#and he still hasn’t told you that he fancies you | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nextchae · 3 months ago

Text

embers – choi soobin

word count: 16.4k

pairing: choi soobin x fem!reader

synopsis: After a devastating breakup in Seoul, Y/N returns to her small hometown, seeking solace in the familiar but finding her past more complicated than she remembered. As she reconnects with her family, twin brother Beomgyu, and her childhood friends Ryujin and Soobin, the unresolved feelings she has for Soobin begin to resurface. Amidst the backdrop of small-town life and the warmth of old friendships, Y/N must navigate the pain of her past to discover whether her heart truly belongs in the place she left behind—or in the arms of the person who's always been there, waiting.

genre: love next door!au, childhood friends to lovers, slowburn, fluff, suggestive themes

The train slows as it nears the station, the rhythmic clatter of the tracks gradually fading. Outside the window, the cityscape of Seoul has long since given way to the rolling hills and open fields of Gwangcheon, the small town you once called home. You haven’t been back in years, not since you left for university and the bright lights of the city. Now, the sight of it fills you with a mixture of anxiety and reluctant nostalgia.

Your reflection in the window stares back at you, eyes still puffy from the sleepless nights that have plagued you since the breakup. Seoul was supposed to be your fresh start, your escape from the confines of small-town life. Instead, it became the place where everything fell apart.

His name was Daehyun. You met during your second year of university, in a café just off campus where you both liked to study. He had a warm smile, the kind that made you feel like you were the only person in the room, and a outgoing personality that drew you in. He was different from anyone you’d ever met—sophisticated, ambitious, and completely in control of his life. Or at least, that’s what you thought.

For a while, everything was perfect. He introduced you to a world you’d only ever dreamed of—fancy restaurants, art galleries, weekend trips to places you’d never been. He made you feel special, important, like you were part of something bigger. But slowly, almost imperceptibly, things began to change.

He became distant, absorbed in his work and his own life. You told yourself it was just a phase, that he was busy, that he still cared. But the late-night arguments started, his voice cold and cutting as he accused you of being too needy, too demanding. You tried to make it work, to hold onto the relationship that had once made you so happy. But it was like trying to hold water in your hands—the more you tried, the more it slipped away.

The final straw came when you found out he’d been seeing someone else, a girl from his work. The betrayal cut deep, shattering the last remnants of the trust you’d once had in him. You confronted him, hoping for an apology, for some sign that he still cared. But all he said was that he didn’t see a future with you, that it was better to end things now before it got worse.

You left his apartment that night, your heart in pieces, the life you’d built in Seoul suddenly meaningless. You couldn’t stay there, surrounded by memories of him, by the constant reminders of what you’d lost. So you packed your things, bought a train ticket, and left the city behind without a word to anyone.

As the train pulls into the station, you force yourself to take a deep breath. You’re not ready for this, not ready to face your family and the questions you know are coming. But there’s no turning back now. The past few months have been a blur of pain and confusion, and all you can do is hope that coming home will help you find some semblance of peace.

The station is small, just as you remember it, with only a handful of people waiting on the platform. As you step off the train, your suitcase rolling behind you, you spot Beomgyu leaning against the hood of the family car. He hasn’t changed much—your twin brother is tall and lean, with the same mischievous glint in his eyes that’s been there since you were kids. But there’s something else in his expression now, something softer, more understanding.

When he sees you, his face lights up with a smile that makes your heart ache with a bittersweet mix of relief and guilt. He pushes off the car and walks over to you, pulling you into a tight hug before you can say anything.

“Hey, you,” he says, his voice warm and familiar. “You made it.”

You nod, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “Yeah. I’m here.”

He pulls back, studying your face with a concerned frown. “You okay?”

You manage a shaky smile. “Not really. But I will be.”

He nods, seeming to understand. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

The drive through town is quiet, the silence between you and Beomgyu filled with unspoken words. The streets of Gwangcheon look almost exactly as they did when you left—small shops with faded signs, the old school building, and the park where you and Beomgyu used to play. The familiarity is comforting, but also disorienting, like stepping into a past you’re not sure you belong to anymore.

Beomgyu keeps glancing over at you as he drives, his expression thoughtful. “Mom’s going to be surprised,” he says after a while. “You didn’t give her any warning.”

“I know,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know how to tell her. Or what to say.”

“She’ll understand,” he says firmly. “She’s just going to be happy you’re home.”

You nod, hoping he’s right. You haven’t told anyone the full story—not your parents, not Beomgyu, not even your closest friends. It’s too raw, too painful to put into words. But you know you can’t avoid it forever. Sooner or later, you’ll have to face the questions, the concern, the inevitable pity.

When you pull up to the house, the familiar sight of it brings a rush of memories. It’s a modest place, with a small garden out front that your mother has always taken pride in. The curtains in the living room window flutter slightly, a sign that someone inside has noticed your arrival.

Beomgyu grabs your suitcase from the trunk and gives you a reassuring smile. “Ready?”

“Not really,” you admit, but you follow him up the path anyway, your heart pounding in your chest.

He opens the door without knocking, calling out, “Mom! We’re here!”

You step into the entryway, the familiar scent of home—lavender and something faintly floral—washing over you. It’s a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless. You can hear footsteps coming down the hall, and then your mother appears, her face lighting up with surprise and confusion as she sees you standing there.

“Y/N?” she says, her voice filled with disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

You try to smile, but it feels forced. “Surprise?”

For a moment, she just stares at you, as if trying to convince herself that you’re really here. Then she steps forward, pulling you into a tight hug, her arms wrapping around you with a familiarity that brings tears to your eyes. You can feel the tension in her shoulders, the worry she’s trying to hide, but she doesn’t say anything, just holds you like she’s afraid to let go.

After a long moment, she pulls back, her hands still resting on your shoulders as she studies your face. “What happened, sweetheart? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

You swallow hard, trying to find the words. “I…I needed to get away. From Seoul. From everything.”

Her expression softens, and she nods, understanding without you needing to explain further. “You’re home now,” she says gently. “That’s all that matters.”

Beomgyu sets your suitcase down by the stairs and gives you a small smile. “I’ll take your stuff up to your room.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, grateful for his quiet support.

Your mother guides you into the living room, where the afternoon light filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the familiar furniture. You sit down on the sofa, feeling the weight of the past few months pressing down on you. Your mother sits beside you, her hand resting on yours, offering silent comfort.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks softly, her voice full of concern.

You shake your head, the tears threatening to spill over. “Not yet. I just…I need some time.”

She nods, squeezing your hand gently. “Take all the time you need, sweetheart. We’re here for you.”

The warmth of her words wraps around you like a blanket, easing some of the tension that has been sitting in your chest. You lean back against the sofa, letting out a long breath as you try to relax. The house is quiet, the only sound the distant ticking of the old clock on the mantel.

Beomgyu returns a few minutes later, his footsteps soft on the hardwood floor. “Everything’s in your room,” he says, sitting down on the armchair across from you. “Figured you might want to unpack later.”

You nod, too exhausted to do much more than that. “Thanks, Beomgyu.”

He shrugs, but there’s a softness in his eyes that tells you he’s just as relieved as you are to have you home. “What are brothers for?”

Your mother glances between the two of you, her expression a mixture of relief and concern. “Why don’t we have some tea? I just made a fresh pot.”

You agree, grateful for the distraction. As she heads to the kitchen, Beomgyu gives you a knowing look. “Want to sneak out?”

You laugh, slightly taken aback before shaking your head. You’ve been away so long, too long, and it’s made you momentarily forget how much you missed your brother and all of his mischief.

When your mother returns with the tea, the three of you settle into a comfortable silence, the warmth of the house seeping into your bones. For the first time in weeks, you feel a small flicker of hope, like maybe, just maybe, things will be okay again.

You sit with Beomgyu and your mother, sipping tea in the cozy living room. The warmth of the tea combined with the comforting atmosphere starts to thaw the cold ache in your chest. Your mother chatters about the latest town gossip, the news she knows you haven’t kept up with since moving to Seoul. Beomgyu chimes in now and then, adding his own commentary that makes your mother smile and shake her head in that fond, exasperated way she always does with him.

You’re beginning to feel a sense of normalcy, like maybe you can fit back into this life, even after everything that’s happened. But just as you start to relax, the sound of the front door opening interrupts the moment.

Your father’s voice echoes from the hallway, a familiar deep rumble that always made you feel safe as a child. “Honey, I’m home! You’ll never guess what—” He stops mid-sentence as he steps into the living room, his eyes landing on you. For a second, he just stares, as if trying to process whether or not you’re real.

“Y/N?” His voice is filled with disbelief, his eyes wide as he looks at you. “Am I dreaming, or is my daughter really sitting on my couch?”

You stand up, feeling a little self-conscious under his gaze. “It’s me, Dad. I’m home.”

He blinks a few times, then a wide grin spreads across his face. “Well, I’ll be! The prodigal daughter returns!” He strides across the room and wraps you in a bear hug, lifting you slightly off the ground like he used to when you were little. You laugh, the sound surprising you with how natural it feels.

When he finally sets you down, he steps back and gives you a once-over, his expression a mix of concern and affection. “What brings you back to our little corner of the world? You didn’t even tell us you were coming!”

Your mother, who had been watching with a fond smile, steps in before you can answer. “She needed a break from the city, that’s all. And we’re just happy to have her back, aren’t we?”

“Happy?” Your dad scoffs playfully. “That’s an understatement! This calls for a celebration!” He claps his hands together, then turns to Beomgyu. “Go grab that cake from the fridge, son. We’ve got something to celebrate now!”

Beomgyu rolls his eyes but grins, heading to the kitchen to fetch the cake. You can’t help but smile at your dad’s enthusiasm. He’s always been the lighthearted one, the one who could turn any situation into something to laugh about. It’s comforting, especially after everything you’ve been through.

As you all settle back into the living room with slices of cake, your dad starts telling stories from work, exaggerating the mundane until you’re all laughing so hard your sides hurt. For a moment, you forget about the heartbreak, the betrayal, and the uncertainty. Here, with your family, things feel almost normal again.

After a while, the conversation turns quieter, the evening settling in around you. You glance out the window, the sky a deep indigo as night takes hold. It’s been a long day, and the emotional toll of coming home is starting to catch up with you.

“I think I’m going to head up to my room,” you say, rising from the sofa. “It’s been a long day.”

Your mother looks up at you, her eyes soft with understanding. “Of course, sweetheart. Get some rest. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

Beomgyu nods, still munching on his cake. “Yeah, you’ll need your energy for Mom’s full interrogation tomorrow.”

You laugh softly, but there’s a sadness in it, too. You wave goodnight and head upstairs, the familiar creak of the wooden steps under your feet. Your room is exactly as you left it—well, almost. There are a few changes, little signs that your mother has kept it clean and cozy even in your absence. The bed is freshly made, and the shelves are dusted, but everything else is just as it was when you left for Seoul.

You set your suitcase down and walk over to the window, looking out at the quiet street. It’s so different from the bustling chaos of Seoul, where everything felt like it was moving too fast, too uncontrollably. Here, everything is still, calm, almost eerily peaceful. You sit on the edge of your bed, the weight of the day finally pressing down on you. The ache in your chest that you’ve been holding at bay all evening starts to grow, and you can feel the tears welling up behind your eyes.

But before you can let yourself break down, there’s a soft tapping at your window.

You freeze, confused, then look over. Your heart skips a beat when you see Ryujin standing outside, a wide grin on her face, her breath fogging up the glass. She waves at you, her smile so familiar it makes you want to cry.

You scramble to open the window, and she immediately climbs inside with the grace and ease of someone who’s done this a hundred times before. As soon as she’s in, she tackles you in a hug, nearly knocking you off the bed.

“I can’t believe you’re actually here!” Ryujin says, her voice a mix of excitement and disbelief. “When my mom said she saw you coming home, I thought she was joking!”

You laugh, the sound choked by the emotion in your throat, and hug her back tightly. “I’m here. I’m really here.”

She pulls back just enough to look at you, her eyes scanning your face with concern. “I knew something was up when I didn’t hear from you for a while, but I didn’t expect this. Are you okay?”

You shake your head, tears finally spilling over. “Not really. But being here…it helps.”

Ryujin’s expression softens, and she wipes away your tears with her thumb. “You’re home now. We’ll figure it out, okay?”

You nod, unable to speak as more tears fall. She pulls you into another hug, her presence a comfort you didn’t realize you needed so badly. The two of you sit there for a long time, just holding each other in the dim light of your room.

Eventually, Ryujin pulls back and flops onto your bed, patting the spot beside her. “Come on, let’s catch up. It’s been way too long since we had one of our late-night talks.”

You smile through your tears and join her, the two of you lying side by side like you used to in high school. The conversation flows easily, like no time has passed at all. She tells you about everything that’s happened in Gwangcheon since you left—who’s dating who, the latest school scandals, and all the little things you’ve missed.

As the night wears on, you find yourself feeling lighter, the burden of your breakup and the move back home easing just a little.

“So…have you seen Soobin yet?”

You stiffen slightly, the name bringing back a flood of memories you’ve been trying to keep at bay. Soobin, your childhood friend, the boy who lived next door. The boy who was always there, even when you didn’t realize how much you needed him.

“No,” you say quietly, staring up at the ceiling. “I haven’t seen him yet.”

