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won4kiss · 1 month ago

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﹙ 🎬 ﹚ ────TO ALL THE BOYS I’VE LOVED BEFORE.

SYPNOSiS. you and park sunghoon were close friends until high school changed things. when your best friend began dating him, you realized your feelings for sunghoon ran deeper than friendship—a letter you wrote a long time ago makes its way to park sunghoon, what will happen when he asks you to fake date him? could you ignore your past feelings or will this go horribly wrong.. INSPIRED BY TATBILB.

୨୧ PAiRING. ex-bestfriend’s ex boyfriend! park sunghoon x fem! reader, jock! sunghoon x academic! reader.

୨୧ GENRE. highschool romance, fake dating, mostly fluff, very minimal angst. non!idol au. she fell first, he fell harder, happy ending!!

୨୧ WARNiNGS. profanities, kissing, karina being annoying ngl.. yn being indecisive, overthinking, not proofread.

୨୧ WORD COUNT. 10,456 / 10.4K

𝓟𝗟𝗔𝗬𝗟i𝗦𝗧 ﹕ i like me better, lauv, goodnight n go, ariana grande, boyfriend, ariana grande, new romantics, taylor swift, somebody to you, the vamps, fine line, harry styles, japanese denim, daniel caesar.

NOTE. thank u guys sm for all the support on the teaser!! i’m not too happy with this but i hope u guys enjoy reading this ^^ i literally love the movies sm so i HAD to write smt for tatbilb ☝️🤓 i strongly recommend reading the teaser before this!!

IT’S JUST AN ORDINARY AFTERNOON, OR SO YOU THINK.

you’re in your room, organizing the clutter on your desk that’s been piling up for years—old notebooks, random receipts, ticket stubs from movies you don’t even remember watching.

a wave of nostalgia hits as you sift through bits and pieces of your past—buried beneath a pile of loose papers, you find it: the letter. that letter.

the one you wrote to park sunghoon all those years ago.

your breath catches in your throat as you stare at the crinkled envelope, your heart beating faster as memories rush back. you’d almost forgotten about it—almost.

with your hands trembling, you pick up the letter, reading the words scribbled across the front.

his name, written in your messy handwriting, brings back a flood of feelings you thought you’d buried for good.

this letter holds all the emotions you couldn’t say out loud. it’s a part of you—a vulnerable, painful part that you’ve kept locked away for years.

you’re tempted to rip it apart, to destroy it like you should have back then.

but before you can make a decision, your phone buzzes on the desk beside you.

a message notification from your younger sibling—who’s supposed to be helping with errands—pulls your attention away.

“hey, can you drop off the mail for me? i left a bunch of letters on the kitchen counter. thanks!”

you groan, glancing at the clock—you don’t really have the time to run errands right now, but you suppose it won’t take long.

tossing the letter back into the pile, you get up, grab the stack of letters from the kitchen, and head to the mailbox.

the evening air is cool, and you take a deep breath, trying to clear your head.

it’s just a letter, you remind yourself. it’s in the past—sunghoon is in the past. he and karina are in the past.

you drop the letters into the mailbox without a second thought.

it isn’t until much later—when you’re getting ready for bed—that the realization hits you like a punch to the gut.

the letter—sunghoon’s letter.

panic floods your chest as you bolt upright, your heart pounding in your ears.

you scramble to your desk, frantically shuffling through the papers, looking for the envelope. but it’s not there. it’s gone.

you feel sick.

“no, no, no…” you whisper to yourself, your mind racing in denial.

you couldn’t have misplaced it could you?

you had placed it in the pile, the pile you just dropped into the mailbox. the letter—the one meant for no one—is on its way to park sunghoon.

the next morning, you’re a mess.

you hardly slept, your mind replaying every worst-case scenario over and over.

what’s going to happen when sunghoon reads the letter? will he think you’re some weirdo still pining after him? will he laugh at how pathetic you must seem?

you can’t stop the panic from rising, no matter how much you try to calm yourself down.

by the time you’re at school, you feel like a bundle of nerves, anxiety if it were a physical form.

you avoid everyone, keeping your head low as you rush to your first class, hoping to make it through the day unnoticed.

but fate doesn’t seem to care about your plans.

you’re at your locker, rifling through your books, when you feel someone approach you from behind.

the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. slowly, you turn around, and your stomach drops— park sunghoon is standing right there.

his tall figure leans casually against the lockers, his eyes locked on yours, unreadable.

you’ve seen that cool, calm expression a million times before, but now it makes your palms sweat.

“hey,” he says, his voice smooth and silky, just like always.

you blink, trying to keep your expression neutral. “oh…hey, sunghoon.”

he’s quiet for a moment, and the tension in the air thickens—you can tell he’s holding something back.

finally, he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out the letter. your letter.

“so—uh..i got this in the mail yesterday.”

your blood runs cold as your eyes lock onto the familiar envelope in his hand. the world feels like it’s tilting, and all you can think is, this isn’t happening. this can’t be happening.

“i wasn’t expecting something like this,” he says, raising an eyebrow, his voice laced with a mix of amusement and curiosity. “you wanna explain?”

you open your mouth, but no words come out.

what are you even supposed to say? that it was a mistake? that you didn’t mean to send it? that the feelings you wrote about years ago were just a phase, long since forgotten?

sunghoon waits, watching you with that calm, intense gaze that makes your pulse race.

he’s not giving anything away, not yet. you can’t tell if he’s mad or confused or if he’s just messing with you.

but you know one thing: he’s not letting this go.

finally, you manage to speak. “i… i didn’t mean for you to see that.”

sunghoon tilts his head, looking intrigued. “no?”

“no,” you say quickly, feeling your cheeks heat up. “it was a long time ago. i wrote it…a while back. i never meant to send it.”

there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—surprise, maybe?—but he doesn’t let it show for long. “so…you don’t feel this way anymore?”

you freeze.

how do you even answer that? the truth is…complicated—you hadn’t thought about those feelings for a long time, at least not consciously.

you thought you were over it—over him. but now, standing here with him holding your deepest secrets in his hands, all those old emotions are bubbling up to the surface, making you second-guess everything.

“i…” you start, but the words stick in your throat.

sunghoon watches you closely, his gaze sharp and focused. it’s the same look he used to give you when you were younger, the look that said he could see right through you.

he always knew when something was bothering you. he always knew you.

“you don’t have to answer right now,” he says, his voice softer than before. “but…we need to talk about this. you can’t just drop something like this on me and expect me to ignore it.”

you nod, feeling your stomach churn—you don’t trust yourself to speak, so you stay silent, hoping the ground will open up and swallow you whole.

but sunghoon doesn’t move. he just keeps standing there, holding the letter between his fingers, as if waiting for something.

then, as if sensing your discomfort, he sighs and folds the letter, tucking it back into his jacket.

“look, y/n,” he says, his tone more relaxed now, “i’m not mad or anything. it’s just…unexpected.”

you nod again, your throat dry.

sunghoon pushes off the lockers, taking a step closer, his presence is overwhelming, making your heart race.

“we’ll figure this out,” he says, his voice low and steady. “but for now, let’s just…talk later. after school?”

you swallow hard, nodding once more. “yeah. after school.”

he gives you a small, reassuring smile before turning and walking down the hallway, leaving you standing there, dazed and overwhelmed.

your mind is spinning, replaying everything that just happened, and all you can think is: what now?

the day feels like a blur after your confrontation with sunghoon.

every class drags on as your mind races through every possible outcome of that letter being in his hands.

when you get called on during your calculus class, you barely manage a coherent answer, your usual sharpness dulled by the storm in your head.

normally, being the top student in your class—the one everyone goes to for homework help or notes—gives you some confidence.

but right now, nothing seems to calm your nerves—not even acing the quiz that’s handed back to you.

all you can think about is what sunghoon wants to “talk about” after school.

you’re already dreading it when the final bell rings.

as you head toward the meeting spot—outside the gym, where you know sunghoon will be after practice—you can’t stop the tight knot forming in your stomach.

the hallway buzzes with activity, people passing by in crowds—athletes are huddled in groups, chatting loudly about the upcoming game, and among them is sunghoon—blending in perfectly.

he’s talking to his friends, tall and confident in his varsity jacket, his hair slightly messy from practice.

the sight of him makes your chest tighten—he’s the type of guy who seems to have it all: popularity, athletic skill, and that natural charm that draws people in.

you, on the other hand, are the complete opposite��known for your academics rather than your social life.

the two of you haven’t even spoken in years, not since that rift grew between you after his breakup with karina.

and now, you’re about to dive into a conversation that could make things a hundred times more awkward.

you stand a few feet away, hesitating, until sunghoon notices you.

he gives you a small, almost secret smile, and breaks away from his group, leaving his teammates behind.

“hey,” he says casually, as if the two of you talk every day.

you manage a shaky smile. “hey.”

sunghoon gestures for you to follow him around the corner, where it’s quieter, away from the lingering crowd.

the tension between you is thick, and the air feels charged with unspoken things.

you hug your books closer to your chest, trying to find the right words, but it’s sunghoon who speaks first.

“i thought about what you said earlier,” he starts, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms.

his expression is serious, but not in an intimidating way—more like he’s trying to work through something in his head.

“and i get that the letter was from a long time ago, but…i think there’s something we could both get out of this.”

your brows knit in confusion. “what do you mean?” sunghoon sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“look, ever since the breakup with karina, i’ve been getting a lot of…questions. people keep assuming things, especially with you being involved, since you were friends with her. it’s getting annoying.”

you frown, not liking where this is going. “what kind of things?”

he shrugs, but his eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that makes your stomach flip. “people think you’re the reason we broke up.”

your heart skips a beat. “what—me?”

“yeah,” he says, his tone casual, but you can see the weight behind his words. “there’s this rumor that i broke up with her because of you. that we had this…thing going on behind her back.”

you can’t believe what you’re hearing. “that’s ridiculous. i barely even talked to you after you guys got together.”

“i know,” he says, his eyes softening. “but you know how high school is. people talk.”

you groan, rubbing your temple. this is exactly the kind of drama you’ve always tried to avoid, keeping your head down and focusing on school.

“so…what does this have to do with the letter?”

sunghoon straightens up, his gaze sharp. “i think we can use this to our advantage.”

“use…what?” you ask, your voice wary.

he gestures between the two of you. “the rumors. the letter. look, if people already think there was something between us, then why not just lean into it? we could pretend to date for a while. it’d shut people up, and i wouldn’t have to keep explaining myself to every person who asks about karina. and maybe it’ll get people off your back too.”

you blink at him, processing his words. “you want to pretend to date? like…fake dating?”

he nods like an excited puppy, as if it’s the most logical solution in the world. “exactly. it’d be easier for both of us. we’d keep it simple—just enough to make people believe it.”

your mind reels at the suggestion—you’ve seen this happen in movies, read about it in books, but this is real life.

and the idea of pretending to date sunghoon feels…absurd. sure, it might get people to stop talking about karina and his breakup, but what about you?

you’ve spent years keeping your feelings buried, and now he wants to parade around as if you’re together? that sounds like a recipe for disaster.

“sunghoon,” you start, your voice cautious, “i don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“why not?” he asks, looking genuinely confused.

“because it’s…weird,” you say, struggling to find the right words. “we haven’t even been friends for years. what makes you think anyone would believe we’re suddenly dating?”

he smirks, leaning in slightly. “because we used to be close. people know that. it wouldn’t be that much of a stretch.”

you bite your lip, still unconvinced. “but…what’s the point? i mean, won’t it just make things worse when people find out it’s fake?”

he shrugs again, that easygoing confidence still radiating from him. “maybe. but by then, it won’t matter. they’ll have moved on to the next piece of gossip. besides, it’s not like we’d have to keep it up forever. just long enough for things to blow over.”

you hesitate, your mind spinning with possibilities.

on one hand, the thought of faking a relationship with sunghoon makes your stomach churn with anxiety.

but on the other hand…it could solve a lot of problems—maybe it would keep people from asking about karina.

maybe it would give you a chance to finally move past all the old feelings that have been resurfacing ever since the letter.

but it’s risky. too risky.

“i don’t know,” you say, your voice uncertain.

sunghoon watches you for a moment, then steps closer, lowering his voice.

“look, i know it’s a lot to ask, but think about it. this could be good for both of us. you wouldn’t have to keep dodging questions about karina, and i wouldn’t have to deal with everyone assuming things about us. plus,” he adds with a slight smirk, “it might even be fun.”

you give him a skeptical look as you scoff in disbelief. “fun?”

he grins, that playful glint in his eyes you remember so well from years ago.

“yeah. i mean, we used to be friends, right? it’s not like we don’t know how to get along. we can make it believable.”

there’s something in the way he’s looking at you, that spark of the old sunghoon—the boy who used to make you laugh, who used to confide in you late at night during sleepovers, before everything got complicated.

for a moment, you’re reminded of how easy things used to be between you two. how natural it felt.

maybe…just maybe, this could work.

you take a deep breath, weighing your options—it’s crazy. it’s beyond risky, but it might be the only way to fix this mess.

and if it’s just pretending, then what’s the harm? you’ll just have to keep your real feelings locked away—like you always have.

“okay,” you say finally, your voice steady. “let’s do it.”

sunghoon’s smile widens, and for a brief moment, you feel like you’ve made the right choice. he holds out his hand. “deal?”

you hesitate for just a second before shaking his hand. “deal.”

the next few days pass in a whirlwind of rumors, whispers, and carefully orchestrated moments.

word spreads fast that you and sunghoon are dating, and the school is buzzing with curiosity.

everyone seems to have their eyes on you—especially since you’re not exactly part of his social circle.

the jock and the ‘nerd’, the golden boy and the brainiac—it’s a combination that no one saw coming.

but you and sunghoon play the part well, you walk together in the hallways, sit next to each other during lunch, and even hang out after school for the occasional “study session.” to everyone else, it looks like the real deal.

you’re careful to keep things light and casual, just like sunghoon said.

no hand-holding or public displays of affection—just enough closeness to make it believable.

but as the days go by, you start to notice little things—the way sunghoon looks at you sometimes, his eyes lingering a bit too long.

the way he laughs at your jokes, even the ones that aren’t particularly funny. and the way your heart skips a beat whenever he smiles at you.

it’s all pretend, of course. it has to be—but sometimes…it feels too real.

as the days turn into weeks, the fake dating plan takes on a life of its own.

you and sunghoon settle into a routine of sorts—walking to class together, sharing lunch, and spending time after school.

it’s strange at first, pretending to be something you’re not, but soon it becomes almost second nature.

you’re surprised at how easy it is to fall into this rhythm with him, despite everything that’s happened between you, there’s a familiarity that lingers, reminding you of how things used to be when you were best friends.

sometimes, when you’re alone with him, it almost feels like no time has passed at all.

but that’s the problem, isn’t it? it’s too easy. too comfortable. and that’s when the lines start to blur.

it starts with the small things. like how he goes out of his way to find you in the mornings before school.

at first, it’s just part of the plan—he says you need to be seen together—but then it becomes something more.

his texts in the evenings aren’t just about “keeping up appearances” anymore; they’re full of little comments about your day, things that make you smile when you’re lying in bed at night, staring at your phone.

and then there are the moments when he touches you.

it’s never anything big or obvious—just his hand brushing against yours as you walk, or his arm slung casually around your shoulder when you’re sitting together during lunch.

each touch sends sparks through your skin, leaving you wondering if he feels it too.

but the biggest change comes one afternoon after school.

you’re sitting in the library, books spread out in front of you as you try to focus on an upcoming exam.

you’ve always been good at studying—quiet places like this are your sanctuary—but today, your mind is elsewhere.

you’re thinking about sunghoon, about the sparkle in his eyes when he looks at you, and how it’s making it harder to remember that this is all just pretend.

the sound of footsteps approaching snaps you out of your thoughts.

you glance up to see sunghoon walking toward you, that familiar soft smile on his face.

