#I hope to come back to this au soon but the next part is giving me some trouble

[brunchable]

Winter King, Part Four : Afterglow [18+]

Pairings: King AU Bucky Barnes x Out of place Queen Reader Words: 25.6K Themes: Royaltycore AU, love and power, arranged Marriage, georgian/regency era misogyny, profanity. Warning: Sinister intent (Drugging, Sabotage). Torture, mentions of blood. Sexual Content - Losing Virginity, unprotected piv sex, Oral (F). Big size difference. Summary: After a tumultuous separation, Queen Y/N receives a desperate letter from King James Bucky Barnes, pleading for her presence in Annecy. Reluctantly, she agrees to meet him, only to be confronted with unresolved emotions, simmering tension, and a fragile hope for reconciliation. Amidst grand dinners and intimate revelations, Bucky strips himself bare—not just of his regal façade but also the deepest scars of his past. In the midst of courtly games and political intrigue, will their love survive, or will it be another casualty of the crown? A/N: Inspired by Queen Charlotte. I'm sorry it's so long lol. I hope you enjoy the SMUT SCENES. . . what do you want to see next? credits to the gif owners, it ain't mine.

The sound of footsteps drew your attention away from the window, where you had been staring absently swaying trees on this windy day. Scott’s familiar presence hovered by the door, his posture stiff, yet there was something… cautious in the way he approached you. His gaze darted around before finally settling on the envelope in his hand.

“A letter for you, My Queen,” he announced, extending it toward you. “From His Majesty.”

You blinked, your heart giving an unexpected flutter at those words. Bucky? He had finally reached out. But you quickly tamped down the unwelcome swell of hope, narrowing your eyes at the innocent piece of parchment.

“Leave it on the desk,” you instructed curtly, turning back toward the window, fighting to maintain your composure.

Scott hesitated, his gaze lingering on you as if contemplating whether to say something more. But he gave a sharp nod, placing the letter on the desk beside you before withdrawing quietly. The door clicked shut, leaving you alone in the quiet, with only the letter as company.

You stood there staring at the creamy white envelope as if it were a serpent poised to strike. It sat there, mocking you with its pristine perfection, the royal seal pressed into the wax glinting in the dim light.

With a huff of frustration, you snatched it up, breaking the seal more aggressively than necessary. The wax crumbled beneath your fingers, the crackling sound oddly satisfying. Unfolding the letter, your eyes skimmed over the familiar scrawl of his handwriting—precise and strong, just like the man himself.

My Dearest Y/N,

I know I’ve hurt you. I know I’ve pushed you away. But I need to see you—to speak with you without anger clouding our words. Please, come to Annecy this evening. I need to see you, if only for a few hours.

Yours, James

You stared at the words, a myriad of emotions rushing through you. Anger, for how easily he thought he could summon you. Resentment, for the pain he had caused. But beneath it all, it made the ache in your chest tighten in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

“‘If only for a few hours,’” you muttered, reading the line again, your lips pressing into a thin line. “As if one meeting could fix everything.”

But even as the angry words left your mouth, you knew you would go. Damn him, for knowing that you couldn’t resist this fragile olive branch he was extending. A chance to see him, to hear him—to finally understand what was going on inside his head.

You glanced outside again, noting the dusky sky deepening into twilight. The evening was already upon you, and if you were to make it to Annecy by nightfall, you would need to leave soon.

With a resigned sigh, you turned back to the letter, your fingers brushing lightly over the words. You didn’t want to admit it, but a part of you—the part that still remembered the way his gaze softened when he looked at you, the way his voice dropped when he said your name—yearned to go.

Maybe… maybe this time, you’d get some answers.

“Scott,” you called, your voice steady despite the turmoil swirling inside you.

He appeared almost instantly, his expression expectant.

“Prepare the carriage,” you ordered, folding the letter and slipping it back into the envelope. “We’re going to Annecy. Tonight.”

Scott’s eyes widened in surprise, but he bowed quickly, masking his reaction with a swift nod. “Of course, Your Grace. I’ll have everything ready at once.”

As he hurried out of the room, you took one last look at the letter, then slipped it into the pocket of your gown. The anger simmering in your chest hadn’t completely vanished, but it was no longer the driving force behind your actions.

You would go to Annecy tonight. And you would hear what he had to say. But you would do so on your terms, with your walls firmly in place.

× × × ×

The carriage rolled to a slow halt, the rhythmic clatter of hooves fading into silence as you glanced out of the window. The familiar grounds of Annecy stretched out before you, shrouded in the soft glow of twilight. Lanterns flickered to life along the pathways, casting a warm, golden light that danced across the cobblestone and neatly trimmed hedges.

A footman stepped forward to open the door, offering his hand as you descended. The hem of your gown brushed against the ground as you took in the estate—the sweeping lawns and carefully sculpted gardens, and the imposing silhouette of the mansion against the evening sky.

But there was no sense of awe, no appreciation for the beauty that surrounded you. Your chest felt tight, anger simmering just below the surface as you squared your shoulders and lifted your chin, determined to keep your composure.

“Your Grace,” Scott murmured quietly from beside you, his voice tentative. “Shall I accompany you inside?”

You shook your head, barely sparing him a glance. “You can,” you ordered, your tone clipped and curt. “I won’t be long.”

Scott’s brow furrowed slightly, concern flickering in his eyes, but he nodded. “As you wish, Your Grace.”

You turned away from him and began your ascent up the grand staircase, the soft rustle of your skirts and the distant chirping of crickets the only sounds accompanying you. Two guards flanked the massive double doors leading into the mansion. They bowed as you approached and opened the entrance for you, revealing a grand foyer lit with chandeliers and brimming with quiet opulence.

The steward appeared almost immediately, bowing low. “Your Grace, His Majesty is awaiting you in the dining hall.”

You nodded stiffly, following his lead as he guided you down the long, silent corridor. The air was thick with anticipation, the echoes of your footsteps reverberating off the marble floors. Each step you took felt heavier, the anger you had tried to keep at bay during the ride flaring up with every second that passed.

Finally, the steward opened a pair of gilded doors, stepping aside to let you pass. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself as you stepped into the room.

The scent of roasted meats, fresh herbs, and baked pastries filled the air—an exquisite spread laid out over a long, polished table. Plates gleamed under the candlelight, and goblets of fine wine shimmered like liquid rubies.

But all of it—the decadence, the beauty, the carefully curated feast—turned to ashes in your mouth the moment you saw it.

Your steps faltered, eyes widening as they took in the elaborate arrangement. An intimate dinner for two, set with painstaking care. It was as though someone had plucked the image of a perfect evening out of a dream and tried to force it into reality.

You turned sharply, refusing to take another step inside.

Bucky, who had been standing at the opposite end of the table, his expression hopeful, froze as you spun back around, your face pale with restrained fury.

“Y/N, wait—”

“What is this?” you demanded, your voice cold, your gaze sweeping over the table again before landing back on him. “What are you trying to do?”

His brow furrowed, confusion flashing across his face. “I… I wanted to have dinner with you. To—”

“Dinner?” The word burst out of you like a bitter laugh, devoid of any humor. “You dragged me all the way here for dinner?”

His mouth opened, but whatever he had planned to say fell silent at the look on your face. You could feel your body trembling with the effort to hold back the wave of anger surging inside you, anger that had been simmering since he had begun this dance of hot and cold, sweet words followed by crushing silence.

“Prepare the carriage,” you bit out to Scott, who had followed behind, your voice leaving no room for argument.

“Your Majesty?” Scott glanced between you and Bucky, uncertainty creasing his brow.

“Now, Scott,” you snapped, your heart pounding in your chest. You could feel Bucky’s gaze boring into your back, and you kept walking, your gown billowing behind you like a storm cloud—refusing to let him see the emotions simmering just beneath the surface.

“Y/N, wait,” Bucky called out, the confusion in his tone sharpening. You heard his footsteps quicken, the soft thud of boots against marble as he closed the distance between you. “Where are you going?”

“Away from you,” you said through gritted teeth, your pace never faltering. “Back to the estate. I shouldn’t have come.”

“Wait—stop walking this instant!” Bucky’s voice rose, a hint of desperation breaking through. He reached for your arm, his fingers brushing against your sleeve, “Please, listen to me.”

You whirled on him, eyes blazing. 

“Stop? Stop?” The word left your lips in a hiss. “What could you possibly have to say to me that you haven’t already made abundantly clear, James?”

Bucky’s hand fell to his side, at the way you spat his name. You’d never used it like that before—like a weapon, sharp and cutting. He drew in a shaky breath, his gaze flickering over your face as though searching for some way to reach you through the storm of emotions.

“Please, Y/N, just—let me explain. I’ve been… distant, I know.” he said, his voice softening, pleading. “But I didn’t know how to—how to show you that I… that I care.”

“Care?” You laughed again, short and humorless, “Is that what you call it? Ignoring me for days, leaving me in silence, only to send a letter and expect me to come running whenever you deem it convenient?”

“I know,” he whispered, stepping closer, his fingers twitching at his side as if resisting the urge to reach for you again. “I know I don’t deserve it, but I need you to be here. I needed to see you.”

You shook your head, struggling to keep your composure. “Then say that, James. Say what you want, what you feel. Stop hiding behind these—these grand gestures and empty words.”

His eyes darkened with a flicker of frustration as you threw his words back at him. He closed the distance between you in two swift strides, the sudden nearness of him making your breath hitch.

“I’m trying to,” he said, his voice low, almost a growl. “I’m trying to show you, Y/N, because I can’t say it in a way that does justice to how I feel. Words… they fall short. I’ve said so many things wrong, pushed you away with every damn word I’ve spoken. So, I’m done talking.”

You stared up at him, your heart pounding wildly in your chest. “Then what are you going to do?”

His hand, hesitant and shaking, reached for yours. Slowly, he turned your palm upward, his thumb brushing the sensitive skin of your wrist, tracing the frantic beat of your pulse.

“Please… stay,” he murmured, his voice breaking on the word, “I need to show you.”

“Then show me.”

The word barely left your lips before Bucky stepped past you, his hand trailing away from yours, and headed toward the hallway. For a moment, you hesitated, rooted in place as you watched him stride away, his posture tense, yet determined. And then, as if caught in some magnetic pull, your feet carried you after him, heart pounding furiously in your chest.

The walk was silent, the click of your heels against the polished floor echoing softly. Bucky’s pace was quick, his shoulders set, each step purposeful. You followed in his wake, your mind racing with questions, frustration, and the unrelenting hope that he might finally give you the answers you sought.

He led you through the winding corridors of Annecy Estate, past servants who discreetly looked away, past grand rooms shrouded in shadows, until you reached a pair of large, double doors. The heavy wood gleamed in the dim light, their surface intricately carved with the Barnes family crest.

Bucky pushed the doors open, not looking back as he stepped inside. You faltered, the sight of his private chambers—a place you’d never set foot in—sending a shiver of uncertainty through you. But you took a deep breath and followed, crossing the threshold into his space.

The door clicked shut behind you, sealing you both in a cocoon of silence. The room was spacious, yet felt intimate. A large bed dominated one side, its dark, plush coverings pristine and untouched. Shelves lined the walls, filled with books, trinkets, and objects that seemed to whisper secrets of who Bucky was—who he had been before all this.

The air itself seemed heavy, saturated with his presence, his scent—a mix of cedarwood, leather, and something uniquely him—wrapping around you. It was overwhelming, intoxicating, and made it hard to think clearly.

Bucky stood a few steps away, his back still to you as he exhaled slowly. Then, without a word, he shrugged off his jacket, letting it slide from his shoulders to land carelessly on the bed.

You stiffened, your eyes widening as he reached up, his fingers deftly undoing the cufflinks at his wrists. The small, metallic clinks of the cufflinks being set aside reverberated in the quiet room. A sense of disbelief warred with your anger and confusion as he moved with ease—removing the barriers of clothing one by one.

“What are you doing?” you whispered, your voice wavering despite your best effort to sound unbothered.

Bucky didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he rolled up his sleeves, revealing strong forearms corded with muscle and veined from tension. But as the fabric fell away, you saw it—his left arm gleaming under the soft light, the sleek, dark metal reflecting the flickering glow of the candles.

A lump formed in your throat as you stared, mesmerized by the sight of his vibranium arm. The intricate lines, the smooth surface… It was both a masterpiece and a reminder of something darker buried deep within Bucky’s past.

He caught the look in your eyes, the way your gaze lingered on his left arm, and his jaw tightened, vulnerability crossing his features.

“What I should have done at the start,” he murmured. With each unbuttoned piece of his attire, your pulse seemed to stutter, your chest tightening with the unfamiliar, heady sensation. He unbuttoned his shirt, the fabric parting to reveal the chiseled lines of his chest and abdomen, the faint scars that traced paths over his skin like echoes of battles fought and endured.

You swallowed hard, your gaze locked on him, helpless to look away. There was something achingly intimate about this—watching him undress not in a way that was seductive or calculated, but almost like he was shedding his armor, piece by piece.

“Bucky,” you began again, the name trembling on your lips. “I—”

He let the shirt fall to the ground, the fabric pooling at his feet. Standing there, bare-chested and exposed, he seemed both vulnerable and unbreakable. Then, he turned fully toward you, his gaze piercing as it held yours.

“Do you remember? I vaguely told you about this arm?” he asked softly, his voice strangely calm, almost detached. “It was not by choice. I was seized, shattered—my mind reconstructed piece by piece—starting with this.” He lifted the vibranium arm, his fingers flexing ever so slightly, the metal catching the dim light. “They mentally dismantled me until all that remained was this… weapon. Something to be wielded, something to be governed by another’s will.”

He paused, his gaze shifting away from you, staring down at the arm as if it were some loathsome thing, some cursed appendage that didn’t belong to him. “The arm became a reminder that I was no longer human—just a tool. Something to be wielded by others.” He exhaled sharply, a shudder running through him. “Even now, with the arm being mine again, I still feel… trapped by it.”

He stood in silence, his breathing slow and measured, his chest rising and falling with each deep inhale. For the first time, you were able to truly take him in—the strength in his body tempered by the vulnerability in his posture, the contrast of metal against flesh, the scars etched like battle lines over his skin. 

But what struck you most was the look on his face—head turned slightly to the side, his eyes downcast, almost as if he couldn’t bear to look at you.

And it was then that you realized.

He was ashamed.

Ashamed of what he’d become. Ashamed of what had been done to him. Ashamed of showing you this, of letting you see him like this—so utterly exposed, not just in body, but in everything he’d tried to hide from you.

The sight of him—stripped of every defense, every guise—stirred something deep within you. This man—the one who had wounded you, driven you away, barricaded himself from you—was now baring himself before you in a manner that spoke of desperation, a yearning to be seen, to be understood.

“Who else. . . knows of this?” You asked carefully.

“A selected amount of trusted people.” 

Though you longed to speak more, to utter something that might soothe the tempest raging in his eyes, words faltered on your tongue, trapped by the gravity of the moment. So instead, you remained silent, allowing yourself to absorb the image of him—each line, each imperfection, each fragment of who he was.

Slowly, tentatively, Bucky lifted his gaze. His eyes met yours, searching, imploring, as if hoping—begging—that you might see beyond the anger, beyond the hurt, and glimpse the man he truly was. The man he was trying to be.

He took a hesitant step forward, then another, until he was standing just a breath away. His hand twitched at his side, you thought he might reach for you. But instead, he did something that stole the breath from your lungs.

Without a word, Bucky sank to his knees before you.

The sight of him—this proud, indomitable man kneeling at your feet, his head bowed low—rendered you momentarily breathless. He appeared utterly defeated, his broad shoulders slumped as though bearing the weight of the world itself. His gaze remained fixed upon the floor, his hair falling forward, shrouding his face in shadow, concealing him from view.

And then he spoke, his voice so low, so raw, that it scarcely rose above a whisper.

“I beg for your forgiveness, my Queen.” he murmured, the words trembling with a pain so profound it caused your chest to tighten. “I apologize for every moment I made you feel as though you were isolated. For distancing myself from you when you were the only thing that kept me whole.”

Your hands tightened at your sides, the urge to reach out, to touch him, to offer solace warring with the resentment that still simmered beneath your skin. Yet you remained still, your gaze unwavering as you listened, waiting.

He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing with the movement, and his head dipped lower, as if the act of speaking these words cost him more than you could fathom.

“I’ve hurt you,” he continued, his voice fracturing. “I have distanced myself, not out of want, but out of fear—fear that you might perceive me for what I truly am—a shattered, ruined man who knows not how to be a husband. Nor a king.”

He lifted his head slightly then, his eyes glistening as they found yours once more. There was a desperation in his gaze, a pleading that cut through every barrier you’d tried to put up.

“I cannot undo the things I have done,” he whispered hoarsely. “I cannot alter what I have become. I desire to be better—for you. For you deserve nothing but the best.”

Your breath hitched, your chest tightening painfully as you stared down at him, the tears that had been burning at the back of your eyes threatening to spill over. This was James, laid bare before you—not the king, not the soldier, but the man who had been so afraid of his own darkness that he’d let it swallow him whole.

And now, here he was, kneeling at your feet, offering up his broken pieces in a desperate plea for forgiveness.

“Please,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a breath. “Please… tell me I haven’t lost you.”

Seeing him like this—so utterly stripped of every layer of pride and pretense—was something you could not bear to witness. Slowly, you stepped closer and you reached down, your fingers brushing gently against his shoulder.

“Rise, James,” you whispered, your voice soft yet firm, a command veiled in gentleness. “Stand.”

He hesitated, the weight of your touch sending a shiver through him. His gaze faltered, lingering on your hand as though it were a treasure beyond his worth. But when he finally looked up, the confusion and uncertainty in his eyes were laid bare, and for a moment, he seemed like a lost, wounded creature—hesitant, unsure of himself.

“Stand up,” you repeated, your tone stronger now, a note of steel beneath the tender veneer. “You are a king. A king kneels for no one.”

His brow furrowed, the wariness in his expression unmistakable as he continued to search your face. Your gaze held him steadily, refusing to let go, refusing to allow him to sink back into the shadows. Cautiously, he rose to his feet. Your hand, still resting lightly upon his arm, guiding him until he stood at his full height. He seemed even taller now, towering above you to the point where the top of your head barely reached his shoulders. 

You stepped closer, the space between you vanishing, your head tilting back as you looked up at him. Even though he loomed over you, his presence larger than life, the vulnerability in his eyes made your chest squeeze.

“Look at me,” you murmured, lifting your free hand to his face. Your movements were unhurried, as though you were giving him the chance to retreat if he so wished. But he remained still, his breath catching as your fingers grazed his cheek, tracing the strong line of his jaw before cupping his face with a touch that was achingly gentle.

“Y/N—” he breathed, his voice scarcely more than a murmur, the broken plea within it tugging at the deepest parts of you.

Your gaze softened, and with a tenderness that startled even yourself, you leaned in, the distance between you shrinking further until your forehead rested against his. His breath mingled with yours, uneven and labored, as if it were a struggle for him to simply remain standing.

Your thumb moved in a slow, careful caress against his skin, brushing away a single tear that had slipped past his defenses. He exhaled a shaky breath, the tension in his shoulders ebbing as you held him close, his presence anchoring you as much as you were anchoring him.

“I see you,” you whispered softly, your voice trembling with the weight of the truth contained within those three simple words. 

His eyes closed for a fleeting moment, as if he were savoring the sweetness of your words, letting them seep into the deepest, most wounded parts of him. When he looked at you again, there was something different in his gaze—a depth of emotion that was almost too raw to bear.

“What is it that you see when you look at me?” he asked quietly.

You inhaled slowly, taking in the breadth of his shoulders, the way his chest rose and fell with each labored breath, the fragility that lingered beneath the surface of his strength.

“I see a man who has faced battles no one should ever endure,” you murmured, your fingers tracing the line of his cheekbone with exquisite care, “a man who carries the weight of a crown and the burden of his past with more grace than he knows. I see the courage that others overlook, the goodness that still remains—hidden beneath the scars and the sorrow. I see the man you are, and the man you wish to become.”

A tremor ran through him, and he bowed his head, his forehead brushing against yours, the closeness of your bodies rendering words unnecessary. You felt the warmth of his breath against your lips, tasted the unspoken promise in the air between you.

“Tell me I am not lost to you,” he whispered, his voice breaking as if he were speaking through a pain too profound to voice. 

Your hand, still cradling his face, tilted his head upward, forcing him to meet your gaze. You held him there, your eyes burning with a fierce intensity that matched the storm within your own heart.

“You are not lost to me,” you vowed, your voice a quiet, resolute promise. “But I do not forgive you. . .yet.”

A breath of relief escaped him, a sound so soft and unsteady that it made your heart clench.

“Yet…” he repeated slowly, as if tasting the word on his tongue, a spark of hope flickering in his eyes. “Yet is good. Yet is hope.”

“Perhaps.”

A single tear slid down his cheek, and you brushed it away, your touch as light as a feather, a quiet acceptance in your gesture that left him breathless.

“I see you,” you whispered again, the words a balm to both your wounds. “All of you. And I am not afraid, I will not look away.”

A shuddering breath escaped him, his shoulders sagging as if a weight had been lifted from his soul. In this moment, there was no king and queen, no titles or formalities—just two people standing in the quiet aftermath of pain and sorrow, holding on to the hope of something more.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice a broken whisper that reverberated through the stillness around you. “Thank you… for seeing me.”

You nodded slowly, the barest of smiles curving your lips as you let your forehead rest against his once more. And in that shared silence, amidst the chaos of emotions and the stillness of the night, you both found a measure of peace—however fleeting it may be.

You could feel it in the way his breath mingled with yours, in the way his hands shook ever so slightly as they hovered, uncertain, at your waist.

“James…” you breathed, his name falling from your lips like a prayer, a plea.

Something snapped within him then, the fragility giving way to an onslaught of need, desire—days of yearning and pain and longing surging forward all at once. His fingers tightened around your waist, pulling you closer, his lips crashing against yours with a fervor that stole the very breath from your lungs.

His lips were searing and desperate, and it had set your entire being aflame. He kissed you as though he were trying to brand his very soul onto yours, as if he were afraid that if he let go, you would vanish into the darkness that had claimed so much of his life.

Your hands tangled in his hair, fingers threading through the dark locks as you held him close, every ounce of your own longing and sorrow pouring into the kiss. His hands moved restlessly over your back, your sides, seeking to memorize the feel of you beneath his touch. His tongue traced the seam of your lips, coaxing you open, deepening the kiss until it felt as if you were drowning in him—lost to the overwhelming heat and passion of his embrace.

You gasped against his mouth, the sound swallowed by his fervent kiss, his lips trailing down to the corner of your mouth, your jaw, the delicate skin of your neck. He pressed open-mouthed kisses there, each one reverent and almost frantic, as if he were both worshipping you and punishing himself for the times he had pushed you away.

“I have longed for you,” he murmured hoarsely, his voice a broken rasp against your skin. “Dreamt of you… even when I tried to bury it, to banish the thought of you from my mind… you were always there. Always.”

“Show me,” you whispered, your own voice trembling with the force of your emotions. 

And with a low, guttural sound, he obeyed, his hands gripping you tighter as he captured your lips once more. This kiss was slower, deeper, a languid exploration that felt like the unraveling of every barrier, every wall you had erected between each other. His mouth moved over yours with a tenderness that belied the intensity of his grip, as if he were pouring every unspoken word, every apology, into the kiss.

Your hands slid down to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm, each pulse a testament to the life that still burned fiercely within him. You felt yourself sinking into him, the world narrowing until there was nothing but the feel of his lips on yours, the warmth of his body pressed against you. He kissed you until your lungs burned, until every thought melted away, leaving only the heady sensation of being entirely, irrevocably consumed by him.

When you finally pulled apart, gasping for air, 

the room was quiet, save for the soft crackle of the hearth in the corner and the faint rustling of fabric. Bucky’s hands had found the lacing of your dress, his fingers pausing there as if he were making some silent vow to himself.

“James…wait.” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the stillness. He remained unmoving, his fingers trembling slightly against your back, his breath fanning warmly against the nape of your neck.

“Do you wish me to stop?” he murmured, his tone strained, a mixture of longing and restraint warring within it.

Your throat tightened at the question, and you shook your head slowly, your heart pounding so loudly you were certain he could hear it. “No, I just. . . This is my first time bedding a man.”

Bucky froze, his hands stilling where they rested against your bare skin. His gaze, sharp and searching, locked onto yours.

“We don’t have to do this,” he murmured, voice soft yet firm, his breath mingling with yours as he leaned close. “Not if you don’t want to.”

You swallowed, the weight of his words hanging in the air between you. He had every right to you, every reason to expect this, and yet there was no demand in his eyes.

“But we must,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly, a strange mix of conviction and uncertainty. “It’s our duty to consummate—”

“Fuck duty,” Bucky interrupted, his tone gentle yet edged with steel. He lifted your chin, holding you there, making sure you saw the truth in his eyes. “I don’t care about duty, or obligation, or what anyone else expects of us. The only thing I care about is you.”

You blinked up at him, caught off guard by the raw intensity of his gaze.

“Tell me what you want,” he continued softly, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw. “Tell me if this is something you desire, if this is what you need. Because if it’s not—” His thumb brushed over your lower lip, his expression unyielding, determined. “Then we’ll stop right here.”

No one had ever given you this power, this choice. Not when so much rested on this union—on you fulfilling your role as his wife. And yet here he was, offering it all to you as if he didn’t care about anything but your comfort.

“James,” you whispered, your voice breaking on the word. You shook your head slowly, blinking away the sudden prick of tears. “I do desire this.”

His shoulders relaxed, the tension melting away as a soft, relieved smile curved his lips. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours, his breath warm and soothing on your skin.

“Then it’s only us,” he murmured, his voice a promise, a vow. “Tonight, it’s not for duty, not for the crown—just for us.”

You nodded, your hands sliding up to cup his face, feeling the roughness of his stubble beneath your palms. His lips brushed yours in the lightest of kisses, a tender affirmation of everything unspoken between you.

“Turn around,” he said softly.

Your heart raced as you complied, turning your back to him. His fingers, tentative at first, began to pull at the ribbons holding your gown together. Each tug loosened the fabric, releasing the tension along your spine. His knuckles brushed your skin as he worked, the contact igniting a fire beneath your flesh.

With each ribbon that came undone, the dress loosened further, slipping lower until it barely clung to your shoulders. You watched his reflection in the mirror—the way his eyes were fixed on you, his expression intense, almost reverent.

His hands hesitated at the last knot, his gaze lifting to meet yours in the mirror. The question in his eyes was clear: Are you sure? You gave a slight nod, your breath catching in anticipation.

Slowly, his hands moved upward, tracing the path of your spine until they reached your shoulders. With a gentle, deliberate motion, he slid the gown off your shoulders, the fabric gliding down your body until it pooled at your feet, leaving you exposed before him.

A shuddering breath escaped him. “You are… breathtaking,” he murmured, his voice hushed, as if speaking any louder would shatter the fragile intimacy of the moment.

His fingers lingered at the small of your back, his touch light but firm as though grounding himself. The heat of his gaze roamed over you, burning in its intensity. He dipped his head lower, brushing his lips over your bare shoulder, sending a ripple of sensation through you.

“Turn around,” he whispered, his tone filled with both command and entreaty.

You turned to face him, pulse racing. The look on his face—so raw, so utterly captivated—made your breath catch. He reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he hovered just above your skin. When he finally touched you, his palm resting gently against your waist, you could feel the restraint coiled within him, the careful control he was exercising.

“James, I…” You struggled to find the right words, but before you could speak, he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, then your cheek, and finally, to the corner of your lips.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured, his breath mingling with yours. “But if this becomes too much, if you want me to stop, just tell me, and I will.”

“Don’t stop,” you breathed, the words escaping you unbidden, honest.

His hands tightened on your waist, and with a careful, reverent touch, he lifted you slightly and guided you back to the bed. The thin chemise you wore shifted as he moved you, baring more of your skin, his eyes following every inch of exposed flesh.

His hands moved over you with a kind of restrained urgency, his touch both firm and achingly gentle. He leaned down, his mouth ghosting over the delicate skin at the base of your neck, his fingers tracing the path of your collarbone, your shoulder, your waist.

“Are you sure?” he whispered, his voice strained, roughened with need.

You nodded, your fingers tangling in his hair, tugging him closer. “I’m sure, James. Just… be with me.”

His mouth claimed yours in a kiss that was slow and deep, a deliberate exploration that left you breathless. The world seemed to narrow to just the two of you—the taste of his lips, the warmth of his body pressing against yours, the steady, unrelenting need building between you.

He eased you back onto the bed, his weight a comforting presence above you. With a tenderness that made your chest ache, he began to kiss his way down your neck, your shoulder, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a low, resonant hum that sent shivers through you.

“It’s not,” you whispered, your voice a breathless sigh as your hands roamed over his back, the hard planes of his chest. “You’re perfect.”

He smiled against your skin, his breath hot and unsteady. “No, my queen. You’re the perfect one.”

He captured your mouth in another kiss, deeper this time, his hands cradling your face with a gentleness that felt like worship. And as he moved against you, every touch, every kiss a testament to how much he cared, you felt yourself falling, losing yourself in the man who was giving you everything—his heart, his soul, his very breath.

There’s something so surreal about what’s happening that your mind can’t fully process it. It feels like you’re watching a play—like it can’t possibly be you in this situation.

You’re lying on your side, facing him. His hands are on your skin—slightly rough, callused. Warm against your chilled flesh. Strong, though he’s not using that strength right now. He could subdue you with ease, but there’s no need. 

He kisses you again, his lips lingering as his hands move over your arm, your back, your neck, your outer thigh. His touch is gentle, yet firm, each caress feeling like a exploration. It’s almost as if he’s giving you a massage, except you can feel the sexual intent behind his actions.

He dips his head lower, his mouth finding the sensitive spot where your neck and shoulder meet. His teeth graze your skin lightly, and a shiver runs through you at the pleasurable sensation. Your eyes flutter shut, overwhelmed by the unexpected tenderness. It’s disarming, this gentleness of his, but at the same time, you feel… cherished.

One of his hands slides down, resting on your backside, kneading the soft flesh with a touch that’s both possessive and comforting. His other hand travels upward, skimming over your belly, tracing the curve of your rib cage. When he finally reaches your breast, he cups you in his palm, squeezing lightly—just enough to make you catch your breath. Your nipples are already hard, and his touch feels good, almost soothing.

Each movement, each touch, feels like a silent vow—a promise to show you everything he’s capable of giving, as if he’s trying to communicate with you through every caress. And you let yourself get lost in it, in the heady sensation of being completely, utterly his.

You keep your eyes shut as he gently rolls you onto your back. He’s partially on top of you, but most of his weight rests on the bed. He doesn’t want to crush you, you realize, and a sense of gratitude washes over you. He lowers his head, placing tender kisses along your collarbone, your shoulder, your stomach. His mouth is hot, and each kiss leaves a moist trail on your skin, setting it aflame.

Then he closes his lips around your right nipple and sucks lightly. Your body arches instinctively, a wave of tension pooling low in your belly. He repeats the action on your other nipple, his mouth warm and demanding, and the tension inside you deepens, intensifies. He senses it—of course, he does—because his hand moves lower, venturing between your thighs and feeling the slick evidence of your desire.

His fingers explore gently, and you can’t help but let out a soft gasp as your body responds to his touch, the pressure building, tightening. Every sensation blurs into the next, leaving you helpless under his slow, deliberate ministrations.

“Does it feel good, my queen?” he murmurs, stroking your folds with maddening precision.

A whimper escapes your lips as his mouth travels lower, the tickle of his hair brushing against your heated skin. You know what he intends, and your mind blanks out when he reaches his destination. For a moment, instinct makes you try to resist, but he effortlessly pulls your legs apart, spreading you open to him.

His fingers part your folds gently, exposing you completely to his gaze. Then he lowers his head and kisses you there, sending a jolt of electric heat through your entire body. His skilled mouth licks and nibbles around your sensitive clit until you’re moaning, your fingers clutching at the sheets. Then he closes his lips around it and lightly sucks.

The pleasure is so intense, so unexpected, that your eyes fly open in shock. You don’t understand what’s happening to you, and it’s terrifying. You’re burning from the inside out, throbbing between your legs. Your heart is racing so fast you can barely catch your breath, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you find yourself panting, gasping for air.

“B…Bucky, am I supposed to feel this way?” you ask, your voice trembling with a mix of innocence and confusion.

His only response is a deep, throaty groan against you, the sound vibrating through your core and making your breath hitch. The gentle puffs of his breath against your slick skin make you shiver, and when you instinctively try to pull away—overwhelmed by the intensity of his mouth—he tightens his grip, holding you steady. His hands are strong yet careful, firm but tender, keeping you in place with ease.

“You’re close my queen, I’ll take you there.” he murmurs against your flesh, his voice low and rough, filled with a dark, sensual promise.

He doesn’t relent, his tongue working you with maddening speed, teasing and tasting, drawing out soft whimpers and gasps from your lips. The pleasure builds higher and higher, a wave crashing over you, making you feel like you’re on the verge of shattering. His hands keep you grounded, his touch both possessive and gentle as he guides you through every pulse, every tremor of sensation.

You cry out, your body twisting and arching, but he holds you steady, not letting you escape the overwhelming pleasure that has you unraveling beneath him. It’s too much, too intense, and yet you don’t want it to end—you can’t imagine it ending.

“Let go for me,” he breathes, the words a command and a plea all at once, his mouth never stopping its sinful work. “Just let go, I have you.”

The tension inside you is building, coiling tighter and tighter, until it feels unbearable. You’re squirming against his mouth, pushing and pulling at the same time, your body caught in a desperate dance. Each flick of his tongue, each graze of his teeth, sends you spiraling closer to some elusive, dangerous edge.

And then, with a soft cry, you go over it.

Your entire body tightens, muscles locking as you’re overwhelmed by a wave of pleasure so intense that your vision blurs. Your toes curl, your back arches off the bed, and you feel your inner muscles pulse in rapid, uncontrollable spasms.

You realize, in a dazed, breathless haze, that you’ve just had an orgasm, your first. Your limbs feel like jelly, your skin flushed and trembling as the aftershocks ripple through you. 

He doesn’t move away immediately, his mouth lingering, pressing soft kisses to your sensitive flesh as he murmurs soothing words, guiding you gently back down from the heights of ecstasy.

The first orgasm of your life. And it was at the hands—or rather the mouth—of your husband. Your open your eyes again. But he’s not done with you yet. He crawls up your body and kisses your mouth again. He tastes differently now, salty, with a slightly musky undertone. It’s from you, you realize. You’re tasting yourself on his lips. 

A hot wave of embarrassment rolls through your body even as the hunger inside you intensifies. His kiss is more carnal than before, rougher. His tongue penetrates your mouth in an obvious imitation of the sexual act, and his hips settle heavily between your legs. 

One of his hands is holding the back of your head, while another one is between your thighs, lightly rubbing and stimulating me again. You don’t really resist, although your body tenses as the nervousness returns. You can feel the heat and hardness of his erection pushing against your inner thigh, and you know it’s going to hurt you. 

“J-James,” you whisper, opening your eyes to look at him. “Please take it slow . . . I’ve never done this before—” 

His nostrils flare, and his eyes gleam brighter. “Of course, my queen,” he murmurs softly. His voice is low and soothing, yet it carries a promise—a vow to be careful, to go at your pace.

With trembling hands, he hastily undoes his trousers, pushing them down just enough. When he shifts back slightly, his length springs free, standing thick and proud between you. Your eyes widen as you take him in—long and intimidatingly hard, the sight making your heart race with a mixture of anticipation and fear.

He notices your gaze and the way you bite your lower lip, your apprehension clear as your eyes trace every inch of him. Swallowing hard, you try to reconcile how something that large could possibly fit inside you.

“Tell me to stop, and I will,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. He reaches out, gently brushing your cheek with the back of his fingers, grounding you with the softness of his touch. “You have my word.”

Your gaze flickers back to his, and despite the nervousness thrumming through your veins, you nod slowly. “Don’t stop, I want this.”

Then he shifts his hips slightly, using one hand to guide himself to your entrance. You gasp as the tip of his cock nudges against your slick folds, then slowly, carefully, begins to push inside. You’re wet, but your body tenses, resisting the unfamiliar intrusion. You saw how big he is, but the sensation of him stretching you now feels overwhelming—impossibly large as he inches his way into your body.

Pain flares, a sharp burning that makes you cry out, your hands flying up to press against his shoulders. His eyes, dark and intense, lock onto yours, his pupils blown wide with the effort of holding back. Beads of sweat form along his brow, and you realize he’s straining to keep himself under control.

“Relax, Y/N,” he whispers harshly, his voice taut. “It will hurt less if you relax.”

You’re trembling, body taut like a bowstring, unable to follow his advice because you’re too nervous—too overwhelmed by the pain. It’s too much, having even a little bit of him inside you. You clutch at his shoulders, your fingers digging in his skin as your body fights to accommodate him.

But he’s relentless, his jaw clenched tightly as he continues to press forward, his thick girth stretching you inch by agonizing inch. Your flesh gives way slowly, reluctantly, the resistance in your body fierce, but he doesn’t stop. He won’t stop. Each slow push is a battle, and the pain sharpens, your eyes squeezing shut as you sob quietly, nails scratching at his back.

“Shhh, breathe for me, my queen,” he murmurs, his voice strained. He’s trembling too, every muscle in his body tense as he’s fighting against himself.

He pauses for a second, buried halfway inside, his breath coming in ragged pants. A prominent vein pulses near his temple, his face contorted with effort. He looks like he’s in pain—suffering even—but you know the truth. This is pleasurable for him, this act that’s hurting you so much. The realization makes your chest tighten, but before you can say anything, he lowers his head, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, his voice breaking. And then, before you can process his words, he pushes forward again—firmly, unyieldingly—tearing through the thin membrane inside you with a single thrust.

You almost black out from the pain.

A cry bursts from your lips, the pain flaring white-hot as he stills, his full length now buried deep within you and it’s the most agonizingly invasive thing you’ve ever experienced. He doesn’t move, his hips pressed firmly against yours, his breath coming in harsh, unsteady gasps above you. 

“Breathe,” he murmurs, his voice strained but soothing as he keeps himself perfectly still, letting your body adjust around him. He’s so much larger than you, so much stronger. His forehead rests against yours, his eyes squeezed shut, his entire being focused on not moving an inch.

Your chest rises and falls in ragged breaths, your body trembling beneath him. The pain is sharp, throbbing, but there’s something else now—a sense of fullness, of being completely joined with him. His fingers slide down to entwine with yours, holding your hands as though anchoring you both.

“Just… breathe,” he whispers again, his voice barely more than a ragged breath.

It’s a long, aching moment before the pain begins to ebb, your body slowly, tentatively adjusting to the size of him. You open your eyes, meeting his gaze, and in that instant, you see it all—his struggle, his desire, and his absolute devotion to you.

“James… you can move,” you whisper, your voice shaking.

He lets out a shuddering breath, his eyes closing briefly in relief. “Are you sure?”

You nod, squeezing his hands. “Yes. I… I want you to.”

Slowly, carefully, he withdraws an inch, then pushes back in, the movement sending a jolt of sensation through you. It still hurts, but there’s something else now—something warm and electric, something that has your breath catching in your throat.

Initially, his movements only make it worse, each thrust adding to the agony as your body struggles to accommodate him. The pain is sharp, your muscles instinctively tightening around him, and it’s all you can do to keep from crying out. You grit your teeth, your breath hitching as he fills you completely, stretching you in a way that feels both impossible and overwhelming.

He watches you closely, his eyes never leaving your face as he moves again, each slow thrust careful, controlled. The pain begins to blur at the edges, each movement bringing with it a new kind of pleasure, subtle but building with each careful stroke.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmurs, his voice rough and hushed. “I’ll stop. Just say the word, and I’ll stop.”

But you shake your head, your body slowly relaxing beneath him. “Don’t stop,” you whisper, your voice trembling but resolute. “Please… don’t stop.”

And so he doesn’t, his movements becoming a little deeper, a little steadier as he pulls you both into a rhythm, a dance of slow, aching intimacy that leaves you breathless.

Sensing your discomfort, he pauses, his brow furrowing in concern. His hand slips between your bodies, finding your sensitive clit. He strokes it softly, his finger moving in slow, gentle circles. The sensation is startling, a ripple of unexpected pleasure that momentarily distracts you from the pain. You whimper, your hips shifting reflexively as he keeps his touch light and steady, his thumb brushing over your swollen flesh with expert precision.

“Focus on this,” he murmurs, his voice a rough whisper. “Just this, love.”

You try, your mind grasping onto the pleasure he’s coaxing out of you. It’s small at first, a subtle flicker against the backdrop of pain, but it grows stronger, more insistent as he continues to tease you. His hips resume their slow, steady rhythm, moving your body in tandem with his hand, each thrust pushing you against his fingers.

The tension begins to gather inside you again. The pain is still there, but it’s changing, being slowly overtaken by the pleasure. Your breath hitches, your body responding despite itself, and you feel a flush spread across your skin. It’s almost maddening, how he manages to draw both pain and pleasure from you at the same time, your body caught in the push and pull of conflicting sensations.

“That’s it,” he breathes, his voice strained, as if he’s fighting against something deep within himself. “You’re doing so well, Y/N… so beautiful like this.”

You’re writhing beneath him now, every muscle trembling as he moves with agonizing slowness, his hips rocking against yours. The pressure builds, the friction of his length inside you both painful and electrifying. You let out a soft cry, clutching at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin.

And then something shifts in him. His control falters. He growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating through your chest as his movements change—becoming less measured, less restrained. 

“Yes—Oh, my God—James,” Your hands travel down until they settled on his bottom, urging him to plunge into you harder. His thrusts deepen, the careful rhythm faltering as he pulls back only to push back in harder, the motion sending a jolt of pleasurable sensation through you.

“Fuck,” he grits out, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he fights for control. “You’re so tight, my queen, it feels so good.” His voice is rough, the words almost guttural, and you can feel the tension radiating off him, the way his hands tighten on your hips as if he’s trying to hold himself back.

But he can’t.

With a shuddering breath, he shifts again, his hand stilling between your legs as both of his arms come up to cradle your body. He draws back, just enough to look at you, his gaze fierce and dark, filled with a hunger that takes your breath away.

“I can’t… I’m sorry, I can’t—” His voice breaks, and then he’s moving again, harder this time, his control slipping completely. 

“It feels good, James—keep going.” You reassured him, through a needy whimper.

His hips snap forward, his pace increasing as he pushes into you with a force that has you crying out. Each thrust is deeper, harder, driving the air from your lungs, and the pain flares, bright and searing. But underneath it, the pleasure grows—an insistent, throbbing heat that coils low in your belly.

Bucky’s losing himself, the careful restraint he’d shown before unraveling with every push and pull of his body. You can feel it in the way he holds you, the way his breath comes in harsh, uneven gasps against your skin.

“James…!” you sob, your body arching beneath him as he drives into you. He grunts in response, the sound raw, almost animalistic. His pace is relentless now, his thrusts coming faster, harder, each one dragging a mixture of pain and pleasure from you that has you trembling, gasping.

“Fuck, you’re perfect… you’re taking me so well,” he groans, his voice strained and desperate. His hands move to your thighs, lifting them slightly to angle you just right, and then he’s pounding into you with strength that leaves you breathless, your fingers scrabbling against his back.

“God, you’re so tight, so wet—” His words are a growl, his teeth grazing your neck as he buries himself to the hilt, his body shuddering against yours. “Can’t hold back… can’t—”

He pulls almost all the way out, back hunching, and then slams back in, the impact sending a shockwave through you. You cry out, your nails raking down his back, but he doesn’t stop. He’s completely lost now, his hips snapping forward with a brutal, punishing rhythm that has you writhing beneath him, the world narrowing to the feel of him inside you, the way he’s filling you so completely.

“James, please—” You don’t know what you’re asking for, your mind a blur of sensation as he drives you higher, closer to that precipice.

“Come for me,” he demands, his voice a rough command in your ear. “I need to feel you—need to feel you fall apart around me.”

He reaches between your bodies again, his fingers finding your swollen clit, rubbing it with just enough pressure to push you over the edge. The pleasure crashes into you like a tidal wave, your body seizing, muscles clamping down around him as you scream his name.

Your orgasm tears through you with blinding intensity, your inner walls fluttering, clenching around him as the world dissolves into darkness. You’re only dimly aware of him groaning above you, his hips jerking as he follows you over the edge, his release pulsing deep within you. He holds himself there, buried to the hilt, his body trembling as he spills into you, his voice a raw, broken sound in your ear.

Slowly, the tension eases, the fire burning through your veins gradually fading to a warm, languid glow. He pulls out carefully, his movements gentle, and you wince at the sudden emptiness. But before you can say anything, he’s gathering you into his arms, rolling to the side and pulling you close.

His chest rises and falls against your back, his breath still uneven as he wraps himself around you, holding you tightly.

“Are you okay?” he whispers, his voice rough and full of concern. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, then your cheek, his hands stroking your hair soothingly.

You nod weakly, leaning into his embrace, your body still trembling with the aftershocks of your release. “Yes… I’m okay.”

He lets out a long, shaky breath, his grip tightening for a moment before he relaxes, his body curving protectively around yours.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs again, his voice soft and broken. “I didn’t mean to hurt you… I tried, but I couldn’t—”

“Don’t be sorry,” you interrupt gently, reaching up to brush your fingers over his cheek. He closes his eyes, his forehead resting against yours. He holds you close, his warmth and presence surrounding you.

× × × ×

The soft, predawn light filtered through the heavy drapes, casting a muted glow over the bedchamber. The air was still, the quiet broken only by the faint rustle of sheets and the soft murmur of voices. 

You lay nestled against Bucky’s chest, your fingers idly tracing patterns along the ridges of his muscles, your body relaxed and warmth from the shared intimacy of the night before.

Bucky’s lips curved into a small smile, his gaze tender as he watched you, his hand absently stroking your hair. “Did I mention that you’re even more beautiful in the morning?” he murmured softly, his voice still rough with sleep.

You gave a soft, breathless laugh, shifting closer until your nose brushed against his. “You’re not too bad yourself, Your Majesty.”

The playful response earned you a gentle kiss, his lips brushing against yours with a adoration that made your heart flutter. What started as a brief caress deepened, his hand sliding to the small of your back, holding you close as if the mere thought of distance was unbearable.

The world beyond the room felt like a distant memory—a place that no longer mattered. There was only the two of you, cocooned in the warmth of the bed, the connection between you forged anew in the quiet hours of the night. His presence, once a source of confusion and pain, had become your anchor, steadying you amidst the swirling uncertainty that had defined your marriage until now.

His lips moved against yours, tender and sure, conveying what words never could. You sighed into the kiss, your fingers tangling in his hair as you allowed yourself to get lost in him once more. He responded with a low hum of approval, his hand slipping beneath the sheets to settle against your bare skin—

And then the door to the chamber swung open.

“James, I have told you time and time again that you must learn to prioritize your du—”

“Your Majesty!” a voice interrupted suddenly—Captain Rogers. He stepped into the doorway, eyes wide with alarm as he held out a hand, trying to stop the Queen Dowager from taking another step. “Wait! Please, I—”

But it was too late. Queen Winifred breezed past him with a sharp frown, completely oblivious to his warning. Steve barely had time to avert his gaze, he’d caught a glimpse of you and Bucky in the bed, your figures entangled in a state of undress. The faintest hint of a flush crept up Steve’s neck as he clenched his jaw, his discomfort visible as he hastily stepped back, turning his head away with an almost comical speed.

The shock on her face was unmistakable, her eyes wide as she took in the sight before her—Bucky leaning over you, the two of you tangled together, the sheets barely covering your exposed skin. Your hair was tousled, your eyes still half-lidded with the lingering haze of sleep and intimacy.

“Mother—” Bucky choked out, his own shock quickly replaced by a fierce protectiveness. He moved in a flash, yanking the covers higher, shielding your body from view even as his gaze flickered with annoyance and embarrassment.

Your heart leapt into your throat, your face burning with mortification as you tried to hide behind the blankets, only partially successful. But the Queen Dowager had already turned to her back, her back ramrod straight, her shoulders tense as she stared resolutely at the doorframe. One hand clutched at the delicate fan she carried, the edge of it trembling slightly, the motion so subtle it was almost imperceptible.

“I—good heavens,” she stammered, uncharacteristically flustered. “I… I had no idea—”

Bucky shifted beside you, his voice strained but composed. “Your timing, as always, is impeccable, Mother.”

The sarcasm in his tone was enough to snap the Dowager Queen out of her daze. She cleared her throat, her fingers tightening around the fan as she lifted it to shield her face, the delicate lace trembling as she snapped it open.

“I… I came to speak with you about your lack of action at your own honeymoon, but… clearly, this is not the appropriate time.”

“No,” Bucky agreed, a trace of amusement lacing his words now. “It is not.”

“Right. Well.” The Queen Dowager’s knuckles turned white as she gripped the fan even tighter, holding it as if it could somehow ward off the awkwardness of the situation. “Carry on. I… I shall speak with you later, James.”

And without another word, she turned around sharply, retreating from the room, her face hidden behind the fan as she passed a mortified Steve, who did his best to look anywhere but at his queen or king.

As Winifred left the room, Steve allowed himself one final glance before swiftly stepping aside, his gaze meeting Bucky’s for just the briefest moment. The look of sheer exasperation and embarrassment on Bucky’s face made Steve fight the urge to smirk, though he wisely kept his expression neutral.

Instead, he took a step back, cleared his throat awkwardly, and called out, “I’ll, uh… ensure no one else disturbs Your Majesties.”

“See that you do,” Bucky muttered dryly, shaking his head as he turned his attention back to you.

Steve quickly retreated down the hallway, disappearing around the corner, leaving the two of you alone once more.

You stared at the closed door, your mind struggling to process what had just happened, the lingering haze of sleep and the afterglow of intimacy shattered in an instant. Slowly, you turned to Bucky, who was staring at the door with a bemused expression, his lips twitching with suppressed laughter.

“I suppose that’s one way to inform her we’ve consummated the marriage,” he remarked dryly, his gaze sliding back to you, a wicked glint in his eye.

You gaped at him, incredulous. “You find this amusing?”

He shrugged, the movement causing the sheets to slip down, exposing more of his bare chest. “I find it… effective.”

Despite yourself, a startled laugh bubbled up, the absurdity too much to ignore. You shook your head, your shoulders shaking with silent mirth as the tension dissolved.

“I don’t know whether to be mortified or relieved,” you admitted, pressing a hand to your flushed face. “She’ll never look at me the same way again.”

Bucky’s expression softened, and he reached out to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. “I doubt she’ll ever stop looking at you as the formidable woman who dared to march to Annecy in the middle of the night just to confront me,” he murmured, his gaze filled with warmth and something deeper, something that made your heart ache in the most wonderful way. “But now… she’ll see you as something more. As someone who has claimed what is rightfully hers.”

He leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, the taste of him sweet and familiar. “And that, my queen, is nothing to be ashamed of.”

You smiled against his lips, your hands sliding up to rest against his chest, savoring the feel of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips.

“No,” you whispered, “it’s not.”

And with that, you pulled him back down to you, the Queen Dowager and the world outside forgotten once more.

× × × ×

The grand marble steps leading up to the main palace seemed to stretch endlessly as you and Bucky ascended side by side. The palace loomed above you, its spires piercing the sky, but there was a comfort in its familiarity, a sense of returning home. Guards and servants bowed low, murmuring, “Your Majesties,” as you both passed. Bucky’s hand rested on the small of your back, steady and sure, his thumb absently brushing over the silk fabric of your gown.

The Great Hall is bustling with activity, the murmur of voices rising and falling like waves crashing against the shore. Citizens from all walks of life fill the space—farmers, merchants, artisans, and healers—each awaiting their turn to approach the king. Bucky sits on the gilded throne, his posture regal, yet his gaze is softer than usual, focused not on the people but on you seated beside him on a smaller chair.

One by one, the citizens present their concerns—requests for land disputes, grievances with local laws, petitions for aid after a particularly harsh winter. Bucky listens attentively, his expression thoughtful, but more often than not, his gaze shifts to you.

“What do you think, my queen?” he asks, his voice steady and genuine.

The first time he did, you hesitated, taken aback by the sudden attention. But Bucky’s eyes were reassuring, filled with the unspoken message that he trusted your judgment. So you spoke, and your advice—though tentative at first—was well-received.

Now, you sit straight-backed, exuding a quiet confidence as you consider each matter carefully before responding.

The citizens have begun to murmur among themselves about your growing role in the king’s court. Whispers of admiration mingle with doubt—some marveling at your wisdom, others wondering if the king’s indulgence will lead to reckless decisions.

The ripple of tension becomes tangible when Lord Carter steps forward, a calculating smile tugging at his lips. He bows low to Bucky, the motion exaggerated, then turns his attention to you, his eyes gleaming with thinly veiled skepticism.

“Your Majesties,” he begins smoothly, his tone dripping with courtesy, “it is a pleasure to see our king back on the throne. And to witness our gracious queen actively participating in the affairs of the realm… It is most intriguing.”

You return his smile with politeness, though you can feel Bucky stiffen beside you. Lord Carter is known for his silver tongue, and his words are never as benign as they seem. “I am merely assisting where I can, Lord Carter,” you reply, keeping your voice even.

“Of course, of course,” he agrees with a dismissive wave of his hand. “And yet, I wonder if Your Majesty’s counsel might not be too… idealistic?” He pauses, letting the word hang in the air. “Take the recent suggestion to provide seeds to the farmers affected by the blight. While generous, such a proposal could strain the treasury and set a precedent for the crown to supply every failed harvest. Perhaps the wiser course would be to consider less costly alternatives.”

Murmurs of agreement and disagreement spread through the hall, eyes shifting between Lord Carter and you, waiting to see how you would respond.

You keep your composure, though you feel the heat of scrutiny pressing down on you. “I appreciate your concern for the treasury, Lord Carter,” you say, your tone calm and measured. “However, a stable food supply is the backbone of our kingdom’s prosperity. If we let the farmers struggle, they will plant less next season, leading to higher prices and unrest among the lower classes. The cost of seeds is an investment in our future, one that will yield far more than it costs us now.”

Lord Carter’s eyes narrow, his smile tightening. “An investment, indeed. But how do we ensure that the investment is not squandered? Some farmers may take advantage of the crown’s generosity, and others may fail despite our aid. What then?”

You do not falter. “We will monitor the situation closely, sending representatives to oversee the distribution and usage of resources. We will also encourage local communities to form cooperative groups, ensuring that each village has a stake in its own success. This way, we not only provide aid but empower our people to be self-sufficient.”

A ripple of approval spreads through the hall. Even those who had been skeptical seem impressed by your thoughtfulness. Bucky’s gaze never wavers from you, pride shining in his eyes as you calmly hold your ground.

Lord Carter, however, is not finished. “And what of the well that dried up in Westport? Your suggestion to dig a new one may seem like a straightforward solution, but have you considered the possibility that the source may have been permanently depleted? If that’s the case, no amount of digging will restore it. Should we not consider relocating the village instead?”

Gasps of shock and disbelief echo through the hall. Relocating an entire village is an extreme measure, one that would displace hundreds of families and disrupt countless lives. Your hands tighten around the armrests of your chair, but you force yourself to remain calm.

“Relocation should always be a last resort,” you reply firmly. “The engineers we send will first conduct a thorough survey to determine if the well’s depletion is a result of temporary shifts or a permanent change in the water table. If it is found to be permanent, then we can discuss the feasibility of relocation. But I will not uproot our people without exhausting every option to preserve their homes.”

For a moment, there is silence. Then, a slow clap echoes through the hall. 

Lord Carter’s smile is sharp, predatory. “Well said, Your Majesty. It seems you have given this more thought than I assumed. I only hope your efforts yield the desired results.”

Bucky’s jaw tightens, and he leans forward slightly, his gaze fixed on Lord Carter. “I trust my queen’s judgment, Lord Carter. She has proven herself more than capable of understanding the intricacies of governance.” His voice is low, but it carries an unmistakable warning.

Lord Carter inclines his head, the smile never leaving his lips. “Of course, Your Majesty. It was never my intention to suggest otherwise. I merely wish to ensure that our realm remains strong and our resources wisely managed.”

With a final bow, Lord Carter steps back, leaving you and Bucky to exchange a glance. There is a question in Bucky’s eyes—Are you all right?

You give a slight nod, your lips curving into a determined smile. Yes, you seem to say without words. I am.

Bucky’s fingers brush against yours once more, a silent vow of support and solidarity. “Then let it be known,” he announces, his voice ringing out across the hall, “that from this day forward, Queen Y/N will sit beside me in all matters of governance. Her voice is to be heard and her counsel considered as equal to mine.”

The hall erupts into applause and murmurs of approval, but the hard gleam in Lord Carter’s eyes does not fade. He bows once more, his smile inscrutable, and turns away.

You watch him go, your heart steady. Whatever games Lord Carter intends to play, you are ready.

And you will not lose.

× × × ×

The grand council chamber now buzzed with tension, the gathered noblemen exchanging wary glances as Bucky faced them from the head of the long table. Prime Minister Fury, Lord Pierce, and the representatives of House Stark, House Romanoff, House Maximoff, House Odinson, House Quill, and House Carter were all present, each of them bearing the weight of their house’s influence and expectations.

It was a subtle standoff, a test of authority cloaked in polite words and thinly veiled demands.

You hadn't meant to overhear—you had only been wandering the halls when you stumbled upon the slightly ajar double doors and the raised voices inside. But something kept you rooted in place, your pulse quickening as you realized who was speaking.

Prime Minister Fury broke the silence first, his gaze sharp and unrelenting as it settled on Bucky. “Your Majesty, forgive our persistence, but it’s been weeks since your marriage, and… the court is rife with speculation.”

You leaned closer, eyes narrowing as you strained to hear. You couldn’t see Bucky’s face from where you stood, but the tautness in his voice was unmistakable.

“Speculation?” His voice was low, a dangerous undercurrent running through it. “What sort of speculation?”

A murmur rippled through the room, and Lord Haynesworth, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, cleared his throat awkwardly before speaking. “There have been… questions, Your Majesty. Questions regarding… well… whether the marriage has been properly consummated.”