Ryujin rolls onto her side, propping herself up on her elbow to look at you. “He’s been around, you know. Helping his mom with the garden, hanging out at the old spots. I think he’ll be really happy to see you.”

You nod, feeling a strange mix of anticipation and fear. You’ve kept in touch with Soobin, but it’s been sporadic, the two of you drifting apart as you got older and your lives took different paths. But now that you’re back, there’s a part of you that’s terrified of what seeing him again might mean.

Ryujin seems to sense your hesitation and reaches out to squeeze your hand. “It’ll be okay, Y/N. He’s still Soobin, and you’re still you. Just…talk to him. Like old times.”

You nod again, but the knot in your stomach doesn’t loosen. You know you’ll have to face him eventually, just like you have to face everything else. But for tonight, you’re grateful to have Ryujin by your side, helping you navigate the tangled mess of your emotions.

As the two of you talk late into the night, you feel a little more like yourself, a little more like the girl who used to lie here with her best friend, dreaming about the future and everything it held.

You wake up to the smell of breakfast cooking downstairs, the scent of your mother’s pancakes filling the air. The sun is just beginning to filter through your curtains, and for a moment, you feel a sense of peace, as if the world outside your window isn’t so complicated. It’s a sharp contrast to the rush and chaos of Seoul mornings, where you barely had time to grab a piece of toast before running out the door.

You roll over, half expecting to see Ryujin still curled up next to you, but the spot beside you is empty. Her absence pulls you from the cocoon of warmth you’d wrapped yourself in. Your mind flickers with the memory of last night, the way she’d asked about Soobin, and how much his name had unsettled you. You stretch out the tension from your limbs, a part of you grateful that she didn’t push the conversation further.

After quickly changing into something comfortable, you head downstairs, following the sounds of clattering dishes and the hum of conversation. When you reach the kitchen, you find your mother at the stove, flipping pancakes with a practiced ease. Your father is seated at the table, sipping his coffee and reading the morning paper. Beomgyu, ever the night owl, is half-asleep with his head on the table, barely managing to keep his eyes open.

“Good morning,” you say, sliding into the chair next to Beomgyu. He grunts a sleepy response, still not fully awake.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” your mother replies brightly, turning to give you a warm smile. “I was just about to call you down. Breakfast is almost ready.”

Your dad peers over the top of his newspaper, giving you a nod of greeting. “Morning, kiddo. Sleep well?”

“Yeah,” you say, though the truth is that your sleep was fitful, your mind too busy with thoughts of everything that’s changed. But you don’t want to burden your parents with that, not when they’re so happy to have you home.

Just as you’re about to ask where Ryujin went, the front door swings open with a loud creak, and she bursts into the kitchen, a wide grin on her face. And right behind her is Soobin.

Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him, the memories of last night’s conversation rushing back. He looks almost exactly as you remember—tall, with that familiar mop of dark hair falling into his eyes. There’s something in the way he carries himself that’s different now, though—a quiet confidence that wasn’t there when you were kids.

“Look who I found wandering around outside!” Ryujin announces, her voice full of mischief. She’s practically dragging Soobin by the arm as she pulls him into the kitchen. He gives her an exasperated look, though there’s a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Morning,” Soobin says, his voice warm but slightly hesitant as his eyes meet yours. You can tell he’s unsure, probably wondering how you’re going to react after all this time.

“Morning, Soobin!” your mother says cheerfully, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world for him to be here. “Sit down, I’ll get you a plate. We’ve got plenty of pancakes.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Y/L/N,” Soobin replies, taking a seat at the table. Ryujin plops down next to him, grinning at the both of you like she knows something you don’t.

You offer Soobin a small smile, still feeling the awkwardness lingering between you, but it’s nothing compared to the warmth of seeing him again. “Hey, Soobin.”

“Hey, Y/N,” he says, returning your smile. His voice is softer than you remember, but there’s a steadiness to it that reassures you. The tension between you begins to ease just a little.

“Finally,” Beomgyu mumbles, pushing himself up from the table, more awake now that the smell of pancakes has fully roused him. “I thought I was the only one getting dragged out of bed this early.”

Ryujin snickers. “Oh, please, Beomgyu. You’re always the last one up. I had to do all the work to get him here.”

Soobin chuckles, shaking his head. “She practically jumped through my window to get me up. I’m still not sure how she got into my house.”

Beomgyu grins, the drowsiness now fully replaced by his usual humor. “That’s just Ryujin for you. No one is safe from her morning raids.”

“Exactly,” Ryujin says, unrepentant. She looks at Soobin, then at you, a glint of something in her eyes. “Anyway, I figured you’d want to see each other. It’s been way too long.”

Your heart skips a beat at her words, but you quickly focus on your breakfast, not wanting to let the moment become too heavy. Still, you can feel Soobin’s gaze on you, and when you glance up, he’s watching you with that same soft, almost nostalgic expression.

“Yeah,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “It has been.”

The conversation around the table soon picks up, with your dad jumping in to share some of the ridiculous stories from his job, while Ryujin and Beomgyu start bickering over the last pancake. Soobin joins in, his laugh filling the room and making you remember all the times the three of you hung out here after school, eating snacks your mom prepared while you joked around until your sides hurt.

For a while, the stiffness between you and Soobin fades, and you find yourselves slipping back into the easy childhood friendship you once shared. He teases you about your terrible aim in the old treehouse slingshot wars, and you fire back about his disastrous attempt at baking cookies that one time. Even Beomgyu gets in on it, reminding Soobin of the time he got stuck in the fence trying to sneak into your backyard.

“Oh my god, I thought we agreed never to speak of that again,” Soobin groans, his face turning slightly red as everyone laughs.

“No way, man,” Beomgyu says, grinning. “That’s one of the all-time classics. Right up there with Ryujin breaking the garden gnome.”

“That gnome was creepy anyway,” Ryujin protests, but she’s laughing, too.

You can’t help but laugh along with them, the sound coming easier than it has in weeks. It feels good, like a small piece of the puzzle that is your life is clicking back into place. The breakfast stretches longer than you expected, the food mostly forgotten as the four of you talk and joke like old times.

Eventually, though, the clock on the wall chimes, reminding Soobin that he has to go. He glances at it and sighs, reluctantly pushing his chair back.

“I should head out,” he says, looking a bit regretful. “Work and all that.”

You nod, feeling a pang of disappointment that surprises you. “Yeah, of course. Thanks for coming over.”

Soobin smiles at you, and this time, it reaches his eyes. “Anytime, Y/N. I’m really glad you’re back.”

“Me too,” you say softly, and you mean it.

He says his goodbyes to your parents, who wave him off with promises to invite him over for dinner soon. Ryujin walks him to the door, but not before giving you a knowing look over her shoulder.

Once he’s gone, the house feels a little quieter, a little emptier, though the warmth from breakfast still lingers. Beomgyu leans back in his chair, stretching with a contented sigh.

“Well, that was nice,” he says, then gives you a teasing smile. “You and Soobin seemed to get along pretty well, huh?”

You roll your eyes, though your cheeks flush slightly. “Shut up, Beomgyu.”

“Come on, he’s just teasing,” Ryujin says, returning to the kitchen with a satisfied grin. “It was nice seeing you two together again. Felt like old times.”

You smile, though there’s a lot left unsaid. “Yeah, it did.”

The sun hangs low in the sky as you make your way back home, the weight of the grocery bags in your hands grounding you in the moment. The streets of your hometown are quieter now, bathed in the soft hues of evening, and the familiarity of it all is both comforting and unsettling. You pass by houses you know so well, each one holding memories from a time when life felt simpler.

When you reach your house, you notice a familiar figure standing on a ladder just outside the front door. Soobin is there, fiddling with a light fixture, his tall frame stretched to its limit as he tries to reach the wiring. You pause for a moment, watching him, a mix of amusement and curiosity bubbling up inside you.

As if sensing your presence, Soobin glances down and catches your eye, a grin spreading across his face. “Back already? I thought I had more time to finish this before you got home.”

“Guess I’m faster than you thought,” you reply, smirking as you walk up to the door. “What are you doing, anyway? Isn’t that light Beomgyu’s job?”

Soobin scoffs, shaking his head as he returns to his work. “Beomgyu can barely change a light bulb without breaking something. Your mom called me over. Said this thing’s been flickering for weeks.”

You chuckle, knowing all too well how disastrous Beomgyu can be with household tasks. “Yeah, that sounds about right. I’m surprised you’re the one she called, though.”

Soobin shrugs, still focused on the light. “She knows I’m good at this stuff. And I guess I can’t say no to her.”

You stand there for a moment, watching as he works. There’s something oddly satisfying about seeing him like this, so at ease with himself, even in the small, mundane task of fixing a light. It’s a stark contrast to the image of him you had in your mind all those years in Seoul, where he was just a memory, something to miss in quiet moments.

Finally, he finishes up, stepping down from the ladder and giving the light a final check. “There. All fixed,” he announces, wiping his hands on his jeans.

“Impressive,” you tease, leaning against the doorframe. “But you missed a spot.”

Soobin’s eyes narrow playfully. “Where?”

You point to a random spot on the light, smirking as he follows your finger. “Right there.”

He rolls his eyes when he realizes you’re messing with him. “Very funny, Y/N.”

You laugh, pushing off the doorframe. “You’re welcome. Now, help me with these groceries.”

He obliges, taking a few of the heavier bags from your hands as you both head inside. The house is warm and cozy, the smells of dinner already wafting through the air. Your mom calls out a greeting from the kitchen, but it’s clear she’s busy with preparations.

You and Soobin head to the living room, where you set the bags down on the coffee table. The room is quiet, save for the occasional clatter of dishes from the kitchen, and it’s strange being alone with him again, after all this time.

“So, how long are you staying?” Soobin asks casually, breaking the silence as he takes a seat on the couch.

You hesitate, knowing that question has been on the tip of everyone’s tongues since you arrived. “I’m not sure yet. I guess it depends.”

“Depends on what?” he asks, genuinely curious.

You shrug, avoiding his gaze. “A lot of things.”

He watches you for a moment, as if he’s trying to figure you out, then changes the subject. “You still remember how to cook, right? Or do I need to take over in the kitchen?”

You scoff, grabbing the bag of vegetables and heading to the kitchen. “Please, I’ve been living on my own for years. I’m pretty sure I know how to chop a few vegetables.”

Soobin follows you, leaning against the counter as you start to unpack the groceries. “Just checking. You never know, city life might’ve turned you into one of those takeout-only types.”

“Not a chance,” you say, setting a cutting board on the counter and grabbing a knife. “But thanks for the concern.”

He smirks, watching as you begin slicing the vegetables with practiced ease. “I’m impressed. Maybe you have changed.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “You’re the one who’s changed, not me. I never would’ve pegged you as the handy type.”

He laughs softly. “People can surprise you.”

The two of you fall into an easy rhythm, exchanging banter as you prepare dinner. It feels almost like old times, the bickering and teasing coming naturally, even after all the years apart. But there’s an underlying tension, a sense that there’s more to say, more to ask.

As you chop up the last of the vegetables, Soobin clears his throat, the casual tone of the conversation shifting slightly. “So, uh… are you still with that guy? Daehyun, or something?” he hesitates when saying his name, like he can’t quite remember it, but it sounds almost as if he can exactly remember.

Your hands freeze for a moment, the knife hovering over the cutting board. You knew this question would come eventually, but you hadn’t expected it so soon, or so directly. You glance at Soobin, who’s watching you with a mix of curiosity and something else you can’t quite place.

“No,” you say quietly, resuming your chopping at a slower pace. “We… broke up.”

Soobin’s brow furrows in concern. “Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” you interrupt, forcing a smile as you set the knife down. “It was… a long time coming, I guess.”

He nods slowly, clearly trying to choose his words carefully. “What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”

You take a deep breath, debating how much to tell him. You haven’t even told your parents the whole truth, not wanting to worry them more than necessary. But with Soobin, it feels different—like maybe you owe him at least some of the truth.

“It just… wasn’t working out,” you say, leaning against the counter and crossing your arms. “We wanted different things. Or rather, he wanted something I couldn’t give him.”

Soobin’s gaze softens, and you can tell he’s piecing it together, but he doesn’t push. “Sounds like he was an idiot.”

You let out a small, humorless laugh. “Maybe. Or maybe I was the idiot for sticking around as long as I did.”

He shakes his head, his expression turning serious. “You’re not an idiot, Y/N. Sometimes things just don’t work out, no matter how much you want them to.”

You meet his eyes, feeling a lump form in your throat. “Yeah. I just wish I’d figured that out sooner.”

The room falls into a comfortable silence, Soobin’s presence a steadying force as you let the weight of your words settle between you. It’s not the whole story, not by a long shot, but it’s more than you’ve told anyone else. And for now, that’s enough.

“Well,” Soobin says after a moment, his tone lighter as he pushes off the counter, “if you ever need someone to talk to, or someone to make fun of, you know where to find me.”

You smile, genuinely this time. “Thanks, Soobin. I appreciate that.”

He grins, that easy, familiar smile that you’ve missed more than you realized. “Anytime, Y/N.”

As you both continue preparing dinner, the conversation shifts back to lighter topics, the tension between you easing into something more comfortable, more familiar. It’s strange how quickly you’ve fallen back into this dynamic, but it’s also comforting in a way you didn’t expect.

And you allow yourself to think for a moment that maybe being back home wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be.

