with the cruel winter that nips at your skin; the blanket over your heart that provides a type of warmth one can travel to seek but will never be able to find alone.

“what’s my height then?”

“aren’t you six feet?”

the silence that follows is an answer enough for you. the noise of the television emerges now that none of you is talking. he pretends to be too busy to speak, transferring the strawberries over to the chopping board.

“yes, you’re ri-”

“liar!” you point an accusatory finger at him.

and he winces, guilty as charged.

“you hesitated!”

“tsk, i should’ve said yes faster! i wanted to experience what it’s like to be tall!” he regretfully purses his lips, eyebrows knitted as if he just lost the lottery. “but haven’t you read it online? even my shoe size and weight are there.”

“what? why do people even need to know that…?” you exclaim, flabbergasted. “i mean- of course i’ve searched up your name, but it feels like cheating on a test. does that sound silly…? it’s just more fun learning about you from you.”

you briefly walk away to grab a bottle of water from the fridge, and jungkook is left at the counter with fondness blossoming in his chest, bleeding into the chopped strawberries staining his hands red.

he calls out your name.

“mhmm?” you hum in question, muffled by the water in your mouth.

“want to hear a fact about me?”

you wipe your lips with the back of your hand, eyes expanding with fueled interest. “what?”

“i’m actually very good in the kitchen.” he boasts his skills with the kitchen knife, quick and precise, the blade against the wood creating the satisfying click you usually only hear from cooking shows. “are you seeing this? huh…? what do you think?”

“so i’ve noticed. i want something new!”

at that, his shoulder sags in disappointment. to his demise, there goes another failed attempt at making you acknowledge that he is boyfriend material.

“what do you want to know? ask me questions.”

“what’s your ideal type?”

being in your presence for the past hour has gotten jungkook re-adjusted to your personality— straight-forward, bold, smart— so vivacious that it’s dizzying. you make him nervous and comfortable at the same time, and he doesn’t quite know how to explain it either. but you’re a breath of fresh air, the change that he has been anticipating to disrupt his routine.

“why do you want to know that?”

you shrug coyly, smiling like the troublesome vixen that you are. you rather enjoy the tension that has hung in the air. if you’ve learned something from the past: men are easy to get, not easy to keep. because they relish in the chase, getting strung along like this. so, shouldn’t you have your fun too? but even if jungkook’s intentions were pure, you can only imagine that seeing someone whose life revolves around their career is… the perfect recipe for disaster.

“i think who you like also says a lot about who you are as a person.”

“i like someone who is kind and funny…” he hums in thought, unconsciously slotting a piece of strawberry in between his lips. “and passionate about the things they love… mhmm, someone who can be honest with me.”

his words form a constellation named after you, unbeknownst to you, and he wants to say more but anticipating what comes next after you connect the dots makes his stomach twist. he doesn’t feel like an adult yet. he’s still just a young boy with a gorgeous crush and high ambitions that coalesce in his dreams.

“i like someone who has a really pretty smile, too.”

and he should probably stop staring, erase the dumb lovesick smile on his face. for fuck’s sake, it would be easier for him if you would just do the same. behind the sparkles of your eyes, there is something he’s been dying to decipher.

“okay, why are you looking at me like that?”

because you are so pretty, especially when you smile.

“nothing,” he replies innocently. “you? what’s your ideal type? who do you like?”

“i don’t know… no one has captured my heart yet. they’re not trying hard enough!”

every romance you’ve had so far has been a letdown.

“but i’m still looking. i’m young, and hot, and the universe is vast.”

“mhm, i see… that’s true, but maybe… you don’t want to be looking too far.” jungkook suggests.

you smirk. “so you agree that i’m hot?”

“you know. you don’t need me to say it.” he chuckles, shaking his head.

“but i want to hear you say it.”

“you’re very beautiful, ____.”

“but that’s not-”

“the food is ready! let’s eat it before it gets cold!”

he runs to the living room without waiting for you, and you seize the opportunity to squeal without a sound, punching the counter without actually punching— releasing the giddiness threatening to spill from the seams of your heart.

you don’t know if this is heading somewhere, nor do you expect it to, but where you are right now is a good place to be.

—

the movie playing on the screen has become more of a white noise to you, a family comedy far less fascinating compared to jungkook drizzling honey over strawberries and bread from a spoon. you wonder if he is aware how often he creates sound effects while he is doing something.

beside you, his body quakes with cackles during the scenes that an editor would definitely insert the classic sound of an audience’s collective laughter and holler. you stumble upon the understanding that his happiness lies in a myriad of things, and you would envy him for it if not for the fact that he is currently sharing that happiness with you. you laugh when he laughs, and being becomes a little less heavier at that moment.

another commercial break rudely interrupts and jungkook turns towards you. the two of you sit cross-legged, knees knocking against each other as you occupy nearly the entire sofa.

“hi!”

“hi.”

“what are your plans for the holidays?”

“my best friend’s family invited me to stay with them for christmas until the new year. it’s kind of been a tradition since…”

the end of your sentence hangs suspended in the air. you still can’t say it out loud.

jungkook knows they’re gone and you’re alone: only the plain and brutal truths.

the reminder that this is the third christmas you will not spend with your family; the thought that this would be the third christmas they would spend without you if the afterlife was real— they bring tears to your eyes at once, but you forcibly blink them away, shoving enthusiasm down your throat.

“how about you?” you take a bite from your toast, attempting to divert your thoughts to… anything else. “are you coming home?”

you hide so well behind a smile. it doesn’t occur to jungkook that his question rubbed salt on an open wound.

“i miss my mom but i can’t go home yet.” he pouts. “i have work on christmas day as usual. we’ve been preparing hard for it.”

“oh, that’s right! gayo daejeon?!”

he nods in confirmation.

the music festival has been an annual event for his group since they debuted, and he never feels the need to complain because not everyone is given this kind of opportunity. what’s extraordinary for most has become his ordinary, and what was once his ordinary like everybody else’s has simply become a thing of the past. nevertheless, he does not have regrets. he is living a good life, one that he believes is his fate. as long as he has a voice and it is being heard, then his existence has meaning.

“your family will surely watch you, so they’re still celebrating it with you in a way. making them proud is the best christmas gift you can give!”

and right now, in his life, you are the cherry on top. you were so cheerful and supportive about the final shows of their tour as well, raving about how amazing it is to perform three nights in a row at gocheok skydome.

“i’ll watch you too!”

he can’t help it— you’re driving him to be better at what he does. childishly, he wants show off and be the one to capture your heart.

“ah!” he groans. “that means i should work harder at practice tomorrow! i can’t mess up infront of you and my family!”

“why not me? you want to make me proud too?” you interrogate him jokingly.

“of course, it’s my job. it’s what i do best. i’ll make you see!”

“use me as motivation then. you can’t mess up, okay? you have to do well, jungkook! you better not make a mistake! my eyes will be focused on you only!”

his face is reminiscent of a deer caught in the headlights— the headlights being your wide, threatening eyes.

he releases a shaky sigh in dramatic fashion. “i don’t feel motivated, though? i’m getting pressured?”

you wheeze; the plate over your lap tilts along with its contents.

“this is tough love!”

jungkook nearly staggers to his feet. “…love?”

you roll your eyes, small corners of your lips still cheekily lifted. “was the french toast good?”

jungkook is interrupted before he can form a response.

“but if it tastes like shit, just lie to me!”

“what are you talking about?!”

oh my god, you’re too fucking good at making him laugh.

“you’re eating it too! you know it’s delicious!”

“maybe you got a bad batch!”

—

“i’m going to the laundry shop across the street. i’ll just be a minute.” you announce, hauling a laundry basket to the living room.

your strained grunts prompt jungkook to look up from his phone, and eventually to stand up with urgency and relieve you of your heavy, heavy burden.

“shit, how heavy is this?”

you’re not given a chance to protest as the basket is immediately stolen from your grasp; your lips part open but no words come out.

“i’ll come with you!”

“well, hopefully not more than twelve kilos.”

it’s definitely heavier than usual; mainly comprised of the thick and layered clothes you’ve been wearing to shield yourself from the unforgiving cold.

“let’s go.”

jungkook wraps his hand around your wrist, gently tugging. the butterflies in your stomach wakes up earlier than spring’s arrival.

“this thing is bigger than you.”

an extremely obvious exaggeration.

“i’ll be the one to carry it.“

—

jungkook wears a cap and a face mask underneath his hoodie, eyes barely even visible in his all-black getup for the public to see; and somehow you also find yourself with a scarf around your neck, pulled up over the bridge of your nose.

when the year 2017 rolled in, you predicted that more crazy, life-altering stuff would happen. it has been an on-going theme, a relentless domino effect that has brought you to your knees time and time again. but you never would’ve fucking imagined that this is how you would be wrapping it up. how the hell did you cross paths with a famous idol, and why is he carrying your laundry basket right now?

“wait here for a bit.” you bring both hands to the basket’s handles, coaxing him to let go. “i’ll just bring it inside.”

“are you only dropping it off? that’s expensive!”

“what?” you stare at him in bewilderment, not expecting him to utter such statement at all. “you’re talking like you’re not rich!”

“i’m not! and still,” jungkook becomes flustered underneath his disguise. “it’s good to be practical. anyway, we have a lot of time.”

“you sound more like a mom than my mom did.”

“shhh!” he shushes you, putting a finger over his face mask. “let’s just do your laundry ourselves.”

“why would you do laundry right now? you’re supposed to be resting in the first place!”

a tug of war ensues infront of the laundry shop. strangers doesn’t know better. you look like a married couple bickering over who should take responsibility of the chore.

“____, just let me, mhm? i’m a pro at doing laundry too! we’ll be done before you know it!”

“how are you good at everything? honestly, it sounds like a scam!”

“how dare you doubt me?” he gasps in offense. “i do my own laundry!”

“seriously?” you quirk an eyebrow.

“i’m serious!”

“i don’t think i believe you, though…”

“if you search online, you-” your voice echoes in his mind, and subsequently, jungkook cuts himself off.

‘it feels like cheating on a test. it’s more fun learning about you from you.’

“oh, nevermind. let’s go inside already. i’m freezing!”

“jungkook!” you whine, stomping your feet on the ground as you refuse to let go of the basket despite jungkook beginning to head inside.

“why?” he copies the childishness of your tone, and although you can’t see his face, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes tell you enough.

“we can’t…”

the adorable sight of you appearing to be so shy is foreign to him. he can’t help but to chuckle. “why not?”

your lips form a pout.

“my panties…”

you bring a finger to point at the basket.

“they’re in there too… i was only going to drop them off today because you came with me…”

“ah…” jungkook awkwardly freezes, unblinking. “wait, you’re right?”

why didn’t he think of that? he’s a fucking idiot. of fucking course. what if you take things the wrong way and you’re creeped out by him now?!

“fuck, sorry. i’m sorry. i wasn’t- um, i swear i wasn’t trying to…”

his tongue becomes tied, struggling to search for the words that won’t make him sound like a damn pervert.

yeah, way to go, jungkook. you’re not the fucking boyfriend yet and you’re ruining your chances.

“did i make you uncomfortable? i’m sorry. it probably looked li-”

“hey, breathe, calm down. it’s alright, jungkook.”

you giggle in amusement, placing a hand over his chest— his heart. it’s meant to ease him, but the knowledge that you’re feeling his racing heartbeat only causes it to further intensify. he swallows the lump in his throat, dumbfounded by the turn of events. he wants the ground to swallow him whole, but he also wants to stay in this moment a little while longer.

“it’s alright. i’ll go bring this inside then i’ll treat you to lunch at the restaurant over there! don’t run away from me, okay?”

—

“the yukgaejang looks good.” you utter absentmindedly, admiring the spicy beef soup with plentiful vegetables from afar. “i’m jealous of you.”

the other tables are already having a feast while you and jungkook are waiting for your take-out to be prepared.

“then you should’ve ordered it too.” jungkook scolds you lightheartedly. “should i go?”

“no! i’m not good with spicy food. spice makes me cry.”

he smiles softly. once again, you complete the picture from his eyes. “what is there to frown so sadly about?”

“i feel like i’m missing out.” you complain, the pout on your face almost permanent. “spicy food is like one of the trademarks of korea, you know? but i can’t handle it!”

“so cute…” jungkook has decided to give in to his impulses, it seems— the evidence is him pinching your cheek for the very first time, and with the discovery of its delightsome softness, it will definitely not be the last.

“oh, oh, oh! an eyelash!”

his doe eyes glisten with pure wonder and excitement, and the air in your lungs becomes suspended when his hand moves to tenderly cup the side of your face. as he is absorbed in capturing the tiny eyelash that has fallen and glued itself on your cheek, your mind reels with the size of his hand, the sensation of his innocent touch against your neck.

“aaand-” jungkook takes your hand, passing on the eyelash to your index finger. “there you go. make a wish!”

your eyes flicker down, and none of you speaks for a moment or two.

a wish…?

what does one wish for when they have given up on wishing for miracles?

“did you do it?”

you peek at jungkook, nodding. at last, you blow the eyelash away, outside the window, where it becomes one with the snowflakes that came from the same sky where wishes are supposedly granted.

“what did you wish for?”

“i’ll tell you when it comes true.”

—

jungkook eats so well— you feel full just by watching him eat. so when he asked you, eyebrows knitted and legs bouncing, if he could have more rice, you were left with no choice but to plug in the rice cooker for the second time today. you cooked only enough for two meals today: brunch and dinner for one. you’re more than happy to have given him the dinner portion. you like that your apartment is providing warmth for another soul, despite the old times that it housed ones that ended up haunting you.

“are there any more chores to do? while we wait for the rice?”

you gaze switches from him to the living room.

the boy who was knocking at your door is now vacuuming your floors.

you sit on the couch with your legs hugged to your chest, chin propped on your knees. an unexplainable feeling swims in your chest, but your heart calls to welcome it. not to be delusional, but technically, isn’t this a marriage proposal?

it falls on dear ears— the infuriating sound of the cheap vacuum cleaner your landlord lended you and never came back for. underneath it is jungkook’s mellifluous voice, humming and singing, and it’s all you can hear.

the only use you knew of honey is the magic it does with tea for a sore throat. when you learned about his demanding occupation, he is all you can think of in relation to the elixir. since then, you’ve been taking the god awful amount of honey your pesky neighbor provides without any complaints.

this is nice… this is good. you are glad that you opened the door.

—

after a hearty and satisfying meal, you and jungkook retired to your previous spots infront of the television screen. more of the snacks he bought for you ended up being shared. near your stacks of books are colorful food wrappers and half-empty glasses of water. two mediocre yet entertaining movies later, you tell jungkook that you should pick up your laundry before the shop closes in an hour. however, after he has excused himself to the bathroom, he is greeted by the sight of you peacefully asleep on the sofa.

once more, a new side of you is laid bare, and his affection grows. he doesn’t know when he can admire your face this close again without melting from your stare.

heedful of disturbing your much deserved rest, he carefully places a pillow beneath your head, and he pulls down the blanket you’re wrapped in to cover your cold feet.

with one last stolen glimpse, he grabs your key and receipt from the bowl and leaves.

—

“is it time for you to leave?” you delicately rub at your eyes that are still half-closed; voice quiet, barely there.

you were awoken by the front door opening and closing, but nothing has quite registered to your fuzzy brain yet, except for the coat that you neatly kept and is already re-worn by its owner.

and he knows you’re most probably just sleepy, but the way you’re gazing at him as if you’re sad to see him go makes his heart clench.

“no, i picked up your laundry.” he enlightens you, consciously speaking with refined tenderness, as to preserve the serenity that has enveloped the atmosphere. “i can stay until eight. is that okay?”

you release a weary sigh, nodding. “of course… and you’re such a nice friend, thank you.”

he plops down on the sofa, filling the jungkook-shaped space beside you.

tired… you’re so tired… despite the given privilege to finally sleep to your heart’s content, you’re still so tired. your forehead lands softly on his shoulder, and unbeknownst to you due to your stupor, jungkook’s breath hitches— the polar opposite of the steady rise and fall of your chest. you make him swoon. he deliberately ignores the fact that you just called him a friend.

you peer down at the floor, past the curtain of your disheveled hair, slowly blinking. those ridiculous toe socks… you giggle in secret.

“jungkook?”

“yes?”

“are you cold?”

“freezing.”

you lift your head and he knows— you have to be playing games with his heart, bringing the temptation to kiss you so painfully close. “do you want some tea?”

—

the performance has commenced but the passionate screams of the audience still rings in jungkook’s ears as he runs backstage, chased by the staff attempting to wipe the sweat he is practically bathing in. he squeezes one eye shut as beads of sweat threaten to enter it. his chest heaves with exhaustion and his heart pumps with overwhelming adrenaline. most of the time, this job doesn’t feel real. he feels high. this is the textbook definition of a dream.

“where’s my phone? please? does anyone have it?” he yells in the midst of the chaos and clamor as he completely strips off his in-ears.

a hand reaches towards him with the device, and his expression of gratitude gets lost somewhere among the repetitive reminders of the remaining time before they should have returned to their designated seats.

he allows the hair and make-up stylists to do their jobs, him as their doll in need of a retouch. on the other hand, he impatiently waits for his phone to power on.

the tapping of jungkook’s foot ceases, and from his glowing reflection on the vanity mirror, the clueless people surrounding him witnesses love strike.

guess my eyelash wish worked like a charm. your performances went really well

and you looked so cool on stage ☺️

merry christmas jungkook ❤️

“jungkook-ah, what are you smiling at?!”

seokjin cackles. jungkook didn’t even notice him roll his chair so close. he then decides to play dumb to tease their youngest one.

“wow, who is this ____ you’re texting?”

“hyung!” jungkook panics, hissing underneath his breath. “lower your voice!”

“ouch!” seokjin yells, rubbing his arm that was hit as a punishment.

he allows a moment of silence.

his expression goes blank and he avenges himself.

“ah!” jungkook gasps as the slap on his thigh resonates, forced to be ripped away from overthinking a text message. “hyung! you better start running!”

Draft: i know it’s late.. but can i see you later?|

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook one shot #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook au #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook smut

1K notes · View notes

satoruhour · 3 months

Note

i need jealous racer geto hes js so whudurieiw and the way u write about himm🤭🤭

LUVRGIRL

a/n: eeuuughh idk whether to like this or not but enjoy nonetheless !!! not so much of racing but the sentiment is there lol. previous part (lloromannic) here / @screampied @kizoken @t4kio @redskyvenus @mysugu @suguruplsr @slttygeto ✶

wc: 6.3k

warnings: racer!geto, soft dom!geto, fem!reader, sprinkle of fluff, pet names, praise, ldr, phone sex, masturbation (both f and m), fantasising, daisuke is being annoying again!!!!, sorta jealousy plot point, brief dry humping, oral (f! receiving) / cunnilingus, clit stimulation, fingering, unprotected p -> v sex, breeding / creampie kink, implied multiple rounds, n*sfw under the cut

the next six months were torture, indefinitely. it was an endless heap of assignments, of deadlines, of long-distance calls with your love that you both were so close to booking flights of your own. university was brutal, too. on top of tuition fees and getting the materials for your classes, it was heart-wrenching to even look at the prices of the flights from your country to japan, so you bit down your pride and subjected yourself to settling for the long-distance arrangement.

“hey, baby,” geto mumbles sleepily and your frown deepens upon forgetting that tuesdays was where he slept early. you still had to call, though, but you realise it too late when he answers with that groggy, raspy voice of his. there’s some ruffling behind the call, no doubt the sounds of his bedsheets as he gets himself comfortable while you huddle at the small nook of your room that’s next to the window.

from here you can see the sun setting, a totally different story in japan where you can hear geto yawn and down a glass of water next to his bed.

“shit . . sorry su, i forgot—”

he scrambles to reassure you, awake and sat up, “no! no— no, it’s okay . .” you wince when you hear him yawn yet again, but this time he sounds a little more in the realm of consciousness. you’re unaware of the smile forming on his face just from hearing your voice, fidgety fingers squeezing and releasing the duvet over him, “what are you up to, my love?”

you hum into the phone and you’ve never wanted to backpack across the seven seas to see someone so bad before. now on month nine, your excitement’s become even more prominent at wanting to end the semester as soon as possible, willing your lips not to mutter out the arrangement you’ve been planning with his group of friends.

“just needed a break from studying for finals. i’m dying,” you lament over the line and your heart flutters at his chuckle, something you miss against your ears and skin immensely, “just wish you were here . .”

“yeah?” and you have to squeeze your eyes shut and rub your thighs together at the soft, rough yeah he mumbles out. you can imagine it too: sitting against his headboard half-naked while the duvet pools around his waist area. he’s sitting there like plaster sculpted by Monti while his hair flows around him. you almost squeal and your boyfriend only catches just the start of it.

“what? what was that?” he asks and your hand is clasped so hard over your mouth like a captor’s got your hostage, but you only let out a breath.

“n-nothing,” you laugh, picking yourself up from the nook and getting yourself comfortable in bed. it’s been a long day of studying, anyway, and your next exam isn’t until five days later. you could afford some downtime, right?

“but,” you sigh, turning on your side and sneakily slipping a hand into your pants, “my day’s boring. it’s all studyin’. why don’t you tell me what you did today, instead?” you can hear your parents already preparing dinner outside, but you press on and try to drain out the intrusive noises of cutlery and porcelain and the incessant calls of your mom to your dad for some help on the stove.

“alright,” he drags the word out and laughs again, getting comfortable in his bed just like you do, but your end goals are entirely different, “but it is pretty boring as well. it was maintenance day today.”

“oh!” you remember him briefly mentioning that the other day — since halloween was approaching, there was bound to be more patrolling policemen around the streets and underground, so races had to be put on hold for the meantime. there was still other more secluded areas to race, but geto didn’t want to risk his Mazda being taken away nor for a stain to appear on his clean academic record.

“changing the crankshaft? i know the old one was giving you loads of trouble,” you mumble, feeling your cunt pulse and throb from the breathing you can hear over the line, “among . . other things.”