Your heart lurched at the word, heat rushing to your cheeks in a mix of embarrassment and anger. Was that what this was about? They were discussing your private life as if it were some kind of public spectacle, something to be scrutinized and judged.

“Do not make us ask the question outright, Your Majesty,” Prime Minister Fury said finally, his tone edged with steel. “But we must know. The stability of the Crown depends on it. If the marriage has not been consummated, the legitimacy of the union—and of any future heirs—could be called into question.”

Silence fell, thick and heavy. You could practically feel Bucky’s gaze sweeping over each lord, daring them to press further.

“This is not your concern,” he bit out finally, each word clipped and seething with frustration. “This is my marriage. My business.”

“Your marriage is our concern,” Fury countered, leaning forward slightly, his gaze unflinching. “It’s palace business, Parliament business, the business of the entire country! You cannot pretend otherwise.”

“The king’s marriage must be above reproach,” Lord Pierce interjected, his voice low but firm. “Without a legitimate heir, the crown’s stability—”

“Do not speak to me of stability!” Bucky snapped, his voice like a whip crack through the chamber. You jumped at the sound, your breath catching in your throat as the tension in the room thickened. “You told me I had to marry her for the sake of the Crown. I did.”

Silence fell, thick and heavy.

“You told me I had to charm her, to win her favor, to make her compliant to the needs of the Crown. I did that too,” he continued, his voice dropping to a low, menacing growl.

“Then you told me to keep her at arm’s length, to keep her from knowing me, because a king must always protect the secrets of his realm.” He let out a bitter, humorless laugh. “I have followed every command, every directive, without fail. And now, you dare to demand this?”

The room seemed to shrink under the intensity of his gaze, the noblemen exchanging uncertain glances but remaining silent.

“You want to know if I’ve bedded her?” Bucky’s voice was soft now, deadly. “Yes. I have. Does that satisfy you?”

Prime Minister Fury held his ground, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed his discomfort. “We must be sure, Your Majesty. The matter is not only about what is done but also about what is seen to be done. You must—”

“I must?” Bucky’s voice rose, the sound reverberating through the chamber like thunder. “I have done everything you’ve demanded of me! From the moment I took my first breath, it was hammered into me that my life was for the happiness or the misery of this great nation. That I must act, speak, feel in accordance with the needs of the Crown!”

His breathing quickened, his fists clenching at his sides as he struggled to contain the rage boiling within him.

“I am the image of duty,” he yelled, voice shaking with barely contained fury. “The Crown is embedded in me, lodged like a blade through my heart. You do not need to remind me of what is at stake.”

Lord Haynesworth shifted uneasily, his gaze flickering to the others before speaking cautiously. “Your Majesty, we are not questioning your dedication. But if the queen is not—”

“Do not speak of her.” Bucky’s tone was a low, dangerous growl. “She is my wife. Her worth is not for you to decide.”

A murmur of surprise swept through the chamber, the lords exchanging startled looks at the vehemence in his voice. They hadn’t said a word against the queen, yet Bucky’s defense of you was fierce, unwavering. As if the mere thought of anyone questioning you sent a surge of anger through him.

“Your Majesty, we only ask—”

“I have done my part,” Bucky interrupted coldly. “I will continue to do it, no matter the cost. But if any of you dare question her again, you will regret it.”

You stared, wide-eyed, at the scene unfolding before you, your heart beating loudly in your chest. 

“Your Majesty, we’re merely trying to ensure the Crown’s safety. If the queen does not—”

“Enough!” Bucky roared, the sound echoing through the chamber, making the noblemen flinch. “I have bedded her. I have fulfilled my duty. That is all you need to know.”

He turned on his heel, his cloak swirling behind him as he stalked toward the doors. Just before he reached them, he paused, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper.

“This meeting is dismissed.”

You stepped back quickly, heart racing as he stormed out, his expression thunderous. As the heavy doors closed behind him, you glanced back through the narrow gap, your heart still pounding.

A murmur of voices rose, low and uncertain.

“He has finally done it, then,” Lord Haynesworth muttered, a hint of relief in his tone.

“Good,” Lord Pierce nodded, his fingers tapping thoughtfully against the table. “Then there’s still hope that we can secure an heir.”

“We need to tread carefully,” Prime Minister Fury agreed. “But with the consummation complete, it’s a step forward. We must focus now on ensuring that an heir is conceived swiftly.”

A ripple of murmured agreement passed through the room, the tension easing just slightly as the weight of this particular matter began to lift.

Lord Carter, who had been silent until now, cleared his throat softly, a thoughtful smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Gentlemen, let us not forget… they have only just begun their marriage. We must allow time for nature to take its course.”

The other lords exchanged cautious nods, the relief growing as they considered his words.

“Quite right, Lord Carter,” Lord Pierce agreed. “We have time yet. If they continue in this manner, an heir will follow soon enough.”

Prime Minister Fury’s gaze lingered on the closed doors, his expression inscrutable. “But if this proves to be the only victory… if no heir is conceived…”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Lord Carter interrupted smoothly, his smile widening ever so slightly. “For now, we should be pleased that the matter has progressed this far. Let us not trouble ourselves unnecessarily.”

As the lords exchanged nods and the tension began to dissipate, Lord Carter’s smile widened ever so slightly. He leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming lightly against the polished wood of the table. It was a small, almost dismissive gesture, as though he were content to let the matter lie.

But not everyone in the chamber seemed convinced.

Lord Stark, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly, watched Lord Carter with a scrutiny that went unnoticed by most of the others. There was something in the smooth way the man spoke, the casual ease with which he guided the conversation, that set Stark’s teeth on edge. He’d seen men like Carter before—men who wielded their influence like a blade hidden beneath velvet.

He glanced to his right, catching Lord Thor Odinson’s gaze. The two exchanged a wordless look—Thor’s brow furrowing ever so slightly, as if he too sensed the undercurrent of manipulation threading through the discussion.

“Lord Carter speaks wisely,” Stark said slowly, his voice carefully measured as he turned his gaze back to the man in question. “We must be patient.”

Lord Carter’s smile widened at the praise, his eyes gleaming with a hint of something unreadable. “Of course,” he murmured, inclining his head slightly. “After all, it is in patience that we find clarity.”

Tony held his gaze for a beat longer, the polite smile never quite reaching his eyes. “Indeed,” he said softly, a hint of irony threading through his tone. Then he leaned back, crossing his arms as if to signal that he was done with the matter.

Thor, still watching Lord Carter closely, let out a low hum, his expression thoughtful. He didn’t say anything—didn’t need to. The wary glance he shared with Stark spoke volumes.

Lord Carter either didn’t notice, or he pretended not to. He gave a gracious nod, the smile still playing at the corners of his lips, and then shifted his gaze to the other lords, effectively dismissing the silent exchange between Stark and Odinson.

But the suspicion lingered.

As the lords continued their murmurings, Lord Stark’s gaze never left Lord Carter’s face, his mind working rapidly. He didn’t know what game Carter was playing, but he knew one thing for certain—whatever it was, it was more than just a matter of marriage and heirs.

There was something else at stake. Something that Lord Carter was keeping hidden beneath that affable smile.

And if there was one thing Stark couldn’t stand, it was a man who played games with stakes he didn’t lay on the table for all to see.

× × × ×

The private study in the main palace was dim, thick curtains drawn to keep out the harsh afternoon sun. The air was heavy, and Bucky’s frustration filled the room like a storm cloud. He stood near the window, staring out at the sprawling gardens, his thoughts a tangled mess of anger.

“Your Majesty?” Sam’s voice broke through the silence, calm but edged with concern. He kept his distance, watching the way Bucky’s shoulders tensed with every breath he took. “Might I suggest taking a seat? You appear… troubled.”

Bucky didn’t move, his gaze still fixed on some distant point beyond the glass. The pressure behind his eyes had been building steadily since that damned meeting ended. A dull ache that was rapidly growing into something sharper, more dangerous.

“Your Majesty?” Sam pressed gently, stepping forward. “If I may, I think it best—”

But before he could finish, Bucky stumbled back, his hand flying to his temple as the pain exploded in his head—white-hot, blinding. He gritted his teeth, a strangled sound escaping him.

“Your Majesty!” Sam was beside him in an instant, his hands hovering just above Bucky’s arms, unsure if touching him would only make it worse. “Shall I summon Doctor Banner? Or Zemo?”

Bucky shook his head sharply, the motion only sending another stab of pain through his skull. His breath came in ragged bursts as he tried to fight it back, trying to push it away.

“No,” he managed through gritted teeth, his voice tight. “I’m… I’m fine.”

But the pain didn’t ease. It only intensified, and Bucky’s knees buckled, forcing him to grab the edge of the desk for support.

“Bucky, please,” Sam urged, his voice low but firm. “You’re getting the symptoms. You need—”

“Get Banner,” Bucky ground out, the words barely more than a rasp. “Now.”

Sam nodded briskly. He moved Bucky to a nearby armchair, easing him down with the care of a man who had done this before. “I’ll bring him right away. Please, just… try to hold on.”

Bucky’s eyes closed, his hand pressing harder against his temple. “Y/N?” he muttered hoarsely, his voice barely audible. “Is she—”

“Her Majesty is well, sir,” Sam assured him gently. “She is perfectly safe.”

Relief washed over Bucky’s face, easing some of the tension from his features. “Do not let her see me like this,” he whispered, his voice rough and strained. “She… she can’t see this.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Sam replied softly. “I’ll see to it.”

With one last, concerned glance, Sam turned and hurried out of the study, his footsteps echoing down the corridor as he went to find Bruce.

Left alone, Bucky slumped back in the chair, his breathing uneven as he tried to regain control. The pain continued to pulse through his head, but he forced himself to focus, to keep his mind anchored to something—anything—other than the agony.

And all he could think of was you.

× × × × 

The candle flames flickered in the study of the Carter estate, shadows dancing along the richly paneled walls. Lord Carter stood before the grand fireplace, his hands clasped behind his back, watching the fire as it crackled and hissed. Sharon paced the length of the room behind him, the soft rustle of her silk gown the only sound breaking the silence.

“Her virtue,” Sharon spat, her voice cutting through the stillness. “Is that truly what they care about? Whether or not she’s pure enough to produce an heir?” She stopped pacing, whirling to face her father. Her blue eyes, so like his, burned with fury. “They should be more concerned with how unfit she is for the role. She’s weak—completely and utterly useless.”

Lord Carter didn’t turn, didn’t even flinch at her outburst. He simply stared into the fire, his expression cold, unreadable. “You will set aside your petty resentments, Sharon.”

She blinked, the unexpected harshness of his tone pulling her up short. “What?”

“You heard me.” His voice was low, but it carried an unmistakable edge, each word falling with the weight of command. “Your emotions are clouding your judgment.”

“My emotions?” Sharon let out a humorless laugh, but there was a note of disbelief in it, tinged with bitterness. “I’m the only one who sees her for what she is—a pretty little figurehead propped up beside him, with no real power. If you would only—”

“Enough.” Lord Carter’s voice was sharp, final, cutting through her words like a blade. He turned then, his gaze locking onto hers with a look that made her take an involuntary step back. “Do you think I don’t know what you’re doing? How you’ve been conducting yourself?”

Sharon’s lips parted, but no sound came. She stared at her father, feeling the heat drain from her face as his gaze bore into hers.

“I see everything, Sharon. Every sideways glance, every whispered word of ‘concern’ for the queen’s image in front of the council.” He took a step toward her, his eyes dark with anger. “You’re so focused on tearing her down that you’ve forgotten the larger picture.”

“The larger picture?” Sharon echoed, her voice rising with indignation. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked! I’ve sown doubt, spread rumors—”

“Yes, and you’ve made a spectacle of yourself in the process,” Lord Carter snapped. “The other lords see your bitterness, your jealousy. They wonder if you’re motivated by politics or by personal vendetta.”

Her breath hitched, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. “I’m not jealous.”

“Then start acting like it.” His tone softened just a fraction, but there was no kindness in it. “If you continue to act out of spite, it won’t be long before they dismiss you as a scorned woman and ignore you entirely.”

Sharon stiffened, the words landing like a slap. “Father—”

“You will listen to me.” He stepped closer, lowering his voice to a dangerous whisper. “You will set aside your personal feelings toward her and start acting strategically. No more open hostility. No more scathing remarks.”

Her throat tightened, a flush of anger rising up within her. “And what am I supposed to do? Smile and play the obedient daughter?”

“No,” Lord Carter said slowly, his gaze piercing. “You will do something much more valuable.”

He turned his back on her and moved closer to the fire, watching the flames as if they held all the answers. “You will make sure she never produces an heir.”

Sharon blinked, confusion creasing her brow. “What? How am I supposed to—”

“Contraceptives,” he interrupted, his voice low and calm. “Subtle, untraceable. Something you’ll slip into her tea—every morning, every evening. She’ll never know.”

Her mouth dropped open again, shock flashing across her face. “You want me to poison her?”

“Not poison,” Lord Carter corrected, his gaze hardening. “Prevent. The council is growing impatient, and so is the king. All this talk of producing an heir has everyone on edge. If she remains barren, if there is no child… it’s only a matter of time before they turn on her. The king will have no choice but to seek a solution elsewhere.”

Sharon stared at her father, a mix of horror and awe flooding her chest. “You’re going to sabotage her chances of ever having a child.”

“Yes,” he said simply, the flames reflecting in his eyes like a promise of destruction. “And when the time comes, the council will demand he take a consort. Someone more capable. Someone who can give him what she cannot. . . and I will have you as a candidate.”

Sharon’s heart pounded, her mind racing as the full scope of his plan unfolded before her. “And if they find out—”

“They won’t,” he said sharply, cutting her off. “The contraceptives will be untraceable, with no lasting effects. And by the time anyone realizes what’s happened, it will be far too late. The damage will already be done.”

Sharon swallowed hard, her throat tight as she forced herself to nod. “And what do I do until then?”

“You remain discreet,” Lord Carter said, turning to face her fully now. “You keep to the background. No more rants, no more public displays of resentment. Let them think you’ve stepped back, that you’ve accepted your place.”

His gaze softened, just a fraction. “The queen trusts the palace servants—use that. When she’s distracted, add the contraceptives to her tea. Once it’s in her system, she’ll be unable to conceive, and the king will have no heir—you need to be consistent. . . otherwise it won’t work. And with every passing day, the council’s discontent will grow.”

Sharon nodded slowly, feeling the last traces of defiance melt away, replaced by cold determination. “I understand,” she whispered. “I’ll do it.”

“Good.” He turned back to the fire, his voice distant and calm. “And remember, Sharon—this isn’t about you. This is about securing our family’s influence and power. Don’t let your emotions ruin it.”

She nodded again, throat tight as she turned on her heel and left the study, his words echoing in her ears like a dark mantra.

Slip the contraception into her tea. Make her unable to produce an heir. And when the queen finally falls, the Carters will be there to take their place at the center of the kingdom’s power.

As she stepped into the dimly lit hallway, Sharon exhaled slowly, smoothing her hands over the front of her gown. She would do what needed to be done.

And when the queen finally fell, Sharon would be there to make sure she never got up again.

× × × × 

The room was filled with the sound of ragged breaths, heavy pants mingling with the low, needy moans that escaped your lips. The air was thick with heat, every whisper of movement, every shift of fabric, adding to the maddening tension that enveloped you both.

You clutched onto Bucky’s shoulders, fingers digging into the firm muscle beneath the thin fabric of his shirt, using it as leverage as you rode him with a rhythm that left you trembling. The dress, though still draped around your frame, felt more like a cage now, the layers of fabric bunched up and tangled around your waist, trapping the heat between your bodies.

Bucky’s hands, strong and possessive, roamed over the curve of your buttocks, slipping beneath the folds of your gown, fingers kneading the soft flesh as he pulled you down against him, urging you to move faster, harder. The friction of his trousers against your bare thighs sent shivers of pleasure coursing through you, and you gasped, your head falling back as you lost yourself in the overwhelming sensation of him filling you so completely.

“God, you feel…” Bucky’s voice was a rough rasp, his words breaking off into a groan as you shifted, the change in angle drawing a deep, guttural sound from his throat. His hands gripped you tighter, almost to the point of pain, but it only heightened the pleasure, the sensation of being utterly consumed by him. “So tight… so perfect… just like that, my queen.”

You moaned in response, the sound echoing in the quiet room, your body moving with a desperate, primal rhythm that matched the erratic beat of your heart. Each roll of your hips, each slide of your body against his, sent waves of pleasure crashing over you, building higher and higher with every pulse of heat, every brush of his skin against yours.

The feel of him inside you, hard and filling, drove you to the edge, your entire being attuned to the way his breath hitched, the way his grip on you tightened each time you moved. You could feel every ridge, every inch of him, stretching you, filling you, making you ache in the best possible way. The sensation of being so utterly full, so completely claimed, was intoxicating, a heady mix of pleasure and pain that had you gasping for breath.

“James…” You whimpered his name, your voice a breathless plea, your nails raking down his chest as you arched against him, desperate for more, for everything he could give you. Your movements grew more erratic, more frenzied, each thrust of your hips meeting his in a clash of heat and desire that left you both trembling.

“That’s it,” he groaned, his voice low and rough, his gaze fixed on you with a possessive intensity that made your heart stutter. “Ride me like you were made for it… you’re taking me so perfectly. So beautiful.”

His words sent a surge of heat through you, your body tightening around him in response, drawing a strangled curse from his lips. He shifted beneath you, his hips bucking upwards to meet your movements, each powerful thrust driving you higher, the pleasure spiraling out of control.

“Please… don’t stop,” you panted, your voice breaking on a moan as he shifted again, his grip on your backside tightening as he pulled you down harder, his gaze never leaving your face. “Don’t… God, James…”

“I won’t,” he growled, his voice a dark promise, his eyes burning with a feral hunger that sent a shiver through you. “I won’t stop… not until I feel you shatter around me. Not until I’ve had you again… and again… until you can’t think of anything but this. But me.”

His words, the low, heated tone of his voice, sent you spiraling, your body tensing as the pleasure built to a dizzying crescendo. You could feel it coiling deep within you, an unstoppable force gathering strength, tightening, ready to snap.

Bucky’s grip shifted, one hand moving to your waist, the other sliding up your back to fist in your hair, pulling you down to capture your lips in a bruising kiss that sent you over the edge, your body convulsing around him as you cried out, the pleasure crashing through you in relentless waves.

He swallowed your cries, his mouth devouring yours as he thrust up into you, each movement drawing out the sensation, prolonging the ecstasy until you were shaking, trembling in his arms.

“James!” You gasped his name, your entire body quaking as the pleasure crested, the intensity of it leaving you breathless, boneless, completely at his mercy.

And still, he didn’t stop. His hands continued to guide your movements, his hips driving up to meet yours in a relentless rhythm that left you gasping, your entire body thrumming with the aftershocks of your release. The feel of him inside you, still hot and hard and so very, very present, sent another shudder through you, and you whimpered, your head falling to his shoulder.

“Such a good girl,” he murmured, his voice rough and unsteady, his breath hot against your ear. “Taking everything I give you… aren’t you?”

“Yes, my king.” you breathed, your voice a broken moan, your body pliant, yielding to his every touch, his every word.

“Then take a little more,” he growled, his hands tightening on your hips, holding you still as he thrust up into you one last time, his body going rigid beneath you as he found his own release, a low, guttural sound tearing from his throat.

You felt him shudder against you, his body trembling as he buried himself deep, the sensation of him pulsing inside you sending another wave of heat coursing through your veins. He thrusted into you over and over until he was spent, having given you every ounce of come he had. And then, slowly, reluctantly, he relaxed, his grip on you loosening as he exhaled a shuddering breath.

The room was quiet once more, save for the sound of your ragged breathing, the rapid thrum of your heart slowly easing as you clung to him, your body still quivering in the aftermath.

He kissed you again, slow and languid, savoring the taste of your mouth like a man starved. His tongue swept against yours, coaxing another soft moan from your lips. The kiss deepened, his hand tangling in your hair as he pulled you closer, like he couldn’t bear to let you go, like he needed to drown in you just a little longer.

But just as his lips found that tender spot at the corner of your mouth—

A sharp knock echoed through the room.

You froze, your breath hitching as the sound cut through the haze of desire that still clung to you both. Bucky stiffened beneath you, his gaze snapping to the door, frustration flashing across his face.

“Not now,” he growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. He turned back to you, his eyes blazing with the need to continue what had been so rudely interrupted. His fingers tightened on your waist, drawing you closer as if to shield you from the intrusion.

“Your Majesty—” came a hesitant voice from the other side of the door.

“Go. Away.” Bucky bit out, his teeth clenched. He pressed a lingering kiss to your lips, his grip on you remained.

But the voice persisted. “It’s urgent.”

With a deep, frustrated sigh, Bucky forced himself to pull away, his lips brushing against your forehead one last time before he moved to stand. He reached for his trousers, yanking them up with an annoyed huff, the fabric whispering as he buttoned them hastily. He tucked his shirt back in, smoothing out the wrinkles with brisk, jerky movements. His fingers worked quickly to adjust the waistband, every action brimming with irritation.

You watched, your pulse still pounding in your ears, as he deftly fastened his belt, the clink of metal ringing sharply in the quiet room. His jaw was set, his brow furrowed in concentration as he straightened his attire, each movement sharp and precise, trying to regain control over himself.

Bucky ran a hand through his tousled hair, pushing the disheveled strands back in place, then tugged at his shirt collar, tucking it in properly with a final flick of his fingers.

The urge to reach out and pull him back to you was overwhelming, but you forced yourself to stay still, your eyes tracing the rigid line of his shoulders as he turned toward the door.

“Come in,” he barked, his tone sharp and impatient.

The door creaked open slowly, revealing Sam, his expression caught somewhere between anxious and apologetic. His eyes darted briefly to you, taking in your flushed cheeks and Bucky’s still-wrathful demeanor before he quickly looked away, clearing his throat.

“Your Majesty,” Sam began, his voice careful, “forgive the intrusion, but… there’s an issue that needs your attention immediately.”

Bucky’s gaze darkened, his jaw clenching as he fought to rein in his irritation. He adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves, smoothing out the fabric one last time. “And it couldn’t wait?”

Sam shifted uncomfortably, swallowing hard. “No, sir. It’s—well, the council is in an uproar. They’re demanding to speak with you. It’s about the queen.”

Your heart squeezed at his words, and you glanced up at Bucky, your fingers tightening instinctively around the edge of your gown. He turned to you, his expression softening ever so slightly as he took a step forward, his fingers brushing gently against yours.

“I’ll handle it,” he said quietly, his eyes never leaving yours. “Stay here, Y/N. I won’t be long.”

You nodded, though the worry gnawing at your chest refused to ease. Bucky’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he turned away, his posture tense, his expression shuttered. He took a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling with the effort to remain composed.

“Let’s go,” he muttered to Sam, his voice low and dangerous. He cast one last glance back at you before striding purposefully toward the door, the soft click of it closing behind him echoing through the room like a finality.

And as the silence settled once more, you exhaled slowly, your mind swirling with unease. Because whatever awaited Bucky out there, you knew it was only the beginning of something far more complicated.

× × × ×

Bucky strode through the double doors, the faint murmur of his boots against the polished marble the only sound breaking the oppressive stillness. All eyes turned to him, a mix of wariness and expectation filling the room.

Prime Minister Fury cleared his throat, stepping forward with a respectful bow. “Your Majesty, we thank you for joining us so swiftly.”

Bucky’s gaze swept over the gathered lords, his expression cold and unyielding. He took his place at the head of the long table, eyes narrowed as he regarded each council member in turn. 

“Why have I been summoned?” His tone was clipped, betraying the simmering irritation beneath his composed exterior.

Lord Haynesworth, always eager to play the voice of reason, leaned forward. “Your Majesty, there have been… troubling whispers circulating the court.” He glanced at the other lords for support before continuing cautiously. “Whispers regarding the queen and Captain Rogers.”

“Whispers?” Bucky’s voice was low, dangerous. He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest as his gaze sharpened. “What kind of whispers?”

A murmur of unease rippled through the room, the lords exchanging wary glances. Finally, Lord Pierce spoke up, his voice carefully measured. “There are rumors that the captain’s… interest in the queen is more than that of a mere guard.”

The words hung in the air, thick and suffocating. Bucky’s eyes darkened, the air around him seeming to crackle with barely restrained fury. “And what proof do you have to support these allegations?” he asked softly, his voice a lethal whisper.

The lords hesitated, each one glancing at the others, clearly caught off guard by the question.

“There is no… direct evidence, Your Majesty,” Prime Minister Fury admitted reluctantly, his gaze faltering. “But the captain’s presence around the queen—”

“Presence?” Bucky cut in sharply, his voice rising. “His presence is at my command. I ordered him to stay by her side. So I ask again—what evidence do you have that my orders have been misconstrued?”

Silence met his words. The lords shifted uneasily, the tension in the room thickening as Bucky’s gaze bore into each of them.

“Nothing?” Bucky’s voice was deceptively soft, his anger simmering beneath the surface. “You summoned me here based on nothing more than baseless gossip?”

“Your Majesty,” Lord Carter ventured cautiously, his voice smooth and conciliatory. “The concern is not just the rumors themselves, but the impact they may have on the queen’s reputation, and by extension, the Crown. If the people begin to believe—”

“Believe what?” Bucky snapped, his voice cracking like a whip through the chamber. “That the queen is a woman of loose morals? That she would dishonor me and this crown with one of my most trusted men? The mere suggestion is an insult not only to her but to me as well.”

The lords exchanged anxious glances, the king’s rage palpable in the air.

“Your Majesty, we meant no disrespect,” Lord Haynesworth said quickly, his tone placating. “But these rumors—”

“Are a disgrace,” Bucky finished coldly, his gaze turning to steel. “And I want to know who started them.”

The council stilled, shock rippling through the room.

“Find the source of these whispers,” Bucky ordered, his voice firm and unyielding. “And when you do, bring them to me. Whoever has dared to spread lies about my wife and Captain Rogers will face the full weight of the Crown’s wrath.”

“Your Majesty,” Prime Minister Fury interjected cautiously, his gaze flickering with unease. “Surely we can handle this matter discreetly. There’s no need to—”

“Do you think I am playing, Prime Minister?” Bucky’s voice dropped to a lethal whisper, his gaze icy. “I want them found. And I want everyone to know what happens when they seek to undermine my authority with petty gossip. I will not tolerate anyone questioning my wife’s honor.”

A tense silence fell over the room, the council members exchanging wary looks.

“Is that understood?” Bucky demanded, his gaze sweeping over the assembled lords.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” they murmured in unison, heads bowing in reluctant acquiescence.

“Good.” Bucky straightened, his expression hard. “And one more thing.”

The lords held their breath, waiting.

“Any man caught speaking against the queen without proof—any man—will find himself stripped of title and position. Do I make myself clear?”

The lords exchanged uneasy glances, their expressions taut with apprehension. But they knew better than to argue.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” they echoed again, the words heavy with resignation.

Bucky’s gaze lingered on them for a moment longer, his expression a mask of cold fury. Then, without another word, he turned on his heel and strode toward the doors, his cloak billowing behind him.

Just as he reached the threshold, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder.

“And if any of you doubt my resolve,” he said softly, his voice like ice, “remember this moment. Because it will be the last time I allow such disrespect to go unpunished.”

The silence that followed Bucky’s last, chilling words was thick, oppressive. It hung in the air like a noose, tightening around the lords as they exchanged uneasy glances, knowing they had overstepped, but uncertain how to make amends.

Just as Bucky turned back toward the door, a slow, mocking clap echoed from the far end of the room, the sound startling in its suddenness. Heads whipped around, eyes widening as they spotted the figure lounging in the shadows.

A man stepped forward, his movements unhurried, his posture casual yet carrying an undeniable authority. His dark hair fell loosely around his face, and a smirk curved his lips—a smirk that spoke of mischief and danger in equal measure. He moved with a feline grace, each step deliberate, as if he were completely unfazed by the tension gripping the room.

“Brother,” he drawled, his voice rich with amusement as his eyes—glinting with an almost feral light—fixed on Bucky. “Now that was a performance worth every second.”

Bucky’s gaze hardened as he turned to face the newcomer fully. “Isaac,” he acknowledged curtly, his voice devoid of warmth. “What are you doing here?”

Prince Ikarus, or Isaac as he likes to be called was Bucky’s younger twin brother—known to the court as a wild card, a force of nature as unpredictable as a storm—tilted his head, his smile widening as he glanced at the assembled lords, his eyes glinting with something dark and dangerous.

“I was just passing through,” he said lazily, his gaze sweeping over the noblemen, who stiffened under his scrutiny. “And I couldn’t help but overhear this… charming little gathering.”

He stopped a few feet away from Bucky, his smile fading slightly as he took in his brother’s tense stance, the barely restrained fury simmering beneath the surface. 

“You looked like you could use a bit of… support,” he added, his voice softening—just a fraction, but enough for Bucky to notice the hint of concern hidden beneath the teasing façade.

The lords shifted uneasily, clearly unsettled by Prince Isaac’s sudden appearance. His reputation as a man who thrived on chaos, who delighted in pushing boundaries, was well known. And now, faced with both brothers—one an unyielding king, the other a dangerous enigma—they found themselves caught between the hammer and the anvil.

“Support?” Bucky repeated, raising an eyebrow. “What kind of support, exactly?”

Isaac’s grin returned, sharp and gleaming as a blade. “Oh, you know, just a little reminder of what happens to those who speak out of turn.” He leaned back slightly, his gaze drifting lazily over the lords before settling back on Bucky. “For instance, I hear the scold’s bridle is quite effective at silencing loose tongues.”

A ripple of shock ran through the room, several lords exchanging horrified glances. The scold’s bridle—a cruel, medieval punishment used to silence women accused of gossiping or speaking out—hadn’t been mentioned in court for centuries. The very suggestion of bringing it back was enough to send a chill down the spines of even the most hardened noblemen.

“Prince Isaac,” Lord Pierce began hesitantly, his voice strained. “Surely you jest—”

“Do I?” Isaac interrupted smoothly, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “Because I’m not entirely sure I do, Lord Pierce. The idea of seeing a few of you donning that particular accessory…” He trailed off, his smile turning almost feral. “Well, it does have a certain appeal.”

“Enough, Isaac,” Bucky said sharply, his gaze never leaving his brother’s. “We are not bringing back barbaric punishments to deal with petty gossip.”

Isaac’s eyes flicked back to Bucky, his smile fading into something more serious, more thoughtful. “Oh, but this is no ordinary gossip, is it?” he murmured softly. “They’re questioning your authority. Your marriage. Your wife’s honor. I would think that calls for a rather… memorable response.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he held his brother’s gaze. For a moment, the room seemed to shrink around them.

Then, slowly, Bucky’s lips curved into a smile—one that didn’t reach his eyes.

“I appreciate your… enthusiasm, brother,” he said quietly, his voice steady but carrying an edge of warning. “But I am perfectly capable of handling this matter.”

Isaac studied him for a long moment, his gaze searching. Then, with a slight shrug, he stepped back, his hands raised in a gesture of mock surrender.

“Of course, Your Majesty,” he said smoothly, the smile never leaving his lips. “I’m merely here to… observe.”

Bucky’s gaze lingered on him for a heartbeat longer before he turned back to the lords, his expression hardening once more.

“Find the source,” he ordered coldly, his voice carrying the weight of an unbreakable command. “And if I hear one more word—one more whisper—about my wife, or Captain Rogers, or anything else that questions my authority…”

He glanced back at Isaac, his gaze turning icy. “I may not bring back the scold’s bridle, but rest assured—there are other ways to silence a tongue.”

The threat hung in the air, chilling and unmistakable. The lords nodded hurriedly, their faces pale, and the chamber fell into a tense, uneasy silence.

Satisfied, Bucky turned and strode out of the room, his cloak billowing behind him. Isaac watched him go, a thoughtful expression on his face.

As the doors closed behind the king, the lords finally released the breaths they hadn’t realized they’d been holding.

Lord Haynesworth swallowed hard, his gaze darting nervously to Isaac. “Your Highness, you… you can’t be serious about the scold’s bridle, can you?”

Isaac’s smile was slow, almost lazy, as he turned his gaze to the trembling lord. “Oh, I never joke about punishment, Lord Haynesworth.”

The lords exchanged wary glances, clearly unsure of how to respond. But Isaac’s gaze had already drifted away, his mind elsewhere, as if the conversation had already ceased to interest him.

“Let us hope,” he murmured softly, almost to himself, “that no one is foolish enough to test the king’s patience further.”

And with that, he turned on his heel and strolled out of the chamber, leaving the lords staring after him, their minds racing with fear and uncertainty.

Because one thing was clear: whether it was Bucky’s iron fist or Isaac’s unpredictable cruelty, those who sought to undermine the Crown would soon learn that the Barnes brothers were not to be trifled with.

As the heavy doors closed behind the Barnes brothers, the lords exchanged uneasy glances, the atmosphere thick with barely restrained tension. The king’s fury had shaken them, but the presence of Prince Isaac—his dark humor and thinly veiled threats—had left them truly unsettled.

Lord Haynesworth was the first to speak, his voice tight with anxiety. “By God, the king truly lost his temper this time.”

“We should have expected as much,” Lord Pierce murmured, shaking his head slowly. “The king has always been fiercely protective of those he cares about.”

Lord Carter leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Yes… but it seems the queen is more valuable to him than we anticipated.”

“Valuable?” Lord Stark interjected, his gaze sharp as he regarded Lord Carter with open suspicion. “The queen is not some pawn to be valued and assessed. She is the king’s wife—and more importantly, she’s been a steady hand in the chaos we’ve created.”

Lord Thor nodded firmly beside Stark, his broad frame leaning forward, fingers drumming thoughtfully against the table. “Stark is right. She is proving herself capable, and that is what matters. And as for Captain Rogers—” he paused, his eyes narrowing as he glanced around the table— “he’s done nothing to warrant these accusations.”

“Of course, Lord Thor,” Lord Carter agreed smoothly, his expression deceptively innocent. “But perception is everything, is it not? The court’s perception, the people’s perception—these things shape the strength of the Crown.”

“Perception is shaped by those who whisper in the shadows, spreading lies and stoking fears,” Lord Romanoff interjected coolly, his gaze locking onto Carter. “I wonder who benefits most from such whispers?”

“Indeed,” Lord Stark added, his voice like a blade. “Who stands to gain from undermining the queen’s position?”

The room fell silent, all eyes on Lord Carter, who merely smiled, a picture of calm amidst the storm. “Gentlemen, I assure you, I have nothing but the stability of the Crown in mind.”

“And yet, you seem quite at ease stirring the pot,” Lord Loki murmured, his voice a low purr as he leaned back, his gaze shrewd. “One might almost suspect you enjoy watching it boil over.”

A ripple of tension passed through the room, but Lord Carter merely shrugged, his smile unwavering. “I am only concerned with ensuring that the Crown is safeguarded against any… potential vulnerabilities.”

“And what vulnerabilities might those be?” Thor demanded, his tone dangerously low. “If you have evidence to support these accusations, speak it now. If not, then perhaps it’s time we stopped entertaining idle speculation.”

Lord Carter’s gaze flicked to Thor, the faintest hint of a challenge in his eyes. “If the king himself is ordering an investigation, who am I to contradict him?”

“You’re a man who clearly wants to see how far he can push his influence,” Lord Stark retorted sharply. “But I’ll tell you this, Carter: I’ll not stand by while you tear down everything we’ve fought to build. And that includes our support of the queen.”

“Is that so?” Lord Pierce murmured, his gaze flicking to the others. “Are we all agreed, then, that we trust the queen’s intentions and see no fault in the captain’s presence?”

There was a murmur of assent from Thor, Loki, Stark, and Romanoff, their loyalty to Bucky and his chosen allies clear.

But the hesitation from the other lords was palpable, their eyes darting nervously to one another before settling back on Carter, whose smile widened ever so slightly.

“Loyalty is admirable,” Carter said softly, his voice smooth as silk. “But loyalty, when misplaced, can be… dangerous.”

A chill swept through the room, the lords shifting uneasily as they digested his words.

“Enough of this,” Fury interjected firmly, his voice cutting through the rising tension like a knife. “The king’s orders are clear. We are to find the source of these rumors and ensure that this matter is put to rest once and for all.”

“Agreed,” Lord Pierce said quietly, his gaze thoughtful. “But let us not forget what Lord Carter said earlier. The king’s loyalty can be a double-edged sword. If we push too hard… we risk losing his favor.”

“Or perhaps,” Loki interjected softly, his gaze lingering on Carter, “we simply risk revealing who truly holds sway over his decisions.”

Carter’s eyes flashed with something dark and dangerous, but his smile remained intact. “You seem rather… invested in this, Lord Loki.”

“Only in seeing justice done,” Loki replied smoothly. “And ensuring that no one with ulterior motives takes advantage of a situation already fraught with tension.”

“Ulterior motives?” Lord Haynesworth echoed uneasily, glancing between Carter and the other lords.

“Yes, ulterior motives,” Lord Stark cut in, his gaze never leaving Carter’s. “The only question is, whose motives are they?”

Carter’s smile finally faded, his eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned forward, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous murmur. “Careful, Stark. You wouldn’t want to find yourself on the wrong side of this conversation.”

“Is that a threat?” Tony asked, a sharp edge to his voice.

Carter’s smile returned, colder this time. “A warning. To all of us. Because if the king is willing to defend the queen so fiercely now, just imagine what he’ll do if he thinks we’re working against her.”

Thor’s fist slammed onto the table, the sound reverberating through the chamber. “Enough! We’re here to protect the Crown, not tear each other apart. This is exactly what those spreading rumors want—discord, infighting. I will not be party to it.”

A murmur of agreement followed his words, the tension easing just slightly as the lords shifted, reassessing.

“We will follow the king’s orders,” Fury said firmly. “But we do so with caution. We need to keep our eyes open—for every possible outcome.”

“And for every possible enemy,” Loki added quietly, his gaze still fixed on Carter.

The room fell silent once more, each man lost in his own thoughts, the weight of unspoken suspicions and half-formed alliances pressing down like a heavy shroud.

And as the lords finally began to file out, exchanging wary glances, one thing was clear: the battle for influence over the king—and the queen—was far from over.

× × × ×

Bucky stood at the head of a private chamber adjacent to the grand council room, the heavy wooden doors sealing him away from the prying eyes of his advisors. The room was lit up by a single chandelier overhead, his gaze was fixed on a map spread out on the table before him, but his mind was far from the ink and paper. He wasn’t brooding—no, brooding suggested indecision, and he couldn’t afford that luxury.

Isaac lounged against the far wall, his usual air of nonchalance nowhere to be seen. He’d been silent for some time now, eyes trained on his brother with a sharpness that few ever glimpsed beneath his playful facade.

“You knew,” Isaac said quietly, breaking the silence. It wasn’t a question, but a statement—a challenge even. “You knew it would come to this.”

Bucky’s lips twitched in the semblance of a bitter smile. “Of course, I did.” He glanced up, meeting Isaac’s gaze with a calm, unflinching stare. “The moment we stood in front of the council with no heir to speak of, I knew there’d be whispers. That’s why I ordered Steve to stay close to Y/N.”

He shifted his weight slightly, fingers tapping rhythmically against the edge of the table as he continued. “I wanted to see who would be the first to take those whispers and turn them into weapons. And I wanted them to feel confident enough to move. That’s the only way to draw them out.”

Isaac’s brow furrowed, his lips curving into a slow smile. “So you’ve been using Captain Rogers as bait?” His voice carried a hint of admiration, laced with a trace of something darker. “You’re more ruthless than I thought, brother.”

Bucky shrugged, his expression hardening. “I needed to know who would dare. And I know they’re out there.”

Isaac raised an eyebrow, intrigue sparking in his eyes. “Who?”

Bucky glanced down at the map, his gaze sweeping over the names marked along the edges. Each one belonged to a noble house, a prominent family in the realm—a member of his council. Men who wielded power not just through their titles, but through their influence, their alliances.

“Whoever they are,” Bucky murmured, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous tone, “they’re part of the council. I’ve seen the way they exchange glances, the careful way they speak around me—like they’re testing the waters, seeing how far they can push.”

He leaned over the table, his fingers brushing over the marked names—each one a potential traitor, a possible conspirator. “But I don’t know who yet. Not for certain.”

Isaac’s grin widened, a hint of excitement glinting in his eyes. “So, what’s your plan?”

“Let them think they’re gaining ground,” Bucky said softly, his gaze darkening. “Let them believe I’m too distracted, too burdened by the pressure of producing an heir to notice their scheming. They’ll grow bolder, make mistakes.”

Isaac tilted his head, studying his brother with newfound respect. “And when they do?”

Bucky’s eyes sharpened, his voice hardening with resolve. “I’ll be there to catch them. All of them.”

Isaac’s smile widened, his eyes gleaming. “So, what’s my role in this little drama?”

Bucky regarded him thoughtfully for a moment before speaking. “You’re going to dig deeper—under the table. Quietly. Find out who’s speaking to whom, what promises are being made, and to whom. Leave no stone unturned, no matter how small.”

Isaac straightened, a gleam of something dangerous sparking in his gaze. “And when I do?”

Bucky’s expression didn’t waver. “We’ll tighten the noose around their necks. But only when I’m ready.”

A silence settled between them, heavy with unspoken understanding. Isaac nodded slowly, pushing off the wall and taking a step toward the door. 

“I like it,” he murmured, a wicked smile playing at the corners of his lips. “But you know I’ll have to get creative. This sort of under-the-table investigation doesn’t lend itself well to… conventional methods.”

“I don’t care how you do it,” Bucky said evenly, his voice carrying a weight that brooked no argument. “Just make sure no one traces it back to us.”

Isaac inclined his head, his smile widening. “Understood, Your Majesty.”

He turned to leave, but paused just as he reached the door, glancing back over his shoulder. “You know… I haven’t met the queen yet,” he said casually, the statement laced with an edge of mischief. “Does she even know I exist?”

Bucky’s gaze hardened, his voice low and firm. “You’ll meet her when the time is right, Isaac. Until then… stay focused.”

Isaac’s eyes glinted with something unreadable, but he merely nodded, pushing the door open and stepping out into the corridor beyond.

As the door closed behind him, Bucky exhaled slowly, his shoulders straightening as he turned back to the map on the table.

But Isaac’s question still hung in the air, and Bucky glanced back at the closed door, his thoughts spinning.

He didn’t know who the traitors were yet. But he could feel them circling like vultures, waiting for him to falter, to stumble. They were careful—too careful. And that caution was telling. Only men who feared exposure behaved so cautiously.

Bucky’s fingers tapped against the table, his gaze narrowing. “It’s not just one,” he muttered to himself, his voice low, a dark edge lacing each word. “It’s a group.”

He let out a slow breath, his gaze sweeping over the council’s names once more.

“They’re part of the council,” he murmured, a humorless smile curving his lips. “Hidden among the men I’m supposed to trust.”

But trust was a luxury he couldn’t afford. Not now. Not until he knew exactly who was behind the shadows cast over his reign.

Straightening, Bucky turned away from the map, his expression hardening once more. “Let them think they’re winning,” he murmured softly, his gaze distant and calculating. “Because when the hammer falls… it’ll fall hard.”

He glanced back at the door one last time, his expression resolute. He would not be a weak king. He would not be a pawn in his own court.

He was the King of this realm. And he would crush anyone who dared to forget it.

× × × × 

Next day.

The late afternoon sunlight streams through the tall windows of the palace drawing room, casting a soft, warm glow over the intricately decorated space. You sit near the hearth, your attention shifting between Wanda, who speaks animatedly, and Nat, who lounges back in her chair, a faint smile playing on her lips as she listens.

Pepper moves gracefully around the room, setting out a fresh tray of delicate pastries and refilling teacups. Laughter bubbles softly as Wanda recounts a recent diplomatic visit.

“—and you should have seen his face when I suggested the princess of Cerion join us for the ball,” Wanda says with a sly grin. “He looked as though I’d asked him to dance with a bear!”

Nat chuckles, shaking her head. “The princess or the bear would be equally entertaining. Can’t say I’d blame him either way.”

You feel a smile tug at your lips, warmth flooding your gaze as you glance at Pepper, who rolls her eyes with an affectionate sigh. “Really, Wanda. You shouldn’t be toying with poor Lord Bateman like that. You’ll give him a heart attack.”

“Serves him right for underestimating us,” Wanda replies with a mock huff. “Maybe next time he’ll think twice before making such… colorful remarks about the queen.”

Your smile falters for just a fraction of a second, but Nat notices. She leans forward, resting a hand gently on your arm. “He’s just a pompous idiot. His words mean nothing.”

You nod, grateful for her support, but before you can respond, the grand double doors to the drawing room swing open, and Sharon Carter steps inside.

Conversation stills instantly, the soft laughter fading as all eyes turn toward her. She stands framed in the doorway, her expression carefully composed but tinged with an emotion you can’t quite place. She hesitates just long enough to be noticeable before taking a deep breath and stepping forward, closing the door softly behind her.

“Your Majesty,” Sharon greets quietly, a hint of uncertainty in her tone. She glances at the other women, nodding respectfully. “Wanda, Natasha… Lady Potts.”

“Sharon,” Wanda replies, a brow arching ever so slightly as she leans back in her chair. “What brings you here?” Her voice is light, but there’s an unmistakable edge beneath the politeness.

You straighten slightly, exchanging a glance with Nat, who gives a subtle nod, as if to say Let’s hear what she has to say. With a cautious smile, you gesture to one of the empty chairs. “You’re welcome to join us, Sharon. Is something on your mind?”

Sharon swallows, her fingers twisting together in a gesture that almost looks like nervousness. She steps further into the room but keeps her distance, her gaze focused on you.

“I wanted to speak with you, Your Majesty. To apologize,” Sharon says, her voice steady but quiet. “For the way I’ve behaved in the past.”

Wanda and Nat exchange quick, skeptical glances, while Pepper’s hand pauses over the teapot, her gaze flicking to Sharon with measured curiosity.

“Apologize?” Pepper echoes softly, setting the teapot down with a gentle clink. “That’s… unexpected.”

Sharon nods, taking another step closer, though still keeping a respectful distance. “Yes. I know my actions and words have been… less than kind.” She pauses, eyes dropping to the floor as if gathering her thoughts. “I’ve let my emotions get the better of me, and I’ve judged you unfairly, Your Majesty. I’ve spoken out of turn, assumed the worst, and for that… I am truly sorry.”

You blink, surprise flickering across your face. You’ve heard countless apologies in your time at court—some genuine, others dripping with false sincerity. But there’s something in Sharon’s tone, in the way her voice almost trembles, that gives you pause.

“People say things they don’t mean when they’re hurt or frustrated,” you reply carefully, your voice measured. “But what brought this on, Sharon? Why now?”

Sharon swallows again, glancing up with eyes that seem brighter than usual. “I… I’ve had time to reflect on my actions. To see the impact my words have had—not just on you, but on everyone in the court. I let my emotions guide me because… because I was angry and felt overlooked. I thought I had a right to be resentful, but…” She shakes her head, gaze dropping again. “I see now that I was wrong. I was unfair.”

Wanda’s eyes narrow, her fingers drumming lightly on the arm of her chair. “And you expect us to believe this sudden change of heart?”

“No,” Sharon says quickly, looking up again, her expression earnest. “I don’t expect you to believe me—not right away. But I want to try to make amends, to show that I’m sincere.”

You exchange a glance with Nat, then Pepper, who gives a slight, almost imperceptible nod. Your gaze softens as you turn back to Sharon. “What is it that you’re asking for, then?”

Sharon hesitates, then takes a step forward, dropping into a graceful curtsy. “I’m asking for the chance to help. To be of service in whatever way I can. I know I’ve been… difficult to work with, but I want to change that. I want to prove that I can be an asset to you, Your Majesty.”

Nat scoffs softly, crossing her arms over her chest. “And how exactly do you plan to do that, Sharon?”

Sharon glances at her, then back at you. “I’ve been at the palace more often, observing how things work, learning the routines. I thought… I could help with some of the smaller tasks. Things that don’t require much trust—yet.”

“Tasks like?” Pepper prods gently, her gaze never leaving Sharon’s face.

Sharon bites her lip, looking almost sheepish. “Like assisting with the morning tea service, helping with correspondence, perhaps just until Lady Rambeau gets back from her leave?”

Pepper’s brow furrows slightly, surprise flickering in her eyes. “You want to help… with tea?”

Sharon nods earnestly. “Yes, anything that would let me be useful, even in a small way. I just want to prove that I can change. That I can be someone worthy of serving you, Your Majesty.”

The silence that follows is heavy, tense. You can feel the weight of everyone’s gaze on you, waiting to see how you’ll respond. You study Sharon’s face, searching for any hint of deception, any trace of the bitterness that had so often colored your interactions.

But Sharon’s gaze is steady, her expression open and… vulnerable.

Finally, you let out a soft sigh, a small, tentative smile tugging at your lips. “Very well, Sharon. I’ll give you the chance to prove yourself.”

Wanda and Nat both shoot you incredulous looks, but you hold up a hand, silencing them. “Everyone deserves a chance to change. And if Sharon is sincere, then I’m willing to see where this goes.”

Sharon’s shoulders sag with visible relief, and she nods gratefully. “Thank you, Your Majesty. I won’t let you down.”

“Start by joining us for tea,” you suggest, gesturing to the table. “We can discuss more about how you’d like to help.”

Sharon hesitates, glancing around at the women, then nods and moves forward. Wanda and Nat’s eyes follow her every move, but Pepper, ever the gracious hostess, hands her a cup of tea with a small smile.

“Thank you,” Sharon murmurs, her fingers trembling slightly as she accepts the cup. She looks up at you, a tentative smile on her lips. “This means a lot to me.”

“I hope you’ll make the most of it,” you reply softly, though there’s a note of caution in your voice. “We all want what’s best for the kingdom.”

Sharon nods fervently, lowering her gaze as she sips from the cup, the picture of humility and contrition.

And as the conversation resumes around her, she glances down at the tray of tea—her eyes lingering on your cup—before quickly looking away, a satisfied smile ghosting across her lips.

The first step has been taken. And you will never see what’s coming.

× × × ×

You take a deep breath, trying to shake off the tension lingering from Sharon’s unexpected visit. Her apology had sounded genuine—almost too genuine—and now it’s left you more conflicted than ever.

As you turn to head toward your chambers, soft but purposeful footsteps echo behind you.

“Queen Y/N,” Natasha calls quietly.

You glance over your shoulder, watching as she approaches with that guarded expression she often wears when something’s weighing on her mind. Before you can even ask, she gently places a hand on your arm and steers you toward a small alcove, away from the passing servants and prying eyes.

“Nat?” you murmur, a hint of concern threading through your voice. “What’s wrong?”

Instead of answering right away, Natasha’s gaze sweeps the corridor, ensuring the two of you are truly alone. When she finally meets your eyes again, there’s a seriousness there that makes your heart skip a beat.

“Listen to me,” she begins softly, her voice low and calm, but carrying the weight of an unspoken warning. “About Sharon’s apology today… don’t let it sway you too much.”

The words land like a stone in your chest. You blink at her, trying to push back the confusion—and the small flicker of hurt. “You don’t think she was being sincere?”

Natasha shakes her head slowly, her grip tightening ever so slightly on your arm. “It’s not about sincerity. Sharon may very well believe everything she said. But even sincere apologies can hide other motives.”

A deep sigh escapes you, and you lean back against the wall, letting the cool stone steady you. “Then what am I supposed to do? She’s already offered to help with small tasks. Turning her away now would seem—”

“No, don’t turn her away,” Natasha interrupts, her gaze softening just a fraction. “Let her help, let her do exactly what she’s offered. But don’t give her more than that. Don’t give her information she could use—anything you wouldn’t want to become court gossip or twisted into something else.”

You close your eyes briefly, trying to reconcile what you know about Sharon with what Nat’s saying. “She looked so sincere, Nat. For the first time, it felt like maybe—”

“Like maybe you could have a friend in her?” Natasha finishes gently, her tone understanding. She takes a step closer, her voice dropping even lower. “I understand, my queen. You want to believe the best in people. You want to give them chances. That’s what makes you… you. But you have to be careful. Just because someone’s smile looks real doesn’t mean their intentions are.”

“But what if she’s telling the truth?” you ask softly, meeting Nat’s steady gaze. “What if she’s genuinely trying to make amends?”

Natasha’s lips curve into a faint, almost sad smile. “Then she’ll prove it, over time. But don’t give her your trust all at once. Make her earn it, piece by piece.”

You swallow, nodding slowly, but the doubt lingers. “Do you think she would really try to… to hurt me? Even now?”

Natasha doesn’t hesitate. “I think people are capable of doing a lot worse than we think when they’re desperate.” She reaches out, lifting your chin gently until your eyes meet hers. “I’m not saying she’s dangerous. I’m saying she’s unpredictable. And that’s enough of a reason to be wary.”

You nod again, this time more firmly. “I understand. I’ll be careful.”

“Good.” Nat’s fingers brush lightly against your arm before she steps back. “And remember—you’re not alone. We’re watching her too. So just… be smart. Guard your words around her.”

A faint smile tugs at your lips despite the heaviness in your chest. “Thank you, Nat.”

She nods, a hint of warmth breaking through her stoic expression. “Anytime. Now, get some rest. You need to be sharp for tomorrow.”

As she turns to leave, you watch her retreating figure, the worry etched in her posture speaking volumes. With a sigh, you lean back against the wall, letting your head fall back as you stare at the ceiling.

You want to believe Sharon. You want to believe in second chances. But Nat’s words echo in your mind like a warning bell.

“People are capable of doing a lot worse when they’re desperate.”

Slowly, you push off the wall and head toward your chambers, Natasha’s parting words circling in your thoughts.

Genuine doesn’t always mean safe.

When you finally reach your door, you hesitate, casting one last look down the empty hallway. Your fingers curl around the handle, and you take a deep breath.

You’ll let Sharon prove herself. But you’ll do it on your terms—step by cautious step.

Because if there’s one thing you’ve learned in the palace, it’s that trust is a fragile thing, easily shattered and dangerous to wield.

And you’re not about to risk everything on someone who may still be hiding a knife behind her back.

× × × × 

It was late—far too late for visitors. But a soft knock at the door drew your attention, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Who is it?” you called gently, setting aside the book you’d been attempting to read, the words blurring together in your tired mind.

“It’s Sharon, Your Majesty,” came the reply from the other side. Her voice was soft, tentative, carrying a note of uncertainty.

You hesitated only for a heartbeat before responding, “Come in.”

The door opened slowly, and Sharon stepped inside, a silver tray balanced perfectly in her hands. The fragrant scent of roses and chamomile filled the air, the delicate aroma wrapping around you like a soothing embrace. She offered you a soft smile as she approached.

“Your Majesty,” she greeted, bowing her head slightly. “I thought you might appreciate something soothing to help you relax before bed. It’s a new blend I had prepared, meant to ease tension.”

Your eyes flicked to the elegant porcelain teapot and matching cups on the tray. A small smile tugged at your lips despite the lingering exhaustion. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Sharon. You didn’t have to go out of your way.”

Sharon’s smile widened just a fraction, her gaze lowering almost shyly. “It’s no trouble at all, Your Majesty. After everything you’ve done for me—giving me a chance to prove myself—I wanted to offer a small gesture of my gratitude.”

You nodded, the sincerity in her voice wrapping around you like the warmth of the fire crackling softly in the hearth. “Thank you, Sharon. But if I’m to enjoy such a thoughtful gesture, I’d like you to join me. It’s late—no reason for either of us to drink alone.”

Sharon blinked, a flash of surprise crossing her face before she schooled her features back into that calm, deferential smile. “Oh, no, Your Majesty, I couldn’t possibly intrude—”

“Please,” you interrupted softly, gesturing to the empty seat across from you. “I insist. I would be more at ease if you joined me.”

She hesitated for a heartbeat, the slightest flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. But then she nodded slowly, lowering herself gracefully into the chair opposite you. “Of course, Your Majesty. If it would make you more comfortable.”

Sharon set the tray down on the small table beside you, lifting the teapot and carefully pouring your tea. The pale golden liquid shimmered in the low light, steam curling up to mingle with the scent of fresh flowers.

You accepted the cup she handed you, holding it delicately between your fingers. “Thank you,” you murmured, inhaling the calming aroma. “It smells wonderful.”

Sharon smiled, her eyes watching you closely. “It’s a special blend—rose petals, chamomile, and a hint of mint. All meant to soothe and relax.”

You glanced at the cup in her hand, then back at your own. “It sounds lovely. Why don’t you pour yourself a cup too?”

The words were casual, almost lighthearted, but the look in your eyes was steady, unwavering. Sharon’s smile tightened just a fraction, and for the briefest moment, her gaze flickered—almost as if she were weighing her options. She poured herself a cup and she nodded, lifting the cup to her lips. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

You watched carefully as she took a sip. Her movements were smooth, no hesitation, no sign of discomfort. When she set the cup down, she smiled, the expression soft and genuine.

“It’s delicious,” she murmured, her tone light. “I’m sure you’ll find it very soothing, Your Majesty.”

Relief washed over you, and you allowed yourself to relax, lifting your own cup to your lips. The first sip was everything Sharon had promised—light, floral, with a subtle sweetness that lingered on your tongue. The warmth spread through you like a gentle wave, easing the tension from your shoulders.

You smiled, setting the cup back down. “It really is lovely. Thank you, Sharon.”

Her eyes brightened, and she nodded eagerly. “I’m so glad you like it, Your Majesty. You seemed so tense earlier—I thought this might help.”

For a few moments, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, the tea’s calming effects wrapping around you like a soft blanket. Each sip seemed to pull you further into a state of ease, your lingering worries melting away.

But then Sharon shifted slightly, her gaze dropping to the cup in her hand. “Your Majesty,” she began softly, lowering her voice. “I wanted to apologize… again. For everything.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. “Sharon, you’ve already—”

“I know,” she interrupted gently, her eyes lifting to meet yours. There was an earnestness in her gaze, “But I want you to know that I mean it. Truly. I was wrong to speak against you, to doubt your strength. You’ve shown more grace and patience than I could ever deserve.”

The words were spoken softly, her voice laced with emotion. And as you looked at her—really looked at her—you couldn’t help but feel a small pang of sympathy.

“Sharon, we all make mistakes,” you murmured, your voice gentle. “What matters is what we do to make amends. And you’ve been making a genuine effort.”