The next couple of weeks pass in a blur of small-town rhythms, a stark contrast to the constant noise and motion of Seoul. You find yourself falling back into old routines, hanging out with Ryujin, spending time with your family, and catching up with Soobin. It’s comforting, in a way, but also unsettling—like you’re living in a strange limbo, where everything is familiar but slightly off-kilter.

Ryujin is a constant presence, as she always was, dragging you out of the house whenever she can. Whether it’s to grab a coffee, take a walk around the neighborhood, or just sit and gossip like you used to in high school, she’s there, her energy relentless. She never pushes you to talk about why you came home, though. She’s content to let you come to her when you’re ready, and for that, you’re grateful.

Your parents, on the other hand, aren’t as subtle. Your mom, especially, hovers more than usual, her concern evident in the way she keeps asking if you’re okay, if you need anything, if there’s something you want to talk about. You deflect with practiced ease, reassuring her that you’re fine, that you just needed a break from the city. She seems to accept it, but you can tell she’s not convinced.

Soobin is around often, whether he’s coming over to help with something around the house or just hanging out with you and Beomgyu. You fall back into an easy friendship with him, the teasing and bickering coming naturally, just like it always did. But there’s something different now, a tension that lingers beneath the surface, something neither of you acknowledges but both of you feel.

It’s on one of these typical days that Soobin invites you out for dinner with some of his coworkers. “It’ll be fun,” he promises as the two of you lounge in the living room, flipping through TV channels. “They’re a good group. Plus, I could use someone to keep me in check.”

You raise an eyebrow, amused. “Since when do you need someone to keep you in check?”

Soobin grins. “Since I started working with these guys. They like to drink. A lot.”

You laugh, but you agree to go. The thought of getting out of the house, doing something different, is appealing. Plus, you’re curious to meet the people Soobin spends his time with these days.

That night, you find yourself in a cozy, bustling restaurant, surrounded by Soobin and his coworkers. They’re a lively bunch, full of jokes and stories, and it doesn’t take long for you to feel at ease with them. The drinks start flowing almost as soon as you sit down, and before long, the whole group is in high spirits.

You find yourself laughing more than you have in weeks, the warmth of the alcohol spreading through your veins as you listen to Soobin’s coworkers tell ridiculous stories about him. Soobin, for his part, takes it all in stride, grinning sheepishly as his friends poke fun at him.

At some point, the conversation turns to confessions—nothing too serious, just silly admissions brought on by the alcohol. One of Soobin’s coworkers, a guy named Jisoo, starts it off, confessing that he once got caught sneaking into his girlfriend’s house by her parents, who thought he was a burglar. The table erupts in laughter, and soon everyone’s sharing their own embarrassing stories.

When it’s Soobin’s turn, he hesitates, glancing at you with a mischievous grin. “Alright, but you can’t judge me too harshly, okay?”

You raise your glass, already giggling. “No promises.”

He rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips. “Fine. So… back in high school, I had the biggest crush on someone, and I spent an entire year pretending to be terrible at math just so she’d tutor me.”

The table bursts into laughter, but the alcohol and thoughts in your mind start suddenly swirling around rapidly. Didn’t you give him algebra lessons in 10th grade? Maybe he’s talking about someone else…

“Did it work?” someone asks.

Soobin shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “I passed algebra, didn’t I?”

The laughter continues, and you feel a strange warmth in your chest, and his added comment only continues to make your mind race. The night goes on, and the drinks keep coming, until you’re all a little too tipsy, the world spinning just enough to make everything feel surreal. The drinks have taken off the edge about Soobin’s comments, for a little while at least.

At some point, Soobin leans in close, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers, “You know, I really did have a crush on you back then.”

You blink, surprised by the sudden confession, but before you can respond, he pulls back, his eyes a little unfocused as he gives you a lopsided grin. “Too much to drink, huh?”

You smile softly, your heart pounding in your chest. “I guess so,” you breath out, the word increasing its spinning around you but you’re not convinced it’s because of the alcohol anymore.

He chuckles, but there’s a vulnerability in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. “Maybe.”

The moment hangs between you, charged with an intensity that’s almost too much to bear. But before anything else can happen, Soobin’s head lolls to the side, his eyes slipping shut as he mumbles something incoherent.

“Great,” you mutter, half-amused, half-exasperated as you try to shake him awake. “Soobin, come on, don’t pass out on me now.”

But he’s out cold, his breathing steady as he slumps against the table. You sigh, realizing there’s no way you’re getting him home by yourself. With a resigned smile, you pull out your phone and call Beomgyu.

He answers on the second ring, sounding more amused than concerned when you explain the situation. “Of course, he passed out. Why am I not surprised?”

“Just hurry up and get over here,” you say, rolling your eyes. “I can’t carry him by myself.”

Beomgyu arrives a short while later, looking entirely too amused by the situation as he takes in the sight of Soobin slumped over the table. “Wow, he’s really out, huh?”

“Yeah,” you say, trying not to laugh as you stand up. “Think you can handle him?”

Beomgyu snorts. “Do I have a choice?”

With some effort, the two of you manage to get Soobin on his feet, though he’s mostly dead weight, mumbling incoherently as you half-drag, half-carry him out of the restaurant. The fresh air hits you like a shock, clearing your head just enough to realize how ridiculous this all is.

“This is a disaster,” you mutter, struggling to keep Soobin upright as Beomgyu does most of the heavy lifting.

Beomgyu chuckles. “It’s a disaster you walked right into.”

Before long, you realize that even with Beomgyu’s help, getting Soobin all the way back home is going to be nearly impossible. You try to be optimistic, but when Soobin starts to slip from your grasp, you realize you need reinforcements.

“I think we need to call Ryujin,” you admit reluctantly, pulling out your phone again.

Beomgyu groans. “Do we have to?”

You can’t help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation hitting you all at once. “We don’t have a choice, Gyu. I can barely keep him up, and you’re not exactly faring much better.”

Reluctantly, Beomgyu agrees, and you call Ryujin, who answers after a few rings, sounding half-asleep but entirely too eager to hear about your predicament. After a quick explanation, she promises to be there in a few minutes.

When Ryujin arrives, she takes one look at the situation and bursts out laughing. “Oh my God, I knew you two couldn’t handle this on your own.”

“Not helping, Ryujin,” Beomgyu grumbles, though there’s a smile on his face.

Together, the three of you somehow manage to get Soobin back to his place, collapsing into a heap of laughter and exhaustion once he’s safely on his bed. By then, the humor of the situation has fully set in, and you’re all giggling uncontrollably, the night’s events replaying in your minds.

Finally, when the laughter dies down, Ryujin nudges you playfully. “So, what was that about Soobin confessing his high school crush?”

Your cheeks flush, and you try to deflect, but Ryujin is relentless, teasing you mercilessly as Beomgyu joins in. It’s all in good fun, though, and you can’t help but feel a warmth in your chest, a sense of belonging that you’ve missed more than you realized.

Eventually, the night winds down, and you all head home, leaving Soobin to sleep off his hangover. As you climb into bed, you can’t help but replay the night’s events in your mind, the memory of Soobin’s confession lingering in your thoughts.

It’s been a long time since you felt this way, and despite everything that’s happened, you can’t help but wonder what the future might hold.

You wake up to a dull throb in your head, the remnants of last night's drinks still pulsing behind your temples. Your room is far too bright, and you curse yourself for not closing the curtains before collapsing into bed.

You glance at the clock on your nightstand. It’s already late morning, far later than you usually sleep, but considering the amount you drank last night, it’s a miracle you’re awake at all. Groggily, you swing your legs out of bed and stand, feeling the slight wobble in your knees as your body adjusts to being upright.

The house is quiet as you pad downstairs, the wooden steps creaking softly under your weight. The smell of coffee hits you as you enter the kitchen, and you sigh in relief. Your parents must already be up. Sure enough, you find a pot of freshly brewed coffee on the counter, a few mugs stacked neatly beside it. You pour yourself a cup, cradling it between your hands as you savor the warmth seeping into your skin.

After a few sips, you feel more human, the caffeine doing its job. Now that you’re awake and somewhat functional, you start rifling through the fridge and pantry, searching for the ingredients you need. You’ve made hangover soup enough times to know the recipe by heart, and it isn’t long before you have everything laid out on the counter.

As the soup simmers on the stove, filling the kitchen with its comforting aroma, you smile to yourself. Soobin is in for a rude awakening, but you know he’ll appreciate it in the end. With that thought in mind, you grab a spoon and taste the broth, nodding in satisfaction at the flavor.

Once the soup is done, you ladle it into a bowl, then take a deep breath and head to the house across from your own, belonging to the Choi’s. You knock lightly on the door at first, then a bit louder when you don’t hear any response. A moment later, Soobin’s mom opens the door, a surprised smile on her face.

“Y/N! What a lovely surprise,” she says warmly, stepping aside to let you in. “I didn’t expect to see you this early. How are you feeling?”

“Morning, Mrs. Choi,” you greet her with a smile. “I’m okay, just a little hungover. I figured Soobin might need this more than I do, though.”

She glances down at the bowl in your hands and chuckles. “Hangover soup? You’re such a thoughtful girl. He’s still asleep, of course, but I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

You step inside, the familiar scent of the house comforting in a way that makes you feel instantly at ease. “I’m going to wake him up now,” you say, feeling a little mischievous. “He’s had enough sleep.”

“Good luck with that,” Mrs. Choi says with a knowing smile. “He can be a bit grumpy in the mornings, especially after a night out.”

You grin. “I’m counting on it.”

Heading upstairs, you push open Soobin’s bedroom door with your hip, balancing the bowl in one hand. The room is dark, the curtains drawn tightly shut, and Soobin is sprawled out on his bed, completely dead to the world. He’s lying on his stomach, one arm dangling off the side of the bed, his hair a tousled mess.

You set the bowl down on his nightstand, taking a moment to appreciate how peaceful he looks when he’s sleeping. But only a moment. You can’t resist. Reaching out, you grab his pillow and whack him over the head with it—not too hard, but enough to jolt him awake.

He groans, a low sound of protest, but doesn’t move. So you hit him again, a little harder this time, just for good measure.

“Soobin, get up!” you say, your voice tinged with amusement. “I made you breakfast.”

He mumbles something incoherent, burying his face deeper into the pillow. You roll your eyes, leaning down to speak directly into his ear.

“Choi Soobin, if you don’t get up right now, I’m going to eat all this soup myself.”

That seems to do the trick. He slowly lifts his head, squinting at you through bleary eyes. “Y/N? What… what time is it?”

“Time for you to wake up and eat,” you reply, smirking. “Come on, I’ve got hangover soup ready. You need it.”

Soobin groans again but finally drags himself into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes. He looks terrible—pale, with dark circles under his eyes, his hair sticking up in all directions—but you have to admit, there’s something endearing about seeing him like this. Vulnerable, almost.

“Ugh, my head is killing me,” he mutters, wincing as he swings his legs over the side of the bed.

“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you drink like a fish,” you tease, forcing him up and down the stairs.

Once seated at the table, you pour him a bowl of soup before placing it down in front of him. “Here, this will help.”

He takes the bowl from you, staring down at it like it’s a lifeline. “You’re a lifesaver,” he says, his voice thick with gratitude.

“I know,” you reply with a grin, sitting down in front of him. “Now eat up before it gets cold.”

Soobin takes a tentative sip, then another, his expression softening as the warm broth soothes his hangover. “This is really good,” he mumbles between spoonfuls.

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” you say, your tone light but with an undercurrent of truth. You’ve made this soup more times than you can count, for yourself, for friends… for your ex. But you push that thought away before it can take root, focusing instead on Soobin.

As he eats, you chat idly about nothing in particular, keeping the conversation light. Soobin slowly comes back to life, the soup and your presence working their magic. He’s still a bit pale, but at least he’s awake and functional now.

Just as he’s finishing up, you hear footsteps approaching from the hallway, and a moment later, Soobin’s mom pokes her head into the room.

“How’s our patient?” she asks with a smile, looking between the two of you.

“He’s alive,” you reply, grinning at Soobin’s unamused expression. “Barely.”

Another set of footsteps sound in the hall behind as Soobin’s father suddenly appears, his face a mix of surprise and happiness as he spots his son and yourself seated at the kitchen table. Soobin’s mom has moved into the kitchen behind you now, getting started on breakfast.

“Y/N! I didn’t expect to see you this morning,” he says warmly. “How are you?”

“I’m good, Mr. Choi,” you reply, returning his smile. “Just thought I’d check on Soobin and make sure he was still alive.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, it’s a good thing you did. He always overdoes it when he goes out with his coworkers.”

“Morning, Dad,” Soobin mumbles, reaching for a piece of toast as his mother immediately sets the plate down on the table.

“Morning, son,” Mr. Choi replies, his tone amused. “Rough night?”

“You could say that,” Soobin mutters, shooting you a glare when you snicker. “Don’t think it was much for for Y/N either,” he responds, an amused smirk flashing upon his lips as he swiftly avoids your kick from underneath the table.

As you all start eating breakfast, the conversation flows easily, punctuated by laughter and light teasing. You’ve always felt comfortable around Soobin’s parents—they’ve known you since you were a kid, after all—and it feels good to be here, surrounded by the warmth of family, even if it’s not your own.

“So, Y/N,” Mrs. Choi says at one point, turning to you with a curious expression. “How long are you planning to stay in town this time?”