“hey,” he says, sliding into the seat across from you.

you raise an eyebrow. “you do realize this is the library, right? i thought jocks weren’t allowed in here.”

he chuckles, leaning back in his chair. “i’m full of surprises. besides, i thought you might need a break.”

you roll your eyes, but you can’t help the small smile that creeps onto your face. “i’m studying, hoon. you know, that thing people do when they want to pass their classes?”

he shrugs, clearly unconcerned. “yeah, but you’re already the smartest person in school. you can afford to take a break.”

you sigh, closing your book. “i can’t believe i’m saying this, but fine. what do you want?”

he leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. there’s something different in his eyes today—something softer.

“i was thinking we should go to the movies this weekend.”

you blink in surprise. “the movies?”

“yeah. you know, that place where people go to sit in the dark and pretend they’re not awkwardly sitting next to strangers?”

you narrow your eyes at him in suspicion. “why?”

he shrugs again, but there’s a playful glint in his eye. “why not? we’re supposed to be dating, right? might as well go on an actual date.”

you hesitate, your heart racing. “sunghoon, this was supposed to be lowkey. we agreed we wouldn’t do anything that would make it seem… too real.”

he raises an eyebrow. “it’s just a movie. we’re not getting married or anything.”

you bite your lip, feeling a strange feeling of excitement and anxiety building in your chest.

the idea of going on a date with sunghoon—even a fake one—makes your stomach do flips.

but you remind yourself that this is all part of the plan. it’s not real. it can’t be.

“okay,” you say finally. “but don’t expect me to share my popcorn.”

he grins, his smile lighting up his face. “deal.”

the weekend comes faster than you expected, and before you know it, you’re standing in front of the movie theater, feeling more nervous than you’ve felt in a long time.

you can’t figure out why—this is just a fake date, after all.

but there’s something about the way sunghoon looks when he arrives, wearing a casual jacket and that effortless smile, that makes your heart skip a beat.

“you ready?” he asks, his eyes glinting with amusement.

you nod, trying to calm the butterflies in your stomach. “yeah. let’s get this over with.”

sunghoon laughs and leads you inside, where you buy tickets and snacks.

you’re still trying to act nonchalant when you sit down in the theater, but the darkness and the closeness between you make it harder to ignore the way your body reacts to his presence.

his arm brushes against yours as he settles into his seat, and you can feel the heat radiating from him.

the movie starts, but you barely pay attention.

your mind is too busy racing through thoughts of sunghoon—how close he is, how easy it would be to just lean into him—your heart pounds in your chest, and you silently curse yourself for letting things get this far.

and then, halfway through the movie, it happens.

sunghoon shifts in his seat, and without thinking, his hand finds yours in the darkness.

his fingers curl around yours, gentle and warm, and for a moment, you freeze—your heart feels like it’s about to burst out of your chest.

you glance at him, but his eyes are focused on the screen, as if this is the most natural thing in the world.

as if holding your hand wasn’t something that would send your mind spiraling.

you tell yourself to pull away, to remind him that this is fake—that this can’t mean anything—but you don’t.

you let your hand stay in his, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours, and for the rest of the movie, you don’t move.

the walk home is quieter than usual, you and sunghoon walk side by side, but there’s a new kind of tension between you.

neither of you mention the hand-holding, and you’re not sure if it’s because you’re both trying to pretend it didn’t happen, or if you��re both too afraid to bring it up.

when you reach your house, you stop at the front door, turning to face him. “thanks for the movie,” you say, your voice soft.

sunghoon smiles, but there’s something different in his eyes—something you can’t quite read. “anytime.”

for a moment, you just stand there, unsure of what to do next—there’s a beat of silence, and then, before you can stop yourself, you speak.

“sunghoon…this is all still pretend, right?”

he looks at you, his expression unreadable. “of course.”

you nod, forcing a smile. “good. just wanted to make sure.”

but as you turn to go inside, you can’t shake the feeling that something has changed. something you might not be able to control.

the next week is filled with more of the same tension.

every time you and sunghoon are together, it feels like the air is charged with something you can’t quite define.

the lines between what’s real and what’s fake are starting to blur, and you can’t stop thinking about the way his hand felt in yours.

you know you shouldn’t be thinking like this.

this was all supposed to be an act—a way to get people off your backs—but now, with every passing day, it’s becoming harder to keep up the facade.

you’re starting to wonder if maybe, just maybe, there’s something more going on here, maybe he feels the same way.

and then, one afternoon after school, everything changes.

you’re at your locker, packing up your things, when you hear footsteps approaching.

you glance up to see karina standing a few feet away, her arms crossed and her eyes fixed on you.

your heart sinks.

it’s the first time you’ve seen her in months, and the look on her face is anything but friendly.

“we need to talk,” she says, her voice cold.

you swallow hard, nodding slowly. “okay.”

karina steps closer, her eyes narrowing. “what the hell is going on between you and sunghoon?”

you freeze, your mind racing—you’ve been so caught up in your fake relationship that you haven’t even thought about how this might look to karina.

she’s your ex-best friend, after all—and sunghoon is her ex.

“i…i don’t know what you mean,” you stammer, but karina isn’t buying it.

“don’t play dumb,” she snaps. “i know something’s going on. you’re always together now. you’re even going on dates.”

you open your mouth to deny it, to explain that it’s all just pretend, but the words die in your throat.

how are you supposed to explain something like this? that you’re fake dating her ex to get people to stop talking about the breakup? that it’s all just a lie?

but before you can say anything, karina cuts you off.

“just…tell me the truth,” she says, her voice softer now. “are you in love with him?”

the question hits you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you can’t breathe.

the answer should be simple—no, it’s all fake. but as you stand there, looking into karina’s eyes, you realize that you don’t know the answer anymore.

and that terrifies you.

karina’s question hangs in the air, heavy and suffocating, the hallway suddenly feels too small, the walls closing in around you.

your mind races, trying to figure out how to respond.

you’ve spent so long convincing yourself—and everyone else—that this relationship with sunghoon is fake, but now you’re not so sure.

you’re not in love with him… right? you can’t be. this is just pretend. it has to be.

but when you look at karina, her eyes full of hurt and suspicion, something twists in your chest.

you didn’t want to hurt her—yes, it was her who cut you off, but you still cared for her deeply.

you didn’t want to make things complicated, but now, everything feels like it’s spinning out of control.

“i…” your voice cracks, and you bite your lip, struggling to find the words. “karina, it’s not like that.”

she narrows her eyes, crossing her arms tightly across her chest. “then what is it like? because from where i’m standing, it looks like you’ve been sneaking around with sunghoon behind my back.”

you shake your head quickly. “no, no. it’s not like that at all. we’re not—” you stop, realizing that you can’t just blurt out the truth.

that it’s all fake. it would make everything worse, wouldn’t it? how could karina understand that this whole thing started as a way to avoid drama? you know you need to tread carefully.

“we’re not sneaking around,” you say finally, choosing your words carefully. “it just kind of…happened. but it’s not what you think.”

karina’s expression softens for a moment, and she looks at you with a mix of confusion and hurt.

“then what is it? were you planning this while we were friends? i thought we were friends back then. best friends.”

you flinch at her words, the guilt hitting you hard—there was a time when you and karina were inseparable, when she was the one you confided in about everything—except your feelings for sunghoon.

and that’s what ruined everything, isn’t it? you never told her how you felt about him. you kept it buried, hoping it would disappear, but it didn’t.

“i didn’t want to hurt you,” you say quietly. “i never meant for any of this to happen. after you and sunghoon broke up, i thought… i thought it wouldn’t matter anymore.”

karina lets out a bitter laugh, shaking her head.

“well, it does matter. and now i’m stuck watching my ex-boyfriend and my ex-best friend play house together like none of it ever meant anything.”

her words sting, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond.

part of you wants to explain everything—to tell her that this was all just fake, that none of it is real.

but there’s another part of you, a part that’s starting to realize that maybe, there’s more truth to this fake relationship than you want to admit.

before you can say anything else, karina steps back, her face hardening. “just…do me a favor, okay? be honest with yourself. if you’re in love with him, own it. don’t pretend it’s all some game. because it’s not.”

with that, she turns on her heel and walks away, leaving you standing there, your heart pounding in your chest.

you spend the rest of the day in a daze, karina’s words echoing in your mind.

be honest with yourself—how are you supposed to do that when you don’t even know what’s real anymore?

sunghoon hasn’t said anything about the way things have been between you lately, but you can feel it—the shift.

the way he looks at you differently, the way his touches linger just a little too long, the way he seems to genuinely care about what’s going on in your life.

it’s more than just pretending now—at least for you.

but the big question for you is: does he feel the same way? or is this all in your head?

later that evening, you’re sitting in your room, staring blankly at your textbooks, when your phone buzzes on the desk—it’s a message from sunghoon.

“wanna grab ice cream? need a break from all this studying.”

you hesitate, staring at the screen, the last thing you want is to spend time with him right now, not when everything feels so confusing.

but part of you knows that avoiding him won’t solve anything—if anything, you need to confront this head-on.

you need to figure out what’s going on between you, whether it’s real or not.

“sure,” you text back, your heart thudding in your chest.

the ice cream parlor is quiet when you arrive, the soft buzzing of the freezer and the scent of sugar filling the air.

sunghoon is already there, sitting at a booth in the corner with two cones in front of him.

he grins when he sees you, waving you over.

“i got your favorite,” he says, pushing a cone of double scooped strawberry ice-cream towards you.

you smile, sliding into the booth across from him. “thanks.”

for a moment, everything feels normal again. the two of you sit there, eating ice cream and talking about nothing in particular—school, classes, his upcoming game.

it’s easy, comfortable, just like it used to be—but underneath the surface, there’s something simmering, something that’s been building for weeks.

you decide to break the silence, you couldn’t avoid this conversation any longer.

“sunghoon,” you say, setting your cone down. “we need to talk.”

he raises an eyebrow, but there’s no surprise in his eyes. it’s like he’s been expecting this.

“about what?” he asks, though you can tell he already knows what you’re going to say.

you take a deep breath, your fingers fiddling with the napkin in front of you. “about… us.”

sunghoon leans back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest.

his expression is unreadable, but there’s a stiffness in his posture that wasn’t there before.

“what about us?” he asks, his voice quiet.

you hesitate, trying to find the right words. “this whole fake dating thing… it’s starting to feel like more than just a game.”

his eyes flicker with something—surprise? amusement? you can’t tell.

“go on,” he says, his voice softer now.

you bite your lip, the words catching in your throat. “i guess what i’m trying to say is… i don’t know if i can keep pretending. it’s getting harder to tell what’s real and what’s not.”

there. you’ve said it. you’ve put everything out in the open, and now all you can do is wait for his response.

for a moment, sunghoon is silent, his eyes locked on yours—the tension between you is almost unbearable, the air thick with unspoken words.

finally, he lets out a soft sigh, leaning forward.

“i’ve been thinking the same thing,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

your heart skips a beat, and for a moment, you think you’ve misheard him. “you have?”

he nods, his eyes searching yours. “yeah. at first, this was just supposed to be for show, but… i don’t know. it doesn’t feel fake anymore. not to me, at least.”

your breath catches in your throat. “so… what does that mean?”

sunghoon reaches across the table, taking your hand in his. his touch is warm, steady, and it sends a jolt of electricity through you.

“i think it means that maybe we should stop pretending,” he says softly. “and figure out what this really is.”

you stare at him, your mind racing. is this really happening? is sunghoon—your fake boyfriend, your old best friend, karina’s ex—actually saying that he wants something real?

“are you sure?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

he smiles, that familiar playful glint in his eyes. “yeah, pretty. i’m sure.”

the rest of the evening passes in a blur.—you and sunghoon talk—really talk—for the first time in weeks, peeling back the layers of your fake relationship and exposing the real feelings that have been hiding underneath.

it feels strange, scary even, to admit that you’ve both developed feelings for each other. but it also feels…right.

when he walks you home later that night, the air between you is light, free of the tension that’s been building for so long.

as you stand on your front porch, there’s a moment of hesitation—an awkward pause where neither of you knows what to do next.

but then, without saying a word, sunghoon steps closer, his hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear with a soft glint in his eyes.

your breath hitches, your heart pounding in your chest as his fingers linger against your skin.

and then, before you can stop yourself, you close the distance between you, pressing your lips to his.

the kiss is soft, hesitant at first, but it quickly deepens, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pulls you closer.

it’s like everything you’ve been holding back—the tension, the uncertainty, the feelings you’ve been too afraid to admit—finally breaks free.

when you finally pull away, you’re both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other.

“that didn’t feel fake,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing.

you laugh softly, your hands still resting against his chest. “no. it didn’t.”

the next morning, you wake up with a strange sense of peace.

for the first time in weeks, you don’t feel like you’re pretending—you don’t have to put on a show anymore, don’t have to act like your feelings for sunghoon are anything less than real.

but as you get ready for school, there’s still a small voice in the back of your mind—a nagging worry about what happens next.

how will people react when they find out that your “fake” relationship has turned real? and more importantly…how will karina take it?

you push those thoughts aside as you walk into school, determined not to let anything ruin the fragile happiness you’ve found with sunghoon.

but as soon as you step into the hallway, you realize that avoiding the truth isn’t going to be that easy.

because standing by your locker, arms crossed and eyes narrowed, is karina yet again.

the moment you see karina standing at your locker, your heart drops.

her arms are crossed tightly over her chest, her eyes narrowed in a way that tells you she knows.

she knows that whatever you had with sunghoon, fake or not, is no longer just a game.

there’s no avoiding this confrontation now—you’ve already crossed the line, and karina is here to make you deal with the fallout.

you brace yourself for what’s to come, walking toward her with your head held high.

inside, though, your stomach twists into knots—you’ve always hated confrontation, and this one feels worse than any argument you’ve ever had before.

“hi,” you say cautiously when you reach her, trying to sound calm.

but karina’s face is unreadable, her eyes cold as they lock onto yours.

“so are you two serious now?” she asks, her voice flat, devoid of emotion.

you flinch, feeling the weight of her words hit you—you expected her to be angry, maybe even furious, but this—this quiet, detached version of karina—is worse.

it’s like she’s shutting down, not giving you a chance to explain or apologize.

you take a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady. “karina, i didn’t plan for any of this to happen. it just—”

“it just what?” she cuts you off, her voice rising slightly. “it just happened? you didn’t plan on falling for him, but you did anyway?”

you bite your lip, unsure of what to say—she’s right. you didn’t plan for any of this, but that doesn’t make it any less painful for her.

and it doesn’t make you feel any less guilty.

“i really didn’t want to hurt you,” you say softly, but the words feel empty, even to you.

karina lets out a bitter laugh, shaking her head.“you know, for a long time, i thought we could go back to how things used to be. that we could just…move past everything. but i guess i was wrong.”

she looks at you, her eyes filled with disappointment. “i thought you were my best friend. but you’ve been hiding this the whole time, you didn’t even have the decency to tell me that you saw him that way.”

your heart clenches painfully in your chest. “karina, i wasn’t lying. i didn’t know—”

“didn’t know what?” she snaps. “that you had feelings for sunghoon? that you were using him to make me jealous? or did you just not care about how i’d feel once you finally admitted the truth?”

tears sting the corners of your eyes, but you blink them back, refusing to break down here, in the middle of the hallway.

“please—it wasn’t like that, i swear.”

karina stares at you for a long moment, her expression softening slightly. “maybe it wasn’t. but it doesn’t matter anymore. you made your choice.”

with that, she turns and walks away, leaving you standing there, a hollow ache settling in your chest.

you want to run after her, to fix things, but you know deep down that this isn’t something that can be fixed with an apology.

you’ve lost her for good now—your best friend—and you don’t know if you’ll ever get her back.

later that day, you’re sitting with sunghoon at lunch, but the usual lightness between you is gone.

you’re distracted, your mind still replaying the conversation with karina over and over—you can’t stop thinking about what she said, about how badly you’ve hurt her.

sunghoon notices. he always does.