A faint blush colored her cheeks, and she ducked her head, smiling shyly. “Thank you, Your Majesty. That means more to me than you know.”

You nodded, taking another sip of the tea. The warmth continued to spread through you, a sense of lightness settling in your chest. It was comforting. Reassuring. And yet…

Something tugged at the back of your mind, a tiny voice urging you to look closer. But you pushed it away, reminding yourself that trust needed to start somewhere.

“I’m glad we can put the past behind us,” you said softly, your voice carrying a note of finality.

“Yes,” Sharon agreed, her gaze lingering on your face. “And I promise, I’ll continue to prove myself worthy of your trust.”

You offered her a warm smile, leaning back in your chair as you took another long sip of the tea. “I appreciate that, Sharon. I truly do.”

Sharon’s smile widened as she lifted her own cup, taking a delicate sip. You watched, waiting for any hint of hesitation, any sign that something might be amiss. But she continued to drink, her expression remaining calm and serene.

The two of you continued to talk, your words coming slower now, your thoughts softening at the edges. The tea’s warmth wrapped around you like a cocoon, soothing every frayed nerve, every lingering worry.

You chatted for a while longer, until the cups were nearly empty and the candles burned lower. By then, any lingering doubt had melted away, replaced by the comforting haze of peace the tea seemed to bring.

“Thank you for sharing this with me, Sharon,” you murmured drowsily, a soft smile curving your lips. “I feel better already.”

“I’m so glad to hear that, Your Majesty,” Sharon replied, her voice carrying a note of quiet satisfaction.

As you leaned back, letting your eyes drift shut for a moment, you missed the flicker of triumph in Sharon’s gaze. The tea may have tasted the same for both of you, but the effects would be vastly different.

And with each sip, the future Sharon envisioned—one without an heir to solidify your reign—crept ever closer.

× × × × 

The comforting haze of the tea still lingered in your mind, warmth radiating through you even as the echo of Sharon’s parting words faded into silence.

You barely noticed the gentle click of the door closing as Sharon took her leave, her footfalls soft and measured as she made her way down the hallway, the silver tray held steady in her hands.

She moved with the same graceful poise as always, her face composed, the hint of a satisfied smile lingering at the corners of her lips. But as she turned the corner to leave, she froze—just for a fraction of a second—her gaze catching on the tall figure who’d appeared at the end of the hall.

Captain Rogers.

Steve stood there, his broad frame casting a long shadow under the dim lantern light, the familiar, stoic set of his jaw making him look almost like a statue—unyielding and immovable. He’d arrived to relieve the guard outside your chambers, his presence a steadfast barrier between you and the dangers that lurked in the night.

But as his eyes locked onto Sharon’s, something shifted—something tense, wary.

He didn’t say a word. Neither did she. They simply regarded each other in silence, the air between them thick with unspoken questions and guarded suspicion.

Steve’s gaze dropped briefly to the tray Sharon held—the empty cups, the elegant teapot glinting softly in the low light. His brows furrowed, just slightly, the faintest sign of curiosity etched onto his face.

Sharon’s fingers tightened imperceptibly around the tray’s handles, but she maintained her polite, serene expression. She gave him the barest of nods, a silent acknowledgment of his presence, then turned on her heel and continued down the corridor, the soft rustling of her skirts trailing behind her.

Steve watched her go, his gaze never leaving her retreating figure. Even after she rounded the corner and disappeared from sight, he remained still, his eyes narrowed in thought.

A faint clink echoed from where she’d been moments before—the sound of the tray shifting ever so slightly, betraying the tension in her grip. It lingered in the silence that followed, a tiny, insignificant noise that somehow felt… wrong.

Steve’s jaw tightened, and he glanced back at the closed door to your chambers, his posture stiffening.

He hadn’t seen Sharon’s face during any of the council meetings, but he’d heard whispers about her—rumors and murmurs that drifted through the palace like a subtle breeze. Whispers of bitterness, of a deep-seated resentment that no one quite understood.

And now, here she was, slipping away in the dead of night with a tray of empty cups.

He took a slow, measured breath, then turned to the guard he was relieving, nodding curtly. “I’ll take over now,” he said, his voice low and firm.

The guard nodded, giving a quick salute before stepping back and marching down the corridor, his footsteps fading into the distance.

Once alone, Steve shifted his gaze back to the corner where Sharon had vanished. He remained still, listening to the silence that filled the hall. Then, with a barely perceptible shake of his head, he turned back to your door, his expression guarded.

Whatever had transpired inside your chambers, whatever had passed between you and Sharon, it would have to wait until morning. For now, he would do what he’d always done: stand sentinel, watch, and ensure your safety.

But even as he settled into position outside your chambers, the image of Sharon’s face—calm, composed, and just a touch too serene—lingered in his mind.

And deep down, in a part of him that had always been more instinct than thought, Steve knew:

Something wasn’t right.

× × × × 

A few hours before.

The sound of metal scraping against metal echoed through the stone basement in Annecy, the dim candlelight casting flickering shadows against the damp walls. Bucky’s breaths came in short, sharp huffs, his chest heaving as he strained against the leather restraints that bound his arms and legs to the wooden chair. Every muscle in his body was tensed, veins bulging under his skin as he braced himself for what was to come.

Doctor Zemo stood across from him, meticulously adjusting a series of metal probes and needles connected to a brass device on the table. The contraption hummed ominously, wires sparking to life as Zemo calibrated the dials, his expression blank, methodical. Cold. 

“This will hurt,” he stated, not out of warning, but as a detached observation.

Bucky didn’t respond. Sweat dripped down his face, pooling in the hollow of his collarbone. His gaze flickered to the side, catching a glimpse of Steve and Sam standing just beyond the iron bars separating them from the room. Their expressions were twisted with anguish, eyes betraying their helplessness.

“You don’t have to do this, Buck,” Steve whispered, his voice strained. His hands were gripping the bars so tightly his knuckles had turned white. Sam, standing beside him, looked away, his jaw clenched.

“I have to,” Bucky ground out through gritted teeth. His voice wavered, but his eyes held a fierce determination. “If this is what it takes to stop it…” He didn’t finish the sentence, but they all knew what he meant.

“Begin,” Zemo ordered, ignoring the exchange. With a flick of his wrist, he activated the machine.

The first jolt sent Bucky’s body arching off the chair, a strangled scream tearing from his throat. His metal arm thrashed violently against the restraints, the vibranium whirring and sparking as the energy surged through it. Zemo watched impassively, his gaze fixed on the way Bucky’s eyes rolled back, the pain so intense it nearly swallowed him whole.

“Stop it—God, Zemo, stop!” Steve shouted, his voice cracking. He made a move toward the door, but Sam caught his arm, holding him back. 

Bucky’s screams filled the room, reverberating off the walls. Every second felt like an eternity, each new wave of pain forcing a deeper, more guttural sound from his chest. The muscles in his neck strained, his face contorting with agony. He gasped for breath, his back slamming against the chair as the electric current ceased for a brief moment.

Steve turned his face away, his shoulders shaking. Sam’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as he stared at the floor, unable to bear the sight. 

“Why are you doing this?” Sam hissed, his voice barely audible. “This is torture.”

“It is necessary,” Zemo replied coldly, not even sparing them a glance. “To sever the Winter Soldier from James Barnes completely, I must isolate the root cause. It’s the only way to stop the episodes.” He turned a dial, and the machine buzzed louder, casting an eerie, blue light across the room.

Bucky gasped, his body convulsing as the current tore through him again. Blood dripped from his nose, his eyes red and wild. 

“Make it stop!” Steve shouted, his voice breaking. “Please, Zemo, stop!”

But Zemo remained unmoved. The torment continued, relentless and unyielding. Bucky’s screams gradually faded into hoarse cries, his voice giving out as his body sagged against the restraints, utterly spent. His head hung low, sweat and blood mingling, dripping onto the floor. But even then, his fingers twitched, the tremors of pain echoing through him.

“Enough,” Zemo finally said, his tone clinical. He turned off the machine, the hum dying down to silence. The air was thick with the aftermath, Bucky’s ragged breaths the only sound in the room. Zemo approached him slowly, removing the needles and probes with steady hands. “It is done. . .for now.”

Bucky’s head lifted weakly, his eyes glazed over but still defiant, still fighting. He looked at Steve, then Sam, a flicker of something unbroken in his gaze. 

“It’s okay,” he rasped, his voice barely audible. “I can take it.”

Steve’s chest tightened, tears slipping down his cheeks despite his best efforts to hold them back. “You shouldn’t have to,” he whispered, voice trembling.

But Bucky’s lips twitched into the faintest shadow of a smile, the kind of smile that spoke of years of pain, years of enduring and surviving. 

“I can take it.”

Tags: @theendofthematerialgworl @httpb3a @spiidergirlsworld @sebastians-love @stevesbbgorl

@targaryenhues @almosttoopizza @scott-loki-barnes @brckenmemories @vicmc624

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@landoslutmeout @winterslove1917 @missvelvetsstuff @s0kovianwitch @lveegsoi

@suckerfordylansstuff @daydream-believer19 @shadowzena43 @itsshellzy @decaffeinatedjellyfishduck

@melsunshine @barnesxstan @singsosworld @kitsunetori

@im-normal-about-characters @hayleythecannibal

[primavera-weirdeggii]

Skizzleman Week day 2!

Prompt: Hybrid/AU (by @skizzlemanweek)

AU of my own creation: Cave Dwellers AU - continued from yesterday

With every step he took towards the blue-spattered crevice, his anticipation grew.

The rumbling noise disappeared after a few minutes, but the weird fog in his vision remained.

The blue substance was definitely coming from something within the crevice, and it appeared to be growing out in veins from wherever the source was.

Skizz crouched down just in front of one of the tendrils, poking it with the tip of his sword. The substance scraped away from where his sword drew its path.

���Huh.” He breathed.

He cautiously stood back up again, being careful not to jostle his shoulder too much. He tested his sore foot and found that it didn’t hurt as badly as it did before.

The blue substance appeared to have a texture similar to moss, or maybe mold. It didn’t look toxic or anything, but there was definitely an odd aura about it.

There was an odd aura about this entire caving trip. Skizz had never been this lost before, nor had he ever been this unlucky when it came to finding resources - and that’s saying something.

He can’t find the exit to this cave, so he might as well try to figure out what’s going on. The blue substance must have something to do with it, since he’s never been this unlucky, and he’s never seen the substance before.

Skizz ducked his head and walked further into the crevice. He found that it was basically a thin tunnel, which was completely covered in the blue substance. His iron boots squished slightly into the ground with every step.

As he went deeper, he began to see little white flecks mixed in with the blue. Eventually, he came across a patch of the substance with tentacles growing from it.

“Huh,” Skizz breathed, and then jumped as the tendrils suddenly waved as he spoke.

“Whoa,” he said again, and the tendrils waved and lit up a slight blue.

“This is cool!” He cheered, and the tendrils lit up, waved, and made a little noise.

Suddenly, something deeper in the cavern shrieked, and the same rumbling noise from earlier started up again.

Skizz froze as the fog thickened, and the rumbling seemed like it was coming from all around him.

The fog was so thick that he couldn’t see anything at all - not even his hand in front of his face. His breathing picked up, and he pressed his back against the wall.

The wall squished under his weight, and he threw himself away with a barely-repressed shriek, brushing away bits of the blue substance that clung to his clothes.

He didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know what was going on - Skizz was just gonna stand here and be silent until the chaos went away.

He wrapped his arms around himself, cringing in pain as he moved his injured arm, and waited.

Eventually the rumbling stopped, and Skizz let his arms fall away with a sigh.

“What are you doing?!”

Skizz jumped about a thousand feet in the air at the hushed voice. “What the— who’s there?” He called.

“Shhhh!” The voice shushed. “Get outta there man! You’re gonna summon the warden!”

“What the heck is a warden?” Skizz asked, keeping his voice down this time. He turned his head around, looking for the source of the voice. The fog was still thicker than ever, so his attempts were unsuccessful.

“Obviously you don’t know, you were literally talking to a sculk sensor…” the voice mumbled, a hint of snark in their tone.

“Quit judging me! Where are you even talking to me from?”

“I’m literally right above you, you can’t see me?”

“No! It’s pitch black in here!” Skizz looked up anyway, trying to see if he could find the person behind the disembodied voice.

“I can see just fine!”

“Then why don’t you come to me?” Skizz snarked. He was getting tired of this game - if this guy wanted something from Skizz, he should at least show himself.

“Fine.” Skizz heard the whoosh of air being displaced, and the soft squish of something landing on the blue substance. “Now are you gonna answer my question?”

Skizz turned to look at where he heard the person land, but could only make out a vague outline. The person had a bulkier build, and was shorter than himself, and Skizz could clearly make out the wings of a bat hybrid. Skizz blinked a few times, trying to clear his vision to no avail. “What question?”

The person sighed, and Skizz could practically taste the eye-roll. “Why you’re yelling in a warden’s den.”

“I was only yelling because I got hurt! And the tentacle-thingy was glowing when I’d talk.”

“The ‘tentacle thingy’ is called a sculk sensor, and setting them off can trigger a shrieker, which summons the warden.” The person explained. “Which is why we have to be quiet.”

Skizz blinked. “Was that the rumbling sound then? The warden?”

“No, the warden wasn’t summoned yet. The rumbling serves as a sort of warning. The first three rumbling sounds are warnings, and the fourth one summons the warden.”

This guy sure is saying some words, and Skizz can only understand some of them. “So, wait, what is the warden?”

Silence for a moment, where Skizz thinks he isn’t going to answer. Then, the mystery person speaks. “You really aren’t from down here are you?”

“No, of course not!” Skizz exclaims, throwing his arms out. “I’ve been running around this cave system like an idiot for hours! I got chased by spiders, shot in the arm, and jump-scared by some random guy-!” Skizz pointed at the figure, who twitched backward at the action. “-who started being rude for no reason and still won’t answer my question. So I’ll ask again. What. Is. The warden?!”

The word echoed in the confined space of the cavern, amplified by the close-knit walls. Skizz realized what he had done a second too late, as the tendrils on the sculk sensor waved and made a sound, and a shrieker screamed further down the cavern.

“Shit.” He and the person said at once.

Then the rumbling began.

Worse than before, the whole cavern began to shake. The fragile sculk vines shook and fell away from the walls with the intensity of the tremors, and what little he could see was quickly swallowed up by the thickest fog he’s ever seen. He couldn’t even make out the slightest shape of the bat hybrid’s body anymore.

On the other end of the cavern, something began to emerge from the ground. The sculk warped and bulged and squished around, as something unearthed itself.

Skizz could hear his heartbeat in his ears - or, maybe it wasn’t his heartbeat, but instead a horrific sound coming from something else in this cave.

He felt someone grab the wrist of his left arm and pull, and he hissed in pain as his injury flared at the treatment.

“We need to go. Now.” The voice hissed.

Skizz could tell this wasn’t the time to argue, and frankly, he was inclined to listen to whatever this guy would tell him right now. He’s injured, scared, and frankly, tired of being in this cave. He nodded, not knowing if it was safe to talk.

“The warden is blind, so it can only track us through sound and smell. I can get us out of here, but you’re gonna have to trust me. I know- I know that’s a big ask of someone you just met, but-“

Skizz slid his hand over the bat hybrids’, cutting off his rambling and giving a firm nod. This guy is the expert here, and Skizz knows when to give the authority to someone else.

The warden fully emerged from the ground - Skizz could hear it sniffing and groaning from here.

“Okay,” the hybrid breathed entwining their fingers, “hold on.”

Skizz squeezed the hybrid's hand and felt his other arm go around his waist, pulling Skizz to his side. Then, with a beat of the hybrid’s wings, they leaped up onto a ledge in the cavern, several meters from the floor.

The warden groaned as it wandered towards where they just were, sniffing the spot where Skizz had leaned against the wall - some of his blood must’ve got on the sculk from his sleeve.

The warden had tendrils on its head that were similar to those of the sculk sensor, and Skizz imagined they served the same purpose. The wardens rib cage was exposed, and now Skizz could clearly see the source of the heartbeat - the warden had a giant heart beating away in that chest.

The hybrid pulled on Skizz’s hand again, and Skizz turned to look.

The fog was less thick up here, and he could just barely make out the other person’s eyes. They were entirely black, no visible pupil or iris or anything. Just like, well, a bat’s eyes.

“C’mon,” The hybrid said. “We’re not in the clear yet.”

Skizz nodded, continuing to follow their lead. They pulled him by the hand along a narrow path carved into the ceiling. As they walked, Skizz let the fingers of his other hand drag against the wall, and he could clearly feel chips and scratches that could only have been made by a pickaxe.

The sounds of the warden got quieter the further away they went, and eventually the pathway turned away from the crevice and into the wall, presumably deeper into the general cave area.

Eventually, the blindness caused by the warden completely faded, and Skizz could get a good look at his companion.

The bat hybrid was wearing dark clothing with accents of a lighter color - it was still too dark to tell what. His wings were a dark brown, and his hair was a similar shade. Skizz looked down to their joined hands and spotted nicely manicured nails - or maybe just dull claws.

The warden was so far removed from them that it wasn’t even a threat anymore, but Skizz still didn’t want to let go of his hand.

“My name is Impulse, by the way.” The hybrid said, glancing back at Skizz as they kept walking, offering a kind smile.

Skizz returned it with a sheepish one of his own. “I’m Skizz. Sorry we got off on the wrong foot earlier, I was scared and didn’t know what was happening.”

“Don’t sweat it man, I understand. Just… maybe next time don’t scream at me while stood next to a sculk sensor.”

Skizz laughed, swinging their hands between them (and immediately regretting it when his shoulder stung from the motion). “No promises.”

[asahicore]

cherry pits - psh (m)

this work contains smut - minors please do not interact

pairing. dad!sunghoon x fem!reader

synopsis. Your alarmingly empty bank account forces you to find a last-minute summer job so that you can afford a trip with your friends. The extremely handsome customer that comes into the store just happens to be a young single dad who's renovating the old house next to yours. The tension that settles between the two of you as you start helping him fix up his house soon becomes unbearable, but it's all one-sided anyway, right?

(Spoiler: wrong.)

genre. DILF AUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!, neighbors au, s2l, summer au, slight age gap (reader is 21 and hoon 26), reader is so down bad over sunghoon its actually crazy but also extremely relatable cause this is sunghoon we're talking about, fluff and smut, sex gets freakyyy ngl

word count. 12.9k

a/n. hey sisters had no time to write anything this week so i am coming back (everybody boos) with a repost yayyy!!! i actually love this story idkw i just find it fun so i hope you guys will enjoy rereading / reading it !!!! as always let me know ur thoughts.. even if they're just incomprehensible screaming (bad or good).. im happy w anything ok bye!!!

You’ve always wondered about the ratio of cherry to pit. Such a big pit for so little flesh, isn’t it? Yet that’s never stopped you from biting into the small fruit, eating what you could and spitting out the unwanted part. You actually rather enjoy this whole process. Bite, eat, spit. You could repeat this with huge bowls of cherries at a time until they upset your stomach and you had to stop for your own good.

Bite, eat, spit is exactly what you’re doing when, with a trembling finger, you finally brave to open your banking app and check your balance. It’s the beginning of summer, and after two semesters of intense studying and too-much-coffee drinking, you think you deserve three long months of doing nothing but hanging out in your childhood bedroom and eating the food your parents buy and make. You’re especially looking forward to the vacation in Mexico you have planned with your friends at the end of August.

One look at your bank account and your dreams of white beaches and seas so blue you couldn’t tell them apart from the sky shatter around you, the sad, low numbers on the screen sneering at you mockingly. You were sure you had saved enough money from part-time jobs and generous relatives, but now you regret all of those night-outs and lazy takeaways. If you had cut down on those, maybe you wouldn’t have to go through the hassle of finding a summer job at the last minute, which you would definitely have to do if you wanted to eat something on that dear beach of yours and not just starve to death under the glaring sun.

That was it - tomorrow, you’d go and get a job. Today, however, you’d enjoy your last day of respite and eat some more cherries, or maybe make some jam and a pie so your parents wouldn’t chide you for eating them all, and then go pick some more from the three trees in your backyard. You’d sit outside, enjoying the warmth of the sun while you read or, if you couldn’t be asked, while you listened to the bustle of the old and worn-down house next door being renovated. You’re surprised someone had the courage to buy it and give it a new life, but you assume that’s the kind of courage that comes with having time and money. 

Yesterday night, you’d heard a little girl playing outside until her mom called her in saying it was time to go, so you made up a story of your neighbors being newlyweds that had decided they’d had enough of the city and wanted to raise their daughter in a calmer town far from busy streets and loud honks. You could bring them some cherries, maybe in jam or pie form, as a housewarming gift.

Unfortunately, the day passed and you were too busy doing nothing to actually get around to baking, so you decided to do nothing some more and then go to bed, needing rest before your big job hunt.

You’d gravely overestimated the amount of job opportunities in your small hometown, only receiving apologetic looks from the store owners as they tell you they don’t need any help, or worse, already have someone. Damn those 16-year-olds who only get summer jobs so they can blow their whole pay in a couple weeks before school starts again. You, on the other hand, need that money for important things, like sipping on a cocktail at a bar with a seaview.

The local hardware store next to the train station is your saving grace. It looks quite small from the outside, but once you step inside, rows of lamps and mirrors in all shapes and sizes along with all kinds of household needs welcome you, followed by a section for gardening and pet caretaking. The basement is where all the paints and brushes were, as well as the more technical (technical to you, at least) products, like bolts and tools or kitchen and bathroom appliances.

A lot of people undertake renovations in their homes during their free time in the summer, so it’s important for the store to have their experts helping out customers in their dedicated aisles rather than working behind the till and restocking the shelves, which is what you will be doing for the next two months. The pay is slightly above minimum wage and with twenty-one hours of work a week, you’ll earn more than enough to enjoy your vacation. You start tomorrow.

Your co-workers are happy to welcome a new face into their team. They’re nice even if they have the tendency to drone on about different types of tools and the importance of choosing the right brush for the surface you’re painting, which you don’t particularly care about, but you think you might as well learn as much as you can during your time here; it might always come in handy later.

As you expected, it isn’t the most stimulating job ever, but you aren’t bored out of your mind either. You make small talk with customers as they explain their purchases, some more defensively than others, even if you didn’t ask. You make sure to restock the shelves correctly and sometimes ask for help when you feel your arms giving out after hours of carrying heavy stuff. When no one’s in, you like to rearrange the cute bathroom decorations so that they make a little rainbow of toothbrush and soap holders.

You were daydreaming about what you would do with your friends in Mexico and all the cherries you could eat there when a man so handsome you thought he was a part of your dream walks in. He doesn’t notice (or maybe he just ignores it, you’re not sure) your gawking and smiles at you, saying “hello” before turning his attention to the map which details where everything is stored at the entrance of the shop. You manage a small “h-hello” back that probably doesn’t even reach his ears, and you curse yourself for doing a poor job of greeting a customer just because said customer looks like he’s been pushed from the heavens above onto this unworthy earth by the other angels who were jealous of his beauty. 

You stay put behind the counter the whole time he’s there to avoid the potential embarrassment of running into him in a random aisle and making a fool of yourself. There isn’t much to do anyway, so you rearrange the organic protein bars and chewing-gum at the counter and count all the money in the cash register to distract yourself. He doesn’t spend a very long time browsing and after twenty minutes, you see him approach with a cart full of the biggest cans of paint the store offers. It’s mostly white paint, but there are some browns and grays, and one of pink as well.

You thank God for those twenty minutes because they allowed you to get a hold of yourself so that you didn’t gape at him like a dead fish instead of scanning his articles, which is what you are very professionally and expertly doing. “That’s a lot of paint,” you comment lightheartedly, partly just to prove to yourself that you can also speak in front of this man.

“I know,” he chuckles, and it seems unfair that his voice should be just as attractive as his face. “The previous owners of the house I just bought had terrible taste in wallpaper and wall colors, so I have to repaint basically the whole house. Everything has to go, really. The floors, the furniture, the lights.”

“Sounds like you’re going to have a busy summer. That’ll be $132.76, please.”

“I’ll pay by card,” he says as he brings his wallet out from his back pocket and inserts his card into the reader, which allows you to look freely at his tanned arms and the veins that protrude here and there. He can’t be older than thirty, so there’s probably not that much of an age difference between the two of you, but damn does he look more mature in the sexiest way possible than all of the male college students you’re used to seeing on a daily basis. If anything, he reminds you of the hot young Linguistics professor your whole department likes to drool over. 

The beep of the payment being accepted snaps you out of your daze. “And yeah, it’ll sure be a busy summer. I’ll need a lot of stuff from here, so you might have to get used to seeing me around,” he says with a smile that makes your heart skip a beat. There’s no way this walking Greek god of a man is actually flirting with you, but the glint in his eyes tells you it wasn’t just an off-hand comment.

“I could get used to that,” you surprise yourself by replying confidently, your smile mirroring his as pretty dimples appear on each side of his face.

You hand him the receipt and notice his eyes flickering down to your name tag before trapping yours in his gaze once again. You don’t think you ever want to look away. “I’ll see you around, Y/N,” he says and walks out with his cart and his tons of paint before you can say anything, lest ask his name, except for “see you.”

You take a deep breath in and another out when he’s out of sight, trying to calm your racing heart. You can’t wait to rave to the girls’ group chat about this, but one of your coworkers calls you for help and you have to put the handsome stranger to the back of your mind for a while.

—

That weekend, your parents ask you to do something about the cherries slowly starting to spoil in the fridge, so you put on your headphones and listen to an audiobook for entertainment, then get to pitting. It feels wrong to listen to The Kiss Quotient and its many smut scenes when your parents are coming and going out of the room, but what they don’t know won’t kill them; you just try to keep your reactions to a minimum during the extra spicy scenes.

Pitting cherries is an arduous task that always takes longer than you think it will, but you never complain about it. You’ve found the perfect technique of cutting them in half around the pit, turning the small fruit without squeezing it, extracting the stone and making sure it doesn’t get confused and end up in the bowl with the pitted cherries, all without tiring your wrists after ten minutes. A surprise pit in a cherry pie can add to the charm of a homemade dessert, but you’d rather not have to spit out five of them while trying to eat one slice.

You prepare a crumbly dough to make two classic American-style pies and fill four jars with cherry jam that you cook while the doughs rest. It’s almost offensive how small the cherries become as they cook, the amount that fills those four jars having filled eight before, but you decide there’s no reason to take it personally since the cherries don’t do it on purpose, and put the jars away to cool down. You roll out the first rested dough and despair for a bit when it keeps on falling apart, but it just makes it more satisfying once you have it perfectly thinly rolled out and covering the tin. The second one is a bit nicer to you and you only have to try rolling it out twice. 

Two hours later, as the sun finally starts to relent and a cooler breeze flows through the air, the pies are all baked, cooled and ready to be eaten. You leave one for you and your parents to enjoy later, then head over to the next house to greet your new neighbors with the other pie. You knock and wait for a good thirty seconds before getting any sort of response, making you think no one’s in.

“Y/N?” a semi-familiar voice calls out, and your head whips in its direction. If this were a cartoon or a 2012 teen show, you’d probably drop the pie tin, but thankfully, your hands aren’t that sweaty, and the shock of the man from the other day at the store being your neighbor isn’t that great, because of course, of course he’s your neighbor. You’re Y/N, after all; the almighty gods above would never let you have a boring, uneventful summer. Of course the hot new man in town is your neighbor.

“Oh! Hi! Guess we’re neighbors. Ha,” you say with a clumsy smile, holding the tin over your forearm as your other hand shields your eyes from the sunlight so you can look at him without squinting your eyes.

“Neighbors?” he repeats as he joins you on the front porch, taking off his gloves dirtied by the mud and using the back of his hand to wipe off some sweat from his forehead. The sweat makes his hair stick to his face and there are small beads of it falling from his hairline down onto his white t-shirt. You detect the slightest of stubbles on his chin and upper lip, probably from not having shaved for just a day or two. He’s even tanner than when you saw him a few days ago, and his thick eyebrows form a straight line as he frowns in what you guess is tiredness and perhaps confusion from seeing you in regular clothes and holding a pie tin on his porch. For a second, you’re scared he might think you’re some kind of stalker, but you nod and tilt your head towards your house. 

“Yep. That one just over there behind you.”

He turns his upper body to take a look at your house and nods slowly as he turns back around, gaze finding yours again like the other day at the store. You have no idea who this man is - hell, you don’t even know his name - but good lord are you attracted to him, especially when he gives you that unreadable smile that shows off his dimples. 

“Huh. What a coincidence,” he says, and that could mean anything in the world, but you hope he means it in a good way. “I’m Sunghoon, by the way.” he adds, extending his hand for you to take, which you do, and the simple action of shaking his hand without eye contact ever breaking is enough to send shivers down your spine. Hopefully, this goes unnoticed by this Sunghoon.

A walking wet dream. That’s what this man is. He’s walked right out of your deepest Wattpad-induced fantasies and into the house next door. Probably doesn’t help that you’d been listening to literary porn just fifteen minutes prior. 

“Is that pie?” he asks as he releases your hand.

“It is, cherry pie I made myself with cherries from our backyard. A housewarming gift, if you will. Here,” you reply, offering him the tin.

He takes it from your hands, the tips of his fingers slightly grazing yours, on purpose or not, you’re not sure. He lifts some of the aluminum covering the pie and peeks underneath, then hums appreciatively. “Thanks, it looks really good. I’ve been living off of ready-meals and casseroles from the neighbors, so this’ll be really nice.”

“Well we’ve got tons of cherries, so feel free to ask whenever you want some,” you offer, and he nods. A small silence settles between the two of you and you’re about to excuse yourself so it doesn’t get awkward when he invites you in, asking if you’d like to have a piece with him.

“If you want to, I mean. I was gonna take a break anyway,” he says somewhat coyly, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. You’re surprised to see him being anything else other than confident and self-assured, but it only makes him look cuter in your eyes.

“Sure,” you accept with a smile, letting him lead you inside the house.

“Sorry, it smells like paint all over the house. That’s why I was outside, doing some gardening while I aired the house out,” he explains. “Let me just get some plates and a knife out. And something for us to drink. Do you want to drink something? I’ve got water, or some iced tea or lemonade. The grandma across the street made some for me,” he says all at once, and you suppress a giggle at his sudden nervous behavior.

“Sunghoon?”

“Yeah?” he responds almost immediately, turning to you just as you both reach the kitchen.

“Just water is fine.”

A shy smile makes his dimples appear once again as he nods. “Okay, sounds good.” You help him carry everything to the back porch and set down the glasses and a jug of water on a table with two chairs around it.

“The porches are the only parts I won’t have to fix up too much, for some reason.”

“You’re going to redo the whole house yourself?” you ask, surprised, as you pour two glasses of water and he serves you a slice of cherry pie (“there might be some stray cherry pits, so be careful,” you warn as he sets a slice on his plate).

“A lot of it, yeah, but I’ve also got some people to help out. My dad’s a carpenter so I know my way around these things, but I also know it’s better and faster to have more than one man on the job, so some guys he works with come a couple times a week.”

“Yeah, with the state this house is in, you’d need more than a summer if you did everything yourself,” you comment, and he chuckles, agreeing. “My friends and I used to make stories about how this place is haunted, you know,” you say jokingly.

“Please don’t jinx my house from the get-go,” he says, making you laugh.

“Sorry, sorry. It’ll be nice seeing it all fixed-up, actually.”

“Have you lived here long?” he asks, looking at you thoughtfully as he takes another bite of the pie. “This is really good, by the way.”

“Thanks. And yeah, my whole life. I go away when semester starts but come back for the holidays and the summer.”

“So you're a student?”

“Yeah, just at the state university a few hours away. Not too far away that it’s a hassle traveling back, but not too close that I go home every weekend. What about you, what do you do?”

You wait for his answer while he swallows his mouthful and take another bite yourself. “I teach,” he starts as he dabs the corners of his lips with a napkin. “Fifth graders, on the other side of town. I used to live in a small apartment near the school I work at but it’s nicer, having more space. I saved enough money to buy this house and fix it up, so here I am now,” he says, gesturing to the house and the garden with his arms. 

You notice his use of the first person pronoun when he talks about where he used to live and his house now, which makes you wonder if it’s just him, even though you were sure you heard a woman and a young girl’s voices the other day. Surely, if he wasn’t single, he wouldn’t have invited you in or given you flirtatious looks, right? Or were you reading totally wrong into this and he was just an exceptionally friendly person?

You put these questions to the side and continue chatting with Sunghoon, letting the subject of his marital status come up on its own during your conversation. And indeed, you get your answer when he tells you about the different parts of the house he plans on having, one of them being a bedroom for his daughter.

“Oh, so you have a daughter? How old is she?” you ask as you take a sip of water, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. Considering his age, you expect that his child will be one, two years old max, so his answer makes you almost choke on your drink.

“She’s turning eight this summer.”

“Eight?” you repeat as you set your glass down, looking at him wide-eyed. So much for nonchalance. “But you’re so-”

“Young? Yeah, I know,” he interrupts with a knowing smile, probably used to this kind of reaction. “I’m 26,” he adds, then watches as you do the simple math in your head. When you turn to him with a surprised look, he answers your question before you’ve even asked it. “Yep, I had her when I was 18.”

“Wow,” is all you can say. “Can I ask what happened?”

“Sure. I mean, it’s nothing extraordinary or anything. I was in my last year of high school, and I got my girlfriend at the time pregnant. We’d only been dating four months but her parents wouldn’t let her get an abortion. They’re really religious. They took care of our baby, with the help of my parents, while I went to community college and she retook senior year since she had to drop out halfway through the year. No, we’re not together anymore, if you’re wondering,” he says, catching you off guard, as if he’d read your thoughts. 

He chuckles before sighing and continues. “If none of this had happened, we’d probably have broken up before going off to college and proceeded to forget about each other. We started out living with her parents, then got that small apartment I told you about when she found a job. We’re not on bad terms by any means, but we’ve just not been in love since Chaeryeong turned 2, probably. We’ve been more roommates than a couple for the past six years. And you know, we kept on living together for Chaer mainly, but she’s found a new boyfriend and I wanted to have my own place. Which has led me here.”

You nod slowly, letting the whole story sink in. “You’re both handling this situation really maturely, it sounds like. I’ve heard of so many teenage parents fighting all the time and not taking care of their kids properly.”

“She’s already got a weird parental situation, it’s the least we can do for her to behave like adults, you know.”

“Right, of course,” you say, nodding again. Your hot new neighbor was actually a DILF, you realized a bit inappropriately, perhaps. Cherry on top.

He tells you a bit more about his daughter and you keep talking until your dad calls you, asking you why you’re not home at dinner time, and you only notice then how long you’ve been sitting there with Sunghoon, just talking. You tell him you feel bad for taking up so much of his time but he shakes your apologies off.

“It was my pleasure, really. And thanks again for the pie, I think Chaer will love it.”

He walks you to the front door and calls out your name after you’ve waved goodbye and started walking. You didn’t know you had been expecting him to do anything until you heard the hopeful tone in your own voice. “Yeah?”

“You any good with kids?” he asks, leaning against the doorway with crossed arms and a smirk that makes your heart flutter.

Although you’ve only got one older brother, you have younger cousins as well as older ones that have babies of their own, so you’re not a complete stranger to kids, but more importantly, you like them. They have the world to learn, but they say surprisingly smart things and have really cute faces.

“I’d say that I am, yeah,” you reply, a smile growing on your face, mirroring his expression.

“Good,” he says, and pauses a second for good measure. “I’ll see you later.”

“See you later, Sunghoon,” you say as you turn back and head to your house, letting him enjoy the view of you walking away. 

On the short way home, you realize that you completely have the hots for your neighbor, although you probably knew that before. Is it twisted that you like him more now that you know he’s got a kid? Probably a little bit, but you’re not going to fight it. He’s single, after all. And not even thirty. A five-year gap isn’t unheard of. 

Your parents ask you where you’ve been as you set the table and get ready for dinner. “Just over at our new neighbor’s house to give him some pie and say hi,” you say as you toss the salad in its bowl, spreading the dressing evenly. 

“Ooh, the neighbor,” your mother echoes knowingly, wiggling her eyebrows, and steals a leaf of lettuce when it falls from the bowl because of your vigorous tossing. “We should have him over at some point, welcome him into the neighborhood. I’ve seen him a bit, you know. Out painting on his front porch or when he was in his garden the same time as me. He’s a very attractive young man,” she says, lowering her voice so your dad doesn’t hear even though he’s outside grilling the meat. “Do you know how old he is? Looks a bit young for a homeowner to me, but who knows what young people are up to these days.

“He’s twenty-six, and he’s saved a lot of money. Plus, I don’t think that house was very expensive. From what he’s told me, the renovations will basically cost as much as the house itself. He’s also got a kid.”

“Aw, must be a cute baby,” she says as your father walks in, carrying a tray of steaming barbecued steaks and potatoes.

“She’s eight,” you say bluntly, causing them both to look at you with wide eyes.

“Oh, right, then. Happens,” your mother says, bringing her glass of water to her lips and taking a sip from it. “Is he still with the mother?”

“They broke up a while ago, but they’re on good terms,” you say, and your mom nods slowly at the information.

“So, he’s single, huh?” she says, trying to hide her smile, earning herself a groan from your dad and a chuckle from you. 

“C’mon, mom!”

“What? You can’t deny that he’s attractive, and he’s single. Plus, you two must get along well if you spent a couple hours talking. Sure, he’s got a kid, but you love those, don’t you?”

“Mom, you of all people would know kids aren’t pets. Dating someone with an eight-year-old isn’t the same as dating someone with a cat.

“No one’s asking you to be that girl’s mom,” she says, dishing out some meat for the three of you. “I’d go get that man, if I were you.”

Your dad shakes his head and you eat your food as you listen to them bickering with a smile. You think about what your mother said - should you go and get Sunghoon? Your heart says yes, but your brain is a bit more reluctant. Another part of your body, lower down there, is screaming ‘yes’ at you.

He does live right by, after all.

That night, you FaceTime your roommate and best friend from college and bring her up to date about ‘the hot man from the store the other day.’ She paints her toenails but listens intently as she always does when you talk about boys, humming and chuckling here and there.

“God, Y/N, I didn’t know you had daddy issues, of all things.”

You gasp fake-dramatically. “Excuse me, I do not! I was attracted to him before I knew he was a dad, I’ll let you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Let me know when you guys actually hook up, I’m curious whether older men are actually better,” she says, making you scoff.

“I hope he is. I’m very much tired of those boys that don’t know where the clit is and use too much tongue.”

“You know, when I complain to my mom about guys, she always tells me to wait it out a few years. She says they get more mature and, well, she didn’t say that outright, but she very heavily implied that the sex is much, much better. Kinda gross hearing it from her, but it’s good information.”

You hum. “Well, he’s not that much older… But let’s hope that it still makes a difference,” you say, and then move on to another topic. 

—

One thing that eating cherries has taught you is that if you want to enjoy eating the sweet flesh, you’ll need to deal with the pit as well. Ever the grand philosopher, you realized soon enough that this was applicable to real life and not just your favorite fruit. Wanna get a good grade on your test? Gotta study for it. Wanna go on holiday to Mexico? Gotta find a summer job and earn money.

Wanna make your way to Sunghoon’s bed? Gotta seduce him.

Over the following days, you stand behind the counter at the hardware store, elbow perched on the hard surface, head resting on your palm and vision fuzzy as you daydream about your next encounter with Sunghoon. More often than not, a customer will clear their throat to awkwardly let you know of their presence and you’ll have to exchange your imagined dialogue with Sunghoon for a quick apology and some pleasantries; more often than not, a coworker will call out your name for some help just as you get to the juicy part of your reverie. In those moments, you always feel like you’ve been caught red-handed watching softcore porn, even if no one knows the last thing about what goes on in your head, nor do they care. 

Much like the first time he walked into the store, when he does again on a Thursday morning, you think your daydreams have just gone too far and you’re now hallucinating. But, lo and behold, this is the true Park Sunghoon in the flesh, and he smiles and waves at you as he strides in before disappearing behind one of the many aisles.

You spend the next fifteen minutes going over witty conversation starters that will surely make him fall for you, only for you to stutter out a “h-hi, Sunghoon,” when he finally reaches the counter.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he jokes, and you laugh a bit too hard for a comment that isn’t that funny.

“How are the renovations going?” you ask as you scan his articles - some more paint and brushes, lots of tile glue, a bunch of nails and two different sizes of turnscrews. He frowns in concentration at the snacks next to the counter until he caves in and gets a chocolate protein bar that’s more sugar than protein. 

“Pretty okay,” he starts. “I’m in a bit of a rush, cause Chaer is already coming in two weeks and I need to have finished at least the interior by that time. My dad’s friends helped me get the roof done, so that’s good, but now they’re all busy with other sites so it's just me. Right now I’m redoing the tiles in the bathrooms. You need so much damn glue,” he says with a chuckle.

You think for a second, then timidly offer, “I could help out, you know. If you needed me to.” 

He looks at you with raised eyebrows, halfway through getting his card out of his wallet. “Really?”

“I mean, I don’t have much experience with this kinda stuff, but I’ve picked up a few things here and there from working here. If it saves you time, I could do the easy things. This job isn’t particularly physically demanding so I’ve still got energy at the end of the day. That’s $78.96, please.”

A small smile appears on his face as he inserts his card into the reader. He punches in his code and then returns your gaze. “That could be nice, actually.”

And that’s how you find yourself over at Sunghoon’s house in denim shorts and your dad’s old t-shirts almost everyday for the next two weeks, helping him fix up the old two-storey home. He measures out the perfect length for wood planks or marble tiles that you assist him in fastening to the floors of different rooms and he fixes holes in walls that you paint over afterwards. Sometimes on your breaks, you share a bowl of cherries that you brought from your garden. (One morning, you tried to make cherry juice out of them, but when after almost two hours of pitting the liquid barely filled a glass, you decided that it was too much effort and that you’d keep on just eating them and baking the occasional pie.) You asked him to tell you what each of the rooms upstairs would be and you realized that the window of his room faced yours directly. The blinds were down as they had always been, so you hadn’t known what the room would be.

“I’ve been sleeping on the couch since I haven’t gotten around to fixing up this room yet. Guess I should get to it, though,” he says, giving you a look that blurs the meaning of his words so that you’re not sure what he’s implying, which happens a bit too often with Sunghoon.

And you’d think that spending the better part of two weeks with the current man of your dreams would be amazing, right? 

Wrong. It’s unbearable.

Maybe that’s exaggerating it - it’s mostly fun, and sometimes unbearable. Usually, you’re an avid fan of sexual tension, especially with attractive men like Sunghoon. Lingering gazes, eye contacts when there shouldn’t be any, remarks with a deeper meaning that they let on, barely-there touches on the back of your hand or on your waist that manage to take your breath away. These are all very fine things that keep your heart bouncing and a blush on your cheeks, but they are supposed to amount to something more in the end. Maybe you’re impatient, but after two weeks of sending sex through your eyes to Sunghoon, you get the feeling that he doesn’t reciprocate your desire. One afternoon, you’d made sure to go and sunbathe in your bikini at the exact moment he was doing some work outside, and even then, he merely gave your body a one-over and disappeared a few minutes later inside his house. When he came back about ten minutes later, he could still barely look at you.

At the same time, there’s no way he doesn’t know what he’s doing when he stands close behind you, letting you feel the warmth of his chest against your back, big, rough hands enveloping yours as he demonstrates how to cut a plank of wood with the machine. There’s no way the way he smirks when the action turns you into a stammering mess is innocent, either.

Yet nothing happens. The tension is thick enough to be cut with a knife, but maybe Sunghoon hasn’t bought cutlery yet. The air is already heavy from the heat and the relentlessness of the sun, but this thing between you and him makes it almost suffocating, in somehow the best yet worst way possible. You’re this close to simply throwing your naked body at him, and it doesn’t help that you see his flexing, working muscles and beads of sweat on his hairline everyday. On the days he wears shorts, which is most days, all you can think of is getting off on his thick thighs, of his hands holding you tightly by the waist, of the way he’d look at you, eyes clouded over, of the words he’d whisper in your-

Your phone buzzes, interrupting you in your horny downward spiral. It’s your dear mother telling you to come home for dinner. As you pick up your phone, a second buzz. Ask Sunghoon if he wants to eat with us. 

You find him in his bedroom, adding the last touches to the walls. “I think I’ll be able to sleep here starting tomorrow night. I just need to go buy a bed,” he says when he sees your figure standing in the doorway.

“We can go together if you want,” you blurt before you can stop yourself. Hoping it’ll make you seem less weird, you add, “I’ve got really good taste in furniture.”

“Is that so?” he questions, turning to you with a smile. “I’d appreciate the second pair of eyes, actually. There’s a lot of things I need to get.”

“Yeah, I didn’t wanna comment on it, but I think you’ll end up needing more than a couch, a plastic dining table and two chairs,” you tease, making him roll his eyes lightheartedly. “We can go to that huge second-hand store they have just outside of town. You’ll be surprised how good - and cheap - the furniture is there.”

“Sounds good,” he nods, and checks his watch. “Are you going home?”

“I am. My mom’s invited you over for dinner, if you’d like,” you say, tilting your head at him.

He raises his eyebrows in delighted surprise. “I’d love to. Just need to shower first.”

“That’s fine. I’ll go home, just come over whenever you’re ready.” You exchange quick see you laters and you head home, taking a shower yourself and making sure to use your best-smelling body lotion.

Sunghoon arrives half an hour later with a bouquet of roses in his hands and an award-winning smile on his face. You let him in and he greets your parents, offering your mother the bouquet. “Sorry I took so much time getting here, I wanted to pick these out as a thank you.”

You can tell your mother is pleased to the heavens as she waves him off, leading him inside your house. “That’s awfully nice of you, Mr Park-”

“Call me Sunghoon, please,” he says with a warm smile.

“Right, Sunghoon. And no worries, you’re just on time. Please, sit.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Oh, no, you’re working all day fixing up that house, just sit and relax. We’re very happy to have you over, aren’t we?” your mother says, sending a very obvious smile your way, which makes you furrow your eyebrows and shake your head lightly at her, silently telling her to shut up. Sunghoon chuckles at the exchange but says nothing and you want to bury yourself and your mother ten feet underground.

Sunghoon sits across from you at the dinner table, which allows you to stare unabashedly at him as he works his charm on your parents. He’s the neighbor, so technically, he’s not a boyfriend you brought home to meet them, but still, you can’t help but compare him to those few boys that you did bring home. None of them were a disaster, but none of them went as smoothly as this, either. There were always some awkward silences and dry chuckles with your past boyfriends, but Sunghoon clearly knows how to make parents happy. Maybe because he lived with his ex’s parents for so long, or maybe because he’s a parent himself. Either way, it only adds to your desire to take all of his clothes and let him rail you into next week. Too bad he clearly doesn’t feel the same way, you remind yourself with an audible sigh, which makes him look curiously at you, but you brush it off with a smile.

You watch as he accepts a beer, compliments the food and the house, talks football with your dad, accepts another beer, and shares teaching anecdotes with your mom, who herself is an elementary school teacher. You jump in every now and then when you have something witty to add or someone asks your opinion on something, but most of the time, you sit back and enjoy, happy that everything is going well. 

You bring out your infamous cherry pie that you’d baked the previous day along with some vanilla ice cream for dessert, and smile when Sunghoon tells you how much he’d been waiting to have some of it again, trying not to blush as his gaze stays focused on yours for a second too long. Thankfully, your parents don’t notice, too busy cutting themselves a slice. 

He stays for another hour or so, until the sun has set and the streetlamps and the moonlight are the only things keeping the world visible. Your mom forces him to accept tupperwares full of leftovers from the night and makes him promise to come back with his daughter. Sneakily, she tells you to help him carry the tupperwares home even though he’s more than able to do it himself, then hugs him goodbye, hurrying you out of the door.

Sunghoon hasn’t yet changed the lightbulbs to more efficient ones, so his kitchen bathes in the faint glow of the overhead lighting as you put away the leftovers in his fridge. He stands a bit to your right close behind you, closer than needed to simply hand you the tupperwares he was holding. When everything is stored, you turn around, but you’re trapped between his body and his arm that holds the fridge door open. With his free hand, he takes you by the waist and pulls you gently towards him. “Careful,” he says so quietly, it’s almost a whisper, and closes the fridge door behind you. 

He’s never been this forward with you, and even though you’ve fantasized many times about this exact moment, now that it’s really happening, you don’t know what to do except to search for an explanation in his eyes. His eyes that are looking right into yours and are a bit clouded over, from the alcohol or the proximity between the two of you or both, you don’t know, but that also have the twinkle of a smile in them. 

His lips are close enough to kiss, you think, and as if on cue, his gaze drifts down to your slightly parted lips. “You’re very pretty, Y/N,” he says, before sealing your lips with his own. You respond immediately to his kiss - you’ve thought too much about it to stand there and do nothing - but it’s all so slow and so soft that you’re not sure if it’s actually happening, so dreamlike it all feels.

You’re called back to reality when his other hand finds your waist, your own hands coming up to his shoulders before one of them snakes its way to the nape of his neck, tugging lightly at his hair. This seems to change something in Sunghoon, who all of a sudden tightens his hold on your waist, his arms wrapping around it to bring you closer to him. His kiss gets faster and deeper too, and, to your surprise but not your distaste, a bit desperate. You’re happy if you have on him half of the power he has on you. You taste sweet vanilla ice cream and tangy beer on his tongue, and it’s not at all unpleasant. It makes you want to eat cherries together so you can then taste them in his kiss. 

A lustful sigh escapes your lips and then the warmth disappears all at once. Sunghoon looks at you like you just woke him up from a deep slumber and takes a step back away from you. You call out for him worriedly and the sound of his name seems to make him think he did something terribly wrong.

“I-I’m sorry, Y/N, I don’t know what came over me. We shouldn’t do this, it’s not- I shouldn’t have done that,” he sighs, looking defeatedly at the ground.

“Why?” you ask quietly, almost inaudible.

“You should go home,” he snaps, then closes his eyes as if in pain, cringing at his harsh tone. “I’m sorry. I think you should go home, it’s getting late,” he repeats, softer this time, but the words still sting.

“O-okay,” you say to the floor, already feeling tears well up in your eyes. You feel like you just got rejected by your high school crush, and the humiliation makes you want to crawl into a hole and die. 

Sunghoon sighs again. “I’ll let you know tomorrow about the furniture shopping, yeah? Chaeryeong is coming in the morning so we can go with her.”

“O-okay,” you repeat, surprised he still wants to do that with you. “Good night, Sunghoon,” you say without looking at him and scurry out of his house.

“Good night, Y/N,” Sunghoon answers to the emptiness after you’ve left, touching his lips with the tips of his fingers and feeling the ghost of your kiss there.

—

Truth be told, you haven’t always loved cherries. Because of a heinous lie your older brother had made you believe when you were just six years old, you hadn’t eaten cherries for two summers in a row. It was the summer your parents had finally allowed you to eat cherries as they came from the trees in your backyard - beforehand, they’d been too scared that you’d choke on the pit or swallow it unknowingly, and had always prepared purées or other forms that cherries can take for you to eat, so to be finally handed the small fruit and told “go ahead, try it,” felt like an honor. 

A simple “don’t forget to spit out the pit” from your mother had sufficed for you to be careful, and yet, your brother had thought a fear tactic would be more effective. “If you swallow it, a tree will grow inside your belly and make you puke out cherries,” he’d lied when it was just the two of you at the outdoor table. 

“Really?” you asked him in disbelief, horror written all over your face as you looked at the seemingly harmless yet deadly fruit in your hand. You’d already eaten two and were in the middle of eating a third; your brother nodding ‘yes’ in response was all it took for you to spit out the cherry furiously and immediately start sobbing, afraid you’d swallowed one even though all three pits were right there on the table, a guarantee that no unwanted flora would grow inside of you. 

Your mother rushed outside at the sound of your wailing and quickly put two and two together when she saw your brother laughing uncontrollably while you hid your face in your hands, desolately imagining your future as a walking cherry tree. She held you tight in her arms as she told your brother off and reassured you that he was just playing a stupid prank on you. Still, the simple thought of swallowing a pit had terrified you and you were unable to eat cherries for the remainder of the summer and the one after that.

This is the story you tell Chaeryeong and her dad as the three of you sit outside together, making them laugh - although, a few minutes later, when Sunghoon is gone to the bathroom away, Chaer leans over the table and whispers, “It’s not true, is it?” so you reassure her that you’ve eaten cherries your whole life and have never had one single root take life in your tummy. 

It’s been a bit over a week after you shared that kiss in his kitchen, and the awkward atmosphere is just starting to fade. You’re glad he didn’t ignore you after that night, even if pretending nothing happened when both of you are very aware that something did happen is only the slightly better alternative. It’s a refreshing change from boys that sleep with you and then act like you don’t exist, for sure.

The kiss hasn’t done anything to burst the tension; if anything, it’s made it even more electric. You catch him looking at your lips more than once and you wonder why he still acts the same way as before when he’s made it very clear he didn’t think kissing you was a good idea. Catching him shirtless one night in his bedroom doesn’t help, and neither does him catching you staring at him - you’d quickly shut the curtains, but it was too late, and he’d seen you ogling his toned chest and abs.

At least, the fact that Chaeryeong is here forces a bubbly atmosphere upon you, and you hope you’re not crazy when you notice him fondly looking at the both of you interacting. Chaer is an outgoing little girl and seems to have liked you as soon as you complimented the toy puppy in her hand, saying you used to have the same and it was your favorite.

The day you went food shopping was practically hell to get through. One evening, you were holding onto Sunghoon for dear life, finally kissing him, and the next afternoon, you were browsing through the endless aisles of your local IKEA, holding his daughter’s hand and pretending like you hadn’t kissed her daddy.

When it got to the bedroom part of the store, you and Chaer decided to try all the mattresses and find the most comfortable one. You usually were never one for seating and laying on random beds in stores, but there was a kid with you, so you were sure it’d be fine. When you found the one you liked most, you looked up at Sunghoon from your position and said, “This one’s pretty good, Sunghoon.” His immediately reddening cheeks told you everything you needed to know and you quickly sat up, clearing your throat. He tested the mattress by pushing his palm against it and muttered a “yeah, it’s pretty good” before scribbling down the number of the mattress onto the small sheet of paper customers use to remember which products they wanted.

Of course, now that Chaer is with him and most of the work in the house is done, save for some minor things that Sunghoon can finish up on his own, you spend a lot less time together. You hate that you miss him so much. You miss the way he makes you feel, like your whole body is on fire with just one look or one touch, the way his stupid jokes make you laugh or how endeared he looks when he talks about his daughter. Seeing him with her only adds to your stupid crush - he’s doting, protective and caring, makes sure she has everything to be happy and manages to treat her at once like the kid that she is but also like a human that has opinions and feelings. He’s a really good dad, and that does nothing whatsoever to stop your DILF fantasies, although now, it’s really Sunghoon that you want, and the fact that he’s a dad isn’t a dealbreaker, it just makes him that much better.

You hate that you miss him, and yet being with him is somehow worse, because you can’t do any of the things you want to do. You fall asleep one two many nights dreaming about his lips and how nice it’d be to feel them again - on your lips, on your neck, everywhere. You want to feel him everywhere, and this longing lust is starting to drive you crazy. You’d never wanted anyone this much.

He invites you over for dinner one night, and the look he gives you when he opens the door sends a shiver right down your spine. “Hi, Y/N.” 

“Hi, Sunghoon.”

He leads you into the kitchen with a hand on your waist, even though you’ve been in his house many times before and need no assistance getting there. A small, horny voice at the back of your head tells you that tonight may be the night, but you quickly shut it down, not wanting to get your hopes up all on your own.

Sunghoon serves you a glass of red wine, and you ask him what the occasion is. “Just to celebrate the house being almost done,” he answers with a smile.

Dinner would have gone as usual if Sunghoon wasn’t practically staring you down the whole time, eyes full of something you can’t quite put your finger on and that drives you crazy. His gaze lingers on you every time you speak, and he punctuates the syllables of your name like he’s trying to get a feel for them on his tongue.

Your heart is pounding in your chest when the clock strikes nine p.m. and it’s time for Chaeryeong to go to bed - you don’t know if you’ll be able to handle being alone with Sunghoon, and you might have to make a run for it, Cinderella-style. 

Chaer goes to the bathroom to wash up and change into her pajamas, and when she comes back, she asks - no, demands - that you’re the one who tucks her in, and who are you to say no to the cutest little girl on Earth? She holds you by the pinky as she drags you up the stairs to her room then buries herself in her covers, tapping on the bed next to her body for you to sit there. “Okay, now we can talk without Dad around,” she says all business-like.

She tells you about the boys at her school and the birthday party she went to last week and the latest drama with her friends. The both of you are too busy chatting and giggling to hear footsteps coming up the stairs and stopping at her door, hiding behind the wall. After ten minutes, she yawns loudly and says, “Can you call Dad? I think he’ll be sad if he doesn’t wish me good night.”

“Of course,” you reply and kiss her on the forehead, wishing her a good night yourself. You’re only half-surprised to find Sunghoon at the doorway, waiting for his cue.

“Wait up for me, yeah? I’ll just be a minute,” he says, that smile still on his lips, that smile that keeps you hoping.

“Okay,” you whisper, and head downstairs, nervously taking a sip from your wine glass as you wait for him on the living room couch.

He is indeed back in a very short time, too short a time for your nerves to settle, so when he sits down close to you on the couch, body turned towards yours, you can feel your heart in your throat. He traces the rim of his glass with the tip of his pointer finger and you both watch the slow movement for a bit, a heavy silence hanging over both of your heads. You wait for him to talk because you’re too scared of what you might say if you start the conversation.

“Y/N, I’ve been thinking,” he starts shakily, “about um, our kiss, the other day-”

“Oh, we don’t need to talk about that,” you quickly interrupt, waving your hand in dismissal at him. “You made it clear you didn’t like it-”

“No, that’s the thing-”

“And that you thought it was a bad idea-”

“No, just listen-”

“So let’s just forget about it, and-”

“Y/N,” Sunghoon says in a stern voice, raising his tone just enough to make you stop in your rambling.

“Yeah?” you look up at him, eyes wide open. Expecting, as always.