You pause, the question catching you off guard. You haven’t really thought that far ahead, and the uncertainty of your answer weighs heavily on your mind.

“Um, I’m not sure yet,” you reply honestly, forcing a small smile. “I’m just taking things one day at a time.”

Mrs. Choi nods understandingly, reaching out to pat your hand. “That’s perfectly fine, dear. You’re always welcome here, you know that.”

“Thank you,” you say, genuinely touched by her kindness. “That means a lot.”

The conversation shifts after that, and you’re grateful for it. As much as you appreciate the Choi family’s concern, you’re not ready to delve into the reasons behind your return just yet.

As breakfast winds down, Soobin stands up to clear the table, but you’re not about to let him off the hook that easily. When he passes by you with a stack of plates, you subtly stick your foot out, and before he realizes what’s happening, he trips, stumbling forward with a startled yelp.

He catches himself before he falls, but not without glaring at you, his eyes narrowed in mock anger. “Really?”

You flash him an innocent smile. “What? I didn’t do anything.”

His parents watch the exchange with amused smiles, clearly enjoying the banter between the two of you. “Careful, Y/N,” Mr. Choi says with a chuckle. “He might actually get you back for that one.”

You laugh, already stepping out of Soobin’s reach as he finishes clearing the table. “He can try,” you say, still grinning.

Soobin just shakes his head, clearly exasperated, but you can see the fondness in his eyes as he glances at you. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re predictable,” you retort, dodging under his arm as he reaches out to flick your forehead.

The rest of the morning passes in a haze of laughter and lighthearted teasing. After breakfast, you help Soobin’s mom with the dishes, the two of you chatting about everything and nothing. Soobin joins in occasionally, but mostly, he just listens from his stance half standing and half supporting his weight on the kitchen counter, still recovering from last night’s blackout.

For a while, it feels like nothing has changed, like you’ve slipped back into the easy life you’ve always had with Soobin and his family. It’s a comforting thought, one that brings a sense of peace you haven’t felt in a long time. And one that allows you to forget about what Soobin said last night, for just a moment.

As you finish up the last of the dishes, you glance over at Soobin, who’s lounging on the couch in the living room, his head resting on the back of the couch, eyes closed.

“You okay over there?” you call out, drying your hands on a dish towel.

He cracks one eye open, giving you a lazy smile. “Yeah, just trying to recover from the abuse you put me through this morning.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re such a drama queen.”

He just grins, not even bothering to argue. “Yeah, but you love it.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips. Maybe he’s right—maybe you do love this, being here with him, with his family. Maybe, just maybe, this is exactly what you needed.

The summer sun hangs low in the sky, casting long shadows across the quiet neighborhood. You sit at the kitchen table, absently stirring a cup of tea that’s long since gone cold. The house feels still, too still, as if it’s holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. You’ve managed to avoid any serious conversations with your mom since you returned home, but time has eventually caught up to you.

Your mom enters the room, wiping her hands on a dish towel. She glances at you, then at the untouched tea, her brow furrowing slightly. “Y/N, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you lie, offering her a small smile that doesn’t reach your eyes.

She doesn’t buy it. Of course, she doesn’t. She’s your mother, after all. She sighs, crossing the room to sit across from you, her gaze gentle but probing. “You’ve been back for weeks now, and you still haven’t told us what really happened in Seoul. You left so suddenly, without any explanation. Your father and I… we’re worried about you, sweetheart.”

You swallow hard, the knot in your throat tightening. You knew this was coming, but that doesn’t make it any easier. “Mom, I just… I needed a break. Things weren’t going well, and I thought it would be good to come home for a while.”

Her eyes narrow slightly, sensing the evasiveness in your tone. “Not going well? You mean with your job? Or… was it something else?” She pauses, her voice softening further. “Y/N, was it Daehyun?”

The mention of him sends a pang through your chest, but you force yourself to stay composed. “We broke up,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. It’s technically the truth, even if it’s not the whole story.

Your mom’s expression shifts, a mix of concern and confusion crossing her features. “You broke up? Why? I thought you two were serious. You were always talking about him, about how he was the one.”

You look down at your hands, fingers twisting in your lap. “We were serious. But… things change, Mom. We just weren’t right for each other anymore.”

She shakes her head, clearly not satisfied with that answer. “What do you mean, ‘not right for each other’? Did something happen? Did he do something?”

You shake your head quickly, too quickly. “No, it wasn’t like that. We just… grew apart, I guess. It happens.”

Your mom’s eyes narrow further, the doubt clear in her gaze. “Grew apart? That doesn’t sound like a reason to just up and leave everything behind. You quit your job, Y/N. You loved that job. You loved your life in Seoul. And now you’re telling me you threw it all away because of some vague ‘growing apart’?”

“Mom, please,” you plead, your voice shaking. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

But she doesn’t relent. “You can’t just run away from your problems, Y/N. If something happened, you need to face it. You need to tell me what’s really going on.”

“I told you, we broke up!” you snap, your patience wearing thin. “I needed to get away, so I came home. That’s it.”

Your mom’s frustration finally boils over. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say? You broke up, so you threw your entire life away? You’re being ridiculous, Y/N! You had everything going for you—your career, your relationship—and you just walked away without a second thought?”

“I didn’t have a choice!” you yell, the words spilling out before you can stop them. But you can’t take them back now, and the look of shock on your mom’s face only fuels the anger burning inside you. “You don’t understand, Mom. You don’t know what it was like.”

“Then help me understand!” she shouts back, standing up from the table. “You can’t just expect us to sit here and watch you fall apart without knowing why!”

Tears sting your eyes, but you blink them back, refusing to let them fall. “I didn’t fall apart,” you say through gritted teeth. “I’m fine. I’m trying to move on, and you’re not making it any easier.”

“Move on?” she scoffs. “You’re not moving on, Y/N. You’re running away, and you’re dragging us into it with you. You can’t just quit when things get tough. That’s not how life works!”

The dam finally breaks, and the tears spill over, hot and angry. “I was miserable for so long!” you cry, pushing back from the table. “You don’t know what I went through, and you never will because I can’t—” You choke on the words, unable to finish the sentence.

Your mom’s expression softens slightly, but the anger is still there, simmering beneath the surface. “Y/N, whatever it is, you can tell me. I’m your mother. I just want to help you.”

But the anger has taken hold of you now, and you can’t stop the words from tumbling out. “I can’t! You’ll never understand what it’s like to have your whole world ripped apart by someone you thought you could trust!”

Her face pales, the realization dawning on her as she finally grasps the gravity of what you’re saying. “Y/N… what did he do to you?”

You can’t answer. The words are stuck in your throat, choking you as the pain of it all comes rushing back. You can’t tell her the truth, can’t bear to see the look of pity and disappointment in her eyes.

Without another word, you turn and bolt for the door, the need to escape overwhelming. You can hear your mom calling after you, but you don’t stop. You can’t stop. You burst out of the house, tears blurring your vision as you run down the driveway.

And that’s when you run straight into someone, nearly knocking them over. You stumble back, wiping at your eyes to see who it is.

Soobin stands there, his expression a mix of shock and concern. He’s holding a small basket, likely something his mom sent him over with, but he’s clearly forgotten all about it as he stares at you.

“Y/N? What happened?” he asks, his voice soft, like he’s afraid you’ll break if he speaks too loudly.

You shake your head, trying to brush past him, but he gently grabs your arm, stopping you. “Wait, just… slow down. Talk to me.”

You can’t. You can’t talk to him, can’t even look at him without feeling like you’re going to fall apart. But the gentleness in his voice, the warmth in his touch, it’s too much. You can’t hold it in any longer.

You sprint down the street, the sound of your mother’s angry words still echoing in your ears. Your vision blurs with tears as you race toward the park, the one that sits just at the edge of the neighborhood where you spent so many summers playing with Beomgyu, Soobin, and Ryujin. It feels like you’re running from more than just the fight—like you’re running from everything you’ve been trying to hold together since you came back home.

The park is quiet, almost eerily so. The swings sway gently in the evening breeze, the only movement in the otherwise still space. You stumble to a stop by the playground, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you collapse onto the sidewalk, your legs unable to carry you any farther. Hugging your knees to your chest, you finally let the tears fall, your sobs quiet but intense, the weight of everything you’ve been bottling up crashing down on you all at once.

You don’t hear him approaching, but you sense Soobin before you see him, the sound of his hurried footsteps catching your attention. He’s out of breath, clearly having run after you the moment you bolted from the house. He doesn’t say anything at first, just stops a few feet away, his eyes searching your face with a mix of concern and sadness.

“Y/N…” he starts softly, taking a cautious step closer. “Come on… What happened back there?”

You don’t answer right away, too overwhelmed to speak. But Soobin doesn’t push. He just sinks down onto the sidewalk beside you, his presence solid and steady, like a lifeline you didn’t know you needed. The silence between you stretches, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s like he’s giving you the space to find your words, to figure out what to say.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you take a shaky breath and start talking. “I left because of him,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “My boyfriend… my ex. He cheated on me.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with pain and betrayal. You can feel Soobin tense beside you, his hands curling into fists on his knees. But he stays quiet, letting you continue at your own pace.

“I found out a few months ago,” you say, your voice trembling as the memories flood back. “He’d been seeing someone else for weeks, maybe longer. I don’t even know how long it was going on. I just… I couldn’t stay after that. I couldn’t be around him, or our friends, or… or anything that reminded me of him. So, I left.”

The tears come harder now, spilling down your cheeks as you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to block out the images of him with someone else, the lies he told you, the way everything fell apart so quickly. “I quit my job because I couldn’t focus. I couldn’t do anything without thinking about him, about what he did. I felt like I was drowning, and I didn’t know how to keep going. I didn’t sleep or eat for days at a time. I wasn’t taking care of myself and… well it was either this or me going completely under. So, I ran away. I thought if I came back here, if I was with my family, I could start over. But it’s not that simple. It’s never that simple.”

Your voice cracks, the weight of everything you’ve been carrying finally too much to bear. You can’t hold it together anymore. The sobs wrack your body, and you bury your face in your hands, feeling utterly broken.

Soobin doesn’t say anything, but you feel his arm wrap around your shoulders, pulling you close. He holds you tightly, his grip firm and reassuring as he lets you cry into his chest. His other hand rubs soothing circles on your back, his touch gentle but grounding, like he’s trying to anchor you to the present, to keep you from getting lost in the storm of your emotions.

“You didn’t deserve that,” he says quietly, his voice rough with emotion. “None of this is your fault, Y/N. You did what you had to do to survive. Don’t ever feel ashamed of that.”

You want to believe him, want to take comfort in his words, but it’s hard. The pain is still so raw, so overwhelming. But being here with Soobin, feeling his warmth, his steady presence, it helps. It makes the hurt just a little more bearable.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, the words barely making it past your lips.

“What are you sorry for?” Soobin asks, his tone soft and confused.

“For everything,” you say, your voice shaking. “For not telling anyone, for shutting everyone out. For being so weak. I just didn’t want to be looked at like that girl anymore. I don’t think I can take it.”

“Hey,” Soobin says, gently tilting your chin up so you’re forced to meet his gaze. “You’re not weak. You’re one of the strongest people I know. You’ve been through hell, and you’re still standing. That’s not weakness, Y/N. That’s strength.”

His words hit you hard, the sincerity in his eyes making it impossible to dismiss them. He means it—he really believes you’re strong, even when you don’t believe it yourself.

You nod, swallowing hard as you try to calm your breathing, your tears finally slowing. It’s not much, but it’s enough for now. Enough to make you feel a little less alone, a little less like you’re drowning.

“Thank you,” you whisper, leaning into his embrace, letting yourself take comfort in his presence.

Soobin just squeezes you a little tighter, resting his chin on top of your head. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m here, Y/N. I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

You stay like that for a while, the two of you sitting on the sidewalk in the quiet park, the world around you fading into the background. For the first time in a long time, you feel like you can breathe again, like the weight on your chest has lifted just a little.

Eventually, you pull back slightly, wiping at your tear-streaked face. Soobin watches you with that familiar mix of concern and fondness, his eyes soft as he takes in your expression.

“Do you want to go back?” he asks gently, nodding toward the direction of your house. “Or we can stay here for a bit longer if you need more time.”

You glance around the park, the memories of your childhood flooding back in a rush of nostalgia. This place has always been a refuge for you, a place where you felt safe. And now, with Soobin by your side, it still feels that way.

“Maybe just a little longer,” you say quietly, your voice steadier now. “I’m not ready to face her yet.”

He nods in understanding, his hand finding yours and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

And with that, the two of you sit in the fading light, side by side, the comforting silence between you speaking more than words ever could.

The weeks that follow your tearful confession in the park pass in a blur of change and acceptance. You finally muster the courage to tell your family the whole story, no longer holding back the pain and betrayal you’d been carrying alone. Your mother, after her initial shock and anger, softens as she listens to the truth of what happened in Seoul. The harsh words you exchanged that night seem distant now, replaced by an understanding that’s long overdue.

Your father, though quiet during your confession, offers you a comforting hug afterward, his voice filled with warmth as he reassures you that you’re home, and that’s what matters. Beomgyu is the easiest to talk to—his playful teasing makes it easier to break the tension, and soon, you find yourself laughing with him like old times.