“you okay?” he asks, leaning closer to you, his voice low and concerned.

you nod, but it’s a lie. “yeah, i’m fine.”

he doesn’t believe you, of course. “come on, don’t lie to me. i can tell something’s bothering you.”

you let out a sigh, pushing your food around on your tray without eating. “i talked to karina this morning. she’s…not okay with us. with what’s happening.”

sunghoon frowns, his expression turning serious. “what did she say?”

you shake your head, trying to brush it off. “she’s just…hurt. i don’t blame her. i’d feel the same way if i were in her shoes.”

sunghoon is quiet for a moment, his eyes flickering with something you can’t quite place.

“so what does that mean? do you want to stop? end this?”

the question takes you by surprise, and for a moment, you don’t know how to answer.

do you want to stop? would that make things better with karina? or would it just make everything worse?

“i don’t know,” you admit, your voice small. “i just don’t want to hurt her anymore.”

sunghoon’s jaw tightens, and you can see the tension building in his posture.

he’s frustrated, but he’s holding it back—for now. “so you want to throw everything away because karina’s upset? what about us?”

the words hang in the air, and you feel a lump form in your throat��he’s right. it’s not just about karina anymore.

it’s about you and him—and whatever this thing between you has become.

but how do you choose between someone you loved as a friend and someone you might be falling for?

“i don’t want to throw anything away,” you say quietly. “but i don’t know how to fix this.”

sunghoon runs a hand through his hair, clearly agitated. “look, i get that karina’s your friend, or at least she was, but we can’t keep pretending like we owe her something. we didn’t do anything wrong. she broke up with me, not the other way around.”

his words make sense, but they don’t take away the guilt gnawing at you. “i know, but—”

“but what?” he snaps, cutting you off. “are you going to let her decide how we live our lives? is that what this is about?”

you flinch at his tone, the sudden harshness in his voice catching you off guard. “no, of course not. i just…i didn’t think things would get this complicated.”

sunghoon lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “well, guess what? things are complicated. that’s life. but you can’t just run away every time something gets difficult.”

his words sting, and you feel a surge of defensiveness rise in your chest.

“i’m not running away,” you snap, your voice sharper than you intended. “i’m just trying to figure out how to do the right thing.”

“and what’s the right thing, huh?” sunghoon challenges, his eyes flashing with frustration.

“because from where i’m standing, it seems like you’re more worried about what karina thinks than what we have.”

you open your mouth to respond, but the words catch in your throat.

you don’t know how to explain it—how torn you feel between your loyalty to karina and your growing feelings for sunghoon.

it feels like no matter what you do, someone is going to get hurt.

“maybe we rushed into this,” you say softly, the words barely audible.

sunghoon’s expression hardens. “so what are you saying? you want to call it quits? pretend like none of this ever happened?”

you bite your lip, hating the way his words cut into you. “i don’t know, sunghoon. i just need time to think.”

there’s a long pause, and you can feel the weight of his disappointment pressing down on you. finally, he stands up, grabbing his bag from the floor.

“take all the time you need,” he says coldly. “but don’t expect me to wait around forever.”

and with that, he walks away, leaving you sitting there alone, the ache in your chest growing deeper by the second.

the next few days are torture—sunghoon barely speaks to you, and when he does, it’s short and distant, like he’s putting up a wall between you.

it’s painful, watching the person you’ve grown so close to suddenly shut you out.

and as much as you want to talk to him, to apologize, you’re not sure if you even know how to fix things.

karina’s words still haunt you, and the guilt you feel for hurting her hasn’t gone away.

but now, there’s something else—something worse. the fear that you’ve lost sunghoon, too.

it’s late one evening, after another day of tense silences and awkward interactions, that you decide you can’t take it anymore.

you grab your phone, your fingers hovering over sunghoon’s contact—for a moment, you hesitate, your heart pounding in your chest.

what if he doesn’t want to talk? what if he’s already decided that it’s over?

but you can’t keep avoiding this, you need to confront it head-on, like he said.

taking a deep breath, you type out a message.

“can we talk? please.”

you don’t expect him to respond right away, but to your surprise, your phone buzzes just a few seconds later.

“meet me at the park.”

your heart races as you grab your jacket and head out, the cool night air biting at your skin as you walk to the park where you and sunghoon used to hang out.

it’s quiet when you arrive, the dim streetlights casting long shadows across the grass.

and there, sitting on a bench near the playground, is sunghoon.

he looks up when he sees you, his expression unreadable. you walk over slowly, your heart pounding in your chest.

“hey,” you say softly, sitting down next to him.

“hey,” he replies, his voice flat.

for a moment, neither of you says anything—the silence stretches between you, heavy with everything that’s been left unsaid. finally, you break the tension.

“i’m really sorry, hoon,” you say quietly, your voice trembling. “i didn’t mean to hurt you.”

sunghoon lets out a sigh, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees.

“it’s not about hurting me. it’s about whether or not you actually want this with me.”

you swallow hard, your chest tightening. “i do. i really do.”

he looks at you then, his eyes searching yours for something—truth, maybe. “then what’s the problem? why are you so afraid of just…being with me?”

you bite your lip, struggling to put your feelings into words. “it’s not that i don’t want to be with you. it’s just…everything with karina, and the rumors, and—”

“forget the rumors,” he says firmly, cutting you off. “forget karina for a second. this is about you and me. no one else. so what do you want?”

the question hits you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you can’t breathe.

what do you want? the answer is so simple, yet so terrifying at the same time.

“i want you,” you whisper, the words spilling out before you can stop them.

sunghoon’s eyes soften, and for the first time in days, his expression relaxes.

he reaches out, gently taking your hand in his. “then have me—stop pushing me away.”

tears prick the corners of your eyes, and you nod, squeezing his hand tightly.

“i’m sorry. i won’t do it again. i promise.”

he gives you a small, reassuring smile. “we’ll figure this out. together.”

and just like that, the weight that’s been pressing down on you for days lifts, and you feel a sense of relief wash over you.

things aren’t perfect, and you still have a lot to work through, but for the first time, you feel like you’re on the same page.

like maybe, this thing between you is real—and worth fighting for.

in the days that follow, things between you and sunghoon slowly begin to settle back into place, but there’s still a lingering sense of tension, like the calm before a storm.

you’re relieved that the two of you have talked things through, but the issues with karina—and your own guilt—haven’t magically disappeared.

you and sunghoon are careful around each other, more hesitant than before.

there’s still that spark, that undeniable chemistry, but the shadow of karina’s disappointment and the strain from the confrontation hang over everything.

and although sunghoon seems more open, there’s a subtle distance between you—like he’s holding something back, unsure if you’re really committed this time—protecting himself from a possible heartbreak.

it’s not until the night of the big game that things come to a head.

sunghoon has been talking about this game for weeks.

it’s the biggest one of the season, and the entire school is buzzing with excitement—you’ve never been much for sports, but you know how important it is to him, and even though part of you is still unsure about everything that’s happened, you want to be there for him.

you arrive at the stadium just as the game is about to start, the stands packed with students, teachers, and parents.

the energy in the air is buzzing with excitement, and you feel your nerves start to buzz as you scan the field for sunghoon.

he’s already out there, warming up with his team, looking confident and focused, like the whole world revolves around him in that moment.

a part of you can’t help but admire him.

he’s always been effortlessly good at everything—popular, athletic, the guy everyone wants to be.

and yet, despite that, he’s always been more than just the “jock” to you, he’s sunghoon—your friend, your fake boyfriend, and now…something more. something real.

but as you sit down in the bleachers, pulling your jacket tighter around you, you can’t shake the uneasy feeling in your chest.

you haven’t spoken to karina since that day in the hallway, and the thought of her finding out about you and sunghoon—about how things between you have changed—makes your stomach churn.

you’re still deep in thought when the game starts, the crowd erupting into cheers as the teams take the field.

you try to focus, but your mind keeps wandering back to karina, back to the conversation you had with her, and back to the guilt that’s been gnawing at you ever since.

the game is intense, and sunghoon is in his element, moving across the field with a kind of grace and power that’s impossible to ignore.

every time he scores, the crowd erupts in cheers, and you find yourself clapping along with everyone else, despite the turmoil in your heart.

but then, with just a few minutes left in the game, something happens.

one of the opposing players slams into sunghoon hard, sending him crashing to the ground.

the crowd gasps, and your heart leaps into your throat as you watch him lie there, unmoving.

for a moment, everything around you goes silent, and all you can focus on is sunghoon, lying on the field in pain.

you don’t even realize you’ve stood up until someone grabs your arm, pulling you back down.

“he’s fine,” a voice says from beside you. “he’ll get up.”

but you can’t relax—your mind races with fear and worry as you watch the coach and the team trainer rush out to help him.

sunghoon slowly sits up, wincing as he moves, and you let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. he’s hurt, but he’s okay.

still, watching him in pain stirs something inside you—something more than just concern for ‘a crush’.

it’s the realization that you care about him more deeply than you’ve allowed yourself to admit.

you’ve been holding back, too scared to fully commit, but now, seeing him like this, you know that you don’t want to lose him—not over karina, not over anything.

after the game, you wait for sunghoon outside the locker rooms, pacing nervously.

you’re still shaken from watching him get hurt, but there’s something else weighing on you now—something more urgent.

when sunghoon finally emerges from the locker room, he looks tired and a little worse for wear, but when he sees you standing there, a smile breaks across his face.

“hey,” he says, walking over to you with a slight limp. “you waited.”

“of course i did,” you say, trying to smile, but the worry in your voice betrays you. “are you okay?”

he shrugs, trying to play it off. “i’ll be fine. just a bad hit.”

you bite your lip, your eyes searching his face. “sunghoon… i’ve been thinking.”

he raises an eyebrow, looking slightly confused. “about what?”

“about us. about…everything.” you take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “i know i’ve been all over the place lately, and i know i’ve hurt you by not being clear about what i want. but i’ve realized something tonight.”

sunghoon watches you closely, his eyes narrowing slightly. “and what’s that?”

you step closer to him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“i don’t want to keep pretending that this doesn’t matter—you matter to me, sunghoon. i always have—more than i’ve let myself admit. and i know things are complicated with karina, and the rumors, and everything else, but… i want to be with you. for real.”

there’s a long pause, and for a moment, you’re terrified that you’ve said too much, that maybe you’ve pushed him away for good this time.

but then, slowly, a smile spreads across sunghoon’s face.

“you mean that?” he asks, his voice soft.

you nod, your eyes locked on his. “yeah. i do.”

sunghoon lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “you know, i’ve been waiting for you to say that for weeks now.”

before you can respond, he steps forward, pulling you into his arms—his hands are warm against your back, and you can feel his heart beating against your chest as he holds you tightly, like he’s afraid to let go.

“i’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs into your hair. “not unless you want me to.”

you close your eyes, burying your face in his shoulder as relief washes over you. “i don’t want you to.”

the next day, you wake up feeling lighter than a feather, light— the same lightness you’d feel after binge watching all the harry potter movies with sunghoon back in the day, the same lightness after you two swore to stay best friends forever—the same lightness you felt as sunghoon and you went back-to-school shopping together for the first day of highschool—the lightness of sitting in the ice-cream booth together—like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

for the first time in weeks, you’re not filled with anxiety or doubt.

you’ve made your decision, and now you’re ready to move forward—with sunghoon, with whatever this relationship might bring.

but that doesn’t mean everything is resolved.

later that afternoon, you receive a text from karina.

“we need to talk.”

your stomach tightens as you read the message—you knew this conversation was coming, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

you’ve been dreading it, but at the same time, you know it’s necessary.

you can’t keep avoiding her, and you can’t keep pretending like everything is fine.

you meet karina at a quiet café on the edge of town, your heart pounding as you walk through the door.

she’s already there, sitting at a table near the window, her hands wrapped around a mug of coffee.

when she sees you, she gives you a small nod, but there’s no warmth in her eyes.

you sit down across from her, your nerves jangling. “hey.”

“hey,” she replies, her voice unreadable.

for a moment, neither of you says anything, the silence between you heavy and uncomfortable.

you can tell that karina is still hurt, and you don’t blame her.

you’ve been avoiding her, too afraid to face the truth of what’s happened between you.

finally, karina breaks the silence.

“i saw you and sunghoon together last night. after the game.”

your heart skips a beat. “karina, i—”

“i’m not mad,” she interrupts, surprising you. “at least, not anymore. i’ve had time to think about it, and i’ve realized that… i can’t control what happens between you and him. it sucks, and it hurts, but i can’t keep holding onto something that’s already gone.”

you blink, taken aback by her honesty. “you’re not mad?”

she sighs, her shoulders slumping slightly. “i mean, yeah, it hurts seeing you two together, but… i can’t keep being angry. it’s not fair to either of us.”

you stare at her, unsure of what to say—you’ve been bracing yourself for an argument, for karina to lash out at you, but instead, she’s…letting go. she’s accepting it.

“i’m sorry,” you say softly, your voice thick with emotion. “i really never wanted to hurt you.”

karina gives you a small, sad smile. “i know. and i believe you.”

for the first time in weeks, you feel a sense of relief.

maybe things between you and karina will never go back to how they were, but at least you’re not leaving things unresolved—at least now, there’s a chance to heal.

the days that follow feel like a fresh start.

you and sunghoon grow closer, your relationship deepening as you finally let go of the doubts and fears that have been holding you back.

there are no more rumors, no more pretending. it’s just the two of you, and for the first time, that’s enough.

you still see karina from time to time, and though things are awkward at first, there’s a sense of understanding between you now.

she’s moving on, too, in her own way, and while your friendship may never be the same, you two are still trying your best to make the most out of it—to forgive and heal together.

one afternoon, as you and sunghoon sit together on the bleachers, watching the sunset after his practice, he turns to you with a grin.

“so,” he says, nudging you playfully. “are you ready to stop pretending we’re just fake dating?”

you laugh, leaning against his shoulder. “i think we’ve been past that point for a while now, hoon.”

he smiles, his eyes soft as he looks down at you “good. because i don’t plan on letting you go anytime soon.”

you smile back, feeling a warmth spread through your chest as you rest your head against him.

for the first time in a long time, you feel like you’re exactly where you’re meant to be—no more pretending, no more doubts.

just you and sunghoon, and the future ahead of you.

a few days later, it’s the championship game, and the energy in the stadium is like nothing you’ve ever experienced.

the stands are packed with students, parents, and teachers, all buzzing with excitement as they watch the final moments of the game unfold.

the score is tied, and there’s only one minute left on the clock.

you’re sitting on the edge of your seat, next to karina your heart pounding in your chest as you watch sunghoon move across the field with lightning speed.

his eyes are locked on the ball, his focus razor-sharp, and you know—this is his moment.

this is what he’s been working toward all season.

“come on, sunghoon,” you whisper under your breath, your hands clenched into fists as you lean forward.

the crowd is on their feet, everyone holding their breath as sunghoon makes his move.

he dodges one defender, then another, running through the opposing team with ease—and then, with just seconds to spare, he takes the shot.

the ball soars through the air, and for a moment, it feels like time has stopped.

everyone watches in stunned silence as the ball flies toward the goal…and lands perfectly in the back of the net.

the crowd erupts into cheers, the sound so loud it shakes the stadium, and you jump to your feet, screaming in excitement.

sunghoon has done it—he’s won the game.

on the field, his teammates rush toward him, lifting him up onto their shoulders as they celebrate their victory.

sunghoon is laughing, his face lit up with pure joy as he’s carried around the field—but even in the middle of all the chaos, his eyes are searching for something—or someone.

then, you see it—his gaze locks onto yours from across the field, and in that moment, it’s like no one else exists.

the cheers, the noise, the celebration—it all fades away as sunghoon looks at you, a wide smile spreading across his face.

you felt a soft nudge beside you, making you turn to face the girl who you’d been spending time with recently.