“I haven’t once stopped thinking about that kiss,” he says, sounding out-of-breath. “I handled it awfully, and I’m so sorry that I made you feel like I didn’t like it, because, God, I liked it. A lot,” he chuckles. “Maybe even too much.”

There they are, the words you’ve been dying to hear. Yet all you can say is a stupid “Oh.”

“I just… I was tipsy, and Chaeryeong was coming the next morning, and I panicked. I didn’t know what to do for the rest of the week, and you didn’t say anything, so I didn’t, either. But I can’t pretend like it isn’t there.”

“Like what isn’t there?” you echo, voice almost low as a whisper.

“You know… this,” he replies, voice as low as yours. Slowly, one of his hands comes up to trace your jawline. You release a shaky breath as you set your wine glass on the coffee table and rest your hand on his knee.

“Are you sure about this? ‘Cause if you tell me that you want me… then I’ll be all yours, Sunghoon,” you murmur, hands slowly sliding up his thigh. He takes you by the wrist and puts your hand right on top of his already growing erection, letting you know exactly how he feels about you.

“God, can’t you see what you do to me? I want you so bad, Y/N,” he almost growls, and with that, his lips are on yours, trapping you into a kiss far hungrier and more ferocious than the previous kiss, your mutual intentions finally laid out in front of you for you both to see.

Sunghoon wastes no time as he grabs you by the waist and brings you to his lap, sitting you on top of his crotch so that you can feel his hardening cock against your core. The kiss turns desperate in mere seconds, and you’re relieved to see that Sunghoon seems to have been waiting for this as long and with as much ardor as you have. Your hands are fisting his hair, tugging almost harshly, while his hands roam the expanse of your back until they settle on your ass, grabbing at it to press you closer to him. You can’t stop yourself from moaning into his mouth when his erection rubs over your core in just the right way, and he takes that opportunity to add tongue to the kiss, deepening it.

You start to grind yourself against him, which he helps you do by slightly rutting his hips into yours and bringing your ass closer at every movement. Quickly, you fall into a rhythm so perfect and that feels so good, you think you might explode right then and there. Forget riding his thigh, this is infinitely better.

Needing to catch your breath, you pull away from the kiss, but your lips find his jaw immediately and you start pressing wet, needy kisses there and down his neck, sucking in some spots so that light bruises appear. “Fuck, Y/N, that feels so nice,” he breathes, eyes shut closed. His scent drives you crazy, and his small praise makes you double down on your actions, almost biting the soft skin of his neck.

As you continue kissing him there, occasionally returning to his lips for more, his hands roam your thighs and then up your back, snaking themselves under your t-shirt and finding the clasp of your bra, quickly doing away with it. He pulls away just so he can help you out of your top and takes your bra off of you, hands caressing your sides as he admires your half-naked body in all its glory. You take his hands and bring them to your chest, resting your hands on top of his as you continue grinding onto him and let him play with your boobs. “You’re so fucking hot,” he practically moans, making you chuckle. You reach for the hem of his t-shirt, because it’s only fair that you get to see him too, and you bite back a moan when he uses the absence of your hands on his to pinch your nipples lightly, then takes one in his mouth, catching you off-guard. You forget all about your plan of undressing him as his tongue flicks at the perked bud, your hands finding his hair again as you moan unabashedly. 

“S-Sunghoon,” you breathe, the combined feelings of his now fully hard cock pressing against your clothed but soaking cunt and of his warm mouth around your nipples really getting to your head and making you see stars, so that all you can say is his name. “Please,” you beg, you’re not sure what for. Mercy, perhaps. Or release.

“Please what, baby?” he asks, and the nickname goes straight to your core.

“I don’t- just, please, Sunghoon, please,” you say incoherently, making him chuckle.

“Okay,” he says as if he can read your mind, and you think he actually does when he lays you down on the couch, fingers finding the zipper of your shorts. He unbuttons them and slides them down your legs along with your soaked panties. He makes sure they’re fully off of your body before running his palms up both of your legs, from your ankles to your hips.

“Don’t tease, please,” you plead, too desperate for him to take his time.

“As you wish, princess,” he smirks, and brings a finger to your folds, sliding it down to gather some slick before pushing it inside your hole. Your back arches as an instant response to his touch and you let out a small whine, already craving for more. “Fuck, so wet, and all for me, yeah?” he questions, his eyes not once leaving your glistening pussy.

“Yes,” you breathe out, mind too fuzzy to produce a longer sentence.

“That’s a good girl,” he coos, and adds another finger, pushing all three of his knuckles in and massaging your sweet spot as soon as he finds it. When he’s found a rhythm for his motions, he finally looks up at you and curses himself for not having watched your face earlier. Head tilted back in pleasure, mouth agape as your breathing gets more and more irregular and eyebrows scrunched together, you look like the definition of sex, and it takes everything in Sunghoon to not start touching himself.

He forces himself to look away from you only to focus back on your pussy and notices your swollen clit that is begging for attention. He licks it tentatively, and when your back arches at the feeling of his tongue on you, he dives in completely, licking a stripe up your folds before wrapping his lips around the bud and sucking at it like he did with your nipples earlier. The pace at which his fingers are pumping out of you quickens and you’re pulling so hard at his hair, you think you might rip some strands off. You feel yourself getting close, and you’re reminded of all those frustrating encounters with college boys where they stopped right before you came, so you can’t stop yourself as you desperately chant “oh my God please don’t stop please don’t stop,” not even noticing the way you’re holding his head down against your clit and bucking your hips into his face.

Your orgasm hits you like a truck - this is probably the first one you’ve received from someone other than your own hand or your vibrator in the past year and a half. It takes your breath away, and you’re left gasping for air for a good thirty seconds, your mind reeling from the intensity of such pleasure. When you calm down, you lift your head to look at Sunghoon who’s already watching you with a grin on his face, your slick coating his chin and mouth.

You plop your head back down with a groan when realization hits you. “I’m sor-”

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” Sunghoon commands, hands rubbing your still-trembling thighs. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” he marvels, and you can’t help but giggle.

“Really?”

“Really.”

After another couple of seconds, you sit up on the couch and send Sunghoon a mischievous look. My turn, you think, and if his smile is any indicator then he seems to have understood. “Let me thank you,” you say, gesturing at him to sit up himself as you lower yourself to your knees on the couch in front of him.

You look up at him from between his thighs then unclasp his belt and undo his jeans. He lets out a shaky breath and says, “You don’t need to do this, you know-”

“Don’t be a gentleman, Sunghoon. I want to do this and I know you want it too. It’s pretty obvious,” you tease as you run your hand over his erection, watching in delight as his eyebrows furrow and his eyes close. “Now help me get these off of you.” He nods and raises his hips so you can take his jeans and underwear off, imitating his actions from before as you take your time to get them over his ankles and caressing his legs until they reach his crotch, watching as he takes his t-shirt off as well so that you can finally see him entirely. You’d caught glimpse of him shirtless before as he worked in his garden, but the sight still manages to take your breath away. Taut muscles and sun-tanned skin, laid bare right before you. This is what they mean by sculpted like a Greek god, you think.

You haven’t done anything, yet his head is already laid back against the top of the couch, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he gulps in expectation and chest rising visibly at every intake of breath. You must’ve saved a thousand souls in your previous life to be deserving of such an image.

You spit in your palm before taking him, starting out by slowly moving your hand up and down his shaft, then rubbing small circles against his tip, the small moan-like sighs that leave his lips letting you know you’re doing a good job. You gather some saliva in your mouth and spit on his length to add some lubricant and smirk when he lets out a low fuck. You bring your head closer and lick his balls, taking one at a time in your mouth and sucking very gently, making the volume of his moans increase. “Just like- fuck, just like that, Y/N.”

You then lick a long stripe up his cock and swirl your tongue around his tip when you reach it, humming at the taste of precum there. Sunghoon gathers your hair in a makeshift ponytail so it doesn’t get in your way, and finally looks down at you, blown away by the beautiful sight of your flushed cheeks and your mouth around his cock. He groans when you take him deeper and unconsciously bucks his hips into your throat, making you gag around him. He loves that feeling but doesn’t want to hurt you so he grabs your face and makes you look up at him, lust and worry written all over his face as he apologizes, but you quickly stop him. “It’s okay, I like it. You can do it again,” you say, and smile before wrapping your lips around him once more.

“Fuck, are you sure?” he asks and you hum, sending vibrations all over his body.

“God, o-okay,” he says, in disbelief that you’re okay with him practically fucking your throat and even liking it. And you do like it - you love letting him use your mouth to get off, just like you had earlier with him. He must have amazing core strength because he’s able to buck his hips into your mouth rapidly as he holds your head tight in his hands. The way you keep coming back for more every time he lets you breathe is enough to drive him crazy, but after a couple minutes, he stops you from taking him in your mouth again.

“I can’t- I don’t wanna cum like this,” he breathes, looking just as fucked-out as you do.

“Where, then?” you ask, kissing him all over his thighs as he trails his fingers through your hair. “Inside?”

He groans at the offer but shakes his head, eyes shut as if trying to calm himself down. “I haven’t got any condoms.”

“I’m on the pill,” you tell him, still pressing kisses on his warm skin. You’re far too desperate to feel him inside you to let a lack of condom stop you, especially when you don’t even need one.

He lets out an umpteenth shaky breath and makes you look up at him. “Are you sure?”

“Sunghoon,” you say, looking him dead in the eyes, “I’ve never been more sure of anything.” You’re relieved when he smiles and nods, bending down to trap your lips in a heated kiss for good measure. Something about being in this position, kneeling in front of his spread thighs and having to look up at him, turns you on even more.

“Okay, then,” he says, still smiling as he pulls away, holding you gently by the chin. “I don’t think I’ll be able to last long, and I want to feel you cum around me. So, tell me, what’s your favorite position, princess?”

The question takes you aback but you answer it anyway, looking at the ground. “Reverse cowgirl…” you admit shyly, a small smile spreading on your lips.

“Reverse cowgirl, huh?” Sunghoon repeats, and you don’t need to look at him to know he’s smirking. “Come here, then,” he says, and helps you up, making you turn around so your back faces him and seats you down on top of him, keeping your hips raised. He takes his cock inside his hands, pumps it a few more times before guiding it to your entrance, pressing kisses to your shoulders and nape to make you relax. 

You moan at the simple feeling of his tip teasing your entrance and Sunghoon whispers “I know, baby” against your skin. “Sit down for me,” he commands gently, and you oblige, lowering your hips slowly to feel all of him stretching you out, the both of you moaning in synchronization when he bottoms out.

Sunghoon wraps an arm around your middle and pulls you onto him so that your back rests against his chest and you can let your head hang back next to his. “Let me do all the work, yeah?” he murmurs into your ear, and you hum in response. He doesn’t move for a bit, roaming his large hands all over your body until he feels your walls relax around him. One of his hands finds your breasts, playing with each nipple in turn, while the other finds your clit. It’s all so much but so good that you’re already a moaning mess before he’s even started moving. “Ready?” he asks, but you’re too far gone to answer.

His pace starts out slow, but you’re impatient and whine as you try to move your hips against his to go faster, which makes him tut. “I told you I’d do the work, didn’t I?” he asks, pinching one of your nipples in reprimand. “So be good for me and stay still, Y/N. I promise I’ll make you feel good.” You whine again but stop moving, heeding his words.

“Perfect,” he whispers and kisses your neck before picking up the pace, shushing you when your moans get too loud.

“I’m sorry, just feels too good,” you manage to let out.

“I know, but you need to stay quiet, baby,” he says, yet gets rougher with his thrusts, which does not help in the slightest. His hand that was on your breasts comes up to cover your mouth, but he quickly decides to make you suck on two of his fingers instead, muffling your moans a bit.

His fingers on your clit haven’t relented this whole time and after just a few minutes, you feel that familiar knot tying itself again in your stomach and you know you’re mere moments away from it coming undone. Judging by his rapid but clumsy thrusts, Sunghoon must be close too. He pounds into you like you’ve been wanting him to ever since you first set eyes on him as he entered the hardware store, hitting your g-spot over and over again. Tears roll down your cheeks and you whimper around his fingers, biting down on them as your second orgasm hits you.

You’re practically sobbing as he helps you ride out your high, his movements sending your body into pleasant overstimulation until he reaches his high too, the feeling of your pussy clenching tightly around him pushing him over the edge. Ropes of his semen paint your walls white, and there’s enough of it for him to become a father of two. You whine as he pulls away, and feel his cum slipping out of you and onto the couch underneath you. Before you can catch your breath, he asks, “Baby, can I do something very dirty?” and you nod without thinking much. This man could do anything he wanted to you, and you’d thank him for it.

He settles you back down onto the couch, kneels on the floor, head level with your core, and sticks his tongue inside your hole, making you yelp in surprise and overstimulation. You don’t understand what he’s doing until he comes back up and makes you open your mouth with his thumb, then spits inside it, telling you to swallow. You do as he says and taste his cum, laughing in disbelief at what he just did - and at how much you liked it. “Fuck,” you giggle.

“Was that too much?” 

“God, no,” you say, and he smiles. You open your arms, gesturing for him to get back on the couch. He rests his head between your breasts, the both of you sighing in contentment as he rubs small circles on your belly and you graze your fingers through his hair. He’s so silent that you think he’s fallen asleep, but he speaks up after a while, voice soft and calm like you’ve never heard before.

“We should go get cleaned up…” he says, and you hum in agreement, “...but it’s so nice here,” he finishes, making you giggle.

“If we get cleaned up quickly now, we can cuddle in bed right afterwards,” you argue.

“You’re right. Infallible logic. You’re so smart, you know that, Y/N?” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Of course I know that,” you joke. “Let’s go,” you say, kissing the top of his head.

You take a shower together, cleaning each other and leaving kisses here and there, or touching in places you shouldn’t touch and that maybe lead to more, right there in the shower. Now that you’ve had a taste, you’re insatiable, and you warn Sunghoon that the both of you are in for a very long night, to which he answers that he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Once you do fall asleep, (which isn’t until two rounds later, and you’re surprised either of you have this much energy), however, you’re holding each other tightly, the fan on high so that you don’t feel all sticky, being so close to each other. Even if you wake up here and there because he shuffled or he snored too loudly, it’s one of the best sleeps you’ve ever had.

—

You wake up the next morning by small giggles and snorts that come from none other than Park Chaeryeong herself, who’s buried herself between you and her dad, shaking her body to wake the two of you. You’re glad that you listened to Sunghoon when he told you to put on a t-shirt of his as well as some underwear so neither you or Chaer would have a fright when she came and woke you up as she liked to do every morning. “You had a sleepover!” she exclaims excitedly when she sees you’ve finally opened your eyes, looking at her with a sleepy expression and a smile.

“We did!” you reply, trying to keep the same level of excitement.

“We did,” Sunghoon repeats, taking his daughter in her arms to hug her tightly and blows a raspberry in her neck to make her laugh.

“You didn’t invite me!” she shrieks when her dad’s left her alone.

“Sorry, sweetheart. It was just me and Y/N.”

“No fun,” she pouts, laying on her back and crossing over arms before turning back to her dad. “So, is Y/N my new mom?” she whispers even though you’re right there. You gasp at her question, making wide eyes at Sunghoon who just snorts, and you can’t tell if she’s genuinely asking or if she’s an eight-year-old with an advanced sense of irony.

“Of course not. Is Heeseung your new dad?” he asks, mentioning his ex’s new boyfriend. Chaer shakes her head.

“No. He’s Mommy’s boyfriend.”

“Exactly, and Y/N is Daddy’s girlfriend. Isn’t she?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you, smirking.

“She is,” you reply, and Chaer turns back to you, giggling. She snuggles close to you, wrapping an arm around your middle, and you’re taken aback by the sheer cuteness of it all. You look at Sunghoon with a fake pained expression, and he smiles endearingly at the two of you before sighing and joining you in your hug. He rests his arms around you and his daughter, kissing the top of your heads in turn. 

“My girls,” he mutters in your hair, and you smile peacefully.

There’s a lot of things you have to talk about with Sunghoon. You know your parents - especially your mom - will be okay with the two of you together, but will his parents be? And once semester starts again, what will happen? You’ll have to go back to campus and he’ll have to stay here - will a three-hour drive be a dealbreaker, or will you make it work?

The thing is, there’s no point in thinking about all of this at this moment. You’ve got the whole summer to figure things out. For now, you’ll eat cherries and spit out the pits, and everything will be perfect.

this is a one shot, there will not be a part two!

permanent taglist: @k-ingzo @bbujiikseu @sunghoonmybeloved @lalalalawon @sd211 @w3bqrl @raikea10 @wntrnghts (ask to be removed/added!)

© asahicore on tumblr, 2023. please do not repost, translate or plagiarize my works. feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

[moonstruckme]

Okay I’ve been thinking of request ideas for Thawing Out all day while I was at work 😂 What about if something happened with her on the way to practice (nothing serious but maybe it shook her up a bit) and she was late and clearly acting off? Obviously her boys are going to notice…

Love you as always, hope you’re doing amazing! 💖💖💖

Thank you Amber my love!!! Hope you like it <3

collab with @ellecdc

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7

cw: modern au, chronic pain, mention of harassment

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1.6k words

You come into the rink with quick, determined steps, blitzing past every door in your path until you get to the bleachers. Sirius is already on the ice, Remus leaned against the boards while he watches. Both boys turn when you sit down. 

“Hello,” Sirius calls, clearly chuffed to have you here as a buffer between him and your bristly coach. “Where’s my latte?”

“No time today,” you say back. You jam your foot into a skate. 

Remus gives you a scrutinous look. “You alright?”

“Fine. Sorry I’m late.” 

You get your skates on in record time, laced up tight enough to hurt. Sirius is ready for you in your starting position, his hands firm on your shoulders. He gives a little squeeze, meant to coax a smile out of you, but you’re in no mood. 

“I was just fucking with you about the latte,” he says lowly. “I don’t need it to get through practice, though he has been especially insufferable this morning.” 

You glance at Remus. He looks the same as always, half relaxed and half watchful. He and Sirius have fallen into a routine of petty spats that you suspect don’t exactly make him look forward to practice every morning, and yet he seems to be getting used to the both of you. He’s less curt than he had been during your first few days together. 

“You only say that because you were here alone with him,” you say. 

“It didn’t help. Without you here he’s in his most unfiltered, fogey form.” 

Your skating is as near to flawless as it’s been in weeks. You throw yourself into each jump with everything you have, using the hot emotions simmering beneath your skin to your advantage. And it works. Remus looks caught offguard but directs several nods of approval your way, whereas Sirius is all untempered joy. His grin widens with each flawless landing, and when you finish your most difficult move in the routine he actually whoops. You think you see Remus’ lips twitch at that. 

“There she is!” Sirius grips your hand, squeezing tight as you go into a synchronized arabesque. His hair is pulled back into a bun, but a couple of loose pieces flutter around his face as he skates backwards. He looks so happy for you, and some of that tight feeling you’ve been carrying around all morning dissipates. You smile back at him. 

You both go into a lutz. It’s a jump you’ve done half a million times. It should be a given, perfect every time. And yet you catch your mistake in midair. 

You land on your hands and knees. 

You pant a couple of times, and your next breath scrapes on the way in. Tears press at your eyes horrifyingly fast, like they’ve only been waiting for their chance. You press your nose to the ice. 

Skates hiss until they’re next to you, Sirius’ hand on your back. 

“What’s wrong? What happened?” 

You shake your head, humiliated by your fall and even more so by this fracturing, how easily it came on. You feel pathetic. 

“Where is it?” Sirius’ voice climbs, growing shrill with panic. “Let me see. How bad is it?” 

He’s trying to sit you up, hands cold and gentle and frantic, but his touch stills when a warmer one meets your shoulder. 

“Are you hurt?” Remus asks. 

“No.” You finally find your voice, but it’s pitchy and awful. “I’m sorry.” 

“Fuck. Fucking hell.” In the next second you’re smushed against Sirius, who hugs you tight as soon as he knows he doesn’t have to be delicate with you. “You scared the shit out of me.” 

“I’m sorry.” Your face feels hotter than hot in the cold rink. You push into your eyes with your fingertips. “God, what the fuck! I thought I fixed it. I don’t understand why this is still happening.” 

You’re sobbing now, tiny explosions that start in your chest and ricochet all the way through you, but fuming all the same. 

“You were both right, I’m holding myself back. I thought I could stop, but it just keeps happening, and I can’t do this. I’m so incompetent I can’t even do a fucking lutz. We need to find Sirius a new partner. I can’t hold us back anymore, I—” 

“Hey.” 

Remus’ voice is harsh, but not as harsh as Sirius’ grip on you turns at the sound of it. Your partner’s face goes sharp and cruel in an instant, an animal bearing its teeth. 

Remus pays him no mind. He keeps his eyes on yours, firm and unrelenting. “Don’t speak about yourself that way,” he says. 

You feel Sirius’ hold slacken in surprise. 

Another tear trudges down your face, and Remus’ expression gentles. “Everyone falls,” he tells you. “You have been improving, faster than I thought was possible, but you can’t expect it to happen all at once. You’re still going to fall sometimes. It’s alright. We’re working on it, yeah?” 

You sniff, wiping underneath your eyes. “Yeah,” you squeak out. “Sorry.” 

“You don’t need to be sorry. Just give yourself some grace, yeah?” His lips press together in a little grimace that’s likely meant to be a smile. “It’s my job to be hard on you, not yours. You’re allowed to fuck up. It doesn’t make you incompetent, or unworthy of competing with Sirius. You are the best person to be his partner. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be here, understand?” 

“Yeah.” You take a deep breath in. “Thank you.” It stutters a bit on the way out, catching on another tiny sob you can’t help. This one comes from a place of relief, but Sirius’ cold fingers dig into your arm anyway and Remus’ brows twitch slightly as though it hurts him, too. 

“No problem,” he says softly. “Are you sure you haven’t hurt yourself?” 

You nod, closing your eyes to will yourself calmer. 

“Good. Do you want to leave off early today?” 

You swallow and start to stand. “No. I’m okay.” 

“No.” Sirius’ voice is bemused enough to sound like a question. He rises beside you, looking at you like he’s trying to puzzle you out. “No, something’s up with you today. We should stop.” 

Remus seems to go along with him, starting back towards the opening in the boards, and you think wryly that if one good thing comes from all this it might be those two finally starting to get along. You also realize for the first time that Remus is out here with you on the ice. It’s the first time you’ve seen him so much as think about coming off of the bleachers, even if he is only in regular shoes and leaning heavily on his good hip as he makes his way back towards them. 

“I’m okay,” you repeat to Sirius. 

He shakes his head. “You’ve been weird since you got here. What happened?”

“Nothing happened.” 

“Something did.” 

You push out a frustrated breath. “Nothing relevant.” 

“But something did happen.” 

He’s steering you towards the exit now. It feels petulant to rip away and stay on the ice even if no one else will, though that’s what you’d really like to do. 

“Are you actively trying to piss me off?” you ask him. 

Sirius shrugs, stepping onto the floor. “If that’s what’s going to work. I only want to know what got you so upset.” 

“Nothing.” 

“Here we are again. Back to ‘nothing.’” 

Remus is watching you both like you’re a show his TV has randomly flipped to. Tentative of where he stands, but definitely entertained. 

You hate that this has become such a big thing. “It’s really nothing,” you say, planting yourself on the bench with a force that perhaps belies your claim. “It was just some git on the way here this morning.” 

Sirius’ eyebrows go up while Remus’ come down. 

“And what did this git have to say to you?” Sirius asks. 

You sigh, starting to unlace your skates since apparently practice is over. “It’s not what he said. He only asked me out, which is fine, but then he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He, like, grabbed onto my arm and wouldn’t let go for a bit.” 

Sirius’ expression goes stormy. It’s almost as bad as the look he’d given Remus earlier, only without a target to be directed at. “Are you fucking joking?” 

“It was fine,” you say. “I made it here, didn’t I? It just freaked me out a little. And pissed me off.” 

“Yeah, you should be pissed!” Sirius starts pacing, mindless of the indents his blades are putting into the rubber flooring. “Who does that? Did he think—what, you were just going to have to go out with him if he took you captive?” 

“I don’t know.” You give him a dead-eyed stare. “I didn’t ask him.” 

“God, you should be able to walk to fucking practice in the morning without being accosted by—by some—”

“Do you need someone to walk with you in the mornings?” Remus seems uninterested in waiting to hear what creative insult Sirius comes up with for the git. He looks at you steadily, his jaw tight but ready to accept whatever answer you give him. 

“No,” you say. “Like I said, it was really nothing.” 

“It upset you,” he says matter-of-factly. “That’s not nothing.” 

“I can walk you.” Sirius plonks down beside you on the bench, seeming to have come to a decision. “Just wait for me inside tomorrow morning, and I’ll come pick you up.” 

You can’t help but smile at that. “If I leave it to you, we’ll never get here. There’ll never be another morning practice again.” Remus’ tongue pokes into his cheek like he’s repressing a grin. 

“Wha—so little faith!” Sirius sputters, straightening before he’s so much as touched his laces. “I’ll be there, okay? We will be needing to pick up my coffee on the way here, though.” 

You give him a skeptical look. “You realize I wake up a half hour earlier to have time to get those?” 

“Fucking hell! Do you really?”

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Finally Getting Help (prt 16)

Masterpost

Sorry for the delay on this part! And there might be more to come, I thought of a new AU that's devouring my brain XD I'll still be working on this it's just going to be slightly slower.

-----------

Jason sat next to Danny, holding his limp hand as Bruce flew them back to the cave and landed gently. “Do we have a way to contact Frostbite?” Jason asked as they wheeled Danny into the Cave’s med bay.

“Yes, as long as Constantine isn’t too drunk,” Batman said dryly. 

“If he is, I'll sober him up real quick,” Jason responded just as dryly. Batman chuffed out a soft laugh before pulling out his Justice League communicator and called Constantine. 

After hearing Constantine was on his way, and grabbing a domino mask, Jason tuned out the conversation, returning to Danny’s side, taking his hand again. Jason jolted slightly when Danny’s fingers twitched and curled slightly around his own. 

“Danny?” He asked softly, leaning over his boyfriend.

Danny’s brow pinched just a little and then he opened his eye, squinting up at Jason. He held his breath as Danny blinked and looked around before letting out a soft groan and closed his eyes tightly for a moment. 

“Hey, how do you feel,” Jason asked softly as Bruce finished the call and hustled over to check Danny’s vitals. 

“Thirsty, like I was hit by a bus,” Danny croaked but there was a flicker of a smile around his mouth. “Where are we?”

“I’ll get you some water,” Jason said, squeezing Danny’s hand before hurrying to grab a water bottle. 

“You’re in the bat-cave, you passed out after the fight. We’ve gotten in contact with Frostbite, he should be here soon.” Batman told Danny, as soft as he ever was behind the mask. 

“I passed out huh?” Danny sighed, pushing himself up with a soft groan and accepted the bottle of water from Jason once he’d opened it for Danny. He drank deeply and sighed with relief. “Frostbite doesn’t need to come though, I almost always pass out after using my wail, and twice in one night? I must have conked out for a bit longer than usual, nothing to worry about really.” 

“We’d still feel better having you looked over,” Bruce said just as gently 

“Yep, and hey, while he’s here maybe he can look me over too. We talked about me having an appointment with him,” Jason pointed out. He knew that Danny would feel better if it wasn’t just for him.

As Jason sort of suspected he would, Danny paused, then sighed and nodded, laying back down on the gurney with a little groan. Fine,” He sighed softly, handing the bottle back to Jason who set it aside for Danny. “What happened to Vlad?” 

“He got away,” Bruce said with a sigh. “Spoiler, Blackbat, and Red Robin are still looking for him but so far without success.” Bruce said with a frustrated set to his jaw.

“I hope they’re being careful. I’m sorry, I should have guessed he would be tracking me. You’re not hurt, are you?” He asked, looking at Jason worriedly. 

“I’m completely fine. And they will be too, they’re tough and they have the tech you build for them,” Jason promised Danny with a reassuring little smile. 

“I hope so,” Danny groaned. “God Vlad is such a bastard.”

A green portal opened in the middle of the Bat-cave and a giant yeti like ghost came charging out with a very frazzled looking John Constantine on his heels. “Is the Great One alright?!” The yeti asked worriedly. 

“Ya Frostbite I’m fine,” Danny promised, sitting up again and giving him a little smile. “I just overused my powers again.” Danny didn’t seem surprised when Frostbite came charging over and scooped him up in a tight enough hug that it made Danny wheeze. Jason and Bruce got out of the way and gave Constantine a curious look, he gave them a helpless shrug. “But I still need to breathe,” He gasped and Frostbite quickly put him down again, apologizing all the while. 

“I’m glad you are alright! But it’s about time for a check up for you and the little ones anyway,” Frostbite said warmly before suddenly noticing Batman and Jason, he had been too sign mindedly focused on Danny previously. “Oh! Hello,” He greeted brightly. 

“Frostbite, this is my new guardian Batman, and my boyfriend Jason,” Danny said, using his civilian name since Jason wasn’t in costume. 

“Ah! Wonderful to meet you!” Frostbite said, offering his big hand for Bruce to shake, who accepted, and tried not to seem taken aback by just how enthusiastically Frostbite shook it. He nearly lifted Bruce off the ground! At least when Jason’s turn came he was prepared. “It’s good to know he’s finally away from the Fenton’s, they were terrible guardians. He and the little ones will be safe with you, yes?” There was a hint of a warning in his voice and the temperature dropped a few degrees.

“Yes, of course,” Batman said firmly. “I will do my best to protect them and provide a safe environment.”

Frostbite nodded and looked at Jason.

“I’ll do my best to make him happy,” Jason said a little lamely, but Frostbite seemed to accept it. 

“Excellent!” Frostbite said brightly again and turned back to Danny. 

“Once we’re done can you have a look at Jason?” Danny asked Frostbite. “He died too, and has had some trouble since coming back.”

“Of course, Great One. But we will be giving You a thorough check up first,” Frostbite insisted. Danny gave a resigned sigh and nodded.

Danny sat back down on the cot and let Frostbite examine him. Since neither objected to Bruce and Jason’s presence so they both stayed to watch, and support Danny if he needed it. Constantine wandered off, he wasn’t part of the family after all, this was none of his business. 

The check-up was… odd, it mostly consisted of Frostbite waving his hands around Danny, occasionally touching very deliberate places, while asking him questions about how he was feeling, physically and emotionally, and what had happened. He touched the center of Danny’s forehead, his chest, every time he did little waves of blue light went through Danny. The one over Danny’s stomach made him gasp softly and Frostbite frowned at him, Danny smiled back sheepishly. 

“Can you show me your core?” Frostbite asked, pulling back.

Danny nodded and reached into his own chest, something Jason would never get used to seeing, and drew out his core. Jason hadn’t seen it before, he thought it was absolutely beautiful, the most perfect sapphire he’d ever seen, glowing silver blue with an opalescent sheen, it looked like a miniature planet, like it might contain an entire world.

Batman had seen it before, and he knew that it looked significantly dimmer then it had been the first time Danny had showed it to him. That was… concerning. Frostbite seemed to think so too by the way he was frowning at Danny. He pulled out some sort of souped up magnifying glass from somewhere and started to examine Danny’s core, though he didn’t once touch it. 

“There are no cracks or chips, you simply overused your powers,” Frostbite said, putting away the magnifying glass and gesturing for Danny to put away his core. “I’m surprised honestly, for most leaving your Fraid and your haunt like you did would have caused far more damage. It’s testament to how well your current caretakers are looking after you that you’ve weathered the transition so well.

“I wouldn’t try to use your powers for about a week to let your ectoplasm regenerate. There’s significantly less here then there was in Amity Park, there’s still plenty to sustain you but you’ll need to ration it’s use a little bit to have enough for you and the little ones to develop properly.” Frostbite said with a definitive nod. 

“I will, if I can,” He promised, looking down. “I wasn’t exactly expecting to be attacked this time. What happens if I Do overuse my powers too much?” Danny asked, glancing up at his Doctor.

“Well-” Frostbite started and then stopped himself, looking down at Danny consideringly. “I’m not entirely sure. With a regular ghost the child would either take significantly longer to form properly, or the parent might even retreat into their own core and lose the baby. But you are still living, and the babies have flesh forms as well, yes?” Danny nodded and Frostbite tilted his head slightly. “It’s… possible that even if you deplete yourself you and the babies will be alright, your ghost form would retreat and you and the babies will be, for all intents and purposes, fully human for a time. But I would not test that! There are too many ways it could go wrong.”

“Oh I don’t want to test it,” Danny said with a wry smile and a shake of his head. “Like you said, it’s kind of amazing my core is in as good shape as it is with all the changes lately, and if it broke it would End me, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes,” Frostbite said ruefully, patting Danny’s shoulder sympathetically “But let's not focus on that! You and the babies are doing well! here , drink this,” He produced a little vile of a viscous glowing green liquid and patted Danny’s shoulder, which was apparently his queue to hop off the cot. He drank the liquid like a shot and handed the vile back to Frostbite who stowed it back in whatever liminal space he’d been pulling all of these things from. 

“Are you ready?” Danny asked Jason. Resting a hand on his arm. Oh right, Jason had almost forgot he was going to be getting a check-up too. 

“Ya, sure,” Jason agreed with a sharp nod. He was nervous, seeing Danny’s interactions with Frostbite had put some of it at ease but he was still a bit scared about what Frostbite would find. 

“Can I hold your hand?” Danny asked, knowing Jason needed it, but wouldn’t ask. Jason nodded again and went to sit on the cot like Danny had. Danny stayed next to him and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. 

“Alright! What seems to be the trouble?” Frostbite asked Jason, warm and sympathetic. 

“Well, I died a while ago. I came back and we don’t totally know why, I went through some shit, got dunked in stuff we call Lazarus Water, which heals the sick and kills the healthy, and occasionally resurrects people. And I’ve been having issues ever since. I can’t control my emotions well, I have violent outbursts and dissociative episodes, I do things without knowing I am, or remembering it sometimes?” Jason said, glancing at Danny who gave him an encouraging smile. “None of this happened before I died and came back, I really don’t think it’s trauma either. Danny confirmed there was something wrong.”

Frostbite hummed and looked back at Danny, who nodded. “I did, I mean, I don’t really know what I was looking at but it did feel… off,” He said with a helpless little shrug.

“Alright, I’ll have a look,” Frostbite agreed and gently rested a clawed finger against Jason’s forehead. Cols rushed down over him, not refreshing cool water like it had been with Danny but freezing cold. It made Jason gasp and tense but he refused to pull away. Slowly a frown formed on the ghost doctor's face and he tutted. Well that was a bad sign. 

“Frostbite,” Danny said, a warning tone in his voice.

“Ah! My apologies! It’s nothing as bad as what you might think! I haven’t seen something like this in a very long time. Granted I rarely have occasion to tend to mortals but…” He trailed off and pulled back, the feeling of ice against Jason’s skin vanished. “Your resurrection was botched. You are alive, but it’s not…” Frostbite seemed to think about the best way to explain this. 

“Your soul was never given the chance to enter your body properly. I would guess when you ‘came back’ it was as an undead rather than a truly living person. Then the Lazarus Water resurrected your body and bound your soul back to your body, the way that it had previously been, which was not entirely… inside your body. 

“You’re soul and your body are not quite one being. It’s like a bone that broke and was not set before healing properly, it created some… spiritual nerve damage.” He saw Jason’s look of confusion and sighed. “I’m sorry, this is hard to explain to the living.”

“So, that’s causing all my issues?” Jason asked hesitantly. 

“Yes and no, it also seems to have damaged your ability to process the lingering ectoplasm from your ghost, and the Lazarus Water, which seems to be a corrupted ectoplasm. I suspect those are causing the emotional outbursts,” He said. “I’d need a sample of Lazarus Water to confirm that.” 

“I can get you that,” Bruce rumbled. “So, how can we fix this?” He asked, always blunt and to the point. 

“It’s not that simple. How would you fix a bone that healed wrong?” Frostbite asked.

“In a lot of cases… you have to break it again,” Jason said with a wince. 

“Yes, now we will Not do that, killing and resurrecting you again with the hopes it would be correct this time is far too risky. I mean to say with how set your soul is in its current position this is going to be a very long process with an unclear prognosis. I suspect just spending time around the Great One will help,” Frostbite said, gesturing at Danny. “Infusions of uncorrupted ectoplasm will hopefully clear out the corrupted stuff and ease the emotional issues. It may also strengthen your soul which, as long as you are at peace inside yourself, will help it settle back into its proper place. 

“You should know that it is possible that if you are entirely at odds with yourself, strengthening your soul might have the opposite effect of allowing it to pull even further away from your body. Managing your support system and obsessions will be crucial to recovery. Phantom can help you with that as well, he has more experience,” Frostbite said gently. “It’s important to remember that most ailments of the soul have an emotional element to them, and not try to find fast and easy fixes that will make things worse in the long run.” 

“I understand,” Jason said numbly. He really had been hoping there would be some clear easy fix. 

Danny squeezed Jason’s hand and Jason looked at him and was greeted by a warm smile. “The important thing to remember is we know what’s wrong now, and that things can get better. You’re already on the right track reconnecting with family and being with me.”

Jason took a deep breath and nodded, Danny was right. This had been going on for years now, nothing had really changed just because he knew. It wasn’t like he was getting diagnosed with something terminal. “Right,” Jason agreed with a nod and took a deep breath, shaking his head and rolling his shoulders. “Right, thanks Frostbite.”

“It’s my pleasure! I’ll supply Phantom with the pure ectoplasm, he knows how to administer it well enough. I shall come check up on both of you again in a month’s time, but I should be going now!” Frostbite said, hugging Danny again tightly before wandering off, muttering about wondering where that magician got off to.

[captain-barnes-writes]

Summer break (Charles Leclerc)

Summary: Charles Leclerc and his girlfriend enjoy making the grid uncomfortable with their PDA on Instagram.

Type: insta au

Pairing: Charles leclerc x fem!reader

Warning: sexual innuendos, the grid being traumatized by them (I love them and their commentary) 🤣

————

Liked by DanielRicciardo, CarlosSainz55, LewisHamilton and others

LandoNorris Looking forward to summer break! Just not looking forward to the atrocities @ charlesleclerc and @ yourusername got in store for us these next few weeks 😓🥱

comments

CarlosSainz55 Agreed 🤐

DanielRicciardo Scrolling through insta is gonna be stressful

MaxVerstappen1 ^^ 😥

PierreGasly I’m staying out of insta for a while

LewisHamilton I think last summer’s posts left all of us scarred 😾

YourUsername leave us alone!! We love each other

LandoNorris Keep it pg!

CharlesLeclerc no 😐

EstebanOcon let’s hope it’s not as bad as last summer

YourUsername 🥱

User not the whole grid ganging up on them lmao

User they can’t keep their hands off each other

User I love that about them 😭

User you know it’s bad when even max comments

————

YourUsername posted a story

Replies

MaxVerstappen1 please no

YourUsername 😡

LandoNorris we’re not ready

YourUsername you started this 😶

CharlesLeclerc I love making people feel uncomfortable😏

YourUsername Babe you’re sitting right next to me

PierreGasly off to taint another place 🤢

YourUsername so are you and kika my friend 🙃

PierreGasly true

————

Liked by LewisHamilton, PierreGasly, YourUsername and others

Tagged YourUsername

CharlesLeclerc I could watch her all day 🤤

Comments

YourUsername bikinis all day with you baby 🫶

CharlesLeclerc or none at all 😏

DanielRicciardo noooo it has begun!

LandoNorris 24 hours haven’t even passed yet 😭

EstebanOcon I think this summer is gonna be the worst

PierreGasly I hope your phones fall in the water

CharlesLeclerc Thanks Gasly

PierreGasly you’re welcome mate 😉

GeorgeRussell God help us all

User I’ve been waiting for this lol

User ready to see the grid feel uncomfortable 🤠

————

Liked by CarlosSainz55, GeorgeRussell, CharlesLeclerc and others

Tagged CharlesLeclerc

YourUsername my two favorite things to eat 😼

Comments

DanielRicciardo no

DanielRicciardo stop

LandoNorris I’m sure they have worse things in store for us 🤧

YourUsername you’re right 😏

LanceStroll that’s cannibalism

CharlesLeclerc she’s my little cannibal 👀

LanceStroll 🫤

ScuderiaFerrari 😳

User she’s so well fed

User she eats good everyday im so jealous

User same ^^

User they have no filter lmao

————

Liked by CharlesLeclerc, LanceStroll, DanielRicciardo and others

Tagged CharlesLeclerc

YourUsername I’m sorry @ scuderiaferrari I’m never letting him off this yacht 🤤 Can’t get enough of him👅💦💦

Comments

ScuderiaFerrari Don’t do this to us 😭

YourUsername I’m sorry in advance :)

User not Ferrari begging her to give their driver back lmaooo

CharlesLeclerc 😳

CarlosSainz55 this would’ve been a perfectly fine post without the caption

CharlesLeclerc it’s a perfectly fine caption 🤨

GeorgeRussell that’s considered kidnapping

YourUsername That’s not what he says ;)

DanielRicciardo this was cute until the caption

ScuderiaFerrari agreed 👀

LanceStroll why the tongue emoji out of all emojis seriously??

CharlesLeclerc you know why 😼

LanceStroll I’m logging out

EstebanOcon and to think we’re not even a week into summer 😖

User Ferrari is calm on the gram but they’re probably planning to press charges on the low lol

User 🤣

User her captions always cause chaos omg

User our chaotic queen

———————

This was fun to make lol probably a second part coming soon! I love me a chaotic inappropriate couple 🤣

Inspired by filth by fxxkemall 🫶 but in Charles form lol

[bitterspoons]

For once, I thought it was me.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Soulmate au where you can hear the songs your soulmate is listening to. Fred asks your best friend—Angelina—to the ball thinking she's his soulmate.

use of y/n

Warnings: Angst and just a lil' fluff

Word Count:

part one / part two coming soon

A/N: of course the first thing I write is a soulmate au 😭—it's fine and I hope you like it.

"Angelina!" Y/n calls, running over to the Gryffindor table—almost tripping over her feet before placing a hand on Angelina's shoulder.

"Yes?" Angelina looked up from her conversation with the Weasley twins and smiled at her best friend. The Great Hall was bustling with noise.

Y/n panted, catching her breath as she fixed her hair. "Sorry—I just—I ran—oh god I'm dying—" Y/n tried to catch her breath before waving her hand at the twins. "Give me a second—continue your conversation..."

Angelina chuckled before turning back to George and Fred. "This is my friend, Y/n." Angelina introduced. "She's in Hufflepuff so I doubt you would've met her."

Y/n waved, stealing some of Angelina's water.

"Why haven't you invited her to some of our parties?" George asked, batting his eyes. "It would've been nice, seeing a pretty face more often."

Angelina rolled her eyes at the flirt, making space next to her for Y/n. "Yeah, I've asked her but she's not a huge fan of social events." She explained. "It's a miracle she's even in the Great Hall—why aren't you with Willow?"

"Oh, I wanted to know if you wanted to hang out after Divination. Turns out my detention with Professor Sprout is cancelled!" The Hufflepuff said happily, still a bit red from George's flattering.

"Hell yeah!" Angelina cheered. "I told you she loves you."

Y/n smiled. "Yeah but turning her favorite plant into a pair of heels is pushing the line."

Fred cackled. "Y/n, You did what?!"

In her head, a symphony sounded. Him just saying her name sounded like an orchestra.

Pops of warmths fidgeted around her. She had always had a crush on the Weasley, and she never really knew when it happened. She hasn't told a soul and she never would. It was just— he always seemed so happy. She had made him happy, she made him laugh.

Y/n beamed as she explained how she had gotten too caught up with her conversation with Angelina about what shoes to wear for the Yule Ball, she had completely forgotten about the spell she was casting.

"Little Chéri's a troublemaker huh?" Fred teased, scrunching up his nose.

"Chéri?!" Angelina cackled—not a fan of pet names in the slightest.

George grumbled. "Fred has been learning French so he can impress girls."

Y/n laughed, taking a sip of Angelina's water again. "I think it's cute." She bit the tip of her thumbs, an old habit of hers.

"Ever the hopeless romantic, Y/n." Angelina commented, stealing her drink back.

The four engaged in conversation until a Slytherin tapped on Y/n's shoulder. "Uh—Y/n, I think I have a fitting right now." She said awkwardly, getting glares from the Gryffindors.

"Oh!" Y/n shot up, grabbing the last strawberry off of Angelina's plate before grabbing Angelina's pen—sticking it behind her ear—and running off, dragging the Slytherin with her.

"Hey!" Angelina protested, grumbling as she bit into her toast.

"What was that about?" Fred asked, battling Ron for the last corndog.

"Huh? Oh—Y/n and I are helping organise the Ball." Angelina explained, not seeing how Fred watched her run her fingers through her hair as she grabbed another pen to do her Potions Homework. "She's helping make and tailor people's outfits."

"Y/n?" Hermione clarified, popping into the conversation. "She's ridiculously talented, she made the dress I'm wearing!"

"She made adjustments on mine!" Angelina looked at Hermione. "I didn't like how bland my dress was, so she helped bedazzled it."

"Do you think she can fix Fred's dress?" George asked, earning a punch from Fred. "Ow! No seriously though, his tie is all wonky and his pants go way past his feet. Poor bloke's gonna trip!"

Angelina laughed, packing her stuff away and slinging her bag over her shoulder. "Find out yourself! I have to go check up on the Frog Choir."

Just a couple minutes later, Fred heard oddly croaky choruses from his soulmate.

●●●

Fred was trying to go the sleep that night, but all he could hear was stupid music.

When he couldn't decipher whether he was hearing it through his soulmate or if he was hearing it in the common room, he shoved his slippers on and slowly went down stairs.

As he peeked his head around the corner, he saw Angelina dancing with somebody—a CD player in the background as they laughed.

It was the same music playing in his head...Is Angelina—actually his soulmate?

He watched Angelina dance with her friend, practicing their dance for the ball before slowly going back upstairs.

Y/n and Angelina fell the floor in a heap, almost crying of laughter as Angelina stepped on Y/n's foot and then went crashing to the floor.

"So, are you planning on asking your mystery crush to the ball?" Angelina asked, rolling onto her stomach and popping the CD out.

Angelina didn't have a clue about her crush on one of the Weasley twins. Y/n refused to tell her, but she did give vague details about why she liked him so much.

"You think I have time for that?" Y/n questioned, brushing her hair. "Even if I did have the time to ask him, he's probably not even my soulmate."

"Who cares?" Angelina asked, exasperated.

Angelina was one of the people who couldn't hear music from their soulmate, it happened more than you'd think—about as common as dyslexia.

Angelina didn't give two fucks about whether the person she was dating was her soulmate, she tended to do whatever she wanted.

"Well—my soulmate is pretty cool too." Y/n protested.

"Well obviously!" Angelina retorted. "They has to be good enough for our Y/n"

"Oh stop it." Y/n laughed, throwing her hairbrush at Angelina. "I won't have time to ask someone and besides, I think he likes someone else." Y/n looked down, fiddling at the edge of her pink pyjamas.

"Your soulmate or your crush?"

"Maybe both!"

●●●

Fred woke up early today, mostly because he couldn't sleep. I mean, he just found his soulmate! This is the moment that everybody waits for, and it finally happened!

Fred was utterly in love with whoever his soulmate was. The two soulmates have sang duets with each other since they could talk—never making any action to try and find each other but Fred would be lying if he said he hadn't blasted music in his ears just to see if someone in the Great Hall would react.

His soulmate was constantly listening to music and singing songs, it comforted him whenever he heard it—especially since he's heard it since he was little.

And it was Angelina, a girl he was been trying not to crush on for ages.

Fred walked down the stairs, almost laughing when he saw Angelina.

Angelina and Y/n were completely passed out on the common room couches, paper sprawled out as they were doing a history of magic essay.

Fred shook Angelina awake. "Angie...Angie!"

Angelina fell off the bed. "What?"

Fred grinned. "I just thought you might wanna head to bed before the rest of the house wakes up."

Angelina rubbed her eyes before looking around—seeing essay papers, pens and her best friend, still sleeping as she sleepily held the tip of her thumb in her mouth and lulled herself asleep. "What time is it?"

"You have a little less than three hours before everybody else wakes up."

Angelina sighed, getting up and separating their papers and pens. "Hey, Fred?"

"Yeah?" He said hopefully.

"Can you do me a favour?"

Angelina handed him a messenger bag with little bows and gold chains decorating it, he took it without question as she continued.

"Do you think you could get Y/n to her common room? This is.. um This is the longest she's slept for a while and I don't know how to get into the Hufflepuff common room."

Fred thought for a moment—but who was he to deny his soulmate? After all, getting into the Hufflepuff dorms were easy—having learned the ins and outs of practically the whole school.

So Fred slung the bag across his shoulder and walked over to Y/n, still sleeping peacefully.

"Thank you!" Angelina grabbed her own supplies and started going up stairs. "You're the best!" She called. "I'll get you a tailoring with her today! Is dinner alright?"

Fred nodded, slowly picked Y/n up, putting her on the couch so he could give her a piggy back ride to her common room. "Hold on..."

Almost as if her sleeping body could hear it, Y/n's body tensed up, making it easier for Fred to carry.

So Fred walked out of the Gryffindor dormitories and started walking in the halls to go to the Hufflepuff common room.

The sun had barely risen, shining dull lights into the hallway and Fred felt Y/n shift in her sleep—ignoring how his skin fluttered as her breath rolled on top of it.

Fred almost stopped walking as Y/n shifted once more, making a small whimper, trying to pull her hand closer to her face.

"Chéri, if you move your hand, you're gonna fall—okay?" Fred said softly, adjusting his grip on her legs, making sure she wouldn't slip.

Y/n hummed in response, tucking her head on Fred's shoulder as he kept on walking.

Fred was halfway to the common room—walking slowly as to not wake up Y/n when he froze.

Having her thumb clasped between her fingers around Fred's chest, supporting her upper body weight—Fred felt her head twitching, needing something to soothe her to sleep.

Not wanting to have to explain the situation to the sleeping girl or disappoint Angelina—Fred adjusted the girl, now giving her a piggy-front, letting Y/n head sit comfortably against his neck.

Fred debated checking whether his face was on fire when the sleeping girl began to press little kisses on his neck, trying to substitute something for her thumb.

Fred continued walking, but why was he so flustered?

Maybe it’s his soulmate’s best friend.

What was her name again? Y/n?

Fred knocked on the Hufflepuff dorm door in the tune of Helga Hufflepuff. Before walking in and taking the stairs to the girl’s dormitory.

Trying not to feel awkward, he searched the dorm labels until he saw it.

______________

Girls Dorm #207

- Susan Bones

- Lia Diggory

- Y/n L/n

______________

Praising Merlin that she didn’t have too many roommates— He knocked on the door a few times, jumping up again to make sure Y/n didn’t slip.

"Hello?" A small voice asked, a very tired red head opened the door.

Fred gave an award smile. "I have a delivery?"

The girl smiled before letting him in and pointing at the empty bed and messed up desk.

Feed walked over, clutching on to Y/n as he quickly flipped the blanket open and tucked her instead. Y/n immediately latched onto the blankets.

Fred smiled before looking at her desk—tons of dress designs a long with tons of reminders everywhere when a certain one caught his eyes.

The Weasley Twins Inspired Dress

Curious, he picked up the sketch to see that she managed to make a confetti canon dress, inspired by that time he and George covered the Slytherin team in confetti right before a Quidditch match against Hufflepuff.

"I think you're cute together," Susan whispered bashfully, her cheeks pink.

"Oh no," her face fell when Fred denied it. "I already found my soulmate today."

"Oh I'm sorry." Susan apologised, combing her hair. "I just thought your h—never mind." She began to point at her neck before waving it off. "I assume you know how to take care of it?"

"Yeah! I'm planning on asking her to the yule ball!" Fred said, not having any idea what Susan was talking about.

"What? Ya know what—" Susan dug through her make up bag before grabbing Fred's arm and swatching some concealer shades. "You're lucky, you're my winter shade." Susan tossed Fred a concealer wand before shooing him out. "Bye!"

Holding onto the concealer, extremely confused, Fred walked back to him common room before going into the bathroom.

"Shit." Fred vocalised, realising why Susan Bones has thrown him concealer.

A light hickey lay on the side of his neck where Y/n had been.

Fred spent the next two hours trying to figure out how concealer worked.

He didn't understand it—instead opting for a scarf instead to cover up the blotchy disaster he created on his neck.

●●●

Y/n genuinely didn't question why she woke up in her bed and more concerned on her planner—you could see her running up and down the halls all day.

"Professor Moody, may I borrow Ron Weasley please?"

Ron showed her his suit for the ball. "Never mind, you're beyond help. Professor Moody, you can have him back." Y/n said, scribbling something out in her planner.

Taking the stairs, Y/n just started walking—flipping to the back of her planner to edit some sketches and ideas for dresses—not noticing the stair cases changing directions.

Walking up and down and sideways along the halls, Y/n kept walking until she bumped into someone.

"I'm so sorry!" She said automatically only to be shushed by two voices. "Huh—?"

""SHH!" Y/n looked at the two Weasley twins.

"Why?" She asked, looking around to see nobody.

"I don' know," Fred admitted.

"We're skipping, so I assume we have to be quiet." George finished.

The Hufflepuff scoffed. "I'm not skipping. I did all my work in advance so I could focus of the dress making." She looked down at the planner. "And on that note—you have a appointment with me in two minutes. We can't be late!"

"Does that mean you have the answers?" Fred asked as he got dragged away.

"We can discuss answers after we're on time for our session."

"If it's our appointment, how can we be late?"

Y/n sighed, shaking her head. “It’s fine we’re almost there, Willow’s gonna be upset.”

“Who?”

Y/n dragged Fred near a tree where a small desk, mannequins and color swatches were, Y/n thrust Fred upon a little platform until tree branches began to swing around chaotically.

“Willow! Calm down! This isn’t Ron! This is a different Weasley!” Y/n started yelling.

“Willow? As in the Whomping Willow?!”

“Stop moving!” Y/n snapped, petting the branches. “Willow didn’t like it when your brother nearly killed her with a car. I think she has like— Weasley trauma.”

Fred cackled. “Weasley trauma?” A tree branch slapped the back of his head. “Hey!”

“She’s very sensitive.” Y/n defended. “Speaking of Ron, please tell me your suit isn’t as hideous.”

“Don’t worry— I just have a normal suit… I wasn’t sure if I should’ve brought it so I just wore it—”

“That’s perfect. Mind shrugging off the jacket and scarf?”

Nervously, Fred took off the scarf and jacket, revealing the concealer mess on his neck.

“Oh sweetie, what the hell happened to your neck!” Y/n cooed. "Goodness, let me help you. You're gonna break out... Accio makeup kit!"

"I have every shade under the sun, I'm helping people with their makeup too." Y/n waved her hand down. "Get down, off." Y/n stepped onto the platform as Fred stepped off, facing Y/n.

Y/n took a makeup wipe and cleaned up the spot before taking out a whisk and spinning it on the hickey.

"When did you learn how to hide hickey? Does that even work?" Fred asked, watching the metal kitchen utensil.

"Oh hush, it's common knowledge." Y/n pushed his face away, continuing to whisk. "It helps the blood disperse. Next time, put ice on it before it bruises."

Shade matching and blending it in, Y/n hoped Fred couldn't hear her heart beating out of her chest as she finished hiding the red mark. "See? Like it never even happened."

Willow presented a mirror for Fred to see for himself, thank god because that scarf was very itchy.

"Now, how much are we thinking off the tie?" Y/n held up a tape measure and a sharpie, tucking the sharpie behind her ear. "It supposed to be around your belt buckle...Do you feel comfortable with it over here?"

Fred nodded, looking at her in the mirror more than him. Why hadn't he seen her more often? Has she been friends with Angelina for a long time?

"Lovely...okay do you mind if I take this?" Y/n took the colorful tie off Fred and held it up to Willow." Willow, this is Fred's tie." Willow held onto the tie.

"Okay just one second..." Y/n brought out a sheet of brown fabric and a sheet of black fabric and hopped onto the platform with him. She pulled the black one around half of his chest and the brown one around the other half.

"Okay so I think the brown is more flattering on you, I feel like you look paler with the black one—Hey!"

Fred's head started tilting to one side as he imagined Angelina and her hanging out—still in disbelief he had actually found his soulmate.

Y/n grabbed his jaw and moved it so that it faced her. "Sorry, I just need to see—" Y/n furrowed her eyebrows confused as Fred pointed at something in the distance behind her.

Y/n looked behind her only for her jaw to pulled back and facing Fred, pulling the same move she had accidentally done to him. "Touché," She smiled—desperately hoping she wasn't blushing.

"How long have you friends with Angelina?" Fred asked, snapping Y/n out of her mental freakout.

"Oh—uh, since first year. We met on the train." Y/n cast a spell to turn Fred's suit brown. "Yeah that looks better—you looked like you were going to a funeral."

“Then why do I never see you guys hang out?”

Y/n thinks before answering. “I like to keep myself busy, that or I just eat in the kitchen.”

“Why not hang out with Angelina?”

“Uh- Well Alicia and I don’t really get along so I don’t want to make it weird for Angelina. Besides, most of the time Angelina hangs out with me in the kitchen.”

So that’s why Fred never sees Angelina in the Great hall. “Why the kitchen?”

“Because the house elves love me.” Y/n smiled, writing her to do list. “Besides, I like baking.”

Fred stepped off the platform and watched Y/n write. “Do you bake any of the food in the Great Hall?”

“The brownies, but sometimes I also cook the ribs but I like baking more than cooking.”

Fred loves the brownies, he eats them every time they show up on the table.

“Speaking of food… It’s dinner, you better hurry before all the seats are taken.” Y/n starting putting things away and getting out a dress presumingly belonging to her next appointment.

Fred stepped off the small platform, checking his covered hickey once more before starting to turn around. "You aren't going to dinner?"

"Maybe later." She responded quickly, casting a spell on the dress. "Not hungry. " She said briefly. "You can pick up your tie by like tomorrow."

"Alright then, I'll see you around?"

"Sure. Angelina! Can you grab that?" A piece of fabric swirled away in the wind near an approaching Angelina.

Fred walked away, happy with his day and his fitting appointment.

(A/N lmao I have nooooo idea how to end these. Part two could be ready tomorrow or in 3 months, we'll see.)