“yeah, my baby’s so smart for remembering, huh?” he praises, continuing to go on about his day. while it was merely taking-care-of-his-car day, it was still way more eventful than yours. he had went on a solo day out to your beloved café to relish in the good times, he had hung out with gojo for a while and drank some beer atop the mountain they frequented, even went out for some arcade fun.

“unfortunately—” geto’s low voice spurs you on. you’ve been lazily rubbing at your pussy, just humming into the phone while you only descend more and more into pleasure, “it’s taken a hole out of my allowance, i guess. my dad’s more generous with the parts that he gives me but at the same time i feel like he knows what i’m doing underground.”

he laughs and you fake a giggle, but your breaths are starting to get heavier with each sentence he utters, mind filling with flashbacks of how many ways he’s bent you over to fuck you, drunk on the phantom-like winds upon your ear that sound like he’s whispering all those filthy things to you. “and . . just missin’ my girl.”

“how’ve you been, baby?” he asks with a low voice, like he knows what you’re doing and the term of possession only has you sucking in a breath, fingers slip inside you after possibly a decade of teasing and you find it hard to answer. “darling?”

“y-yeah, ’m still here,” you pant out, afraid of being caught, but your voice quivers enough just for geto to catch on to what you were up to. he didn’t fault you, though (he never blames his girl), but there is a small smirk that forms on his face. he purposely lowers his voice even more, if it was possible, mirroring and mimicking your breathy tone when talking to him.

but with one hand that goes down to his pelvis, he doesn’t have to mimic you at all, hand palming languidly at his bulge. in the dead of the night, there wasn’t much need to keep his voice down in order to hear the pretty moans falling from your mouth; he does anyway.

it’s too shitty of a reception especially with your nokia’s, so he hears the artificial, metallic-like voice coming from his phone, but your sounds are just too lovely, transcending the robotic-ness of a phone call. and it’s like you’re actually there, smiling mischievously at him while stroking his cock and teasing him the way he liked to be teased.

“s-sugu?” you mumble, mind heading into the extremes and confident now that he’s just weirded out and silent, but it’s anything but that.

“yes, baby?” he hums, smiling to himself when he hears rustling over the phone and he can imagine you lifting your hips to remove your panties, tossing it somewhere across the room. “wanna tell me what you’re doin’?”

you suck in a breath — so he knows — but suguru always knows everything so you’re whining into the receiver, pleasantly surprised when he replies with a deep groan that only makes you clench around nothing.

“that’s right . .” he drawls and you hear a soft thud over the line, and now you’re the one quieting your movements just to hear your boyfriend, the faint shlick shlick sounds of his hand along his cock. geto gasps when he squeezes his tip just like how you do it, pre-cum starting to leak. “need you h-here, doll . .”

you mewl softly and start the hand on your clit again, abandoning the tight hold around your phone just so you can use the other to slip your fingers into your warm cunt. it doesn’t even compare to the thickness and length of geto’s dick, but you have to work with what you have. with head turned toward the speaker, your boyfriend has gone non-verbal, too, moaning like a slut into the receiver.

“suguru, i’m— please . .” you whine softly, hips bucking into your hands, “doesn’t feel as g— good.”

geto coos inwardly at your needy voice, mouth falling open at his rock hard cock. it’s so hard that it hurts, left to merely fuck his fleshlight whenever he could and use his hand on other days. he missed your sweet fucking pussy so, so much, just picturing your beautiful arched back that lifts off the sheets and your shaking thighs. he imagines your perfect pout on your face as you finger yourself, unsatisfied, obviously, begging him with tugs to his hands and his eyes flutter close.

“i know, baby, and ’m sorry,” he mumbles, taking the nokia from his ear to put it right up to his relentless pumping and you swallow, the slick, wet sounds more clear now. “but you hear what ya do t’me, don’t you?”

“mhm . .” you trail off, thinking of his fat cock impaling you instead, and you follow his actions to a T, bringing it right to your sopping cunt and geto has to scrunch his already shut eyes just to wish that his hand was your pussy. your hand is getting tired, he’s sure, but you finger yourself so prettily his hand easily speeds up, giving his shaft periodic squeezes.

“so wet, suguu . .” you drag out his name, already feeling your high approach soon, but you want the both of you to cum together. “i miss you stretchin’ me out . .” a hiss from suguru, “i miss your cum spilling out of me.”

that has geto choking out a whine, “f—fuck, sweetheart, don’t say that. i do miss g-giving you all of my cum—”

the filthiness of everything contributes to all your senses, parents omitted from memory, your finals at the back of your mind and only focusing on the envelope that resides on your bedside table containing a plane ticket. in one week you’d be able to see him again — a sweet treat given to you by gojo and nanami with their combined expenses.

you didn’t even know how you could thank them and while nanami waves you off for any payback, gojo did say you could treat him to anything in that café. it was difficult not to be excited, a louder whine drawn from your throat again and he laughs breathlessly, voice down low and distraught.

“any particular reason w-why my girl’s so needy lately—?”

geto basically chokes out his question while you shake your head until you remember that he can’t see you, answering with a broken “no”.

you resist the urge to spill on the exact reason — your mind spiralling from the anticipation of meeting him, the many, many lewd memories you’ve made over six months, his just-woken-up voice — because he’d never let you live it down.

“c-close, suguru—” your thighs are squeezed tight around your tired hand, sensitive from the immense overstimulation, “’m g’nna cum soon—!”

“me too, my love,” geto’s eyes are back open, trained on his cock and watching the sheer neediness shown in his weeping tip and bucking hips. he needs this, he needs you, and once you’re submitting your final paper, he’s sure to look at flights right to your doorstep.

“i’m c—” you’re whining out, body totally turned over and lying on your stomach as you chase your high, fuelled by the deep guttural groans of your boyfriend. your lips and mind are only filled with suguru, suguru, suguru, not even caring that your sheets are soaked and your fingers are cramping.

“baby, baby, baaaby . . s—shit—” geto reaches his release first, mind filled with replenished memories of your tight pussy hugging his cock, spurts of white spilling all over himself with a loud groan and you’re left to listen out for the desperate sounds of your boyfriend miles away, lengthening his climax as he continues to pump himself. “cum all over your fingers, doll . .”

suguru coaxes in that sweet voice of his, mumbling deep into the phone only for you. “doing so, so good, aren’t ya?” the quietness on his end, the slow lazy stroking of his hand again, and you’re cumming all over your fingers, eyes blown wide from the orgasm that he talks you through while you ride it out on your mediocre fingers. your mouth is stained with endless profanities and moans mixed with geto’s name, muffled by the bedsheets you’re so harshly biting into to prevent any loud, unbecoming sounds.

“that good?” he asks with a laugh, yawning yet again and you feel guilty again—

“i’m sorry, s—”

“no. don’t, doll, don’t apologise,” suguru brushes his thumb over his thigh, partially wiping off the cum and partially hoping he can relax the furrow of your brow like he always does. “you’re frowning and your shoulders are up, probably, relax . .”

you sigh, another thing that geto values a lot and has taught to you; deep breaths and untensing all parts of your body.

“good girl, was that good?”

“the phone sex or the deep breaths?”

geto grins. god, he missed you so fucking much — “both.”

“both was very good, thank you very much,” you giggle, not paying much mind to the way you remove your fingers from your cunt, turning over to the bedside table to take some tissues, “although the sex was a little better.”

“aw, no wins for the intense, groundbreaking, spirit-calming deep breaths?”

you shake your head (you’ve got to stop doing that), “ehh . . it was alright.”

geto’s reluctant sleepiness grants you a few more minutes together, his words starting to slur more and more the longer you were on the line, but you can’t say you don’t enjoy it. with fatigue came the words laced with unhindered affection, murmuring softly about hoping to see you soon, to feel you, to kiss you, and you expressed the same sentiment back to him.

the other switches the output to speaker, wanting to take in the messily taken profile pic he set your contact with. a blurred, blinding smile with his face squished against yours; a little below the two of you, berry and cherry clutched within your palms, doing the same. “can my girl do her best for her finals?”

“i can’t promise the best, but i’ll try . . okay?”

geto hums, a soft smile on his face. he’s cleaned up by now, new sweatpants on and duvet pulled right to his neck while he stares at your face, the pixels of the nokia never diluting your beauty.

“attagirl. have a good dinner, lovergirl.”

that knocks some breath out of you, and you grin like a schoolgirl.

“have a goodnight’s sleep, loverboy.”

you bounce on your heels impatiently when the plane finally lands, waiting for the throngs of people on the flight to leave through the bridge, but it’s taking ages, speed walking once you’re out. you wanted to be the first at the luggage conveyor belt, you needed to be the first passenger of your flight to be out of the arrival doors.

without the rush of the people and the striking colours of your boyfriend’s friends’ hair colours, it wasn’t too difficult to run up to them for a big hug.

“(y/n)~!” gojo drags out your name, waving you over excitedly and bringing the both of you into a group hug. nanami is adamant on being the ever broody racer, but you catch the ghost of a smile when he wraps a careful arm around your shoulders.

“how was the flight, (y/n)?” the blonde’s firm but concerned voice cuts through the chaos of the white-haired man.

“don’t ask lame questions like thaaaat, nanami! you’ll just bore me—” and a resounding smack! is then heard, and gojo’s clutching the back of his head in pain, the other taking the opportunity to lead you away from gojo’s antics and offering to help with your luggages. without words, nanami already feels your nervousness, patting your back in solidarity.

“hey— hey! oi!”

gojo slams the door to his car. “okay, we’ve painstakingly tried to hold suguru back whenever he was about to book flights—” gojo mentions in the car on the ride there, taking way too quick turns for your liking with your luggage going to town in the trunk. its thumps against the roof and sides always seem to interrupt the conversation with the white-haired man, but he seemed too much in a hurry to care. “think it was almost eight separate times!”

“thank you— ah!” you almost lurch forward at the amber light, but gojo decided at the last minute that he was just going to run it — braking then speeding it up all over again.

“you know, for a racer, you’re a terrible civilian driver . .” you groan once you reach the mouth of the familiar car park that you frequented in your six months in japan, but now that gojo’s easily manoeuvres the car to a slow, the adrenaline of the fast drive changes into something of dread, of a dizzying feeling.

what if suguru didn’t want to see you anymore? what if he already booked himself a flight and was nowhere to be found? what if he’s cheat—

your hands are clammy, not even present to how gojo calls out from you from the driver’s seat. cautiously, he’s putting a hand on your shoulder (because god forbid gojo touched anything of suguru’s, both Mazda and girlfriend), and shaking you out of your daze.

you catch glimpses of his sentences: “all . . talks about . . trust . . no girl has . .” but you stop his rambling with frantic slaps to his shoulder. you know you shouldn’t be jumping to conclusions but it’s hard not to when the scene is clear as day. suguru is never one to cheat — from the six months you’ve known him, from the many calls and check-ins the two of you do over the line.

defying time zones, fighting fatigue . . for this?

but you know better to list your lover as the instigator, especially from how this other girl was just hovering all over his Mazda, sticking her ass out and trailing her hand all over his finishing. that was one thing — but geto isn’t making any move to shove her off, only looking at her through hooded lids that could definitely drive anyone off. she wasn’t affected, though.

you’re not listening to gojo even when you step out of the car, already used to the curious eyes that rake over you and your figure — curiosity turns into recognition and then shock when they see how your boyfriend acts, but before you can actually make your way toward them, another man sidles up to you.

oh my god, it’s daisuke. you sigh loudly, knowing how gojo had dealt with him before and how much of an asshole he is, but all he does is look you up and down, not giving one fuck to how the subject of his embarrassment was sitting right in the driver’s seat.

“hey, babygirl.” you want to vomit from that one greeting alone, but you try not to pay him much mind. “what’s a pretty lady like you doin’ out here?”

“don’t your sorry ass have a girlfriend?” daisuke doesn’t even begin to digest the insult, and you think that he’s a masochist with how much he sets himself up for getting insulted, but then the girl’s eyes meet yours — she’s in his pictures, she’s in his wallet, you’ve seen her when this loser beside you blatantly brags about his girl. you’d feel sorry for her but it seems she’s as stupid as him.

they’re exactly that — realising you just walked yourself into one big jealousy scheme planned by the biggest jokers of the underground racing scene, your suspicions are confirmed when his eyes are also locked on his girlfriend with your boyfriend of all people, making sure she sees that he’s all up in your space. she’s doing the same, but when she actually tries to touch him is when geto finally does something, and the jealous burn in your heart quells a bit.

geto’s too smart to be mingling around with her, you hope, when you hear him mutter something to her and you smile to yourself when she cowers under his stare and words.

“you touch my fuckin’ car one more time and i’m sure to drive both you and your loser boyfriend, out of here forever. you can take your clown asses to another parking lot and race there and then i won’t have to see your faces any more,” his hold around his wrist isn’t harsh, but it is firm, and he prevents her from leaving until she gets his message, “plus i have a girl i’m obsessed with. take your lame jealous charade somewhere else and maybe go to couples’ therapy. you two clearly need it.”

and when she looks at you again — you think it’s how your identity settles in her mind — she yelps and finally runs away at the daggers you give, not even sparing a glance to daisuke who’s carefully scooching closer to you. but just as he tries to wrap his arm around your waist, your eyes catch suguru’s.

his eyes soften for just a moment; it was just like the café. his palms turn sweaty and he feels like he could collapse — but now you’re looking just a little different. he wasn’t sure if it was because of your hair or the tiredness from exams, but you’re still as stunning as the day he led you out of the parking lot.

geto cannot resist giving you a big grin, but it quickly fades when his gaze falls on daisuke beside you and a scowl appears. and while your body’s already distancing yourself from the man’s crusty ass lips, you feel a throb go right down to your core when the same annoyed glower forms across his features: eyebrows pulled taut, long strides, muscles bulging in the wifebeater he’s got on.

six months away from your man has clearly done things to you.

with one smooth swoop, geto has you pulled flush against him, not even looking as he uses his free hand to grab at daisuke’s neckline before he leans in to kiss you. it’s admittedly a little embarrassing, cause your body reacts so readily to him, tits pressed against his chest while your fingers tangle themselves in his long hair. he tastes like cigarettes and cherries like always and you moan softly into his mouth when his hands wander right down to your ass to give it a squeeze.

“satoru’s not very good at hiding secrets, unfortunately,” geto spills and you pout, surprise ruined by the loud mouth of his friend, but before he gives you his undivided attention, he tugs daisuke closer, roughly. “but that don’t mean i ain’t happy to see ya, baby.”

geto laughs at your flustered state, until his expression darkens again — “you have a lot of nerve touching my girl.”

“I—i didn’t! she was basically begging for me to touch her.”

“don’t you—”

“p-plus! my girl was all up over you too, so i thought i’d give her a little lovin’—”

geto almost smashes his jaw in. either way, he lands a clean punch to his face that has daisuke writhing on the floor, clutching his mouth in pain but that doesn’t deter daisuke one bit who sits up . . and then is immediately beaten down again with a boot to his chest. your boyfriend leans down and looks him straight in the eye.

“i’m cancelling my race just so i can make my girl scream my name loud enough for you, because you could never fuck her or anyone that good with your shit dick game,” geto scoffs, “and forget girls, you can’t even win enough races to rise up the ranks. you’ve embarrassed yourself enough, don’t you think?”

suguru doesn’t bother waiting for an answer, only ushering you toward his Mazda parked in the familiar corner, easily shooting a text to gojo to cancel the race as he mentioned just so he could . .

with windows down, you relish again in the tokyo night air, the hand that you miss so much on your thigh, the alluring voice he’s speaking to you in, the beauty of geto suguru. everything looked the same since you left, from the photos he’s put up on the dashboard, the berry keychain hanging from the rear view mirror, the outer orange coating of his car.

“i—”

“i’m sorry, my love,” suguru leaps forward to apologise, stopping the car abruptly. you’ve already reached your destination but, it seems he wants to say something first.

“why are you apologising?”

he frowns, bringing his hand to cradle your cheek. easily, you’re leaning into the touch, closing your eyes. “for ruining the surprise, for that stupid fight with daisuke, for letting my emotions take over.”

you mirror him, features also deepening in somberness. “you didn’t do anything — if anything, you were a victim of his girlfriend too. but . . seeing her be all over you, made me think the worst after not seeing you for six months.”

geto’s eyes soften yet again (he simply can’t help it around you), using both hands to hold you, now, and you float into his arms like a feather, like he’s in command. you let him guide you into the driver’s seat, faces so close and just hoping to touch after so many months apart.

“i . . i love you,” he swallows, brushing the hair from your face. you find that he’s shaking and breathing so heavily you’d think he was hyperventilating, but he gathers courage on a deep breath and continues, “i have since you left. right after, i went home to cry.”

“oh . .” your lip juts out, eyebrows downturned and eyes filling just a little, “oh, sugu . .”

“i just have always wanted to say it, i guess,” he chuckles, sniffling to hide his true emotions, “i just didn’t know whether i should say it over the phone where it would sound cheap; b-but, you don’t have to say it back, of course—”

you smile through tears, pressing a peck to his forehead in gratitude, “it wouldn’t sound like it to me, but i appreciate you waiting until i returned,” geto relishes in your lips upon his skin again, and he doesn’t think he could survive another day, another minute, another second without you, “i have, too, but i’m not sure when. it definitely includes the time you set alarms to wake me up for exams, though.”

he laughs freely at the memory now, of alarms interrupting his dinners and his parents asking “another call?”, but they let him do whatever, happy to hear their boy joking and laughing over the call with his mystery partner. you giggle, using your thumbs to wipe away the tears that did fall, letting the interior fluorescent light of the Mazda illuminate the features you love so much, all belonging to the man you pined over from many miles away.

“i love you too, suguru — stumbling into that random car park was the best thing i’ve ever done.”

“well, it might’ve not turned out as well if some other group had gotten to you first,” his thumb plays with your bottom lip and brings you to him, “’m just glad i got to ya in time . .”

“yeah? what if you didn’t at all?”

“then i would’ve made sure i’d find you in any way that i can, even if i had to beat up a thousand daisukes.”

that makes you giggle at little, a sliver of eye contact shared with your lover before he engulfs you in a rough kiss and your moan reaches the heavens, body so sensitive from being away from his touch that you jolt when he wraps an arm around your waist.

“relax, baby,” geto chuckles, speaking against your lips, “take it slow.”

“but i don’t wanna . .” you whine softly, clinging to him in surprise when he pulls a lever next to his seat and the backrest falls all the way down.

“ah!” you grin, “new mod?”

suguru barks out in laughter, “ya caught me. i got it modified yesterday.”

“so you could do dirty things like this?”

he rolls his eyes with a blinding smile, just so, so happy he’s got you back in his arms again, “exactly that.”

the other willingly shows you just what the modification can take, both hands spread out on your ass and pulling you onto his crotch. your core already feels the half-hard bulge under him, using your hips to grind down even more along him. everything feels like too much, after so long away from him that you already feel your high approaching from simply grinding your clit against him and he teases.

“you g’nna cum, already?” he grins slyly, suddenly moving his hips to meet yours that has a broken mewl leaving your throat.

“b—been too long away from you . .” you admit a little sheepishly, using his shirt as an anchor while you continue to grind your cunt into his front, only your panties and his trousers separating the contact of skin. but with how your body jerks in pleasure, you’d think there was nothing between the both of you. “i need you, quick.”

geto says nothing but help you with small pants, the backlighting from the headlines accentuating your figure so nicely that he grunts out your name in between swears, soon stuttering your syllables once he feels you still on his lap with arched back and throbbing cunt. he can feel you, feel you squeezing around him even when he wasn’t in you.

“guess your fingers were pretty crap, h-huh?” massaging your sides, you hum in disapproval at his cheeky smirk, hoping to change that when he lets you do whatever: you pull him up by his shirt and open the door to his car, pushing at him to get out. you don’t day anything and he already knows what you want when you spread your legs, biting his lip at the wet patch on the pretty set you decided to don.

and even with witnessing this sight over and over, you’re never used to the way geto worships you, reveres you, when he kneels down on straight gravel. he doesn’t care if his pants are littered with small specks of dust and dirt, whether he knees start to hurt, but he only has his eyes set on your alluring cunt, finger delicate when he pulls your panties to the side but just brutal when his mouth meets your clit.

“su— s-shit—!” is all you can manage, hearing the other breathe through his nose once his mouth latches on your pussy. it’s something that he hasn’t tasted since long ago, and he’d be damned to let you go again, so he takes the opportunity to savour your arousal, switching between flicking and sucking on your clit like a starved man.

“she tastes so fuckin’ good hmmff—” his eyes meet yours and he feels you squeeze around nothing, making a show of letting you watch how his tongue circles your bud, down to your hole and up again, slurping up your juices sloppily. “i hope this pussy’s missed me as much as i missed her, yeah?”

“y-yeah . .” you moan out softly, legs moving apart more to get more of him, pelvis humping against his face so much that he has to hold it down with a hand. your pre is dripping all over his leather seats and onto the floor, but he makes sure not to spill any more from the way he scoops it up and prods at your entrance.

“let your pussy do the talkin’, baby,” he mumbles drunkenly, pushing in a finger past your walls and the stretch is already so much better than your own. your jaw hangs open in ecstasy, body already bucking and craving for more when he pushes his thicker finger all the way in and it’s no problem for geto to slip the other in, “she’s sucking me in so well, can she do this to my cock too? hm?”

wordlessly, you’re nodding, catching a whisper of good girl before he’s back on your sopping pussy, sucking up and swallowing all of your arousal that it’s downright filthy, the noises echoing throughout the space. geto doesn’t waste any time pumping his digits, moving them in tandem with his tongue.

“s—suguru . .” you whine, struggling to keep your eyes open from the sheer pleasure, and you’re met with the vision that you can never get enough of — your racer boyfriend’s tongue out, hooded lids and soaked chin — and he grants you a little more of euphoria, groaning loudly into your pussy. with each minute, he’s only getting harder, unbelievably so, so your fantasy cut short when he removes his fingers and mouth with a pop! and laughs at your needy whine.

“you’ve been away too long, come,” geto stands to give you a kiss first, letting you taste yourself, “i need to be in you, darlin’.”

and so when he first slips in, it feels like heaven on earth, his leaking tip nudging past your folds and right into your warm cunt that he whines so loudly, long hair falling all about his face and body. you’re not different, nails digging in his skin at the stretch that you’ve missed, cock so much longer and thicker than your fingers.