“babe—what are you waiting for? go!” she shouts excitedly making you run down the stands to congratulate sunghoon.

without a second thought, he jumps down from his teammates’ shoulders, running toward you with a determination that makes your heart race.

before you can even process what’s happening, he’s in front of you, sweeping you into his arms and lifting you off the ground.

you let out a startled laugh as he spins you around, your feet dangling in the air. “sunghoon, what are you doing?”

but he doesn’t answer. instead, he pulls you close and kisses you, his lips warm and soft against yours.

the world around you melts away, and all you can feel is him—his arms wrapped tightly around you, his breath mingling with yours, the sheer joy radiating from him.

when you finally pull back, you’re both breathless, and you can’t help but laugh.

“you’re supposed to be celebrating with your team, you know.”

sunghoon grins, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “i’d rather celebrate with you.”

you roll your eyes, but the smile on your face is impossible to hide. “you’re impossible, you know that?”

“yeah, but you love me anyway,” he teases, setting you back down on the ground.

you playfully slap his arm, shaking your head. “go celebrate with your teammates. you earned this.”

but sunghoon just shrugs, pulling you closer. “they can wait. right now, i just want to be with my girlfriend.”

your heart swells at his words, and for a moment, you’re overwhelmed by how much you care about him.

this is real—so much more than the fake relationship you started with.

you’re no longer the girl from the beginning of highschool, locked in her room writing letters heartbroken at night.

now, standing here in the middle of a roaring crowd with sunghoon holding you like you’re the only person in the world, you realize just how far you’ve come together.

you smile, leaning in to kiss him again, your lips brushing softly against his. “okay,” you whisper against his mouth. “but you better go back to them soon, or they’re going to start wondering where their star player went.”

sunghoon laughs, the sound warm and full of happiness. “fine. but don’t go anywhere. i’m not done celebrating with you yet.”

you laugh too, your heart light as you watch him jog back toward his teammates, the smile on his face never fading.

the crowd is still cheering, the excitement still there, but all you can focus on is the way sunghoon keeps glancing back at you, like you’re the only person in the world who matters.

and in that moment, you know—you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

no more pretending, no more doubts. just you, sunghoon, and the love you’ve both fought so hard to find.

❝ PLEASE REBLoG AND LiKE .ᐟㅤ 💌

୨୧ TAGLIST OPEN ‹𝟹 @mioons @nshmuras @suneng @pnghoon @shawnyle @laylasbunbunny @privareum @briefsaladfun @shawnyle @cyjzzl @sol3chu @txtlyn @d-dilemma @deezbin @pockyyasii @iluvnikism @wonsprincess @rikibwn @niawonn @nineooooo @onlyjjong @isa942572 @jiryunie @ikeulove @bunnihhoon @lucycarlisleswife @whateverhoon @coqhee @rkivesfilm @aanniikkaa @moon3verland @moon368 @httpenhoon @mimismenu @enhastolemyheart @wrongbathroom : COMMENT OR SEND AN ASK TBA.

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certifiedlovergirlsstuff · 6 months ago

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twenty four, birthday boy | s.r. x fem!reader

“you look very handsome, birthday boy.”

spencer leaned his head back to see you standing beside his desk with your hands behind your back. dressed in a lavender short-sleeved button up paired with a simple black maxi skirt and your simple flats, a subtle smile pairing as your accessory, you looked radiant this morning.

“thank- thank you.” unconscious hand reaching up to mess with the giant birthday cake hat derek forced onto his head. it felt kinda nice to be treated like a kid on his birthday for once.

your eyes went up at the action then back to his face, “got you a present.” taking a small sage green wrapped box with a baby blue ribbon attached from behind your back, giving a tiny shake to it. fingers curled gently to hold the mystery gift outstretched.

“i tried to remember if you mentioned owning it or wanting to. i kept a receipt in cause though.” smile waving just a bit, it made his heart stutter a beat.

“i’d keep it anyway, it was from you.” his own smile twitching from nerves. his statement caused your smile to widen, cheeks scrunching up your eyes. “open it, spence.” you were the only one who calls him that.

finally grabbing the box, his slim fingers brushed over your painted nails before you pulled your arms away, tucking them back behind your back. spencer took his time peeling away the plastic wrapping and shiny bow, wanting to preserve the gift in its entirety. next came a cardboard box and once that was gone it revealed a cartoon figure.

“oh no way!” it was a bobble head figure of the fourth doctor. it was still inside the packaging and spencer was debating if he should keep it inside or take it out and proudly display it. then he noticed the small folded paper taped at the top.

“it’s just a small note slash birthday card.” speaking up after spencer went silent too long. he looked back towards you, “wanted it to be personal.” shrugging off the kind words and action.

slowly peeling the tape from the packaging, spencer set the gift aside so his full attention would be on the words you wrote from your heart. licking his lips then flipping open the small paper he was met with your cursive-print handwriting, he’s been able to understand your scribbled words after the first case.

happy birthday dr. spencer walter reid. yes i know your middle name and yes i got it off garcia, i wont tell though. it’s been a wonderful few months since you’ve joined the department and i couldn’t ask for a better new friend. (don’t tell pen, but you might be my number one now) to many more years together as a family. -love y/n l/n <3

a/n: @bringitonhomejohnb a wish has been granted

#erin writes #spencer reid #spencer reid x liaison!reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine

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sunheldthing · 2 years ago

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incredibly hot man gave me his # yesterday and i fucking lost itttttt

#lmao i wrote it on a piece of receipt paper #why

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paint-the-walls-white · 8 months ago

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Mein Liebe

Pairing: König x PlusSized!Reader

Summary: After meeting an incredibly large man, at a McDonalds, every part of life changes thanks to him.

Warnings: BDE! StomachBulge! Doggy! Sideways! Oral(M2F)! CreamPies! Breeding! Lots of biting! SexualHarassment!

König was big. He was always described as mountainous, even towering over the most intimidating members of Task Force 141, Ghost included.

He was very reserved as a person, social anxiety getting the best of him most of the time. But, nonetheless, his team always did their best to push him out of his shell. But at this point they were getting desperate.

Which is why they sent him to McDonalds to get everyone Lunch. He was bitter about it, but he was pretty hungry, and it was only a short drive from the base. Besides, it would be a nice change of pace from the cantina's shit on a plate.

It was supposed to be easy, he even had their orders on a piece of paper. But then the drive through intercom was down, courtesy of TF141 tampering with radio signals in the area.

König had to go inside. It was still fine though, he could always use the kiosks right?

Of course not. A cruel twist of fate really. The local crackhead had caused a ruckus and had broken both of them, shattering the screen.

He'd have to order at the counter.

Heart racing, eyes darting, and breath unsteady, he approached the counter. It was quiet inside, not too busy but not entirely empty either.

But then his heart started pounding for another reason.

The prettiest sight he had ever seen. Bright eyes, shiny hair, soft, plump lips, long eye lashes, and a little weight he could hold onto.

"Hi, welcome to McDonalds, my name is Y/N, what can I get started for you?"

König swallowed sharply, your voice was music to his ears. A sweet melody he would never get sick of. A heavy blush crawled up his neck and face as his eyes dilated.

"U-uh, I need, uh.. Scheise.. Uh Big macs? And uh.. Chicken nuggets."

You nodded, refusing to break eye contact. This hulk of a man was checking all the boxes, even ones you didn't even know you had. Your eyes looked dark with how big your pupils were, attempting to flood your field of vision with this man.

"Ok, what size for those? And is that a Ten or Twenty Piece?"

König swallowed again, his throat impossibly hoarse. "Large. uh.. Twenty please"

"Perfect, and the drinks?" You eyed him through your lashes. You wanted to climb him like a tree for sure, but you also just wanted to lie on him like a mattress and soak in his scent. Gun powder, smoke, and sweet sweet Pine. It was heavenly.

"Just S-Sprites and a Coke.." It was taking so much out of him to talk to you, but he wanted to keep going. If he didn’t, surely the TF141 would laugh at him. Again.

"Alrighty, your total is going to be.. $53.28, Is that going to be for here or to-go?"

You smacked yourself mentally, of course it was to-go, There was literally no one else decked out in military gear there.

"To-go," He watched, almost amused as you flushed in obvious embarrassment.

"Right, of course yeah.." You looked at him again, very intimidated by his gaze, "What's your.. name?"

This broke the intense concentration he had just developed. His name. Why did you want to know his name? Did you want him too? No, there's no way. But then why? What was his name? His name.. oh yeah,

"König."

"Oh, ok.. Is that spelled K-o-n-i-g?"

He gave a curt nod and paid in cash, gingerly brushing against your small hand. The contact did not go unnoticed by you. You shivered a bit and counted out the money hurriedly, hands shaking and face red. You ripped the receipt from the machine and wrote something on it before speaking.

"I-I'll call you when it's ready! Here's your change," You placed the bills in his palm with the receipt and dropped the coins in after, reveling in the warmth of his hand for a second before pulling back and getting the drink cups for him.

"Here are your cups and carrier, I doubled it for you so they won’t fall out."

You were so considerate and sweet. He reveled in your presence, waiting patiently at a booth across from the counter, knee bouncing and hands fiddling with his gloves and Velcro.

After a few minutes of waiting and watching you intently, you called for him,

"König? Your order is ready," You stepped out from behind the counter and approached him. He quickly stood, taking one step to meet your three before offering him the bags.

"Would you like help taking it out? To the car I mean.." You bashfully gnawed on your lip and gazed up at him. He nodded, but truthfully he could have easily carried it all without your help, he just wanted more time with you before he had to leave.

You passed him the last bag and he turned to face you again, gaze intense and completely silent.

"Oh, I have something for you," You reached into your back pocket and pulled out what looked like a small controller with random buttons on it. "It's a fidget toy, I use it when I get anxious too, but you seem like you could use it a bit more.."

He swallowed hard, trying to pass the lump in his throat as he took in every detail of your face.

"Thank you.. Wunderschöne Augen (Gorgeous Eyes).." He muttered the compliment under his mask, eyes shining in awe as dusk hit your bright irises.

"What?" You didn't understand what he said, but the way his eyes were softening and the way his shoulders were relaxing clued you in that it was probably a compliment.

"U-uh.. Your eyes.. They're beautiful.." He averted his gaze. You blushed, averting your gaze as well, muttering a small thank you before you heard yelling from inside.

"Ugh.. Bitch.. Sorry, I have to go.. Duty calls.. haha.."

You waved goodbye and started walking away, "Oh and I left you a little present on your receipt!" Your brazen attempt at flirting caused you to panic internally the rest of your shift.

On the way home, it wasn't any better, you were itching to pick up your phone and see if he had texted you, but you refused on account of your parents dying in a car accident because of texting and driving.

So when you got home you waited, and waited.

But Konig was freaking out so hard. The second he saw you had left your phone number and a little "Call me at 11!" he panicked, speeding back to base where he sat with TF141 barely touching his food as he held the receipt with shaky hands.

Soap, who was sitting next to him, nudged him with his elbow, "What's wrong big fella? Not hungry? Whatchya got there?" he looks at the receipt, eyes widening and a grin spreading across his cheeks, "Oh boy! König here got a girls number!"

König snapped to look at him, eyes dizzy in complete shock, "Gott... was soll ich tun..? (God, what should I do?)"

Gaz spoke up, "Call her you big oaf! she's probably waitin' for ya!"

"But.. It is not 2300 hours.. That is when she said.. to.. to.."

To everyone's surprise Ghost spoke up, "Then eat. Call her at 2300."

Soap patted him on the back, "Lad, I know yer nervous, but listen to Ghostie over 'ere. Give er' a call."

He nodded silently, scarfing down his food before leaving for his room. He anxiously waited until 2300, each minute feeling like agony as he sat there, cell phone in hand, contact pulled up, hovering over the call button.

She sat on her bed, waiting for his call, but at about 10: 50 she decided to give up and rolled over to sleep, her phone next to head. She was so disappointed..

After what felt like forever, she groaned and checked her phone. 10:59. Then 11:00.

Her phone buzzed in her hand, an unknown caller. No way..

Hands shaking, König held the phone up to his ear,

'Hello? König is.. that you..?'

He sucked in a breath at your voice, "Ja, It's me.. How are you..?"

"Mm a bit tired.. but I don't mind staying up to talk to you, I don't have anywhere to be tomorrow.."

He huffed at the sound of your voice, it was angelic. "Ja? what if.. what if we.. go out?"

You gnawed at your lower lip, "I'd like that.. Where would we go?"

"You could.. You could come on base? I'll show you around Liebe.."

"Ok, when should I be there? Wait, what's the whole process of me coming onto base..?"

His chuckle rang out in your ears. He felt oddly confident with you, like there wasn't a worry in the world. He explained about the visitor passes and how this week was friends and family week so it should be very straight forward.

'Ok, I’ll be there at 8 am then? or wait.. 0800 hours? Did I say it right..?'

He chuckled again, "Ja Liebe.. Good job.. Get some rest,"

You told him goodnight and hung up the phone, squealing into your pillow. How could you sleep when you were going to see him?

The very next morning you woke up at around 5 am, you took extra time showering, making sure to use every single product you had, brushed your teeth 2 times, and washed your face 3 times before putting your hair in a hair curler and sitting to do your makeup.

Over an hour later of fucking up eyeliner, restarting twice and stabbing yourself in the eye with mascara, you finally pulled your hair from the curler, pulled on a frilly pink dress, and some chunky white heels with frilly white socks.

You also accessorized with little flowers wherever you could and headed out the door to Base, which was luckily a few minutes away.

Upon reaching the gate the guard eyed you up and down, "Who are you here for, pretty girl?"

"Um.. König?" His gaze made you uncomfortable as he barked out a laugh.

"What’s so funny, Private?"

His voice was obviously chilling but you couldn't help being excited to see him.

You hugged tight around his waist, your head resting just under his chest. He flushed, patting your head as he glared at the man in the booth, silently demanding all inclusive passes for everything.

"Liebe, come with me.. I have much to show you.."

He offered you his hand, bringing out a bouquet of flowers from behind his back. You eagerly wrapped around his arm and nuzzled into his side, taking the flowers.

"Oh thank you König, they're beautiful..!"

"Anything for you Liebe.." You looked up to meet his intense gaze, blushing as you watched his eyes darken and soften. He was so freaking.. Ugh!

The very first thing he did was show off his quarters. His bed was massive of course, you assumed far larger than any other available bed. Squealing, you belly flopped onto the bed.

"Your bed is so big! and it smells just like you" You buried your face into the blankets, taking in every ounce of him as you could, until you felt weight on either side of your head.

"Ja? You like it?" You flipped onto your back to face him, quickly locking eyes with him. His gaze made you blush but you enjoyed his presence.

"Oh my god wait can you please do something for me? I know this is gonna sound weird.." You fiddled with the part of his mask that was draping over your chest, "Could you lay on top of me? just full on crush me,"

His expression immediately changed to bewilderment before chuckling, "I'll suffocate you Lamm (Lamb).. But alright.."

Konig eased down onto you, putting the full weight of his torso down on your small frame. You had bent and spread your knees so he would fit snugly on top of you and you let out weary breath,

"Oh my god this is perfect.. Just stay here for a sec.." Your breathing was labored and he could feel your heart pounding in your chest.

"You sure Liebe? You sound like you cant breath,"

"No no, I'm good...this feels amazing.." The weight literally made you decompress as you settled into the bed, gently scratching his back with your newly manicured nails. He groaned softly into your chest, resting his face between them. You both laid there for what seemed like forever but was actually 15 minutes before he raised himself on his elbows.