[nickfurysrighteye]

college au!chase davenport x fem!reader PART 2

summary: after your kiss in the library things between you and chase get a lot more..intense

cw: NSFW!! male masturbation, oral + fingering (f! receiving), unprotected sex (p in v), moaning kink (idk if there's a proper name for it or if it's even a thing but oh well), use of pet names (ex. baby, love), dirty talk, cumming inside.

words: 5.2k

a/n: this is my first time writing something this smutty so i hope you like it :) if you missed the first part, clik here

MDNI!!!

after your "study session" at the library you were left wondering if chase felt what you felt, if that kiss is haunting him like it does with you. it's the only thing you can think about. during lectures, while you study, while you're talking with your friends, the only thing going through your head is that kiss. the feeling of his lips on yours, his hands all over your body giving you that tingling sensation.

the fact is, that kiss is not only haunting chase like it's haunting you, but it has become an obsession. he can't stop replaying that moment in his head and his imagination is taking over, making up fantasies about fucking you at any time in any place. he can't no longer study because his mind is filled up with images of you naked laying on his bed moaning out his name as you cum on his face while he's eating you out. he likes to imagine your tits bouncing as you ride his dick, your wet cunt spilling cum all over him.

it's perverted but he can't help it, he gets so hard at the thought of cumming inside of you his dick aches. he lays on his bed every night with his eyes closed imagining fucking you over and over and over again while he pumps his dick with his hand. "fuuuck..y/n please..oh my god..holy shit" he whimpers and moans while thick loads of cum cover his hand. he never had sex but he also never thought about it like this until that kiss with you in the library.

your number saved on his phone stays untouched, he's too scared to text you or call you. if he has these kind of thoughts while you're not around he doesn't want to know what his mind will come up with once he's with you.

chase's torn though, he's scared but doesn't want you to think he doesn't like you. one afternoon he decides to text you.

"hey y/n it's Chase, i'm so sorry about not texting you sooner. i'd really love to see you." once the text is sent he throws his phone on the bed, he's so scared you'll be too mad at him to even respond to his text.

his phone chimes. it's you.

"hey chase, I'd love to see you too. mind if I come over tonight?" oh my fucking god she wants to see me he thinks, he really didn't expect you to be this calm.

"sure, why don't you come over around nine thirty?"

"perfect i'll see you later :)"

-

at nine o'clock the doorbell rings and Chase opens the door to find you standing there.

"hi" you smile.

"hi, come on in."

"i'm having deja vu" you laugh trying to shake off the tension. you hope he doesn't sense how nervous you are, and if he does you hope he's as nervous as you.

"would you like some tea?" chase ask kindly as he walks to the kitchen.

"sure, thanks." you follow him. "where's your brother?"

"oh adam went out with his friends, honestly i have no idea where he is but he won't be back soon." his back's facing you as he prepares the tea, boiling hot water already in the kettle. you lean against the counter.

"so... we're alone?"

"yeah, i thought it wouldn't be a problem considering what we did when we were alone last time." he looks at you with a smirk while handing you a mug. you try to hide your smile. you go sit down on the couch and chase follows you, sitting down next to you. he places his mug onto the coffee table.

"look i don't wanna ruin this already but there's something i wanna talk to you about. about the library thing..i- i liked..kissing you.. and i would have continued what we were doing but i panicked and just ran out and i was too scared to call-"

"chase." you stop his spiral "I really liked kissing you too." a soft smile appears on his lips as he look down embarrassed.

"sorry, I'm nervous. i just like you. a lot."

you put down your mug and get a bit closer to him. "i like you too, a lot. since we kissed i couldn't stop thinking about you. actually i've never stopped thinking about you since i first talked to you." you stop for a moment, gazing at his features once again. it all comes back again: the warmth, the ecstacy, feeling his touch all over you, how his lips felt so familiar onto yours, like they had always belonged there.

it's not easy, explaining the longing desire not only your body but also your mind has for him. any experience, any connection you had with anyone else before compared to him becomes dull, vain, shallow. you only shared a kiss and it's eating you alive.

your hand finds it's way onto his neck and pull him closer. this time he kisses you more roughly, with more passion. his hands are quick to travel all over your body again pulling you even closer. all of chase's thought are about having you as close as possible to him, he has been longing your warmth for days. he takes your leg and brings it over to his other side so that you're sitting on top of him. his kisses get sloppier, messier, his tongue savors yours like he's been starved for weeks. he grabs your ass, making you whimper a little.

"god you're so cute when you do that."

his lips quickly crash back onto yours and he holds you even closer making you giggle into the kiss. your heart is palpitating and your body gets hotter and hotter as your tongues swirl together. slowly, you start moving your hips, grinding against his groin, making chase moan. you can feel his pants getting tighter as his dick gets harder with your every move, you can feel his hard tip pushing against your clit through your pants. your lips gradually move from his lips to his jaw to his neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses behind as you pick up the pace with your hips. the fair scent of his cologne inebriate you as you suck and bite at his skin, leaving little red and purpleish spot on his neck.

chase pushes back his head, soft moans come out of his mouth as his breath becomes shorter. this is better than any scenario he imagined for this night, it would be even better if he gets to act out the fantasies that had been taunting him since the last time you met.

"you don't know how much i wanted this." his whisper's followed by a soft grunt.

"there's so much more i can do to you if you want me to"

your hands slide down his torso, getting closer to the waistband of his pants. clarity hits chase for a brief moment and all of a sudden he feels hesitant. he fantasized about doing certain things to you but he had never done it in real life. a wave of anxiety takes over him. what if he can't make you feel as good as he wants you to? what if he can't do it at all? you move your head away from his neck and go to kiss him on the lips again but you see the doubtful look in his eyes.

"chase, did i say something wrong? are you ok?" the last thing you wanted to do is make him uncomfortable.

"i..uh.."

"we can stop if you want." you start lifting your leg to get off of him but chase stops you.

"no i don't wanna stop. it's just that i..uh..i've never done it before. i actually never done any of this before."

you laugh softly "does that mean i get to be your first?"

-

you're laying on his bed, chase's on top of you, you feel the warmth of his body heating you up, he's leaving faint kisses all over your neck and collarbone. your fingers intertwine and you get lost in the feeling of his soft lips against your skin.

chase lowers one of his hands to undo the button of your pants, he slide them off your legs. he stops for a moment to admire your body, feeling your curves with his fingertips, causing you to have chills running down your spine.

he hooks his fingers to the sides of your panties, his eyes glued to the wet spot in the middle.

"may i?" he looks up at you for approval. you nod your head so he gently slides them down your legs, tossing them aside. then, he spreads your legs a bit more to fully marvel at your wet folds, touching them lightly with two fingers.

"can i eat you out? please?" you never had a guy staring at you with those lustfull eyes begging you to eat you out. "yes, yes please."

chase then quickly presses his lips onto your soaked cunt, brushing his tongue against your wet lips. he whirls it around until he finds your clit, your heart racing as soon as he hits the spot.

"is this ok?" does this feel good?" he stops to look at you when he hears a faint whimper coming out of you.

"it feels really good please keep going." your fingers find their way through his soft brown hair, messing it up and tugging lightly at his scalp. chase keeps pressing onto your sensitive clit, kissing it, licking it, sucking it.

"oh my god chase" your moans awake something in him, making him go faster and harder. he can't help but groan into your cunt, you just taste too good. he gets so much pleasure from just tasting you, he would have never imagined your cunt being so addictive.

you moan and whine, feeling your orgasm grow in your lower belly, but you don't want to cum just yet. while his tongue is focused on your clit, chase's fingers feel the wetness of your folds, then he carefully slides two fingers in. slowly he starts pumping his fingers in and out, curling them inside you. your cunt feels so tight around his fingers, the only thing he thinks about is how good it would feel to have it wrapped around his dick.

each curl of his fingers sends chills down your entire body, like electricity running through your veins. clear, slick fluids covering them more and more with each thrust as his tongue brushes against your bud. the silence of the room is filled with your desperate moans, at this point you're not even trying to hide how good it feels having him between your legs.

the sweet sounds escaping your mouth fill him pleasure. his pants have become so tight around him he's just craving some release. he can feel precum leaking from his tip, soaking his underwear, as he grinds against the bed while his face's buried in your cunt, lapping up all your juices like he has been dying of thrist.

you can't take it anymore, you just want to have him. you need him. you need to feel him inside of you. you want to fuck him until he begs because he can't take it anymore.

"chase please i need you..please chase fuck me" you moan louder and louder, your cunt pulsating as you get closer and closer. suddenly he stops, taking out his fingers, licking them clean. the absence of his touch is making you ache, your body needs more of him. it needs to feel more of him. he takes off his shirt, showing off his toned body, his pants hang lower from all the grinding so the v line of his hips is showing. your eyes scan his body, going lower and lower, admiring all of his features. the faint line of light brown hairs guides your eyes from his belly down to the waistband of his underwear showing from his jeans.

chase notices you're staring; he chuckles "what?"

"nothing.. it's not every day i get to see a guy with a body like that between my legs, so i wanna enjoy the view." you lightly bite your lower lip, your words make chase laugh a little more as his cheeks become a fair red color.

chase leans back down to kiss you ardently, hands traveling up your shirt, cupping your breasts. he takes the shirt off of you, having you now fully naked on his bed. he couldn't ask for a more beautiful view. his eyes land on your round tits, they're even better than he imagined, so soft and full.

"you're so fucking beautiful." he dives into your neck, leaving a trace of harsh kisses, licking and nibbling the soft skin. your hands find their way to his bulge, applying enough pressure to make him groan.

"ugh fuck – i want to fuck you so badly" he moans into your neck as he holds you closer.

you unbutton his jeans and pull down the zipper "then take your pants off."

-

now chase's lying on the bed, completely stripped, his long, thick dick in your hand throbbing and soaked with precum. you tease him by rubbing it against your folds, wetting his tip.

"please y/n, please"

"you want me to ride you? you want me to make you feel good chase?"

"yes please y/n, i want you to make me feel good please ugh –" his words turn into moans as you slide your cunt against his length and slowly grind the tip against your clit, getting him all nice and wet.

you decide it was enough with the teasing so you take his dick and slowly insert it inside you, taking it all inch by inch.

"oohh fuck —" he hisses, you take your time starting to pump his dick inside you, fully adjusting to his length. you start to find your rhythm, slowly going up and down, moving your hips, savoring every movement, every sensation having him inside you makes you feel. chase's hands travel up and down your thighs and caress your warm skin. he moves them upwards and grabs firmly at the soft skin of your ass, making your hips move at a quicker pace. although he loves how you're making him feel so good, making him feel a type of plesure he never experienced before and could have never experienced it without you, he needs more.

"ugh — your pussy feels so fucking good" he lets out, his eyes close for a moment and he lets his head go even more further into the pillows. this still isn't enough though. his body yearns for more. he plants his feet firmly on the bed so he can prop his hips up and push you even harder down his dick, now he's fully guiding you up and down while gripping your ass so hard you're sure it's gonna leave a red mark afterwards. he hits your sweet spot so hard you can't help but moan and whimper, completely melting as he thrusts deeper into you. those harmonious sounds that leave your pretty lips make him spiral; his ears have never been blessed with such lovely sound before this very moment, he wants to give you even more pleasure just so he can keep hearing the sweet noises you make for him. he frees one of his hands from your hips and wonders down to where the two of you are connected. he place his thumb onto your sentive clit, rubbing small circles.

the moans become even louder and he can't help but listen, completely in awe. the fact he can give you this much pleasure feeds his ego in a way he could have never expected. you sink into him and suddenly he wraps an arm around your body, keeping a tight grip onto your side. a thick white ring forming at the base of his dick, now the whimpers and the moans mixed with wet sounds.

"—shit i'm gonna fucking cum - fuck chase oh fuck – oh my god "

"yeah baby just like that — cum on my cock just like that ~"

a wave of electricity passes through your body as you reach your climax, as chase still pushes your hips up and down to fuck you through your high you let your body relax onto him. his grip turns into an embrace, protecting your body from the cold air of the room. chase moves his hand to your cheek to move away some strands of hair that covered your pretty fucked out face, placing a gentle kiss onto your lips while the two of you are still connected at your core.

"let's..slow down for a minute..ok?" words escape your lips between breaths while a soft smile curved your lips.

"we can take all the time you want baby" chase caresses your pink, warm, cheeks and kisses you gently, moving his lips delicately. it's different from before; this time it's not passion what you can perceive into the kiss, but rather love. it's a kiss to make you feel taken care of, to show to you you're not just a piece of meat to him. no guy who only wanted you for your body would kiss you the way chase does and he wants to be sure you feel that with each and every movement of his lips.

he gracefully turns you around so that you're laying on the bed below him, still caressing your skin and leaving soft pecks onto your lips, cheeks, neck and collarbone.

"you wanna keep going?" you look up at him with big shiny eyes. he nods and places himself at your entrance, your cunt's still wet and puffy. he pushes back in and starts to thrust with his hips gradually finding a steadier rhythm. as he slides back and forth he kisses you tenderly but the more his pleasure grows the messier the kisses become. an arm swiftly moves beneath you, his palm open against your back, drawing you closer to his body and elevating your hip to thrust even deeper. he touches your sweet spots again and low, soft moans come out of you.

the rush your moans give him feel is unbelievable. they turn him on so much. he picks up the pace, panting and groaning as he feels your tight walls wrap around him, clenching each time he hits your favorite spot.

"please chase don't stop – ugh how can you be this fucking good —" your words feed his ego so much his lips curl into a smirk.

"if you don't want me to stop, let me hear those sweet sounds you make f'me –"

chase lifts his body up and spreads your legs to bring your cores closer and thrust harder. "spread your legs f'me baby ~ like that, wider." chase's hand travels from behind your back down to your clit and begins to rub it in circle motions once again, giving you that heavenly sensation.

"fuck! – chase –"

all of a sudden, you hear a muffled sound of keys rattling in the distance, followed by the sound of the front door being shut closed. a dulled voice starts echoing through the hallway.

"shit your brother's home" you're quite surprised by his early return home, it can't be later than eleven.

adam enters the apartment, throwing his keys on the little table next to the front door.

" – what did you want me to do man? i wouldn't have left if your friend wasn't a piece of shit! –" he spits his words angrily at the person he was talking to on the phone "– what does that have to do with anything? dude if you don't want someone flirting with your girl don't fucking bring her to the party! whatever man i gotta go, i'll see you tomorrow." a deep annoyed groan leaves his mouth as he falls back on the charcoal colored couch, letting his head fall against the cushion and rubbing his tired eyes with his fingertips. his eyelids fall heavy, his head hurts a little bit from the couple of drinks he had at his friend's place so to calm the throbbing adam stays there lying against the cushion.

despite your concern, chase doesn't stop thrusting into you for a single second, with the same force, trying to savour the pleasure. his finger's still rubbing small circles around your clit, waves of pleasure come crashing into you with every move, your cunt getting more and more wet and making his dick slide in and out of your needy hole with more and more ease. it was aphrodisiacal for him, seeing you like this, almost as if you were a drug: legs spread, tits bouncing back and forth with every thrust..although his favorite thing is seeing your cunt all stretched out by his cock, wrapping it all and making it so so wet, milky fluid spilling out of the sides every time his thick cock makes his way into you. on top of all of this, he's the one getting you this wet, making you feel so good you moan his name. except that now instead of the sweet sounds he likes so much, all he hears are soft whines muffled by a pillow you keep close to your mouth with your hand.

"why so quiet now huh?"

"your brother's gonna hear us."

"you think i care? it's not like he worries about noise when he brings girls over while I'm home" he leans closer to your ear "also there's nothing that turn me on more that hearing your sweet voice moaning my name" his lips leave hot kisses on your neck as he whispers "so please love let me hear how good i make you feel" he grabs both of your wrists with his left hand, pinning them above your head so that you can't cover your face and he picks up the pace of his thrusts.

"ugh — chase -"

"yeah like that keep going – louder" the thrusts get harder and quicker.

"ugh chase – oh fuck ugh–" you raise your voice even more, the pleasure is becoming so much you feel another orgasm approaching.

"fuck y/n – you're gonna make me fucking come–" he frees your wrists and instead wraps one arm around you, crushing you with his body and placing the other hand on your puffy clit again.

"oh please don't stop don't stop don't stop ~"

"ugh 'm gonna fill you up – you're so fucking tight you feel so good baby ~"

the loud sounds the both of you make are muffled by the locked bedroom door, but it's not enough to make them unable to hear.

adam's eyes open again, he fell asleep briefly and somehow wakes up with an even bigger headache, so big his ears must have started hearing weird things... like the sounds coming from his brother's bedroom? no it can't be, he thinks, chase never has girls over, is he watching porn? adam waits a few moments sitting still on the couch, then his gaze falls on the two full but cold cups of tea sitting on the coffee table. confused, adam starts scanning the room with his eyes for other unusual signs: a leather jacket hanged on the coat rack, along with a scarf and a small bag, both of which are neither his or his brother's.

more muffled sounds come from behind the closed door "chase please –"

a disgusted expression falls onto adam's face when he realizes what's happening "oh my god! are you kidding me!? ugh so gross!" he brings his hands to his ears and walks away to his room, the more he tries to not hear the more disgusted he gets. adam shuts the door of his room loudly, making his presence clear as if you didn't already know he was home.

chase’s face is buried into your neck, kissing it and breathing in your scent as he gets closer to climax. at this point, his thrusts have become so quick and messy he's barely pulling out before he pushes hard back into you. he's inebriated. your legs, wrapped around his waist keeping him close, tremble each time he pushes into you and graze your sweet spot with the tip of his dick. moans come out of your mouth one after the other against his ear. your hands are placed against his back and you're unconsciously digging your nails into his skin, slowly dragging them down and leaving red marks that are emphasized even more by his fair complexion. he's definitely going to brag about them later. your mouth's wide open when you feel your walls clench against him, breath hitching with his every thrust, and suddenly the pleasure overwhelms you, hitting you hard as you cum for a second time. moans becoming cries of plesure filling the room when your orgasm drowns you and draw chase even closer to the edge. he can't no longer contain himself and with loud groans he spills thick long ropes of cum into you. he's moaning, swearing, spilling out incoherent half sentences while still thrusting into you fucking the both of you through your high.

when it wears off, chase gradually slows down until he finally stops and catch his breath. your heart's beating so fast you can feel almost jumping out of your chest, you feel your tired legs ache the moment you let go of chase's waist and relax them onto the bed. still all inside you, chase rests his body onto you, buring his face into the crook of your neck once again.

"holy shit –" his voice is soft and quiet since he's still catching his breath. his words make you chuckle and he can't help but smile against your skin. he could listen to your laugh forever.

chase lifts his body up and pulls out of you, letting the white fluid spill out of your puffy hole. "i'm gonna go get something to clean you up with ok? i'll be right back." he smiles softly with his rosy lips, then leans down to place a gentle kiss yours while caressing your warm cheek with his thumb.

"okay." you smile back at him.

-

a beam of light shines through the drawn curtain and touches the bare skin of your face and shoulders, the warmth is comforting. you can feel arms wrapped around you, keeping you close, a gentle kiss is placed on your forehead as you wake up and your eyes adjust slowly to the light. you and chase lie skin to skin, both of you only wearing your underwear. being this close to him, you can feel his sweet-smelling scent with each breath you take.

"good morning" chase's voice is lower and a little raspy "did you sleep well?" he delicately moves little strands of hair out of your face with his fingers, then places them onto your satiny cheek.

"yeah. i really like your voice in the morning." he laughs softly at your compliment, his smile is so contagious you can't help but giggle with him.

"thank you" he says with his low voice, "are you hungry? i can make you something to eat if you want."

"sure"

"alright, i'll go to the kitchen real quick, I'll be right back." he places three pecks on your face: on your cheek, then the corner of your lips and then finally your lips. then, chase gets out of the bed and throws on a grey short-sleeved tshirt that was lying around, just to wear something more than only his briefs. he heads for the kitchen, closing the bedroom door behind him.

he finds adam already up and dressed, standing at the front door about to leave.

"what are you doing up so early?" adam asks him with a slight surprise in his tone, despite being him who usually wakes up late.

"i could ask you the same question. where are you going?"

"i was gonna go have breakfast at the café down the street, didn't wanna disturb you and your...friend. 'm not really used to being the odd man out."

"yeah, I guess that doesn't happen a lot." chase finds the role reversal pretty ironic and kinda hard to believe, he didn't think there was ever going to be a situation like this.

"what about you? what are you doing?"

"oh i was gonna make y/n something to eat. she's still in bed."

adam starts to chuckle at his brother words "chase, really? you're making her breakfast?" the innocent smile that was once plastered across chase's face fades away "you're so naive it's adorable."

"what? i wanted to do something nice for her."

"those kind of things are boyfriend things, you don't do that with a one night stand. you never give a girl boyfriend treatment when you're not the boyfriend. the way this works is: she comes over, you hook up then leave her out the front door when you're done."

"well..what if i don't wanna do that? what if i wanna give her the "boyfriend treatment" because i would actually like to be her boyfriend?"

adam laughs loudly like chase just asked him the dumbest question in the world, which to him sounds like it. "like you would ever date y/n. she's waaaay out of your league. it would be a miracle if you even got close to go out with her once, let alone date her. trust me, be happy you two fucked and give up."

as soon as adam is finished with his sentence he opens the front door and leaves, his laughs still lingering in the room as chase stands still in front of the dor. suddenly, the sound of another door opening catches his attention. you come outside of chase's room, wearing only the shirt he had on the previous night and your underwear. he turns around to see you getting closer to him, wrapping your arms around his torso.

"hey, what's with that face? everything's ok?" you look up at him worried, you didn't hear much of their conversation besides their muffled voices and adam's laugh. chase smiles softly trying to hide doubt his brother's words have raised in him.

"it's nothing, don't worry about it." you don't respond, you just furrow your eyebrows and look at him with those shiny eyes.

chase shakes his head slightly, pondering whether or not tell you. "it's dumb, really...it's just that – mhm – no, no, just – just forget it. forget i said anything."

"what is it chase?"

he takes a deep breath then exhales "i don't want...this to be a one time thing, nor a "friends with benefits" thing. i'm really, really, attracted to you and i'd love to take you out on a date, do things the way you're supposed to." at first, you don't say anything, your gaze is glued on him.

"i knew it was dumb, i'm so-"

"I'd love to go on a date with you."

his smile grows wide again "are you serious?" you simply nod, which is enough to make his smile even bigger. he cups your cheeks with both of his hands and cloeses the distance between you two, crashing your lips together with a big smile still plastered onto his face.

"i'm sorry you must be hungry, i'll go make some breakfast."

"oh don't worry there's no need to rush."

"then what do you wanna do?"

you look up at him, lips curled in a sly smile.

"i'm up for morning sex if you are."

the same sly smile appears on his face instantly.

"let's go to the bedroom."

-

a/n: thank you for reading and most importantly thank you so much for the patience!!! i really hope y'all enjoyed this fic <3

tag: @maggiecc @kenshomin @thechalkprincessemma @vildetry06 @sexiestmfdeadoralive

[evangelical04]

A Single Daffodil || 1

Summary: Getting arranged to be married to your long-time crush wasn't exactly the fairy tale romance you were hoping for. Nor is the dynamic of the marriage, with your husband treating you like you don't exist. But you're going to make this work, whether he cares about you or not. And he definitely doesn't...right?

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Rating: 18+ minors DNI

Word Count: 2.7K

Genre: angst, romance, unrequited love, smut, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage au, businessman yoongi

Warnings: parental trauma, sibling trauma, toxic parents, unrequited love, explicit language, alcohol usage, yoongi's kind of mean, future smut

Author's Note: hello! i'm Eva and this is my first fic on tumblr ever! I've been a reader for so long and I've always wanted to write my own stories, so I figured I finally would. I know it’s kind of short but I promise the other parts will be longer. Please give me any feedback you have and let me know if you'd like there to be a tag list or anything! I hope you guys like it!! p.s. I'm totally posting this instead of doing my morphology homework that's due in 15 minutes

masterlist / next

The door to your childhood home looked artificially welcoming. There were too many flowers lining the walls encasing the looming wooden door. The grass on the lawn just was a bit too green without a blade out of place and the paved walkway was freshly powerwashed and missing even a speck of dirt. You let out the deep breath you were holding and gently took hold of the overly ornate bronze knocker adorning the painted wood of the door. Two loud thuds rang out as you knocked and the door quickly opened afterwards.

“Hello, Miss Y/N, your parents have been expecting you.”

“Yes, I know. Thank you, Mrs. Oh,” you responded quietly, nodding at the grey-haired woman. She shot you a sympathetic smile before ushering you in, taking your coat and carefully laying it over her arm. After removing your shoes, you followed her past the foyer to the living room where your parents awaited. 

You knew what was coming, you knew that this had been decided long before you were born. Yet, you still felt unprepared. You had grown comfortable, living in your simple apartment in Gangnam and your quiet work routine. Biting your lip, you reprimanded yourself internally, You should’ve brought this shit up in therapy before it happened.

“Here we are, Miss Y/N,” Mrs. Oh said, snapping you out of your self-pity session. You nodded gratefully at her, sending a small smile her way. Her eyebrows wove together in her own pity-ridden expression and she quickly whispered, “Good luck,” while exiting swiftly. You steeled your nerves and forced your chin up high, knowing that you’d most likely cower inwards as soon as you faced your parents anyway.

Stepping into the room, you noted the almost intervention-like setup your parents had arranged themselves in, with your father sitting proudly in his reclining, leather armchair, clad in a dark blue quarter zip and khaki pants. Your mother stood facing the fireplace, arms crossed, in a simple and elegant turquoise dress and hair tied up in a tight and neat bun, with her baby hairs smoothed back to prevent any imperfection. You could almost imagine her pinched mouth, forever encased in a stern and unamused expression. 

“Hello father, mother,” you started, trying to smooth the slight trembling in your voice. Your mother turned around, eyes narrowing at your form, “Sit down.”

You promptly obeyed.

“Your father and I have decided on your marriage. It’ll be to the Min family, to Min Yoongi.”

“What? To him? But,” you began protesting but your mother quickly cut you off with a steely glare. 

“It has already been decided. Your wedding will be in eight months. I’ll forward you the invitation list and you can add three people of your choosing. You’ll be having dinner with us and the Min family on Friday at six. I’ll have Yujin send you an email with further details. Don’t be late.” 

You looked to your father in a desperate plea but were only met with stony silence and a passive face. You turned back to your mother and registered the composed expression painting her face. Your fate had been decided, and it had not worked in your favor at all. Rising slowly, you set your hands by your side and bowed towards your parents, “I understand. I’ll be there.”

Your mother swiftly exited the room, evidently deciding the conversation was over. You could hear her dangling earrings tinkling against each other in what felt like a mocking melody. Your father calmly produced a cigar from the table next to him and lit up, no longer acknowledging you either. You let out another slow breath and walked out. 

Collecting your coat from Mrs. Oh, who tried to give you a comforting shoulder squeeze but it felt more like condolences than anything, and made your way to your car parked in front of the gate closing off your parents’ home. 

That’s it then.

You felt eerily calm yet stressed as you started up your car and carefully reversed out, making sure to avoid hitting the carved statues your parents had in front of the iron gate. As you drove home, your mind started racing with the information you had been relayed. 

Min Yoongi as your soon-to-be-husband? What irony.

Does he even know you exist?

Will you be able to survive this?

Hand gripping the steering wheel hard, you quickly dialed the most recent number in your contact list. She answered after only two rings.

“Y/N! Are you still alive? How’d it go?”

“Hi Joohee, not great. I’m completely and totally fucked.”

Joohee chuckled on the other end of the line, “Want to come over?”

“Yes,” you breathed, “I was hoping you’d offer.”

“I’ll get the booze.”

“Min Yoongi? Now that’s ironic,” Joohee chuckled, seemingly at your expense. You shot a glare her way which she shrugged in response to.

“How long have you been crushing on him? This is, like, practically fate. Maybe this’ll be a good thing.”

You scoffed in response, “A good thing? Joohee, be serious. The last thing I want to do is get with my long-time infatuation, not crush, by forcing him to be my husband.” You took another swig of wine. It was a cheap pink Moscato, perfect for nights like these with Joohee. 

Joohee shoved a pillow in your direction in an effort to gain more room on the couch you had stuffed yourselves onto. The trash reality dating show you had on in the background was showing a rather dramatic fight but you paid it no attention, “It’s just…I haven’t talked to him in the last, what, five years? He probably doesn’t even remember me. And you’ve heard the rumors, I don’t think he’ll be exactly thrilled at giving up his playboy lifestyle just because he has to marry me.”

“What if he doesn’t give that up?”

You stared at Joohee in slight surprise, “What do you mean?”

“Like, what if he says that he doesn’t want to stop hooking up with other people? What will you do?”

Your brows furrowed as you considered the question, “I don’t know, I guess. I mean, I can’t really stop him. I guess I’d just have to live with it.”

Joohee hummed in response before continuing on, “Well, this is happening whether you like it or not. Just try to make it amicable at the least. Maybe it’ll work out, you never know. Just look at Jin oppa.”

Kim Seokjin, Joohee’s older brother and a friend of Min Yoongi’s, was arranged by Joohee’s parents to marry Song Yeonhee, and the two had seemingly fallen in love after a rocky start to their nuptials. You had seen them recently at Yeonhee’s baby shower and she had been glowing, looking unbelievably happy. You recalled the loving gaze that Seokjin had sent her during the party and the pang of envy you felt, knowing that you would likely never get to experience that. 

“Yeah, well,” you responded, “He’s an outlier. Most of these types of marriages don’t work out. I have a feeling I’m going to be a part of that group.”

“You’re too negative, you haven’t even met him for dinner yet. Maybe he’ll surprise you. You just have to give him the chance.”

You mulled over Joohee’s words and nodded, “Yeah, maybe you’re right. I guess I’ll see how Friday goes.”

You weren’t technically late. 

While you still had about 5 minutes before the dinner officially started, you weren’t early, and that was unacceptable by your mother’s standards. A mini emergency at your job had left you scrambling to leave on time, only noticing the late hour when one of your coworkers asked if they should order take-out for the team. After profusely apologizing to your team, they encouraged you to go, practically shooing you out the door, claiming they could handle the situation for now. 

Which left you barely on time to park in the lot outside the ridiculously fancy Japanese restaurant your mother’s assistant, Yujin, had sent to your email earlier that week. You quickly stepped out, smoothing out your dress that you had kept in the backseat of your car and had hastily changed into in the parking lot of your office. Tugging down the hem, you took a moment to look at your reflection in your car window and attempt to look more presentable. Your hair was slightly frizzy but nicely combed back, and you had extremely minimal makeup on from only remembering last minute this morning, and your eyes looked tired. 

You felt tired.

Shaking off your nerves, you headed inside the restaurant giving your family name to the hostess who took you back to a private room where your mother and father were waiting. Your father spared you only a cursory glance before returning his gaze to his phone and your mother looked you up and down before uttering a curt, “Hm.” You held in an eye roll and quickly sat next to them, trying to calm your heart rate for the sure-to-be exhilarating dinner ahead. At six on the dot, you spotted the same hostess leading the Min family towards your table. Your mother stood, welcoming them and urging them to sit down. You stood as well, a little less welcoming, a lot more obligated. 

Mrs. Min looked like the epitome of a rich older woman with dark black hair combed back and glittering jewels lining her ears and neck, complementing the midnight blue gown she had on. Mr. Min was dressed quite similarly to your father, in a simple suit, the only difference being his starkly greying hair providing quite the contrast to his dark blazer. Close behind them was the person you were the most anxious about meeting, Min Yoongi. His pitch-black hair complemented his slightly tanned skin nicely and his feline eyes remained straightforward and untelling. He was dressed in a simple black suit as well with an expensive-looking watch adoring his wrist. His mouth was closed tightly and he did not smile at your mother when she greeted him, not at your father when they sat down across from your family, and certainly not at you.

Your hands nervously played with each other in your lap as you took your seat again. You listened quietly as the mothers exchanged pleasantries and the fathers gruffly greeted each other. You were trying to avoid looking at Yoongi as much as possible.

“So, Y/N,” Mrs. Min started, making you startle to attention, “How old are you now?”

“Twenty-nine, ma’am.”

“Ah, so only a bit younger than Yoongi. That’s good then. How is your work?”

You felt your father stiffen next to you and prayed your discomfort didn’t show on your face, “Good. I’m in the middle of producing a new project with my team.”

“How lovely. Although I’m sure you’ll be leaving that soon after the wedding. You won’t need to work then after all,” Mrs. Min smiled at you. It was hard to read her so you couldn’t tell if she was being genuine or not, though if you had to guess, it was likely the latter. Your job was a point of contention with your family. Choosing to work in a video game production company did not go over well, and if your older brother, Kyungsoo, hadn’t been in line to inherit Seo Industries, you would’ve never been able to keep it. 

You smiled awkwardly in response to Mrs. Min and returned your gaze to the empty plate in front of you. 

As the conversation dragged on, you couldn’t help but steal a glance or two at Yoongi, who was periodically checking his phone and looking permanently bored of the conversation. Not that you could blame him. The dull talk of social circle gossip and work was beginning to get grating, and even the introduction of fancy entrees wasn’t enough to stop your stomach from feeling queasy. 

Yoongi had yet to say one word to you. To be fair, you hadn’t said anything to him either, but he had barely looked in your direction since he entered the private dining room. How exactly were you supposed to start a conversation with that? 

Soon after the desserts came out and were finished, with you politely refusing, feeling like you were going to throw up any second, Mrs. Min suddenly pushed her chair back and stood. She looked down at you and Yoongi and announced, “Well. I think we can leave them to talk on their own for a bit. Why don’t you join us for a drink at our home, Eujin-ssi?”

At the sound of her name, your mother stood, nodding, “Yes, that sounds lovely. Let’s let them get to know each other a bit more.” With that, the parents swiftly gathered their belongings and left, before you could even protest, leaving you staring open-mouthed at the exit. 

Slowly, you turned to face Yoongi and were startled, seeing his eyes already boring into yours. 

“Let’s get one thing straight,” Yoongi stated, his deep and stable voice wrapping around you for the first time that night, “This marriage means nothing to me. It shouldn’t to you either. I’ll do my thing and you do yours. Most importantly, stay out of my life except when necessary. Just because my parents are forcing my hand doesn’t mean I have to adhere to every little thing. Nothing will be changing except for our living situation and a ring on our fingers.”

A little stunned, you could only stutter a passive agreement and watch as he rose and left without sparing you another glance. 

Letting out a deep breath, you closed your eyes, trying to understand what had just transpired. Your heart raced as you quickly stacked up the dishes to be a bit easier for the busboy and quickly made your way to your car. Sitting down in the driver’s seat, you vaguely registered Min Yoongi’s cold demeanor towards you.

It seems he didn’t remember you after all.

The dress you had on was itchy, but you knew if you complained, you would only end up with a sharp stinging on your cheek and tear-filled eyes. You had escaped the boring party with grown-ups and were sitting outside on a stone bench in the garden, trying to remedy your hurt feelings at the hands of the mean, older boy, Hyunsoo. 

He had confidently poked fun at your appearance, saying the dress was a bit too small on you and that your parents should’ve sprung for a size that could fit an elephant instead. He continued on, saying your parents must’ve forgotten to vaccinate you for measles considering all the red spots on your face that were actually acne. Being a tender twelve years of age and going through the worst bits of puberty, his words hit you hard and you quickly ran from the scene into the garden. 

Unable to contain your tears, they slipped down your face in large droplets and soaked into the front of your dress. 

“Hey, you.”

Startled, you looked up to see a boy a couple of years older than you standing in front of you, black hair shining in the light from the garden lamps. His sharp eyes trailed down your tear-stained face. You quickly turned away in shame, not wanting to undergo any more embarrassment tonight. 

“Hey, snot-face.”

You shot him a glare but softened when you saw his hand extended, holding a handkerchief, his face turned slightly away, “Use this. You look ugly while you’re crying.”

You gingerly took the cloth from his hands and blew your nose, noticing him wince out of the corner of your eye. 

“Thank you,” you managed and he only rolled his eyes in response. 

“Yeah, whatever. I think Joohee’s looking for you,” he grumbled before turning on his heel and stalking off back towards the party. 

Confused, your eyes followed after him, not knowing how he knew that Joohee would be looking for you. You unfolded the handkerchief and noticed an elegant embroidering of three letters in black near the bottom, MYG. 

Oh, you realized, Min Yoongi. Joohee’s older brother was friends with him but you had never seen him before. Joohee had described him as kind of rude and quite closed off, but you disagreed. He certainly didn’t seem that bad.

masterlist / next

[edenesth]

The Way to His Heart [5]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 4 | Fic Masterlist | Part 6

"She's severely malnourished, and the injuries on her body tell us that she's undergone quite the abuse, seemingly for years. But I assume you already deduced that much, yes?" Yunho stated as he turned to your husband.

Seonghwa nodded grimly, "Yes, unfortunately. Is there anything you can do to help with all the marks?"

"Given the lack of proper treatment for so long, most of her wounds have only worsened, resulting in permanent scars from various infections. I'll do my best to treat as much as I can, but please understand that I won't be able to eliminate most of these scars." The physician explained, not wanting to give the general any false hope of restoring your skin back to its original form.

Thankfully, Seonghwa wasn't naturally inclined to optimism, and he didn't care to entertain the idea of a miracle. He sighed, "I understand, Yunho. It doesn't matter to me if the scars remain, just... make all the pain go away for her. That's all that matters."

Though possibly surprised, Yunho didn't reveal it in his expression. That might have been the sweetest sentiment he had ever heard from the general. He nodded, "Very well. I'll need a few tools and herbs to prepare her tonic and ointment. Should I stay in the usual quarters until my work is complete?"

Eager to see her mistress recover quickly, the head maid was ready for action. She stood up as soon as her master addressed her, "Eunsook, you know what to do. Organise a team of servants to assist Physician Jung with everything he requires and prepare his usual accommodation."

Without having to be told twice, she swiftly moved to leave Seonghwa's room, "Yes, master! Please come with me, Physician Jung." The general watched as everyone exited his private quarters, leaving him alone with you.

Bringing a chair beside the bed, he seated himself next to you and mustered the courage to hold your hand. Gently rubbing his thumbs over your skin, he felt a pang in his heart, realising that it was far from how the hand of someone your age should be – smooth and flawless. Instead, it bore the marks of what he could only imagine as endless pain.

Reflecting on the unfounded accusations he had hurled at you after your sincere expression of gratitude during dinner, he wished he could turn back time and retract his words, if only it were possible. As if your life hadn't already been hell, he had only made it worse for you.

Suddenly, the notion of you being genuinely happy with The Cold Palace didn't seem so far-fetched. After all, who could fathom the inhumane living conditions you had endured for all those years? However, this realisation brought him no comfort; the fact that your life back in the Jang estate was so bad that you had to express gratitude for being given such a place was heartbreaking.

Seonghwa was jolted from his thoughts when he sensed your weak hand squeezing his. Looking up, he noticed your anguished expression as you cried in your sleep, your voice brokenly uttering, "I'm sorry..."

He felt his heart clench at the sight, prompting him to move and sit closer to you on the bed. Lifting his free hand, he gently wiped away the tears streaming from the corners of your eyes down your cheeks, "Hey, it's alright... You're safe now." He whispered, returning the soft squeeze to your hand.

As if aware of his presence, your eyes snapped open in alarm, and a whimper of fear escaped you as you saw him. For the first time in a long while, the general found no satisfaction in the fear reflected in someone's eyes. You gasped upon realising that the lifeline you were clinging to was him, noticing your hand in his.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" You cried harder when you realised your marks were still fully on display. Pulling your hand away from his, you grasped the sheets around you and clutched them close.

Despite the disappointment he felt at the absence of your hand, he didn't have time to dwell on it with your little panic attack. To ground you, he cupped your face with his hands, "Look at me," and you complied, your trembling eyes meeting his gaze, "Stop apologising and tell me what it is that you're sorry for."

"I-I'm sorry for all this," You gestured miserably to your own body, "I'm hideous. I'm tainted. I'm n-not good enough to be your wife, a-and I never will be. I-I don't deserve happiness... I was foolish to think I could find it h-here... with you."

Shaking his head, he caressed your hollow cheekbones, staring firmly into your eyes, "No, you listen to me. Never think that again. I forbid you from believing you're hideous or tainted or anything ridiculous like that. Whoever dares say you're not good enough to be my wife can go to hell because you're the only one I want. You deserve all the happiness in the world, and I will give you just that. You're not foolish to think that. I'll prove it to you."

Leaving you speechless, Seonghwa wrapped his arms around you before you could muster a response, pulling you close. The sudden warmth felt foreign but good, and you nestled your face into his broad shoulder, allowing yourself to relish the moment.

Am I dreaming? Feels too good to be true.

Marvelling at the luxurious interior of this beautiful room, you couldn't shake the feeling that this was all a product of your imagination. How could any of this be real?

The last memory you had was the general storming angrily into your room and ripping your hanbok open. After seeing you in your truest form, how could he have ended up acting this way towards you? It didn't make sense; he should have been disgusted and hostile. Instead, here he was, seemingly accepting you.

Exhausted from a lifetime of pain, you lacked the energy to question the reality of your situation. Even if it were just a dream, you decided to embrace it and savour the experience. On the other hand, if this was reality, you knew you had the rest of your life to understand his change of heart.

All that really mattered now was that the pain and the suffering stopped. If Seonghwa truly accepts you as his wife, the reason behind it doesn't seem important. You would simply be grateful for his kindness, or perhaps sympathy—whatever it was, you welcomed it wholeheartedly.

So long as there's no more pain.

With that decision made, you set aside the lingering questions in your mind and focused on how comforting it felt to be held in a warm embrace like this. A contented sigh escaped you as you whispered against him, "Thank you, my lord."

He responded by tightening his hold around your frame, gently cradling the back of your head with a hand, "No, don't thank me yet. I haven't done anything to deserve that from you. I've been horrible, the absolute worst. And for that, I'd like to apologise. I'm sorry, my dear. I promise you, I'll make up for it."

When you attempted to voice your protest, he halted you with a knowing shake of his head, "I know I may seem like an angel in comparison to the people who have... done all those horrendous things to you, but I won't lie and say that I'm proud of myself for the way I acted. You're important too, okay? You're the general's wife now, and I want you to remember that. I won't let anyone disrespect you again."

With a grateful nod, tears of relief welled up in your eyes. This transformed version of Seonghwa before you was a stark departure from the one you initially encountered. You didn't think he was capable of being so soft and caring, but you had no complaints; you could certainly get used to this.

"Oh, mistress! You're finally awake!" Eunsook exclaimed, standing at the room entrance with the physician in tow. This caused you and your husband to break eye contact. The general cleared his throat and averted his gaze, a faint blush tinting his cheeks when he realised the two had witnessed your shared intimate moment.

Yunho suppressed his smile and respectfully bowed at you, "Good day, Lady Park. I'm Physician Jung; it's nice to properly meet you." Blinking, you struggled to come up with a response, gaping at his handsome face.

While the elderly woman giggled at your loss of words, Seonghwa was less than amused at your reaction to the doctor's appearance. He scoffed lightly, finding it ridiculous that you were here gazing at another man after he had just poured his heart out to you.

How dare you be unfaithful this soon?

Upon catching the enticing scent of food, your eyes swiftly moved away from Yunho's face. Your face lit up as you finally noticed the bowl of piping hot congee in Eunsook's hands.

"Oh dear, you must be famished. With Physician Jung's help, we concocted this healthy meal for you. I know it's not very appetising, with all the medicinal herbs in it, but you must get better before indulging in tastier foods, alright?" She smiled encouragingly at you.

You shook your head as she approached with the bowl, "Not appetising? It already smells and looks better than anything I've ever had. Thank you for the food." You murmured, eagerly waiting as she fed you.

Unbeknownst to you, your innocent response had affected Seonghwa more than you realised, and it also surprised the physician. While Yunho had heard a bit about your situation from the head maid, he wasn't fully aware of the extent of it, and hearing it directly from you was truly heart-wrenching. That definitely explained the severe malnourishment.

The congee was gone within moments and Eunsook couldn't help but coo, "Well done, mistress." You bit your lip shyly, feeling embarrassed for devouring it in such an unladylike manner, but nothing mattered the moment the food touched your lips.

As if on cue, a group of servants arrived with a fresh set of clothes and bath supplies originally intended for you earlier in the morning. Turning toward the two men, the head maid bowed and gestured toward the door, "Master, Physician Jung, if you wouldn't mind stepping out. We shall bathe and change the mistress."

Yunho nodded, "Certainly, I'll be getting back to work then," and immediately excused himself, reassured to know you had finished your first sitting of medicine.

The general stood up from his spot, "Alright, Eunsook. I'll leave her to you for now. Take care of her for me." He said, moving to press a soft kiss onto your forehead. The action caused your eyes to widen, and all the servants internally squealed, shocked to see their master being so affectionate for the first time.

Your heart swelled as you watched him leave, his back suddenly seeming so reliable. It was hard to believe that he was your husband, yours. How lucky were you to be wedded to Park Seonghwa?

"Come, mistress. Let's get you cleaned up."

You observed with intrigue as the servants rushed around to prepare a bath for you, an experience you had never had before. However, as they began to assist in stripping off your clothes, you realised you had forgotten all about the marks on your skin earlier. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, you pushed the hands of the servants away and shook your head.

Reassuring you, they withdrew their hands with warm smiles, "It's okay, mistress. Please know we are all on your side; nobody here will disrespect or look down on you. You are now the official wife of General Park, and we will work our hardest to serve you."

The head maid nodded in agreement behind them, their sincerity deeply touching your heart, "Thank you for your kindness." You whispered, finally allowing them to help you out of your hanbok. They handled you with gentleness, and it took you some time to get used to it—finally not being manhandled like you always had been.

After they finished scrubbing you clean, the other maids momentarily left you alone to enjoy the bath, touched by your endearing demeanour—constantly expressing gratitude for every little thing. To them, it felt almost like caring for a child. Exchanging excited glances, none of them could hide their pleasure in having such a sweet mistress.

With your presence, perhaps the general's anger could finally subside, and the estate could experience some peaceful days. If only you knew the hope you had brought with your arrival.

Eunsook lingered in the background, cleaning and tidying up, while you played with the rose petals floating around the bath water. You couldn't recall the last time your life had been so relaxing, so peaceful. Turning to the elderly woman working nearby, you gathered the courage to ask, "This... this isn't a dream, is it?"

Setting down her supplies, she approached you with a motherly smile on her face, "I assure you, mistress, it is not. This is all very real. Perhaps the master's sudden shift in behaviour can be confusing."

She gently held onto your hand, "Trust me, he is actually not such a bad person at all. There's a good reason why all the servants here have been with him for a long time. Though he believes it is simply because of the good pay, it isn't. He just... has a hard time trying to express his feelings. Let's just say master did not exactly grow up living an easy life. He struggles to show his love because he has not been given nearly enough of it while growing up."

That sounds a little like me too.

Giving your hand a soft squeeze, she added, "And now, with you here, it seems we can all hope that things will change for the better, for master and for you, mistress."

"M-me? Better because of... me?" You whispered, returning the squeeze, and she nodded, "Yes, mistress. All because of you. You are our light and our hope. Thank you for coming to us. You're so important to everyone here, you know that? Never let anyone tell you otherwise."

You didn't realise you were crying until you felt a gentle touch as the elderly woman wiped away the tears rolling down your cheeks, assuring you, "No matter what happens, I promise you won't be alone anymore from now on."

Standing in the centre of the room later on, it almost felt like a dream come true as the servants attentively assisted you in getting dressed. For once, you felt genuinely cared for and respected, a stark contrast to your previous experiences at home, where most servants treated you as less than human.

Turning to face the mirror, a gasp escaped you as you gazed at your reflection, "You look beautiful, mistress. Master is going to love it." A servant exclaimed, admiring your natural beauty. Your eyes widened as you took in the pleasant appearance before you, surprised that despite the visibility of your scars, you could look appealing. It appeared that with proper care, hair, and clothing, you could indeed appear somewhat pretty.

I guess all hope is not lost.

"We'll be taking our leave now, mistress." The rest of the maids bowed in a line before you as they finished up. Panic crossed their faces when they saw you about to return their bows, and Eunsook stopped you in time, saying, "Oh dear, mistress! We'll have to work on that. Please remember you do not have to bow to any of the servants here, or anywhere, for the matter."

You nodded, "I'm sorry, I'll remember that next time."

She chuckled and shook her head, "That too, you do not need to apologise to us. We are here to serve you." The maids nodded to signal that the elderly woman was right, smiling encouragingly at you before bowing one last time and leaving to return to their other tasks.

"Now, there's still a bit more time before dinner. What would you like to do until then, mistress?" The head maid asked.

You blinked, realising you didn't know how to answer. You never had the luxury to do as you pleased; all your supposed spare time was spent rotting in your prison cell of a room. What did your stepsisters usually do? Right, make your life hell. That's what.

What do young ladies around your age do?

Suddenly remembering Eunsook's earlier words about having to work on what you should and shouldn't do, you perked up, "I... I wish to learn. I want to be a proper lady, to be a proper wife for the general."

You stared, puzzled, as the elderly woman tried to hide her cheeky grin, "Well, the master's study is full of all sorts of knowledgeable books. Maybe you can find something in there. Would you like to go there now, mistress?"

Finding nothing wrong with the suggestion, you agreed. The next thing you knew, you were left standing alone by the entrance to the study she had been talking about. She had explained that she needed to assist the physician with an important task before hastily disappearing.

Not wanting to be impolite, you knocked on the door and waited for a response, "May I please enter, my lord?" After a moment of silence, you knocked again, only to be met with silence.

Maybe he's not inside.

With a shrug, you cautiously pushed the door open. Your eyes widened when you immediately spotted Seonghwa seated at his desk, deeply engrossed in his reading with a slight furrow of his brows. Despite planning to leave, you found yourself rooted to the spot, admiring how attractive he looked, even when only sitting there.

As if sensing someone watching him, his eyes immediately shot up in alert, only to soften when he realised it was you. Caught off guard, you sputtered and bowed repeatedly, "I-I'm sorry, my lord! I didn't mean to spy on you or anything like that. Eunsook told me I could occupy myself with some books in here until dinner, and I—"

Too busy staring down at your feet, you didn't notice he had been making his way towards you. You gasped when his shoes came into view, looking up to find him right in front of you with a gentle smile on his face, "Relax, I'm not angry. You're welcome to spend time with me; I'd be happy to accompany you."

Looking at you closely now, his heart raced as he realised how stunning you appeared in this natural state, even more so than with a face full of heavy makeup, "You... you look beautiful, by the way." He remarked, watching with admiration as a blush tinted your cheeks when you quietly thanked him.

As you bit your lips shyly, he found it hard to look away, feeling a desire to kiss you that he had never experienced with any woman before, "M-my lord?" You stuttered, feeling flustered by the sudden attention he was paying to your lips.

With a hand outstretched, he cleared his throat and gestured for you to join him, "R-right, let me know what you're looking for. This is no royal library, but I'm sure I'll have whatever you need."

You gulped, shyly placing your hand in his waiting one, "I was hoping to learn more about lady etiquette. I... I want to be a proper lady and wife for you, my lord." His heart melted at that; despite the less-than-warm welcome he had given you, you were still willing to work hard and be better for him.

"Very well, come with me." Tightening his hold on your hand, he gently led you towards the bookshelves lining the side of his study.

As you passed by his desk, you couldn't help but do a double take at the reading material he had been so focused on just earlier. You'd recognise the Jang family crest anywhere.

"Wait, isn't that—"

Before you could inquire about it, Seonghwa was already in the process of tidying up the space and simultaneously putting the book away, "Sorry for the mess. Now, which area of lady etiquette did you want to start with first?" He asked, gesturing to the entire row of books dedicated to the topic.

"O-oh, I haven't really thought about that. I wasn't aware there were so many different areas. Gosh, I have much to learn..." You trailed off, your mind already reeling as you tried to figure out which area would be best to begin with.

He sighed in relief, successfully redirecting the conversation. His heart nearly stopped when he spotted the recognition in your eyes upon seeing your family records. The general didn't want to have to interview you in order to delve into your past; he didn't want you to relive any nightmares. More importantly, he didn't want to worry you by revealing any of the plans he had in store for your family.

« Preview of Part 6 »

Jongho entered his master's study that night, panting and puzzled to find the desk filled with books on... lady etiquette?

"S-sir?"

Seonghwa snapped up immediately, catching the assistant's appalled gaze on your books. He chuckled, "Oh, those are just your mistress' books. She said she wants to learn to be a proper lady and wife... can you believe that?"

Without himself noticing, the general had an almost dreamy look on his face as he smiled, lost in thoughts of you, unaware that he was letting it show on his face, revealing his affection for you.

"I see. I'm sure the mistress will no doubt make you proud with her studies soon." Jongho responded with a knowing grin, pleased to see his master being soft for a change, the intimidating General Park momentarily gone, all because of his wife.

Recalling his aide's purpose for being here this late, Seonghwa quickly turned serious, "Well, have you managed to find anything?"

The assistant immediately straightened up, moving closer to the general and lowering his voice, "I have, sir. With the funds you provided, I hired a private investigator willing to infiltrate the Jang estate. Fortunately, one of the older servants didn't take much to crack; she told him just about everything."

With a clenched fist, your husband asked for confirmation, "Well? Was it her father?"

Nodding, Jongho's expression turned grim, "It was as you assumed, sir. It was him, his wife, his stepdaughters, and even the servants. But there's... more. We've uncovered new information, the minister... he truly is despicable."

Sorry, this part took a little longer! Happy to report that I'm feeling much better! I was out all day with my family and immediately got to work finalising this as soon as I got home!

Thank you so much for 800+ followers! And as always, thank you for reading and I'm so excited to hear all your thoughts (or even predictions for what's to come😈), I promise I won't spoil anything in my replies! <3

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All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[milaeth]

୨୧┊ 𝐈. 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒. ( charles leclerc )

ꖛ ─ you’re reading part one ∿ part two ∿ part three ( coming soon )

✧.* pairings ─ charles leclerc x fem! singer! reader

✧.* genre ─ social media au ⨾ fluff & chaotic

✧.* summary ─ in which your best friend George gets fed up with watching you and Charles secretly yearn for each other while claiming to be just friends. so, when you lose a bet to George, he takes control of your social media accounts for 24 hours, using the opportunity to help you make a move on your crush.

✧.* face claim ─ suki waterhouse

✧.* warnings ─ none, this is just really chaotic lol

✧.* mily’s thoughts ─ this is my first time writing a social media au so pls give me feedback! also, this is not proofread! btw feel free to leave requests <33

˗ˏ ➶ IMESSAGE ➜ w/ princess george . ✧ ˚

princess george: You know what, y/n?

y/n: no

princess george: I have the feeling that i’m gonna get a podium today!

y/n: what made you think that💀 not to crush your dreams princess, but i heavily doubt that

princess george: Wow, you’re so supportive. Why should I not be able to get a podium??

y/n: keyword: shitty car

princess george: Oh, yeah, I forgot about that… But i don’t care, i will manifest it (that’s what you always do, isn’t it?)

y/n: yeah sure..

princess george: You don’t believe me? Fine! Let’s make a bet then.

y/n: it’s way too early for this shit

princess george: Blahblahblah🙄

y/n: 💀 george i’m busy

princess george: Busy writing sad love songs about Charles or what??

y/n: …

princess george: Exactly. Now let’s do this!

y/n: why are you so eager to make this bet

princess george: Oh I just want to rub in your face that I was right afterwards

y/n: lovely.. but fine, start talking ig

princess george: Finally!

princess george: I predict that i’m gonna finish P3. Your prediction?

y/n: p11❤️

princess george: And now realistically…

y/n: p6

princess george: Thanks.

y/n: and what are the drawbacks?

princess george: I don’t know, maybe the loser has to hand over their main social media accounts to the winner for 24 hours. The loser isn’t allowed to use their main accounts in that time, only their private ones.

y/n: absolutely not

princess george: Aww you’re a scaredy cat?

y/n: no i just don’t trust you with my social media accounts💀

princess george: Okay fair enough

princess george: But c’mon, it’s gonna be fun! Only for 24h

y/n: fine but the winner can’t post anything too bad

princess george: Sure, sure. So, deal?

y/n: deal! and good luck (i hope you dnf)

princess george: Lovely as always

[ seen 12:03pm ]

georgerussell63

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc and 1,056,386 others

georgerussell63 P3!!!! We keep on moving🔥🔥

view all 649 comments…

user471 was a close call but congratulations!

user172 carlos deserved it more, you literally pushed him off

user93 he didn’t push carlos off but okay💀

user425 so happy for you!

user65 it should’ve been carlos

charles_leclerc congrats on p3 mate!!🔥

georgerussell63 Congratulations on P2! I nearly got you, watch your back next time😉

charles_leclerc let’s highlight the word “nearly”😉

user976 so happy to see you on the podium again🫶

yourusername still convinced you bewitched half of the grid to let you pass them

georgerussell63 Creative but no, I just had a great motivation😊😊

˗ˏ ➶ IMESSAGE ➜ w/ princess george . ✧ ˚

princess george: Well well well, look who lost our bet…

y/n: 😐

princess george: C’mon give me the password to all your main accounts so i can log in😁

y/n: what if i were suicidal.

princess george: Honestly sounds like a you problem.

y/n: fuck you.

princess george: Still waiting for the passwords😊

y/n: fine, but remember, only for 24 hours!

princess george: Yeah, yeah. Now give them to me.

y/n: … insta is “503_UedusEiotSrk03” & twitter is “eZiyjDbbvwKi_zu_14806”

princess george: Damn, those are some ugly passwords!

y/n: are you seriously judging my PASSWORDS rn💀💀

[ seen 4:20pm ]

scuderiaferrari

liked by charles_leclerc, yourusername and 1,385,052 others

scuderiaferrari That’s ice cold🧊🥶 #F1 #P2 #Charles16

tagged: charles_leclerc

view all 6,175 comments…

user47 dayuumm🤭

user21 no one could ever get me into one of those things😭

yourusername That’s a sight I could get used to🥵🔥

landonorris don’t ever say or write that again.

urusername_alt🔒 @yourusername you really make me want to kms

yourusername @urusername_alt🔒 Aw, appreciate it❤️😉

landonorris y/n have you officially lost it?? why are you talking to yourself💀

user275 did we all see that or am i crazy💀

user164 yep we all saw that💀💀

yourusername

liked by zendaya, bellahadid, charles_leclerc and 18,364,187 others

yourusername "eyes that confess, while lips whisper 'just friends.'" my new single “just friends” is out now!!🤍 (yes, another single about my crush😘)

view all 369,270 comments…

user937 THIS IS SO GOOD AND HEARTBREAKING WTF

lewishamilton already on repeat🔥

user25 i cried my eyes out to this.

landonorris this is a BANGER

user12 how is this so cute yet so sad💀

˗ˏ ➶ IMESSAGE ➜ w/ princess george . ✧ ˚

y/n: HPW COULD YOU

y/n: I GO TO BED AND THIS IS WHAT YOU DO??

princess george: i have no idea what you’re talking about.

y/n: OH PLEASE YOU KNOW DAMN WELL WHAT YOU DID

princess george: Uhmmm nope.

y/n: YOU POSTED ONE OF MY DRAFTS

y/n: AND NOT JUST ANY DRAFT

y/n: NO, YOU POSTED THE ONE ABT MY SINGLE💀

y/n: IM GETTING EMAILS FROM MY PR TEAM BC I WAS SUPPOSED TO POST THAT ON TUESDAY

princess george: Oh, yeah, my finger slipped🫢🫢

y/n: your finger must’ve slipped multiple times then bc the caption is somehow a different one💀 not to forget the twitter thing

princess george: Oops?

princess george: Besides, I only added one sentence.

y/n: are you fucking serious

princess george: It was an accident.

y/n: ACCIDENT MY ASS YOU EMBARRASSED ME IN FRONT OF EVERYONE!!! AND TOLD PEOPLE ITS ABOUT CHARLES WTF

princess george: To be fair that was predictable when we set the rules to this bet. And I didn’t directly say the single is about charles.

y/n: you did directly say that💀

y/n: istg i’m gonna beat you up the next time i see you

princess george: Should I be worried..?

y/n: definitely.

y/n: you give me so many seasons to kill you. this is literally the 19th one

princess george: Make it 20…

y/n: george. what do you mean.

princess george: I might’ve given you another season. On accident!!

princess george: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cu-IkZstViy/?img_index=1

y/n: oh no

f1wags

163,948 likes

f1wags Love is in the air, and our radar has picked up some juicy rumors! It seems like the friendship between the singer Y/N L/N and Charles Leclerc is turning into something more than just a casual relationship. Get ready for the scoop as we take a closer look at the blossoming relationship between these two stars!