“t-this is better than any fleshlight, fuuckk . .” he mutters to himself, one hand holding your ankle up and the other holding your bent knee. he’s hoping the modification he made to his car wouldn’t give up on him, because he knows he won’t be able to hold back once you’ve adjusted. but when you start moving earlier than he expects, he doesn’t give you the chance, slamming right up to the hilt until you’re shivering and clenching around him.

“g—god, r-right there, sugu—” you preen, nothing but incoherent and repeated sentences mumbled by you over and over, “feels s’full . .”

“y-yeah? tha’ it?” you don’t need the shitty light of the abandoned parking lot to make you look beautiful, you’re doing it all on your own when your body arches towards him and your legs shiver in his hold, catching glimpses of just how wet you were — juices smeared along your inner thighs, a clear sheen of it along his length, all thanks to the lighting. “so sloppy, huh . . listen to ’er.”

geto emphasises his thrust, in, out, and in, out, just for you to hear your dripping pussy dragging along his shaft, one of the things of yours that makes him go insane.

“all because of you,” you babble mindlessly, fingers expressing your need for him and he listens like he always does, body hovering over yours just to kiss you and because of that he’s thrusting all the more deeper into you as you break the kiss with a loud moan. geto laughs against your lips, hips making quick work to make sure he stays in his new angle, and he’s rewarded with your lewd pleas for him.

he’s ramming into you so perfectly, mushroom tip just barely brushing against your cervix each time that it has your mouth permanently open in pure pleasure.

“well . . you’re the only doll to get me hard and needy like this . .” he chuckles again, kissing down your neck to make sure you get blue and black into your skin, “and i fuckin’ love her for it.”

with a shaky hand you pull on his ruined ponytail, “s-say it again.”

“i love you,” suguru almost whispers, afraid of breaking the silence.

“again . .”

“i love you, sweetheart,” that makes you bend into his hold, undoubtedly.

“again, suguru—”

his hips are relentless, still moving even through his pussydrunk confessions, “i love you— i-i love you, i love you. so, goddamn, much— s-shiiit . .”

“m-me too, su . . i love you— i—” your arms trap him, circling around his neck and making sure he stays close to you and he pushes on your knees more, fat cock fucking into you in a more open mating press, knowing you’re close by how your toes curl and your stomach contracts, by how your pussy flutters around his mouth and soft needy sighs turn into wanton moans. he’s got you mapped out, memorised, all from his devotion to you.

“i know, baby, you’re close, y—yeah?”

he feels you nod, thighs starting to burn from the position but while your pussy keeps sucking him in, he’s sure to continue to slam into you, making sure all four walls of the parking lot hear the obscene sounds of his balls slapping against your ass.

“c’mon, cum with me, princess,” he murmurs, lightheaded with the tightness and warmth of your pussy. it’s a wonder he hasn’t cummed already, sneaking one hand in between your bodies to rub at your clit. your moans are rendered inaudible, only managing pathetic squeaks before you’re tipped over the edge and you’re whimpering so loudly into his car, cum dripping down and out your cunt and right to your ass.

your pussy flutters with geto’s continued thrusts, prompting him to reach his release right after with a deep groan, hips stuttering in your sensitive pussy until he’s spilling his load, white and hot. it’s just so, so goddamn much, stuffing your hole full of his cum that it has no choice to spill and dribble out when he removes his cock, the sight just so mesmerising to him.

“p—please,” your energy is far from used up, turning your body over just so you can present your ass to him. face squished into the driver’s seat, you use both hands to spread your cum-filled pussy, just asking for more and geto only smiles with a certain lilt in his voice. “need more, suguru . .”

“that’s my lovergirl.”

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nereidprinc3ss · 4 months

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relax

in which spencer helps university student reader de-stress after a particularly exhausting assignment

18+ (smut) warnings: fingering, overstimulation, happy crying, lowkey softdom spencer, slight d/s dynamics, reader is referred to as a girl, ????idk i've never had to tag for smut before lols wc: 2624 a/n: been doing some insane literary cooking. lots of smut AND more fluff in the works (all uni reader... lol... ). idk if i love this but again need to fucking get it out of my word doc so here u go, PLEASE lmk if you like it!!

You don’t even realize the room has gone completely dark until Spencer comes in the front door and flicks on the light.

“Why did you do that?” you snap immediately, looking up from your laptop screen for the first time in potentially hours, blinking hard as your eyes painfully adjust. Your boyfriend gives you an odd look.

“Hello to you too...”

“I’m sorry. Hi. How was dinner?”

“It was good,” he says, crossing the room to the couch that has been your entire world for the past five hours. You sigh, releasing some of the tension in your shoulders when he leans down to kiss your head and set down a to-go box on the coffee table. “Have you moved since I left?”

“...no,” you admit, moving your eyes dejectedly to the keyboard.

“You made progress,” he appeases, leaning over you to angle the laptop upward. Immediately you wrench it away, holding it protectively against your chest.

“Stop! I don’t want you to read it yet!”

“I could help you with it though,” he pleads, bracing a hand on the arm of the couch. You look up into his hazel eyes, where he’s definitely playing up the puppy dog factor. His tie brushes your stomach, and he smells like lavender and clove and--

“You need to go away,” you realize, snapping back to reality and shrinking into the couch, away from him—trying to escape his all-encompassing sensory presence.

“Wh- I just got back!” he scoffs, straightening.

“You’re distracting me,” you accuse, throwing him a baleful look.

“I’m literally offering to help you.”

“And I’m respectfully declining because I care too much about your opinion to show you this essay until it’s less terrible. I really just need a couple more hours to finish it, please?”

Spencer sighs, regarding your pitiful state before moving to sit down next to you. Automatically you move your legs out of the way before settling them in his lap and damn it he’s supposed to be going away. Your iron grip on the laptop involuntarily loosens a little as his hands begin to run back and forth over your legs. No—you must stay focused.

“Spencer,” you whine, flopping your head back. You let the implied complaint hang in the air.

“You’ve been writing all day. Your brain is exhausted, and your synapses aren’t firing at a rate that is intellectually productive.”

“What is the point of having a brain if I can’t even use it half the time!” you almost-shout, pressing the palms of your hands into your eyes until you see fireworks.

The couch shifts and you feel the warm, robotic weight of the laptop unpin you as Spencer lifts it from your lap. “Don’t read it,” you beg, watching through parted fingers as he sets it on the coffee table, and relaxing slightly when he settles back into the couch.

“Come here,” he says, holding out an arm. Too mentally exhausted to do anything but comply, you pull yourself up just enough to fall into him. Immediately he wraps his arms around you, one hand slipping under your shirt to rub your back in hypnotizing passes. “I think you burnt yourself out,” he mutters.

You nod into his shoulder, surrendering yourself to his warmth, letting yourself sink into a lavender-clove fog, wanting nothing more than to dissolve into it. The darkness behind your eyes glows an inviting amber, threatening to pull you under...

But the essay...

“Stop thinking about the essay,” he demands.

“But I have so much to do,” you sigh against his jacket, the words coming out muffled.

“The best thing you can do now is give your brain a rest. I promise you you’re not making that paper any better if you’re exhausted.”

“I am not exhausted,” you insist, although your eyes are still closed, “I’m just really stressed.”

Spencer hums, continuing to rub your back.

“Do you need me to help you relax?” he says innocently.

Oh?

One of your eyes opens to peer up at him suspiciously. He sweeps some of your hair out of your face.

“Because I would be happy to.” A moment passes—him looking down at you fondly; you wondering if you’re picking up what he’s putting down.

“And how would you go about doing that?” you ask suspiciously.

“Orgasms reduce tension and stress and improve brain function.”

Damn. Why did the nerdiest, most un-sexy pickup line ever just turn you on?

You groan, burying your face further into his shirt—mostly to hide any trace of a blush.

“You know what else would reduce stress and improve brain functioning? Taking an Adderall and finishing my fucking essay.”

“Angel, you're such a smart girl, and you are fully capable of doing whatever you set your mind to—but I will lock your laptop in my gun safe before I let you look at that essay again tonight.” He speaks so softly, and his fingers are still gently combing through your messy hair... all in all, you put up a good fight, right? Maybe you should just listen to him...

“... fine.” you say eventually, reluctant to give in too quickly even though the idea quickly has filled your stomach with butterflies.

“Fine?” he says, pausing his motions as you turn your head just enough to look up at him. “Sounds like you don’t really want it, baby. Maybe we should just go to sleep. Or I could take you back to your-”

“Spence,” you whine, gently grabbing the front of his shirt. Now he’s going to make you beg? As if it wasn’t his idea? Those puppy dog eyes of his are deceiving.

“You’re gonna have to do better than that,” he sighs, hand moving from your hair to your outer thigh.

“Please?” you whisper, dignity forgotten as you look up at him imploringly.

“Lean back, sweet girl,” he says, helping you adjust your position til you’re lying against his chest, legs sprawled across the couch. Your head lolls on his shoulder, intoxicated by his close proximity. “Perfect. Such a good listener.”

Normally, you’d be quick to make a defensive remark, but with the way he’s slowly hiking your shirt up, running his hands over your sides so lightly it gives you goosebumps—you're really in no position to argue. Your eyes flutter shut as his hands grow bolder in their explorations, crossing your stomach, fingers just slipping under the waistband of your shorts and skimming over your hipbones before coming back up.

“Does that feel good?” he murmurs, and you nod lazily, apparently losing access to your language facilities after running them dry all day. Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem good enough for your boyfriend. “Do you remember when the last time I touched you like this was?”

Through the hazy blur of your exhaustion, you try to think back. Was it... two days ago? Three? More?

“Almost a week ago,” he supplies the answer for you when you take too long. What? That can’t be right.

But when you think about it harder... it is right. It was right before finals week started.

An errant hand straying up your torso distracts you. “Do you remember what I did?”

You flush.

“You... yeah,” is the best you can offer, too flustered to say exactly what he did to your body. That stray hand moves over your breast. Your back arches just slightly at the stimulation through the thin fabric of your bra.

Thankfully, he lets you off the hook.

“I made you cum three times, right?”

“Mhm,” you hum through closed lips, tense with anticipation as he finally slides both hands down to your shorts and wordlessly directs you to lift your hips so he can pull them all the way off along with your underwear.

“You’ve been so busy lately, huh. Working so hard.”

You unconsciously drop your bent legs open, brain too foggy to be insecure about how utterly bare you are—allowing him to slowly rub up and down your inner thigh.

“I’m gonna make you feel good, honey. I don’t think three times was enough for such a stressful week.”

You gasp when his fingers finally brush your clit, whimpering slightly when they just barely skim your entrance before tracing the wetness back up.

“Give me your hand,” Spencer says, taking his own from between your legs and holding it up. You don’t even think about it, releasing your grip on the arm he now has wrapped around you and holding it out for him. At this point, you’d do anything he tells you to without hesitation.

He takes the proffered hand, gently guiding it back between your legs. Your fingers meet slick, soft warmth. “Do you feel how wet you are?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, seeing how your fingers glisten when you pull them away. His remain, running slowly up and down your clit. Your brain seems to be vibrating in your skull as warmth spreads throughout your body.

“Who’s that for?”

“You, Spencer,” you whimper. He hums in approval before the room falls into silence as you both watch his teasing intently, your breath baited as you try to be patient. But your body isn’t with the program, you keep twisting slightly, your hips cant upward. “Please, please,” the words escape on a held exhalation as you finally break, arching your back against him as your search for more friction.

Without warning, he sinks two fingers inside you. The slight stretch after not having taken anything in a week scratches an itch you didn’t even know you had, and you let out a broken moan.

“I know, honey. You’re so good, I know.” Spencer kisses your head as he speaks over your cry, barely moving his fingers for a few moments while you get comfortable.

Still you’re not ready for it when he withdraws and pushes back in.

“Look at that,” he breathes.

“Oh, fuck,” you choke, watching how your arousal completely coats his fingers as he slowly, slowly begins to fuck you with them.

Again you feel the vibrations in his chest as he laughs slightly—probably at your earlier insistence that you didn’t desperately want this. The laughter fades as you both become entranced by the sight of his fingers disappearing into you, and your stomach twists with pleasure. His pace remains languid, and he seems to delight in the filthy, wet sounds his hand is producing between your legs.

“You okay, baby?” he asks after a moment, seemingly snapping out of some trance.

“Uh huh,” you whimper. One particular drag of his fingers at just the right angle has you dizzy, and then he’s speeding up. Your jaw drops at the change in pace and your hips chase his hand, wanting even more.

“So pretty,” he mutters as his other hand moves to spread you open.

You attempt to shut your legs around his wrist, but instead he just ruts his fingers deeper into you, palm pressed against your clit. You attempt to twist away from the extreme stimulation, but he doesn’t allow it.

“Too much,” you squeak, bucking your hips inadvertently.

“No it’s not,” he states, like you’re talking about the weather.

“Spencer, I really c- ah- can't!”

“It feels like a lot, huh?” he asks soothingly, not letting up one bit.

“Yes!” you cry, eyes stinging as tears begin to well.

“You’re okay, angel. It’s just been a while.”

You are so completely fucked. Each stroke of his hand feels like an electric jolt through your whole body. It is too much, but at the same time, pleasure is pooling deep in your stomach and at the base of your spine and you never want him to stop. You throw your head back onto Spencer’s shoulder, eyes screwed shut.

“Relax,” he mutters, carefully bearing down the pressure across your waist with his arm to try and keep you from squirming.

A rhythmic whine breaks through the barrier of your sealed lips as you focus all your energy into taking it, when the all-consuming need to kiss him hits you. You twist your neck to look up at him, observing the furrow of his brow and the way he’s tucked his bottom lip into a bite. Thankfully he notices your movement—his eyes dart from your own half-lidded gaze to your lips and he understands what you want.

The kiss is messy and the angle is awkward and you’re moaning into his mouth half the time anyway, but it feels so good to have his lips moving on yours that you don’t care about any of it.

“I—ah,” you cry into him, unable to form a coherent thought as your stomach drops like you’re mounting the peak of a roller coaster.

His fingers again change their angle and he finds the spot inside you that makes your legs spasm. Attempting to hold in whatever noises you were making is now futile—the whimpers and pants turn to full-fledged keening moans interspersed with taut silences as you fail to breathe properly.

Your wrench your gaze and lips away from Spencer to watch through a blurry haze the rapid movement of his hand between your bare legs, the way your hips buck and twist and the way your leg bends as he hooks his free hand under your knee and hoists it toward your chest.

“You’re doing so well, honey. Being so good for me.”

Moisture spills over from your eyes, tracing down your cheeks and down your neck as you begin to come with no warning and a desperate, broken cry.

A string of praise from Spencer underscores your pleading moans, but you can’t focus on anything other than the buzzing warmth emanating from your core, the bright, pulsing white that blinds you and the feeling of stardust flowing through your veins.

Your boyfriend continues pumping his fingers slowly in and out of you for a blissful few moments, before sensing the tail-end of your orgasm and bringing his fingers up to rub lazy circles over your clit. Aftershocks resonate from the hypersensitive area and make you clamp your legs shut around his hand as your toes curl and you attempt to squirm out of his grip.

“Done! I’m done,” you squeak, rocking your hips back and forth to try and escape his toying.

“Okay, okay,” he soothes, relieving the pressure of his hand between your legs and moving it to run over your stomach as you come down.

You lie in silence for a minute, enjoying the liquid sensation weighing down your muscles and basking in the warm afterglow of your orgasm.

“Shit,” you breathe shakily after a moment. Spencer chuckles. You manage to turn yourself over, laying your cheek on his shoulder and slipping your arms under his waist. He looks down at you as he moves on to massaging your back and bare hips, eyes full of warm adoration.

“Feel better?”

You hum an affirmation, wiping your eyes on his shirt.

“Oh, honey, did I make you cry?”

You laugh into his chest and nod, a few stray tears leaking from your shut eyes. “It’s okay. Not sad tears.”

“What kind of tears?”

“Orgasm tears,” you mumble, a tidal wave of exhaustion you’d been fighting all day finally washing over you.

“That makes sense. Orgasms can be cathartic or even therapeutic depending on your head space. Major losses and life changes are often associated with sexual dysfunction but the opposite is actually just as if not more common. A spike in libido can—”

Spencer pauses, looking down to see that you’re either asleep or close to it, and smiles to himself. You’ll probably be mad about it when you wake up, but he had to get you to stop thinking about that paper somehow.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds imagine

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buckys-wintersoldier · 14 days

Text

Light after Dark | Bucky Barnes

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 -> Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀��𝐘 -> You ex-boyfriend never treated you well but when Bucky steps into your life it changes and he shows you how much he loves you. Would the behaviour you had with your ex-boyfriend be there because Bucky looks distanced.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 10.057 (it’s long but worth it, guess so)

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> (E) 18+, Minors DNI, angst, abusing ex-boyfriend, violence, slapping, shouting, wound/scars because of abuse, smut, non/dub-con, manipulation, blowjob, deep throating, nipple play, handjob (male!receiving), cum eating, fingering (fem!receiving), oral (fem!receiving), protected p in v, multiple orgasm, belly bulge, praises, fluff

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓 -> Hello hello! It's me, again. Got bit of an angsty idea. Let's say that reader has an abusive ex, and this dude was physically and emotionally draining. She never had a single nice thought about herself in three years. She always thought she had big thighs, or wide hips etc etc. And let's say that she does have some scars from her ex, whenever he used to beer bottles at her they'd crash and cut her. She always thought she was not worthy, because he used to cheat on her all the time. Now, presently, we're with Bucky. And nowadays Bucky has been a little irritated and distant. And you think the worse, and your defense mechanism come up. Back with your ex, you used to cook good food and make so much effort (but your asshole ex never bothered) Bucky is confused why there's whole royal course of a meal on the table when he comes home. You don't want to point out the obvious and say it's for nothing, but it's really because you don't want him to leave. Bucky knows something is up, but how does he approach the situation???🤭🤭🤭This was pretty long lol (Again you don't have to write this if you’re uncomfy😌😌) Okie BYE!! @amathslutsguidetofandom

𝐀/𝐍 -> Thank you so much for the request. I absolutely love it and I hope you like what I made with that. Also wanna thank my best friend @imtryingbuck for listening to me, and helping me with some parts during writing.

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐁𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

“Come one, can’t you get your shit together? It’s not that hard,” he shouted at you, throwing his hands up while he looked at you.

His expression was disgusted, and he was disappointed — because of you, like he always was. You just asked him to help you with the plates, but he was annoyed, mad that you couldn’t do it without annoying him. You didn’t want to annoy him; it was never your intention, but you’re tired — working hard in the household every day, sleeping only half of the night — and he never appreciates what you did. He wanted to have a meal — a proper meal — but you presented him with something he didn’t want to eat that day. How could you dare to cook soup when he wants meat?

“Take your plate and sit on the floor,” he told you, pointing next to him on the ground.

“P—please. I’m sorry,” you whimpered.

He rolled his eyes, and not even now have you done what he told you. Alex placed his hand on your shoulder, pushing you down until you were sitting next to him on the floor. He used his hand under your chin to tilt your head up, forcing you to lock in with him. Alex let go of your chin, smirking at you before his hand met your cheek painfully. You hissed, tears building in your eyes, but you swallowed harshly and looked down on your plate, which was lying in front of you.

“Shut your mouth. I don’t wanna hear a fucking word."

Your body started to tremble, but you stayed quiet. Alex laughed, turning to the plate in front of him and sliding the spoon through it a few times. He hadn’t tried the soup you cooked; he stared at the plate. That’s nothing a person like him would eat; Alex deserved better than soup. He deserved to be treated well. He turned his face, seeing you sitting in the same position since he smacked your face. You weren’t saying a word; your hands were shaking, and you tried to hide your tears. He took the plate in one of his hands, holding it above you. With a sadistic expression, he let the soup fall down on you.

“Oh— sorry. I forgot you’re not the trash,” he said.

You whimpered, feeling the hot liquid covering your body and burning your skin. Alex watched you and the way the soup soaked your clothes. He then stood up and pushed you to the side; you were curled up in yourself, crying silently while he just kicked you. Alex walked out of the kitchen, leaving you a whimpering and crying mess lying on the ground. Alex just left the house when you started crying more.

Almost half of the night you were lying on the ground, your body trembling, and you cried until there was no tear left anymore. You loved that man; you feel in love with him because he was caring; he made you feel good and appreciated you. But you feel like you were the reason for him being the way he is now. Maybe you were too fat, maybe your food wasn’t good, maybe you didn’t do things like you should do then? You often thought about it already — sleepless nights while Alex was sleeping next to you, smelling like a bottle of alcohol itself while he wrapped his arm around your waist.

Somewhere in the night, you heard the keys in the door. Your body tensed immediately while you pretend to be sleeping on the couch. Alex knew you weren't, and even when he would wake you up, he was drunk and frustrated.

“Babe, come here now. You little bitch,” he shouted through the house, and you sat up. “I won’t repeat myself, slut.”

You slowly walked toward him, holding your arms tightly around your body to cover yourself a bit. He grinned when he saw you walking closer to him; you look so small, while he felt so good looking at your scared form in front of him. Alex was holding a bottle of beer in his hand, and he took a sip, groaning when he noticed that the bottle was empty.

“Alex, y—you should go to bed,” you mumbled, and he raised his eyebrow.

You dared to say something, telling him what he had to do. He didn’t think twice when he lifted the bottle and smashed it against your head. The glass broke and left a bloody wound on your head. You whimpered and tried to hide the tears from rolling down your cheeks, but he saw it, and it made him chuckle even more. Now you knew that you shouldn’t tell him what to do, or else Alex would show you that you were his own little toy to treat and fuck you however he wanted.

“Get on your knees.”

“P—please. C—can I just clean the wound?”

“Get on your knees, or I will give you more than just this one to clean. Fucking little bitch,” he hissed, grabbing your chin harshly.