"We should go now Lamm, there are many things to do today," You nodded, dazed, breathless, and completely flushed. The sight nearly made him pass out as you panted below him. He raised you to your feet and walked you down to the Cantina where you both got breakfast and he led you to the table with TF141 You were directly behind König as he approached the table. Soap greeted him first,

"Oi Lad! Did you end up callin’ the lass last night?"

"Ja, She's here today."

Gaz whistled, "Well where is she? don't tell me ya scared her off already."

König looked to his left and right frantically before you spoke up meekly, "Here.." You stepped out from behind König, his hulking figure incomprehensible to yours. You shifted uncomfortable under the gobsmacked gaze of TF141 before König helped you into your seat and sat beside you.

"Lad, you're gonna split 'er in half- Oi!" Ghost elbowed Soap, sharply glaring at him. "ahem.. I meant, what's yer name Lass?"

You told them, completely anxious. They were all so intimidating, and not the same way König was. König was hot and intimidating, these men were straight up scary.

"Don't be shy little lady! We ain't gonna bite! Well I mean the mountain here might but still!" Gaz's words brought little comfort but the idea of König biting you was a nice distraction.

"Lass sie in Ruhe! (Leave her alone) Christ you lot are making her anxious! Bastarde..." Konig placed a comforting hand on your thigh and you scooted closer to him to whisper in his ear, which he had to lean down for you to do.

He flushed and sat straight up, shoving food under his mask and choking on it slightly.

'I wouldn't mind if you bite..'

The boys all cackled, completely unaware of what you had said. The breakfast went well, but you eventually broke away from the group to spend the day with Konig. He pampered you endlessly, buying you anything you touched, doing everything you wanted to do just as excited as you were about it, but only because he was doing it with you.

While mini golfing, because why not, he stepped away to use the bathroom. You did a couple of practice shots while waiting for him until you felt a presence behind you.

"Hey pretty girl, who are you here for?"

"He's in the bathroom." You didn't even meet his gaze. It didn't matter, König was gonna be there any second anyway.

"Hey.. Look at me when I'm talking to you," He grabbed your shoulder, digging his fingers into the skin. It hurt. The atmosphere changed suddenly, a threatening aura quickly approaching. But it didn't matter.

Because you swiftly turned to face the man grabbing you and crunched the chunky heel of your shoe into his crotch. There was a sickening crutch, a pathetic squeal and the area went quiet with the collective wince of any man in the immediate area.

"Don't touch me," You nonchalantly returned to practicing your putt as Konig warily approached.

"Gott lamm.. he's never having kids.." You looked up at him for a second.

"I told him I was here with someone else and he grabbed me. Not my fault."

He chortled and patted your hair. You whined that he was gonna mess it up but you could see the smirk in his eyes.

"I'd rather ruin it another way.."

You challenged him, "I'd rather you ruin my makeup, but I suppose that could work too,"

He faltered, Clearly a bright red under the mask before he gently grabbed your hand. You met his gaze again and smiled softly, nodding before he dragged you away from the game,

"König-! I can't keep up-! Eek!" He stopped before throwing you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing, holding down your skirt as he sprinted to his room.

König slammed the door behind the two of you and threw you onto the bed. You squealed with laughter as you bounced, nervously sucking in a breath as he started gently taking off your socks and shoes, placing a kiss on the top of your foot and along your shin until he reached the skirt of your dress.

"Mein Gott... I want to worship every inch of you Mein Liebe.. You're so perfect.."

You stood and turned around so he could unzip your dress, a pure white lacy bra and thong with little pink bows underneath. He groaned under his breath before reaching for his mask. He hesitated for a second before ripping off the mask. His hair was thick but short, a very shiny black. a scar made its way from his chin across his lips and to the opposite side of his nose.

He was so fucking hot.

And he was also beet red, waiting for your reaction, but you just jumped, pressing a kiss to his lips and giggled. You cupped his face, eyes dizzy and lips upturned in a small smile

"You're so handsome, why hide it?" He groaned, sinking to your lips where he kissed you as deeply as he could.

"Mein Liebe.. Ich werde dich zu meiner Frau machen... (Im going to make you my wife..)"

You whined into his kiss, tugging at his shirt, "Off.. please.."

"Patience Lamm... let me pamper you.." He gingerly rubbed a finger against your sloppy folds and groaned "Scheiße.. You're so wet already.." You whined, tightly gripping his shoulders as you met his gaze.

He sunk a finger into you, watching intently as you threw your head back and moaned loudly. His finger was so big and so thick, it was almost as big as your two fingers alone; and then he added a second.

"Ah-! König.." you arched your back into him, feeling your gummy cunt squeeze around his fingers. He groaned into your neck.

"Das ist... Good Girl.. cum on my fingers mein Liebe..." He bit softly into your neck, causing you to seize up and cum on his fingers, squirting into his palm. You'd never been able to cum before but he had barely touched you and here you were, shaking under him with your slick pooling on his blankets.

"König.." you whimpered, watching his gaze darken as he lapped his fingers clean of your mess before he shifted onto the floor, slinging your legs over his shoulders, pushing your underwear to the side and lapping at you like a starved man.

It had all happened so fast and so slow at the same time that you didn't have time to protest or react. But god did it feel good..

He groaned against your clit as you gripped his hair and squeezed his head tightly with your thighs. they were so thick and soft, he had gotten so used to firmness muscles and callous skin. It was incredible.

All you could do was arch into him, on the verge of another orgasm so quickly until he pulled away. You wanted to protest but watched as he stripped off his shirt, moaning at the sight of his broad chest, thick shoulders, and soft abs.

König hurriedly unbuckled his pants, the sound of it alone causing your heart to pound faster, then watched as his dick sprang from the confines of his pants, painfully hard. And scarily big.

"Oh my god.." It was almost a horrified whisper if you weren't so mesmerized by the sight of the throbbing vein along the base and the angry red of his tip.

You finally unclipped your bra and threw it to the side as he ripped off your underwear, angry red lines marking your skin. He trailed kisses up your soft, fatty stomach. He loved it so much, how soft and doughy you were underneath him, sucking every inch of skin he could into his mouth as you moaned and writhed underneath him

"Pleasee.. No more teasing..."

"Mein Liebe.. I must mark every inch of your skin.. how else will others know who you belong too?"

You hid your face with your arm in embarrassment and whined as he sucked a nipple into his mouth, pinching the other one,

"Don't say it like that.."

He groaned as he rubbed the head of his cock along her wet slit, sinking in the head and moaning.

"Scheiße.. You're so hot Lamm... and so wet..Scheiße"

"K-König-! It's..too big-!" You whined, clawing at his back as he slowly sunk into you, each delicious inch stretching you impossibly wide.

König moaned as he sunk to the hilt, reveling in your tight, gummy cunt before he slowly pulled out and thrusted back in.

"Mein Gott Lamm.. So fucking tight...Scheiße!"

You moaned as he repeatedly sunk into you, picking up the pace until he groaned loudly, roughly grabbed your thigh and slung it over his shoulder, pounding at your hole at a brutal pace, likely bruising your cervix.

It felt so good and so overwhelming as a white heat bubbled in your core at each pass he made against your sensitive walls. He growled, biting into your neck and shoulder, lathering the harsh marks with his tongue as you took his cock so greedily.

"Das a good girl.. Look at you, you keep sucking me back in.. Gott.. Cum for me Lamm.."

She whimpered, just on the precipice of the most intense orgasm of her life, clawing at his back for purchase, begging for relief.

Tears flooded from her eyes as they rolled into her head as she came on his cock, squeezing around him tightly and moaning his name loudly, "König-!"

her vision was flooded with white, her orgasm prolonged as he continued to pound into her until he spilled his seed deep into her cunt. He groaned softly as he pulled out, listening to the hurried footsteps just outside the door. Whoever was listening, definitely wasn't anymore.

König chuckled against your cheek, "They heard you mein Liebe.. heard you taking my cock and my seed like such a Braves Mädchen..(Good girl)"

You flushed a bright red and buried your face into his shoulder, legs trembling around him, "König..! that's so embarrassing.."

"What my little Lamm? Want to be quiet as I fuck you? Why don't you bury your face in the pillows then hmm?"

He flipped you onto your stomach, pulling you to your knees as he tutted at you,

"Look at this waste..." He swiped the oozing cream pie up with his fingers and stuffed it back in. You whimpered as his calloused fingers rubbed your sensitive folds as he fingered his cum back into you.

"Das a good little slag.. taking my cum.." He grinned down at you as he slapped his cock on your clit, relishing in the yelps and whimpers you tried to hide.

"Beg for it Mein Liebe.. Beg for my cock.." He pressed soft kisses into your shoulder then bit your ear.

You muffled an embarrassed please into the pillow until he pulled you up by your hair, eliciting an insanely erotic moan as he tugged at your sensitive scalp, "Please-! Please König.. I need it-!"

"Braves Mädchen..." He stuffed his cock back into your gummy cunt, groaning as he raised up on his haunches. He pulled out until just his head was left, then he thrusted in as he pulled your hips to meet his.

He hit impossibly deep and impossible hard against your cervix. It would have hurt had the pressure not been so good. You moaned into the pillow, drool soaked into the fabric, and tears ran down your cheeks. Your makeup and hair was thoroughly ruined, but you didn't care; It was being ruined in the best way imaginable.

You came on his cock again, squirting onto his slick skin, dripping down onto the covers. He groaned at the sight.

"Look at you.. you're such a mess for me.. So slick and tight.. So perfect.. Mein Braves Mädchen... Scheiße.. I'm gonna cum.. Take it.."

You moaned loudly into the pillow, relishing in the feeling of his seed pooling into your ruined pussy, completely drunk on his cock. Eventually, all of the sensations were too much and you passed out.

König chuckled as he slipped from you, "Mein goodness Lamm.. You've made quite the mess... Lamm? Mein Liebe? uh oh,"

He turned you on your back and pressed his ear to your chest listening to your relaxing heartbeat and shallow breaths. He noted the small smile on your face as you slept peacefully before pulling you into his arms and grabbing a different blanket to sleep in.

It had just hit dusk when he heard a knock at his door. König stood, fitting his dick back into his pants and pulling on his mask before covering you with the blanket, kissing your head and opening the door.

"What?" He was obviously irritated, but it simmered when he realized it was Soap.

Soap glanced past König and smirked, "Good god is she dead?"

König rolled his eyes and blushed, "No, just passed out, What do you want Soap?"

"LT has a mission for us. We're gonna be deployed next week, I figured you'd want to tell your lass before then."

König's eyes saddened as he looked back. He had only gotten to spend a day with you and he literally didn't want to spend a second away from you. Now he had to leave?

He offered Soap a curt nod before slamming the door in his face and striding back over to you. you had turned to face the door, eyes slightly open and a tired frown on your face.

"You're being deployed?"

"Ja.. I'm so sorry Mein Liebe.. " he brushed the hair from your face and kissed away the tears of streaky mascara.

"I promise I'll come back safe.. Keine Sorge (Do not worry)"

As you moved to sit up you winced at the ache in your legs and arms. He scooped you into his arms as you wrapped around him like a koala.

"Please tell me you're not leaving to get away from me.." The worried cries that escaped your anxious mind stabbed him in the heart. It hurt so much.

"Oh Mein Liebe.. I would never.. This is killing me.. Nein.. Id never.."

You pulled away, peeling up the mask over his nose and kissed him,

"I'll write to you every day you're gone.."

"I will read them every day.. And any day I cannot write.. I will write two the next day.. So on and so forth.."

You whimpered in his arms. You weren't sure why it hurt so much, maybe he was your soulmate, because that burning pain in your heart was mirrored in his and it fucking sucked.

The few days leading up to the deployment he spent every available second talking to or pampering you. It could be gifts of food, flowers, or stuffed animals. But it was often multiple orgasms, shaky legs, and painful looking hickeys littered across your neck, shoulders, breasts, thighs and ass.

He bit into your shoulder, teeth marks angry and red. You whined as he licked away the stinging pain as he thrusted into you again and again.

"At this rate.. Mnn.. These wont fa-Aye-!de... until you're backk-!"

"That's the point mein Liebe... Scheiße.. You're so tight.."

You watched in the bathroom mirror as he tightly held your hips to his as he pounded against you brutally trying to shape you so you never forget the feeling of his cock.

The week went so fast yet so slow all at the same time. When you parted one last time you cried into his arms. You didn't want him to go, not when you were falling in love with him.

Every day seemed bleak. You wrote to him every day about all the thoughts that had crossed your mind. You had sent him various and frequent care packages. It was almost scary how you knew exactly what he needed.

He had a hard time falling asleep? You sent him a weighted dinosaur covered in your perfume and a bottle of the same kind in case the smell faded. You also sent him drowsy tea and so many baked treats.

His feet and knees were killing him? you sent him memory foam gel inserts, somehow in his exact size and Icy Hot to help with the pain- and of course more treats.

You baked so much in your spare time because of how lonely you were. It hurt to be without him, and you feared every day that he was hurt or dead.

Months of letters back and forth. Your friends kept urging you to just sleep with someone, so you cut them off to find better friends. They didn't know him, they didn't get to call him a weirdo.

Oftentimes at work you would get berated, and since you were more stressed out, you often snapped back. This sometimes worked better than that good old fashioned customer service attitude.

"You don't get to yell at me because you forgot to order a shake. I put your food on the warmer so it won't get cold, it'll be ready in a minute and a half. Have some patience."

Your face was stern but not mean. This often got you more tips. And phone numbers?

Why the hell did creepy old men think it was ok to hit on a girl half their age? And why did they find you yelling at them arousing?!

Every day at work got harder until finally, FINALLY, you were accepted into a paid internship through your university and you made far more in a field you were studying to be in. It was honestly your dream job but there was one big problem.

Joshua.

He was a good worker, always got work in on time, but oh my god was he a pervert. He had already slept with half the women in the office, but for some reason he really wanted to get with you. And the worst part was he was your boss.

"I'm not interested sir, please keep this professional."

"Oh come on sweetheart, what's wrong with a little messing around?"

"Well for one-" He always interrupted you, it really pissed you off.

"I'll give you a 50% raise if you sleep with me,"

"You literally can't, and-"

"I'll work my magic sweetheart!"

"Stop Calling me that! I am not sleeping with you Josh! Fuck Off!"

You had stormed back to your cubicle and not much later had gotten an email from HR about disorderly conduct. and who sent in the complaint?

It wasn't Josh, It was fucking Debbie.

She may have been worse than Josh, because she slept her way up the ranks and was his current play toy. The reason she complained?

Fraternizing.

What. The. Fuck.

You had been there for Six months and never once spoke out against anyone, and the one time you did because you were still being sexually harassed, someone tattles on you for yelling? Hell No.

That day when you got home, you cried. And you cried hard. You loved your job so much, but the work environment was so toxic, you didn't know what to do and you missed König so much it hurt and-

Your phone started ringing. König was calling.

"H-Hello?" You sniffed, raising the alarms.

"Mein Liebe? What is wrong my sweet? Who made you cry?"

"I-It's nothing I'll tell you later, please, just tell me you're coming home soon.. I miss you so much.."

He huffed, "Soon my love. The mission was successful. That human trafficking ring was completely demolished. I'll be home in a month."

"Oh my gosh-! a month?! That's so soon! What date exactly, I'm writing it down on my calendar."

König chuckled as he heard your feet run across the house. He told you the date and excitedly wrote it down.

"Now Mein Liebe, tell me. Who. Made. You. Cry? "

The crushing weight of anxiety and stress pressed down so hard you just sobbed and sobbed. You told him about the harassment, how you loved your job but wanted to leave because of some jerk, how everyone was great except for like two people and then you told him who it was.

"And if Josh could just fucking leave me alone I wouldn't have a meeting with HR because Debbie doesn't like the idea of her douche bag getting with someone else!"

"What did you say his last name was again?"

"uh Davidson.. why?"

He chuckled again, "No reason my love.. I'm running out of time on this call, Ich Liebe dich."