Y/N and Charles first crossed paths through their mutual friend George Russell, but it seems their connection has deepened over time. On late Sunday, Y/N dropped a bombshell by announcing her upcoming single to her social media followers, accompanied by a captivating caption. The last sentence read, "another single about my crush😘," which made fans curious and hopeful for more.

The plot thickened when Y/N responded to a tweet and saying that the song was indeed inspired by her "bae," none other than talented Formula 1 driver Charles Leclerc. The revelation left followers shaking with excitement, and it's clear that the connection between the two goes deeper than mere friendship.

But that's not all! Observant watchers have noticed the undeniable chemistry between Y/N and Charles, catching glimpses of their interactions when they thought no one was watching. Ah, the power of love! Charles might have forgotten that the public has eyes everywhere, but we certainly haven't missed a beat.

The burning question on everyone's mind is: what's behind their friendship? Is it just a playful crush or something much more intense? Could Y/N L/N be a new f1 wag? Time will tell, but for now we can't help but root for this potential power couple.

So stay tuned, gossip lovers, because there's more to come from Y/N L/N and Charles Leclerc. Whether it's a steamy romance or just a close friendship, we'll be here keeping our eyes peeled for any hint of what's going on behind the scenes. Love may be a game of mystery, but they've forgotten that we're experts at unraveling the truth. Keep your eyes open, folks!

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user79 y’all really don’t know how to mind your own business

user943 why are people making such a big deal out of this like they’re just friends and y/n was probably just drunk or smth when she said those things🙄🙄 ITS NOT THAT SERIOUS!!

user27 you guys really don’t have a life huh💀

user375 who tf is this blondie

user50 girl stfu that’s literally my wife

user697 AAAA i really hope this is real bc they’re so cute💖

˗ˏ ➶ IMESSAGE ➜ w/ princess george . ✧ ˚

y/n: 💀💀💀

princess george: I’m starting to feel bad now..

y/n: good, you should💀

y/n: i’m gonna apologize to charles now

princess george: Why, It’s not your fault.

y/n: you’re right, it’s yours. but you said all those things with my account so it looks like it’s my fault lol

princess george: I’m really sorry, I took it a little far!

y/n: a little is good💀 but dw it’s okay, i know you only meant it jokingly, i’ll tell everyone it was you and not me once the 24 hours are over

princess george: 👍 Good luck talking to Charles. And don’t forget to confess to him before I do it for you😉😉

[ seen 1:24pm ]

∿ people who might want to get tagged ─ @81astri @cs55version @lorarri ( my taglist if you want to get tagged in my works )

don’t forget to like, comment & reblog (it’s very much appreciated <3).

© milaeth | 2023

[asahicore]

kiwi and layla - sjy

pairing. jake x fem!reader synopsis. in which you mistake jake’s backpack for your own, making you each go home with the other’s bag. both of you are too curious for your own good, so you quickly find out that you excel in the subject the other is failing - a mutual tutoring agreement ensues, and it turns into much more than what you had expected. genre. high school au, f2l, lots of fluff and some angst too, f2l, shy reader x outgoing jake warnings. food & swearing, mention of parent death and divorce, kms jokes, jake being stupid but also really cute (lmk if i've missed any!) word count. 26.3k a/n. this is part of the unexpected collab !!! go check out the other fics and caelin thank u for hosting <333 hope u guys like this one, it took me a while but i had so so much fun writing it !!! i love my jakey in here he's a little bit confused but he's got the spirit. @zreamy thanks for being the world's awesomest beta reader and a decent friend ig... 2 baddies wouldnt be the same without you... lifeguard wet body sunghoon coming soon guys dont miss it! as always pls remember how important reblogs and feedback is for us writers!!! it's what keeps us going <3 enjoy!!

listen to the playlist!

This was not your backpack. 

In your defense, it looked so similar to yours - scratch that, it was the exact same as yours - that you couldn’t possibly have been able to tell the difference between the two bags until you’d opened one of them. Just a basic black Eastpak that probably a hundred other kids in your school owned with nothing to tell them apart, because you hadn’t had the mind to add a little something to it and make it recognizable. You hadn’t really needed to - your backpack was always on your back, next to your seat or in your locker. There was no way you might lose it or mistake it with another.

Until today, obviously. Instead of having a chill last class before spring break like every other teacher, your psycho math teacher Mr Choi had decided to give you a major test on this otherwise beautiful Friday afternoon. While other students watched a movie or played Kahoot, you were stuck in a cold classroom with algebra questions in front of you. Mr Choi had argued that this would be better than having a test after the holidays and ruining your time off with studying, but a test was a test, and math was math, so you hated the idea anyway. 

To eliminate all cheating possibilities, Mr Choi made his students only take a pencil and eraser with them, leave their bag at the back of the classroom and put their phone in a box he kept on his desk. Plus, with his hawk eyes watching intently, there was no way to sneak answers on a small sheet of paper or even on your palm. 

When the test was over, your brain was so fried and you were so eager to get the hell out of there that you didn’t even notice the two identical black backpacks next to each other, you just grabbed the first one you saw, not even questioning that it might not be yours.

And indeed, yours it was not. From your snooping around, you quickly found out it belonged to one Jake Sim. 

You knew Jake. Although you’d been attending the same school for the past three years, you could probably count the number of times you’d talked on one hand - but you knew him. Or at least, you knew of him. You knew that he was good at STEM subjects and that he was on the soccer team; you knew he was a really sweet guy and was easy to talk to, even for someone shy like you. 

Most importantly, you knew he was friends with Park Sunghoon. This was important because you had liked Park Sunghoon since the moment you’d laid eyes on him - or rather, your whole friend group had. It might’ve sounded extremely odd to others, but you and your friends had a few random people at school you liked to keep tabs on or create backstories for, and Sunghoon, because of his dashing looks that had struck all four of you in your first week of freshman year, was one of your victims. Well, you liked to think of them as characters on a TV show rather than victims, but to each his own. Your other characters included that popular sophomore who already considered herself a celebrity because of her ten thousand followers on TikTok anyway, the French and Spanish teachers you were sure had a thing going on, and that one guy in Yena’s biology class that only showed up every two weeks but always looked stoned (hat guy, Chaewon liked to call him, even you’d never once seen him with a hat on). It was all harmless, really - none of you ever actually went up and talked to them, just discussed them among yourselves.

Perhaps Sunghoon was different, because each of you had had a class with him at some point, so you’d all had at least shared a word with him. You probably hadn’t talked to him more times than you’d talked to Jake, so the information you knew about him was pretty surface-level - he was an ice skater, but everyone knew that, and he was shy like you, which was immediately noticeable. He also had one of the most handsome faces you’d ever seen. But again, everyone who saw him knew that.

You, Yena and Chaewon had debated whether one of you should just go ahead and make a move (Hyewon didn’t participate because she already had a boyfriend, but she was all for approaching the boy). You guessed you could describe what you felt towards Sunghoon as a sort of crush, even if it was one you shared with your friends - you found him cute, and you got nervous when he was around. But you were more the watch-from-afar-and-pine type, so you were satisfied with liking him from a distance. You didn’t think you actually had the guts to strike a conversation with him - that was more Chaewon’s thing.

However, this didn’t mean you weren’t curious about the contents of his best friend’s backpack. Your being shy didn’t mean you weren’t interested in other people’s lives - if anything, you were quite nosy. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but you were just a regular teenage girl, so this was fine, right? After just a few minutes of snooping, you found out Jake Sim wasn’t hiding any big state secrets in his Eastpak, anyway. Just some textbooks, notebooks, and a lot of single sheets of paper. It was pretty messy in there. 

Your idea of him being good at STEM subjects was correct - he kept all of his graded tests in the sleeve pocket of his math notebook, and there was not a single one that had received a note under 95. He even seemed to be doing some extracurricular exercises - there were formulae that were completely unfamiliar to you and that you were sure you hadn’t done in class. You found it slightly insane, but that might have just been because you despised math and wouldn’t understand why someone would want to do more of it than was required of them. 

His English homework was another story. His essays had more red from the teacher’s pen than his own black ink, and from the grades on his reading comprehension tests, you highly doubted he’d actually read any of the assigned books. You weren’t in the same English class but apparently had the same teacher, Ms Park, so you were studying the same thing. You couldn’t help but cringe as you read his answers on a Pride and Prejudice reading test - he seemingly kept mixing the sisters up, assigning actions and character traits to Lydia that clearly belonged to Jane. At least he somewhat got Darcy right, writing that “he’s probably not as bad as he looks,” with no further explanation. 

As you aimlessly flipped through his English notebook, curious about the way he took his notes - or if he even took any - you noticed some scribbles in the margins. Looking closer, some of them were in his handwriting while others were in an unfamiliar one. It looked like some sort of conversation, so you assumed the other writing belonged to his deskmate. You also did this with your friends in classes where the teacher was very strict about no chatting in class.

dude coach said if I fail any of my classes I would be out of the team, you read Jake’s handwriting.

Wait seriously????

yeah and I suck at english so Im scared it might actually happen

You just need to study more bro

bro I DO but this shit is hard

Then find someone to help you

neither of you guys is that good in that subject either tho

Ok ouch but also just find someone else then

bro who

IDK man 

Y/N maybe ? she’s good at English and she’s nice so she might say yes 

there you go about y/n again dude MAYBE you ask HER to teach you some sonnets

Shut up you’re the one who needs help dumbass

whatever isn’t it weird just asking her randomly though like i dont want her to feel like she has to say yes

Lol if she sees your grades she might do it out of pity

fuck u man

You were surprised to see your own name written there - it felt weird knowing that Jake and his friend were talking about you, for some reason. And what if that friend was Sunghoon? You had a hard time believing he not only knew you existed, but thought of you as good at English and nice. You liked to think both of these things were true. 

He was also spot-on about saying you would agree to helping out Jake in those subjects, but what he got wrong was thinking you’d do it out of pity. Clearly, you and Jake were in very similar positions. You didn’t have any sort of club you’d be kicked out of if you failed a class, but it sure as hell wouldn’t look good on your college applications, so you needed to get your math grades up. 

Jake and you both desperately needed something the other person could help with, so you had a feeling he wouldn’t turn down the offer that was brewing in your head.

—

This was not Jake’s backpack.

He noticed it right away - it was much heavier than his own and the straps were tighter around his shoulders than they should be. He looked inside for some clues about who it might belong to, and luckily, the first thing he found was a journal that had Y/N’S DIARY written on the cover page in big, pink letters. 

Unluckily, however, he’d also noticed that you had practically sprinted out of the classroom as soon as the bell rang, and indeed, you were already far gone when he tried looking for you around school. He had to get to soccer practice anyway, so he put the issue to the side for the time being.

When he got home, he had to shower then have dinner, so it wasn’t until 8 p.m. that he remembered he had your backpack. He had meant to text you straightaway about it, and he knew it was wrong to look into someone’s belongings, but he couldn’t help himself, especially when his best friend Sunghoon had liked you for ages. Maybe this was an opportunity to find out more about you.

Your mind-blowing grades in English don’t come as much of a surprise to him, and after reading through your most recent essay, he thought you definitely deserved them. Your essay was on a Shakespeare play he had never heard of - you apparently also had Ms Park for English, and he didn’t know she was doing Shakespeare in class, so he wondered for a second if you were actually crazy enough to read another book and study it. As if 300 pages of Jane Austen weren’t enough as it was. 

What shocked him were your math grades. It was like looking into a fucked-up mirror: while you excelled at English, you sucked at math; while he excelled at math, he sucked at English. You were just as close to failing your math class as he was at failing English.

Now that he thought about it, maybe Sunghoon’s idea hadn’t been so dumb - you could help him out, and he had an actual argument as to why you should, rather than just using pity on you.

As he put your stuff back in your bag, he was reminded of something - your diary. For some reason, the pretty floral pattern on the cover made him feel even worse for opening the journal in the first place, but he did it anyway. Either you’d only just picked up the habit of writing in a diary or you had finished your previous one recently, but this one seemed pretty new, as only about ten pages had been filled with your neat handwriting. Judging from the dates at the top of almost every page, you wrote in there everyday, and Jake only felt even worse that you hadn’t been able to write in it that day.

Still, he flicked to the first page and started reading. And he read and read, unable to take his eyes away from your diary. He thought he wouldn’t have cared much and a page would have satisfied his curiosity, but the way you wrote about the people around you and about yourself fascinated him. Basic high school things like friend drama and annoying teachers actually became interesting through your words. You didn’t use particularly complicated sentences or unheard-of words, on the contrary, you used simple language, and that spoke a lot more to Jake than any of the classics he’d attempted to read for class. 

And then, he saw an all too familiar name in an entry dated from just a few days ago. 

I sat next to Sunghoon today. It was during physics and both of our desk partners were absent, so Mrs Kim made me change seats. She always does this, and I used to wonder whether she hated to see an empty seat or to see a student sitting on their own, but whatever the reason, today, I was just happy about it. This isn’t our first time sitting next to each other in class, but I was still nervous, since I wasn’t expecting it. I hope he couldn’t feel the awkwardness practically oozing off of me or the way I very obviously struggled with the exercises (obviously, anything to do with math is not my forte). We shared my textbook because he’d forgotten his, and he showed me his notes when he saw I couldn’t keep up with Mrs Kim as she told us what to write down. We only exchanged a few words but I was satisfied when class was over. It’s odd, because you’d think someone would want to talk to the person they like and get to know them more, but I don’t feel that with Sunghoon. Maybe it’s because we’re both so introverted, and he seems to have just as hard a time as I do starting conversations, so I’ve sort of accepted our silent fate. I’m fine just continuing to steal glances at him from across the cafeteria. 

After that, there were a few more pages of writing up until yesterday's entry, but it was the only mention of Sunghoon. Jake had apparently been wrong to think that a girl’s diary would be full of rantings about her crush and things along the lines of “omg, he looked at me today”. 

But you had very clearly referred to Sunghoon as the person you liked, and Jake wasn’t going to let that go so easily. This was precious information that he held in his hands now, so he had to figure out how to deal with it properly for your sake as well as his friend’s.

Turns out there was more he could help you with than just algebra.

—

Seeing Jake Sim in a setting other than school was slightly odd, if you were being completely honest. 

You had just been about to text him about the backpack mix-up when you’d received a message from the man himself, asking if you could meet up the next day to exchange them. In response, you’d asked where you should meet, thinking he’d offer either his house or yours, or some halfway point between them, but he surprised you by proposing some café in the center of town. They have good hot chocolate there, he’d said, and that had been enough to convince you. 

And also I have something I want to talk to you about. 

Your stomach had turned at this message - what on Earth could Jake Sim need to discuss with you had been your first thought, and then you realized you also had plans you wanted to share with him. So his idea of going to a café was actually good for you, too.

You’d only been waiting for about five minutes when he appeared at the café, red and panting from seemingly sprinting to his destination. 

“Y/N, I’m sooo sorry,” he immediately said when he saw you waiting. “I was planning to be early, but when I got on the bus I realized I literally forgot your bag, so I had to go back but the next bus wasn’t for another twenty minutes so I just ran the whole way here, and now I’m all sweaty, and I’m late, and I’m really sorry.”

He’d rushed through his sentence and was breathing heavily as he looked at you expectantly, waiting for your answer. He seemed so genuinely sorry for such a small thing that after your surprise faded, you started laughing. It was his turn to be surprised, and he immediately stopped talking at the sound of your soft giggles.

“It’s okay, Jake. I haven’t even been waiting five minutes,” you explained, smiling. “Let’s just go in, yeah?”

Jake’s heart did something weird just then, and the feeling was so unfamiliar and confusing that he decided to promptly ignore it. As if in a daze, he stood still for a couple of seconds until the sound of a bell ringing, the one the café had on its doors to signify the entrance or exit of a customer, snapped him out of it. He followed you into the shop, let you order and pay for you both (“I’m the one who took the wrong bag, it’s the least I can do,” you’d said) and sat across from you at a booth in the back.

You gave each other your respective bags back, then started chatting as you sipped on your hot chocolates (Jake had been right - they really were delicious). He was surprisingly easy to talk to, and whether he sensed you were a reserved person or was just naturally talkative, you liked that he both managed to do most of the talking and ask you loads of questions at once. Usually, you wouldn’t have really cared to listen to someone go on and on about their passion for soccer and the recent game that their team had won, but for some reason, you were hooked on Jake’s every word. The way his eyes widened in excitement as he recounted the winning goal he scored, the way the volume of his voice decreased as he filled you in on the team gossip even though no one was listening to your conversation, the way his grin turned into a proud smirk as he mentioned his coach congratulating him - every single one of his actions had you mesmerized. You’d never seen anyone so expressive in their speech, never seen anyone punctuate every sentence with a movement or a facial expression. It was just fun, listening to him.

Even when he didn’t talk, he stayed expressive. He asked you whether you did anything outside of school, and he listened intently as you told him about the theater group you’re in, humming and nodding and laughing at all the right moments. Usually, you wouldn’t have talked about it for more than thirty seconds, afraid to bore others with unnecessary details, but Jake’s reactions and the questions he asked made you actually feel listened to and like what you were talking about was interesting. So you grew more confident and told him what you loved about acting and about theater, about your own gossip (the arrogant actress who got the lead role and thought she was better than everyone else, that one guy who was clearly flirting with three girls at the same time), and you almost couldn’t believe Jake seemed so entertained by your stories. 

“So, you said your group focused on more classic plays, right? Does that mean you’re good at English Lit?”

With his spoon, Jake scooped some whipped cream into his mouth, hoping he was appearing as nonchalant as he was trying to be. He had to make you think he’d deduced that just now and not because he had been snooping through your backpack just the night prior. 

You, however, could not have cared less how he’d figured it out - you were just grateful he had segued into this topic of school and grades, because you’d been wanting to bring it up yourself but had no idea how.

“Um, yeah, actually, it’s my best subject. Math, on the other hand…”

You chuckled as his eyes widened and he leaned in across the table, pointing his spoon at you as he spoke. “See, that’s interesting, because math is my best subject, but I suck at English Lit.”

“Oh, really?” you asked, trying to sound genuinely surprised even though this piece of information was not at all new to you.

“Yeah,” he said, looking back down at his almost-finished drink with a small smile on his face.

“You know-”

“You know-”

You and Jake had spoken at the same time, and your eyes locked for a second before you started laughing. You gestured at him to go on first.

“I actually need pretty urgent help in English. Coach said he’ll put us out of the team if we fail even just one of our courses, and I’m very close to failing that class.” He took a moment to let out a sigh. “So, if you want, we could help each other out. Me with math, and you with English.” 

His eyebrows were slightly furrowed and he bit his lip as he looked at you expectantly. You thought he looked far too nervous for such a simple request, expression more like a boy who’d just asked his crush to the prom rather than offering mutual help you both desperately needed. You couldn’t help the smile that grew on your lips - you had never known Jake Sim to be so… cute. But he was waiting for an answer, so you pushed the thought out of your head.

“That’s a great idea, actually,” you replied, as if you hadn’t had the exact same idea. You were just relieved you hadn’t even had to bring it up yourself. “I also really can’t afford to fail math. It would look terrible on college applications.”

Jake let out a long, loud exhale. “God, yeah, college, I hadn’t even thought of that. Even more motivation to get better grades now,” he said with a chuckle.

You chuckled along, then cleared your throat and sat up straighter. You watched with amusement as Jake mirrored your actions and even the fake serious frown in your brows. You presented your hand for him to shake, which he did without hesitation.

“So it’s a deal then. We’ll tutor each other until we’ve gotten our grades up.”

“Deal,” he replied. As you both withdrew your hands, he dropped his serious facade and burst into giggles, a sound you hadn’t expected from the boy but somehow fit him well. You watched his face closely for a second, noticing the curl of his lips and the crinkle at the corner of his eyes, before breaking into laughter yourself.

You stayed in the café for another half hour, going over details of where and when you’d meet, of what exactly you needed help with (“Everything,” you’d said, to which Jake had replied “Same”), and just talked some more.

“I’m taking the 53 that way,” Jake said when you exited the café, pointing towards the bus stop.

“Oh, so am I!” you exclaimed.

“Seriously?! What’s your stop?”

And that’s how you and Jake figured out you only lived two bus stops away from each other. 

“That’s so cool! It’ll make it easy to meet up then,” he said, and you hummed in agreement. After a pause, he added: “But if we live so close to each other, how come we didn’t go to the same schools earlier? Aren’t you usually supposed to go to the one in your district?”

“I used to live in another part of town,” you explained. “Then my parents divorced when I was in middle school, and I stayed with my dad because he lived closer to the school I was at, but I moved to my mom’s place for high school.”

“‘Cause she lives closer?”

“Yeah, basically.” There was more to it, but you didn’t think Jake would be particularly interested in your parental issues - although you surprised yourself for even considering telling him. If Jake sensed that you weren’t saying everything, he didn’t push, just swiftly changed the topic as you waited for the bus to come.

When you got home some time later, the first thing you did was open your diary and start writing. It had felt wrong not to write in it even just for a day, so it was a relief to feel the pages between your fingers and the familiar scent of the paper and your perfumed pen. You wrote without thinking too much, simply letting all of your musings out into your diary and freely brushing the tip of your pen across the pages. 

You didn’t ever reread your entries right after writing them, but if you had that day, you might have noticed all you could write about was the boy you’d drank a hot chocolate with.

—

Spring break week passed by far too quickly, and it was on the first Monday back at school that you and Jake met again. He had soccer practice on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays, while you had theater rehearsals on Thursdays and Saturdays, so you’d agreed to meet up every Monday and Wednesday after school. Since his mother worked as the school nurse, she drove him to and from school everyday - so on Monday, you met Jake in front of the nurse’s station, waiting for his mom to wrap things up before she drove you both to their home.

You had been surprised to learn that the kind nurse that never asked too many questions and always let students take a nap if they didn’t feel well was Jake’s mom, but upon reflection, it made sense. Once you knew, it was almost obvious that she had raised him - they shared the same friendliness, the same comforting smile and the same ability to make conversation. The whole ride home, she asked you about yourself and thanked you for agreeing to tutor “our little Jakey,” because “God knows he needs the help.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh when a blush crept on Jake’s face and he looked out the passenger seat window with an embarrassed frown, muttering something like “Thanks a lot, Mom.”

She noticed his reaction and laughed along with you. “I’m just saying, Jakey-poo. It’s good to know to ask for help when you need it,” she cooed, reaching a hand out to ruffle his hair. This only made Jake groan loudly and hide his face in his hands. You didn’t know Jake very well, but this flustered, red-faced side of him was definitely one you liked seeing.

The first thing that greeted you when you reached Jake’s house was a happy welcome home bark.

“You have a dog?!” you exclaimed, unable to reel your excitement in.

“Yeah! This is Layla,” Jake said, giving energetic rubs to the Border Collie that made her whole body shake side-to-side but that she seemed to thoroughly enjoy. 

“Hi, Layla,” you cooed, crouching down to her level to let her sniff you. She decided you were a person worthy of petting her. “She’s so cute!”

“I think she likes you,” Jake said, a grin on his face, as he watched Layla presenting her belly to you and asking for scratches there. “Do you have a dog?”

“We have a Corgi at home. And a cat, too.”

“That must be fun,” Jake chuckled. “Do they get along?”

“Depends. They have a bit of a love-hate relationship.” You looked up at Jake, and it was uncharacteristically quiet as you locked eyes for a couple of seconds. You both looked away at the same time, surprised by the sudden eye contact.

You gave Layla one last rub and lifted yourself up. “Um, should we get started?” 

Jake paused for a second as if he’d forgotten what you were here for in the first place, then started nodding his head quickly. “Right, yeah. Let’s go to my room. Downstairs is just one big room and my mom will probably watch TV or make dinner or something, so it might be distracting…” he explained, lightly scratching the back of his neck. It seemed like he was embarrassed to be bringing you to his room, which you couldn’t help but find endearing.

“Okay, sounds good,” you said with a smile, hoping it’ll reassure him.

You followed him up to his room, ignoring his complaints as you lingered on the framed photos on the wall next to the stairs and giggled at his baby pictures. 

“Do not look at those,” he said with a warning tone that didn’t scare you in the slightest. When you didn’t listen, he grabbed your hand that had been pointing at a photo of baby Jake in the bathtub and forced you to keep walking.

“Why?” you asked, a slight whine to your voice.

“‘Cause it’s embarrassing! I was an ugly baby.”

“What?! You were so cute!”

“Whatever. I’d rather study English than talk about this, and that’s saying something.”

When you looked at Jake, you were surprised to find that he actually seemed upset about this. You weren’t sure what was so wrong with looking at his baby pictures, but the last thing you wanted to do was make him mad, so you stayed quiet and continued your way to his room. Once there, although you were infinitely curious about all the posters, pictures, figurines, trophies, and other small tokens of Jake’s life, you didn’t ask him about any of them, just sat next to him at his desk and opened The Picture of Dorian Grey, the book you had both been studying in Ms Park’s class.

You’d agreed on spending forty-five minutes on English, have a small break, then spend forty-five minutes on Math. It wasn’t a lot, but you both had other homework and things outside of school you needed to do, so you’d decided to start out that way and see if it worked out.

You were glad to see how seriously Jake was taking this - he listened intently to what you said and asked questions when he didn’t understand something. You quickly figured out that what he didn’t like about English Literature was that the answers weren’t as straightforward or as logical as they were in math, and even worse, that multiple answers were possible depending on the reader’s interpretation. 

“It just all feels like a guessing game,” he said, resting the side of his head on one of his palms. “How am I supposed to know what this dude meant? And if it can be analyzed in different ways, how can Ms Park tell me the way I understand it is wrong?”

“It’s all about the way you justify it,” you explained. “You can’t just say whatever. Ms Park will look out for how you use the text to support your answers.” You then went on to pick out a specific part of the book, asking Jake to analyze Dorian’s mindset in that scene. 

“He sounds like he’s going insane,” Jake said flatly when he was done reading, getting a chuckle out of you.

“Exactly. How do you know that?”

“I don’t know, just the words he uses,” Jake replies, shrugging.

“Okay, underline those words,” you instructed gently. Jake sighed, but he complied.

“There.” 

“Good. What can you say about those words?” When Jake just looked at you like a lost puppy, you reformulated your question. “What do they have in common? What type of words are they? Are they common nouns, verbs…”

Jake looked back at the words he’d underlined on the page. “They’re… adjectives?” he said, tone unsure.

“Exactly!”

Jake paused. “So?”

“So now you can say that the author uses many adjectives to convey the gradual loss of sanity of the main character.”

“Oh.”

When you looked at Jake, he wore an expression like the words on the page were finally starting to make sense to him. “That’s the content. You can also look at the structure. See how many punctuation marks there are? Commas, semi-colons, question marks… It’s like he keeps cutting himself off. His thoughts are all over the place.”

Jake nodded slowly. “So, I just need to look out for things like that?”

“Basically, yeah. And the more you practice, the more these things will stand out to you. It actually becomes somewhat repetitive sometimes.”

Jake let out a shaky breath. “That’s actually relieving to hear,” he said with a chuckle.

Thirty minutes passed by like this as you showed Jake ways to make sense of a literary text. When the timer rang, he leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms out wide with a sigh. He put his hands behind his head and let it hang back, and the way your stomach flipped at the sight of his exposed neck and Adam’s apple made you look away immediately. You could barely meet his eyes as he turned his head to look at you, still in that same position, and, with a smirk, asked if you were ready for some snacks. 

You gulped, trying to look as normal as possible. “Uh, yeah, sure!”

Downstairs, Jake presented you with all sorts of snacks - there were so many, you felt like you were in a convenience store. This was worlds away from your ingredient-only household. You opted for some biscuits and a banana while Jake made himself a bowl of cereal. A very distracting ten-minute long argument then ensued about the order of milk and cereal - horrifyingly, Jake poured his milk before his cereal. You thought it was a myth that some people actually did it that way, but Jake very proudly defended his choice. 

“I bet you eat pizza with pineapple on it, too,” you said half-jokingly, only for your joke to punch you right back in the face.

“Duh,” Jake answered.

You could only shake your head in defeat. “Let’s just get back to studying before I murder you.”

“Damn, Y/N,” Jake said, laughing. “That’s harsh.”

“And you’re a freak,” you retorted, a grin blooming on your lips.

“You know, you remind me of my friend Jay,” Jake mused as you walked back up the stairs. “He has so many of these small battles that he just won’t let go of. He got super worked up over an argument about mint chocolate chip ice cream once.”

“Let me guess, you like that ice cream?”

Jake shrugged. “It’s not my favorite, but I’ll have it once in a while.”

“God, Sim, you just get worse and worse.”

You sat back down at his desk and started eating. “I bet you think I’m weird for liking math too, right?”

“That’s the worst offense of them all.” 

Jake’s sudden quietness caught you off guard. When you turned your head to look at him, he was already gazing at you with a smile and a sort of thoughtful glint to his eyes, resting his chin on his palm. It sounded like he was thinking out loud when he spoke next. “Guess we’re perfect opposites of each other. Like two peas in a pod!”

The realization of what he’d said dawned upon him as soon as the words left his mouth. He slowly lifted his head as his eyes widened. “I don’t mean- just, you know, since you’re good at English and I’m good at math, and- you know… I didn’t mean it in a weird way, or anything…”

His eyes kept glancing back and forth between you and his bowl of cereal, as if he was scared of looking directly at you but wanted to check your reaction. 

As a smile grew on your face, you kept your eyes trained on your biscuits so he wouldn’t see your flustered expression. But when you looked at him again, he held your gaze, mouth slightly agape. You didn’t have it in you that he had gotten the idiom completely wrong. “I know, don’t worry.” You chuckled. “We are opposites of each other. You just better be as good at teaching math as I am at teaching English,” you teased.

You watched as a smirk tugged one corner of Jake’s lips up and he raised an eyebrow. “Who said you were good at teaching English?”

You gasped. “You said you understood better now!”

Jake’s smile softened as he giggled. “I’m just teasing. You are a good teacher.”

You sat up straighter at the compliment, a proud smile on your face. “Your turn, Mr Sim. I’m all ears.”

“Right,” he said, mirroring your posture. “Shall we start by going over Mr Choi’s test from last week?” 

Your smile dropped instantly at this. Reluctantly, you fished your graded paper out of your bag. You already knew Mr Choi was a psychopath, but you still didn’t understand where he found the will to grade thirty papers over the weekend. You avoided Jake’s gaze as you handed him your test with a big, red, circled D- at the top.

You cringed as Jake sighed. “At least it’s not an F, right?” he said in what you could tell was an attempt at reassurance but somehow only made you feel worse. He looked over your answers quickly, trying to find what in particular you struggled with. “All right. Let’s start from the beginning, yeah?”

For the next forty-five minutes, Jake went over each test question with you, breaking them down and explaining how to solve them in a way you understood. The words he used were so much clearer than the half-assed explanations you were used to from Mr Choi, and for once, math actually made some sort of sense. Your brain still felt broken after almost an hour of numbers and greek letters, but at least, you felt smarter rather than dumber at the end of it. You had never been more grateful for the sound of a phone alarm than the one signaling tutoring was over. 

“That wasn’t half-bad, right?” Jake asked with a wide grin.

You felt so tired, you could probably pass out right then and there, but Jake looked so proud of himself after you had been able to complete an exercise correctly on your own that you didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth. “Right,” you replied, mirroring his grin. “You’re an okay teacher, I guess.”

He jokingly glared and tutted at you, but you both laughed right after. “I need to walk Layla, so I can walk you home, if you want?” he offered as you started packing your things. His words had an uncertain tone to them, as if he wasn’t sure you’d still want to spend time with him after this - but it only took you a second of thinking to realize you’d rather continue hanging out with him than going home on your own.

“Sure! I need to walk Kiwi too, actually.”

“Your dog’s name is Kiwi?!”

“Yes,” you said, chuckling at his fascinated tone.

“That’s an adorable name.”

“Thanks, I chose it.”

“Oh, then I take it back. Worst name I’ve ever heard for a dog.”

“Hey!” you exclaimed, lightly hitting him on the head with your math notebook, making him raise a hand in self-defense as he laughed.

“Sorry, sorry. Does your cat also have a fruit name?” 

A pause. “Mango,” you mumbled, and he immediately burst into laughter again. You side-eyed him as you zipped up your bag.

“Wow, you have amazing taste in pet names, Y/N.”

“Shut up,” you said, laughing along. Then you realized something, and you suddenly stopped laughing, looking up at Jake with wide eyes that made him slightly start to panic. “Oh my God, Jake, are our dogs going to meet?”

“Our dogs are going to meet,” he echoed in a sort of fascinated whisper. You both understood the other - dogs becoming friends was the cutest thing ever.

“Let’s go,” you whispered back excitedly.

When you reached the living room downstairs, you bid Mrs Sim goodbye, then went to the entrance to put your shoes back on. “You two sure get along well,” you heard her say to her son with a suggestive tone. Even though she had dropped the volume of her voice, the door was wide open and there were only a few meters between you, so you’d heard her loud and clear. 

“Geez, Mom,” Jake groaned, seemingly irked by his mom’s insinuation.

“It’s just you’ve never brought a girl home, Jakey-”

“Okay, we’re leaving now! Layla, come!”

You hadn’t even realized how wide you were grinning until Jake saw you tying your shoelaces and grumbled “What are you smiling so hard for.”

“Nothing,” you giggled, and your smile grew as you watched a grin break through his pretend-upset expression.

You sighed contentedly as you stepped outside, letting the crisp early April air hit your face. You tightened your scarf around your neck and buried your hands in your pocket and you and Jake started walking side by side, Layla happily leading the way. The streets were fairly quiet at this time of day, save for the yells of children still playing in their backyards before dinner and a few cars of people coming home late from work.

Only the first five seconds of the walk were silent, until you couldn’t contain yourself anymore. “So, never brought a girl home, huh?” you asked with a teasing smirk.

Jake let out an offended scoff and looked up to the sky as if God could help him out of this one. Sadly, He didn’t, so Jake had to find an answer himself. “I’m not talking about this with you.”

“Why not?”

Pouting, Jake spared you a sideway glance. “Because you’re a girl,” he replied, voice lowered to a mumble.

You chuckled at this. “Very astute observation, Jake.”

“No, I- Ugh,” he groaned before laughing along with you. “I don’t need a girl to know how bad I am with- well, with girls.”

“I can help with that,” you said before you really thought about it. “I mean, I’m not a love expert by any means, but I can maybe give, I don’t know, pointers or something if there’s someone you like-”

“There’s no one I like,” Jake quickly cut in. “Um, not right now, at least.”

“O-okay,” you replied, nodding. “That’s fine.” 

“What about you? Do you like anyone?”

As Jake asked the question, he realized he already knew the answer - you liked Sunghoon. How could he forget?! Half of his plan had been to make you get closer to his friend, but he hadn’t even started thinking about that yet. In his defense, he’d come up with that plan three days ago.

Your answer surprised him. “Um, no, me neither. Not right now, at least,” you said, repeating his words with a smile on your face. You locked eyes for a second before looking away at the same time, chuckling.

“Right,” he said. He knew what he had read in your diary, so maybe you were just too shy to admit you had a crush on his friend of all people.

An unexpected awkwardness settled between the two of you, and you more than anything wanted it to go away. Even though it’d only been a few days since you and Jake had started getting to know each other, you already felt comfortable enough to be yourself around him, and it usually took you weeks before reaching that level with anyone. This hadn’t happened since you met Yena and Hyewon at the beginning of high school - they had been friends since middle school, and so had you and Chaewon, and when the four of you met, you had instant chemistry. But maybe it was slightly too early to start talking about crushes with Jake.

For once, you were the one to break the silence - you asked him whether he knew what he wanted to do after school. Basic question, but you were genuinely curious. 

Looking a little bashful, he confessed his dream had always been to be a math teacher and soccer coach at a middle or high school. You told him he already had the talent for it, and when he blushed at your words, you made sure to tease him for it.  

“I’m not sure yet,” you said when he returned the question. “I know I wanna go to college and continue doing English Lit and theater there, but that’s about it.”

“That’s already good enough,” Jake said with a smile. “Still got time to figure out what comes after, right?”

You naturally mirrored his smile - there was something contagious about Jake’s puppyish grin that made it hard not to smile yourself. “Right.”

The three of you reached your house quickly after that. Your mom still hadn’t come home from work, so Kiwi was even more excited than usual for your arrival home. You and Jake watched fondly as your dogs sniffed each other for a few seconds before starting to run around together. The fact that they got along made you really happy, perhaps unreasonably so, and you started bouncing up and down on the balls of your feet as you watched them play. “Our dogs are friends!” you exclaimed excitedly. 

When you turned to look at Jake, he wasn’t watching the dogs like you had been - he was gazing straight at you, eyes soft with something that made your heart skip a beat. You couldn’t look away, and it was only after a few seconds that he seemed to snap out of the sort of daze he was in. He cleared his throat and you finally tore your eyes away from him.

“Let me just- Kiwi! I need to put his leash around him,” you said, speaking quickly to dissipate the weird atmosphere as best as you could. You led Jake down the path you usually took with Kiwi that led to a park in your neighborhood, and you were relieved when normal conversation started again.

Jake insisted on walking you back to your house even though he had left his earlier. He made a whole show of not going until you’d walked inside and closed the door, so you’d rushed to your window to shout his name and wave goodbye at him, which made him laugh.

You turned back to Kiwi when Jake and Layla had turned a corner and you couldn’t watch them anymore. “Are you happy you made a new friend, Kiwi?”

The Corgi barked happily at you in response - probably more at hearing his name than because he understood your question, but still, you liked to think you could communicate with your dog on such a level. You chuckled and took him in your arms. “Me too.”

—

Apparently, you couldn’t even wave to someone in the hallway without being interrogated about it anymore.

“Y/N, did you just say hi to Jake Sim?” Chaewon asked like you’d just insulted her whole family.

It was 10 a.m. on a simple Tuesday morning, the day after Jake and you had studied together for the first time, and you’d just walked past the boy - so of course, you said hi to him. Maybe, your heart started beating slightly faster when you’d noticed him approaching. Maybe, it was nice to be on the receiving end of his friendly grin.

“Yes?” you replied, sentence coming out more like a question.

“Since when do you say hi to Jake Sim?!” 

“Since today, I guess.”

“But why?!” She’d raised her voice so much, you’d gotten strange looks from other students in the hallway. 

“I told you!”

She shook her head slowly at you as if to say, No you didn’t!

You rolled your eyes and sighed. Chaewon and her early onset short-term memory loss. “The backpack thing? And agreeing to tutoring each other? I wrote to the group chat about this!”

“Oh, that! Of course I remember that,” she said, even though you knew she had forgotten about it and remembered it just now. “So, has that started already?”

You reached the classroom for your next class and sat down in your usual seats next to each other, waiting for the teacher to arrive. Busy hallways like these were the perfect place for gossip, because they were loud and nobody paid attention to others’ conversations. “Yeah, yesterday afternoon.”

Chaewon gasped. “And you didn’t tell us?!”

“Will you quiet down? I was going to see and tell you guys today anyway.”

“Okay, so, tell me about it.”

“But-”

“Tell. Me.”

You wouldn’t see Yena and Hyewon until lunch in two hours, and you knew Chaewon didn’t have the patience to wait until then. So you sighed again and obliged, telling her about your afternoon with Jake in every detail you could remember, because she would ask about insignificant things anyway. 

To your surprise, the first thing she said when you were done talking was this: “Y/N, do you like Jake?”

Your mouth opened slightly in shock at the question, but before you could even retort, you started giggling. “No, I don’t,” you said in a way that sounded like you very much did.

“Oh my God! You so do!” Chaewon said, giggling along with you. “You whore, you’ve only talked to him, like, twice,” she joked.

You gasped fake-dramatically and slapped her arm. “Oh please, look at Hyewon and Jaemin, they started dating after a week of talking.”

“Yes, and they’ve been going one year strong, so clearly, you need to ask Jake out and get this over with. You’ll get a boyfriend and a math tutor all-in-one, it’s a perfect deal!”

“Don’t get too carried away, okay? Jake and I are friends. Like you said, we barely know each other right now.”

You meant this - sure, you had had a really good time with Jake both times you saw him, and you were looking forward to your next tutoring session, but you chalked it up to the excitement of making a new friend. Plus, barely last week you felt some sort of way towards his best friend - wouldn’t it be weird to practically transfer your feelings from Sunghoon to Jake?

“Whatever. Yena and Hyewon are gonna freak when I tell them,” Chaewon said excitedly.

You shook your head at your friend but couldn’t keep down the amused grin on your face. “You guys are insane.”

“Oh please, like you’re not the president of our Park Sunghoon fanclub. I can’t believe you’re leaving us for his best friend!”

“Hey, if anything, less competition for you, right?”

Chaewon opened her mouth to say something, but the teacher arrived, starting the lesson before having even put her bag down - Mrs Lee always arrived late but never wasted a second of class when she was in the room. Your friend resorted to sticking her tongue out at you instead, and you chuckled at her childishness as you opened your History notebook. 

—

Jake was a complete, total, utter idiot. His plan had consisted of two things only, and he’d somehow managed to forget one of them, even after talking about it with you, albeit vaguely. It had taken him two weeks and one Park Sunghoon to even remember it.

Between Jake’s soccer practice, Sunghoon’s ice skating practice and Jay’s being away at boarding school, the three friends only had one night every week on which they were all free - Friday night. So, every Friday, they planned some sort of hang out at one of their houses and gamed or watched movies all night.

Kinda like date night, but for bros.

This was one of those bro nights; namely, the one in the second week of you and Jake tutoring each other. The boys had decided to go to the burger joint they like that night and were in the middle of a french fry fight when Sunghoon mentioned your and Jake’s new friendship.

“So, Jake… what’s up with you and Y/N?”

Jake halted in his motions, redirecting to his mouth the fry he was about to throw at Jay. “Nothing’s up with me and Y/N. What makes you say that?”

“Just, you know, you seem like you’ve become actual friends. Talking in the hallways and walking your dogs together and whatnot.”

“Y/N as in Y/N? Sunghoon’s Y/N?” Jay said, halfway through a bite of his cheeseburger.

“She’s not my Y/N-”

“Yes, Y/N as in Y/N, you idiot,” Jake cut in. “And like you said, we’re friends.”

“Is she the girl you posted some BeReals with?” Jay asked, and Jake nodded. “She’s pretty! No wonder Sunghoon likes her so much.”

Sunghoon sighed as he let his head hang low. “God forbid I find a girl cute, because I’ll mention it once, two years ago and you guys make me out to be in love with her.”

“Sunghoon, you act like girls don’t exist, so of course when you not only mention a girl, but describe her as cute, that means you’re in love with her!”

“But I’m not! We were literally having a whole conversation about girls, I happened to see Y/N and her friends from far away, I said she was cute, and now you guys won’t let me live it down. Jay, you weren’t even there!”

“Yeah, but the way Jake told me about the whole thing, it really sounded like you liked her.”

“Why would you trust Jake to relay something like this correctly?!”

Jay paused and tilted his head. “You have a point there.”

“Hey!”

“So you don’t, like… like her, or something?” Sunghoon asked, looking at his friend as he sipped on his Pepsi.

This made Jake stop. Did he like you? Wasn’t the fact that he was considering it sign enough? Surely, if there was nothing there, he would have answered no right away.

But there was no use thinking about it. You liked Sunghoon. And as much as he liked to deny it, Jake knew Sunghoon liked you, too. After two years, there was finally an opportunity for the two of you to get closer - Jake wasn’t about to get in the middle of that. If anything, he should help his friends out. Then, when you and Sunghoon eventually got married, Jake would have the honor of saying it was all thanks to him in his best man’s speech. 

“No, I don’t. Don’t worry, Hoon, I’m not gonna steal your girl away from you.”

“Again, she’s not my girl-”

“Whatever you say. I’ll introduce you guys.”

Even if Sunghoon didn’t think he liked you yet, Jake knew it was just a matter of time - his friend just needed to spend a few hours with you to realize he did. You were pretty, smart, funny, nice, had the sweetest laugh he’d ever heard, got along with dogs, and even though you sometimes had weird opinions, it was always fun, talking to you. It was easy and comfortable. Anyone with taste would fall for you.

Anyone, except for Jake, of course.

—

For the past three weeks, you and Jake had gotten along perfectly, but today, on this bright Tuesday afternoon, you really wanted to strangle him. 

When he’d invited you to come and watch him at soccer practice, you’d been surprised, but happy - usually, you invited people to watch an actual game, not just practice. But you were just glad for the opportunity to spend more time with him. 

Without realizing it, you were giddy with excitement the whole day, counting down the minutes until classes were over and Jake’s practice started. Jake had told you to just head to the bleachers while the players got ready in the locker room, but when you reached said bleachers, someone was already sitting there, looking at something on their phone. You recognized him immediately as Sunghoon. He didn’t notice you right away, so you had time to wipe the surprise off of your face - you hadn’t thought anyone came to watch practice, but Sunghoon was probably here for Jake, just like you. 

“Hey,” you said quietly as you sat down next to him. Even though you were technically still on school property, this was the first time you saw Sunghoon outside of somewhere like a classroom, a hallway or the cafeteria. You weren’t as nervous as you thought you’d be, seeing him unexpectedly like this. 

You chuckled when Sunghoon started at your sudden arrival. “Oh, hey, Y/N,” he said, chuckling too, albeit somewhat awkwardly. “Sorry, didn’t hear you coming.”

“It’s fine,” you said with a smile as you sat down next to him on the bleachers. You didn’t know what sort of distance was appropriate between you two, if you should sit close or far, but you stopped yourself before you could overthink something as trivial as that. Neither of you said anything for a few seconds and you wished practice had started before you got here, so that you’d have something to look at other than an empty field.

You broke the silence before it became too uncomfortable. “So, do you come watch Jake often?”

You’d been fiddling with your hands as you spoke, only turning your head to look at Sunghoon as you awaited his answer. Your eyes didn’t even meet for a fraction of a second before he whipped his head to look at the field, as if unable to look at you and talk at the same time. At least he had a nice side profile for you to look at.

“Um, just on Tuesdays. I have ice skating practice after this, so I come here first, then he comes with me to the rink,” he replied. He glanced at you, lips pressed into a thin line that somewhat resembled a smile and that pushed dimples into his cheeks. You simply hummed in response. 

“What about you, how come you’re here?”

“Jake asked me,” you replied. Sunghoon let out a long “oh” as he nodded, turning his head back towards the field again. You didn’t think you’d ever had such a slow conversation. It was like you and Sunghoon both repeated your words ten times over in your heads before saying them out loud.

“Are you coming to my practice, too?” he asked after another pause.

The question took you aback slightly as you hadn’t even considered it, but it could be fun, seeing Sunghoon practice ice skating. It’d also be fun to hang out with Jake. “If it’s fine with you, then yeah, why not,” you replied, smiling at Sunghoon. He glanced at you again before looking away with a smile, an actual one this time that showed his teeth and made his eyes crinkle.

“Yeah, sure. People usually only come to actual shows, so I like it when someone’s there to watch practice.” Before you could find something to say, the players arrived jogging onto the field, immediately starting their warm-up laps. Some were serious about it and stayed focused as they ran, while others goofed around, running backwards and slapping other players on their butts before sprinting away. Jake, of course, was part of the latter group.

Now that something was actually happening on the field, you and Sunghoon had an excuse not to make conversation anymore. You tried to ignore it, but it was so awkward you wanted to die. You realized now why you were so attracted to people like Jake and Chaewon - without even being aware of it, they brought you out of your shell and made you feel at ease. You wished you could do that on your own, but you were always too scared, so you needed that person who was confident enough showing themselves to you first to make you feel comfortable doing the same. You and Sunghoon, unfortunately, were too similar in that sense to do that for each other. So you just sat there in silence, observing Jake and waving back at him when he caught your gazes.

The ninety minutes of practice didn’t go by in total silence - you asked Sunghoon about some soccer rules you didn’t get, and he shared some anecdotes from his and Jake’s earlier teenage years, including a very entertaining story about a tantrum 9-year-old Jake had thrown when he hadn’t agreed with the red card the referee had given him. You weren’t sure how the topic came up, but at some point, you even shared pictures of your pets. Sunghoon had one of those small crusty white dogs, but you kept your laughter in and cooed over how cute she was. 

But still, most of the time, you were watching Jake. You had never been interested in soccer or any sort of sport that involved balls until now. Somehow, he managed to make flushed cheeks, a heaving chest and hairline beaded with sweat look glorious. In total honesty, you were paying more attention to the player himself than to the sport, to the point that you barely noticed when he scored a goal during their practice match. It was only when Jake started cheering and high-fiving his teammates that you realized what had happened, and you gave him two thumbs up and a wide grin when he looked your and Sunghoon’s way, proudly shouting “Did you see that?!”

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks right there and then. The way your heart swelled as you watched his excited, puppyish grin take over his features was undeniable - you liked Jake. You like liked him. Your gaze continued to follow him as he finished his celebratory lap. If you could’ve seen yourself right then, you’d probably have been embarrassed by your awestruck expression and slightly agape mouth, but you couldn’t help yourself.

Much to your dismay, you realized that Chaewon had seen right through you. You hadn’t wanted to read too much into your feelings, but they had become too obvious to ignore. You hadn’t experienced them yourself since middle school (Choi Soobin had really been a heartbreaker back then), but you’d heard about the telltale signs of a crush too many times not to know about them. It was now clear that the way you felt about Jake and the way you had felt about Sunghoon were worlds apart. Feeling nervous around him and your heart skipping a beat when you made eye contact; wanting to see him smile; laughing at all his jokes, even the bad ones; missing him even though it’d been seconds since you said goodbye, and counting down the days until you saw him again. And, yes, looking at his pictures on social media over and over again. You did all those things, so you knew there was no point in lying to yourself anymore - you liked Jake Sim. 

It didn’t help that he was always kind to you, never making you feel stupid for not understanding something in your tutoring sessions and being patient enough to explain the same thing over and over again. He always paid attention to small things, which never failed to make your heart race, like asking after your aging cat’s condition after you’d told him he had a health check-up over the weekend or stocking up on your favorite snack the week after you’d told him about it. He’d also immediately picked up on your habit of teasing the people you felt comfortable with and you loved how he returned it tenfold. It was as much fun debating with him over nothing and making him shut up with your senseless arguments as it was being rendered speechless when he came up with the perfect retort. 

And of course, there was no denying that Jake was ridiculously attractive. There were times you got so caught up in the way his lips moved as he spoke or the way his fingers looked as he pointed at numbers on the page that your mind completely blanked out and you stopped listening to his words for a few seconds. You didn’t know what to make of his small chuckle and smirk when he noticed your gaze fixated on him, but you knew it wasn’t good for your heart. And let’s not even get started on the fact that sitting so close to him meant you could smell the lingering scent of his cologne every single time.

Even now, with flushed cheeks and hair slicked back with sweat, you want to run onto the field and give him a big smooch on his cheek, telling him you were proud of him for scoring that goal.

But even though you were getting closer and he had offered for you to come watch his practice, you squashed down as best as you could any hope that he might feel the same way about you. Even if he insisted he was bad with girls, Jake was popular at school, and you were sure there were many other girls who had a crush on him - so why would he like you of all people?

Sunghoon’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. “Every time he scores, he acts like it’s the first time he’s ever done it,” he said, chuckling and shaking his head at his friend’s over-dramatic antics. The coach was trying to get Jake to calm down so that the game could resume.

“He’s so cute,” you said, voice quiet, before you could stop yourself. But as soon as the words were out, you realized what you’d done, and your eyes doubled in size as you turned to look at Sunghoon. He had whipped his head to look at you, too, and his eyes were just as big as yours. Then, he burst into laughter, and you hoped the Earth would suddenly open beneath your feet and swallow you whole. 

When his surprise had subsided, Sunghoon turned to you again, an incredulous but amused glint in his eyes. “Did you just call Jake cute?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, slightly frowning as you avoided Sunghoon’s gaze. “I just meant, you know, it’s cute how excited he got. I didn’t say he was cute,” you mumbled, knowing you were doing a poor job of defending yourself.

“That’s exactly what you said, though. You said, and I quote, He’s so cute.” You glared at Sunghoon. Who knew he would only become talkative once it came to teasing you about Jake? 

His expression softened slightly when he realized you might actually be upset about this, and he turned his attention back towards the field, smile growing when he found his friend. “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything.”

“There’s nothing to be said anyway.”

“Oh? So you don’t mind if I tell Jake that you have the biggest, fattest crush on- hmph!”

You’d cut Sunghoon off by pressing your palm to his mouth, mustering the most menacing look you could to scare him off. “I do not,” you said firmly as you moved your hand away from him.

“Sure, you don’t,” he replied, chuckling. Clearly, your most menacing look wasn’t so menacing.

“I get why Jake’s so annoying now, it’s because he’s friends with you.”

Sunghoon raised an amused eyebrow at this. “He might be annoying, but he’s also cute, right?”

“Shut up!” you shrieked immediately, but you couldn’t stop the grin forcing its way onto your lips.

“Just saying,” Sunghoon said, and you laughed together. Maybe you should’ve been more worried about Jake’s literal best friend finding out you had a crush on him, but you somehow trusted Sunghoon not to blabber about it. Whether because he was nice or because he wanted to watch you struggle with your feelings, you weren’t sure, but at least you felt your secret was safe with him.

You looked back at the field, and just as your eyes found Jake, you saw him turn his head away. Had you seen him just seconds prior, you might have noticed the crease in his eyebrows as he watched you and Sunghoon laugh together. Sunghoon isn’t that funny, he thought, what could you be laughing so hard about?

He didn’t understand the sudden weight in his heart at the sight of you and his friend getting along so well. This was his whole plan after all - force some proximity between you and Sunghoon so that you could talk and hopefully make your feelings clear to each other after some time. Clearly, it was working. So why was it bothering him so much? 

He had to turn his attention back to the game, so he could only ruminate over it for five seconds, but for the remaining thirty minutes, he could barely focus on anything. Whenever he glanced back at you and Sunghoon, you were both looking at him and not talking to each other, and that somehow bothered him even more. 

He used his time in the lockers to get out of the weird mood he was in - whatever was going on between you and Sunghoon, he didn’t want to ruin it by being grumpy. So when he came back out and found the two of you waiting for him at the bus stop, he put on his best smile. 

Having you around made his usual Tuesday afternoon with Sunghoon more fun - after years of friendship, Sunghoon ignored most of his jokes and could tune the sound of his voice out, but you still laughed at everything he said, and his heart swelled with pride every time he made you laugh.

It was only a ten-minute bus ride from the school to the ice rink so you still had twenty minutes to spare before Sunghoon’s lesson started. As always after soccer practice, Jake was famished, so you stopped by a convenience store and got more snacks than you really needed.

You sat next to Sunghoon and across from Jake at a picnic table in front of the ice rink, watching the boy in front of you with fascination as he gorged himself on banana milk and chocolate snacks.

“God, how long has it been since you last ate?” you asked with genuine concern in your voice. Sunghoon followed your gaze towards Jake, only then noticing his friend’s feral behavior as if this was a normal occurrence for them.

“Like three hours,” Jake answered. “I’m starving. So hungry I could eat Sunghoon.”

When he looked up, you were both peering at him with furrowed eyebrows and bewildered expressions on your faces. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Do you mean that Sunghoon is a horse?” you asked.

Jake mirrored your confused expressions. “What? No, why would I say that?”

“The saying goes, so hungry I could eat a horse, dumbass,” Sunghoon chimed in.

“Why would I eat a horse?” Jake replied, shaking his head and chuckling at you and Sunghoon like you were the ones who had gotten a basic idiom wrong.

“Why would you eat me?” Sunghoon bit back, sounding almost offended.

“It’s just a saying, dude.”

Half-an-hour and two whole packets of biscuits later, you and Jake sat side-by-side on the benches, watching Sunghoon as he did his warm-ups on the ice. This was your first time seeing a professional ice skater and you were transfixed, to say the least. He was just skating across the rink and rolling his arms and neck to get the muscles moving, but it all seemed so effortless and elegant that you couldn’t help but watch with your mouth slightly open, eyes eager to keep up with Sunghoon’s figure.