You whined, trying to turn your face away, but he was too strong for you. So you needed to look directly into his eyes while he leaned closer, and you smelled his breath — which smelled like nothing but alcohol. You pushed the urge to look disgusted away, but when he leaned even closer and captured your lips with his, you tried to pull away from him. His tongue slid over your lips, and when you weren’t parting your lips, he just smacked your cheek to make you hiss in pain. Then you opened your mouth, and he was able to guide his tongue into it. You felt disgusted, but you loved him, and when it was what he wanted, you wouldn’t deny it; otherwise, he would still do it. He has control over your relationship, as he showed you. Alex pulled away from you, leaving you panting while he smirked and pushed you down on your knees.

“Suck my fucking dick. Other girls would beg me to suck it, so why are you complaining about my dick, huh? Thinking you’re pretty? You’re not; have you seen your ugly, fat thighs? I would be ashamed to show them someone,” he said, and you nodded.

You didn’t stop the tears from rolling down your cheeks; you felt so ashamed and embarrassed for looking the way you do. With shaking hands, you gasped his belt and unbuckled it. Opening his pants before you shoved them down his legs. You saw the outline of his dick in his pants, but he wasn’t hard. When you looked at his dick a moment too long for his liking, he cleared his throat, grasped your hair, and pushed you closer.

“Do you really think I will be turned on when I see you? You’re just a little ugly slut,” he said, laughing about the tears in your eyes.

You knew you weren't the most beautiful person, but even when you heard that for three years now, it was still hurtful. Alex always told you that he could have everyone, that everyone wanted to be with him, but he was together with you, even when it’s just because you couldn’t be without him — that’s what he was always saying.

You pushed his boxers down as well, revealing his soft cock. Alex took his shaft in his hand, stroking himself a few times before he pulled you closer and tapped his dick against your lips. You opened your mouth slightly, and when he managed to push into you, he immediately rammed his dick down your throat. He never paid attention to how you felt when you had sex; he didn’t care. You gagged around his length, trying to get used to it, but he had already started to thrust into you. His cock always slid down your throat, and his balls slapped against your chin. His hand in your hair guided you over his cock, and he slapped your cheeks a few times, causing more tears in your eyes.

“You’re such a fucking little slut, aren’t you? That’s the only thing you can do. Sucking my cock."

Your nails were digging into your tights, trying to ground you while he held you on his cock. He was deep in your mouth and throat, and you tried not to panic, but when he didn’t let you pull back, you wiggled softly, trying to move away from his length. But he didn’t let you move away; he was holding you with his cock in your mouth in place. When he was finally letting go of you, you pulled away and breathed deeply, crying quietly, while he grabbed your chin once again. His eyes darkened as he looked into yours. And you knew you shouldn’t have tried to pull away from him.

“Do you wanna kidding me? Making a scene like that?” He asked, looking disappointed at you.

He didn’t wait for an answer before he pushed his dick back inside your mouth. His hips thrusted forward, he groaned, and you felt his dick twitch in your mouth just before he came in your mouth. His cum was sliding down your throat, and he pulled away, smacking your face again before he pointed toward the couch.

“A—Alex.”

“Can’t you just keep your mouth shut? You annoy me. You’re my girlfriend, and your boyfriend wants to fuck you now.”

When you woke up next to your boyfriend, your pussy was aching. He fucked you rough, never minding if it would hurt you or if you enjoyed this sex too. You were slowly getting up, and you felt disgusted with the mixture of sweat and cum on your body. So you walked to the bathroom, trying to be as quiet as possible to not wake him. You really needed a hot shower, so you did exactly that. A hot, relaxing shower was perfect for your arching pussy and your tensed muscles, but when you heard Alex shouting that the breakfast wasn’t ready, you panicked again. You should have done the breakfast first and then thought about a shower. He swung the door of your shared bathroom open, narrowing his eyebrows.

“Do you think you could take a shower before making breakfast for me?” He asked, and you shook your head.

“I’m sorry—“

He walked closer, towering over you and pulling the towel away, leaving you naked in front of him. Alex looked your body up and down, slapping your breast and causing you to gasp.

“Have you looked into the mirror? Look how ugly you are, and your pussy, only great because she is still tight,” he said, turning around to took a shower as well.

You wrapped your arms around your body, trying to cover it. He is right; you’re ugly, and you can’t even look at yourself in the mirror. Your body is covered with scars — scars he caused with beer bottles or when he just hit you hard enough. You bent down to lift your towel, wrapping it around you, and got out of the bathroom to change into leggings and a t-shirt. Then you made your way to the kitchen, preparing some breakfast for the two of you.

It didn’t take long until Alex walked into the kitchen. He smirked at you when you looked so small compared to him since you tried to make yourself small around him. And especially because he can see the respect or more fear you have in your eyes when you look at him. You placed the plates on the table, both of you taking a seat, and you ate in silence; you didn’t want to annoy him. When he was finished, he looked at you, shoving his plate closer to you.

"You already made better food. I want you to clean until I come home from the meeting,” he told you.

“Oke,” you said, taking the plates to put them in the other dishes to clean them later.

Alex went to work, and you needed to clean. You weren’t really motivated to do so, but you didn’t want him to be angry at you again. So you started in the kitchen and then went to the living room. When you were almost finished, you heard Alex coming back home, and your muscles were immediately tensed.

“Lunch?”

“I cleaned and haven’t-“

“I don’t mind. You have to bring lunch to the table, and you didn’t once again,” he said.

“Thought I told you that when you’re not doing what I said, I will break up. You want that? No? But you did it, no. Lazy ass didn’t do what she was told.”

You whimpered, but he shook his head, pointing to the door of the apartment. And grasped your arm to pull you closer to the door. It was raining outside, and you knew he didn’t mind; he would let you wait outside until he allowed you to come back into the apartment. Alex went back inside and left you in front of the door. Your clothes were immediately soaked because of the rain, and you felt the cold all over your body. You were freezing, but he wouldn't let you into the apartment until he wasn't mad anymore. So you sat on the ground, your back against the wall, and your legs were pulled against you while you wrapped your arms around them. You cried quietly, trying to warm yourself up a bit while the cold rain was wetting your whole body.

"Hi, are you oke? Aren't you freezing?" A soft voice asked, and you looked at the man in front of you.

He was kneeling, offering you his hand, but you just smiled at him. He saw that it wasn't a real one, but he didn't want to pressure you. His brown hair was as wet as you were, but he didn't mind. He also didn't mind taking off his jacket and placing it over your shoulders.

"Thank you," you mumbled.

"I'm Bucky, and you?" He asked softly, his hand resting on your knees.

The warmth of his body warmed you a bit as well, and his steel blue eyes and the smile on his lips warmed your heart. You admired his blue eyes; he looked soft and beautiful.

"I'm Y/N"

"And what is a pretty girl like you doing outside in the rain?"

You blushed and turned your face away. Bucky smirked, looking at you, while he tried to find out why you were sitting there with a bruise on your pretty face. He hadn't seen that one before, but when he did, he reached out to slide his fingers over your face to turn it toward him. You hissed, trying to escape his fingers even when his touch was way softer than Alex's. Bucky removed his hand and waited until you were ready to face him again.

"I'm sorry; I didn't know I would scare you. I don't want to hurt you, but where are the bruises from?" He asked, and you shook your head.

"Nothing, really. I just- I just walked against the counter yesterday. I was stupid and ignored the open door of the counter. And I'm sitting here because I forgot my keys," you tell him.

Bucky nodded. He didn't really believe you, but he didn't want to push you either. When he noticed someone opening the door behind you, he got up to face the person behind you.

"You little slut, didn't I tell you to get pizza?" Alex asked, ignoring Bucky, who furrowed his eyebrows.

"Alex, you didn't say that you wanted pizza," you said quietly, looking at your hands.

"Don't dare to talk back, or you can spend the rest of the night here as well," he shouted at you, and you flinched.

Bucky's jaw was clenching when he saw the way Alex treated you, and when you got up from where you were sitting, Bucky reached out to grab your shoulder and pushed you behind him. Alex was laughing about it; his eyes were piercing into Bucky's.

"Do you think someone like him would treat you better? You're nothing but slut, a dumb little bitch," he said to you even when he was looking at Bucky.

You whimpered softly, but before you were able to say something, you saw Bucky's arm flying forward, and a moment later, your boyfriend was walking backwards, his hand covering his nose while he hissed in pain. Bucky just broke his nose with one punch, and you saw the blood slowly running down his chin, and Alex's hand was covered in it as well. You weren't sure if you felt scared or thankful that Bucky protected you for your boyfriend.

"Fucking slut. I'm gonna break up with you; fuck your new lover; he won't love you the way I loved you," he said, shutting the door and leaving you with Bucky in front of it.

Bucky turned around, seeing you crying, and, with widening eyes, looking at him broke his heart. He didn't want to scare you more, but he was just too angry at Alex for treating you the way he did. Bucky smiled nicely, opening his arms for you to decide if you wanted him to hug you or not. You hesitated a moment, but his warmth and the way he protected you made you crave more. So you walked closer toward him and let him wrap his arms around your shoulders, pulling you as close as possible. You placed your hand on his chest, inhaling his sweet-mint scent, and closed your eyes for a moment.

For the first time in years, you felt saved and loved. Someone could really like you the way you are. Bucky didn't know you, but he gave you the warmth you never got from your ex-boyfriend. His touches were soft, and you enjoyed the warmth and softness of them.

"You will come home with me. You can sleep in my bed then; I prefer the floor in the living room," Bucky said.

You were freezing, and when Bucky already offered you his bed and maybe a warm shower, you would definitely say yes. So you nodded softly, and Bucky lifted you up, his hands resting under your thighs, and you wrapped your legs around his waist while you placed your hands around his neck. You looked at him with a smirk, and Bucky grinned just as much as you did. Only then did you realise his beautiful blue eyes, which light up when he smiles, like he did.

"Can I take a shower then as well? And Bucky, I think I'm too heavy for you to carry me home," you say quietly.

"You can also take a long, warm bath if you want to. And don't worry, you're not too heavy for me," he chuckled and gave you some butterflies in your stomach, causing you to giggle softly.

"I'm home, doll," Bucky shouts through the apartment you both live in now.

Bucky takes off his jacket and shoes and makes his way into the kitchen. He inhales the smell of the food deeply, smiling when he sees the plates filled with his favourite food on the table. He walks around the table, wrapping his arms around your waist, and pulls you flat against his broad chest. Bucky places his chin on your shoulder and looks at you while you're cooking.

When Bucky picked you up that day, you met him for the first time. He brought you to his home, and like he said, you were allowed to take a long, warm bath, and you slept in his bed. It was the first time in forever that you felt safe. Bucky made breakfast in the morning — a lot of breakfast because he wasn't sure what you liked to eat, so he made pancakes and French toast, and he offered you cereal. When you finished the dinner, he asked you to look over your wounds, and when you allowed him to do so, he picked you up to carry you into the bathroom and placed you on the edge of the bathtub. Bucky slowly moved his fingers over your thighs, and when you looked away because you were ashamed, he told you how beautiful you are.

Bucky took off your shirt, revealing a lot of scars and wounds all over your body. The hiss that left his lips made you flinch, but he assured you that he was just shocked that such a beautiful person like you has an ex-boyfriend like Alex. Bucky cleaned all your wounds; he didn't say that you were ugly. His words surprised you every time because he always admired your body, and he still does. The two of you came closer when Bucky offered you to stay with him, so you both would have someone, and you said yes, but your behaviour with your ex-boyfriend needed time to slowly fade away.

Bucky was really confused when you were always up before him when you made the meals and always studied his expression to see if it was good or not. With time, Bucky learned to tell you that the food is good, that he would like to cook with you together, and that he is going to help you with the dishes. Bucky took care to always tell you when he got home and to tell you what he would like to eat, or he told you to decide. When you were unsure, Bucky helped you decide, but he never pressured you. His only intention was to make you happy because he could never get enough of your beautiful smile.

Whenever you were looking into the mirror and a disgusted expression was on your face while a few tears fell down your cheeks — you wanted to be at least a bit handsome — Bucky smirked and was standing next to you, and he wiped your tears away with his thumbs. He took off his shirt and showed you the scars on his own body. The bunch of scars around his metal arm, but also the others. He showed you a side of himself that was also just a broken man, and you fell in love with that side just as much as you fell in love with the strong Bucky who would punch everyone to protect you.

When you suddenly got woken up by a scream and you were scared your ex-boyfriend was shouting at you, you needed a moment to remember that you were with Bucky. It confused you at first why you heard a scream, but when you heard another and then a noise that sounded like a punch, you got up to find Bucky sleeping on the floor in the living room. It wasn't new to you to see him lying there, but when you saw the tears rolling down his cheeks and the sweat on his forehead, you walked closer to place your hand on his shoulder. He woke up immediately and tried to wipe the tears away, but everything in his body told you that he had a really bad nightmare. You sat in his lap; your arms were around his neck, and you were sliding your fingers through his soft brown hair. Bucky had his face hidden in the crock of your neck. You being close to him is just as helpful for him as his being close to you to feel safe and comfortable.

You never judge him for having nightmares, for not being comfortable around too many people, or for struggling with his scars and mental health sometimes. And he gives you the same; he never dares to judge you. Bucky tries to show you how beautiful you are, that you're worth it, and that you are and can be more than you think. And he loves you the way you are, just like you love him the way he is.

Slowly, you get used to being good the way you are, and Bucky will never shout at you or hurt you. But for a while, he has looked irritated and distant. He comes home late, and even when he says it's nothing, you feel like you have done something that makes him mad or that he loves you less. So you try to be better, clean the apartment more often, cook what he loves, and try not to be too clingy around him.

"It smells beautiful," he says, kissing your neck softly.

You lean into his touch, smiling, while you finish the dinner. His hands are trailing up and down your sides, and you feel the goosebumps erupting all over your body. You love his soft, warm touches, his kiss all over your neck, and the way his breath hits your soft skin.

"There is something in the oven," you say, and Bucky takes a step back to walk to the oven. "You can just take a seat; dinner is almost done."

Bucky looks slightly confused. Usually, you wouldn't mind his help, but for a few days, you don't ask or let him help you with food and dishes anymore. You cook a lot of what he loves, and the meals are almost royalty meals. He doesn't mind eating your food because he loves what you do, but he wonders why you suddenly act like you did when he first met you. He walks around the table and takes his seat. He looks at you with a soft smile, but he still doesn't understand why you put so much effort into cleaning and cooking.

"How come you cook such royal meals?" He asks softly but sees you flinch.

You constantly feel like you have done something wrong; maybe that's not what Bucky likes? Maybe you shouldn't have cooked that? Bucky wants, probably, a pizza. You feel the tears building in your eyes, and when you turn around, you see Bucky's smile fading away. He looks with a worried expression at you while he gets up and walks closer to you. You shake your head, walking backwards and crashing into the kitchen counter behind you.

"Doll, can I please come closer? I can stand here when you feel comfortable, but please let me come closer," he says, and you hesitate a moment.

Bucky stands a few meters away from you, waiting for you to allow him to come closer. When you nod slightly, Bucky steps closer and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you as close as possible against him. Your head rests against his broad chest, and your tears are soaking his t-shirt while he holds you tightly.

"B—Bucky I'm sorry. I didn't want to make the wrong food. I cleaned the house today; please don't be mad for not cleaning enough," you say quietly.

"Shhh. Doll, you didn't do anything wrong; why do you think that?"

"B—Because you look so distant. Don't you love me anymore? Am I too ugly or too fat? I—I can do a diet."

Bucky's eyes widen, and he slides his hands down to your thighs and picks you up. He shoves the pots away from the cooker. He then turns around and carries you to the bedroom of the two of you. Your arms are wrapped around his neck, and you try to wipe the tears away when he places you on the bed. Bucky stands in front of you and smirks softly, then he gets on his knees in front of you. His hands slide up and down your thighs until he reaches the hem of your shirt.

"I love you. I love you so much. And the missions with Sam were really exhausting, especially because John is always trying to tell us what we have to do. But I love you so much, and you are beautiful exactly the way you are. You're not fat or ugly; you're perfect the way you are," Bucky tells you. He then pushes you down and towers over you with a wide smile on his lips.

Bucky captures your lips with his soft and plumb ones, his hands sliding along your sides, and you sigh softly into the kiss. Bucky deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping through your barely parted lips, and he groans when you place your hands in his soft hair and tug at them softly.

You've never had sex with Bucky; he didn't pressure you since you were uncomfortable with it because of your ex-boyfriend. But right now, it feels perfect — the way Bucky has his lips on yours and his hands all over your body. You feel a heat in your lower stomach, which makes its way between your legs, and you can't help but moan about the feeling. When Bucky pulls slightly away, your eyes widen but are filled with lust, the pleasure written on in your expression, and Bucky smiles about it. He kisses down your jawline and to your neck, biting softly and licking over your soft skin.

"Bucky, please," you whimper.

He smirks, kissing your lips once again, before he plays with the hem of your shirt and pushes it up. You sit up, letting him remove the fabric from your body, and he groans about the way you look underneath him with lust in your eyes. Bucky kisses your collarbone, down to your breasts, and unclasps your bra so you can take it off as well. His big hands capture your breasts, palming them softly, and he earns soft moans from you. Bucky licks a strap down to one of your nipples; he kisses it softly before he takes it into his mouth, his tongue twirling around your nipple. You arch your back, pressing yourself more against your boyfriend, who chuckles.

"You're beautiful, doll," he mumbles, nibbling at the soft skin of your breast.

You blush and hide your face with your hands, giggling softly. Bucky looks at you, grasping your hands and pulling them away from your face. He leans closer to kiss your lips softly.

"Don't hide that pretty face of yours. You’re so beautiful; I wanna see you, please," Bucky says, pouting, and you smirk.

You lean closer and peck at his lips, just as softly as he did. Bucky moves his lips down your collarbone and to your other breast, kissing around your nipple before he takes it in his mouth as well. Suckling softly and scratching his teeth over the sensitive skin. You moan, tugging at his hair and pulling him even closer. Bucky slides his hands from your breasts down your stomach, kissing the way down and giving every inch of your soft skin attention.

“Do you want it? If not, we can wait until you’re ready to have sex with me,” Bucky says, his fingers playing with the waistband of your pants.

“I want it, please, Bucky. I need you,” you mumble, blushing once again.

“You’re cute when you blush,” he chuckles.

Bucky opens your pants, trailing his fingers along your skin while he pushes your pants down. He then kisses the way back to your belly and smirks when you wiggle in anticipation. He pushes himself up, removing his shirt as well as his pants, before he leans over you again. You can see his growing bulge in his boxers, and the outline of his cock is visible. A little wet spot forms where his tip is, and you reach out your hand to touch his cock.

“Wanna touch it, babydoll?” He asks, and you nod, your eyes focused on his covered cock.

Bucky grins, getting up the bed once again, and pushes his boxers down. His cock springs free and slaps against his stomach; the red tip is leaking with pre-cum, and you see the vein running along the underside of his shaft. Bucky gets on the bed next to you. You sit up, looking directly into his eyes, while he smiles at you. You slide your fingers over his abs and to the base of his cock. Bucky looks at your fingers, his hand wrapping around yours, and he brings both of your hands to his shaft.

“It’s oke, doll. I won’t do anything unless you want me to,” he says, leaning closer to kiss you before he wraps your hand around his shaft.

You smile when you feel the softness of his length. He is huge, but with Bucky, you feel safe, and you know he wouldn’t do anything when you say you don’t want him to do so. His hand lets go of yours.

For a moment, you just look at his cock in your hand and the way his pre-cum is leaking down his tip. It’s glistening softly, and you swipe your thumb over his slit, smearing the cum all over his tip. Bucky groans softly, smiling when you slowly move your hand up and down his shaft.

“Do you like that?”

“It feels wonderful, babydoll.”

You giggle, swiping your thumb a few more times about his tip until Bucky can’t hold back and thrusts forward into your hand. His eyes widen, and he looks at you, but there is no discomfort, so he relaxes and lets you continue to massage his dick.

“C—Can I touch your balls?” You ask, cheeks heating up.

Bucky nods, and you look at his balls before you use your other hand to bring it to his balls, taking them into your hand. They are soft, and you roll them in your palm, causing Bucky to groan.

“Babydoll, you’re doing so well for me. But when you continue, I won’t last long,” Bucky says.

You grin, moving your hand faster and wrapping it tighter around his shaft. Your other hand is massaging his balls, and when you swipe your thumb once again over his tip, Bucky grasps the sheets and thrusts his hips forward.

“Doll,” he says, looking deeply into your eyes.

The blue lights up when he smirks; they are slightly darkened because of the lust, but they show you nothing but love. When you stroke his cock a few more times, Bucky throws his head back and comes into your hand. He breathes heavily, and sweat is covering his forehead. His seeds are covering his tip and your hand, and for a moment he is worried that you could feel uncomfortable with it. But you just stroke him until he comes down from his high, and then you look at your hand, his cum slowly dropping from it, and you move it to your mouth, so you lick a bit of it away, moaning softly at its salty taste.

“It tastes good,” you smirk, tapping his cock again, and Bucky moans.

When Bucky catches his breath, he pushes you back down so you lay next to him. He spreads your thighs and slides his fingers up and down your thighs further until he reaches your panties. Your face is turned toward him, and he’s focused on your expression, making sure you’re oke. When you nod softly, Bucky guides his hand over your panties and caresses your fold through the fabric. You moan softly; he knows how to touch a woman to make her feel good; he immediately hits your clit and you buck your hips. He then slides his fingers further down, feeling your panties damp, and he smirks.

“Can I take your panties off?” He asks, and you nod, but place your hands on his cheek and press your lips on his.

Bucky moves his lips perfectly against yours; he’s deepening the kiss before he kisses your neck and collarbone before his focus is back on your panties. His fingers circle your clit through the fabric, and you moan quietly, arching your back. Bucky takes the waistband of your panties between his fingers and pulls them down, revealing your pussy. He rolls himself on top of you before he pushes you further down in the bed by your hips. He is then lying between your thighs and smirking at you.

“You’re so wet and so beautiful,” he says, placing a kiss on your pussy.