Telling Ryujin is harder. You’ve always been able to rely on her, but admitting how broken you felt, even to your best friend, is difficult. But Ryujin listens without judgment, her eyes filled with the fierce loyalty you’ve always admired in her. When you finish, she wraps you in a tight hug and tells you that you’re stronger than you think, and that she’s proud of you for coming home.

As the days turn into weeks, you start to accept that Gwangcheon is where you’re going to be for a while. It’s not Seoul, but there’s a comfort in the familiar streets, the warm smiles of the people you’ve known your whole life, and the gentle pace of small-town living.

With Soobin’s help, and through one of his friends, you land a job at a good company nearby. It’s not the high-powered position you left behind in Seoul, but it’s steady work, and you find yourself gradually falling into a new routine. Your days become a mix of work, spending time with your family, and reconnecting with old friends.

The more time you spend with Soobin, Ryujin, and Beomgyu, the more you start to feel like yourself again. You laugh more easily, the pain of your past starting to dull as the present takes over. You’re still cautious, still a little guarded, but the walls you built around yourself are slowly coming down.

As summer draws to a close, Ryujin suggests a trip to a nearby beach town for a late summer getaway. It’s been a while since you’ve done something spontaneous, and the idea of a weekend away with your closest friends is too tempting to resist.

The four of you—Ryujin, Beomgyu, Soobin, and you—pile into Beomgyu’s car early one Saturday morning, the air filled with excitement as you drive toward the coast. The weather is perfect, the sun shining brightly in a cloudless sky, and the anticipation of a carefree weekend ahead makes everything feel lighter.

When you arrive, the small beach town is bustling with tourists, the streets lined with colorful shops and restaurants. You check into a charming seaside inn, your room offering a stunning view of the ocean. The salty breeze and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore immediately put you at ease.

For the first day, you decide to hit the beach. You slip into a light, flowing sundress with thin straps that tie at your shoulders, the fabric swaying gently in the breeze. It’s a pale yellow, the color brightening your complexion.

The four of you spend the day lounging on the sand, swimming in the crystal-clear water, and playing beach volleyball. Beomgyu and Soobin are a hilarious team, their competitive streaks coming out in full force, while you and Ryujin try to keep up, laughing so hard you can barely hit the ball back.

As the sun begins to set, you take a walk along the shoreline with Soobin. The air is cooler now, and you’ve changed into a pair of denim shorts and a loose, sleeveless top that flutters in the breeze. Soobin, in his usual casual style, wears a plain white T-shirt and board shorts. The two of you walk in comfortable silence for a while, the waves gently lapping at your feet.

“I’m glad you came,” Soobin says quietly, breaking the silence. He glances at you, his expression soft in the fading light. “I’ve missed this… missed us hanging out like this.”

“Me too,” you reply, your heart skipping a beat at the sincerity in his voice. “It’s nice to just… be. No pressure, no expectations. Just us.”

There’s a pause, and then you both stop walking, turning to face each other. The tension between you has been growing stronger with each passing day, and it’s undeniable now. You notice the way his eyes linger on you, how his hand brushes against yours as you stand there, the space between you shrinking with every breath.

“Soobin…” you start, but you don’t know how to finish the sentence. You’re not sure what you want to say—what you need to say.

He looks at you, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, with a small smile, he reaches out and gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers grazing your cheek. The touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you feel your heart racing in your chest.

“I’m here, Y/N,” he says softly, his voice steady and sure. “Whenever you’re ready, I’m here.”

The moment is so charged, so full of potential, that it feels like time has stopped. You find yourself leaning into him, drawn to the comfort and warmth he offers, but before anything more can happen, Ryujin’s voice calls out from the distance, breaking the spell.

You both step back, the tension between you still thick in the air, but the moment has passed. You force a smile, trying to shake off the nerves that are buzzing under your skin.

“We should head back,” you say, your voice a little too bright. “They’re probably wondering where we are.”

Soobin nods, and without another word, the two of you start walking back toward the inn. But even as you rejoin Ryujin and Beomgyu, the electricity between you and Soobin doesn’t fade. Instead, it lingers, a constant undercurrent that makes your heart beat just a little faster every time your eyes meet, every time your hands brush against each other.

That night, after a dinner filled with laughter and more teasing from Beomgyu and Ryujin, you find yourself sitting on the inn’s balcony with Soobin. The others have already gone to bed, exhausted from the day’s activities, but neither of you seems ready to end the night.

The stars are bright in the clear sky, and the sound of the waves is soothing as you sit together, wrapped in a shared blanket to ward off the evening chill. You’re wearing a soft, oversized sweater, and Soobin has a hoodie on, the two of you huddled close for warmth.

For a while, you talk about everything and nothing— jobs, childhood memories, the places they’d like to visit one day. But eventually, the conversation drifts to more personal matters.

“So… what’s next for you?” Soobin asks quietly, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “Now that you’re settling in, do you have any plans?”

You hesitate, not because you don’t know the answer, but because you’re afraid to voice it. “I’m not sure,” you admit. “I’ve been thinking about staying in Gwangcheon for a while, maybe longer than I originally planned. It’s… it’s starting to feel like home again.”

Soobin smiles at that, a warmth spreading through you at the sight. “I’m glad,” he says. “It’s good to have you back, Y/N. I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you reply softly, your heart swelling with emotion. There’s so much more you want to say, but the words get caught in your throat. Instead, you lean your head on his shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath under your cheek.

Soobin’s hand finds yours under the blanket, his fingers lacing with yours in a way that feels both familiar and new. The touch is comforting, grounding you in the moment. You sit like that for a long time, neither of you saying anything, just content to be close.

But as the night wears on, the tension between you becomes harder to ignore. Every time you shift slightly, your legs brushing against his, it feels like a spark of electricity zips through you. The quiet, intimate atmosphere only amplifies the connection that’s been building for weeks, and you can’t help but wonder if he feels it too.

Finally, you turn your head to look up at him, finding him already gazing down at you. The intensity in his eyes takes your breath away, and for a moment, you think he might kiss you. Your heart pounds in your chest, anticipation coiling tight in your stomach as you tilt your face up, waiting…

But just when it feels like something monumental is about to happen, Soobin pulls back slightly, his expression conflicted. He lets out a slow breath, breaking the moment. “We should get some sleep,” he murmurs, his voice husky.

You’re disappointed, but also relieved. You may have felt something for Soobin during your youth, but you had not expected any sort of remaining spark between the two of you upon moving back. It’s a mixture of conflicting feelings: comfort, fear, desire, and enough more to dizzy you.

But even as you part for the night, there’s an unspoken understanding between you— that this moment isn’t an ending but rather just a momentary pause.

The next morning, the four of you wake early to catch the sunrise on the beach. The air is crisp and cool, the sky painted in hues of pink and gold as the sun peeks over the horizon. You feel a sense of peace, standing there with your closest friends, the tension from the night before easing into something more hopeful.

As you pack up and head home later that day, you can’t help but feel like this trip was a turning point. For the first time in a long time, you’re looking forward to the future. And though you don’t know exactly where things with Soobin will go, you feel both compelled and terrified to find out.

The weeks after your beach getaway with Soobin, Ryujin, and Beomgyu pass in a blur of cozy evenings and lingering touches. The tension between you and Soobin has become almost palpable, an undercurrent that hums beneath every interaction. You find yourself gravitating toward him, seeking out his presence in ways that feel both natural and inevitable.

It starts with late-night talks, the two of you sitting on the porch of your house or his, wrapped in blankets as the night air grows cooler. The conversations are deep, touching on everything from your childhood dreams to the fears that keep you up at night. Soobin listens with a quiet intensity that makes you feel heard in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. Sometimes, when the conversation drifts to a comfortable lull, his hand will find yours, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin, and the simple touch sends shivers down your spine.

As fall begins to creep in, the annual town festival is the talk of Gwangcheon. It’s a tradition that dates back decades, a celebration of the harvest season with food stalls, games, and music that bring the whole town together. Despite Soobin’s protests about it being the “same old thing every year,” you manage to drag him along with you, promising that it will be fun.

“You say that every year,” Soobin grumbles as you walk through the festival grounds, his hand intertwined with yours. The evening air is crisp, carrying the scent of roasted chestnuts and spiced cider. “But it’s just a bunch of food stalls and cheesy games.”

You roll your eyes, nudging him playfully with your shoulder. “You’re such a grouch. Admit it, you secretly love this stuff.”

He huffs, but you catch the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Maybe I just like watching you get excited about it.”

You smile, your heart warming at the admission. The truth is, you do love the festival, not just for the nostalgia it brings but because it feels like a part of your roots—a reminder of the simpler times before everything got so complicated.

The festival is in full swing by the time you arrive. Strings of warm, twinkling lights hang overhead, and the sound of laughter and music fills the air. You and Soobin wander through the crowded streets, stopping at various stalls to sample local treats and play a few games. You end up with a small plush bear from a ring toss game, a prize that Soobin wins for you after several failed attempts.

“See? Told you this would be fun,” you say, beaming as you hug the bear to your chest.

Soobin just shakes his head, a soft smile playing on his lips as he watches you. “You’re impossible,” he mutters, but there’s no bite in his words.

As the night goes on, you run into Beomgyu and Ryujin near the center of the festival grounds, where a makeshift dance floor has been set up. The four of you spend some time chatting and catching up, reminiscing about past festivals and sharing updates on each other’s lives. The atmosphere is light and joyful, a perfect escape from the weight of everything else.

At one point, Ryujin drags you into a dance, the two of you twirling and laughing while Soobin and Beomgyu look on in amusement. It feels good to let go, to simply enjoy the moment without any worries.

Eventually, you and Soobin find yourselves walking hand in hand again, wandering away from the crowd to a quieter part of the festival. The lights are dimmer here, the sounds of the festivities fading into the background. You can feel the warmth of his hand in yours, the closeness between you more pronounced than ever.

“So… what’s the verdict?” you ask, glancing up at him with a teasing smile. “Still think the festival’s boring?”

He looks down at you, his gaze softening. “Maybe it’s not so bad,” he concedes, his thumb rubbing slow circles on the back of your hand. “But only because you’re here.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words, the tension between you thickening as you come to a stop. The moment feels charged, like something is about to happen, and you find yourself leaning in closer, your breath hitching as his eyes flicker to your lips.

But before either of you can move, a voice interrupts the moment, shattering the intimacy between you.

“Y/N?”

The sound of your name, spoken in that familiar, deep voice, makes you freeze. You turn slowly, your heart dropping into your stomach as you see him—your ex-boyfriend, standing just a few feet away.

He looks almost the same as he did the last time you saw him, tall and handsome with that same confident aura that used to draw you in. But now, all you feel is a cold dread pooling in your chest.

“Daehyun…” you breathe, barely able to get the word out.

His eyes flick from you to Soobin, who is still holding your hand, his expression hardening as he takes in the sight. There’s a tense silence, the air between the three of you crackling with unspoken words and unresolved feelings.

“So, this is why you left Seoul?” Daehyun’s voice is sharp, accusatory, as he steps closer. “To play house in some small town with your high school friend?”

Soobin stiffens beside you, his grip on your hand tightening. “Watch it,” he warns, his voice low and dangerous.

But Daehyun ignores him, his gaze fixed on you. “I thought we were going to work things out, Y/N. But instead, you just… ran away?”

You feel a pang of guilt, the old wounds reopening at his words. But then you remember why you left in the first place—the lies, the betrayal, the hurt he caused you. The memories flood back, and with them, a surge of anger and resolve.

“I didn’t run away, Daehyun,” you say, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you. “I left because you fucking cheated on me! Last time I checked, you didn’t want me anyway. Why are you even here?”

Daehyun’s expression falters, the confidence slipping for a moment. But then he scoffs, shaking his head and entirely avoiding your question. “You’re really going to throw away everything we had for… this?”

Before you can respond, Soobin steps in front of you, blocking Daehyun’s view. “She doesn’t owe you an explanation,” he says, his tone firm. “So why don’t you leave her alone?”

Before you can respond, Beomgyu and Ryujin arrive, their expressions shifting from carefree to protective in an instant as they assess the situation.

“Is there a problem here?” Beomgyu’s tone is light but laced with an underlying threat as he steps up beside Soobin, crossing his arms over his chest. Ryujin moves to your other side, her presence a comforting shield as she glares at Daehyun.

Daehyun scoffs, turning his attention back to you. “You’re really going to let them speak for you now? Is this what you’ve become?”

“Leave her alone, Daehyun,” Ryujin snaps, her eyes blazing with anger. “You’re not welcome here.”

For a moment, Daehyun looks like he might argue, but the combined glares of Soobin, Beomgyu, and Ryujin seem to weigh on him. He shakes his head, muttering something under his breath, and reluctantly takes a step back. “This isn’t worth it,” he mumbles, his gaze flickering to Soobin. “Have fun Y/N.”

With that, he finally turns and walks away, disappearing into the crowd, leaving a suffocating tension in his wake.

As soon as Daehyun is out of sight, the energy shifts. The air feels heavy, charged with everything left unsaid between you and Soobin. He stands there, his hand still resting on your shoulder, but the warmth that once comforted you now feels like a burning reminder of the distance that’s crept between you in just a few short moments.