"I love you too König, I’ll write to you tomorrow ok?"

"Do not fret Liebling, It will all be taken care of."

You had no idea what he meant, but you smiled and hung up the phone. You had always felt so much better after talking to him or reading his letters.

Which is why you wanted to do something extra special for him, especially since you had been dating for nearly two years at this point.

So that weekend you scheduled with a photographer friend of yours a sexy photo shoot where you posed in all different kinds of underwear and suggestive poses. You both giggled as you wrapped up the pictures in a little scrap book and added it into his next care package, with a little note to open it when he was alone.

Apparently, the note had slipped from its place on the cover and when he opened the box, normally to share the snacks you send with TF141, he opened the book with a crowd gathered over his shoulder before quickly slamming it shut.

He stammered, he couldn't even get a word out as even Ghost patted him on the shoulder, hooting and hollering with laughter at his embarrassment.

"Good on ya Lad! That Lass really loves ya!" Soap patted him on the back extra hard, causing the book to fall from his hands and flip to a random page where you were clearly seen clad in black lacy lingerie and one of his spare masks on.

He scrambled to pick it up ready to explode as the laughter got even louder, the group hunched over, relishing in his misery. In his heart he knew it was all good fun and he'd be able to laugh about it later but right now he wanted to melt into a puddle and die.

When he was alone, he made good use of the pictures, fisting his cock as if it were your tight pussy wrapped around him. There were a plethora of pictures to choose from, but you with his mask on just did it for him; especially with that look in your eye, like you were ready to be bred.

He came in his palm, quick to wipe it away with a tissue as he continued to admire your shy yet confident face, pupils blown wide, cheeks a healthy glowing red and your skin flushed pink. He noticed that your skin was healed from his marks, which he would have to change as soon as he got home tomorrow.

Konig was coming home early with a surprise- and to handle your problem.

The next day had definitely started hellish. You spilled your coffee on your blouse so you had to go into work with just the tank top and suit jacket, which of course was perfect for prying eyes, no matter how hard you hid your cleavage.

The meeting with HR went ok, especially since you brought up the sexual harassment, which led to an investigation on Josh, but you were sure it was going to lead no where (as usual).

And then you went to lunch. Which for some reason, Josh saw as an invitation to sit down with you. He had talked so much that you had drowned out everything, completely unaware of your surroundings. Except for when he grabbed your hand. You yanked it away, ready to yell at him but he stopped everything.

He wasn't even looking at you. He was looking behind you, completely terrified. And then you felt that familiar hand on your shoulder.

"Is this the guy you told me about Mein Liebe?"

You whipped around and stood to hug him, crying happy tears, even as his tactical vest dug uncomfortably in your skin.

He hugged you tightly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he glared down at the small man. He chuckled, shifting to a lighter tone.

"I've missed you too, Liebling. Give me one second.."

He stood up fully, turning his attention to Josh. He grit his teeth.

"Ah, you must be the man Mein Liebe was talking about, haha! Boy did she talk about you. Ahh.. Yeah if you ever make a comment about my wife or to my wife again, I will kill you." Josh chuckled nervously and König cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry, that sounded like a joke, I will actually, Fucking Kill you."

The cafeteria was silent and you smirked at Josh pissing his pants.

"Now, my Liebe, where were we? Ah yes."

You watched, tears welling in your eyes as he knelt before you and pulled a small box from his pocket. You laughed and cried and covered your mouth and cried, nodding your head.

"I haven't even asked yet Liebling.. ahem.." his gaze flicked around the room at the cameras but he ignored them, right now he needed to be with you.

"Mein Liebe.. being away from you.. for.. so fucking long.. has been insufferable... Ich liebe dich so much.. I need you to be my wife.. so badly.. so desperately.. I need your comfort, and your touch and your love more than I need oxygen. Please, marry me?"

You jumped and wrapped around him so tightly, crying and nodding yes. It would have been pathetic if it wasn't so sweet.

"There is not a doubt in my mind that I want to be married to you."

He gently took your hand, slipping the ring on your finger and kissed your hand. Afterwards he bought you flowers, your favorite of course, and took you to lunch for the remainder of your break, and then he remained guarding your cubicle. Which was good as Josh approached several times but turned away the second König gave him a glare.

This repeated for the remainder of your work day until he drove you home where he continued to service you, right on the wall by the front door.

Your skirt was bunched up around your hips, sitting on his shoulders as he lapped at your clit like a starved man, not even bothering to take off the mask all the way, but pushing it above his nose.

His fingers pumped into you as you gripped at the top of his head, head thrown back as you rutted against his face, desperate for a release.

You quickly squirted in his mouth, but he kept going until you were sobbing that it was too much, which was only after another two orgasms.

"I can't help it mein Liebe.. You look so fucking Wunderschön with my ring.. Gott I'm lucky.."

He threw you over his shoulder like a sack of flour and brought you to the bedroom. His cock was painfully hard, but he didn't care. He needed to replace all of the healed marks on your skin.

König ripped off your tank top and bra, quickly discarding the mask entirely as he bit into your shoulder, making his way up your neck with rough sucks and even rougher bites until he had made his way across your collarbone.

All you could do was moan at the pain of his teeth and the pleasure of his tongue as he moved his attention to your breasts, trailing his treatment back in between your legs where he ripped off the remainder of your clothes.

He lapped up your arousal once before making his way over you and pulling his cock out of his pants. The head was drooling with cum as he continued to kiss your body, worshiping every freckle, mole, and stretch mark until he met your lips and sunk all the way to the hilt.

He groaned at the feeling of your gummy walls squeezing him tightly.

"This is so much better than my hand Liebling... Scheiße.... So beautiful wrapped around me like this.. Gott.."

"Königg.. That's embarrassing..." you whined as he pulled out and sunk back in, head thrown back as tears flooded from your eyes.

His pace was ruthless as he rutted into you desperately, fucking his cum into you every time he finished. He refused to let up, his pent up arousal was too much, even as he had you on your side, leg thrown over his shoulder, squeezing your ass and tracing the bulge in your stomach every time he filled you with his meaty cock.

Fat tears kept rolling down your cheeks as you felt that impossibly good pressure on your cervix each time he kissed it with the head of his dick, knowing it would be bruised for at least two weeks.

Your lips parted in a silent scream, drool slipping onto the pillow as you came on his cock again, the bed sheets long since ruined. He groaned as he spurted thick ropes of hot cum into you again, pressed as deep into you as he could before collapsing into your chest, kissing the valley between them sweetly.

"You're going to be so Wunderschön pregnant with my babe mein liebe.. Gott.. So Wunderschön.."

"I love you König.." you weaved your fingers through his hair, gently scratching his scalp as he sighed contently, wrapping his arms around your waist.

"Ich Liebe Dich, mein Lamm.."

Two weeks later, while he was at work you had taken a pregnancy test. Pregnant.

No one was shocked, to be honest. But everyone was definitely happy.

#cod konig #smut #konig x reader #konig smut #bde #big tiddy committee #strangers to lovers

478 notes · View notes

felibrary · 4 months ago

Text

╭──╯PAIRING: aventurine x fem!reader

CHAPTER SYNOPSIS: Out of everyone this could’ve happened to, of course, it struck you. As a barista, you meet new customers every day but a fateful encounter with a stupid(ly handsome) stranger, turns into two and three and to the point of no return, and somewhere along the way catching yourself faltering for his persistent charms annoyance.

WORDCOUNT: 4.2k

CONTENT & GENERAL WARNINGS: fem!reader, barista!reader, cursing, light angst if you squint, fluff, march is the n1 shipper, vague mentions of ratio, banter and bickering (more from readers side), no beta-read we die like baiheng

AUTHOR'S NOTE: the last chapter was posted like 2 weeks ago? i think not sure. sorry guys i just had no motivation in the previous few weeks at all 😭😭 but here it is, enjoy! also just cause this took super long to write doesn't equal it being super good 😓

ART CREDITS: none of the characters or art belong to me all art credits go to @/kkuekkue on x!

TAGLIST: @azullumi,@sunananaa, @milksnake-tea, @iceunhie, @nayukiyukihira, @jjzlisu, @raideneiari (if you want to be added to the tag list write a comment or send me an off anon ask! ^^)

PREVIOUS || MASTERLIST || NEXT

“Order for uh.” you abruptly stop your sentence. Furrowing your brow in confusion you look at the questionable name that is written on the paper cup that you’re currently holding in your hand. Your gaze drifts over to the barista behind you. “March..” you whisper through gritted teeth, trying to maintain a smile while pausing for a brief moment to study the face of the girl with the cotton candy-like hair.

The short girl hums quietly, “What is it?” she tilts her head to the side, a milk-frothing pitcher in her right hand, almost empty. “And why are we whispering?” admittedly you’re not even sure yourself, after all, people come up with silly names all the time, so why are you refraining from saying this name out loud?

“Well, I'm whispering because I don't want the other customers to listen into our conversation, but, are you sure that you wrote the right name here?” you ask the girl behind you doubtfully before directing your view towards the letters that were written in cursive and were adorned by little stars and flowers drawn by none other than March.

The '*•.¸♡𝓐𝓿𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓮 ♡¸.•*' which she wrote in cursive (and if you may add, kind of crooked) made you raise your eyebrows as you held the cup in front of her face for her to see.

She always had a habit of drawing cute smiley faces or hearts onto the cups, reasoning it by saying that it’d sweeten the customers' day. Although you’re not sure if that’s really necessary, their day probably already gets sweetened enough from the amount of sugar and sweetener March puts into the drinks.

She huffs, feigning hurt and acting offended by your question “If you want to suspect someone, blame her!” March’s eyes drift over to the silver-haired girl who is currently sitting next to the trash can near the staff rooms, playing video games and thus blocking the way: Stelle.

The girl in question quickly lifts her head and just smiles sheepishly as if not knowing what’s going on right now. “She’s the one who gave me the receipts and told me the names before you took over, I just added the condiments and started creating cute latte art!.” you sigh at that. Well, whoever gave Stelle their name will probably be able to recognize it sooner or later anyway.

The worst case scenario that could probably happen is the customer putting their hands on the counter and starting to scream and yell at you to the point where their spit lands in your eyes. Urging to talk to your manager: Pompom. If the customer would see them the customer would probably start scolding you for bringing out the mascot instead of the manager, leaving the shop and giving you zero stars on Maps. (definitely not talking from any former experiences.) Yeah, hopefully, that won’t happen.

You let out a throaty cough before loudly shouting once again “Order for Aventurine!” you really wonder whose mom named their kid after a quartzite stone now — hell, if you let your guard down, the next person who you’d have to call up is someone named Ashleigh or Jonaslian.

What’s up with women who are only maybe one or two decades older than, and their obsession with horrible baby names?

“Hellooo” the o of the greeting gets dragged out by the owner of the sing-song voice. “Earth to the cashier.” The next thing you know is a hand that is covered in a black leather glove, waving at your face, moving in a repetitive up-and-down motion. The gesture makes you snap out of the haze which you were in, and slightly shake your head, before looking up at the customer and getting a good glance at them.

In front of you stood possibly the hottest man you’ve ever seen. Blond silky hair and was dressed in a crisp black waistcoat that was draped around his slim torso, wearing a turquoise button-up underneath it that was adorned with gold decorations around his collar. His tie that matched his waistcoat was adjusted perfectly so that it sat in the right place. Black leather gloves envelop his slender fingers.

The last time you were enamored by someone was when you were 9 reaching 10, and seeing Asami Sato bumping into Mako with her motorcycle on TV for the first time made you fall head over heels in love with her. That woman had younger you in a chokehold.

You feel your body tensing and heating up slightly. Fuck, has it always been this warm here? Your eyes sway over to the air conditioner behind you. No, that can't possibly be it, you made sure that the A/C was on the highest level before opening the cafe.

The blond in front of you raises his eyebrow and looks at you expectantly, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as his eyes shift over your face as if studying your expression. There’s amusement that settles onto his face — smugness would be the best word to describe it.

Shit, there was no way he found out that you were fawning over him.

“Take a picture. It lasts longer sweetheart.” he shoots you a small wink and you’re not sure whether to feel impressed or horrified at the fact that he was able to read you as easily as an open book where the most important words are already highlighted in a bold colour.

So you remain silent — speechless, to be precise. There’s a familiar feeling bubbling up in your chest, one that makes you all giddy and nervous. How can someone whom you never met enarmour you so much? It’s weird, but it’s weirder that it feels all too familiar. Suspicion arises within you.

“Hmm?” Aventurine — or whatever his name may be, tilts his head to the side, a questioning and innocent expression manifesting on his face that it almost makes him look like a young boy who still has to grasp the concepts of the many fundamentals of the world.

“Spacing out already? Am I that handsome?” Yeah, keyword: almost.

It takes a second to compose yourself again before speaking up again. “Yeah.” Your eyes form into crescent moons as you give him a small faux smile (how March likes to call it: your customer service smile) before your face contorts into an expression of unpleasantness “No, in your dreams Mister. Also please hurry up, you’re holding up the line.” You point behind him and he angles his head backwards to see..no one?

“There’s no one there.” This time it’s him who looks unimpressed, a deadpan expression gracing over his features and you do have to admit that he looks kind of cute with that expression. Oh god, what were you thinking? “You know you’ll have to do better than try to tri-”

Before he can even finish his sentence you quickly cut him off. “With cash or with card?” Your customer service smile from before finds its way onto your face once more. “Miss, you’re so cruel! You didn’t even let me fini-” “I repeat. With cash or with card?”

Your patience was running thin. Lucky for him he’s somewhat respectful and cute while bothering you and not going on your nerves. If he were some weirdo, you would’ve scurried away already. People like him (unfortunately) remind you that pretty privilege does exist.

His gloved hand dives into the depths of the pockets of his slacks before pulling out a leather wallet and revealing a black card. Oh great, a rich guy. “With card.” he sighs dramatically. Do all rich people behave like this? “Sir, this is a café not an acting audition for some teenage romance drama.” You’re not sure what to think of this guy, on one hand, his attempts are cute on the other it’s kind of weird that he’s flirting with a cashier whom he met 5 minutes ago. “Just.” You hesitate before speaking up again. “Just type your PIN in here and you’re done.” He nods and continues to do so which the small sound the machine makes confirms.

At that, you give him a small nod as a gesture of thankfulness, before attempting to kick him out again. “Great, thank you. Now please go and I wish you a good day.”

“But how am I supposed to have a good day without yo-”

“You’ll live.” you wave him goodbye and that leaves him with no other choice but to step back and leave.

Maybe you’re hallucinating and maybe you’re just imagining it but before he leaves he gives you a small smile. The soft and charming glow that emanates from his eyes resonates well with the dusking sun as if they were reflecting the last golden rays of sunshine before they were to be engulfed by the warm hues of the sky and later on painted black like the night. An inexplicable feeling rises in your chest as he bids you goodbye, wishing you a nice day.

“Oh he so has a massive crush on you.” you shudder upon hearing March’s voice. Her words ring in your ears like Christmas bells chiming during the holiday season. Loud and obnoxious. You try to drain the thoughts away but how can you when the source who started it all is right behind you? Continuously gushing about how that handsome stranger must have an enormous crush on you.

“The group chat has to know about this!” March enthusiastically squeals and quickly fishes her phone out of her pockets. Before you’re even able to realize what is bound to happen let alone prevent her from aggressively typing on her phone, she’s already sent the first message.

At that you can only bury your face into the palms of your hand, face sinking into your hands in embarrassment. As much as you love March, it sometimes feels like she’s the oldest of the group and not Mr. Yang. Not in terms of matureness and wiseness, no more like in the sense of the kind of mom who has to share each and every one of her baby’s accomplishments online, but not as bad though, of course. Still.

“I hate you,” you complain, words muffled by the palms of your hands.

“I love you too.” she quips cheerfully, a smirk on her lips.