Bucky’s eyes are focused on your pussy, his fingers trialing through your folds, and he parts them slightly. Using his tongue to lick along them to your clit. Circling around your sensitive spot before he sucks at it softly, making you gasp. You have never felt so much pleasure during sex, and Bucky hasn’t really touched you yet. His fingers trail back down to your soaked entrance. He pushes his digit against it, smirking at the way you push yourself more against his finger.

“You’re cute when you’re desperate for more, doll,” he says, placing his lips once again on your clit.

One of your hands finds its way to his hair, tugging at it and pulling Bucky closer to your cunt. He chuckles against your pussy, causing vibration, and you whine. He slowly pushes one of his fingers into you while his other hand holds you down by your hips. You only then know that he used his metal hand to push inside of you. The sudden cold of his finger feels great compared to the heat in your pussy. Bucky thrusts his finger in and out of you, smirking about the way your pussy is clenching around his digit and sucking him inside. His mouth doesn’t let go of your clit while he does so, enjoying the sounds that are leaving your lips. They are like music, and he could listen to your soft moans all day.

“Bucky— please. It feels so good.”

“You’re tasting so sweet, doll. Can’t get enough of your pussy.”

You smirk, throwing your head back when he adds another finger and pushes them as much as he can into your tight hole. You’re soaking his fingers, and when he curls them, he finds your sweet spot. The moan that leaves your lips is erotic, and you look at him with shock in your eyes about that sound.

“Don’t worry, doll. Just found your sweet spot,” Bucky chuckles, licking down your folds to your entrance.

His tongue joins your fingers, and his lapping at your entrance swallows all your juice. His fingers curl inside of you, hitting always your sweet spot, and you feel the knot in your stomach growing. You haven’t felt a pleasure like that in years, but Bucky is so soft with you; he never says anything bad about you or your body. Bucky loves you; he loves your body; and he shows you that, every day, he makes sure you know how much you’re loved by him and that you’re the most beautiful woman for him.

“I feel soy squeezing my fingers; if you wanna come, then do it. Come all over my fingers, doll,” he says, placing his mouth back at your entrance.

His words, the way his tongue is working over your folds, and the way his fingers are always hitting your sweet spot make you come. Your cum is floating out of you, but Bucky doesn’t dare to miss a bit of it and takes it all. Eating you out like it’s the most delicious meal he's ever had. And he fucks you with his fingers and his tongue through your orgasm; your breath hitches whenever his tongue slides over your folds. Your pussy feels so sensitive, but Bucky is so soft. He earns more soft moans until he pulls his fingers out of you and kisses your clit once more before he places his chin on your lower stomach and smirks at you.

“How are you feeling, pretty girl?”

“Great, thank you. And you?”

Bucky chuckles, you’re always so nice. Even when it’s all about you, you always make sure that he is fine too. That both of you feel comfortable.

“I’m good too. Do you want to have my dick now?” He asks, grinning.

You nod, running your fingers through his soft hair. Bucky kisses your stomach, pushing his elf up until he kneels between your legs. His big hands are caressing your thighs. Bucky’s cock is hard again, and the tip is touching your pussy when he moves closer to you.

“Could you give me a condom? It’s in the drawer from the bedside table.”

You turn yourself a bit around, reaching for the drawer, and open it. You grab a condom and give it to Bucky, then you close the drawer and lay down more comfortably again. Bucky opens the package of the condom, taking it out and throwing the package away. Your boyfriend grasps the base of his cock and pulls the condom over his dick.

You’re spreading your legs further apart when Bucky settles himself between them, his cock still in his hand, and he taps the tip a few times against your clit. He smirks at you, sliding his dick through your folds, and covers his cock with your arousal. You moan softly when he reaches your entrance, pushing his tip softly against it. You whimper softly when Bucky slides his cock once more through your folds. He loves the way you look through your lashes at him; your lips are slightly parted, so desperate for his cock.

"Bucky, please," you say quietly, pushing your hips toward him.

Bucky lines himself up with your entrance and pushes slowly inside of you; his cock is huge, and he stretches you like no one has before. He gives you a moment to adjust to his size before he pushes further into you. Your back arches, but he doesn't hurt you; the pleasure is breathtaking, and you grasp the sheets. Bucky chuckles, pushing balls deep into you; he then leans closer and captures your lips with his. His cock is filling you perfectly, and you clench around him, causing him to groan into your mouth.

"You're so tight, warming my cock so perfectly," he groans.

"You're so deep," you moan when he pulls slightly out to push back into you.

You both chuckle, and Bucky takes one of your hands, brings it to your stomach, and places it on your lower abdomen. He then thrusts his cock into you, letting you feel him through your skin and causing you to moan even louder. Feeling his cock that way turns you on beyond belief. He moves his cock in a slow but steady rhythmus inside of you. Your walls are squeezing him, sucking him deeper into the warmth of your pussy.

Bucky's balls hit your ass whenever he pushes his dick balls deep into you. His dick is glistening with your arousal, and Bucky looks the whole time into your eyes.

You're beautiful when you lay underneath him like that. Your other hand makes its way to his back, and you try to ground yourself while Bucky holds your other hand, still pressed on your stomach. With every thrust you feel him against your hand, he cock is hitting all the right spots, and he smirks when he hits your sweet spot harder than before.

"That's what you like?" He asks.

"Scared that I will break when you're thrusting harder into me?"

He shakes his head, laughing while he speeds up his thrusts. Your mouth drops open when he causes a pleasure inside of you that you have never felt before. It grows in your stomach and makes its way down to your pussy. Your eyes widen while you breathe heavily, but you still push your hips more against Bucky to show him to fuck you harder. And he does; he pulls almost completely out of you to thrust back inside of you. His breath hitches, and he closes his eyes when you squeeze him harder.

"I won't last long when you squeeze me like that, doll," he says, pressing his lips to yours.

You smirk, clenching your walls on purpose to make him groan against your lips. His tongue slips into your mouth, and his thrusts become harder and faster while you're not far away from the edge anymore. The pleasure in your stomach is growing, and Bucky growls. When he hits your sweet spot a few more times, he feels your orgasm just as close as his own, speeding his thrusts up. Bucky doesn't want to come before you do — or at least when you do.

"B—Bucky, I'm so close."

"I know, me too. Come with me, doll," he mumbles softly.

He pushes his cock into you; you feel every inch of him inside of you; his lips are slightly parted like yours; and his breath hits your soft skin. The feeling of him feeling you completely inside of you causes you to come all over his cock. You moan his name and its music to his ears, hearing you moan his name while he is buried balls deep into your pussy. You're squirting all over his cock, and Bucky grins while he comes as well. He comes in the condom, still thrusting into you while you both calm down from your high. Bucky lets go of your hand, sliding it over your stomach and your sides, caressing your skin. He places kisses all over your neck while you catch your breath and run your fingers through his soft hair.

"Are you oke?" He asks, his blue eyes slightly worried that he could have been too rough.

"I'm— it was perfect."

His expression softens, and he pulls slowly out of you. You hiss about the sudden emptiness and grasp his muscular arms to pull him back. Bucky chuckles, placing his fingers at your pussy and strokes your folds softly. You're clenching around nothing, while Bucky admires the way your cum is dripping out of you.

He then sits up and helps you sit up as well. Bucky removes the condom and gets up from the bed, making his way to the bathroom to throw the condom away. You're looking at him, smirking. He is adorable, sweet, and caring. He never tells you that you're ugly because of your scars; he just kisses them when you struggle because of them and tells you how beautiful you are. And you're doing the same; whenever he has nightmares or suffers from his past or scars, you know exactly how to cheer him up. A lot of kisses and cuddles always help that soft, big man, and with the way his eyes are shining, his lips curl up to the softest and most adorable smile.

You rest your back against the headboard of the bed, waiting for Bucky. He throws the condom away and runs warm water into the bath; he buts your favourite bubble bath into it as well, before he makes his way back to you. He smirks, picking you up with no effort and getting back into the bathroom. Before you can say something, you're sitting in the bathtub, surrounded by a lot of bubbles and your favourite scent. You squirm softly when you feel the warm water on your sensitive pussy. Bucky gets into the bathtub behind you, wraps his arms around your waist, and pulls you as close as possible.

"I love you," he mumbles, taking some of the foam and putting it on your hair.

You giggle when it rolls down your hair and tickles your skin softly. Bucky rubs his hands softly over your stomach, drawing small circles on it while you lean back, resting your head against his broad chest. Bucky plays with the foam, placing them everywhere on your body, and chuckles then.

"You did so well for me, babydoll. Your pussy's feeling so good around my cock," Bucky says, kissing your neck softly. "Made for my cock."

You chuckle, sliding your hands over his legs. But he is right; it was perfect, and he was so soft that you weren't scared when he pushed in; you felt safe, and you knew he wouldn't do it when you didn't want it.

"My pretty doll, I'm so in love with you. How about I prepare some popcorn and pizza after the bath while you decide which movie we're going to watch?"

"Sounds like a good idea," you say, turning around to kiss him.

Bucky washes your hair, trying to avoid letting shampoo come into your eyes, and he manages to do so. When you turn your whole body around, you're washing his hair. When you put the shampoo in his soft brown hair, you give him some fresh hair styles. Laughing about the way he is pouting when you giggle about his hair. You kiss his pout away, causing him to pout again to get more kisses.

When the both of you are finished, you get out of the bathtub, and Bucky holds a towel to wrap around you, kissing your forehead softly when he walks to the bedroom and dresses himself, giving you panties and a t-shirt of his. You smirk, dress yourself, and comb your hair. Bucky makes his way to the kitchen, preparing the popcorn and the pizza. When you're finished in the bathroom, you walk into the living room, placing all the pillows and blankets on the couch and letting yourself fall into them. When Bucky came with the food and drinks into the living room, he burst out laughing. Only your arms and legs are visible from underneath the pillows. He places the food and drinks on the small table and lifts the pillow on top of you, smirking.

"Does the pillow eat you?" He asks, and you chuckle.

"No, I just like to cuddle."

You sit up, moving a bit to make some space for Bucky. He lets himself fall down next to you and wraps his arm around you, then he takes the popcorn and hands it to you before he places the pizza in his lap. With a smirk, you look at the pizza and then into his blue eyes.

"Needy boy," you mumble into his ear.

You slide your hand over his chest to his stomach until you almost reach his cock, but then you take a slice of pizza and bite into it with a grin. You turn on a movie, Bucky, and you like that your head rests on his shoulder while he has his hand around your waist and pulls you as close as possible.

"Just as needy as I'm," he says, making both of you chuckle.

Bucky takes some popcorn from the bowl, which is standing between your legs, so he has to grasp between your legs like you do when you take a slice of pizza from him.

"Bucky?"

"Mhm?" He asks, half asleep, and pulls you even closer against him.

You smile softly and run your fingers through his soft hair. You move some strands out of his face and lean closer to kiss him. Bucky growls and makes you lie on top of him, his arms holding you tightly pressed against him. His fingers draw small circles on your soft skin, and he hides his face in the crock of your neck.

"Y-You know about my things, which are still at Alex's house, right?" You ask carefully; you don't want to upset Bucky.

He hums in response and looks at you, his blue eyes as soft as always. He leans closer and captures your lips for a passionate kiss, showing you that you don't have to worry about telling him about your ex-boyfriend. Bucky knows you love him just as much as he loves you. And he understands that you want to get your personal stuff from your ex-boyfriend.

"A—And I wanted to ask if— could you maybe come with me to him?"

Bucky immediately nods, rolling both of you over so you're underneath him, and he smirks at you. His soft lips grace over yours and along your jawline to your neck, where he bits softly into your skin. His hands move smoothly over your sides, caressing your skin and causing goosebumps all over your body. You sigh softly and enjoy the warmth and softness of Bucky's touches. He is always so soft and careful with you, like you could break into his hands when he doesn't pay attention. But you don't complain; Bucky is everything for you — the love of your life and your best friend.

After a lot of kisses, cuddles, and a good breakfast, you're ready to go to your ex-boyfriend and get your personal stuff. Your hands are sweating, and you dry them on your pants. Your body is slightly shaking. Bucky recognises that; he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you flat against his broad chest. Your head rests on his chest, and you listen to his heartbeat.

"He won't hurt you again, babydoll. I'm taking care of you; I'll protect you, and he won't do anything when you don't want it." Bucky mumbles and pushes you softly away.

He presses his lips against your forehead, which helps calm down your nerves. Bucky opens the door for you, holding your hands tight in his while you two walk along the street to the apartment you used to live in a few months ago. When you see the entrance of it already, you panic, stay still, and inhale deeply. Bucky turns toward you and places his hand on your cheek, sliding his thumb over it.

"Doll, you're stronger than you ever were. This man never broke you, and he never will. He can't harm you; I love you, and I won't let him touch you again," Bucky says softly.

He knows how hard it can be to accept a trauma you're carrying in your soul. Wounds that turn into scars, but it needs more time as a cut on the skin. Bucky knows how much you suffered because of your ex-boyfriend, but he also sees the strong woman behind all that pain. He loves you for the person you are, not for the person he wants you to be. When you nod, he leads you further to Alex's apartment. He knocks with a strength you're not used to at the door, and then the door is opened by a man you feel like you don't know.

Alex has messy hair; his beard isn't shaved like he used to, and he has dark shadows underneath his red eyes. He looks like he hasn't slept for a while, but when he sees you, he smiles. A smile you had only seen on his lips when you first met. The one you fell in love with. But when Alex sees Bucky standing next to you and holding your hand in his, his smile drops.

"Hi, I—I would like to get my stuff, please," you mumble.

Surprisingly, Alex nods and takes a step to the side, letting you and Bucky walk into the apartment. When you look around, everything looks similar to the day he threw you out of the apartment. The only difference is that there are clothes and trash on the ground. Bucky lets go of your hand, staying next to you to make sure Alex isn't doing anything. You're walking through the apartment and picking up your things, putting them in a bag you brought.

"Can we talk, please?" He asks when you walk back to the floor, where he is still standing.

You nod carefully, and Bucky kisses your cheek before he walks a step to the side to let the two of you talk. Alex runs his fingers through his hair and his hands over his face, and then he inhales deeply.

"I'm sorry, I—I Baby—“

"Alex, please. We're not together anymore."

"I never wanted to hurt you. I love you. I haven't had a girl since you moved out. Please, I love you. Give me one more chance to show you that I love you. I will be a better boyfriend this time," he says, and you see the tears falling down your cheeks.

You shake your head. And his eyes widen. Realism hits him when he sees that you don't feel the same for him anymore. He sees in your eyes that you moved on, not only in your eyes; you look in general different from the time you were together with him.

"I'm sorry, but I moved on, and you should do the same," you say with such strength in your voice. You never thought you would talk to him like that without fear.

"Please, you— I love you."

"You were strong, and I was not. And you used it — you used it against me. When all is done, there is nothing to say. You have gone, and so effortlessly, you have won. You can go ahead and tell them. You can tell your friends now what you want; you can tell the girls you fuck now how shitty I am and how bad I'm in bed. I never did what you wanted or the way you wanted. Tell them all; I know now that you fucked them all without feeling ashamed to cheat on the girl you have at home, the one who loved you and expected to be treated like you did. To be abused by her boyfriend while still loving him. Shout it from the rooftops; write it on the skyline; all we had is gone now. Tell them I was happy even though my heart was broken. All my scars were open, but I found someone who doesn't mind them and helps to heal them, someone who loves all the scars you caused."

Bucky smirks when he hears your words, and his eyes light up when he hears you tell your ex-boyfriend what was inside of you for so long. And you were finally able to tell him how you felt and how you now feel.

"I know I made mistakes. But I love you."

"Everyone does, but you betrayed me. And falling out of love is hard, but falling for betrayal is worse. And you betrayed me so often. Broken trust and broken hearts — you broke both our hearts; you broke mine when we were together, and yours broke because I moved on. And thinking all you need is there, building faith on love and words, only empty promises will wear. Alex, I loved you, but I moved on, and you should do the same," you say and nod before you walk to Bucky.

He smiles widely at you, his eyes shining in the most beautiful way you have ever seen. You place your hand in his, and he takes the bag before you two make your way to the door and get out of the apartment. When you close the door behind you, you breathe shakily, and you feel like all the pain and fear are fading away. You walk a few steps, but Bucky just can't hold back anymore and stays still, turning around and wrapping his arms around your waist.

"I'm so proud of you, doll. I love you so much. I would tell the whole world; I just do it. I will tell the world how much I love you," Bucky says with a grin, and twirling the two of you around, he then leans closer. "I love you so much, and I'm proud of you. I don't even have words for that; you're the most beautiful woman, and you belong to me; you're mine just as much as I'm yours," he whispers into your ear.

"Thank you. I love you too, Bucky," you giggle, then you smirk playfully. "So, where do you want to go to tell the world that you love me?"

"I already did. When I whispered in your ear that I love you. Because you're my world, my perfect world," Bucky says, kissing you softly.

You feel some tears of joy rolling down your face when you realise his words. No one ever said more meaningful words than Bucky does. He is definitely everything for you, and you are grateful to have such a wonderful and loving man as your boyfriend. One who sees you as the only and most wonderful woman, someone who doesn't even look at other women, and one who tries to make you laugh as often as he can. Bucky is the love of your life, and you're grateful that destiny brought the two of you together and that the two of you discover every day another thing you love about one another.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @kandis-mom @sergeantbarnessdoll @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @blackhawkfanatic @armystay89 @suz7days @randomawesomeperson102 @rogersbarber @sebastianstanisahotmf @bucky-barnes-lover @felicitylemon @cjand10 @bookishtheaterlover7 @casa-boiardi @futurequeen2018-blog @flstrawberry @capsbestgirl77 @nervouseden @vicmc624 @kpopgirlbtssvt @ordelixx @angelbabyyy99 @mostlymarvelgirl @somegirlfromasgard @buck-buck-buckaroo @lov3lys1ns @etherealdisneyvillainness @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @jiyascepter @princesscore-angel

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strongheartneteyam · 5 months

Text

[ credits of the Neteyam pic go to cinetrix ]

Champagne Problems.

Pairing: Neteyam Sully x female!human!reader

CW: angsty, reader feeling her heart hurt, adeline being funny and shipping reader and neteyam, sexual tension, confessions of love, angry neteyam, confused neteyam, yearning, crying, fluff, sexual content, neteyam loving reader's breasts, neteyam using his fangs on reader's body, p in v, territorial neteyam, needy and clingy neteyam, slight breeding kink, creampie

I almost cried writing this chapter and istg my pussy clenched hard while I was writing the smut part so… have a good read, I guess lol ps: I know I said I was gonna have a break from uploading my long fics (and I am!) but there was an itch in my hand to finish this story and I gave in and scratched it lol I kinda knew I eventually would. But I'm only gonna update the other fics next year. This one was an exception bc there was only one chapter left (this one lol)

Not proofread. I woke up in the middle of the night to write this, it's already morning outside and I'm sleepy and sick :(

Part 7: All I want is you

𓇼

It's hard to be anywhere these days when all I want is you

You're a flashback in a film reel on the one screen in my town

And I just wanted you to know that this is me trying

this is me trying (Taylor Swift)

𓇼

In the morning, you woke up and realized you were no longer sitting on the floor, resting your back against the wall of Kiri's marui, but rather laying in your mat. You had a sharp headache but you didn't really know why. Maybe lack of enough sleep, maybe tension… Your eyes searched around for Neteyam but he was no longer there. You knew instantly that Neteyam had been the one to carry you to your mat. He was the only one awake other than you when you two were talking while it was eclipse and you knew it wasn't his nature to leave a girl sleeping while sitting down on the floor in a weird position and go home. No, he was too much of a gentleman for that.

The realization that you were about to go back to the lab in a few days and leave Neteyam behind again hit you like a train. The thought of being without him and having no guarantee that he wasn't gonna find a mate while you were gone and when you'd come back and see him again, he'd be happy with a beautiful na'vi girl by his side - perhaps even carrying his baby in her womb - broke you in a billion little pieces.

Your heart started to beat fast in your chest, like it was gonna escape from inside your body and come out through your throat. But there was also a big lump in your throat. Anxiety stinged your whole body like sharp, thin needles.

You didn't want to lose Neteyam. Just imagining having to stare at a wall in your room at night, to see his sweet face in the crushing darkness and feel the tears rolling down your face, reminding you that you would never be able to hold him again, to feel his huge but gentle hands on your skin, to smell his comforting scent… and worse: to know he would be in some other girl's arms every night, letting her kiss him, having… God, having sex with her…

No. You couldn't let him go. It would rip your heart apart.

And if Neteyam didn't go for Munì like you thought he did, that meant that he didn't stop loving you… right? That's what you were desperately hoping for. You were almost sure you had seen him get slightly happy when you acted like an idiot and let him see how jealous you were of Munì last night. Maybe that meant he still felt something for you.

If you were right about Neteyam's feelings, you didn't quite know why he loved the mess of a girl that you were but… somehow he did, and he was sad because of you, because you refused to be his mate when that's all you truly wanted, in the first place. You had let fear hold you back once again. But not this time. You had to be brave. You had to at least try.

Putting the sheet that was once over you to the side, you uncovered your body and, in a rapid motion, you got up from your mat and got to your feet, feeling the slight coldness on the floor of the marui. Your feet walked slowly but surely among your two best human friends, trying hard not to step on or kick one of the girls as they were sleeping right next to your mat.

You got startled by Adeline's voice echoing in the morning air as she whispered energetically to you.

"(y/n), where are you going?" Her voice was hoarse and slightly funny, because of slumber.

"I thought you were sleeping!" You whispered back as you looked at her sleepy and moody face while she laid down in her mat

"I was but I felt the need to pee and woke up. Answer my question, please!" She demanded

Your heart started beating fast and you spoke "I'm gonna try and make things right with Neteyam."