You search his face for some kind of reassurance, something to tell you that everything is okay between you. But all you find is a flicker of something—regret, maybe?—in his eyes before he steps back, dropping his hand to his side.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he says quietly, his voice barely audible above the festival noise. He’s looking anywhere but at you, his usual confidence and ease replaced by a discomfort that twists painfully in your chest.

“Wait, Soobin, you don’t have to—” you start, reaching out to stop him, but he’s already shaking his head, taking another step back.

“I need to go,” he mutters, the words clipped and hurried. “I’ll… I’ll see you around.”

And with that, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing there with your hand half-raised, the words you wanted to say caught in your throat. You watch his retreating figure, your heart pounding in your ears as the reality of what just happened sinks in.

When he disappears from sight, the weight of it all crashes down on you. Your knees feel weak, and you stumble to the nearest bench, dropping onto it as the tears you’ve been holding back finally spill over. You bury your face in your hands, the sobs wracking your body as the emotions you’ve been trying so hard to keep in check burst free.

You’re so caught up in your grief that you don’t notice Ryujin and Beomgyu returning until Ryujin’s voice cuts through the fog of your thoughts.

“Y/N?” Ryujin’s voice is laced with concern as she kneels beside you, her hand rubbing gentle circles on your back.

Beomgyu stands awkwardly to the side, his usual playful demeanor replaced by a worried frown. “Y/N, you don’t have to cry over him,” he says, trying to sound comforting. “Daehyun’s not worth it.”

You shake your head, unable to find the words to correct them. They think you’re crying because of Daehyun, that seeing him brought all the pain of your breakup to the surface. But it’s not Daehyun you’re crying over—it’s Soobin. It’s the way he looked at you like he couldn’t bear to be near you, like something had shifted irreparably between you, and the way he just left without a second glance, leaving you feeling more alone than ever.

But how can you explain that to them when you’re just now understanding it yourself?

The realization hits you like a truck and you suddenly jump up, slightly unsteadily on your feet. But it’s not really a realization after all. It’s something you’ve known deep down for a while. Forever, it feels like.

The world feels like it’s spinning, your thoughts tangled in a whirlwind of panic and desperation. You can barely hear Ryujin and Beomgyu’s voices through the haze of your own mind, their concerned words just background noise to the single, overwhelming thought that suddenly consumes you.

You need to find Soobin.

The tears are still streaming down your face, but you don’t care. The only thing that matters right now is reaching him, before this suffocating tension between you turns into an unbearable distance.

“Y/N, where are you going?” Ryujin calls after you, but you’re already running, your heart pounding in time with your frantic footsteps.

You don’t answer her, your feet moving faster than your thoughts. You’re driven by pure instinct, by the gnawing need to fix this before it’s too late. Before you lose him.

His house isn’t far—it never has been—and it’s that familiarity that drives you faster. The image of his retreating back is burned into your mind, propelling you forward through the dimly lit streets of the neighborhood. The sound of your breath is loud in your ears, mingling with the rapid beat of your heart as you round the final corner and see his house come into view.

His house is dark except for the porch light, and a flicker of doubt crosses your mind. What if he doesn’t want to see you? What if he won’t even open the door? But you can’t stop now, not when you’re so close. You run up to the door, and without hesitation, you start banging on it with all your strength.

“Soobin!” Your voice cracks as you call out his name, your fists pounding against the wood, the desperation in your voice echoing through the quiet night. “Soobin, please, open the door!”

For a moment, nothing happens, and your heart sinks with each second that passes. But then, you hear the sound of footsteps inside, followed by the slow creak of the door opening.

When Soobin’s face comes into view, your breath catches in your throat. He looks surprised, his hair slightly disheveled, his expression a mix of concern and confusion. His gaze immediately locks onto your tear-streaked face, and the shock deepens.

“Y/N?” He frowns, his eyes flicking over your smudged makeup and tear-stained cheeks. “What are you—are you okay? Did… did he do something else? I thought he left.”

His voice is soft, laced with worry, and the way he’s looking at you—like you’re fragile, like you might break at any moment—only makes the tears well up in your eyes again. But it’s not because of Daehyun. It’s because of him.

You shake your head, trying to find the words, but they all come out in a frantic rush, jumbled together with your raw emotions. “No, it’s not—it’s not Daehyun, Soobin. It’s you. It’s always been you.”

He blinks, clearly taken aback by your words, but you don’t give him a chance to respond. The words pour out of you, all the things you’ve been holding back for so long, spilling over in your desperation to make him understand.

“I don’t care about Daehyun,” you continue, your voice trembling with the force of your feelings. “I never did, not the way I care about you. I dated him because I was trying to get away from these feelings, because I was scared of how much I liked you, because I thought… I thought maybe if I was with someone else, it would go away. But it didn’t. I just made everything worse.”

Soobin’s expression shifts from confusion to something softer, something that almost breaks your heart all over again. He opens his mouth to say something, but you’re not done yet.

“I thought I could just… run away from it, from you, by moving to Seoul, by throwing myself into a relationship that I didn’t even really want, but it was all a lie. Everything with Daehyun was just a distraction, a way to pretend like I didn’t want to be with you. But I did. I do.” You take a shaky breath, your heart pounding in your chest as you finally say the words that have been eating away at you for so long. “Soobin, I like you. I like you so much it hurts, and I’ve been pretending that I don’t for so long that I almost convinced myself it was true.”

There’s a silence that follows your confession, the kind that feels like it stretches on for an eternity. You can’t bear to look at him, to see the rejection you’re sure is coming, but you can’t look away either.

Soobin doesn’t speak right away, his eyes searching your face, and you wonder if you’ve made the biggest mistake of your life. The silence between you is thick with tension, every second that passes weighing heavily on your chest.

Finally, he reaches out, his hand hesitating just inches from your cheek. When he finally cups your face, his touch is so gentle that it sends a shiver down your spine. His thumb brushes away a stray tear, and when he speaks, his voice is soft, almost disbelieving. “You… like me?”

You nod, unable to find your voice, your heart beating so loudly that you’re sure he can hear it.

For a moment, he just looks at you, his expression unreadable, and you brace yourself for the worst. But then, slowly, a small, almost tentative smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

“You idiot,” he murmurs, his tone affectionate, even as his words make your breath hitch. “You really thought I wouldn’t feel the same?”

Before you can even process what he’s saying, he’s pulling you inside, the door shutting behind you with a quiet click. The next thing you know, his hands are framing your face, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart stutter.

Then, without another word, he’s kissing you, and it’s everything you’ve ever wanted and more. The kiss is desperate, hungry, like he’s been waiting for this moment just as long as you have. His lips move against yours with a fervor that leaves you breathless, his hands tangling in your hair as he pulls you closer, as if he can’t get enough.

You respond with equal intensity, your hands clutching at the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer until there’s no space left between you. Every pent-up emotion, every unspoken word, every lingering touch that you’ve shared over the years is poured into this kiss, and it’s overwhelming in the best way possible.

His hands slide down to your waist, gripping you tightly as he deepens the kiss, his lips and tongue exploring yours with a desperation that mirrors your own. It’s like everything else fades away—Daehyun, the fight with your mom, all the pain and confusion you’ve been carrying with you. All that matters is Soobin, his touch, his warmth, the way he’s holding you like you’re the most important thing in the world.

Soobin doesn't waste any time. His hand finds yours, fingers lacing together as he pulls you deeper into the house, the intensity between you building with every step. His other hand never leaves your waist, his thumb brushing back and forth in a way that sends shivers down your spine.

Your heart pounds in your chest as he leads you through the familiar hallway, your breaths coming faster with each second. The anticipation crackles between you, a living thing that makes your skin tingle and your pulse race. His grip on your hand tightens when you reach his room, and without breaking the kiss, he pushes the door open, guiding you inside.

The moment the door shuts behind you, his lips are on yours again, more desperate this time, as if he can't bear to be apart from you for even a second. He walks you backward toward the bed, his hands sliding from your waist up to your shoulders, then back down to your hips, pulling you closer until you're pressed against him.

Your back hits the edge of the bed, and he nudges you down onto it, his hands cupping your face as he hovers over you. His kiss is relentless, stealing your breath away as he leans in closer, his body pressing against yours with just enough weight to make you feel grounded in this moment.

You respond eagerly, your fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer as you arch up into him. Every touch, every kiss, is like a spark of electricity, igniting something deep within you. His lips trail down to your jaw, then to your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he presses soft, lingering kisses there. Each touch makes you melt further into the bed, your hands roaming over his back, feeling the solid muscle beneath your fingertips.

Soobin's breath hitches as you slide your hands up under his shirt, your fingers tracing the lines of his toned body. He pulls back just enough to pull his shirt over his head, tossing it aside before his lips find yours again, his kiss more heated, more urgent than before. He deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that makes your toes curl, his hands roaming over your body, exploring every inch of you as if he's been waiting for this moment forever.

You lose yourself in him, in the way he touches you, the way he whispers your name against your lips like a prayer. The world outside his room fades away until it's just the two of you, tangled together in a mess of sheets and emotions. Every touch, every kiss, feels like a confession, an unspoken promise that this is just the beginning of something more.

“No more running,” he murmurs against the crown of your head, breathing in your scent he only could dream of being able to fully take in.

A smile curves its way onto your lips and you smile against his gentle touch, nodding as though there was not a single better thing he could suggest. Because there is nothing you would rather do than stay right here, the very place where a piece of you has always been and where you’ve always belonged.

thank you for reading! <3

#choi soobin #soobin #soobin x reader #soobin fanfic #soobin fluff #soobin smut #txt #txt fanfic #txt x reader #kpop #kpop fanfic

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kingkatsuki · 1 year ago

Text

— babysitting

Just a silly little piece about Bakugou looking after his nephew when Kirishima and his wife are both working, and him being the cutest little wingman.

Warnings: fluff!, implied!older Bakugou, Bakugou’s behaviour could be construed as stalking but it’s not really, he just proper fancies you.

Pairing: implied!Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader.

Word Count: 2.1k.

“Please, Kats. I promise it won’t be for long, we didn’t realise we were both working this afternoon and I can’t take him on patrol with me—” Kirishima pleaded on the phone.

“I’m busy,” Bakugou replied bluntly.

“Busy doing what?” His best friend almost whined, and Bakugou could tell the hulking tank of a man was pouting on the other side of the line.

“None of your damn business.”

Bakugou didn’t want to admit the real reason he was busy today. It was the same reason he was now busy every day he was off.

A few weeks ago he’d made his way into Musutafu mall on his lunch break to pick up a copy of a new romance book his favourite author had just released. And while he was checking out he noticed you filling up one of the displays near the back of the store, giving him the cutest smile when he’d passed you to leave.

Since that day he’d come back every week on one of his days off, just to get a simple “hey” from you as he bought yet another book. Bakugou was certain he’d soon have so many unread books in his house that he’d have to build an extension to store them, but he couldn’t help it.

And today was going to be the day that he was actually going to talk to you— possibly.

“Can’t you reschedule? It’ll only be for a few hours until I can get off patrol and he can spend the afternoon at the agency with me.”

“What about Mina?” Bakugou offered.

“She’s got that photoshoot with Hero Weekly today, remember?” Of course she fucking does, “And Sero’s out on patrol with me.”

“Denks?” Bakugou was certain he already knew the answer to that one though, as he ran a palm down the length of his face.

“You know I’m not allowed to leave him unsupervised with Denki anymore, Bro.” Kirishima groaned, “The wife still hasn’t forgiven me for them almost setting the kitchen on fire.”

Bakugou couldn’t help but snigger at the memory, the panicked phone call that he’d heard coming through on the central emergency line that there was a fire in Red Riot’s neighbourhood, and when Backdraft had turned up at the scene he’d found a singed Denki standing inside a murky kitchen with some burnt cookies. Kirishima had to replace two cabinet units and the oven after that debacle and it was no wonder his wife no longer trusted Denki as a babysitter.

“Please, man. I already told him, and he’s real excited to spend the day with you.”

Bakugou couldn’t deny he missed spending time with his little nephew, and Kirishima knew his best friend couldn’t deny the pleas of his son. Silently fist pumping the air in relief when Bakugou finally responded on the other end of the phone.

“Fine, I’ll pick him up now.”

“Uncle Kats, let’s get these!” His nephew picked up a water gun from a wire dumpbin of toys outside the toy store, turning around in a crouched motion with eyes squinted as he pretended to shoot Bakugou.

He put his hands up in mock surrender as he grabbed at the plastic barrel, holding it in the air as he took it out of his nephews hands to place it back inside the bin.

“Your parents don’t like you having guns, remember squirt.”

“But what if I need one for protection.”

“You don’t need that shit for protection,” He shook his head, “I’ll be there to protect ya.”

“But wouldn’t it be cool to have a water gun fight outside. It’s summer.” His young nephew whined as Bakugou began to lead him away from the toy store, noticing that your work was approaching on the right side of the mall.

“I’ll talk to them about it.” Bakugou reached down to ruffle his hair as his nephew shouldered his leg wrapping an arm around one thick thigh to squeeze him into a hug in thanks, “How about a book? You like reading, don’tcha?”

“Not really,” He shook his head, immediately making a beeline for the confectionery inside the shop.

“What? Why not.” Bakugou raised a brow before he began to search the store for you, hoping that you weren’t on your lunch break.