Safe to say March was in charge of cleaning and tidying up the café for the whole shift.

“Aww the handsome guy from yesterday isn’t here today.” March coos into your ear, a frown is displayed on her lips. She frowns, but you can see the hints of playfulness that linger in her expression. “Put on such a nice show yesterday only to chicken out. Booo, lameeee.” March rolls her eyes in amusement, giggling while doing so.

Although you didn’t want to agree with what March had to say, she’s somewhat right. You full-heartedly believed that he’d visit again today after the move he pulled off yesterday or perhaps you wanted him to visit him again.

You quickly shook your head at that thought, brushing the idea of someone paying you a visit at work off to humor you a bit. There was absolutely no way you wanted to see him again.

“It’s early in the morning and you’re trying to shake the dandruff out of your hair already?” “Not funny Mar-” There was no fucking way.

If this wasn’t a deja vu, you don’t know either. It’s almost as if the interaction of yesterday was replaying right in front of your eyes and once again catching you off guard.

“You know it’s not polite to blatantly stare at people right?” he spoke with a chuckle as he observed your irritated face. “Frowning like that will make you gain wrinkles.” The twitching on your right eye doesn’t go unnoticed by him and he can only chuckle at that, seemingly amused by your morning misery.

“What are you doing here.” you can only mutter a single question out, dumbfounded by him appearing in front of you once again. “Hm, am I not allowed to come by? I mean, everything’s quite affordable in here and this place isn’t far away from my workplace either sooo.”

Well, you can’t judge him for that. “Then, what do you want?” with a sigh you pluck one of the sticky notes of the block of colorful sticky notes, ready to write his order and name down. “Someone’s in a bad mood.” he chirps. A blank stare is the only thing you provide him as an answer and at that, he can only chuckle, it’s obvious that he’s enjoying this. “An Iced Americano would be nice. Thanks.”

“Mhmm, noted.” you quickly scribbled his order down onto the quadratic paper before shouting March’s name over your shoulder. “Can you come here to keep our dear customer company? I’ll prepare his drink in the meantime.” you shoot Aventurine a heavy side-eye before darting your gaze back to March. The girl only giggles in response before happily skipping over to the counter.

“Aww, do you want to extra prepare my drink?” upon hearing his remark you turn around. Meeting a pair of pink eyes which were covered behind long blond lashes, scanning your figure from a close distance.

Nervosity crawls at your skin as you feel yourself getting watched by him. It’s weird — screw that, he’s weird.

“Close!” a giggle accompanies your words. “Actually, I just really wanna get away from you. Have fun with him March.” scoffing, you turn around again.

It didn’t take you long to prepare his order, filling a cup with ice cubes and pouring some shots of espresso over them was a piece of cake. “Here” You hand him his drink and he nods in contentment before handing you a few coins, a cheeky grin appears on his face and you can see the amusement glimmering in his pink eyes. “See you tomorrow” he chuckles and upon that March nudges your side, which in response you can only give her an exasperated groan.

“Yep. Head over heels in love.” she quips as soon as Aventurine is out of sight, and you have to fight the urge to slam your forehead against the counter.

Your third encounter with Aventurine occurred on a fairly rainy day. With sluggish movements and wet clothes, soaked from head to toe he slumped over to the counter and grinning as soon as he saw you.

“Hey.” it takes you a moment to process the situation and reluctantly you reply. “Hey.” Your eyes scan over his figure, his white dress shirt is completely translucent now and you can’t help but let your eyes drift to the tattoo on his neck, down to his collarbone which is visibly poking out, and his slim waist, ribs only covered by a thin layer of pale skin.

Aventurine seems to catch on pretty quickly and wraps himself into his blazer, seemingly uncomfortable by the way you’re looking at him.

You quickly gather your words, and voice an apology. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shamelessly stare, that was rude again, I’m so sor-” “It’s fine.” Aventurine interrupts, cutting your apology curt while huffing out a tired sigh. The exasperation that resides in his voice implies that he obviously doesn’t want to dwell on this topic any further.

A meek nod is the only response you’re able to give. “Can I just get the same thing I’ve had last time? Thanks.” he pulls out his card, ready to pay for his order.

“Really? An Iced Americano during this weather?” you let out a small chuckle with which you’re trying to lighten up the tense atmosphere that built up between the two of you.

At the sound of your light laughter, Aventurine’s eyes flicker over your face. “You remember my order?” he asks dumbfounded.

“Well yeah, no one besides teenage girls order an Iced Americano.” you joke, the usual sarcasm back in your voice. It quenches his former uneasiness, your light-hearted words soothing him like a cool steam dripping into his parched heart.

The corners of his lips twitch and he can’t help but smile. “Oh, shut up.” His signature smirk graces his lips and upon catching sight of it you can’t help but also let out a fond smile.

“Will.. a freshly black brewed coffee do?” you’re careful when asking him. Nervousness crawls at your skin in anticipation.

“Black coffee?” he hums. “Yeah, that should work. Thanks.” the reassuring smile he gives you makes your tense shoulder drop in relief, easing the worry that previously swam in your stomach.

You disappear into the kitchen, searching for the container that stores the coffee beans to prepare his drink, in the meantime, Aventurine quickly types into his phone before erasing the words as fast as he wrote them.

The fresh scent of coffee beans engulfs your nose and you can’t help but smile. Freshly brewed coffee always reminds you of home; someone in whose arms you can bury yourself in, nudging your nose into their chest as they cage you with their arms, softly embracing you. The rattling of a coffee machine in the background rings in your ears, but the only thing you can focus on is a voice that softly caresses the shell of your ear.

Domesticity washes over you — it’s all too familiar.

Aventurine’s drink is prepared in no time and you set it on the counter which makes him look up from his phone, giving you a weak smile before wrapping his hand around the drink. It’s still hot to touch, the warmth spreading over his hand in an instant like wildfire, it’s nice — the feeling of warmth enveloping his cold hand is nice.

“Well, I’ll get going now.” his announcement catches you off guard, and impulsively you reach out to tug on his sleeve to prevent him from leaving. The action leaves both you and Aventurine surprised. Curious, the blond raises an eyebrow and grins (oh how much you want to wipe that stupid grin off his face), expectantly awaiting your next move.

“Sorry.” you cough apologetically before quickly letting go of his semi-dried sleeve. “But I don’t think it’s a good idea to go out again when it’s still raining. If I were you I’d just wait until the rain stops.” Upon hearing your sincere suggestion, Aventurine’s grin falters and instead slowly molds into a fond smile that makes you inexplicably warm.

“Aww, don’t tell me you're worried that I might catch a cold?” You counter his playful remark with one of your own. “Well, yeah. Who else is supposed to give me a generous tip?” At that Aventurine can only laugh and the smile you’ve been trying to hold back escapes.

“Touché.”

From there on visits from Aventurine became frequent, always coming during your shift or during your break to chatter with you about mindless topics. You got used to his visits, and even when you gave off the impression of showing no interest in his ramblings, you always lent him an ear, carefully listening to what he had to say about his pets or his grumpy friend.

(He told you that the both of you resemble each other in some way, aloof on the outside but caring on the inside. In response, you shot him a big side eye, cause what does he mean by aloof?)

The small conversations exchanged between the two of you, ranged between topics of the latest spots that have just opened, to operas and musicals and eventually work.

His work to be specific.

Curiosity got the better of you and you couldn’t help but ask: “Aventurine.” upon hearing his name sliding off your tongue, he hums in acknowledgment. “What is it?” you scan his attire, the material of his black blazer is slightly crumpled and the turquoise button-up he’s wearing underneath seems to be the same one as the one when you first met him.

“What the hell do you even work as? I mean what kind of job requires you to wear a new suit every day?” befuddlement manifests on your face. “Ah, well.” Aventurine hesitates for a moment, mouth slightly agape before closing it once again as if searching for the right words to say. “I’ve told you that I work here right down the street right? I’m a teaching assistant at St. Freya University for my friend.” he gives you a small and coy smile.

“Oh, that prestigious university for rich kids?” at that Aventurine slightly raises his eyebrows as if surprised by your remark before quietly laughing. “Mhm, I suppose you could say so.” “I should’ve known that you taught there, I bet you also went there for university.” It’s only a joking remark you made upon impulse but the amusement on Aventurine’s face slightly dissipates, replaced with a sheepish expression.

“I didn’t go to university.”

“What?”

“What do you mean you didn’t go to university? I mean as teaching a-” “I-i started working from a very early age on and not as a teaching assistant it’s only a job for me to help my friend with.” he quickly corrects himself. “Oh.” “Yeah.” he hums, looking away.

The silence is unbearable. It’s weird and unusual for you to not hear Aventurine chatter into your ear. “So uhm.. what do you teach or help with?” the embarrassment quickly rises to your cheeks and you turn your head downwards to avoid any eye contact. God, why’s initiating a conversation so hard and always fucking awkward.

“Interested in joining? Want me to sign you up?” you’re relieved upon hearing Aventurine immediately responding, lifting your head only to be met with soft pink eyes that are already earnestly admiring you.

Your deadpan expression tells him more than enough and he chuckles more to himself than to you. “Well, my friend, he has high expectations for his students. To some people, he might appear strict, but really, it’s for their own well-being — not his. He cares about his students a lot. Sharing his knowledge about certain topics and seeing the potential in all of them, for them to pick the information up and be able to use it. So the things he does in his classes differ, from practical to theoretical classes and I’m just there to assist with my knowledge.” the small smile that quirks at his lips doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“Okay, okay, well enough about me, what about you? Any plans for the weekend?” Aventurine smoothly changes the topic.

Upon being asked what your plans are your eyes immediately light up with excitement. “I’ve been meaning to visit the fair for a while now. Trying out the new rides and stuff you know?” Aventurine momentarily pauses. “Ah, I’ve actually never been to a fair.” his admission comes over as surprising to you.

“Wait what? You’ve never been to a fair? You’re lying!”

“I’m not! Or maybe I am.” he laughs. “Well, I might have gone to some but I can’t recall anything like that. Perhaps I was too short, too young, or too much of a pussy to try out one of the rides.”

Before you can even think of how to respond to that, you blurt out a: “Go with me then!” You’re not even sure how you had the courage to ask that, especially to someone whom you’ve only met a month or hell a few weeks ago, you’re even less sure where that question even came from.

From what you can read off Aventurine’s face, he seems to be as equally surprised as you, mouth slightly agape and lips forming a smile as he stares at you with expectant eyes.

“Really?” Disbelief settles onto his face.

“Thinking about it now, nope.” The light in Aventurine’s eyes immediately dies down, suddenly looking like a kicked puppy who didn’t get any belly rubs. It somehow makes you feel bad — somehow you sympathize with him. “..Fine.” you mumble. You can’t believe yourself. “Though there’s one condition: You’ll have to pay for everything.”

“Sure, no problem.” Aventurine agrees without any hesitation and that makes you skittish. “I was joking!” He gives you a boyish grin “Well, I know but it’s not like it’s a big deal either. Also, can this be considered a date?” he props his elbow up and places his cheek onto his balled fist, smirking while doing so.

“Aventurine,” you say in a stern voice. “Don’t make me change my mind.”

Your irritated eyes meet his fond ones. “I’m glad.” he expresses and you’re caught off guard by his sincere tone. There’s no teasing or playfulness behind it, just pure gratefulness.

“Is it alright if I have your number? It’s easier to reach you then.” the smirk plastered on his face is enough to tell you what the actual intention behind his words is.

“Admit it. You just want my number, don’t you?” you deadpan him.

“Hmm, who knows?” the grin on his face only grew wider, amused by the fact that you caught on so quickly.

Swiftly you fish out your phone from your pockets, unlocking it before showing him your phone number, and before you can even ask how he’s saved your number; which contact name he typed in for you, he pulls his phone away. Smiling in triumph upon seeing your irritated face.

He gets up from the chair he’s been sitting on for the past few minutes. “Well, your break is about to end soon, so I’ll take my leave.” your eyes follow him as he checks if he’s got everything. “See you tomorrow then:” he says in a playful tone before leaving.

Yeah, you’re going to meet your demise, you just know it.

END NOTE: this is just idk man we're gonna progress more in the future chaps okay 😔

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unicyclehippo · 4 months ago

Text

ok so i submitted a story for a competition & didn't get far but i was pretty happy with it so imma post it here for y'all. pls enjoy!

YEAR OF THE WOLF

Blood and shampoo wash pink down the shower drain. My body aches, back hot with pain. I gotta stretch more, I think, before remembering what time of month it is.

I’m not stupid, I want that to be known up top.

Tired? Yes. A bit forgetful now and then? Certainly. Overly reliant on blind optimism? Of course. Who can afford for things to go wrong these days? But stupid? No. Not about this, anyway. I’ve known for almost a decade that I’m a werewolf. I just thought if I ignored it long enough it would stop, or at least stay low on the list of important things I had to deal with—somewhere between turning thirty and the world burning down around our ears.

Still, it manages to take me by surprise each month. I see the blood, feel the shift-pull-crack of bones and vitals, the wet throb of viscera and organs, as my body reshapes itself. The wolf and I share a space not big enough for two; something must give way.

I lose time daydreaming about it. Transforming. My only plan for the day is work, maybe video games later, cooking dinner. I could call in sick. I could clear away the bathmat and towels and fall to my hands and knees and change into something bloody and terrible and wonderful, I could lay myself down on the soft carpet in the sunrays, decadent, I could leap from my balcony, powerful, and lope away into the bush off the track to explore the silver-blue of the leaves and the cathedral termite mounds, I could—

The shower pipes groan, rattle, and spit freezing water down onto me.

I don’t transform.

I towel off. The mirror shows me a human with the same soft features as ever. Shampoo suds clinging to my shoulders. Hair cut short and plastered down on chalk-white skin paler than usual. The doctor warned me low iron was a side-effect of transformation but I look myself over for another cause. Lift my arms, twist to check my back. There’s a pimple or two where my binder digs in but no injuries. I promise the doctor in my head I’ll bring it up at our next appointment.

My doctor is a careful woman, dedicated and precise. She sits primly and dresses well—her blouse is fashionable, flowery, her trousers professional and practical. She keeps notes in a leatherbound book and her thoughts securely behind her eyes. She asked me to keep track of any changes Inoticed. I pull out a crumpled receipt where I’d scrawled some notes.

tired

hungry

headaches

more dreams than usual

tired—oh I already wrote that down. still true

irritated way more by stuff?

jaw hurts?

‘Alright,’ she says, writing it down on her page about me.

I sit hunched opposite her, then fix my posture, then let my shoulders droop again, conscious of being too broad, too big. In the time it takes for her to commit a few brief notes to paper, I’m struggling not to get distracted by the lights and their electric buzz—the popping stop and start as the filaments crackle in the bulbs. My eyes wander over neat stacks of paperwork, a penholder with all the pens pointed in the same direction.

‘We’re going to order a blood test. You’re right, the fatigue and headaches could be an indicator of iron deficiency.’

‘Okay.’

‘Do you know if there’s a history?’

‘Of…iron deficiency?’

She smiles. ‘Of lycanthropy.’

The question makes my head spin. There’s been some excitement about there being some genetic predisposition to lycanthropy (unconfirmed), which half my friends were leery of, seeing the research as another way for hunters to exterminate us, and half took to romantic spirals, daydreaming about their ancestors being just like them. But the doc is asking about, like, my parents and grandparents, and it makes me laugh.

‘No. No way.’ I think harder. Is it possible? My maternal grandparents, definitely not. But my dad’s parents…I don’t know that well. ‘I could ask, maybe.’

After the three haphazard sessions we’ve had stretching across eleven months, which chiefly feature my repeated and sustained reluctance to talk, she indicates her doubt with a quiet raised brow.

It’s fair. I don’t tend to do things I don’t want to do, even if they’re important. Sometimes, especially if they’re important.