"Thank God." She dramatically grunted "I knew you liked him all along, I just wouldn't try and force you to mate with the guy, of course. But damn, I've known you since we were kids and I know when you're in love. I wanted to slap you when I saw you looking gloomy and I would ask you what was wrong and you would say that it was nothing but I just knew you were missing him and regretting refusing to be his mate. And Neteyam brought you back to your mat in his freaking arms! You can't let the guy go, you idiot! He loves you! Can't you see it? You both love each other! What was stopping you before from saying “Hey, I know I'm a bit crazy but I wanna be your mate!”?” She sighed, like she was tired of that whole situation

“How do you know Neteyam carried me back to my mat?” Surprise was all over your face

“I woke up at eclipse with your chatter, mamas.” She said nonchalantly

“Oh…” You awkwardly spoke “So, you heard everything?” You cringed

“I heard a lot of it. Enough to know Neteyam is worth it. Now do what you gotta do. I gotta go relieve myself.” She demanded like a mother would

Your laughter echoed around. Adeline didn't realize how funny she was. You loved her. So, so much. That bitch was everything to you.

In only seconds you found yourself rushing out of the marui's door and your feet walking quickly through the warm Metkayina sand.

After a good while looking around and only seeing turquoise skinned tall Metkayina people, you finally found Neteyam. The sight of his broad, striped back did things to you. It made you remember how insanely good it felt when he was inside of you that rainy night on his hammock.

"Neteyam!" You yelled, sounding way more desperate than you had wanted to, and Neteyam rapidly turned around looked at you, his face covered with surprise

"I'm sorry! I do wanna be with you!" You spoke, breath a bit labored as you felt nervous and insecure about his reaction. The next thing you saw, you were breaking down in tears.

"Why did you refuse me, then?" Neteyam asked, slightly angry and utterly confused

He did not understand why you had put you both through all that pain if you did love him too.

"I guess I was just afraid of finally having something beautiful in my life again, to feel safe again and then lose it. I couldn't bear to lose you. The truth is, I've had a crush on you since we first met too and I think I started to have deeper feelings for you at the party. Maybe we fell for each other at the same time" you chuckled wearily between tears, thinking that if it truly happened, it was beautiful and seemed like something out of a romantic movie

“Were you afraid that I was gonna leave you?” Neteyam asked, furrowing his hairless eyebrows

“Yes…” You shamefully confirmed.

It seemed like you only ever thought the worst of Neteyam, even though he was known to be a good man and only proved you again and again how much he cared about you.

"Why would I ever leave you if I love you? It's as simple as that, tawtute." Neteyam stated

An amazed smile was born amidst your tears and your heart sped up as your brain processed those words.

"Are you saying you… love me?" It still seemed too good to be true.

"I'm saying I love you more than you will ever know, syulang." Neteyam walked closer to you and tried to touch your hand

You backed away slightly and he felt frustrated. Even as you declared your love for him you were still so guarded. Neteyam let out an impatient breath out of his feline nostrils.

“Tawtute, please, be my mate.” He asked you once again, his heart open to you once again.

“But what about tsaheylu? You can’t make it with me! What if you one day realize you regret missing out on this experience? It’s such an important thing to your people…” You let out a choked sob as you pronounced those words that felt like a stab in the heart

“Not again with the excuses…” Neteyam thought

“Listen” Neteyam asked for your attention “I do not care if you don’t have tendrils and we can’t make tsaheylu. What’s even the point of tsaheylu if I can’t make it with the girl I love? Tsaheylu is about sharing your affection, your devotion, your need with your mate and I don’t need or want anyone else but you, tawtute.”

You kept sobbing and just couldn't seem to stop.

Neteyam grabbed you and held you inside his strong, long arms, one of his hands on the back of your head, pressing it against his body and the other on your shoulder. His warm embrace felt reassuring.

"It's okay, oeyä tawtute. You are safe with me."

After a while holding you like that, he gently pushed you away from him and held your chin up so you could look at his face.

"I won't ever leave you. I promise you, with the Great Mother as my witness, I will never ever let you go. I'm yours forever. I have been yours for so long…" He gave you a calm smile and wiped your tears away

Your gleaming eyes gazed up at his face. He was so beautiful, his dark blue stripes forming intricate pattern on his forehead, a pattern unique to his body. His bioluminescent freckles adorned his big face and shone slightly even in the light of day. You were so damn lucky to have such a beautiful man be so deeply in love with you.

“So, what's it gonna be?” Neteyam's big thumb caressed your reddened face as his lips were curled in a gentle smile, showing no teeth “Can I finally get an “yes” from your beautiful lips?”

You chuckled and smiled big.

“Yes.” Neteyam's heart swelled with affection and relief “Yes, I'm gonna be your mate, Neteyam.”

“Nga yawne lu oer, oeyä tawtute.” (I love you, my human) Neteyam grabbed your face that was tiny inside his two big hands and kissed you eagerly, his lips pressing against yours like he had been needing that for so long.

Neteyam had been dreaming awake every night about how it would feel if he ever got to kiss your small mouth again. His tongue touched the slit of your mouth, deliciously warm and wet and you parted your lips so he could explore the insides of your mouth. Neteyam's large tongue licked your tongue and you moaned in delight at the sensation. You had missed his kisses so damn much… Neteyam tasted your mouth like you were the sweetest berry juice in the whole Universe.

“I missed your lips and your tongue, syulang. I was craving you.” Neteyam said and softly placed a last peck in your lips

“I missed you too. A lot.” You smiled at him, still tasting him on your tongue "I love you too." Neteyam smiled at you when hearing those words he was dying to hear for so long.

“Come, have lunch with me, oeyä hì'i muntxate.” (my small mate)

You agreed and Neteyam took your hand inside his much bigger one, taking you to the place where the na'vi were handling food to each other.

Many curious blue eyes looked at the both of you as Neteyam possessively held you by your waist and talked to you gently.

“I'm gonna get some fish and herbs for us, okay?” He smiled happily at you, like he either didn't notice or didn't care about how all the Metkayina at that part of the reef seemed to be watching yours and Neteyam's every move.

Quickly he grabbed the fish and took you to some rocks away from everyone else, what made you let out a relieved silent breath.

You two ate your fish, that had been prepared on a bonfire - it tasted delicious, by the way. Slightly spicy but also with fresh notes of something that reminded you of peppermint. Alien food was better than you had ever anticipated while you prepared on Earth to travel to Pandora.

"By the way, I'm sorry about your arm. I bet it hurt a lot…" You brought it up, after swallowing a mouthful of fish

"Not that much. I'm strong." He played around but Neteyam truly wanted you to see him as a strong na'vi male. He knew it was boyish but he did it anyway.

He won a quick joyful chuckle from you.

"I was gonna tell you that yesterday but I guess I got too nervous and then too emotional and I ended up forgetting to. I'm sorry, I think I tend to seem self-centered sometimes…" You spoke

"Don't worry about it. You do seem aloof and a little self-centered" You scoffed in a joking manner at his bluntness but you actually said “Ouch!” on the inside.

Damn, Neteyam truly knew how to humble someone...

“But I know that's not who you really are. People just have to take enough time to get to know you and they'll see what I see."

"And what do you see?" Your eyes shone with wonder and your voice was playful

"I see a smart, strong, sensitive and amazingly beautiful girl."

Your cheeks turned red. You weren't expecting so much praise.

“Ok, stop… I'm not all that.” You awkwardly stated, avoiding his gaze

“Of course you are. I don't know why you can't see it, tawtute.”

Maybe because you hadn't heard that a lot throughout your life…

To be fair, you had been called beautiful and smart many times but not the other two. Kate and Adeline would tell you that you were strong when you needed to hear it but you always wondered if they perhaps just said that because they were your closest, best friends and they only wanted to make you feel better.

𓇼

After lunch, Neteyam sneaked out with you and took you to a private place on the beach where his hammock was hanging, somewhere more secluded, where the both of you could be alone. You knew just what he wanted and you could not lie and say that you were not craving the exact same thing.

Neteyam took you in his arms, winning a squeaky laugh from you as he lift you off your feet.

Neteyam sat you on his big hammock, your legs hanging in the air and not touching the clear sand. He knelt in front of you and before you knew it, he was kissing you. Neteyam eagerly took your lower lip between his soft, full lips, suckling on it ever so slightly and then pressing his mouth against yours. Neteyam's huge blue hands cupped both your breasts over your white cropped top and you whimpered in pleasure.

"Oeyä tawtute…" he cried out "Let me see these titties" his mouth hanged slightly open with anticipation and desire

Once you let him take your bra off, Neteyam groaned in an animalistic, primal way.

"These perfect soft titties are mine now, oeyä muntxate. Only mine."

"Yours, Neteyam." You breathed, so taken by him and the moment. Your panties were slick with your juices, so much he turned you on.

Neteyam laid you down gently but eagerly on his hammock. He wasted no time and quickly brought his lips to your breasts. He had been dreaming of that ever since the first time he saw your breasts jiggle under your shirt when you were walking fast, troubled with your scientist work. Your boobs were just so different from the na'vi females ones and it made Neteyam daydream about how it would feel to have your small buds inside his mouth.

Neteyam sucked on your nipples like he was hungry and desperate to taste your skin. He licked your sensitive buds swiftly, leaving them hard and wet with his saliva. All you could do was look down at his mesmerizing blue face, staring at his bioluminescent little freckles and moan loud. You started to worry if people could hear but you decided it was not important if they did or not and you just did not care. That intimate, raw moment you were having with your Neteyam was much more important than anything else in the Universe.

He started using his fangs to tease your breasts slowly and you whimpered at the sting but also enjoyed the bittersweet pleasure it gave you.

“If you want me to stop, just say it, oeyä tawtute.”

“No. Keep doing it, please” You asked

Neteyam bit your right breast harder this time and you moaned loud again. The acute feeling of his sharp fangs harassing your sensitive skin made you feel an incredible sensation that lied somewhere between discomfort and delight but that ended up just being incredibly addictive. Your folds were even more soaked by now.

“Neteyam, please, fuck me, baby” you begged “I need you.”

“Fuck, muntxate, you're so needy for me. It's so hot, yawne…” Neteyam's heavy breath collided with your skin, sending shivers all over your body

Neteyam undressed you quickly and took his loincloth off just as rapidly, his cock hard and proud, slightly curved to the side.

Neteyam took his cock in his hand and rubbed his swollen tip on your glistening clit, making your body tremble.

“Neteyam… please.” You protested

“Say you want it.” He looked into your eyes, his big golden irises shining with the sight of you in front of him, his mouth in a teasing smirk. His accent drove you insane.

“Please, fuck me…” Your face showed him how desperate you were to feel him

“Do you want me to fill you up with my cock, tawtute?” He dig for more

“Yes, Neteyam, I need your big cock inside of my pussy, please, please…” It's like you couldn't take it anymore. Your cunt felt so empty without him.

After hearing those enticing words, Neteyam swiftly placed his large blue cock at your soaked entrance and pushed it all in at once, making you moan loudly in sheer, raw pleasure.

"Eywa, how I missed this pussy! Your ekxìn pussy feels so fucking good, my little tanhì." (star) Neteyam murmured as he thrusted hungrily into you, his big, girthy cock stretching your insides and filling you up completely.

Neteyam's feelings for you were just so strong that he felt like no words would ever be enough to express his emotions so, he was trying to show you how he felt about you by loving your body instead, pouring out all his yearning for you through his kisses, his desperate caresses, his thrusts…

"Tawtute" Neteyam cried out as he thrusted roughly into you "Oeyä muntxate." (my mate) "Mine. All mine, yawntu…" (loved one) He whimpered in your ear, melancholic and driven wild by his desire and ardent affection for you "Nga yawne lu oer." (I love you) "So, so much."

Neteyam's breath was heavy and irregular as he pounded himself into you as hard as he could. He needed you so much, he felt like he would die if he could not have all of you, if he could not claim you once and for all. It was so good that he didn't last long and came inside of you, his thick warm seed shooting strongly towards your womb. He hoped to breed you but he didn't know you were taking birth control pills. Neteyam's load of cum was so big that it leaked out of your cunt even as he was still inside of you. That was so dirty and sexy that your pussy clenched around his cock as you felt his warm liquid leaking out of your stretched entrance.

After cuddling for a while, when you were looking to find your bra that Neteyam had thrown somewhere in the sand, he looked at your breasts, the two of them full of his bite marks and a big beautiful smile adorned his full lips, followed by a joyful chuckle.

“I marked you well, syulang. Now everybody can see that you're mine. Oeyä muntxate. Mine forever.” He leaned in for a kiss, pressing his soft lips on yours, so needy. Neteyam tasted so sweet but so unique at the same time. He tasted like himself. Nothing else could compare.

You chuckled. “You're so pervy.”

“But you love it.” He smiled at you, his sharp fangs more charming than ever

“Hey! Just because I'm your mate now it doesn't mean you get to be all cocky again.” You teased, pretending to be angry, as you pushed his arm away with your hand

Neteyam only smiled wider. He was over the moon that you were now finally his. All his. Until the end of time.

Neteyam yawned, body still in full bliss because of the powerful orgasm you had given him.

“I'm sleepy, oeyä tawtute. Take a nap with me.” He was already grabbing you in his big striped arms and laying you back on the hammock with him.

“You're not giving me a choice, anyway.” You chuckled and yawned too.

Soon your tired eyes fell shut, as you felt his warm breath on your skin.

𓇼

In the middle of the afternoon, you woke up crying, desperately breathing gasping for air. Neteyam woke up startled with your panicking state. Another nightmare... One of those that left your heart aching and your mind confused for long after you woke up, wondering if it had been reality or not.

“What's wrong, yawntu?” (loved one)

When you realized Neteyam was by your side, still holding you against his warm body, you felt relieved but only seemed to cry more. You buried your head on his soft chest and he just let you cry there, petting your head softly with his hand, his slender fingers running through your locks of hair every now and then, trying to comfort you.

Eventually you stopped crying, sniffing one last time. You placed a kiss on Neteyam's chest, your lips lingering on his skin for longer than they normally would, as if to try and make sure that he was really there with you, that he was real and was not going away.

“Wanna tell me what happened now, oeyä muntxate?” (my mate)

You looked up at his face, eyes reddish.

“I had a terrible nightmare…” just the reminder made your heart ache again “I dreamt you left me. You got tired of me and found a better mate.”

“Tawtute… that's never gonna happen.”

“You promise?” You needed to hear him promise…

“I promise.” He tried to kiss you but you backed away a bit

“What if your parents don't approve of us? Will you leave me then?” You hated how clingy and annoying you were sounding

Neteyam started thinking that he would have to have an endless amount of patience with you. Your fear controlled you way too often. He would have to teach you how to be a little more free. But he would do it gladly.

"Listen, yawntutsyìp" (little loved one) Neteyam held your small face inside of both his huge blue hands "We will fight whatever we have to, whatever comes our way, and we will stay together forever, okay? I'm not letting anything separate me from you. Nothing, you hear me? Nothing." He promised you.

You breathed in and decided you had to try and believe him, otherwise you would end up sabotaging your relationship with Neteyam, you would end up contributing to what you feared the most: him leaving you. What you did not know was that there was actually nothing you could do to drive Neteyam away. He had been chasing you for way too long, he had fought for you like he had fought in the war against the Sky People. Neteyam was too much of a good warrior and too proud to let you go after all that. And damn, he could not imagine a life without you. Not a life where he would be happy and fulfilled, at least. He needed you to see the morning air as fresh, to hear the song of the birds as lively, to see the light of the stars as a guide.

“Okay. I trust you, Neteyam.” You stated, utterly sure of your words this time.

𓇼

♡ Epilogue ♡

You felt safe for the first time in so long while Neteyam held you inside his big arms, his body heat spreading all over you. It felt so cozy and just so… right. Like you had finally found what you needed, what you were unconsciously looking for all along.

Safety, trust, shelter… love.

Funny how sometimes when we need love the most is when we push it away the most, hurt the people who are trying to give it to us the most because we're so terrified to get hurt again, to finally trust and be let down again that we would rather keep drowning in our pain and in our loneliness. Pain can feel comfortable, as crazy as it sounds.

You could have never seen it coming, you could have never imagined back on your Earth days that your safe place to fall would be in the arms of an alien in an exoplanet, outside of your home solar system. What a weird happy ending. But it doesn't matter. There's still much more to come. This isn't the end, it's just the beginning.

𓇼

Turn a curse into a kiss

Change the meaning of your world

Love makes no sense, love has no name

Love drowns you in tears and it sets your heart on fire

Love has no fear, love has no reason

So infinitely vast and we're standing at the edge

Take my hand, erase the past forever

Love Exists (Amy Lee)

𓇼

This is the end, guys 🥲🤍 Feels so good to give Teyam and Reader a beautiful happy ending. Thank you all so much for reading my story ��

•

Taglist:

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@leaveitbythewave

@creepytoes88

@live-laugh-neteyam

@swaggygurlbae

@neteluvr

@layla2-49

@a-blog-name-2003

@lala-1516

@jakesullyfatjuicypeen

@yeosxxx

@iaratezaewa

@somekindofastupidjoke

@fadedpetal

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entishramblings · 6 months

Text

Watcher of Wanderers [Legolas/F!Reader]

A.N: this was intended just to be a mini one-shot to get back into writing. although, I will admit I got carried away. oops. heh.

Pairing: Legolas X F!Reader

Song Inspo: Mountain Meditation by Chantress Seba

🌬️ I highly recommend listening while reading

Summary: Legolas senses a presence following the fellowship on their journey and it seems to be particularly fond of him.

Disclaimer: all mythology related to the reader was made up for plot purposes lol. not canon.

Word count: 5.6k (once again, idk why I’m like this)

Warnings: comfort, fluff, loneliness, flirting, suggested sexual innuendos, stalking sort of (yes, again, I know. you’re just gonna have to read it I can’t explain it)

Additional Content: moodboard linked here

MASTERLIST | AO3 | WATTPAD

When you are nothing but a breeze that passes through the travelers’ bending hair. When you are nothing but a tickle that brushes upon the vagabonds’ breaking skin. When you are nothing but a whisper that hisses upon the wanders’ deaf ear. When you are nothing but alone, you too are a voyager.

That’s what (Y/N) was, wasn’t she?

She sailed through the years, watching every war and every battle. She observed every lover as she observed every enemy. She attended to them all, from their start and to their end. She perceived them hunt—first for food and drink, the simplest things, then for more. She witnessed them build—smaller creations in the beginning, then large structures that reached deep into her sky. She gazed at them as they grew, in mind and body. They began as little screaming balls of flesh, then sprouted into large beings that walked and talked. They produced more of themselves. They multiplied. Families, they had called it. She saw each one of them go by, twisting with desire as they did with age. Each was sneaking to find something—riches, power, hope, love, safety—but it didn’t really matter. She just bore witness. She bore witness to the happiness and to the dread. Yet, even when it was dark and desperate, she did nothing. She was silent—as she was meant to be.

Cursed to ride the winds for all of her immortal years.

Cursed to guide them and bend them.

Cursed to behold them.

Cursed to be them.

Alone.

A Watcher of Wanderers.

She was unescorted, unattended, and unchaperoned. She was unaccompanied as she wove through the desolate lands of Arda. Through the oceans, through the deserts, through the mountains, she bent and bellowed. But (Y/N) didn’t need anyone to accompany her, for she simply didn’t exist—at least not in the way one would think.

But after so long in solidarity, watching and observing, (Y/N) wondered what it would feel like to be more than what she was. She wondered what it was to taste and touch, to smell and see, to live and breath.

She thought how pain must feel. How did it bring red to the surface of their skin? How did it bring tears to their eyes? How did it bring screams to their throats?

Still, she wandered more.

She thought how laughter must feel. How did it bubble in their chests? How did it bring water to their faces? How did it bring glee from their mouths?

Still, she wandered more.

She thought about how love must feel. How did it soften their gazes? How did it bring drops upon their cheeks? How did it bring proclamations to their lips? How did it feel to welcome in another soul? Was it safe—not that she would know what safety felt like.

Still, she wandered more.

As each day passed and each traveler followed, she continued to question, guess, inquire.

Some of these creatures were more in tune with the natural currents of the word. It was the immortal beings, distinguished by the pointy ears that lent them an air of otherworldly grace and their lightning-quick reflexes. They were not just any immortals, but those whose lineages stretched back to ancestors who had walked among the Valar themselves. At times, (Y/N) entertained the fantasizing notion that they possessed the rare ability to hear her, though she recognized that this belief was nothing more than wishful thinking. As a watcher of wanderers, she liked these ones best.

Yet that did not mean that others did not catch her eye, for she was curious of anything unusual from the regular patterns of life. And when nine—born of various blood—walked together, her curiosity peaked.

So, she followed them.

One was a Maiar, but not like her. He shared the same celestial origin, shaped as one of the spirits meant to aid the Valar in their worldbuilding endeavors. However, his form differed greatly from hers—a form (Y/N) yearned for. She had seen him many times before, puffing his pipe. He had many names, but most knew him as Gandalf.

Two more figures accompanied him, mortal beings aging like the rolling seasons. Burling and tumbling they went, with their countless heavy weapons. One emanated kindness, his heart a wellspring of warmth. She had seen him before too. But the other, he was….troubled.

Another was one of the immortal, graceful, pointy-eared race—elves, she recalled. He was fluid and elegantant. He was observant and evaluating. He was tranquil yet vigorous. (Y/N) liked this one. She always had liked the elves.

From the mountainous regions of unyielding stone came another companion—a burly and gruff figure. His anger resonated in the sharpness of his words and the boastry of his laughter. (Y/N) could feel his temperament through the earth's vibrations. It wasn't always pleasant

Next, matched four more. They were stompers and stumblers, in a clumsy sort of way; yet, it was evident that they held no desire to ravage the earth. If anything, they seemed to harbor deep affection for it. The sad one broke her heart, the kind one warmed her soul, and the last two made her giggle….and sometimes she thought the elf could hear it.

See that was the thing.

Initially, her fascination led her to accompany them, drawn by their sheer otherness—such a strange assembly of beings walking in unison. But as she ventured alongside them, she felt connected to them. She got to know them, and one seemed to know her….sorta.

The first time she noticed such a thing was when a sound of joy escaped her being.

The two silly ones, which she found out to be named Merry and Pippin, were cracking jokes at one another and performing a game of riddles. As they did so, they ended up breaking into an argument. The most ridiculous words they called each other: mushroom murderer, squash squisher, beet beater…..