You were usually in one of the back aisles around this time of day, tidying the shelves as he pretended to flick through the various hero books that you sold. Like he’d ever actually buy one of them— perhaps the book Miruko had released on unabashedly being yourself despite the critics, or the memoir Edgeshot had put together before he passed away, but never the unofficial Deku books that seemed to line the shelves of your Pro-Hero section and were always on sale. Bakugou snorted when he noticed a large bright red “half off” sticker covering Deku’s face on one.

“It’s too many pages.” His nephew scoffed, picking up a chocolate bar as Bakugou placed a palm on the back of his neck to lead him away from the sweets.

“You just gotta find a book that doesn’t feel like too many pages, that’s all.” He began to walk towards the manga aisle, wondering if there might be something there that would interest the young boy.

“You like reading, uncle Kats?”

“Course I do,” Bakugou scoffed, “Way better than TV. That shit’ll rot your brain.”

He had an entire bookshelf of his favourites lined up at home. All in alphabetical order by author and spines outward facing, a few of his favourite covers turned forward to show off the artwork. Some spines were more worn than others, an indication of the sheer number of times he’d sought comfort in those stories after a long day at work, or a lonely night at home.

“What kinda books do you like?”

Bakugou chewed on the inside of his cheek before answering. It would be so easy to lie and say action or fantasy, certain that half the people who claimed their favourite book was Lord of the Rings or a Game of Thrones had never actually read them. Or the pretentious people who would pretend their favourites were non-fiction books about bettering yourself or hyper-specific topics that would never come up in normal conversation. But there was a part of him that didn’t want to lie to his nephew— the boy was always so open and honest with him, even at his young age.

“Romance.” Bakugou shrugged, leaning forward to pick up one of the new manga books that sat on a top shelf.

“Eww yuck,” Bakugou’s nephew immediately scrunched up his face, making a show of sticking his tongue out in distaste, “I didn’t think you’d like books like that.”

“What did ya think I’d like?”

“I dunno, like action or kicking villain ass.”

“Don’t say ass.” Bakugou frowned, his eyebrows narrowing as he glared down at the young boy.

“But you say it all the time, I hear you.”

“Yeah, because I’m an adult.” Bakugou grinned, “I see enough of that crap when I’m at work, don’t need to read about it too.”

“You say ‘shit’ a lot too.”

“Oi, you little—” Bakugou lost his train of thought the moment he saw you past a corner, words disappearing into nothing as he noticed the same focused look on your face as you sorted through a delivery of new books.

Bakugou was certain you were wearing a new pair of jeans today, or at least a pair he’d never seen before. You looked real good in them. He felt his heartbeat increase when you placed a book back on the shelf, stopping to talk to one of your colleagues as your lips curled in to the prettiest smile, and he couldn’t stop himself as he felt himself beginning to mimic your smiling face.

“Oh,” The kid nudged his thigh, shamelessly standing around the shelves to stare at you, “Is that the real reason why you brought me into a bookstore? Not because you want me to read.”

“What?” Bakugou wasn’t even sure he heard the question as he kept his gaze on you. Feeling his cheeks begin to heat up as you bent over to pick up more books, the angle had your jeans tightening against the curve of your ass and he felt like a pervert for ogling you so shamelessly.

“The lady you’re staring at.” His nephew snorted, pointing over at you “You’re so obvious.”

“Piss— shut up,” Bakugou caught himself, grabbing the kid by the collar of his shirt to tug him back behind the shelves, “I ain’t starin’.”

“Yeah you are!” His nephew sniggered, “You’re giving her the same look my dad gives ma.”

“No I ain’t.” Bakugou almost pouted, crimson eyes still peeking at you through the shelves in the aisle he was down as you continued to place more books onto the table in your section.

“You so are,” His tone increased, and Bakugou had to stop himself from slapping a palm over his big mouth to shut him up, “You’re so obvious. Look how red you are!”

Was he that obvious? Bakugou had done everything he could to be subtle each week when he visited your bookstore, trying to stick to the same shelves and strategically picking up books so he didn’t seem like was just staring at you all the time. Not that it was his fault anyway, you were so fucking pretty.

“Why don’t you go and talk to her?”

“She’s workin’.” Bakugou replied as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. He’d probably said a total of five words to you since he’d started coming into your book store a few weeks ago, and the thought of saying any more had a ferocious pit growing inside his stomach.

“So? If you like her you should tell her,” His nephew tried to nudge him towards you, “That’s why my dad asked my ma out.”

“That’s different,” Bakugou grumbled, “This is…”

Kirishima knew his wife liked him back, they’d been friends long before they started dating so they had a foundation to build upon. This? This was completely new to him, and the thought of being rejected, especially by a girl as pretty as you, petrified him.

“Wait, you read all those romance books and you don’t know how to ask a girl out?”

“I do know,” Bakugou sneered, “I ain’t a total dumbass.”

“So why don’t you?”

Because he was a coward, that’s why.

Not that he’d even be able to talk to you long enough to do it if he could. His throat seized up and his heart practically ricocheted off his rib cage whenever you were near, your perfume lingering in the air as it had him wishing he could bring you into a warm embrace. He’d ask you out one day, just not today—

“Because I told ya, she’s workin’.” Bakugou began to steer his nephew away from the manga section, trying to get him to leave the store.

It had been a bad idea to still come to your store on his day off even though he was babysitting, but he couldn’t help it. The routine he’d settled into on his days off no longer felt complete if they didn’t include you, the small time he’d spend in the bookstore each week were enough to become the highlight of his day. And he would ask you out— just not today.

“Don’t tell your parents about this,” Bakugou grumbled, “Your dads too frigging nosy.”

“Alright,” His nephew practically sung the word, and Bakugou knew exactly what was coming, “But it’ll cost you.”

“I’m sure it’s a crime to blackmail a Pro-Hero, squirt.”

“So I’ll just tell the pretty lady you fancy her then.”

“Fine, fine,” Bakugou snarled, the corner of his lip curling to bare his gum, “Whaddya want?”

“That water gun we saw at the toy store.”

God, Kirishima was gonna kill him.

“Fine.” Bakugou groaned, walking towards the cash register to pay for the candy that he’d picked up.

“But you have to get one too so we can play together, alright?”

Two guns. Kirishima’s wife would definitely kill him before he even attempted to sweet talk his best friend.

“I was going to say the loser has to tell that girl from the bookstore that you like her, but you’ll probably lose because you’re old.”

“Oi, you cheeky little shit,” He ruffled his nephew's messy black hair, “Watch who you’re callin’ old, squirt. I’ll kick your ass and ask her out.”

#bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugou drabble #soft bakugou #mha x reader #bnha x reader

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lemonlover1110 · 1 year ago

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐀𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝟑𝟖𝟏

Toji Fushiguro

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[Chapter 16] First Date

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

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Toji arranges a babysitter– Someone he has to pay to watch Megumi. He can’t rely on you to babysit because after all, he’s going on a date with you. He dresses his best, getting approval from his son to wear a crimson button down shirt and black slacks. He almost wears a tie, but it’s definitely too much considering your date isn’t anything fancy.

Megumi also begins to get ready, and it makes Toji ask, “What are you doing, stinky?”

“Getting ready to go out.” He answers, which makes Toji chuckle. Megumi hasn’t picked up the memo that he’s not joining. Toji clears his throat as he thinks of a way to let Megumi down gently; Megumi has helped out a lot today, in the little boy’s mind he thinks he deserves to join you. And as much as Toji loves his son, he couldn’t disagree more.

“You’ll be staying here, buddy.” Toji ends up saying, not finding another way to let his son down. Megumi furrows his brows, sticking out his bottom lip. Megumi looks at his father disappointedly. Toji says something that will hopefully convince Megumi that staying home isn’t so bad. “You’ll get to eat whatever you want and stay up late.”

“I wanna go.” Megumi still responds, making Toji sigh. He knows the water works are coming in, even though Megumi swore he’d be less of a crybaby at four years of age. Toji tries to think of something to say… Then, it sparks on him.

“You told me you wanted the neighbor to be your mommy… If this goes well, she might become your mommy.” Toji says, and he feels guilty saying that, but that’s the only way he can stop Megumi from crying. And it works. Megumi feels less sad, and more intrigued now. Toji sighs again before he tells his son, “In order for it to go well, you have to stay here and behave. Can you do that, stinky?”

“Yeah…” Megumi nods in response.

The babysitter gets there right as scheduled, and Toji says goodbye to his son before he grabs the bouquet of flowers he bought, and steps out of the apartment. He only has to take a couple of steps before he’s in front of apartment 382. Toji takes a deep breath, as a sudden wave of nerves takes over him… Why is he suddenly so nervous? He has no reason to be, he’s known you for eight months and you’ve had sex twice. This shouldn’t be anything nerve wracking, but his palms are getting sweaty.

He finally knocks, and it feels like an eternity for you to answer the door. Toji begins to overthink, and while he isn’t exactly the person that begins to overthink, he suddenly wonders if maybe– God, you have such a strong effect on him. You finally open the door, and you immediately feel underdressed.

“Should I go change real quick?” You ask him, and he shakes his head in response. He hands you the bouquet of flowers, and the brightest smile comes to your lips. You kiss his cheek and put the flowers on the counter of the kitchen. “Thank you, they’re lovely.”

“Not as lovely as you.” He tells you, and you feel your face warm up. Is this the same man that lives next door? He sounds too sweet. You grab your purse before exiting the apartment, and you two make your way to his car. He opens the door for you, and you get in.

You wonder where he’s taking you and what you’re doing tonight. Toji is so well dressed that you wonder if you made the right decision picking the outfit that you’re currently wearing. But he didn’t tell you to change so maybe you’ll be fine– Hopefully you’re fine. He gets in the driver’s seat and you ask, “So where are we going?”

“I’m taking you to my favorite restaurant… And then…” He didn’t think all of it through. He tried to think of a fun date idea, but nothing popped up. He just thought about taking you out to eat some of his favorite food. Maybe you’ll be more creative on your second date; if you have a second date.

You chuckle. “That sounds great.”

“I know it’s nothing too exciting but–” He feels the need to justify himself.

“I love it. That’s what I was expecting.” You cut him off. He turns on the car and begins to drive. It’s a somewhat long drive, which is why he saved going there for this very special occasion.

“Am I too predictable?” He doesn’t know why but suddenly he’s self-conscious about what someone else thinks. He fucking hates the feeling, but he loves the fact that it’s because of you.

“No. It’s just cold out, there’s not much we can do… Unless you want to try to ice skate but I’m not in the mood of falling on my butt tonight.” You laugh and it’s intoxicating, causing him to let out a chuckle as well. Your eyes fall on him as he focuses on the road. “We can save the fun stuff for later dates– Especially over the summer. Maybe we can bring Megumi as well.”

“Nope.” It doesn’t take a single second for him to shut down the idea. And now he bites his tongue because he seems like a bad father. He doesn’t want to seem like one– He loves the fact that you’re trying to include Megumi in your little adventures, and he loves that you clearly adore Megumi. But he doesn’t want Megumi to be included in your dates. “I love him, don’t get me wrong. He’s my son. But dates are for the two of us, we don’t have to bring him with us. He’ll just take all the attention for himself.”

“Got it.” You end up laughing. You look out the window to try and figure out where you’re going, you wonder if it’s somewhere nearby. What food does Toji like… You’ve eaten with him more than a handful of times, but he eats whatever he has in front of him happily. You’ve never heard a single complaint from him.

“So…” He clears his throat, and your eyes fall on him. You watch his grip on the steering wheel tighten and you wonder what goes through his head. “About my second job…”

“It’s fine… You didn’t have to tell me, although I would’ve appreciated it.” You share. “You have to do what you have to do for your son.”

“I should’ve told you, we had something going on and I hid that from you. I know that could’ve changed your mind about our relationship.” He replies. He takes a deep breath before he mutters a phrase he never leaves his lips, “And I’m… Sorry.”

“It’s okay now…” You sheepishly smile even though he can’t see it. “How are you holding up with it now? Is everything okay?”

“I’ll be quitting soon. I found this cute little house that’s perfect for Megumi and I, and I’ve saved up a lot.” He tells you, and you feel excited. Excited for him and the fact that he’ll be quitting his second job soon. Also excited that you get to have him all to yourself in most senses. But slightly saddened that he’ll stop being your neighbor soon. You have no idea how long soon is though, so you won’t dwell on it. “It’s thirty minutes away though.”

“Oh…” You sound disappointed, and he’s disappointed too so he can’t blame you. But he’ll find a way to work things out, you do have a bit of time. One hand goes to your thigh, and he squeezes it. You try to joke around, “Don’t think you’re getting rid of me that easily.”

“Oh, I know I’m not. Hopefully not.”

You breathe in relief when you realize that you’re dressed appropriately for the restaurant Toji takes you to. It makes you smile more when you realize that he dressed up just to impress you. You order what he recommends, and you chat while you wait for the food.

“How did Megumi take staying home?” You ask him, because maybe you overheard a bit of their conversation. The walls are thin, especially when your ear is glued to it and your apartment is extremely quiet. So maybe you were trying to eavesdrop.

“I had to argue with him a bit, but he’s fine. He’s probably having fun with the babysitter.” Toji answers. He then jokes, “You better hope he doesn’t replace you as his favorite babysitter.”

“You really think I’m that easily replaceable? I see how it is, Toji.” You act offended, and Toji apologizes since he doesn’t pick up that you’re joking around with him. It makes you burst out laughing, “I’m only joking, Toji. Megumi won’t replace me that easily, we both know that.”