At the end of our fifteen-minute session, she walks me to the door and beneath the stench of eucalyptus-scented cleaner that makes my nose itch and head ache, I catch a whiff of her cologne. Wood pine and wild.

I think about it all day.

Has she helped me because she’s like me? The thought races ahead of me, tempting; I sprint after it. I wonder what she wears at home. Does she google boxers for bed because they seem so comfortable? Does she veer at the last moment to Boyfriend shorts! Now in satin – for HER! Or does she kick the world off at the front door next to her shoes and just…exist. Is she like me? Just a person who does things? Or is she a woman who does things? Or a person who does woman things or a woman who does womanly things or a woman who does things knowing they’re not womanly and caring or not caring? Does she splinter the cage that would contain her and let the hungry animal of her body carry her to meat and sleep and hunting and to the warmth of her partner at rest?

Is she like me?

As a kid, I wanted to take karate. My brother wanted to sing. Somehow, I ended up in the music class. It was in a demountable that creaked, off-key, with every step and stunk of the creek next door. The singing teacher had a red round face and told me not to sing too loud—I was practicing to be part of the choir, I should be part of the group. That group was made up entirely of nervous and near-silent girls who shivered with the desire above all else not to stand out. (I learned that part well.)

On the other side of school, my brother stood in karate class with a teacher who ignored him and older boys who picked on him—he was short back then, with baby fat still on his cheeks, and had a close relationship with boredom and distraction that came from being smarter than most.

Once we figured out the joke being played on us, our places switched, we made a pact to teach each other what we learned. It didn’t last. Within three lessons, I spent more time on the walk to the classroom than in class; I dawdled in the fields and by the creek, tracking beetles and digging for dinosaur bones in the mud. When I did arrive, it was twenty-five minutes late with dirt under my nails and finally the teacher told me not to show up. My brother took a faster approach and called the teacher a moron. Mum had to pick him up early from class and neither of us learned very much.

My gran lives hours away and I never got the impression she liked me much. I think about sitting in her drawing room, the sticky-sugar smell from bottles of fancy port on the shelf, and her sitting opposite, eyes hawklike, mouth pursed and tongue sharp. I don’t visit her. I think about asking my dad instead and, while he does like me, he doesn’t like werewolves and I’m not ready to risk exile.

I get my blood drawn. The doctor prescribes iron pills and congratulates me on my teeth coming in.

My mother doesn’t like my sharp teeth or short hair or the way I sit. I want to tell her I didn’t do anything to my teeth; that if anyone is to blame for the handsome jut of my canines, the neat, careful way they can tear flesh from bone, it’s her. She made me. But saying stuff like that only opens up the room for more questions.

‘Do you like it? Looking like that?’

It will hurt her if I say yes. When you are a daughter, wanting to change means you don’t want to become your mother, which means you don’t love her.

I can’t say no.

The wolf stirs. It wants me to say yes. It loves fiercely and loves me most of all. But it isn’t the one who has to live here—work, be a daughter, a sister. It won’t be the one who has to listen to my mother tell me to be sure before I tell anyone else because there’s no going back and people will hate me for it, just for being, and that she can’t support me doing that to myself, that it’s against the god she’s never thought twice about, and has someone talked me into it?

I’m not ready for that.

‘It’s just teeth,’ I say.

She shakes her head but doesn’t ask any more questions. I think she’s scared I’ll tell her the truth.

am i a coward?

My friend Luna takes a long while to answer.

While I wait, I wash the dishes I’ve been “soaking” for three days; the kitchen smells of dish soap when I’m done and the world is a little cleaner. Outside, my balcony is drenched in sunlight. I make my coffee and sit out there, turning my nose to the wind. Somewhere close by, someone is cooking chicken loaded up with paprika. It’s more accurate to say they’re burning chicken. Next door, my neighbour digs through the rich dirt of their garden and plants rosemary and lavender.

My phone lights up.

No, she says. Then, Why do you ask?

the whole werewolf thing. i won’t transform, wont tell my family.

This reply is much faster. Definitely not.

i feel like one

First of all, you transform when it’s right & as much or little as you want & that changes from person to person. Second, being safe is not cowardly.

yeah

Do you want to tell them?

The coffee is gorgeously strong. After a few gulps, I feel like someone has brushed the cobwebs out of my head.

it’s like. there’s this version of me in their heads that isn’t real yknow. like im not a person im a cloud in person shape & sometimes they get a glimpse of my hand or whatever. & its safe inside the cloud its harder to hit me but . they cant see me

sorry i know this is teenager shit

In the distance, a fire alarm starts to blare.

No it’s good. I get it, obviously. And you know my parents were awful when I told them but we go running every month now. The question isn’t “am I a coward”. The question is, are you prepared to confront that version of yourself in their heads? Are you ready for it to change?

i wish i knew. how it would change i mean. bc i feel like if i knew for Sure that they would take it badly then that’s one thing & i could deal w that. & if i knew theyd be fine w it i could deal with That but. i don’t know. & its freaking me out. but it’s also like…ok i don’t live w them, i’ve got a job, idont rely on them for anything. what real bad consequences could there be?

Dots pop up at the bottom of the screen. They disappear after a minute, then reappear, as Luna takes her time to answer. Finally, she says,

By announcing the real version of yourself, you open yourself up to vulnerability. Things that didn’t bother you before will feel uncomfortable or hurt because it touches you. And when you change the way that you exist in the eyes of people who are supposed to love you unconditionally, you invite the possibility that they will reveal the love was in fact conditional & not for you, that you somehow failed to live up to the person they imagined you to be

mate i’m already scraping the bottom lol

You’re wonderful, Luna says, because she can tell when a joke isn’t really a joke. Her worst trait. If they can’t see that, it doesn’t mean it’s not true.

yeah

You don’t have to tell everyone. You could pick whoever would take it best & get someone on your side. When I take too long to answer, Luna sends a string of photos—her dogs, her family in matching hiking shirts, the view of the nearly full moonon her side of the world. I’m on your side, she says. Always. Let me know how it goes.

The full moon burns, beckons. We are both gloriously awake this time. I have never been more awake. The sky is a black lake and when it rains we taste space and stars and smog. The stairs are slick with the rain. On all fours we are sure, quick, eager! The grass is waiting for us! Splendid! Everything is incandescent in silver, including me. The grass—dew-wet, green scent full in our nose—invites us to roll in it, sticks its seedlings to our fur, tagalongs on our adventure. We run! Smell everything! ticklegrass wetmoss possum pee BUG rough brick mud SPIKY plant big tree lavender dog smell road gutter old leaves bird feathers vinegar shARP on my tongue bag crinkles between our teeth

The days’ heat still smoulders on the surface of the road. We are standing in the centre of it, massive, when a car crests the hill. It stops, engine rumbling and blue-glare lights illuminating us. It waits for us to cross the road before driving on. The driver stares from their seat. In one easy jump, we clear the fence and disappear.

Three more streets and the road ends. The world is huge, bigger than I could have imagined. There’s dirt here! dirt mud rocks beetles scuffling under the leaves koala musk leads to claw marks at the base of trees.

The wolf likes it when I’m awake. It wants to show me the world. Look, its questing nose says, look what you miss out on when you sleep.

It takes us to a termite mound and we listen to them sing.

We stay out all night, trekking through the pocket of national park. I am the biggest thing in the forest. Nothing frightens me. We find a creek filled with every fascination the world has to offer. Ten thousand wet stones, bottle caps, an ill-tempered fish.

When the sun rises, I am sore and covered in blood. I call my brother to pick me up. I stand by the edge of the park to wait for him; at the bottom of the hill, the highway stretches out like a grey branch, cars buzzing along it like bugs. A firefly splits off from it, flying towards me.

The yellow of the headlights cuts through the trees. Inside the car, my brother jumps when he sees me and the light reflecting off my eyes. The wolf is still awake and we move fast and strong to the passenger side door.

He knows.

I can tell. Smell it on him, see it in his uneasy posture. He knows and still I can’t say it. It feels like I’ve swallowed a bird whole, alive. It trembles, stuck in my throat. When I think about talking it pecks at my tongue and if I open my mouth, if I try to explain, he will see my bloody tongue and the bird and he’ll see me all wrong, all the ugly brutish parts of me I’d like to keep hidden, if I can.

The wolf is still awake. It isn’t scared; it is massive and powerful, it can bite through anything, it can run forever without getting tired. We can. And if there is ever a time to talk to my brother, to let him know who I am, it is now.

I do not want him to think I am a bloody-mouthed girl.

I want him to know I am not a coward. I am myself, a werewolf, alive and finally happy for it.

The wolf yawns. I catch a glimpse of my teeth in the mirror, sharp.

‘Hey.’ Of all the ways to break a very tense silence, it’s not the worst. ‘Thank you. For picking me up.’

He risks a look at me, away from the road. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Yeah.’

A muscle tics in his cheek as he chews on silence. He’s upset that I won’t say more. So am I. I want to. The bird is in the way. I have always had to trick myself into talking; it is never easy, not in doctor’s office, not in my parents’ home, not in the forest, or my brother’s car.

We slow. Ahead, the traffic lights paint the dashboard red. The car shivers around us, idling. I can feel it shake through my bare feet, dirty and scratched up from the rocks, pressed to the rubber floor mats.

The first word comes out like a pulled tooth.

‘I—need to say.’ He glances my way. I think, briefly, about jumping out the window but the light turns green so I can’t. I have to talk instead. ‘I’m a werewolf.’

He drives. I realise he must have been waiting to talk, really talk, because this is the first time I’ve been in his car without music playing.

‘I think the proper term is lycanthrope,’ he says, finally.

‘Dude.’

‘Sorry. Just, medically speaking...’ He shakes his head. Drums his fingers against the wheel. ‘How long?’

‘I dunno.’ I do. A decade of knowing and doing nothing about it. Almost a year of thinking very hard about it and doing slightly more.

He knows me better than my doctor; both his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, entirely unconvinced.

‘I’m still me,’ I tell him, because that’s what everyone says in books and movies. I guess it’s what you’re supposed to say. What I want to say is that I’m more me than ever. What I want him to say is thank you, and I’m his favourite person, and that he understands how hard it was for me to share but he’s proud of me. But I would have to ask for that and the bird in my throat won’t budge.

‘Okay. Wow. So… Are you going to move? Change your name? Are you going to get claws? A tail?’

‘Okay, never ask me that again.’ He laughs. ‘And no. I don’t think so. I kind of like that it’s not super obvious. It’s no-ones business but mine.’

‘And mine now.’ I think he’s smiling, a little. ‘Why did you tell me? If you don’t want anyone to know?’

I wish I was still a wolf. If I were a wolf, I would howl and people would understand. The tenor, the tremble, the shivering cadence. There would be no need for picking the right words, no eye contact, no consequences for an ill-timed joke, no shame for feeling everything so big and weird, like there’s a forest in my chest and a songbird choir blocking up my throat. My hands itch as the claws retract under my skin and I fight to keep from scratching, fidgeting. I turn to stare out the window.

To his reflection in the glass, I say, ‘I want you to like me.’

‘Of course I like you—’

‘I’m louder like this,’ I whisper. He looks unconvinced, which is fair. I’m still hiding. ‘Messy. Bigger and stubborn and hairier and angrier. It’s not the wolf. I’m like that too. I wanna be like that. Real. I’m so—I’m so tired. All the time. I don’t want to pretend anymore. I want to be me and I want you to like me as me.’

My back aches as everything in me crunches back into place. The wolf is asleep and it has left me alone with my words and my brother.

‘I really love you,’ he tells me as he pulls up outside my house. He puts his hand warm on mine. He doesn’t flinch at the blood. He hugs me close. Plucks a leaf from my hair.

My brother offers to come with me to tell our parents. It probably would have been smart but I’m still wary. If it goes bad…I don’t want him to see that.

‘How did it happen?’ my mother asks when I’m done, like it’s something you can catch.

For a moment, I entertain the thought of lying.

Do you remember my uni friend? Verne? Well he’s part of a pack and if he brings in three new werewolves over three months, and they each bring in three new werewolves, he gets a bonus. Why? Are you interested in this exciting new life opportunity?

I can’t joke about it yet. Worst outcome, she thinks I’m serious about it being a some kind of cult. Less worse but still bad outcome, she thinks I’m being unserious about the whole thing. Nevermind that I have thought about it every day for ten years, this inevitable confrontation, this moment where I have to explain myself, defend my existence, back up my claims with proof and research like it’s my thesis. I tell her,

‘It just made sense.’

She likes that less than she would have if I’d joked about it, gets all stiff and pinched.

‘It doesn’t make sense to me. I don’t understand where this is coming from—you’re human. You’re not –‘ She shakes her head. ‘Maybe if you left the house more often. These things you’re imagining about yourself, if you were around more people…you’re not like that. You’re lovely,’ she insists. ‘You’re not that.’

It should hurt to hear. It probably does, in a way I’ll feel five years down the line, and I’ll wish that I had bit back, told her that just because she thinks there’s something wrong with me doesn’t make it true.

My dad hasn’t said anything.

When I look at him, he’s staring down at his plate. He eats everything on it, even the tomatoes he usually tries to hide under the broccoli stems. Then he stands, puts it in the dishwasher, and walks away.

‘It’ll pass,’ my mother tells me. ‘You’ll come to your senses. This won’t last—don’t do anything permanent. Don’t do anything you’ll regret.’

Don’t give in.

Don’t transform.

Don’t smile wide enough to show your teeth.

Don’t tell anyone else.

I realise I’ve been trying my hardest not to do anything, like being nothing would be preferable to being me. When did I get the idea that to starve would be better than anyone seeing me hungry?

‘I don’t want to hide anymore.’

‘But it’s no-one’s business,’ she insists. ‘I don’t understand why anyone needs to know, I mean, I don’t go around telling people I’m human.’

The words sound different coming from her mouth but they’re the same.

It’s no-ones business but mine. That’s what I told my brother and I thought I meant it but now I think I was still scared. Biting off bits of myself before anyone pulled out the silverware and cut it from me.

There’s a bird in my throat and the little bastard is choking me. It’s not fair. I don’t want to die without saying what I mean for once.

I bite down on it, blood between my teeth.

‘It’s not the same thing,’ I snap. There’s a gorgeous growl to my words I’ve never heard before. No one told me that would happen. I love it. I love the sound of my voice. ‘No one tries to kill you because you’re human.’

‘Exactly!’

When I stand up fast, chair scraping against the floor, she freezes. Caught between telling me to pick up the chair first and not knowing how to talk to a monster in her daughter’s skin.

It hadn’t occurred to me that telling the truth wouldn’t change just me.

Staring back at my mother, I find I don’t much like the woman I see. If that’s what awaited me, I’m glad to have changed. The world is huge and beautiful and painful and I am kinder, stronger, hardier for it.

I pick up my bag from the floor.

‘I’m the same person, it’s just now you know I’m a werewolf. When we went out for lunch last week? Werewolf. When I got you groceries when you were sick? Werewolf. Every birthday, holiday, every vacation we’ve had since I was nineteen? Werewolf.’

She looks sick. Puts a hand on the counter to steady herself.

When I get home, I’m going to curl up in my closet for a week. The bird is going to come back any second now with backup. Eagles, this time. ‘I’ve had a really long time to think about this and you haven’t so I’m - I’ll give you time. But you should know that I’m happy and healthy and safe. All the things you said you wanted for me.’

As I leave her house, maybe for the last time, I hope she’ll call. I don’t know if she will.

I have been sleeping better and dreaming more. In my dreams, I am always the same. I have a wolf head, with sharp teeth and keen eyes. I sing with a powerful voice that has unsettled for centuries. I cannot see my pack but I can hear them out there, howling. My body is the same; the only difference are the claw marks across my flat chest, red and raw and careful. I am not dead, only transformed.

#tagging my stories #original fiction #werewolves my beloveds.......

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