She couldn’t help but release a whisper of amusement, and when she did, the elf—Legolas—abruptly halted. His eyes brimmed with uncertainty, and he swiveled his head, as though searching for someone.

But he couldn’t….

No…

He couldn’t have heard her….could he?

Of course, occasionally, all could hear her. In moments of anger, she would unleash her fury with deafening howls and piercing screams, causing gusts to bellow and trees to tremble. Her yell created a hollow sound as it funneled through the rest of the world—echoing upon mountains, bouncing off houses, riding along hills, drifting through the farmer’s mills. It took much frustration to create such a ruckus of vibrations. However, just a faint breath of joy? There was no way the elf could hear that….right?

…..

The second time that a strange encounter occurred was when the group stopped by a deep river. Legolas had wandered a little way away from the group where the trees were denser and the light was less, and oh of course (Y/N) followed.

There, the elf stripped off his clothing, letting the moonlight bend and dip upon his muscled form. The cool night air played gently against his bare skin as he ventured into the water, welcoming the invigorating sensation. With his hands, he meticulously scrubbed away any lingering grime, running his palms across his arms and fingers through his damp hair until no trace of dirt remained.

Gently, he laid upon his back, floating at the surface of the smooth river.

(Y/N) watched as he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply and repeatedly. Meditation, she recalled the elvish creatures of the world calling it.

Eager to draw nearer, (Y/N) gracefully glided closer, brushing ever so lightly upon the surface of the ripples. She circled him, her gaze drinking in every detail of his form slightly obstructed by the water—his elegant facial features, his sleek hair, his sculpted biceps, his toned abs, the sharp v-line of his lower abdomen, and, she couldn't help but notice his rather large…

A soft giggle escaped her lips, her warm breath brushing against his cheek.

Instantly, Legolas sprang upright, his feet finding a place upon the rocks beneath the now turbulent ripples. He swiftly pivoted, calling out, “Who’s there?!”

(Y/N) was still, shock and uncertainty shrouding her.

Legolas' cerulean eyes darted anxiously from side to side, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He moved with haste, continually spinning around in search of…..something.

“You…you can hear me?” (Y/N) whispered.

He did not respond and his state did not change. There was not an ounce of any recognition across his features.

…..

The third time that Legolas was startled by the curious enigma that appeared to be haunting him was when the fellowship had set up camp for the night.

Gandalf and Legolas were on watch, their attentive gazes shifting from the crackling fire to the perimeters of their camp. Mithanduil contentedly puffed on his pipe, releasing wisps of smoke that ascended into the night sky. Legolas was methodically sharpening the tips of his arrows, preparing for the inevitable fight. The ambiance was strangely peaceful, with the imminent dangers appearing to be held at bay, at least for the moment, even in the face of the dread.

However, this serene atmosphere suffered a sudden intrusion, initiated by (Y/N)'s ever-present curiosity.

She loved watching the creatures of Arda. It was her favorite pastime over the eons. Well, her only pastime. After all, she was a watcher of wanderers. For, as her shapeless form, there was nothing more she could do with her existence.

Therefore, when the elf began to draw whetstone upon the tops of his arrows, (Y/N) wanted to observe. She crept closer to him, becoming entranced by the rhythmic and tranquil nature of his movements. Drawn into the spectacle, she leaned in further and further until, unintentionally, she brushed lightly against his form.

His hand instinctively reached for his shoulder as his wide cerulean blues initiated their frequent and fervent scanning of the dim surroundings—a routine that seemed to be occurring with increasing regularity nowadays.

Gandalf’s gray eyes drifted upon the elf curiously, his bushy brows lifting in questions.

“I swore…” Legolas began, still peering about the campsite. “I swore I felt…something.”

The wizard’s inquiring gaze only deepened, imploring the elf to add more to his rather empty statement.

Noticing Gandalf's unspoken request for more information, Legolas continued, "My apologies, Mithranduil. Lately, I've been sensing a presence. Yet, when I search for it, I'm met with nothing but emptiness and confusion."

Gandalf huffed before pressing his lips to his pipe again, his gaze drifting away in a dismissal of danger. “It is probably just (Y/N).”

“(Y/N)?” He questioned, still puzzled.

Gandalf glanced at Legolas, and with a nonchalant hum, he spoke again. “The spirit of the wind. A Maiar with a form that knows no shape.” He rolled his eyes as he gruffed out an additional mumbling sentence. “She has a particular fondness for elves.”

Legolas, still flushed with adrenaline, only stared at him. “I—I do not understand.”

The wizard’s gray gaze drifted back to the elf, who was clearly seeking answers. “(Y/N) is one of the Maiar, tasked many ages ago by Manwë to help shape Arda. She still lingers in this realm, often stirring up her usual mischief as she follows wanderers on their adventures."

Legolas frowned. “If she wanders this earth, why can I see her not?”

Gandalf drew another puff from his pipe before responding, "She was cursed to be without form, unlike myself."

“Cursed? But why?”

The wizard raised his bushy brows once more. “Her mischief irked many—especially Manwë.”

“What sorts of mischief do you speak of?”

Gandalf shrugged. “Inconsequential pranks and harmless tricks. Quite frankly, an annoyance to us all, but not dangerous.”

At that very moment, a gust of wind swept in rather forcefully, causing the wizard's beard to billow and lifting his hat into the air, sending it spiraling down to land by his feet.

Legolas's lips parted in surprise as the wind subsided, and Gandalf let out a string of curses and grumbles.

"I believe you might have offended her," Legolas remarked, amusement dancing in his eyes.

The wizard snorted, his irritation obvious, as he picked his hat up and placed it atop his head once more.

….

As the weeks continued on, Legolas took notice of (Y/N)’s subtle presence.

It seemed she was indeed traveling with them. On scorching hot days, a refreshing breeze would rise and caress them gently, offering some much-needed relief. As the autumn months settled in, that coolness transformed into a warm breath flowing through the air, comforting them. When they kindled fires, little gusts rushed forward, providing oxygen and nurturing the flames. If an item of clothing or a parcel were dropped, it would be delicately carried toward a hand ready to collect. It was as if the wind—(Y/N)—was assisting them along their quest.

It was particularly noticeable to Legolas that she often lingered in close proximity to him. Her presence seemed to envelop him frequently, becoming unmistakable and distinct.

When Legolas would be tasked to collect firewood, a gentle breeze would follow him. It would brush leaves out of the way to reveal dry wood and small sticks, perfect for kindling. The wind murmured songs among the soil, almost as if it were beckoning him to dance.

When Legolas would be hunting for food, a calm drift would search alongside him. It would twist through the brush, startling small prey to reveal them to him. The wind breathed wordless encouragement to him, as if challenging him to impress her.

When Legolas would be walking upon hard terrain, a playful gust would walk with him. It would blow his hair away from his face to reveal his features. The wind sent flirtatious laughter upon his elvish ear, chasing shivers along his nerves.

When Legolas would be changing out of mud or blood covered clothes, a devious wisk would linger behind him. It would push his tunic and undershirt upwards to reveal his muscled form then make his extra clothing scatter. The wind whispered sultry glee to him, teasing him in efforts to show more.

This mischievous presence that shrouded him seemed to flirt with him—challenge, play, and engage. Of course, Legolas recalled Gandalf's earlier assertion that the wind spirit held a particular fondness for elves, but the true depth of this fondness had only become apparent as her companionship persisted. He couldn't deny that their ongoing interaction held a certain allure, for he would be lying if he said their little game did not entertain him.

When the fellowship was in Moria, however, silence reigned. The usual gusts and breezes that had accompanied them were absent. It was as if the very air mourned with them. Yet, as soon as they exited, with grief heavy upon their soul, a quick adrenalized wind came to find them. It seemed to brush around the rocks, taking in the pain of the travelers and trying to process what it meant. Though, as the wind noticed one was no longer there, she took to sending warmth their way in hopes to soften the sorrow—shrouding Legolas for just a moment longer than the others.

When the fellowship was in Lothlorien, (Y/N) came too. Rustling up trouble among the elves with flirtatious gusts, lifting skirts and sweeping away cloaks, fostering much annoyance and embarrassment among the immortal elven folk. However, those brushes of wind often struck Legolas more than any other.

When the fellowship—or rather the three that remained—took to sprinting across Arda, the wind ran alongside them. It pushed them forward with encouragement, almost too eagerly and too persistent. It was as if she was whispering ‘hurry hurry’ in their ears—as if she possessed knowledge they did not. Though Legolas suspected neither Gimli nor Aragorn noticed the subtle guidance of the wind.

A watcher of wanderers indeed.

As the group arrived in Rohan, their hearts brimmed with renewed hope, for they had gained the knowledge of Merry and Pippin’s life and the presence of Gandalf.

Following Mithranduil's expulsion of the sorcery that had ensnared King Théoden, the weary travelers were ushered to various chambers where they could refresh themselves and find much-needed rest.

Legolas opted to bathe immediately, determined to liberate himself from the accumulated dirt and grime that had clung to his body through the arduous months of travel. He eased into the in-ground basin, the soothing warmth and enveloping steam creating a cocoon of comfort. He tended to his skin and hair with meticulous care until he finally felt rejuvenated. Elves did not like to linger in grime.

Emerging from the bath, he stepped into the adjacent bedroom, where his gaze was drawn to the open windows, allowing the cool breeze to waft in. The wind seemed to recognize him instantly, rushing forth with an almost mischievous enthusiasm. It nearly yanked his towel from his waist! It was only through his quick reflexes that he narrowly avoided a less than modest reveal.

Legolas ground his teeth. “(Y/N),” he mumbled in a chastising tone.

In response, the wind seemed to giggle, as if playfully toying with him.

He rewrapped the towel and hastened to close the windows, yearning for a night of undisturbed peace. Normally, he would tolerate (Y/N)'s whimsical outbursts, but on this night, his weary body and mind craved respite and tranquility.

Legolas changed into more comfortable attire and settled into his bed. He allowed his heavy eyelids to drift shut, for he craved sleep. But after a brief moment, they snapped open.

He watched as the curtains shifted ever so slightly, followed by the tapestry on the wall and the drapes above his bed. The blanket beside him rustled gently, and then, there was no movement in the room.

She hadn't left when he closed the windows.

She was still here.

Though he couldn't see her, he was acutely aware of her presence…right beside him.

The elf couldn't help but blush, a warm crimson hue creeping up upon his ears and cheeks. Oh, if his Ada knew he was flirting with the wind….

In an effort to divert his thoughts from such matters and avoid giving (Y/N) any indication that he was dwelling on them, the elf shifted onto his side, turning away from the playful Spirit whose home was the sky.

…..

Legolas took notice of (Y/N)’s presence among the battles at Helms Deep and the Fields of Pelennor; although it wasn't until the latter that he knew for sure she was actively fighting alongside him.

Amidst the relentless chaos, the elf wielded his two silver blades, using them with deadly precision to cut the throat of one orc and immediately behead another. He swiftly pressed on, eliminating as many of the enemy forces as he could.

The men around him were growing weary, their energy dwindling, but Legolas continued to stand firm, even though he too felt the drain on his strength.It seemed the dark forces had taken notice of the relentless devastation he was causing among their ranks, as they began to single him out. Hordes of orcs began converging on him, and Sauron's archers took aim. However, the arrows meant for him didn't find their mark. They veered off course, curving with an unexpected gust of wind, plunging directly into three orcs nearby.

Legolas whipped his head around in astonishment, but it took only a moment for him to grasp the source of this unexpected intervention: (Y/N).

As he continued to take down orc after orc, she remained by his side, using her ethereal presence to force the creatures back into one another, granting Legolas a distinct advantage and a brief moment to catch his breath. She deflected arrows aimed at him and extended her helping hand when he faced the Oliphaunt. She even lifted him up with a gentle drift when his footing faltered. (Y/N) followed Legolas throughout the battlefield, her commitment unwavering, even after the war had drawn to a close.

Exhausted and burdened by grief and relief, the mortal, battle-weary soldiers sought solace and took to rest, heal, and eat.

Legolas volunteered to wander the battlefield in search of any survivors.

He tread carefully, his feet moving softly over the blood-soaked and red-stained earth. The ground seemed to bear witness to the agony, uncertainty, and hope that had marked their strenuous journey. Legolas had never anticipated surviving the trials that had befallen him, yet here he stood, alive and persevering against all odds.

With a heavy heart and the absence of survivors to be found, Legolas, fatigued and drained, decided to make his way back to his comrades who were attending to the wounded and offering peace to those in need.

In a sudden fierce gust of wind, Legolas found himself surrounded by an unexpected swirl. Swiftly, he whirled around, his keen elven senses alert, just in time to witness an orc raising an axe menacingly above his head, poised to strike.

However, Legolas was not met with such a gruesome fate. The wind seemed to rise against the approaching beast, as though an invisible force hindered its advance. However, that force began to no longer be invisible. A strange, translucent figure began to materialize into the opaque form of a woman. She stood, her back pressed against his chest and her front pushing firmly against the would-be assailant. With her arms raised high, she held the axe at bay, preventing the deadly blow from falling upon the elf.

Legolas' lips parted in astonishment, his eyes widening as he struggled to comprehend the event unfolding before him. But everything transpired too swiftly for him to intervene. The figure solidified, to the point that he could feel her against him, and the axe came down at an unusual angle, slicing into the woman's side.

A cry escaped her throat, and she collapsed to the ground, her pain echoing through the air.

Suddenly thrust back into the harsh reality of battle, Legolas swiftly grasped the knife strapped to his belt. In one fluid motion, he drove the blade into the orc's heart. The creature gurgled for a moment, blood pooling from its mouth, before finally collapsing lifeless.

Without hesitation, Legolas fell to the unconscious woman crumpled at his feet. His heart clenched with dread as he noticed the crimson stains spreading across the delicate, iridescent fabric that cloaked his form.

"No, no, no," he murmured, his hands pressing against the wound in a frantic attempt to stop the bleeding. Panic tinged his voice as he glanced at her face, his voice rising in desperation, " (Y/N), you foolish Maiar. Why did you intervene? Why did you put yourself in harm's way?" His bloodied hand gently cupped her cheek. "Wake up. Come on, wake up!"

She remained unresponsive.

Swiftly, Legolas gathered her into his arms, keeping one hand pressed against the bleeding wound, and hurried towards the makeshift infirmary.

Pushing the doors open, he called out in a voice laced with fear, "Aragorn!"

Immediately, the urgent tone drew the attention of those nearby, even in the midst of the ongoing chaos of the healing ward. The Ranger, alerted by the distress in his friend's voice, swiftly moved past the curious onlookers, with Gimli at his side and Gandalf following not too far behind.

“A-an ax to the side. She’s bleeding heavily,” he sputtered out. “Please.”

Pointing to a makeshift bed, Aragorn commanded. ‘Get her on that cot! Quickly now.”

Gimili, entirely bewildered by the unfolding events and his friend’s frantic behavior, called out, “Laddie, who is that?!”

Legolas, gently placing her form on the cot, didn't even bother to look at his dwarf companion as he replied. “(Y/N).”

The dwarf shook his head and raised his hands in confusion. “Who the fuck is (Y/N)?!”

The elf sent Gimli a quick, almost exasperated glance. "The wind!" he snapped back, a bit too sharply.

Gimli’s eyes drifted around the room, his confusion turning into concern for his friend’s well being. “The wind?” he questioned. “Did ya happen to get knocked in the head, tree boy?”

It was Gandalf that chimed in. “(Y/N), a Maiar, the spirit of the wind. She has been with us throughout our journey.”

Aragorn shot the wizard a brief look as he swiftly cut away the mysterious, translucent fabric cloaking the woman and began tending to the deep, bleeding wound.

“With us the entire time?!” Gimli bellowed. “Then why haven't I seen her once?"

Gandalf peered over Aragorn’s shoulder. “She doesn't have a corporal form. At least, she didn’t. I’m afraid this is the first time any of us are seeing her.”

Legolas ran his bloodied hands through his hair, his fingers trembling with anxiety as he stepped back. His chest felt constricted with worry while his eyes remained fixated on the woman as Aragorn worked. “Can you do it, Aragorn? Can you save her?” he implored, his voice quivering with a mixture of desperation and hope.

The man met Legolas' gaze. His determination to save her was unwavering, even in the face of this strange reveal of a profound connection between a force he didn't know existed and his dear friend. Seeing Legolas’ pain, he responded firmly, "I will try."

Gimli, moving to stand beside the wizard, watched the scene with a mixture of concern and curiosity. He couldn't help but murmur, "I've never seen him so frazzled before." His words were filled with a deep sense of empathy for his elven friend, for this had clearly shaken Legolas to his core.

Gandalf let his gaze shift from the elf to Gimli, offering the dwarf a knowing look in response.

The watcher of wanderers had now become a wonder to the wanderers themselves.

……

Legolas sat in a chair beside (Y/N). He was quiet and still as he watched her chest rise and fall steadily. Aragorn had successfully treated her wound, preventing infection, though she remained unconscious. She rested soundlessly, her expression peaceful—despite Legolas’ bloody handprint, now brown, dried, and cracking, that lingered upon her cheek. Her features were graceful and elegant. Each curve and bend of her face accentuated her beauty. He wasn't sure what he had expected her to look like, though how she appeared made sense with her temperament. He could see her flirtatious streak, her mischievous tone, and her protective aurora. She was exactly what wind would be: strong yet gentle, fierce yet calm, emotional yet stern.

He watched over her, just as she had watched over him. So intently, that he didn't notice one behind him until a hand pressed firmly upon his shoulder.

"Legolas," Aragorn began, his expression filled with gentle concern as he inquired, "How do you know this woman?"

Legolas sighed, keeping his gaze on her. "She has been traveling with us," he explained.

The sound of wood scraping against stone told the elf that the Ranger pulled a nearby chair over to sit next to him.

“So Gandalf said. Though I do not understand,” Aragorn admitted.

Legolas shifted. “I started to notice strange occurrences—unexplained events.”

Aragorn raised a brow, “Strange occurrences?”

Legolas felt his cheeks heat as he cleared his throat. “Yes, yes, but more importantly, I noticed something helping us. Consistently.” He paused, “I asked Mithranduil about it and he told me of her.” He shook his head. “He said she was cursed to watch us—us inhabitants of Arda—and not be able to walk among us.”

“Then how is she here now before us, like this.”

Legolas glanced at his hands, a hint of nervousness in his expression. “I asked Mithranduil that too,” he admitted. ��He said her sacrifice must have ended her limbo.” He then let his eyes land on his friend and he spoke once more, his tone almost fearful and definitely shy—something Aragorn had never seen from the elf. “If she doesn't survive, because of me, will Arda have wind no longer? I haven't felt a single breeze since she fell.”

Aragorn sighed. “I do not know, my friend. I do not know.” He reached forward and placed his hand upon his shoulder. “Please go clean up and rest. You are no good to her like this. I will take care of her, I promise.”

Legolas hesitated, “But what if she wakes?”

The Ranger sighed again, “If she wakes, I will send someone to—”

He was interrupted by a soft groan escaping from the lips of the Wind Spirit.

Instantly, both Legolas and Aragorn turned to look at the woman.

Her eyelids lazily blinked open, and she gradually became aware of her surroundings. A frown creased her face as she emitted another groan. Her hand moved slowly, making its way down to her bandaged side.

"What... what is this feeling?" she murmured to herself, puzzled by the sensations.

To her astonishment, Legolas responded, “Pain.”

She scrambled to sit upright in bed, the pain surging through her body but the sheer force of adrenaline propelled her actions. “You–you can hear me?” she whispered, eyes wide.

Legolas moved closer, taking a seat on the edge of the cot. In a gentle tone, he answered, "I can hear you. I can see you." He tenderly raised his hand to her cheek, resting it on the dried bloody mark already there. "And I can feel you."

A hushed gasp escaped her lips as she reached up to touch his hand. "It's... it's warm," she remarked, her voice filled with surprise. "I didn't expect it to be warm."

The elf smiled gently in response.

A mischievous smirk then graced her lips, and her gaze, rather unmistakably, wandered down his figure and briefly settled upon his pants. “Is everything this warm?” she inquired with a teasing tone.

Taken aback by her words and her brazen gaze, he cleared his throat. A noticeable flush crept across his cheeks and ears as he broke eye contact. With that, Legolas turned to face Aragorn, who stood behind him with raised eyebrows and a playful grin forming at the corner of his mouth. “My apologies, Aragorn.” He glanced back at the Wind Spirit. “(Y/N), this is—”

She interrupted him, her eyes on the other man. “I know who he is,” she said with confidence. “Aragorn, son of Arathorn the second, also called Strider or Wingfoot, Chieftain of the Dúnedain, and the Uncrowned King of Gondor.”

The expressions on both men's faces contorted, morphing to sheer astonishment—how did she know all that?

(Y/N) grinned sheepishly. "I am the wind," she confessed. "I see and hear a great deal."

…..

The Minas Tirith Castle was cloaked in the deep shroud of a late moonlit night as Legolas walked through its ancient halls. The soft flickering of torchlight painted wavering shadows on the weathered stone walls, lending an atmosphere that resonated with the weight of its history. His footsteps were silent as he moved, and his thoughts followed suit, meandering through the corridors of his mind.

However, up ahead, a figure bathed in a gentle glow caused Legolas to abruptly halt in his tracks, his thoughts instantly converging on the woman.

“(Y/N),” he called out, approaching her. “What are you doing away from the House of Healing? You shouldn't be out of bed. You should be resting!”

She let out an exasperated sigh, not appreciating his chastising tone. "I am a watcher of wanderers, Legolas. Therefore, I too am a voyager. It is not in my nature to stay still."

Legolas released a heated breath through his nose. “That may be true, but you now have a corporal form. No longer are you just a breeze.”

She rolled her eyes, shifting her feet to hide the persistent pain emanating from her side. “I may not be a breeze any longer, but I still control all the winds of Arda. I could knock you on your ass in seconds, injured or not.”

Legolas chuckled lightly. “I never would have gotten involved with the wind if I knew she was so temperamental,” he teased.

(Y/N), suppressing a grin, responded with a snarky retort. “Oh, so we are involved, are we?”