You were so mesmerized that you had no idea Jake was practically burning holes into the side of your face. Eyes narrowed and nose scrunched in disgust, he couldn’t believe you were enjoying the show in front of you that much. “He’s not even doing anything special right now, you know,” he said, but it only made him realize that when Sunghoon did start doing cool stuff, you’d like it even more.

Your head barely budged in Jake’s direction as you answered him, and your eyes certainly didn’t leave Sunghoon. “Really? It already looks so cool, though.” Jake scoffed, but that still didn’t get your attention, which made him scoff again. He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned like a child whose parent wasn’t paying attention to their drawing. 

“Cooler than me?”

Finally, you look at me, Jake thought, and his frown immediately dissipated into a grin when your eyes met. But judging by the teasing way your lips curled up, he already knew he wasn’t going to like your answer.

“Cooler than you,” you replied before turning your attention back to the rink.

Jake leans back with a pout, opting to glare at his friend instead of you. He tried to put himself in your shoes and figure out what it was about Sunghoon you liked so much that Jake didn’t also have. Devastatingly good looks? Check. Charming smile? Check. Cute dog? Check - Jake more so than Sunghoon. Brains? Okay, both of them lacked this. Good personality? Check - however, you needed months before Sunghoon revealed himself to you, whereas Jake was outgoing and was comfortable even with people he’d just met. 

So why was the bearer of your affection Sunghoon and not Jake?

And why did Jake even care that you liked his friend over him in the first place?

It wasn’t like Jake liked you - he couldn’t like a girl that his best friend liked - so why did this at all matter to him? If anything, the fact that you liked Sunghoon back should’ve been something to rejoice over. It had been, up until now, and Jake couldn’t figure out why. He couldn’t figure out this weird sensation that had plagued him in the soccer field and followed him to the ice rink as he watched you watch Sunghoon with amazement.

Jake was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t even notice when you detached your eyes from Sunghoon, who was talking to his coach, and tilted your head at him. “Jake?” 

The boy only let out a low hum, still too upset to look at you.

An amused grin made your lips quirk up. “Are you pouting because I said Sunghoon was cooler than you?”

Jake scoffed, turning his head away from you. “No.”

A pause. “So you don’t mind if I go on and on about how elegant and beautiful ice skating is, while running after a ball and kicking it is the basis of the stupidest sport in the world?”

Jake glared at you, but it only made you smile more. “It’s not stupid.”

Despite himself, his pretend angry facade broke apart at the sound of your airy giggles. Jake didn’t think his ears had ever been graced with such a pretty sound before - he slapped himself mentally as soon as that thought crossed his mind. 

His heart did jumps and spins more impressive than Sunghoon’s when you reached a hand out to ruffle his hair, shaking your head at his behavior. For once, he was glad that you turned back to Sunghoon so that you wouldn’t see the bright blush spreading all over his face.

For the next hour, Jake put his weird feelings to the side and watched his friend practice his routine for his upcoming competition. Even he had to admit that Sunghoon looked pretty cool doing what he loved.

You told him you found it all the more impressive because you’d never skated before, so it looked unachievable to you, and an idea immediately formed in Jake’s mind. As soon as Sunghoon’s practice was over, he rushed over to his friend and asked if the two of you could join him on the ice. Sunghoon turned to his coach, who simply shrugged.

“I trust you to look after them,” she said. “Just make sure to be out when the hockey team gets here.”

Before you knew it, Jake was helping you tie up your ice skates (the sight of which made you faint-hearted) and both boys helped you onto the ice rink, each holding onto one of your hands as you tried not to freak out at the feeling of your knees being so wobbly. Sunghoon demonstrated how to move around the ice, and soon enough, you’d gotten the hang of it - but you still made sure to keep Jake at an arm’s length so you could grab onto him every time you lost your balance. Jake stayed by your side, smiling fondly at how excited you looked and cheering you on every time you took a step of your own. Sunghoon, on the other hand, seemed to find it funny to watch from afar and point and laugh every time you stumbled.

After some time, Sunghoon announced he was feeling hungry and decided to go eat some snacks, leaving you and Jake alone in the rink. The wink Sunghoon threw your way when Jake wasn’t looking let you know what his true intentions were, and you couldn’t believe Jake’s best friend had just become your wingman.

“Feeling ready to skate around the rink?” Jake asked. His boyish grin was contagious, and you found yourself matching it even though you were still nervous about moving around too much.

“If you help me,” you answered tentatively, looking at him worriedly as you held out your hand for him to take. The softness of his gaze as he smiled down at you made you want to melt into a puddle on the floor.

“Of course,” he said, taking your hand in his warm one. Your fingers intertwined as if out of second nature and you thought you finally understood why people said their hands were meant to hold someone else’s.

Being friends with an ice skater for such a long time meant Jake had acquired some skill, too, which is why he could so easily show you how to turn or pick up speed. Whenever you lost your balance, he was always quick enough to make sure you didn’t actually fall, picking you up before your backside could touch the ice. He found your frightened expression every time you thought you would fall absolutely adorable, but your pout and slight frown whenever he teased you were somehow even cuter.

He only let go of your hand after some ten minutes (neither of you had even begun to question Sunghoon’s whereabouts by then) when he came to stand in front of you, a serious expression on his face.

“I think you’re ready, Y/N,” he declared solemnly.

“Ready for…?” you asked, scared of whatever he had in mind.

He leaned in slightly and the sudden proximity took you aback, but he didn’t seem to realize. A mischievous smirk broke through his handsome features. “A race,” he whispered, then skated to one edge of the rink and motioned for you to follow him. Reluctantly, you did.

“First to the other edge has to…” he thought for a second, gazing at the ceiling. You wanted to be mad at him for proposing a race when you’d literally just learned how to skate, but how could you when he looked so cute and giddy, searching for the loser’s penalty? “Buy the other ice cream!”

Your eyes were probably the image of tenderness as you looked at him. “Deal,” you said, wanting to sound as playful as him but voice coming out soft. Since when had you fallen so hard for him?

You held each other’s gazes for a couple more seconds before both turning in front of you, getting ready for your race. Jake counted down from three, and your skating wasn’t so bad at first - until you got too cocky for your own good, trying to go at a pace you clearly couldn’t handle. Before you knew it, your knees betrayed you and you found yourself tripping over, your butt making a loud thump sound as it came into contact with the ice.

On your way down, you’d shrieked Jake’s name, and he was at your side in the blink of an eye, holding your shoulder and looking at you worriedly. The pain was immediate, and for a few seconds, you couldn’t answer him and reassure him that you were fine.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have asked to race, God Y/N I’m so stupid I’m so sorry are you okay I didn’t want you to get hurt-”

“Jake,” you squeaked.

“Yeah?”

“I’m okay, calm down,” you said when the pain subsided, managing a smile. “I’ll just have a sore butt tomorrow.” He chuckled at the word ‘butt,’ but you didn’t have it in you to roll his eyes at his childishness.

“Are you sure you’re okay? There’s an infirmary here-”

“I’m sure, Jakey-poo,” you teased, making him lose the concerned expression as he bore an unimpressed one instead.

“I guess you are fine if you can think to call me that. Come on, up!” he said as he stood up, reaching his hands out for you to take. Just as he helped you up, Sunghoon came sprinting and stood at the entrance to the rink.

“Is everything okay? I heard a yell,” he said, slightly out-of-breath with half a biscuit in his mouth. Guess he really was eating this whole time.

You and Jake laughed and shook your head at him, and you reassured him that everything was fine. 

“Good, ‘cause the hockey team’s here and we have to go anyway.”

There was a bus that took Sunghoon directly from the ice rink to his house, but you and Jake had to go back to the school to catch the one you usually took, which meant you had a forty-minute journey in front of you. And yet, Jake’s company made those forty minutes feel like five, and you found yourself disappointed when the bus neared your stop.

“If you want, we can still go walk Kiwi and Layla,” he offered shyly a few minutes before your stop, as if he’d read your mind. 

“I’d love to.” You watched as his small smile bloomed into a wider one.

“I’m glad,” he chuckled, relieved. “I was scared you’d be tired of me after spending the whole afternoon together,” he admitted, looking down at his lap with a bashful expression on his face. It wasn’t often that Jake looked timid like this, but whenever he did, your heart tripled in size.

“I don’t think I could get tired of you.” You were too shy to look him in the eye while you said this, but in your peripheral, you saw his grin get impossibly wider and his eyebrows raise. He bumped your shoulder with his, making the both of you burst into giggles.

You were still smiling long after you’d come home from your walk.

—

Unfortunately for Jake, forcing you and Sunghoon to sit together for ninety minutes hadn’t resulted in the two of you confessing your undying love for the other and getting together - clearly, his plan hadn’t worked very well. But Jake, instead of coming up with another strategy, decided he should just basically do the same thing again and hope it went better this time. 

Bro night had been a tradition for the past three years that the boys only very rarely broke, in cases of illness, filial obligations or important competitions the following day. This wasn’t any one of those cases, but Jake decided bro night must be slightly sacrificed that night - for your and Sunghoon’s sake. Years down the line, he knew you’d thank him.

This was why he tricked you into thinking you had been invited to bro night (you’d heard a lot about it and considered it an honor to be included) when really, he made Jay promise not to show at the cinema so that you and Sunghoon could be alone. The two of them would make up an excuse about not being able to make it on time and show up later at the diner (“If you want to set them up, shouldn’t we also leave them alone after the movie?” Jay had asked Jake over the phone, and Jake had been unable to explain why he didn’t want you to spend the whole night alone with Sunghoon).

“They ditched us,” Sunghoon had said in lieu of a greeting when you found him at the entrance of the cinema. He turned his phone screen towards you, showing you their group chat - Jay had had some sort of meeting at his school that had run late and Jake had to go to the vet suddenly because Layla kept making weird noises.

“Oh no, I hope she’ll be okay,” you said, voice laced with genuine worry.

Sunghoon just sighed. “I’m sure she will.” He knew what his friends were up to - it almost never happened that one of them was unable to make it to bro night, so two at once? They were clearly lying. He would make sure to tell Jake how worried sick you were about his dog’s fake illness later on just so his friend would feel extra guilty.

You had been looking forward to hanging out with Jake and his friends all day, so you were disappointed to know he wouldn’t make it until later. It wasn’t much comfort that the movie they had picked, some recent Marvel release, was one you were not at all interested in, and you couldn’t even obsess over Jake’s presence next to you instead of the movie because he wasn’t there. You’d have to sit with awkward, quiet Sunghoon for God knows how long - at least the cinema wasn’t much of a talking place. 

You declined his kind offer of sharing a big popcorn tub - you didn’t want to risk a cliché reaching-for-popcorn-at-the-same-time moment with Sunghoon, although you’d daydreamed and giggled about it happening with Jake earlier that day. Instead, you sipped grumpily on your Cherry Coke, watching the trailers for upcoming movies and discussing them with Sunghoon. (“I’m so excited for the Barbie movie,” he’d surprised you by saying. Maybe he wasn’t so bad.)

As the lights dimmed, announcing the imminent start of the movie, Sunghoon whispered something that completely changed your mind about Marvel. “It’s so stupid that Jake isn’t here, seriously. He’s been going on and on about going to see this movie since the trailer came out.” Suddenly, you’d never felt the need to pay attention to something more than this. 

Well, in your humble opinion, the film wasn’t anything to write home about. It was a lot of loud action scenes with some funny one-liners that, okay, you chuckled at. And the actors were hot. You could sort of see why Jake would enjoy Marvel movies, although you yourself liked films with more social commentary, such as Mean Girls or Bee Movie. You’d need to make Jake watch Twilight one of these days - you were sure he’d like the soundtrack, if nothing else.

At least, you and Sunghoon have something to talk about during your short walk to the diner. As you enter the restaurant, a familiar voice calling out your name catches you off-guard.

“Chaewon? I thought you didn’t work on Friday nights!” you exclaimed, letting your friend bring you into a hug. You gave her a once-over - she always looked so pretty in her work uniform, white t-shirt dress draping her body perfectly, apron cinching at her waist, and short pigtails under her 50’s style diner hat. If the blush spreading on Sunghoon’s cheeks at her sudden appearance was anything to go by, his thoughts might not have been too far from yours.

She pouted, taking your hands in hers and swaying them between the two of you. “I usually don’t, but Yunjin asked me to trade shifts and she always says yes when I ask her, so I felt bad saying no.” You nodded and she turned to Sunghoon.

“Hi, Sunghoon!”

“H-hi, Chaewon.”

“Where’s Jay and Jake?” she asked, looking behind the two of you. You’d told the group chat about your evening plans and a lot of freaking out had taken place. 

“Should be here any minute,” you sighed, and when she looked at you questioningly, you told her you’d explain later.

She sat you at a four-person booth by the window and brought you drinks (“On the house,” she’d said with a wink, but you weren’t sure this had been allowed by any of her superiors) for you to sip on while you waited for the others. Every time she was free, she came over to your table and gossiped about the customers. You did not miss the way Sunghoon’s face lit up whenever she approached you.

Jake and Jay see you before you see them. Jay, the only one with a driver’s license out of the three, had picked Jake up, and he was parking his car when Jake gasped loudly, making Jay jump. “I’m trying to park, man, can you be calm?”

“What’s she doing here?” Jake exclaimed, completely ignoring his friend.

Jay followed Jake’s gaze, but he wasn’t sure what his friend was going on about. All he saw was you, whom he recognized from pictures only, Sunghoon, and a waitress that seemed overly-friendly. “Who?” he asked.

“Chaewon,” Jake hissed, like her name was a curse. “She’s ruining our plan!”

Jay sighed. “First of all, this is your plan. Second of all, it was ruined from the beginning. And by that, I mean that your plan sucks, Jake.”

Jake clicked his teeth. “Whatever. Let’s just go,” he said, getting out of the car and heading straight for you. He made sure to give Chaewon a pointed look as he sat next to you in the booth, but she just seemed happy that more people had arrived. 

You bumped your knee into his to get his attention. “Hi,” you said with a smile.

He looked at you dumbly for a few seconds before Jay cleared his throat awkwardly. “Hi. This is Jay,” he said, tilting his head towards the boy but not taking his eyes off of you. You and Jay exchanged hey’s before Chaewon took your order, quickly giving it to the kitchen and scanning the room to make sure every table had what they needed, then headed back to your table. 

“Is Layla okay?” you asked Jake, worry making your brows furrow.

“Huh?” The sudden mention of his dog took him aback. Why wouldn’t she be okay?

“Layla?” you repeated, tilting your head. “Is she okay? You said you had to go to the vet.”

His eyes widened as he remembered his lie from earlier, and he started nodding frantically. “Oh yeah, yeah, she’s fine, we panicked over nothing,” he said with a nervous giggle. Jake was the worst liar Jay and Sunghoon had ever seen, but you were none the wiser.

“What about you, Jay? How was your school thing?” Sunghoon asked, turning to his friend with a glare and making him choke on his Coke.

“Oh, that was fine too, I guess,” Jay mumbled.

As expected, Jake and Chaewon were experts at leading the conversation, and Jay himself was pretty talkative. They all bounced off of each other naturally, and even Sunghoon knew how to throw in witty remarks now and there. You also participated, but you were more than happy just listening to them and laughing along. You tried not to think too much about how your knee would bump into Jake’s once in a while, or how he seemed to look at you every time he made a joke.

At some point, Chaewon had rushed over to your table, looking right at you with wide eyes and beaming. “Oh my God Oh my God Oh my God, Y/N, hat guy is here!” 

You instantly mirrored her expression. “Where where where?” you asked, lifting your body up to scan around the restaurant.

“Over there in the corner, but be discreet!”

You were not at all discreet as your eyes found said hat guy, noting with satisfaction that he was characteristically hatless, and you burst into laughter. “I can’t believe he’s here!”

“Right? Probably has the munchies or something,” Chaewon said, laughing along.

You only noticed then the perplexed looks all three boys were sending your way. “Who the heck is hat guy?” Jake asked, which only made you and Chaewon laugh harder.

“You wouldn’t get it,” she replied airily, waving Jake off as she made her way to a customer who had called for her. 

The boys turned to you and you shrunk in your seat at their attention. “Just a guy the girls and I find funny,” you explained, shrugging and glancing quickly at Sunghoon. If only he knew about all the times you and the girls had gossiped about him, even though he’d done nothing of importance.

When her shift was over, the first thing Chaewon did was take off her apron, then dragged you to the bathroom, where she drilled you for details about your cinema “date” with Sunghoon. 

“It was not a date, it just ended up being the two of us because the others couldn’t make it,” you insisted, but she wasn’t having it. “There’s nothing to say anyway. We got there, talked a bit, watched the movie, walked here, and that’s it.”

Chaewon sighed, shaking her head as she reapplied her lip gloss. A small smile made its way onto your lips. “I think he’s into someone else anyway.” 

You noticed how her hand faltered for a split second. “Oh yeah? Who?” she asked, trying to appear nonchalant, but you knew your friend too well. 

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” 

Unbeknownst to either of you, the discussion between the boys back at the table was not too different from yours.

“Bro, I’m literally going to kill you,” Sunghoon whisper-yelled even though you were way out of earshot already. “Do you know how awkward that was?”

“Just so you know, I had nothing to do with this,” Jay said. “I told him that putting two socially constipated idiots like you wouldn’t end well, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“Y/N’s not an idiot!” Jake immediately reacted.

“And I am?!” Sunghoon retorted.

Jay just rolled his eyes.

“You are, because this is the second time you’re alone together with the girl you like and you can barely make conversation with her.”

“For the last time, I don’t like her, I just called her cute once in freshman year-”

“Same thing!”

“Jake, I don’t know how many times I can tell you the same thing before you get it. I’ve been around Y/N enough to know I don’t like her like that, okay? We’ve had two classes where we sat together for a whole semester, and we’ve worked with other people in group projects. Not to mention, you’ve made me sit through one of your practices with her. She’s nice. She sends me the homework when I miss class. She even laughs at my jokes sometimes. And her dog is super cute. I’m sure we’d be better friends if we both didn’t have crippling shyness, but I don’t like her like that. I just don’t.”

“But how?!”

“What do you mean how? This sorta thing doesn’t have any sort of reasonable answer, you just do or you don’t. I don’t. Clearly, you do.”

Jake heard the last part of Sunghoon’s words, and promptly decided to ignore them. He had to understand this first - he’d figure out his feelings later. “This whole time, I thought you were just downplaying your feelings, ‘cause you’re an awkward asshole who doesn’t do emotions,” he said, eyes tightly shut and holding his head, the confusion making his brain hurt.

“Okay, ouch. But no, I wasn’t. I really don’t know what got into your head.”

“I know what got into his head,” Jay said. Both of his friends looked at him questioningly, so he went on. “When Sunghoon mentioned Y/N, you probably thought she was super cute too, Jake. But because of bro code and whatnot, you didn’t wanna show any interest. And then as you saw her around more, you probably liked her more, but you thought Sunghoon liked her, so you sort of gave him your crush on her instead of dealing with it. You lived vicariously through him, basically. Except you’re an idiot because he doesn’t even like her like that, so you could’ve shot your shot a long time ago already. I don’t know why you didn’t just listen to him, to be honest,” Jay finished, shrugging.

“You also thought he liked her!” Jake retorted.

“That’s besides the point. The point is that you’re stupid.”

“But- but, what about all those times you talked about her? I didn’t make those up!” 

Sunghoon rolled his eyes. “The most I ever said about her was something like, Y/N and I both forgot our textbook today, or Y/N brought cookies for the class because it’s her birthday. You were always the one to notice her everywhere and go, There’s your crush, or something.”

Jake sighed, defeated. He could admit Sunghoon was right about something, and he was wrong - but he hated that Jay was also right. Had he really managed to bury his feelings for you all these years just for what he thought was Sunghoon’s sake? Sure, he was a loyal friend, but that felt a little much.

“Whatever,” he mumbled, recoiling from his friends’ expectant gazes and taking a sad bite of his cheeseburger. “It’s not like she likes me back, or anything.” 

He watched in confusion as Sunghoon let out a loud groan, screwing his eyes shut and taking his head in his hands as if it hurt. “This is so frustrating, I’m going to kill myself.”

Jake turned to Jay for some sort of explanation to their friend’s sudden suicidal thoughts, but Jay just looked back at Jake with disgust. “When did you become so dumb? I swear you didn’t use to be like this,” he said, shaking his head in disappointment.

Jake’s eyes flickered between his two friends in utter dismay. “What?”

“Jake,” Jay started. “Do you really, honestly, genuinely think Y/N doesn’t like you?”

The boy leaned back in his seat with a pout. “Yeah,” he mumbled.

Sunghoon’s head whipped up at this. Jake gulped at the intense glare his friend fixed him with - he’d never looked so angry with him, and it made Jake wonder what on Earth he could have said or done that made Sunghoon so upset. “Why?” he asked simply, but the frustration was evident in his voice.

Your diary popped up in Jake’s head. What he had read was clear. Of course, the entry dated from over a month ago now, but why would your feelings have changed since then? Jake sighs deeply, getting ready to reveal to his friends what he’d seen, but then he sees you and Chaewon emerging from the bathroom. “They’re coming back,” he mumbled.

It was Sunghoon and Jay’s turn to sigh. “Just pay attention to her, Jake, okay?” Jay instructed, giving his friend an intent look.

“I already do,” Jake replied, frowning.

“No, really pay attention to her. Then use your pea-sized brain for once in your life, and maybe you’ll realize something.”

A strongly-worded reply was on the tip of Jake’s tongue, but all thoughts of violence and murdering his friend were replaced by images of rainbows and pretty flowers when you smiled at him. He felt like the biggest of idiots for liking you so much and only realizing it now.

“Hi,” he said dumbly as you found your seat next to him again, then stole a french fry from you even though he had many left himself. When you gasped at his audacity, he just giggled.

“Hey!” you exclaimed in protest before stealing a fry back. 

If you hadn’t been so caught up in your little world, you’d have noticed the knowing look your three friends exchanged and their simultaneous eye roll. 

—

The following Monday, you decided to have your tutoring session at your house instead of Jake’s. His mom was away at a convention for the week, so you’d have to take the bus anyway - since your house was two stops earlier, you offered to switch it up for once. Jake had never actually been inside your house and was curious to see what it was like, so he eagerly agreed. 

Kiwi was happy to see him and followed the two of you around the house as you gave Jake a quick tour before going up to your room. When you reached the top landing, you realized that Kiwi was still at the bottom of the stairs and was looking up at you expectantly. “Is she not allowed upstairs?” Jake asked.

“Usually not, but I let her come up when my mom’s not here. Come on Kiwi! It’s okay!”

Kiwi didn’t need to be told twice - she trudged her little body up the stairs, and you couldn’t help but giggle at her adorableness. “She’s so cute,” you cooed, looking at your dog with a huge smile on your face.

“She really is,” Jake agreed, but when you turned your head to face him, he wasn’t looking at Kiwi - he was looking straight at you, a softness in his eyes that made your stomach turn. He snapped out of it when he noticed your round, surprised eyes, and cleared his throat. “So, where’s your room?” he asked, looking around the hallway and avoiding your gaze.

“Over there,” you replied, fighting the smile that tried to make its way to your lips as you headed towards your room, Jake and Kiwi following right behind. 

You told Jake to wait for a second as you went to get a second chair. When you came back, he was standing in front of your shelves, upper body slightly bent forwards to observe all the decorations and framed pictures closer. You placed the chair next to your desk then joined him, answering all the questions he had about the items on your shelves. Who’s this? When was this? Where did you get this? In his defense, you really did have a lot of things - you were trying to get rid of your hoarding habits, but you got attached to every small thing that held some sort of significance. You went to sit at the edge of your bed and just watched him, his eyes glinting with curiosity.

It reminded you of the first time you’d been to his house, how upset he’d seemed when you talked about his baby pictures and how you hadn’t wanted to risk looking at all the stuff in his room. You were also curious about things like that, and you wondered once again what had bothered him so much. The question was burning your tongue - although you were nervous to ask it, not wanting to upset Jake once more, you now knew him well enough to know he wasn’t the type to stay mad for long. 

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Jake replied, fingers toying with your favorite Littlest Pet Shop figurine you had kept from when you were eight.

“Why didn’t you want me to look at your baby photos that one time?”

Jake paused at your words. He stood up straight and set the figurine back on the shelf. He glanced at you before walking over to your bed and taking a seat next to you, leaning back on his palms while you rested your hands underneath your thighs. 

“You probably noticed I don’t mention my dad, right? Or the fact that he’s never home?” 

You nodded in response. You had noticed it, but you’d never brought the topic up in case it might be sensitive. Jake sighed. “He passed away when I was six.”

You turned your head towards him. To your surprise, his face remained expressionless - you couldn’t detect any sort of sadness or anger in his features, as if he was just reciting a fact. His uncharacteristic numbness upset you even more than any tears could have. 

He met your gaze and gave you a small smile. “I was so young that I only have very vague memories of him, like playing soccer together in the backyard or a trip to the beach with my parents and my brother. I only remember his face and his voice from the photos and videos my mom has shown me.” He sighed again, shifting forwards and resting his hands in his lap, fiddling with his fingers. “So when I see these pictures, they sort of just remind me of what I’ve lost? I really don’t like lingering on them. I sort of just ignore them every time I walk up or down the stairs.”

“I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have mentioned them if I’d known-”

Jake is quick to shake his head. “No, no, don’t be sorry. You couldn’t have guessed.” You want to comfort Jake in some way, thank him for telling you something so personal, but you’re not sure what words to use - so, instead, you take one of his hands in yours and bring it to your lap, then cover it with your other one. Your eyes meet for a second - he looks slightly taken aback at first, but then, his eyes drift down to your joined hands, and a small blush spreads on his cheeks.

“I’m- I’m okay, really. Like I said, it happened so long ago that I’m used to not having a dad now. It almost feels like it’s always been that way, which makes it even weirder to think it wasn’t. It’s just… It feels weird to miss someone I barely remember so much, you know?”

You nodded and let out a low hum. “I do know.” Jake tilted his head at you, silently asking you to go on. “It’s different, but I get that feeling of missing something you barely remember. I have these blurry memories of my parents being happy together and the three of us being a happy family, and then all of a sudden it’s hearing arguments from my room and my dad moving out, and they’re asking me, Do you wanna live with mom or dad?”

You watched as Jake moved his hand slightly, intertwining your fingers together and squeezing your hand. “I was older than you were when they divorced, so I guess I have more memories to hold onto, but they hurt more than anything.” You let out a deep sigh. “My dad cheated, so it’s not like I wished my mom had stayed with him, but I was too young to understand what was happening. I just wanted my parents together again.” 

When you lifted your head to look at him, he met your gaze, and his eyes were so soft yet so intense, like he was seeing right into you. Then he chuckled. “Do you ever get jealous of other people’s parents?” he asks, a shy smile playing on his lips.

“All the time,” you admitted with a chuckle, relieved to find out you weren’t the only one. “Yena has been blessed with these like, practically perfect parents that are still in love after twenty years, never argue and have a healthy relationship with all of their kids. I’m so in awe every time I see them.”

“Sunghoon’s parents are like that. I feel terrible, but every time they come to cheer him on at his competitions, I just get so jealous, wishing I also had three people coming to see my games and not just two. And I always feel so silly for feeling that way.”

“You’re not silly for that, Jake,” you said, and the honesty in your voice seemed to take him aback slightly. A grin spread on your lips. “You may be silly for other things, but not for that,” you teased, making him chuckle. “I can be your third person, if you want,” you said softly, lightly bumping your shoulder against his.

His eyes seemed to light up at your words, and your smile couldn’t help but get wider at his reaction - that was, until he raised an eyebrow, almost defiantly. “Yeah? I thought you found soccer boring,” he said with a playful smirk.

“It’s not boring if you’re the one playing,” you replied. A small noise of surprise escaped his throat before he could help it, not expecting you to be so forward, and you both burst into giggles. 

He cleared his throat when you both calmed down and stood up straighter, trying to put on a cool front. “Of course it isn’t.” He turned his head to look out the window, and the sight of the sunlight perfectly hitting his features and turning his dark brown eyes a hazel color almost took your breath away. “It’s really nice out,” he suddenly said. He turned back to you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “How about we ditch the tutoring for today and go out?”

His eyes drifted down to your lips, watching as a smile tugged at the corners of your own. “I’m in.”

That was how you found yourselves sitting at a bench in the park close to your house, eating ice cream and watching Kiwi and Layla play together. You tried each other’s ice cream, and you regretted your choice of simple vanilla and strawberry as soon as Jake’s mango ice cream touched your tongue. Your eyes widened at the amazing taste - it felt like you had bit into an actual mango. 

“Good, right?” Jake asked, chuckling at your reaction.

“What the heck, yours is so much better than mine,” you mumbled, pouting at the ice cream in your cup like it had personally hurt you.

Jake thought for a second, looking back and forth between your upset expression and his own cup. “Wanna switch?”

Your heart was screaming yes, but your brain was screaming no. You tried your best to appear genuine when you smiled at him. “No, don’t worry about it. I still like mine.” You looked at him as you scooped another spoonful into your mouth as if to prove to him you were happy with your choice, even going so far as to hum in delight.

Jake just chuckled and shook his head at you, taking your cup and giving you his anyway. You were about to protest until he started eating your ice cream, imitating your previous hum. You quietly accepted the exchange, smiling as you tasted the mango ice cream again and trying to ignore the fact that Jake hadn’t switched the spoons with the cups, so you were using his and he was using yours. 

As you ate in silence, occasionally chuckling at your dogs’ antics, Jake stole some glances at you. He wasn’t sure why you looked so much prettier today than all the times he’d seen you before. Or maybe you were just as pretty as you’d always been, and he was just finally letting himself admit it. 

He may have had many friends, but there weren’t many people Jake was truly himself around. He always felt the need to be this friendly, outgoing guy that made it seem like everything was going well in his life, but with you, he felt like it was okay to stop pretending. He felt like it was okay to ask for help, like it was okay to reveal the darker parts of his life.

Now that Jay and Sunghoon had practically forced him to see the truth, Jake didn’t know what to do about his feelings for you. He finally understood why he always looked forward to your tutoring sessions, why he was so excited whenever he walked past you in the hallways, and why he was so bothered about you and Sunghoon getting along.

Sunghoon. Because even if Jake now knew that he liked you, he also knew that you liked someone else. And what was the point of letting himself fall for you even more when there was no happy ending in sight for him? He’d only get hurt in the end.

Just as the thought hit him, you turned to look at him and meet his gaze, a soft smile on your lips. Every time you smiled at him like that, Jake felt like he was watching a movie. Everything happened in slow-motion, with flowers falling around you and violins playing in the background. Jake almost felt sick, knowing he was only the second lead in your romance movie. He was the stupid werewolf and Sunghoon was the vampire that glistened in the sun and got the girl. (You had convinced him to watch Twilight, saying it was a mandatory watch to understand who you were as a person. Of course, Jake had streamed it that same night. The soundtrack was surprisingly good.)

Your voice snapped him out of his downward-spiraling thoughts. “You know, I almost got scared that Sunghoon would appear out of thin air and start hanging out with us.”

Jake tried not to sneer at the mention of his best-friend-turned-number-one-nemesis. “Why? Wouldn’t you like that?” he mumbled, clearly doing a poor job of seeming unaffected.

You frowned, then lowered your head, focusing your gaze on your almost-finished ice cream. “No, I’d rather if it was just the two of us.” Jake’s eyes widened, unsure if he’d heard that correctly or not. But before he could say anything in response, you spoke again. “It’s just, he was there when I came to watch your practice and when I thought we were all going to see a movie together, it was just him and me. You would’ve liked that movie, by the way,” you said, looking up at Jake with a smile.

Jake’s heart swelled. He wasn’t sure what what you were saying all meant, but unconsciously, his lips mirrored yours and he smiled back at you. Until he remembered you didn’t like him, and his smile fell immediately. Obviously, you had no idea what he was thinking, so his sudden stony expression sent alarms ringing through your head.

“It’s not that I don’t like him, or anything,” you said, panicked, and Jake had to keep himself from scoffing, “it’s just that- you know. It’s nice to hang out with you outside of tutoring sessions,” you finished, mumbling. 

Jake had no idea what you were saying, so he stayed quiet, watching as Kiwi and Layla ran around in circles. You liked Sunghoon, so why would you rather hang out with Jake and not him? You weren’t making any sense. 

You, on the other hand, were not liking Jake’s uncharacteristic silence. In hopes of getting his attention, you crossed one leg over the other, shifting on the bench to face him. “Plus, don’t you think he and Chaewon really hit it off the other night? I think that was the most I’ve ever heard him talk,” you said, trying to lighten the atmosphere. To your dismay, it didn’t work. You didn’t know whether he was sulking or genuinely upset - all you knew was you desperately wanted to see a smile on his pretty face again.

“Jakey?” you called out, and your voice sounded so small it hurt his heart. He hummed in response, only glancing at you for a fraction of a second. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” he replied, scooping the last of the ice cream in his mouth. As he tasted the strawberry and vanilla flavors, he couldn’t believe he had given his precious mango ice cream up all for a girl who didn’t even like him back. What a fool.

“I don’t know, you’re all- weird, all of a sudden, for lack of a better word.” You searched for some sort of an answer in his eyes, but he supplied you with none. 

Jake sighed deeply. He could feel the ugly mix of emotions in his belly turning into anger - anger at what exactly, he wasn’t sure, but he didn’t want to lay it on you. “It’s just the heat, it’s making me tired,” he said. Sure, it was warm for a May afternoon, but it wasn’t that hot. But you didn’t want to push it.

“Should we go home?“ you offered, and the worry in your voice made him feel even worse. He just couldn’t understand why you were being so nice to him. He knew you probably just thought you were looking after a friend, but he'd rather you not care about his well-being and leave him be. He didn’t need one more reason to like you - he already had plenty of those. 

He nodded, mustering as convincing a smile as he could. “Sure.” 

The walk home was much quieter than usual. You could feel that Jake was keeping something to himself, and it was killing you; but whatever it was, you wanted him to tell you when he felt ready and not feel forced to. Your hand was aching, desperate to reach out and grab his as you had done before, but you were afraid that would only push him away even further. So you stayed silent most of the time, only commenting on the things around you or speaking a thought out loud when you thought it might make Jake smile. Every time his lips curled up, even ever so slightly, your heart swelled with relief.

Unbeknownst to you, Jake was making up his mind. He knew he needed time away from you to gather his feelings before he could see you as a friend again. 

When you reached your house, Jake waited outside with the dogs as you grabbed his bag he’d left upstairs. You hugged goodbye as always, but this one was different - it lasted a few seconds longer than usual, and you could swear Jake held you tighter than he normally would. It felt like he was saying goodbye for more than just a couple days.

You didn’t understand why it made your heart ache so much.

—

The next day, when you walked past Jake and Sunghoon in the hallway, Jake barely glanced at you and only tilted his head in your general direction instead of his usual wide grin and wave. You were so shocked by his sudden snubbing that you halted in your steps right away, looking behind you at his retreating figure. You locked eyes with Sunghoon, who seemed just as confused as you felt. He shrugged at you before returning to his friend and nudging his arm.

On Wednesday morning, you got a text from Jake that he couldn’t make it to your tutoring session that afternoon because of an extra soccer practice to prepare for their game that weekend, something he had never mentioned before.

Thursday and Friday weren’t very different, and your heart became heavier with every time you walked past each other and he acted like you weren’t even there. You desperately wanted to know what you’d done wrong, why he’d started to reply in one-word sentences instead of his usual voice messages and tons of emojis, but no matter how much you cogitated, you couldn’t figure it out. Even when you asked him how his game had gone, a dry Good stared back at you from your phone screen.

That Saturday, your girlfriends came over. Yena had brought beads and strings to make accessories out of, and the mere sight of them had brought fond memories back to all four of you - during your first sleepover in freshman year, this was the exact activity that had kept you occupied for hours. 

You got started on them immediately, each finding a comfortable spot in your room as soft music played in the background. You lay on your bed while Chaewon and Yena took over the floor and Hyewon sat at your desk.

“I’m gonna make one of those phone accessories,” Yena said excitedly, reaching for the biggest, most colorful beads.

“I’m gonna make couple bracelets for Jaemin and I,” Hyewon said somewhat shyly but beaming. Yena and Chaewon groaned at her words, but they gave you an idea.

“You guys are vomit-inducing,” Yena replied, and if you didn’t know your friend any better, just going off the tone of her voice, you’d have thought she was being serious. Hyewon just rolled her eyes, used to this daily slander she received simply for being in a relationship.

“I’ll make something for my little sister,” Chaewon butted in, and you and Yena simultaneously ‘aww’ed. 

“So it’s aww when Chaewon does it for her sister, and it’s vomit-inducing when I do it for my boyfriend?” Hyewon exclaimed, appalled.

“Little sisters are cute. Boyfriends are gross,” Yena replied matter-of-factly, making you giggle.

“Whatever. You guys are just jealous that you’re dying alone and I’m not. What are you making, Y/N?” she asked before Yena could retort again. The two exchanged a glare as you thought over your answer.

“I’m not saying,” you replied with a giggle. 

“She’s making one for Jake, that evil wench,” Chaewon immediately said, making your eyes widen. Yena gasped dramatically while Hyewon smiled at you.

“How did you know?” you asked Chaewon.

“Just your face. You’re so obvious,” she snickered. 

“You’re a traitor, Y/N!” Yena exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at you, and you hid your face in your hands, muttering an apology. “Wasting time and energy on a boy.”

“Don’t listen to her, Y/N. Whatever it is you make, he’ll be super happy you thought of him. Then he’ll finally ask you out and you’ll live happily ever after, just like me and Jaemin,” Hyewon said with a serene smile on her face. Chaewon and Yena exchanged a look, then faked a gagging sound. “So bitter,” Hyewon muttered, shaking her head at your friends.

“I’m not sure about that,” you sighed. “I just want to be friends again. He’s been ignoring me all week.”

All three snapped their heads up at you. “He’s been ignoring you?” Yena echoed, and you meekly nodded. “Give me his phone number. No, give me his address. I’m going there right now,” she said, already sitting up.

“Gosh, Yena, it’s fine,” you said, gesturing at her to sit back down, laughing at your friend’s seriousness. “I’ll see him on Monday anyway, I can just see how he behaves then.”

Yena didn’t look convinced, but she yielded anyway. “If he hurts you, I swear I’ll give him a stern talking to. And a broken nose.” You laughed as you thanked your friend. 

Hyewon asked for more details about this Jake situation, so you filled your friends in about his mysterious behavior that week. Chaewon had been the only one to see it firsthand, when you’d walked to a class together and Jake had walked past you without saying anything. You told them about his sparse answers to your texts, his lack of response to the TikToks you sent him. He wasn’t even reacting to your BeReals anymore. It was just such a complete switch-up in attitude that you had no idea what to make of it. They tried to come up with reasons for it, but it really didn’t make much sense. It just felt like he suddenly decided to hate you - or maybe you had been interpreting everything wrong, and the two of you had never been friends in the first place. 

“This is so confusing,” Chaewon suddenly said, seeming lost in thought. “I thought for sure that he liked you.”

“Liked… me?” you echoed.

“Yeah. Just the way he was when we were at the diner. He kept looking at you and was always smiling and blushing whenever you talked to him. Also the way Jay and Sunghoon were behaving. Boys are so obvious when their friend likes someone, it’s like they’re trying to fumble it for him. And I mean, anyone with functioning eyes can see that you like him too, so I don’t know why he’s doing this all of a sudden.”

Yena sighed. “Boys are stupid.”

“That, they are,” you agreed, sighing as well and returning your attention to your craft. Maybe a simple gift like this wouldn’t fix what was going on between you and Jake, but you had to at least try. You couldn’t let go of your friendship so easily.

Even though it seemed as though he could.

Nothing changed the next week. On Monday, you woke up to a text that pulled your heart down into your stomach.

jakey-poo i think we should stop tutoring each other for now

For an hour as you ate breakfast and got ready for school, you ruminated over your answer, only to ask him a simple why? in the end.

jakey-poo i’m to busy w soccer practice and other stuff we can start again when exams are near

you oh okay

You felt pathetic, but you had no idea what to say. You couldn’t force him into this, and you definitely couldn’t show up at his house and demand a better explanation. If you were Yena or Chaewon, maybe you could - but you weren’t. You couldn’t even bring yourself to ask him if the two of you could still hang out outside of that, so scared you were for his inevitable rejection.

During the week, you tried to find a time when you could give him your small handmade gift, but Jake wasn’t even looking you in the eyes anymore. The only time you made eye contact with him over those five days was on Wednesday at lunch - as you walked into the cafeteria, you scanned the whole room, unconsciously searching for him. When you did, he was already looking at you - he was close enough for you to see the slight frown in his eyebrows, the lack of the usual glint in his eyes. But as soon as he’d seen you’d found him, he turned away. You only looked away when Chaewon called out your name.

In the few classes you had together, he always slipped away before you could get to him. Him walking past you like he couldn’t even see you broke your heart a little bit more every time, and by Friday, you had completely given up. Your friendship with Jake was over, and you had no idea why, no idea who or what to blame.

Monday and Wednesday afternoons felt empty now that you had gotten used to spending them with him, and you couldn’t even walk Kiwi without missing him. He seemed to miss Jake and Layla too - he’d sometimes tilt his head at you as if asking where your new friends were, and when you got to the park, he’d gloomily stick to you instead of running around like he usually would, especially when Layla was there.

The worst part was at night, when your thoughts kept you up. You’d reread your and Jake’s text conversations, wondering what went so wrong so quickly, warm tears spilling from your eyes out of sadness and tiredness. On those nights, you’d sneak Kiwi up to your room and let him cuddle up to you in your bed. You’d comfort each other that way.

You had no idea that a couple kilometers away, Jake lay in bed sleepless as well, Layla at the edge of his bed and whining in her sleep. You had no idea that missing you had carved a deep hole in his chest.

—

Enough was enough.

It had been days since Layla had last seen Kiwi, and to a young pup like her, that felt like eternity. Lately, Jake hadn’t seemed happy to go on walks with her like he used to, and he barely had any energy to play with her. She also hadn’t seen you in days, and she wondered if that had anything to do with Jake’s recent despondency. 

But thankfully, Layla was a smart girl, so she knew exactly what to do to fix this dire situation. On Friday, she waited for Jake to come back from soccer practice and take her on a walk. As soon as they reached the sidewalk outside of their house, she pulled on her leash in the opposite direction of their usual route. Jake tried pulling her the other way, but she wouldn’t budge.

“We’re going that way, Layla,” Jake said, amused by his dog’s sudden stubbornness. Layla barked back. “Come on!” 

She was really not moving. “We never go that way,” Jake said, sighing. “That way’s the-”

That’s when he realized. Layla wanted to go to the park you went to with Kiwi. “But what if we ran into them?” Jake asked. 

Layla barked again. She wanted to say, That’s exactly why I want to go there, but of course Jake didn’t understand. He sighed again and obliged, letting Layla lead the way. She had a good feeling that she’d finally see her friends again today. 

Jake’s heart started beating faster with every step he took, knowing that you might be out right now, too. When he’d seen you at school, you’d seemed as sad as he was, and he felt terrible for perhaps being the reason behind it - but he didn’t know what else to do. He could either spare your feelings or his. If this was hurting you, he knew you’d move on quickly enough anyway - and when he came to terms with being just friends with you, he’d come back, and everything would be perfect like it used to be. Foolproof plan.

If there was one thing Jake had learned from the tutoring sessions with you, it was that the weather always reflected the protagonist’s inner thoughts. If they were upset, it would be gray and rainy - if they were happy, it would be warm and sunny. Jake glared at the sun, just another reminder that he wasn’t the main character in this story. If he was, it would be thundering and lightning would be striking.

As if his life was a joke, two minutes after Jake and Layla had walked into the park, he saw you. At least you were facing the other direction, so you couldn’t see him, and he could redirect his route to avoid you. But he let himself indulge in the moment for a few seconds. You had laid out a picnic blanket for you and Kiwi and rested on your stomach with your elbows propping you up, reading a book. Kiwi slept peacefully next to you - this dog was the furthest thing from a guard dog Jake had ever seen. You kicked your feet up in the air, flip flops discarded to the side of the blanket. Jake was happy to see you like this, enjoying the warmth of this sunny May afternoon. 

He was about to walk away, but a sudden movement caught his eye. Two school kids started running to you, and before you could even register their presence, one of them snatched your flip flops and they both sprinted away, shrieking with laughter like two little devils. Where the hell were their parents?!

Without thinking, Jake started running after them, and so did Kiwi and Layla. 

“Hey! Come back here!” Jake yelled, hoping in vain that these kids would listen to someone older than them. Kiwi did his best, but his tiny legs didn’t allow for such a chase - Layla, barking loudly at the thieves, was the first to reach them, and she managed to scare them so much, they tripped over their feet. But unlike them, she was well-behaved, so she sat once her job was done and waited for Jake to arrive. 

“What are you two doing? You can’t just steal other people’s things!” he admonished, holding onto his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

Both kids were already teary-eyed. “We just wanted to play a prank, we’re sorry!” one of them quickly said, voice shaky.

“It’s not to me you should apologize, but to her,” Jake said, turning around to point in your direction. That’s when he noticed you sitting on your knees, hands covering your face as your shoulders trembled. “You made her cry!” Jake exclaimed, tone much angrier than seconds prior. “Let’s go,” he said, grabbing the kids by their shoulders and forcing them to keep up with his quick steps.

You didn’t notice their presence in front of you until Jake prompted them. At the sound of the all too familiar voice, you whipped your head up. Jake swore he heard his heart breaking when he saw your red eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. You barely heard the kids’ apology, so amazed you were at suddenly seeing Jake.

“We’re sorry for stealing your flip-flops and making you cry,” the first one said.

“Sorry,” repeated the other one, handing you your shoes.

“Oh, right. Thanks, just don’t do it again,” you replied, sniffing as you took back your shoes.

“We won’t!” they replied in unison before running away once more.

Jake stood there awkwardly for a few seconds, unsure what to say. He watched you stare at your flip flops like you’d never seen them before in your life. “You’re not going to thank me for catching those delinquents?” he asked after a small while, chuckling slightly.

This made you look up at him. He gulped as your eyes met. Then, you burst into sobs again, and Jake started panicking. He crouched down to your level, first holding you by the shoulders then forcing your head out of your hands so he could wipe away your tears with the pads of his thumbs.

“No no no, why are you crying, Y/N?” he asked softly, pulling you into a hug.

You continued crying into his shoulder, ignoring Kiwi and Layla’s confused stares. “You- you- I haven’t seen you in ages!” you exclaimed.

Jake sighed. He didn’t understand why you were crying like this for him, all he knew was that he’d never felt so awful. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he whispered into your hair, pulling your shaking body closer to him. “I’m sorry.”

You leaned back to glare at Jake, your bottom lip jutting out in discontent. “Do you even know how much I missed you?”

Jake held your head in his hands like it was the most precious thing in the world. Mouth agape in surprise, he looked at you with sad eyes. “You… you did?”

Your eyebrows creased. “Of course I did!” Another sob rippled through your body, and Jake took you back in his arms, wrapping them around your shoulders and resting his cheek against your hair. 

“I missed you too.”

“Then why did you do this?” you asked, voice breaking.

“Because I didn’t want to get hurt,” Jake whispered back. “But I didn’t think I’d hurt you. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

You leaned back again, but this time, you looked confused rather than angry. His eyes were soft as they scanned your face and as he brushed strands of your hair back behind your ears. “Why would you get hurt?” you asked again, bringing your voice to the same volume as his.

Jake sighed and squeezed his eyes shut for a second, as if in pain, before opening them again and boring them into yours. “I like you so, so much Y/N. So much so that I don’t know what to do with myself. But I know that you don’t feel the same way, and I was scared that by staying by your side, I’d just fall in love with you even more and get hurt in the end. So I pushed you away because I didn’t know what else to do, but I’m so sorry I- You’re crying again?”

Your fists grabbed at the front of Jake’s t-shirt as sobs raked through your body once more. It was official - Jake was the stupidest person you’d ever met. And you were in love with him.

“Why are you crying?”

“Because I like you too, you idiot!” you yelled back. Your tears were probably staining his t-shirt, but you couldn’t care less. He liked you. Jake liked you.

You were too busy crying to see Jake’s eyes slowly widening in disbelief. “You what?!”

Gently, Jake pushed your shoulders back so he could look at you. Even with puffy eyes and a runny nose, you were the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. Pretty like an angel that had graced the Earth with her presence. “You what?” he repeated, just to hear you say it again.

“I like you, Jake. I’m so in love with you it's actually pathetic,” you said with a chuckle, looking down out of shyness. But when you looked back up, Jake’s eyes were going back and forth between yours, the expression on his face like he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard but desperately hoped it was true.

As you locked eyes, both of your faces lit up with grins. You burst into laughter together, finding each other’s hands and intertwining your fingers together. Then Jake brought you back into his arms, holding tightly, as if he was scared you might disappear any second. Kiwi and Layla had long walked away to give the two of you some needed privacy.

In each other’s arms, you rocked side to side gently and laughed for no reason other than the incredible fact your feelings were reciprocated. “You stink, you know,” you suddenly said in-between giggles. “You sweat while you ran after those kids.”

“I sweat? You mean I swote, right?” Jake asked a pause.

You leaned back to look at Jake. “Swote?” you echoed, and he nodded. Your umpteenth smile made your cheeks lift. “You have to be kidding-”

“I am,” Jake cut off, mirroring your smile. “I just wanted to make you laugh.”

You gasped and lightly punched his chest before letting your body fall against his again. “You’re so silly,” you said, sighing in bliss at the sound of his giggles.

Then all of a sudden, Jake pulled away and looked at you, almost frightened. “What about Sunghoon?” 

“What about him?” you asked back, confused by Jake’s question.

“I thought you- Didn’t you- you know…”

You tilted your head at Jake, a small grin spreading on your lips again. “I don’t know.”

“I thought you liked him…” Jake mumbled, looking away with a pout.

Before you could stop it, a noise of confusion left your throat. You looked at Jake like he was insane. “I can barely have a conversation with Sunghoon, what made you think I liked him?”

Jake pursed his lips and let a resigned puff of air out of his nose. “I, um- Remember when we mixed our backpacks up?” he asked and you nodded, smiling at the fun memory. “I may have, um, I may have read… your… diary,” he admitted, voice getting quieter with each word. He dared a glance at you - you looked horrified, eyes wide and mouth agape. “And you wrote that you liked Sunghoon,” he finished with a whisper.

It was silent for a few seconds, and Jake was bracing himself for a slap to the face or your screams, until you did the last thing Jake expected you to do - you laughed. You laughed so hard and for so long that he got scared you had gone insane and this was the first part of your mental breakdown before you murdered him in cold blood for having invaded your privacy. He would’ve deserved it, he thought.

“I don’t- oh my God, Jake, I don’t- I don’t like Sunghoon. I never really have, or not in the way you think, I can’t- oh my God,” you explained in between giggles, trying to catch your breath but starting to laugh again every time you managed to compose yourself. Jake tried to laugh along, but he was too confused to do so properly.

“You’re not mad?” Jake asked, eyebrows furrowed with worry.

“No,” you replied, shaking your head and the last giggles out of your throat. “You read it ages ago, and we didn’t even know each other back then, there’s no point in being mad now. It’s just funny - I know exactly why you think I liked Sunghoon, but I didn’t. Not really. And even if I did, those feelings are nothing compared to the ones I have for you now,” you said, beaming. A blush spread on Jake’s cheeks, and you could tell he was trying (and failing) to contain a proud grin.

You explained to Jake the ‘character’ thing you and your friends had going on and that Sunghoon (and hat guy) just happened to be one of them - you watched as Jake narrowed his eyes and slowly nodded, trying to understand this concept that was so foreign to him. 

“You know, it all makes a lot more sense now,” Jake said when you were explaining. “It would’ve been weird for you to like Sunghoon when I was right there.” He smirked down at you as you playfully rolled your eyes. 

“Oh my God!” you suddenly exclaimed, startling Jake in the process. Dramatic as always, he put a hand over his heart and exhaled loudly. “I have something for you. For us, actually.” You reached into your bag and got out the two accessories you’d made for you and Jake. “These are for us to put on our backpacks, so that we don’t confuse them again. They also match.”

Jake’s eyes were fixated on the string of beads as you placed into his palm. “I tried to give it to you over the week, but…” 

A teardrop fell into Jake’s palms, and when you looked at him, you realized he’d started crying. “Jake?” you cooed softly, and he sniffled, wiping away the tears from his eyes.

As a response, he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and buried his face in your hair. “Thank you. And I’m sorry. I promise you’ll never go a second without my undivided attention from now on,” he said, voice shaking with emotion, and you hummed happily.

“I wouldn’t expect anything else.”

He leaned back, and you were relieved to find the familiar puppyish grin on his lips. You gazed into each other’s eyes for a few seconds, and before he could stop himself, he grabbed your head in his hands and pressed a delicate kiss to your forehead. You raised your eyebrows in surprise, but when his face was back in front of yours, your eyes immediately drifted to his lips. They looked soft and plump and pink, and were utterly inviting. Every time you’d started daydreaming about kissing Jake, you’d stopped yourself, not wanting to over-indulge in your fantasies. But was this finally, really happening?

“Y/N?” Jake said quietly. You could swear his face was getting closer.

“Hm?”

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

Your face broke out into a grin. Without warning, you pressed your lips against Jake’s - initially just for a peck, but as soon as you started pulling away, Jake chased after your lips and trapped them into a kiss, a proper one this time. You’d never done this before, so it was naturally somewhat clumsy, but you and Jake were so giddy with excitement that you couldn’t care less. So what if you were smiling so hard, your teeth clashed against his, or you kept bumping noses? You were kissing Jake Sim. 

The second time around, he let you pull away to catch your breath, and you wished you could photograph the sight in front of you - Jake with flushed cheeks, closed eyes and a serene smile on his face. He was so pretty, and now, he was all yours.

When he opens his eyes and finds you looking at him, his smile widens. “I’ll take that as a yes?”

“Yes,” you echoed, laughing. You pressed your lips to his cheek before burying your face in the crook of his neck.

He hugged you to him and the sweet sound of his giggles filled your ears and your heart. “My girl,” he whispered, before leaning his head back, face to the sky, and screaming it loud enough for the whole park to hear. You tried to shush him, but you couldn’t stop laughing yourself out of sheer excitement. Layla and Kiwi came running back to you, barking happily and trying to lick your faces. 

“I cried so much today, my eyes are gonna be puffy tomorrow morning,” you said between giggles. 

Jake pressed his lips to yours in a chaste kiss. “I’ll make sure you never cry again, Y/N,” he said, and he sounded so genuine, you almost wanted to cry again right then and there.

The rest of the afternoon went by in a blur - while you and Jake kissed, laughed, talked, and hugged, hours that felt like minutes passed you by. Jake kept on looking at the accessory you made him, poking fun at you for knowing his favorite color even though he’d never mentioned it.

“It was a lucky guess,” you grumbled. “Your room’s walls are that color,” you said, pointing to a particular dark blue bead.

“I love it,” he replied with a kiss to your forehead.

As always, he walks you home - and this time, you can take his hand without any hesitation. Your mom had come home from work while you and Jake were out, and you found her in the kitchen, prepping some veggies for dinner. 

As soon as Jake introduced himself, a flash of revelation struck her and she shot you a knowing smirk. “So you’re Jake,” she said, and the boy glanced at you with amused confusion. “That one over there has been badgering me about you these past few weeks.”

Apparently, you agreeing to be his girlfriend had already gone to his head, because instead of looking surprised at your mom’s words, he slowly turned to you with an arrogant smirk gracing his lips. “Has she?”

Your mom nodded slowly. “Oh, yes.” Then her expression slowly morphed into something else as she remembered your red, puffy eyes from the other evening when you’d told her about what was going on with Jake. She raised her kitchen knife and pointed it straight to him, eyes narrowed. “If you ever hurt my daughter again, I’m putting you in the lasagna, young man.”

Jake gulped, smirk completely wiped off of his face. You just watched in amusement. “I- I won’t,” he stuttered, eyes fixed on the blade of the knife.

A wide grin reappeared on your mom’s face as she went back to cutting the vegetables. “Good!” 

Jake looked at you for some sort of explanation, but you simply shrugged. He’d just have to get used to your mom’s crazy. 

“You know, you’re just as handsome as she described,” your mom told Jake with a wink.

“Mom, please!” you exclaimed, cheeks burning with heat. You liked it better when she was threatening your boyfriend with a knife, but he was relieved by the new turn this conversation had taken.

“What else has she said?”

“Oh, you know, just your typical he’s so smart, he’s so cute, he’s so funny-”

“Okay, that’s it!” you cut in before your mom could spill more on you. You ignored Jake’s noises of complaint as you grabbed him by the shoulders and led him towards the door. “I think it’s time for you to go home, no?” 

“Y/N, come on!” Jake whined, giggling. 

“Why don’t you stay for dinner, Jake?” your mom offered, making you stop in your tracks. You stared wide-eyed at her but she just looked at Jake, wearing an inviting smile.

“Sure!” Jake beamed. “I just need to call my mom.”

“Oh, invite her along! I always make enough to feed an army, anyway.”

“Really?” Jake asked, incredulous. Since his brother had left for university, it had always been just he and his mom at the dinner table. The thought of sharing a meal with you and your mom filled his heart with warmth. 

“Yeah!”

Jake smiled giddily as he got his phone out. “Thanks, she’ll be stoked.”

Although you both wanted to help your mom, she urged you to stay outside with the dogs and enjoy the last rays of sunshine of the day, insisting she didn’t need any help. So you and Jake spent some time throwing sticks for Kiwi and Layla and giggling at their cuteness. Kiwi quickly got exhausted and came to lie down at your feet, but Layla was tireless. “Your dog, your responsibility,” you said as you sat down next to Kiwi, rubbing his tummy and watching Jake throw the stick over and over again for Layla.

Jake was as relentless as Layla, and every time she ran after the stick, he ran to you and pressed a kiss to another part of your face, making you giggle every time. Once on your forehead, once on your nose, once on your cheek, then the other, and once on your lips.