The elf sent her a look, trying to hide his expression of amusement. “I would be naive to think that all the times the wind flirted with me, it was just a ploy.”

“Maybe I enjoy a ploy from century to century, Legolas,” she replied.

He laughed lightly at her jest, then took a step closer, his demeanor shifting to one of seriousness. Gently, he pressed his hand to her bandaged side. “(Y/N),” he began softly. “Why did you do it? Why did you get in between that orc and I?”

She looked up at him, her eyes gleaming with sincerity. “You know why.”

“Say it,” he commanded.

“Because,” she began, her tone becoming shy and soft. “Because, I—I love you.”

Instantly, Legolas wrapped his arm around her back, pulling her close to him. He pressed his lips fervently against hers. As their mouths met with equal intensity, he tasted the essence of the wind. And oh, it tasted of adventure, suffering, and joy. It tasted of warm bread from the north, bitter nuts from the east, clear water from the south, and fresh fruit from the west. It tasted of eons and eons of wandering, yet still, she tasted of home. Her hands found their way into his golden locks of hair, twisting and tugging it lightly. He allowed her to siphon off his heat, for the wind was often cold and bellowing. Though, he could tell she was taking more than just his warmth—she was taking his love; and oh, he gladly gave it to her.

…..

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wonwoonlight · 6 months

Text

just one day / yoon jeonghan

⇢ Jeonghan x fem!Reader

⇢ word count: 4.5k

⇢ fluff // angst // nonidol!au // brother's best friend // fake dating!au // they're idiots lmao // not edited nor proofread so pls bear w me lol // cursing and. two? kissing scenes.

⇢ A/N: this has been sitting unfinished in my google drive since... either last year or the beginning of this year lmao. i have always wanted to write brother's best friend and i had this sudden urge to finish it earlier so i did. been some time since i posted a proper fic so, enjoy~

He must be dreaming.

He must be.

“What?” Jeonghan says just for the sake of saying it.

“I like you.”

“No, you don’t.”

You blink at his firm voice, wondering what kind of situation this is. Sure, you shouldn’t be confessing to your brother’s best friend, but you feel like you’ve been obvious enough and you don’t see why you shouldn’t confess when it’s been eating you inside out.

And, yeah, you didn’t expect him to do anything about your confession (or even say that he likes you back), but you didn’t expect this either.

“What do you mean I don’t?” you frown, looking at him accusingly. “I like you.”

“You don’t, kid.” He sighs, already feeling a headache coming. He’s not stupid, alright, he has enough sense to gather that his best friend’s little sister probably has something on him–a crush, perhaps, but he’s never thought it was real enough for you to feel the need to confess.

It doesn’t help that he is attracted to you, has always been since you’ve gone back from Sydney after finishing university a year ago. He admits he’s always thought you’re attractive, and if he’s being honest, he would’ve asked you out first if not for the fact that you’re literally Joshua Hong’s little sister.

As if it’s not enough that not dating his best friend’s little sister has always been a code he follows, Shua has always been a little too protective as a brother. He’s seen firsthand how the guy scared off some who had the guts to flirt with you, seen how for two decades only two guys had ever been declared good enough to date you (he couldn’t do anything about the flings you had when you were abroad, but at least you’ve always been appreciative of his protectiveness and you never missed to inform him of some guys who were actually trying to get it on with you).

Long story short, Jeonghan does not wish to be on the receiving end of Shua’s scrutinizing eyes regardless of how much he’s actually into you.

“Look, you know me,” he starts when he realizes you’re not backing down. He looks away, pretending to be frustrated, though it’s really just because he thinks he’ll relent if he looks into your eyes a second longer. “I’m not gonna make a good boyfriend and I’m literally your brother’s best friend.”

You don’t seem to care about the first part of his sentence, irked by the fact that him being best friend with Shua would be an obstacle in your way. Shouldn’t it be easier for him to get a seal of approval if he’s already close with your brother? But, then again, Shua probably knows Jeonghan inside out and knowing too much is never a good thing.

“So what?” you say anyway, because if there’s any word that would describe you perfectly, it’s ‘stubborn’. “Why does it matter that you’re his best friend?”

Jeonghan sends you a look, and you pout because you actually get what he means. You know Shua, after all, and as much as you want to condition yourself to believe that Jeonghan would be the person Shua approves of with all his heart, you also know that even if your brother actually approves, he would put him through hell just for the fun of it.

Anyway, this doesn’t tell you at all where Jeonghan actually stands about you.

“So, you don’t like me?” you shoot straight to it, as if Jeonghan wouldn’t be able to hear your heart beating like there’s no tomorrow if he takes even one step closer–as if your ears aren’t hot from saying it out loud. Jeonghan does not need to know how flustered you actually are.

And it works, because he seems to be taken aback by your boldness and you try your best to hide a victory grin at that. You should probably be more grateful that he can’t stand to look at you for more than three seconds; if he had, he would’ve seen the tip of your ears turning red and the speck of blush on your face, which means he could’ve easily taken control of the situation and turned it against you.

His silence encourages you, because if he really doesn’t like you then he would tell you so. As much as Jeonghan is a master of tricks and he’s great at acting, he’s never been good at hiding his feelings.

Jeonghan bites his lip, trying to get a way out of this. Why can’t he just say no and be done with it? Sure, he’s not in love with you or anything (yet?), but it’s a straight out lie to say he’s never seen you that way.

After all, there’s a reason why he’s been avoiding you the past few months.

You just have to be more daring these days, and as much as he wills himself to behave, there are times when he’s already flirting with you before he knows it. He’s just lucky Shua has never caught you two.

Plus, you’ve taken a liking to wearing a crop top and it’s the absolute death of him.

“Tell you what,” you say before he does. “Date me.”

Jeonghan chokes on nothing, violently coughs that his shoulders are shaking and you actually need to pat his back so he’ll calm down.

“Are you okay?” You ask worriedly, and he’s terribly conscious of your hand on his shoulder and the other on his arm, of the way your brows furrow in concern, of the way your lips are a little ajar and if he moves forward just a little–

“Yeah.” He shakes his head despite the word, then clears his throat and squares his shoulders before he looks the other way around. He doesn’t step away though, and it’s so fucking stupid that he frowns when you do. “Sorry. You were saying?”

“Date me.” You repeat anyway, though you know this is Jeonghan’s way of giving you an out in case you want to pretend like you didn’t just say that earlier. He opens his mouth, and you can hear what he’s going to say even if he hasn’t said anything so you cut him yet again. “Just for one day.”

“Kid–”

“Stop,” you say firmly, something akin to determination flashes through your eyes that he’s actually taken aback. “Stop calling me that.”

He sighs out your name, but you’re not hearing it because if you back down now you know you won’t have it in you to say this out loud again. You’re fueled by nothing but impulse and you’re not going to let Yoon Jeonghan himself slow you down.

“Han, I see the way you look at me–you’ve gone past seeing me as a kid since I came back from Sydney and it’s been a year since then. I’m not stupid.”

It’s hard to describe the way he looks at you, and he’s not blaming you because he is confused. The mixed feelings bursting in his chest is much too complicated for him to explain. Let alone through words, even his consciousness does not know how to register what he’s feeling.

Your face falls at his silence, and whatever courage that drives you up to this point is starting to ebb little by little. You’re so goddamn stupid–did you really think confessing to him would lift the weight off your shoulders? What made you think Jeonghan would be able to treat you as usual after you confessed?

Didn’t you confess only because it’s heaving you down? Because you thought you’d regret it if you stayed silent?

Then what is this weight on your chest?

What is this disappointment looming all over your body?

Why the fuck are your eyes pricking with tears?

Still, you stand your ground and square yourself up in front of him. You’ve gone this far. If you’re going to be embarrassing, might as well do it for a reason.

“Okay,” he breaks his silence, his tone defeated for whatever reason. It’s not discouraging though, more like unsure and maybe a little hopeful, and when you look up, he’s biting his lip in contemplation. “Just one day, right?”

“But you have to actually treat me like I’m your girlfriend.” You push, heart beating both in excitement and fear. Because what if he backs out of nowhere? He’s not that kind of person, but this situation is nothing sort of normal and his consciousness just might get to him if you don’t push him already.

Jeonghan bites his lip, looking at you like you’re a bad idea that he’s caving into. And he’s starting to think that it’s true. But if he’s being honest, he’s not against this at all. He also wants to know how it’d feel like to hold your hands and just listen to you talk without thinking about Shua and whatever that will follow if he ever finds out.

Frankly, one day wouldn’t be enough, but that’s better than nothing, right? And he would never have the guts to propose it himself, he admits, so this is a chance that he knows he wouldn’t get his hands on ever again.

He sighs, praying to every god up there that this won’t backfire on him.

“Okay,” he whispers, more to himself than to you, and then repeats it once again, this time firmer, looking at you straight in the eyes. “Shua’s going on a business trip next week, right?”

You nod.

“I’ll see you next Saturday?”

You bite down your lip so hard that you taste blood to stop yourself from smiling like an idiot.

Tuesday, 26 July

[14:32] Yoon Jeonghan😠: beach or amusement park

[14:50] ?????

[14:50] its not a surprise?

[14:54] Yoon Jeonghan😠: just pick one, kid

[14:55] 🙄 beach ig

Thursday, 28 July

[01:11] Yoon Jeonghan😠: festival or night market

[01:12] ?????? sir?? go to sleep??

[01:12] didnt you choose a place alrd???

[01:12] but night market

[01:13] Yoon Jeonghan😠: you go to sleep

Yoon Jeonghan😠 is typing…

…

Yoon Jeonghan😠 is typing…

[01:17] Yoon Jeonghan😠: good night, kid

[01:18] nightttttt

Friday, 29 July

[22:20] Yoon Jeonghan😠: wear something light tomorrow, but bring a jacket just in case it gets cold at night

Saturday, 30 July

[00:03] k, boyfriend 😌

[00:03] sorry, i was on the phone with chaeyoung earlier

[00:07] Yoon Jeonghan😠: i really cant with you

[00:07] Yoon Jeonghan😠: and chaeyoung as in vernon’s cousin? your friend from high school?

[00:07] Yoon Jeonghan😠: you still talk to her?

[00:08] yes!! surprised that u rmb her :0

[00:08] and i actually just met her by accident earlier today and we decided to catch up thru the phone bc i had to go somewhere

[00:09] apparently, she’s dating choi seungcheol or smth 👀

Incoming call from Yoon Jeonghan😠 - 00:11

Call ended - 02:27

[02:27] Yoon Jeonghan😠: you fell asleep. night, babe 🤪 see you

You bite your lip in giddiness as you keep on rereading Jeonghan’s text, like you’re not giddy enough already at the prospect of today.

You fell asleep last night while on the phone with Jeonghan, but whatever curse you were about to dump into yourself for falling asleep during what might be your only chance to be on the phone with Jeonghan during ungodly hours was immediately wiped out when you saw his text.

Yes, you’d flirt with each other from time to time–but never through texts, and the prospect of having a message from him that you can read over and over again some time in the future is both delightful and… sad.

The sudden tug on your heart and consciousness is a little heavy, a reminder that he’s doing that because you asked him to. That whatever’s happening in the span of today is an illusion, one that Jeonghan agrees on creating.

Why, you don’t want to dwell on it too much.

That should be your motto for the day: fuck it.

So what if it was an illusion? Jeonghan agreed and you’re going to make the best out of it. If you’re never going to be Jeonghan’s girlfriend, might as well be shameless and live your teenage (and adult, if you’re being honest) dream and be his girlfriend for the day now so you can stamp it in your memory. You only have today and you’re not going to spend any second thinking about the technicality of it.

As far as you know, Jeonghan is your boyfriend and he’s taking you out for the day.

You jump when your phone pings, the notification on your lockscreen rids you of whatever negativity that was in your mind literally seconds ago as you grin and make your way out of your apartment.

[09:17] Yoon Jeonghan😠: am in the lobby. get ur pretty self here, angel.

For all you know, the world is plenty unfair. But seeing Jeonghan looking like that with a simple white tee and a faded pair of jeans reminds you just how unfair the world actually is. Like it’s not unfair enough already because he’s not your actual boyfriend.

“Come on, let me take a picture of you,” he says as he softly takes your hand, pulling you up from the mat. “The wind isn’t too strong and you’re looking particularly pretty today.”

You scrunch your nose as you mock annoyance, a failed attempt to mask your blush. Hopefully, Jeonghan would think you’re simply flushed because of the sun and not because of him.

“I don’t like taking pictures.”

“How dare you lie to me.” Jeonghan says without missing a beat. “I know you make Shua take a ton shit pictures of you when you’re out somewhere.”

You pout at this, and as much as you know Jeonghan doesn’t mean anything by it, the mention of your brother isn’t exactly welcome today because his name just reminds you that this isn’t real and he’s a big part of the reason why.

“Can you not talk about my brother?” You say softly, which Jeonghan easily catches even if he’s not sure you mean for him to hear or not. The sadness in your voice is genuine though, and he makes a mental note to stop mentioning Joshua for the rest of the day. He’s starting to question once again if this is the right thing to do even for a day–after all, Joshua is his best friend, and this particular conversation is the exact reason why he’s not supposed to do this.

But he’s promised you he’ll treat you like his girlfriend–perhaps another personal agenda of his because he does want to experience being able to be your boyfriend even for a day. He should’ve thought more before okay-ing your proposal instead of thinking about it right now when you’re in front of him, in a simple white shirt and a black skirt that stops just below the middle of your thigh but somehow still the prettiest he’s ever seen.

He wonders if this is how you usually dress up for your dates, and something bitter makes it to the tip of his tongue as he thinks about someone else taking you on a date.

“Sorry. Come on, let’s take a picture together.” His fingers wrap around your wrist to pull you closer before eventually linking them with yours. “You’re very pretty today, have I told you?”

“You have.” You scrunch your nose and pretend to roll your eyes at the sudden sweetness he basks you in even though you’re liking every second of it. “Literally one minute ago.”

“Well, you really do look very beautiful and I want you to know.” He lowers his voice an octave and stares right into your eyes before he eventually bursts out laughing.

“Stop!” You giggle, knowing that he’s doing this on purpose to annoy you. “That’s too fucking cheesy and you know it.”

He laughs along with you, then tightens his fingers in yours like they’re not interlocked already.

“I mean it though.” He whispers one last time, not looking at you this time around because his heart might fucking burst to say it to your face without the faux of messing with you. “You do look beautiful.”

At least you share the sentiment, as you quietly duck your head to hide your smile, whispering a thanks that’s only meant for the two of you.

Jeonghan keeps his end of the bargain, you’re happy to know, as you don’t even think about your brother and the pretense that is your relationship for the rest of the day. You freely flirt with each other, cheeky smile and winks being thrown here and there. His hands never seem to leave you, and you gladly cling on to him even if you don’t need to.

You get ice cream, insist that you want the plain strawberry one only to eventually switch with Jeonghan’s cookies and creams because his looks better. He plays hard to get before giving in to you, but not before swiping ice cream from the side of your lips and licks his thumb like that shit isn’t going to give you a heart attack.

It’s around seven when you both get to the night market not too far from the beach, and you’re both even gigglier than earlier which you didn’t think was possible. Your cheeks hurt from smiling, but you’re the furthest thing from complaining as you continue at whatever dumb jokes Jeonghan throws your way.

The night market isn’t as crowded as you think it would be, but it still is crowded and Jeonghan makes a show of throwing his arm around your shoulder because he ‘doesn’t want to lose you’ and you seem a little cold (which you kinda are).

You elbow him at this, shake your head and pretend like you’re not internally dying from the closeness between the two of you.

“That’s so lame.” You snicker. “Just say you want me close and go.”

“I do want you close.” He whispers unexpectedly, catching you entirely off guard that you trip on your own foot you almost fall on your face. He doesn’t seem to realize you tripped because you’re flustered, which works good for you, and he flicks your forehead as he scolds you to be more careful and goes back to holding your hand.

“Seriously. How are you still so clumsy?”

You don’t like being reprimanded by Jeonghan, because it awfully reminds you that you’re younger than him–that you’re his best friend’s little sister. And as much as you know Jeonghan definitely does not see you as a sister, the implication that he has to see you as one because of the association is very disheartening.

“Why are you frowning?” He copies the gesture, and you shake your head, telling him it’s nothing. The night is ending, and you don’t want to waste more time thinking about stuff that you can think of tomorrow when you’re not in a time limited relationship with Yoon Jeonghan. “No, tell me–”

“Jeonghan?”

The both of you turn at the call of his name, and your frown deepens as you see Jisoo in front of you, Jeonghan’s ex that he amicably broke up with. The one ex that has always made you feel like shit because she’s everything you’re not and they were such a picture perfect couple that you’re sure they’d go back together someday.

It does not feel good to see her today of all days.

“Oh, hi!” She kindly greets you, her smile way too genuine for you to think she’s just being polite and secretly hates you inside. Gosh. You need to stop watching too many TV dramas. “Joshua’s sister… right?”

There it is again. The reminder that you’re his sister–something you really don’t need to hear today.

“Hi.” You smile awkwardly, and only then remember your hand is still pretty much joined with Jeonghan’s. You don't know how to feel about the fact that his reflex is not to let go of your hand in front of his ex who obviously knows your brother. You try to let go of his hand, but Jeonghan holds on tighter, as if telling you it’s okay and there’s no need to worry about Jisoo.

They share a small chat for a bit before eventually parting, and Jisoo wishes you both a good night, which makes you hate yourself so much for being jealous of the girl when she doesn’t even have an ounce of bad energy towards you.

You try to enjoy the rest of the night, but Jisoo’s appearance just reminds you that this whole thing is pretty much fake. That someone out there is going to be in your place for real–able to hold his hand and just be with him all the time without having to wait for your brother to go on a business trip to even hang out with each other. Without some stupid request and guilt eating them inside out because they’re not supposed to do this.

Trying to be subtle, you put on an act of wanting to visit every stall in the festival and pretend to be tired after about thirty minutes or so. You’re surprised Jeonghan isn’t already tired to begin with, this guy has the battery of a five-years-old phone, you didn’t expect him to actually bring you around until night if you’re being completely honest.

Jeonghan complies when you tell him you’re ready to go home, and you don’t even realize he’s also being weirdly quiet because you’re too deep in your thoughts. And it’s once his car is parked on the parking lot of your apartment building that you finally open your mouth trying to say something–anything.

You want to thank him for today. To thank him for making a memory that you’ll dearly hold on to, for giving you a standard of what a boyfriend is supposed to be even for a day. For fulfilling your dumb request when he doesn’t even have to.

But what comes out of your mouth is something entirely different and you almost want to bash your head against the door of his car right after.

“Whoever’s going to be your girlfriend is very lucky.”

You can hear Jeonghan takes a sharp breath, and you bite your lip to stop yourself from crying because you’re just so fucking stupid like that.

You try to remind yourself that you asked for this. That Jeonghan is doing you a favour and owes you nothing. That you should be thankful you’ve even gotten the chance to play girlfriend with him when he could’ve just embarrassed you and walked away after your proposal.

The deafening silence inside the car is very loud, and you feel like you’re suffocated by things unseen that you just want to get out of the car and take a very deep breath. So you do just that: reach for the door of his car because you can’t take being so close to him anymore.

It’s your fault. You shouldn’t have asked for this. Shouldn’t have asked for a taste of heaven because surely you would want more and you’ll die of thirst right after. Now you’re just going to be awkward with him until god knows when and you’re regretting it already. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You should’ve been satisfied with your close friendship with him, with loving him from afar. Now you’ve ruined things between you and him and who knows when things will get back to normal? He’ll fucking think of you as pathetic and it’s just going to be pity in his eyes everytime he looks at you now.

“Hey!” Jeonghan jumps in alert the moment you step out of his car, quickly follows through and catches you before you take another step away from him. “What–why are you in such a hurry?”

You look down to your shoes, because you can’t stomach looking at him right now just in case you’ll see what you fear will be reflected in his eyes.

“Hey… Look at me?” He tries once again, tone getting a little helpless. But you shake your head, because you’re sure you’ll start crying if you do and you want to preserve the little dignity you still have in front of him. But Jeonghan doesn’t stop there, he whispers a ‘please?’ and lifts your chin gently so you’ll look at him, his heart breaking when he sees how close you are to tears and his throat closing at how he’s the reason behind all this.

“Thank you.” You brave yourself. It’s the least you can do, because as much as you’re going to grovel for the next few months, you know that this particular memory with Jeonghan will always be dear to your heart and you’ll treasure it forever. “I’m sorry for taking your time and–”

“Ah, fuck it.” You hear him say before he dives into your lips, not minding the way you’re frozen in place out of shock. He hums against your lips, and it’s then that you finally kiss him back, your hands settle over his shoulders and your whole body relaxed under his touch.

When the both of you pull away, you’re a little out of breath and your thoughts all over the place. But there’s a small smile in Jeonghan’s face that gets you mirroring the gesture. He closes his eyes as he places his forehead on yours, and you follow suit, feeling the warmth of his breath on your face.

“It’s… okay for me to do that, right?” He asks, albeit a little too late. You still don’t know what the whole things mean, but you find yourself chuckling, because you honestly would let him do anything to you. But he doesn’t need to know the kind of power he has over you, so you simply nod and let him have his peace.

“Han?” You say after a while. “What does this mean for us?”

Jeonghan stares into your eyes, deep in his own thoughts as if he’s trying to rearrange his words so they don’t stumble out of his mouth like a trainwreck.

“Let’s see where this takes us?”

“But Shua…?”

He presses his lips together and wraps his arms around you, pushing you into his neck as he breathes in your scent.

“Whatever happens, happens.” He decides, already resigning that he can’t possibly let you go now that he knows how it feels like to have you like this. He’ll make your brother understand somehow, but right now, he wants to be with you and savors the little time he has with you before your brother comes back, not even minding the way his phone has been vibrating in his pocket.

[Joshua sent a picture.]

Joshua: heard from Jisoo you’re on a date w my sister??????????????????

Joshua: did you finally get out of your ass and stop being in denial lmaoooooooooooooo

Joshua: just pls be safe

Joshua: she’s still my sister

Joshua: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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