Then his mom rang the bell, and as your mom opened the door for her, the oddest thing happened - they called out each other’s name and hugged as if they were old friends. You and Jake exchanged a confused look before turning your attention back to them.

“What a coincidence!”

“Right! Such a small world, I can’t believe you’re my daughter’s boyfriend’s mom.”

“Boyfriend? Gosh, has he finally asked her out? I was going crazy seeing him moping around in his room!”

“Mom!” Jake yelled, face already reddening as you burst into laughter.

You joined them inside the house and set the table while your mom finished up dinner. Jake’s mom had brought a bottle of red wine as a gift, so she poured two glasses for her and your mom, but you and Jake stuck to Sprite. 

Apparently, they knew each other from some yoga class they both went to every Sunday - you found out this was the woman your mom often went out for lunch or drinks with. They were so excited to meet each other like this that they talked most of the time, leaving you and Jake to eat your food quietly and giggling every time you made eye contact or your feet touched under the table. 

Just as you were about to take your last bite of lasagna, your phone pinged with a message. Curiously, so did Jake’s. Chaewon had sent a message into the group chat, asking to meet her at work when her shift was done because she was craving an Oreo milkshake.

chae bae y/n u better come ik ur not doing anything better tonight anyway

You scoffed. You were doing something better.

“Shit, today’s Friday! The boys are waiting for me at the diner, I completely forgot,” Jake exclaimed as he read the messages on his phone.

“Language, Jake,” his mom scolded.

“At the diner?” you repeated.

“Yeah, that one we went to last time. Why?” Jake asked when he noticed your surprised expression.

“That’s where Chaewon wants to meet.”

You both turned to your respective moms, silently asking for permission to leave the dinner table.

“Just go,” your mother said with a smile.

“I’ll take Layla home later,” Jake’s mom added.

You thanked them before rushing to get a bag and heading to the bus stop, hoping a bus would come by soon. Twenty minutes later, you were opening the doors of the diner and looking around for your friends, who were nowhere to be found. You were fishing your phone out of your pocket to call Chaewon when a familiar voice caught your and Jake’s attention.

“What are they doing together?” you heard Jay say, followed by loud shushes. You turned your head to find all five of your friends (plus Jaemin) crammed in a booth in the corner that was somewhat hidden from the rest of the restaurant. But they were trying so hard to be discreet that it made their presence even more obvious - they hid their faces with their hands as if that would make them disappear from your view. You and Jake shared a look before chuckling, shaking your head at your friends.

“Whatever, they’ve clearly found us,” Jay sighed and exited the booth, walking towards the two of you.

“Were you guys trying to get us to make up or something?” Jake asked with an amused smile.

“Yeah, we grouped up and planned this whole thing. It was a real team effort.”

“It might’ve worked better if you hadn’t all stayed here, you guys were so obvious,” you chided.

“Tell that to your friends over there! They insisted on watching it unfold,” Jay grumbled, and you looked behind him to see your friends frantically waving at you.

You switched to a bigger booth that could accommodate all seven of you, and as soon as you’d placed your orders, Yena practically pounced on you, demanding an explanation as to how the two of you were already made up.

You turned to look at Jake and smiled at him before answering. “It’s all thanks to Kiwi, really,” you told Yena.

“Kiwi? As in your dog Kiwi?” Chaewon asked with furrowed eyebrows.

“Mh-hm.” In your peripheral, you noticed Jake tilting his head at you.

“You mean Layla, right?”

You imitated his head movement. “No, I mean Kiwi.”

“But Layla made me go to the park today. I wouldn’t have gone there if it wasn’t for her,” Jake insisted, giving you an are you being serious look that you mirrored.

“I wasn’t going to go outside at all but Kiwi kept bugging me to take him on a walk, that’s why I was in the park in the first place. It’s thanks to Kiwi,” you repeated.

“It’s thanks to Layla,” Jake retorted, playfully narrowing his eyes at you.

“Trouble in paradise,” Jaemin whispered, and Hyewon slapped his arm.

The whole table was silent as you and Jake stared each other down, waiting to see who would cave first. It was like everyone could breathe again when Jake’s face broke out into a grin and he rested his arm behind your shoulders. “Okay, it’s thanks to Kiwi,” he conceded, making you hum in satisfaction. You rested your head on his shoulder and ignored Yena’s groan of disgust at the PDA.

But Jake, as always, wasn’t letting you off the hook so easily. “And Layla.”

—

02.06.202X - 12:18

rodrigo hater y/n i can see you being gross from across the courtyard can u guys not feed each other ur still on school grounds and ur ruining my day have some decency

sweet hyewon you guys are super cute <3  jaemin and i only have the same lunch period once a week i miss him

rodrigo hater ugh wheres chaewon she’d have my back

you hyewon love u yena frigg off you’re not going to like this… i think she’s with sunghoon rodrigo hater WHAT

sweet hyewon omg hahahaha saw it coming cuuuuute

rodrigo hater i hate you all so much you’re all kicked out of my celibacy club

chae bae we weren’t part of it in the first place

rodrigo hater GO AWAY YOU TRAITOR

03.06.202X - 09:15

you jake wake up  wake up wake up please

jake ??? R U okay?

you kiwi keeps whining i think he wants to see layla come over?

jake . did u just wake me up before 10 am on a sunday morning for this

you i made pancakes?

jake i’m going back to sleep

you but i miss you :(

jake running

07.06.202X - 16:39

stink #1 hey

jake no

stink #1 wtf man

jake im busy

stink #1 smooching ur girl?

jake yeah stay mad bro

stink #1 where’s hoon

stink #2 he’s at ice skating practice with me <3 this is chaewon btw

jake AYO????

stink #1 HE GAVE YOU ACCESS TO HIS PHONE???

stink #2 hehehe bye losers

stink #1 oh my god jake this is huge

jake right… our little boy he’s grown so much

stink #1 i’m getting teary eyed anyway i wanted to say i think we should invite the girls to bro night more often it’s always fun with them

jake oh? if u wanna see yena just say so bro

stink #1 fuck u man

jake ur literally so obvious you get 100% more obnoxious when she’s around

stink #1 idc she laughs at my jokes

jake which is proof that there’s something wrong w her anyway i’ll ask my girl about it

stink #1 ew and thx ^^

09.06.202X - 17:03

jakey-poo y/nnnnnn y/n hellloooooo y/n y/n y/n baby :(((( where are u what r u doing i miss you hello y/n my baby darling angel pls answer me layla misses you

you jake sim

jakey-poo HIIIIII

you jay is a genius i’m anime pomodoroing the hell out of this essay it’s working so well i’m almost done with it already

jakey-poo don’t compliment another man ever again i’m going to cry

you but jay’s your friend

jakey-poo i’ll kill him if i have to

you gosh okay jay’s an idiot

jakey-poo hahaha he is ice cream after dinner ???

you duh

31.07.202X - 21:03

jakey-poo i’m waiting for you outside the theater baby we have a lot of talking to do. i can’t believe you kissed someone else in front of me

you jake baby it was just acting <3 you know you’re the only one i really kiss

jakey-poo i know i am so come here and kiss me quick you did so well and you were so pretty on stage and i love you so much  COME QUICK I WANNA KISS YOU

you i’m hurrying i promise but a lot of people are trying to talk to me :(

jakey-poo ofc they are you killed it my baby’s already famous <3

you hehe love you my jakey-poo

jakey-poo STOP IT WITH THAT

permanent taglist: @zreamy @sunghoonmybeloved @lalalalawon @sd211 @w3bqrl @raikea10 @wntrnghts @moonlighthoon @4imhry @rikisly @loves0ft @iamliacamila @theboingsuckerasseater9000 @chaechae-23 (ask to be removed/added!)

© asahicore on Tumblr, 2023. please do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works. feedback and reblogs always appreciated!

[cinnamostar]

seven dates to fall in love

part two. part three. part four. part five. part six coming soon.

pairing : hyunjin x gn!reader

summary : after a two year long unspoken hatred, hyunjin and you are forced to be costars in a romantic series, but when it comes to filming any of the romance scenes, you both utterly fail and are unable to get through your lines. the director threatens to take your roles away if you two aren't able to get past this within the next week, which spawns the genius idea from both your managers: can you learn to (fake) fall in love in seven dates and save your careers?

wc : 4.3k

cw : actor!au, enemies to lovers ?!, slowburn (?!), cursing, one gorey joke thing, arguing, they;re each other's biggest haters, let me know if i missed anything !!

a/n : this is part one of a possible mini series! not sure how many parts this will be, but let me know what you think <33!! likes, reblogs, and feedback is always appreciated. this is supposed to be an uncomfortable read so i hope i got the vibe down LMAO this is also more to set the scene/story so not much going on in this part...

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Tears rolled down your cheeks as Hyunjin cupped your face, lips trembling as your doe eyes looked into Hyunjin’s. His hands gently rested on your cheek, his palms cool to the touch in contrast to your warm tears. His eyebrows furrowed in concern as his thumb gently caressed your cheek in an attempt to soothe your broken heart, yet his eyes lacked any emotions, no love to be found behind his cold, dark eyes. His body was stiff and uncomfortable, his movements almost robotic as he tried to lean closer to your face, yet all you could do was roll your eyes and sigh, as you braced yourself for what was next.

“Cut!” yelled the director furiously, a frown painted on his face, “This is ridiculous! We are never going to finish filming if you two can’t act out a simple kiss scene with each other.”

Hyunjin and you instantly jumped away from each other, not missing the chance to glare at the other as the director chastised you both.

“You two are amazing actors, that’s why I picked you both for these roles, I’ve seen you both act these kinds of scenes before, but my god, do you two lack chemistry,” ranted the director, his face reddening in frustration, “I get you two don’t like each other, but your entire job is to act like it for a bit. If you guys can’t solve this, then one of you is getting kicked off the project and being replaced.”

The last sentence caused you both to snap your heads towards him, eyes widened in disbelief as you scoffed, “It’s not my fault he doesn’t know how to fucking act properly! He’s the one who is messing up the scenes,” pointing your finger accusingly towards Hyunjin.

Hyunjin crossed his arms defensively, venom lacing his words as he spat with incredulity, “Me? Please, I should be getting paid more for having to pretend to be in love with that face of yours.”

You turned to Hyunjin once more, your hands balling into a fist as you opened your mouth to speak, but you were quickly cut off, “Save it, I don’t have time to listen to your childish arguments anymore. I will give you guys one week to figure this out, and if you are not able to get through this scene, consider it over for one of you,” promptly spoke the director before turning to the crew, “Everyone, go home. We’ll come back in a week from now and hopefully we will have something to work with.”

As everyone began to shuffle off set, you stomped your way to the dressing room, wanting nothing more to get away from Hyunjin at that moment as a rageful fire burned inside of you. You slammed the door open as you slumped in your seat, seething as you remembered Hyunjin’s words and how unlucky you were that he had to be your costar. You sighed as your manager entered right after you, a serious look taking over his features, “Y/N…”

“I know, I know!” you groaned, rubbing your face with your hands out of frustration, “I know a lot rides on this project and I promise I am trying my best to work with him, but he makes it so difficult too!”

Your manager, Chan, gave you a sympathetic look while shaking his head, “Well, you two are going to need to get over your differences somehow. This will look really bad for you if you get kicked off and you will be less likely to get any other roles in the future,” he murmured, “I will… talk to Hyunjin’s manager and see if we can figure something out, okay?”

You removed your hands from your face, your apologetic eyes meeting Chan’s, “I’m sorry, he just really knows how to get under my skin.”

“It’s alright, we’ll work something out. I’m not letting you lose this opportunity,” he promised before stepping out of the room, presumably to meet Hyunjin’s manager.

Sighing once more, you recalled the day you met Hyunjin on the set of another project two years ago. Initially, you both seemed to get along really well with each other and had great chemistry on camera, as you each were playing two side characters that had a small romance flourishing in the film. Yet, somewhere along the line, your relationship with Hyunjin soured out of nowhere, him suddenly being cold with you and making snide remarks every chance he had. It created such an uncomfortable work environment, you almost considered dropping acting altogether, afraid to encounter other similar characters like him. Luckily, Chan had convinced you otherwise, reassuring you he would do everything in his power to avoid any projects with him in it and also insisting your talents would go to waste if you let one guy ruin it all. Besides, you loved acting and you were slowly making your dreams come true. Why would you ever let Hyunjin of all people ruin it for you?

Ever since then, you despised Hyunjin due to his treatment of you and whenever you did have the misfortune of running into him, you did your best to keep it curt and cordial, never lingering around too long. He seemed to be on the same page as you, but the look on his face spoke of every nasty thought he was holding back on, and you hated him for it.

And while Chan did hold up on his end of his promise, it all came crashing down at this latest project. This was an offer neither you or Hyunjin could resist, especially when the writers, producers, and director personally approached both your managers and offered the role to you directly, plopping the opportunity right in your lap. The writers really wanted you both to be the leads, believing you two were perfect for the roles and had even seen that one film project you and Hyunjin did years ago, which unfortunately set their expectations extremely high, which led to the disaster you two are currently in.

It was impossible to say no to them, especially when they went out their way to contact you, and the script was great, it seemed like something you would have so much fun filming it, yet Hyunjin was quick to suck out all the joy from it.

You tried, you really tried to be as professional as possible with Hyunjin, and filming went pretty well the first few days. In fact, it may have gone a little too well that you both left the entire staff speechless after filming an argument scene between the two main characters. So much so, that the director applauded at how real you two were able to portray the scene, even bringing him to tears as he beamed proudly at you two, assuring him that he had made the perfect casting decision. Little did anyone know, you and Hyunjin’s scripted argument was not acting at all, but was a reflection of how you felt about each other. The rageful yelling, the resentful expressions, the improvised insults, and emotions were all entirely real - there was no need for acting when you both loathed one another.

Once it was time to finally start filming the romantic elements, the prospects of this being the next greatest show was squandered instantaneously by the painful awkwardness between you and Hyunjin. And to be honest, it was mostly Hyunjin who was tripping up during these scenes, making anyone who witnessed his weak attempts of being romantic with you cringed due to how much he struggled to even look at you and treat you like a person. Every now and then, you’d find yourself breaking character, but for the most part you were able to get through your lines pretty convincingly. Although, for some reason, Hyunjin was having an incredibly difficult time completing most of his lines and struggled keeping that abhorrent scowl off his face. Yet, even though you had managed to do quite well, you were also being punished by Hyunjin’s ineptitude. 

How on Earth was this supposed to all be resolved in one week? This was a two year long feud that was not simply going to disappear over the course of the week, but you knew both of you were too competitive to let this project go. Somehow, it would just have to work out, but it was a matter of how. As you lost yourself in thought, the door to the room opened once more with a nervous Chan standing at the entrance.

You raised your eyebrows in concern as you examined Chan’s anxious body language, “What happened?”

He gently closed the door behind me, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand, “So… I talked to the producers and Hyunjin’s manager…”

You nodded your head, encouraging him to continue, “Okay, go on. What did they say?”

“They’re really upset and disappointed, as they had really high expectations and now they've decided that they’ll just replace both of you if next week doesn’t go well.”

“What?!” You jumped from your seat in shock, no longer having the possible safety of remaining on the project to back you up.

“And I don’t think I need to tell you how much worse this will be for both your public images,” Chan spoke nervously, almost as if he was dreading to share the rest of the conversation with you, “So, Changbin and I spoke, and as both your managers, we think you two need to do something to get over this bump.”

Your eyes narrowed as you tried to decode Chan’s words, “Uh huh, which means what exactly…?”

“You’re really not going to like this, I’m really sorry, I tried to think of other solutions, b-”

“Please, Chan, just spit it out already.”

Chan sighed, “Well, Changbin and I think the best way you guys can learn to recreate that kind of romantic chemistry is by, well… going on dates this next week? You know, learn to get used to being romantic with each other so it's easier to act it out on camera.”

Your jaw dropped as your eyes bored into Chan’s as annoyance made its way into your body, “No, absolutely not! I want nothing to do with that man, that sounds like a terrible idea!” you exclaimed, your face contorting into a frown as your voice grew louder.

Chan lifted his hands before him in an attempt to fan the flames of your anger, “Y/N, I know, I know, but this is the best we got for now! Do you have any other better ideas?”

Your shoulders slumped in defeat as you shook your head, “No, but… That just sounds like a week of pure torture!” you whined, Chan’s face dropping into an apologetic expression.

“Just promise me you will try your best? It’s only for a week, and then all you will have to do is get through the rest of filming.”

“I guess,” you grumbled, turning your back to Chan as you ran your hands through your hair, “Let’s just hope Hyunjin isn’t too much of a pain in the ass.”

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The next day rolled around as you waited outside of your apartment building with a miffed expression on your face, tapping your feet impatiently as you pulled out your phone to check the time. 

7:10pm.

Great, Hyunjin was now ten minutes late to pick you up for your first oh-so practice dates. You felt yourself grow angrier as the minutes passed, your veins burning hot as you contemplated going back inside and calling Chan to yell at him how this idea was never going to work, but before you could, a black car with tinted windows pulled up next to you. The window on the passenger side rolled down, revealing an upset Hyunjin in the driver’s side who called out to you, “Wow, don’t look too happy to see me. Get in.”

This only made your frown deepen as you rolled your eyes, opening the car door to take a seat, “Whatever. Couldn’t even open the car door for me, huh?” you slammed the door shut, crossing your arms as you looked ahead, avoiding Hyunjin’s gaze.

He scoffed while putting the car in drive, “Now why the hell would I do that?”

“Aren’t you supposed to learn how to be all gentlemanly and shit? Isn’t this why we’re doing this?” you snapped, nails digging into your hands as you clenched them in an attempt to hold your anger in.

Hyunjin only shrugged, “Funny you think you deserve that treatment. Just shut up and let's get this over with.”

You held your tongue, resisting the urge to start another quarrel with him in this car ride to whatever restaurant Changbin reserved for you two. It was a 20 minute drive and you refused to waste your breath on some argumentative asshole, and reminded yourself that at the very least you’d be eating something delicious soon enough.The car ride was tense as neither of you dared to speak, especially after Hyunjin turned the music up to hide the deafening silence that hung in the air. As soon as you both arrived at the restaurant, you exited the car in a hurry, desperate for a breath of fresh air and some reprieve from the tension you just sat in. Unsurprisingly, Hyunjin strolled right ahead of you, not making any sort of effort to acknowledge your existence as he marched through the restaurant's front doors as soon as he exited the car, causing you to chase after him just to keep up with his long strides. Truthfully, it felt like Hyunjin was just trying to piss you off, and it was working.

Upon entering the building, you realized Changbin had definitely booked you guys an extremely upscale restaurant, which explains why he was so insistent on making sure you both dress formally. Everyone in here reeked of affluence, and while you and Hyunjin were able to afford these luxuries due to the success of your careers, you still couldn’t help but feel out of place. The other patrons were dressed similarly to you, but there was this extra layer of otherworldly riches radiating off of them. Perhaps it was their mannerism or the snobby, fake, business smiles exchanged amongst them, but something about this place was extremely unsettling.

Hyunjin approached the host with a polite smile, “Reservation for Hwang.”

The host nodded, retrieving two menus before standing in front of both of you, bowing “Mister and Mx. Hwang, please follow me this way.”

Your body physically recoiled with disgust and shock when you heard the host refer to you as Mx. Hwang, wanting to immediately correct him, yet you reminded yourself you were here on a date, so it would be best to try to immerse yourself into the role as much as you can for the sake of your career and the future of this current project. The host led you to your table, which was thankfully located in a more secluded corner of the restaurant, a small candle in the middle of it to help set the romantic mood.

You thank the host as you sat down, graciously taking the menu from his hand with a smile, which dropped into a glower as soon as the host left, “Are you not taking any of this seriously?”

Hyunjin pursed his lips, his eyes scanning the menu in his hand, “You expect me to take you seriously?”

Your jaw dropped, completely flabbergasted at his lack of concern over the situation he put you both in, “What the fuck is your problem?” you growled in a syncopated whisper, trying not to draw any attention to you, “Do you not care about the possibility of both of us losing our roles?”

Hyunjin let out another exasperated sigh, as if you were inconveniencing him, “I am trying to get through his evening with you without wanting to gouge my eyes out,” he dramatically plopped the menu down on the table, “I do care, of course I fucking care.”

“Then can you at least act like it?” you whispered angrily.

“Maybe if you would shut up-”

Before Hyunjin could finish his statement, the waiter came by with an excited and hospitable smile, “Hello, Mister and Mx. Hwang! I hope you both are having a lovely evening. I’ll be your server for the night, can I interest you guys in a bottle of wine before we get started with food?”

You smiled at the server, nodding your head, “Oh, yes, that sounds wonderful. We’ll take whichever one you recommend.”

The server nodded sweetly, blissfully unaware of the tension between the two of you, “Great! I’ll bring out one of the house favorites for you two to try, I’ll be back shortly.”

As soon as the server was out of earshot, you glared down at Hyunjin once more, gripping the menu in hand as your knuckles turned white, “I am going to pretend I didn’t hear you. Do you know what you’re going to order?” you asked, trying to at least make some sort of conversation with him.

Except, Hyunjin just hums a response as his eyes return to the menu, choosing to ignore your question as the chatter of other patrons fills the silence. You let out a heavy exhale, debating on whether you should reach over the table and slap him, play along with him, or continue trying for, once again, the sake of your careers. “Well, I’m going to get the filet mignon. I think it’ll pair nicely with the wine.”

Hyunjin continued to ignore you, now scrolling through his phone which caused your anger to boil up within you as you wondered how on Earth you were going to get through the rest of the night with any sort of progress. “Seriously, Hyunjin? Are you not even going to try?”

He looked up from his phone, an unamused look painting his features, “Please just shut the fuck up. It would make this night a whole lot more bearable if you knew how to keep your mouth shut.”

“Hwang Hyunjin, I swear to f-”

“Alright, here you go,” the waiter returned with a cheery smile, setting down to glass cups while popping open a bottle of wine, “Are you two ready to order?” he beamed as he poured a healthy amount of wine in each of your glasses, and lord knows you need a drink right now.

“Ah, thank you,” you forced a courteous smile, “I’ll take the filet mignon, please.”

“Alright, and what about you, sir?”

“I’ll have the whole grilled snapper, thank you.”

“Perfect, I’ll have those out as soon as they’re ready.”

You felt yourself growing incredibly frustrated as time ticked by, unable to sit still in your seat due to the roaring fury you felt inside of you. You just could not understand why Hyunjin was so hateful towards you, you had no idea what caused him to behave this way with you and you were growing sick of it. Maybe you could confront him about it, but right now, you were way too riled up to even think of having that conversation with him. Your face was stuck in a permanent scowl as Hyunjin wore a blank expression, seemingly not caring about the circumstance you both were in. It floored you that Hyunjin wasn’t taking any of this seriously. He said he cared about the fact he was at risk of losing this role, yet his actions and attitude said otherwise. 

If looks could kill, Hyunjin would’ve been dead ten times over, yet as he looked up to meet your eyes, he returned your gaze with a humorless one, “You know, staring is rude.”

It was taking an exuberant amount of self control for you to hold it together, “I just can’t understand how you’re so relaxed about this. It’s like you want us both to get dropped from this project.”

“Like I said, I do care, but this whole arrangement isn’t so easy to do,” he said sternly, “You’re not even giving me the chance to get comfortable. You can’t just expect me to be able to act like we don’t hate each other. And pressuring me isn’t helping much either, is it?”

You bit the inside of the cheek, recognizing that Hyunjin wasn’t entirely wrong in how he was feeling. “I guess so,” was all you could manage to reply, not willing to give him the satisfaction that he was right. 

Once more, an uncomfortable, tense silence loomed over as you each waited for your food. You decided it was best to deal with this rather than forcing a conversation, perhaps it was best to let Hyunjin take the lead since he was the one struggling with this disaster. Despite the heavy atmosphere, you found your muscles slowly relaxing as time went on as your focus returned to the environment around you, how decadent each detail of the restaurant was and the false laughters of businessmen filled your ears. 

The waiter returned with both your meals in hand, grinning from ear to ear, “Alright, here’s the grilled snapper for you, sir,” he carefully laid the plate in front of Hyunjin before turning to you with a sweet smile, “And here’s the filet mignon for the beautiful Mx. Hwang.”

You noticed Hyunjin trying to hold back a teasing laugh at the waiter’s comment, even going as far to add, “They’re lovely, aren’t they?” But only you could see through the fakeness Hyunjin wore as the waiter politely agreed, causing you to kick Hyunjin hard in the shin from under the table. Hyunjin’s face winced as he thanked the waiter for the food before glaring at you, “What? You want us to act like a couple, but the moment I do something, you have a problem with it?”

You grumbled, annoyance lacing your voice, “Oh, shut up. You were being sarcastic, you asshole.”

“Oh, really? I would say our server didn’t have a clue, I’d say I’m a pretty good actor,” he smirked, picking up his fork and knife, “Let’s just enjoy our food, hm?”

You returned Hyunjin’s smirk with an insincere smile, “You’re right, it’s probably the only good thing that’ll come out this evening.” 

Hyunjin only hummed in agreement, choosing to ignore your comment as he dug into his food, you doing the same as the familiar tense silence enveloped you once more. In all honesty, this felt like it was going nowhere, it felt like this whole project was doomed from the very inception of it and Hyunjin’s stubbornness was only making this more difficult than it needed to be. The idea that you had to put your full trust and the fate of your career in someone else was too much, it was ridiculous, yet here you were, with the man you loathed the most having full control on whether this project would be a success or a blemish on your career. His lack of cooperation filled you with anxiety, yet you knew you had no choice. Patience wasn’t always your strong suit, but Hyunjin never failed to test it and you weren’t sure if you were going to survive this entire week if this was how every meeting was going to be like.

You were half way through your meal when Hyunjin cleared his throat, snapping you out of your thoughts, “So, why did you take the project knowing I was going to be the male lead?”

You snorted at his question, “Could be asking you the same thing.”

“Well, I honestly took the role thinking you wouldn’t do it knowing it was me as the lead,” mumbled Hyunjin.

“Wow,” you stared at him with disbelief in your eyes, “You really thought I’d reject a hand delivered opportunity?” you let out a surprised laugh, “Besides, the script seemed fun. Just didn’t realize you’d be so impossible to work with.”

“I see,” responded Hyunjin as he continued to eat, causing you to raise your eyebrow, fully expecting a witty response from him in return. 

The rest of dinner went on without a word, that being the only exchange throughout the night. While it was not an enjoyable time, you and Hyunjin seemed to have agreed that the silence was far more welcomed than any bickering you two would engage in, preferring the uncomfortable peace over anything else. 

The car ride home went the same, no words other than the loud music that drummed over your incessant thoughts, anxiety crawling throughout you as you began to worry that maybe you were losing out on the biggest role of your career, all thanks to Hyunjin of all people. If this didn’t work out, this would make it impossible for you to find other roles in the industry, as rumors would inevitably spread about how difficult it was to work with you and Hyunjin. You couldn’t trust him one bit, you had no faith in him that he would be able to get over his own differences with you, ones that you still had no idea where they even spawned from. 

As soon as Hyunjin pulled up in front of your apartment, you left his car without a word, not even looking back before making your way up to your unit. You pulled out your phone as you unlocked the front door, stumbling as you dialed Chan’s number.

“Oh, Y/N! How did it go?”

“Chan, this isn’t going to work. We’re fucked.”

[grandline-fics]

Immune To Your Charms

DESCRIPTION: Soulmates are incapable of harming the other in any way. Normally that would be a good thing but not when you're meant to be enemies.

WARNINGS: It's Doflamingo so it features mentions of killing/ injury/ general violence. Soulmate! AU, Enemies to Lovers

CHARACTERS: Doflamingo

WORDS: 2,046

A/N: Part of the Good For Your Soul Series. The next part is here, I had so much fun writing the first part that I just couldn't stop thinking about the next chapter of this.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

Chapter One | Chapter Two (here) | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight(coming soon)

——————

Your Marine photo lay on Doflamingo’s desk beside a copy of your file, the information sent through by Vergo in record time. It was sitting waiting to be read the second he returned to Dressrosa. One of the Palace’s doctors tended to your injuries while he withdrew to the peace and quiet of his private quarters to get his mind straight. The entire journey home he couldn’t stop but think about the cause for his powers not working on you. Over and over he tried to make sense of it, nothing added up and the longer he thought about it the more agitated he became, desperate for an answer. Desperate for a cure or a fix or whatever you wanted to call it. No one would get the better of him and certainly not some unknown Marine that came across his path at the wrong time. 

Settling into his chair he pushed your photo aside and flicked open the file, lazily reading over the information. He didn't need to know about your past missions or any of that inconsequential nonsense. Doflamingo was searching for something remarkable, a mention of a Devil Fruit, anything in your parentage that could give him some insight in his search for answers. He felt the vein in the centre of his head throb when nothing jumped out at him. As if sensing his unhappiness, the den-den mushi rang and he lifted the receiver, not even bothering to speak first. Vergo’s voice sounded. “Was the file acceptable Doffy?”

“Acceptable in that it's detailed but not what I was looking for.” Doflamingo snapped your file closed and pinched the corner of your photo between his thumb and finger, lifting it to inspect your appearance blankly. “Could anything have been missed?”

“From what I can see everything is accurate and up to date. Medical history, combat and mission logs, specialised training and skills.” Vergo noted, on his end of the call he was looking at your file too checking over everything to ensure he hadn't missed a page or annotation. “Is there something specific you’d hoped to have known?”

“Devil Fruit ability? Something that would render my skills useless against them.” There was a beat of silence from the other end of the call. Vergo found himself genuinely surprised that someone could be unaffected by his master’s power.

“If they possess a Devil Fruit capable of that, they’ve managed to conceal its existence for as long as they’ve been part of the Marines.” Doflamingo glared at your picture, not satisfied at all. “I’ll look into things on my end just in case someone higher up has intentionally kept certain information out of their file.”

“Good.” Doflamingo ended the call and discarded your photo, in one swift movement he rose from the desk and left his room. He suspected you would be awake by now and he was in no mood to just sit back and wait for Vergo to research things. It was time to ask you directly and if you knew what was good for you, you’d answer his questions. 

He slammed the door open and without needing to say a word the doctor fled the room, leaving him alone to stare down at you as you lay on the bed. You were awake as he suspected and staring blankly at the ceiling. You weren’t restrained and you’d only been in here with the doctor, even with your injuries you were most likely capable of overpowering him and escaping had you wanted but in Doflamingo’s view of the situation you looked bored. “Did any of them survive?”

Doflamingo’s grin appeared at your question and he sat on the edge of the doctor’s desk. Still no begging for your life? Not even a curious ask of where you were or what was going to happen. Instead you were looking for confirmation of your unit’s status. “Every single one of them died.” He tilted his head to see you nod in acceptance. “No tears to shed for them?”

“I’ll mourn them privately if I live long enough.” You told him stiffly, training you gaze on the ceiling, refusing to look at the man whose presence filled the room intensely. The memory of what happened at the warehouse was fresh enough and you didn’t need to look at the Warlord. Perhaps if you didn’t feed into his sick entertainment of tormenting you, he’d grow bored and kill you quick. You’d reasoned that was why you were still alive, you’d fallen unconscious too soon before he had his fun. “You’ve been keeping me alive for a reason.”

“I want answers about your power.” Doflamingo told you, grinning wider to see you slowly look at him at last. Your expression was unreadable but the fact you finally looked at him felt like confirmation that you knew what he was talking about. “Born with it or is it a Devil Fruit?”

“I don’t have any power.” You answered, confusion evident in your tone. Doflamingo’s jaw clenched, you were a skilled liar. You had to be because for a second he almost believed you. “You wasted resources in healing me. I can’t tell you anything about something I don’t have.”

“I’m trying to be patient here. You can stop lying about your ability I saw it for myself.”

“Then you were imagining things. I don’t have any-” You were cut off when Doflamingo was across the room and lifting you into the air so you were eye level with him, his hand tightly around your throat. You could feel the strength in his grip, the power but you didn’t feel any pain. Was he just trying to intimidate you? To let you feel the ultimate control he had over himself when he could easily snap your neck or squeeze the life out of you. In a way you wanted it to be quick, being a prisoner and dragging out the torment was not ideal. With a heavy sigh you could only repeat. “I don’t have any power.”

Doflamingo felt the rage building in him once again. Even now you lied to his face so blatantly? He had put enough force into his hold to choke you, to at least make you squirm and hold some fear for your life and yet you didn’t react. You didn’t even twitch or try to struggle for breath as it still came to you so easily. It wasn’t just his powers or using a weapon, his own strength failed him around you. He was incapable of harming you.

Keeping you in his hold he turned and left the room, ignoring the frightened and scrambling servants who leapt out of his way and bowed lowly until he passed. Even his subordinates from the lowest rank to some of his elites didn’t even register in his mind not even when they called after him and followed close behind. At this point in time he was in search of only one other person who could give him some clear insight. Bursting into one of the drawing rooms he locked eyes on the former Princess of Dressrosa. “Violet. Your power now.” He growled as he dropped you onto the plush armchair. “I want to know the truth of their ability.”

You looked at the woman who stepped forward, remaining silent as she made a circle with her thumb and finger and peered at you intensely. If only you knew what power or ability Doflamingo was so adamant you possessed, at least then you’d have some idea of what was going on. One moment you were a Marine, just doing your job and now you sat in the home of a feared Warlord completely clueless. You jumped when Violet let out a shocked, strangled yell. Even Doflamingo tensed at the sound and he stared at her hard. “What do you see?”

“It’s not possible.” She whispered, not just looking at you but also Doflamingo with equal shock and disbelief. “Never thought I'd see such a thing.”

“Stop the riddles Violet, what’s their ability and how do we reverse it?” Your head snapped up to him and you frowned heavily. Reverse? What had to be reversed? Did something happen while you were unconscious? Could it have been something to do with what was in the warehouse before it exploded. Had remnants of some weird substance gotten on you? 

“It’s not an ability…it’s something bigger than that. It’s fate.” She whispered and Doflamingo scoffed in annoyance, his fingers flexing. He was getting agitated and if he didn’t get answers soon, a lot of people were going to get sliced. “I swear! It’s the only way I can explain what I see. The two of you are connected. It’s not at the mind or heart…it’s deeper. Your souls are bound to each other.”

Now it was your turn to scoff. No, this had to be some trick. Some sort of bizarre theatrics planned while you were unconscious. You still didn’t know how long you’d been asleep for, it was likely they kept you sedated in order to perfect these performances although for what end you couldn’t tell. You weren’t high ranking enough to be of any use to Doflamingo and he was a Warlord and a King of an entire island. He had enough power and influence as it was. Just what was going on and why of all things go with the ‘connected at the soul’ nonsense? The existence of soulmates had been recorded a few times throughout the world’s history but it was extremely rare to the point it was considered myth. Violet seemed exasperated at not being believed and looked to Doflamingo. “You’ve tried to kill them already?”

“A few times.” He answered tightly. First at the warehouse with his strings, then with your gun, then again in the doctor’s room. You didn’t even bruise in any of the attempts. Behind his bright glasses he looked down at you out of the corner of his eyes, noting you didn't seem surprised by his admission. Instead you looked confused about how you were still alive. You shook your head, still not convinced by any of this. No, this wasn't happening. You jolted in your seat as the sound of gunfire sounded loudly above you. 

Slowly you tilted your head up to meet the smoking barrel of the gun that had been aimed directly with the top of your head, the weapon held steadily and unwaveringly in Doflamingo’s grip. There was no missing with that proximity but you were alive, you hadn’t even been grazed by any of the bullets. Swallowing hard your body began to shake, not out of fear of the weapon but by the undeniable truth of the situation. You glanced down to see the bullets on the ground, the pathway they would have had to take to land beside the chair was impossible but there they were. You were protected from any harm by Doflamingo's hand by fate as Violet said. 

Both of you had the answer now and neither of you liked it. Those that were in the room that had been there to witness the truth of the matter for themselves were stunned and silent. To see the existence of a soulmate and the rumoured power it had for the pair would be something they would never forget. For some it was also an extra thread of proof that their master, Doflamingo was truly amazing to have a soulmate. With a growl, Doflamingo threw the gun across the room, letting it smash through the antique vase and send the roses it held scattering onto the floor. Then a sound filled the room, you began to laugh. You couldn’t help it. The sheer absurdity of it all and the weight of this new reality was too much. It was like some higher power had decided to play the cruelest joke imaginable on you and you finally got the punchline. 

“So what’s the plan?” You asked, looking at your ‘soulmate’ expectantly. “Do I go home and we pretend this isn’t happening? Or do you have another idea?”

“You’re not going anywhere.” Doflamingo’s statement was firm and quicker than you anticipated. You could only nod slightly and glance once more at the bullets on the floor.   

“Thought as much.”

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

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[magicdustsworld]

Redemption

Levi Ackerman x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: For you, freedom comes in the form of college life. However, soon you come to realize that tethering liberating steps for way too long will get you to situations you don't want to be in.

Tropes: Professor/Student, explicit smut

Warnings: profanity, age gap (Reader is in early 20s, Levi is in his early to mid 30s), drug abuse, smoking, alcoholism, implied nudity and blackmail, body shot, toxic college life, toxic friendship dynamics, college/modern AU, no mentions if y/n.

Word count: 3.6k

Event: submission for levievent under the prompt of day 10 - age differences.

A/N: after a lot of contemplation, I have decided to let it be a two-shot series. The next part will contain filthy smut, hopefully updated by tomorrow and pls excuse any mistakes on this part, my laptop broke down so I had to type it on my phone. Hope you enjoy!

Divider credits - @cafekitsune

|NEXT|

This isn't supposed to be happening.

You aren't supposed to be bend over your professor's desk, skirt raised up and have your cunt pulsating over his cock like a damn virgin.

He clicks his tongue, "Filthy brat," tightening his hold over your binded wrists as his pelvis smacks against yours in a uniform rhythm. "Don’t tell me you're cumming so soon. We haven't even started yet."

Your cheek rests on the hard mahogany desk, polished and clean as your eyes roll back from the way his cock just hits your g-spot with every thrust. The drool runs down your lips, too lust drunk to care and too traversed beyond reality to give him a verbal answer as he continues to assault your puffy folds with his shaft. Slick runs down your thighs, dripping on the floor as the room reeks with the combined juices of your arousal. He reaches down, pressing his thumb on your swollen bud and you're sent over the edge.

Shit!

How did this happen?

.

You have been caged your whole life.

Therefore, when freedom came knocking at your door, you didn't have any second thoughts from breaking free of the chains that binded you to a gilded cage. For you, freedom came in the form of college life.

If anyone from your highschool years saw you now, they wouldn't be able to recognize you with the 180 degree turn in personality, makeover and peer choices. A complete change. The most significant change could be your schedule. While you were living under the stern gaze of your parents, you had a timetable to maintain which prescribed when and how you should be present at particular places. That timetable was taken, crumbled up and thrown in the trashcan as soon as you got the gist of dormitory life. Besides, with your peers indulging in situations they shouldn't be, why should you hold back? (Like c'mon, you need to live your life as well)

Previously, you'd spend Friday nights in the confines of your bedroom while blasting your favourite playlist in your earphones and doing your homework. Now, the same music would boom but you are swaying your hips to it, bopping yourself and getting lost in the game of dance under the neon lights of the frat house. Red cups and beer pongs would escalate, which you readily partook in with the addition of forgettable one night stands. You told yourself that you liked the air of random hook ups while you were high, for it left you guessing that which brother of the fraternity you had fucked or not. While vodka and a night of reprieve was one thing, you looked forward to the coke. The very coke which once inhaled, made the euphoria burst in your system while ecstasy took over and you'd find yourself falling under the spell of intoxication.

Mind blank as a canvas and too high on serotonin levels, the fog of inebriation would cloud your eyes and you'd get lost in another midnight rhapsody. Can you blame yourself? College is meant for trying out all the pleasures of life, right? A hub for fuck boys and girls seeking validation from each other by fucking their daylights out. The minority who inclined themselves to academics were clearly missing out on all the joys life had to offer.

However, you didn't know that your favourite coke would be the reason of your downfall.

Maybe, you should have known better.

No– of course, you should have known better.

What were you thinking?

You should have stayed inside that night instead of going out to the same frat house, when you had an important physical chemistry exam the next day.

As far as you can remember, you were paired with a jock of the football team for flip cup. Although, hazed memories you noted the strawberry blond hair styled back and amber eyes. Maybe his name was John? Or Jean? Whatever, you only remember winning the game and getting your hands on the coke. Sooner than anyone had the time to comprehend, you were lining the powder on your finger edge and inhaling it generously.

Did it not raise a series of ooh's and aah's from the onlookers?

Like all the previous nights, your eyes were open wide with the crimson tint staining your sclera as you got lost in the ebullient maelstrom. Combined with the alcohol already running in your system, it didn't take long for the waves to crash ove. In this reverie you didn't realize when you were situated on the table, with grains of salt being sprinkled over your navel by your partner. He dipped his head down– mouth filled with tequila– swirling and lapping the warm muscle over your skin, feasting on the granules and you didn't even care with all your senses falling numb.

Anyone can guess what would be the outcome of attending an exam when the after effects of the powder fails to cease. With a pounding headache and being unaware of most of the answers, you can't say you were surprised to see your grade.

The capital F beside your name stares back at you from the mark list.

.

"Can't be that bad."

"It is."

"Not so," Your friend giggles, raking her fingers through her ash-blond hair. "It's only one exam, cheer up."

You bit your inner cheek, heaving a deep sigh. "This exam marks forty percect of my overall grade, Hitch. And with the way, my marks have gone down the drain, I don't think I'll even be able to pass this year."

That's an honest concern on your part because the final report would be sent to your parents as well and if they ever saw you failing one class, you don't know what hell they'll raise. Besides, the excuses of sickness and tougher lessons can only be used so far. (Plus, your heart thumped in your chest with the thought if they ever find out about this new lifestyle of yours... let's not think about it).

"You know," Hitch muses, leaning back on her Chair as she blows a strawberry bubblegum in her mouth. " You can ask for extra credit."

"Yeah sure," You don't bother to hide sarcastic tone, rolling your eyes and choosing to rest your chin on top of your palm. "There's no chance."

She raises an eyebrow, "Why not?"

"It's professor Ackerman," That almost comes out as a whine. "He is ruthless as he is, always with the poker look on his face and I can swear he won't even smile at a clown." 

A sheepish smile curls up her lips but before she can speak, you start again.

"Plus, I am already on his bad books. Do you think he'll be all unicorns and rainbows when I ask for credits?" You fold your hand over your chest, gritting your teeth as if the cause of your predicament is the man in question; he isn't but you need something to get off your vexation. "That's straight up walking in a lion's den and I am sure he will come for my head."

"Oh, girl..." She sighs, interlocking her fingers together and perching them over the tabletop. "But why would he even do that when you will give him a show?"

That catches your interest, "a show?"

"A show," She nods, the upper pair of her teeth is revealed as she smiles, waving her finger in a circular motion in the air. "Just follow my advice."

.

You have never heard an advice as bad as that.

Correction:

You have never found yourself following an advice as bad as that.

Still, you find yourself here. Outside your professor's office, gazing at the ivory sign engraved with the obsidian lettering – Levi Ackerman, while you contemplate on how much this plan can go wrong. (In your opinion, 100%).

However, you are desperate and your desperation has brought you here. So why not...?

You knock on the door. Once. Twice. Stating your name as you suck in a deep breath, squaring your shoulders.

Please don't let it be long.

A deep voice reverberates from inside, "State your business."

"I would... like to discuss about my grades. May I come in, sir?"

"Yes."

You breath in, the knob turns and you set a foot inside.

"Remember," Hitch says, crossing one of her leg over the another. "You gotta look desperate." The tilt of your head and parting of your lips, garners her to explain more. "The first two," She snaps her fingers to the collar of your shirt, "Unbuttoned."

"What?!" On instinct, you fold your hand over your chest, twisting your torso in the opposite direction. "Are you out of your mind?"

"You want to increase your grades or not?"

"I do but–"

"No buts," The girl shushes you with a finger over your lips. "You want to get your way through college, you follow me. Got that?"

Left with no choice, you find yourself nodding.

The clicks of your heel seems to echo in the vast expanse of his office. It's almost afternoon and the orange glow of the setting sun pours into the space marring it with the similar hues. Late classes are adjourned for the day as the marks were announced. On top of that, its Friday. Therefore, regular classes would be starting after the weekend. The campus is almosy empty except a few staff and students lurking around the corners; a perfect opportunity to follow the plan.

Your find your professor to be seated across his desk, engrossed in reading a file while a pen is nestled between his thumb and pointer. As soon as he is aware of your presence, he looks up at you.

Instead of halting, a good distance away from his desk, you are walking up to it. Letting yourself stop within a meter of his proximity.

"What do you need to discuss?"

Prompt and straight to the point—as expected.

Lips breaking into a grin, you spin a strand of your open hair around your fingers. Leaning forward–it's apparent, what you're aiming at–you speak, "I was wondering... if I could get some extra credit in your class, sir?"

"He is your professor, that's your minus," She states with a lilt of her mouth. "But you're his student, that's his minus."

Levi raises an eyebrow, "Extra credit, you say?"

"He is a man, after all. And all men are perverts, give them a show of your assets and they'll be dancing on your drums."

He continues with a twitch of his lip, "And why would I do that?" 

"Give him all the performance he needs," Her eyes darts south, she tugs on the fabric of your skirt."The shorter this is, the higher your grades will be."

"You seem to know all about their psyches." You comment, pinching your lips and smoothening the material over your knees.

That evokes a laugh,"Babe, how do you think I keep my grades up?"

By following the same advice she has given you.

In accordance to her, a face full of makeup with tits on show and the skirt raised enough to give a generous view of legs—one can make the professor's their very own puppets. So, once the same advice and opportunity is presented to you, why should you back down?

"Well," You start, plopping yourself on the chair across him, crossing your legs one over the other–hiking up your (already)shortened skirt. "I am sure we can work something out like..." arching your elbow on the table, you let your manicured fingers drum against your cheek; a seductive approach. This should work. "You don't want one of your students to be held back now, do you, sir?"

He stares at you for a solid minute. A blink of his eyes follow.

You shift in your position—offering him a rather salacious view of your cleavage. Come on. Your visage holds innocence akin to a child learning the first steps of the world.

One thing about Professor Ackerman that enthralls you is just how attarctive he could be despite his age. Probably a decade older than you but he certainly carries the enigma of a young man charmed with the maturity of someone his age. Gray eyes, dark bangs in an undercut and he just dresses so much better than all of the male peers you have encountered. And a lot better than all of your filthy hookups.

Even then, he is a man. Just look at it. The silence is stretching for a minute too long and dare you say, its almost suffocating.

While Levi's eyes are on you—something which you do want—he rather seems to be scrutinizing your behaviour than satisfy his inner perverse attitude.

Maybe he keeps this face even while jerking off.

That thought alone raises a cinch of chuckle to escape your mouth. His eyebrows furrow. At last, he speaks. "How long have you been in my class?"

Seriously? Is he so keen on continuing this game of back and forth. Shouldn't he be asking you how much grades you require by now?

"Patince is the key."

Hitch's words ring in your mind and you follow her again. "Since the start to second year?"

He crosses his arm over his chest, muscles flexing under his dress shirt as he leans back on his chair. You mark how there's a gleam in his eyes before he continues, "And how many exams have you taken until now?"

"Three? Why are you... asking that?"

"You'll know soon enough," he pauses, letting a string of tension to seep in through his body language. And as much as you don't want it to bother you, it is bothering you. "In which of those exams have you got a grade over sixty percent?"

"Um, uh sir–" You fumble over your words, raking your brain for any suitable response and while your grades is actually being discussed—a pang of exposure swirls in with the way you are dressed. "I don't remember..."

"Never."

"O-oh," Unease ripples through you, crumbling the calm veneer you are trying to maintain.

His gaze hardens, a tick of jaw and the creases on his forehead just shows he isn't in the mood for your performance. "Why?"

Only a low chuckle is released, attempting to depress the palpable tension."My bad... ah– you see, I don't have a good memory and that's why my grades are... well, you know."

"When have you ever cosulted me with the problem regarding your memory?" He cocks his head to the side, inverting the hourglass on his table. Shifting his attention back to you, he asks, "Besides, have you ever truly followed through my lesson in class? Ever tried to do your assignments by yourself?"

"Of course, I did," a clear cut lie but he doesn't have to know that. "But they are too difficult. You can't blame me, college is tough on its own and I have so many subjects to study–"

You wish to continue with your rant but the terse call of your name stops you on your tracks. His lips are curled down and he looks at you with utter disdain as if you were a bug. "If you have even paid a bit of attention in my class then you should know that I mark half of your grades by your attentiveness and student conduct. Something–" You swallow a lump in your throat, slumping your shoulders and hiding your chest from his gaze. "–you clearly lack and with the absolute shit you write on your answer sheets, you should know better than to expose your body in the name of discussion."

Blank.

You are completely blanked out.

What is there to say even?"

You chew on your lower lip, eyes flickering to anywhere but him. Clutching the mesh of your skirt in your hold. This meeting isn't unfolding like anything Hitch said about. You manage to exhale a breath, trying to hide your with your hairs, "Sir... I guess, I should take– I should leave now."

Only slightly you raise yourself from the chair, Levi speaks again, "So soon?" You sheepishly nod, giving way that this encounter wouldn't be to your favour. "We were just getting started. Besides, there's something more I need to discuss with you."

You look at him from beneath your lashes. It's funny how timid you are now. "Like what?"

"I've heard rumors of students getting their hands on question sheets by– let's say, means," He opens his drawer, pulling out a folder. "So... I played a little game with y'all. Changing the question paper, last minute was tedious- but doable." He twists his lips, picking out a A5 sized paper with contents hidden from you. He keeps his eyes on it while speaking again, "Humorously, you seem to answer only those questions perfectly which were leaked–"

"Excuse me?" You intervene, quickly. "I have no connection with this paper leak mess."

"Then how do you explain your tardiness with the paper, this time?" Steel eyes have shifted to you, "As much of a bratty student you can be, you aren't the type to completely fail unless–"

"You're just accusing me or something, I haven't done. When I say I have no connections with paper leak, I mean it."

"Then how do you explain your–"

"I don't fucking know. Just a coincidence or– whatever!"

"Coincidence? You really expect me to believe that?"

"It's not on me if you believe me or not. I have gave you my statement and you should know better than to accuse me of something just because you hate me."

"Very well, then" He tilts his head, shrugging his shoulders. "I will just have the dean rusticate you–"

"You can't do that. I didn't even know about all this."

"You want to tell me that you weren't cursing out loud while writing the paper? Don't try to lie, Zacharius told me about your indency in exam hall."

"That was because I was high on coke not— no, I–" Your eyes widen as soon as you realize your fumbling. Lips parted, you are more apprehended as the blood drains from your cheeks. "No, I- uh... I didn’t mean that, j-just a slip of tongue."

As for Levi, he merely stares back at you and... is that a smirk on his lips? It sure is. A triumphant ghost of a smirk directed at you while you began to drown in the whirlpool of despair. "At least, you remember that."

He flips both the paper to you and if your heart wasn't beating with a 10x speed before, it sure is now. Your jaw hangs open, shoulders becoming rigid and the air knocked off your lungs like you've been punches to the gut.

Pictures.

They are pictures, yes and it would have been fine of it was just that but it isn't. In the very pictures, you find yourself. One with a cigarette between your lips and from the background it is starkly evident that it's the college campus. The second is more precarious for you're clicked with some of your pals but it's shot in a way that only your face is visible while the group blows on a pot of Marijuana.

You wrestled with a deep-sated fear, eyes thoroughly scrutinizing each speck and corner of the photos—something, anything to prove that it isn't you. That it's framed, that all of it is a big misunderstanding. The dread of facing your professor overshadows all the protests stringing on your mouth; they won't even be let out if you try.

"It's a shame really," His voice echoes, the screeching of the chair is heard before he is sauntering over to the other end of the room. "I had better expectations from you."

You don't register the mocking call of your name, physically unable to. The adrenaline surges through your veins, goosebumps arising on your body with each passing second.

You need to leave. Run. Soon. Now.

You find yourself frozen in your place.

"I wonder what your parents would have to say–"

"No, sir." Instantly you crane your neck over to him, nails digging on the armrests of your chair. Your shoulders rise and fall as the hypertension settles in you. Your heart is thumping in your ears, fingers are trembling with anticipation and to add insult to the injury, darkness has started to commence. "Not my parents, please sir. Th-they– I don't know what they'll do to me. Plesse sir, j-just not that."

He leans against the door of his office, gazing at you with mere casualty, "You think you are in the position to make requests?" His irises flicks to the corner of the room. "You've made your bed. Now lie on it."

"Sir, please–" You are on the verge where you wouldn't have a second thought before begging on your knees. Something's pooling in your eyes and it stings as bad as your nails on the wooden armrests. "Anything but that. I will complete all of your assignments and I'll personally improve my grades without anyone's help. Sir, just one chance, please."

He huffs, twisting his lips as if a mirthful play is being presented to him. "Why should I believe you? Have you ever given me a reason to know you're reliable?"

"Sir, I have to try." Instantly, you stand up, marching over to him. "And– and I know I've been indecent–"

"Irresponsible and obnoxious, as well."

"Yes," It's painful but you have no other choice. "I know and I am sorry. Really sorry, just give me another chance."

He tips his head towards you, narrowing his eyes, "You think, you're redeemable?"

"Yes, sir. Of course, I am ready to do anything to prove it to you."

His eyes sparkles with something you can't decipher, "very well," He straightens up, taking a singular step towards you—only now, you're aware of how limited proximity but before you can contemplate, he speaks, "Let's start your first lesson on redemption."

[sweetkpopmusings]

seungmin coworker headcanons <3

a/n: and with this, i am completing the coworker!skz series !! this took way longer than i expected (like....so much longer....), but i've loved every second of it !! i hope these silly little coworker vibes bring you the comfort they have brought me :,-) pics not mine <3

content: fluff, nonidol!au | wc: 0.9k | warnings: none really! brief mentions of food/drinking | pairing: coworker!seungmin x gn!reader | requests: open

you started at the company at the same time, so you went through orientation together

by default, you were friendly with each other, since both of you were figuring out how the office worked while trying to get to know people or avoiding getting to know people

soon the default friendliness turned into a genuine workplace camaraderie because y’all’s energies matched so well

if any coworkers ask about you two being friends though, seungmin will not hesitate to say he doesn't know you LMAO

when people ask you about seungmin and you say, “oh seungmin? yeah, he’s great! one of my favorite people here!” they give you a strange look that you truly do not understand

you share this with seungmin and he laughs for like 10 minutes but refuses to explain what’s so funny 😐

months later one of your coworkers explains the situation, including the fact that there are conspiracy theories around the office about you and seungmin’s actual relationship

you do not let seungmin live that menace behavior down

buuuuut his menace behavior is part of what makes you love him so much and he knows that so you don’t hold a grudge for too long lol

one time you catch him singing in the breakroom and you can’t believe there has been an angel ???? working in YOUR office ??? this WHOLE TIME ?????

when you ask seungmin if that was him singing he says “no <3”

you tell him you heard him and he replies, “if you were there, why did you ask me if i was the one singing?”

you roll your eyes, dropping the subject because you assume he was embarrassed since you two didn’t know each other that well yet :-( 

he was a little shy

then he walks right back out after he makes his coffee or grabs his snack like nothing ever happened

when you mention it, he acts like it’s no big deal, but he’s blushing because any compliment from you means the world to him :,-)

seungmin’s compliments are so……strange

he compliments you a LOT. like way more than you realize

rather than saying “that presentation was really good!” or something straightforward, seungmin opts for things like “that presentation was unlike anything i’ve ever seen before” and “sometimes you make me wonder if i’m in the right field”

after, you stare at him very confused but still thank him because you don’t know what else to say

once you’re more comfortable with him, you ask him what he means

and now seungmin’s looking at you like ???????

he says “i’m complimenting you!” and then flashes you his puppy smile

oh seungmin my sweet, strange boy <3

you’re relieved to know that your favorite coworker isn’t constantly dragging your work and you feel that you’ve unlocked a new level of friendship by decoding a part of his brain

seungmin also feels as though he’s unlocked a new level of friendship with you :,-) 

one afternoon, you make him a playlist called “bad bitch vibes” because of the look he has on his face whenever he walks around the office 

he scolds you for not doing your work but he plays it extra loud in his headphones the next time he walks by your desk to let you know that he appreciates it (and enjoys it…he will be throwing ass to it after-hours)

seungmin spends a long time making you a playlist :-((((( he’s so nervous to give it to you, so he won’t send it your way until every last detail is perfect

he calls it something like “time is money” or “do better” LOL

he also sends it to you with no explanation ??? he drops the link and doesn’t say anything else until a few hours later, when he asks you if you have a highlighter he can borrow

when he comes over to borrow said highlighter, seungmin glances at your computer to see if you’re listening to the playlist

after he starts to walk away, you say, “hey seungmin! i really like the playlist! thank you so much!”

he has the BIGGEST smile on his face :,,,,,,,-)

instead of saying “you’re welcome” he tells you to get back to work <3

he thoroughly enjoys your company, and any day in the office without you is a subpar day for him :-( he gets SO excited when he sees you walk back through the doors after you’ve taken time off 

one day, when everything, absolutely everything, is going wrong for you, seungmin feels like he can’t get any work done until he knows you’re okay

he sends you silly messages, leaves you little treats, and even offers to help you out with some work

while you’re super appreciative of his efforts, it still doesn’t reverse the bad day :-(

in the afternoon, seungmin walks up to your desk and just stands there like 🧍

you glance up to ask him what he needs, not fully paying attention as you’re in a huge rush to finish a dozen tasks in an hour

seungmin blurts out, “i only like working here because i get to work with you.”

immediately, you look at seungmin like :-0 because ???? that’s the most genuine thing he’s ever said to you ???? where is the punchline ???

this time, there is no punchline <3

seungmin smiles sweetly and then tells you to come get him whenever you finish your work, so you two can go get dinner/a drink/anything that will make you feel better after such a stressful day

when he walks away, you realize all the stress has dissipated because you now know for certain that seungmin will always be there for you <3

seungmin is just the silliest little guy who is a massive supporter of you and everything you do because he is eternally grateful you went from being a work acquaintance to a genuine friend :,,,,-) <333333