“Yeah… He adores you. Sometimes I think he likes you more than me because he doesn’t shut up about you.” Toji confesses, and you love hearing that. You love spending time with Megumi, and you’re glad to know he loves spending time with you too.

“He also doesn’t shut up about you.” You tell him, and a weak smile comes to his lips, which he hides fast. It’s nice to know that his son likes him even though it doesn’t seem like it. At least not in his eyes. “He really makes me want to have a child.”

“Um…” Toji gaze goes elsewhere in shame. He bites on the inside of his bottom lip, wondering if this is conversation for a first date. He scratches the back of his neck and then decides to speak up, “I don’t want to have more kids.”

“Oh…” You’re a bit taken back by it, but you can understand. Toji is a single father and has been one for two years, you assume he’s struggled a lot. He doesn’t want to repeat that process again because while you don’t plan on dying, the universe might have different plans for you. You awkwardly laugh, “I don’t even think I can have kids so we’ll be okay on that aspect.”

“This isn’t first date material, is it?” He asks, and you laugh before shaking your head. You’ve known each other for some time though, so this isn’t as awkward as it should be. Toji takes a deep breath before speaking up, “But my answer isn’t a deal breaker. I can change my mind in the future.”

“I’m not counting on you changing your mind.” You respond. It’s fine either way, if you get with Toji you’ll have Megumi, and he’s the only kid you need. Would you love to have a baby? Yes. But do you really need to have a baby in order to be happy? No. “Anyway, let’s talk about something else.”

“I really hope you like the food here. I love it.” He says. “I can’t come here with Megumi because the little shit doesn’t like it.”

“I do trust Megumi’s judgment so…” You begin, and he quickly picks up that you’re joking because Megumi is such a picky eater. He hopes that the kid will grow out of it, but it’s so hard for Toji to get Megumi something to eat. Something healthy.

“You better like it, I have to come here with someone.” He tells you. You reach over the table, grabbing his hands into yours. He smiles at you and you tell him,

“I’ll gladly come here with you, even if the food sucks.” And he could just lean over and kiss you, but your food gets to the table. He’s never been so fucking mad about the fact that there’s food in front of him. Toji likes you so much that he thinks he prefers you over food. He swears your eyes shine when you look at the food, and you lick your lips. “It looks good so far. But I trust my picky baby’s judgment.”

“You’re so right. He’s the food critic we’re missing.” Toji responds, and he watches you take the first bite of your food, and a smile comes to your face. It’s fair to say that he’ll bring you here again in the future. He might drag Megumi to join as well. “Do you like it?”

You hum in response, stuffing your face. He honestly likes the sight in front of him better than eating. He does begin to eat until a question pops in his mind, and he can’t help but ask, “Who sent you the pictures of me and Momoko?”

“I wish I knew, it was an unknown number.” You answer when you swallow, and you don’t say much more until you stuff your mouth full again. Until you get an idea of who it is, and although it seems absurd, you say his name, “Probably Gojo.”

“Who?” Toji asks, wondering who you’re talking about. He tries to recall who it is, but it’s someone that holds little importance to the man. You give him a vague description, and he immediately remembers. “What’s up with him? Don’t you hate him or something like that?”

“He was overall a bad friend to my husband… A little after my husband was diagnosed, he lost his job. He went to Gojo who was his friend for help but Gojo shut him down quickly. Gojo runs a couple of family businesses so he has money but he refused to lend my husband money– Even though I was willing to pay it back, and he also refused to give Kento a job.” You bite down on your lip before proceeding to take a sip of your beverage. It’s hard to talk about, it’s the first time you actually tell someone about it. “He didn’t have to lend money but it would’ve helped Kento get better treatment, and perhaps the fate of things would’ve turned out differently.”

“Woah… I can beat him up for you next time I see him.” You laugh. That’s a nice response.

“Weirdly enough, he asked me out not too long ago.” The piece of information makes Toji’s blood boil. Gojo is not only a bad friend but simply a terrible human being. You watch Toji clench his jaw, and you’re quick to say, “This food is so good, Toji. You have to bring me here again.”

“I will.” He softens up again at the sound of your sweet voice. “As many times as you’d like.”

“I really like your bracelet.” Toji points out as he holds your hand, walking back to his car. Your eyes glance at the charm bracelet he gave you, and you smile sweetly at him.

“Thank you for giving it to me, Toji.” You respond. You approach his car, and you feel saddened that the night comes to an end. You’ve enjoyed your night with him, and you wish it would last longer. But he has to get back home to his son, and the night must end eventually. The faster it ends, the faster the next date comes.

He opens the door for you, and you stop him before he can walk any further. You smile at him and you bring your lips up to his, gently pecking him. He’s caught off guard, he doesn’t know why; he was expecting to kiss you tonight.

He freezes for a second before he kisses your lips again, and when he pulls away he kisses your cheek. He cups your face, looking into your eyes. He feels butterflies in his stomach, and it feels so fucking ridiculous for him to think.

“Thank you for joining me tonight.” He says. It feels like he’s swept you up from your feet in an instance. Your feelings for Toji were fading, and now they’re back and stronger than before. He’s not making your case easier.

“Thank you for inviting me, Toji. I had a lovely night.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #anime #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #daddy toji #toji zenin #jujutsu toji #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x y/n #fushiguro toji #toji x you #dilf toji #toji fic

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runninriot · 4 months ago

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written for @steddieangstyaugust day 10

Maybe

When he hears the front door open, Steve turns to risk a glance at the clock on his bedside table, red numbers glowing too bright in the darkness of the room.

It’s way past midnight, too late for Eddie to come back from the meeting he was supposed to be caught up at.

‘I’m sorry, baby. I’ll be home late again. Don’t wait up for me.’

Eddie had called him to let him know he wouldn’t make it home in time for dinner – the third time in two weeks – said each time he’d make it up to him. That he would take Steve out to this one fancy restaurant where they celebrated their fifth anniversary two years ago, hasn’t made true to his promise yet.

Eddie’s been so distant lately, kind of stressed and on edge, acting weird around Steve.

It's like something has changed between them. Something just doesn’t feel right.

Steve misses Eddie’s closeness. Misses being scooped up in strong arms like Eddie used to do whenever he came home from work. Misses the kisses, the hugs, the cuddles, the ‘I love you’s. He misses the sex, the way Eddie used to be obsessed with him. How he worshipped him.

It all didn’t stop over night, they’ve been in a rut for months now.

And maybe that’s normal.

Maybe 7 years of being together have finally taken their toll on things like passion and desire. Maybe waking up to the same face every day does that, makes your love life dull or rather non-existent.

Maybe it’s Steve’s fault for letting himself go a little. For having gotten too comfortable in the mundanity of their day to day life. He’s gained a bit of weight over the years, hasn’t been to the gym or on a morning run in ages. He prefers to wear comfortable sweaters instead of skin-tight shirts, wears his hair shorter now because he couldn’t be bothered anymore to style it every day to keep it out of his face.

Steve hasn’t tried to spice things up like he used to in the beginning of their relationship, when they could barely keep their hands off each other and spent whole weekends in bed fucking, making out, forgetting the world around them.

Maybe it’s all Steve’s fault.

Maybe he is the reason why, for the third time in two weeks, Eddie comes home past midnight, careful not to wake Steve when he slides into bed, reeking of alcohol and cheap perfume that isn’t his.

That’s why he doesn’t notice that Steve is awake, can’t even be bothered to kiss him goodnight like he used to do.

That’s why he lies.

Lies about meetings and business dinners, uses them as weak alibis to hide where he’s truly been.

“Where were you?” Steve turns around facing Eddie’s back.

He knows Eddie isn’t asleep yet, knows he heard him, so he counts the seconds until finally, Eddie turns to look at him.

“Didn’t know you’re awake.”

Steve closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

He could leave it at that. Could press a stiff kiss on his partner’s lips that the other man wouldn’t return and pretend that everything’s fine.

Could just keep pretending that he doesn’t know that his boyfriend is cheating on him.

“I asked you a question, Eddie. Where were you?”

Eddie huffs, seems angry and Steve can’t believe how unfair this is. If anything, Steve should be the one that’s angry. He should be furious. But instead, he’s doing his best to hold back the tears that threaten to spill.

“I told you, babe. I got caught up in this meeting and then the guys wanted to go for a few drinks after, that’s all.”

Steve almost believes him. Wants to believe that he’s telling the truth but he can feel in his heart that it’s a lie.

“Do you still love me?”

It’s a question that has been burning inside him for a while now. Slowly eating away at his sanity because- what if not? What if Eddie fell in love with someone else? What if he met someone who can give him what Steve can’t? Someone younger, prettier, and more successful than him. Someone Steve can’t compete with because-

What does he have to offer, really, except his undying love?

The bedside lamp flickers to life and Eddie sits up so suddenly, that it startles Steve.

“Steve, where is this coming from? You know I do!”

“Can’t even say it,” Steve mumbles to himself as he pushes himself up to sit.

“What?” Eddie asks, looking annoyed and confused.

“I said. You can’t even say it!” Steve nearly shouts the words, doesn’t care how much his voice trembles, doesn’t care that Eddie can see the tears now running down his face.

He’s been keeping this in for too long; he can’t do it anymore. He can’t keep up the charade of them being this happy, loving couple when it’s so clear that they’re not anymore.

When he finally realises that everything has slowly been breaking apart under his disbelieving eyes – he could’ve put a stop to it before it was too late but instead, he chose to ignore it. Chose to believe in the lies he told himself, lies he wanted to believe because the truth seemed too unbearable.

Eddie tries to take his hand but Steve pulls away, wraps his arms around himself for what little comfort it gives.

“Baby, please-“

“Do not call me that. You have no right to call me that.”

Eddie sighs, rubbing his hands across his face and when he looks back up at Steve, he can see the truth he’s been dreading all this time in the other man’s eyes.

“You’re right, I’m not. Steve, I- I am, fuck. I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean for it to happen. I- I don’t even know why I did it.”

The confession slices through Steve’s heart like a knife, tears him apart from the inside out. He can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t believe that his worst nightmare is now bitter reality.

But it is; Eddie just admitted to it. Doesn’t even try to lie his way out of it this time.

“Do you love them?”

Steve doesn’t know why he’s asking. Does he really want to know the answer?

Maybe he needs it. Maybe he needs to hear Eddie say it out loud to make it real. To make him believe that it is.

“No! I only love you.”

Steve scoffs, feels sick.

“You’ve got a hell of a way showing that.”

“I know! I know I’ve made a mistake but please believe me. I love you, Steve! Only you! I fucked up, I know that. But-“

No.

No, this isn’t right.

“But what, Eddie? Fuck you! You cheated on me! You haven’t even kissed me in weeks but you went out there and fucked someone else?”

Steve’s voice cracks as he breaks down sobbing, hiding his face in his own hands.

This is it. It’s over.

Seven years of building a life together, of creating a beautiful home, seven years of happiness thrown away.

Just like that.

“Stevie, baby,” Eddie’s voice is suddenly so much closer and before Steve can register what happens, he’s wrapped up in Eddie’s arms, pulling him against his chest.

He hates how good it feels. How his body sinks into the embrace out of sheer instinct. How he lets himself be held because that’s what he knows. For years, Eddie has been his anchor, his whole goddamn world. And although he knows he should fight it, he can’t help but sling his arms around the man he loves. Still, even after what he did.

“I’m so, so sorry, Steve. I never wanted to hurt you. I love you, baby. I love with all my heart and I know I’ve fucked up big time. It wasn’t even- I didn’t-“

Steve can hear in his voice that he’s crying, too. But he can’t bring himself to look up, can barely focus on his own grieving heart and the muffled sound of Eddie’s voice.

“I was drunk when it happened the first time and I know that’s no excuse. I know that! And it doesn’t justify that I went back. That I- that I hurt you. You deserve better, Stevie. You deserve the whole fucking world and I-“

“I only wanted you, Eddie. That’s all I needed.”

Finally, Steve finds the strength to peel himself out of Eddie’s arms.

“Why? Why did you do it? Am I not enough for you?”

Eddie takes a staggering breath and it pains Steve to see him like that – hurt and defeated, regret written all over his tear-streaked face.

It hurts so fucking much because all he ever wanted was to make Eddie happy.

But he failed. He failed to love Eddie the way he needs to be loved or else he wouldn’t have had searched for pleasure somewhere else, right?

“You are everything, Steve. This is my fault, not yours. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Somehow, that makes it even worse.

“I was stupid. So fucking stupid. And I’ll do everything I can to make it right.”

One month later

Breaking up with Eddie had been the hardest decision he’s ever had to make. But Steve knew if he stayed, he’d only hurt himself. That he’d give himself up trying to mend what’s been broken, that he’d drown in self-doubts and misery trying to pretend that everything could be right again.

And maybe Eddie knew it, too, deep down.

It’s not like Eddie didn’t put up a fight, he did. Tried to talk Steve into staying, begged on his knees for another chance. But eventually, he let him go. Gave him one last kiss goodbye, one last hug, one more moment of familiarity before Steve’s world changed and everything he’d known for seven years suddenly turned into a scary, unknown future he’d have to face on his own.

It still hurts. Especially when Steve comes home to an empty apartment after work, knowing that no one will be there to fall asleep next to at night. This is probably the hardest part of it all, lying in an empty bed without the comfort of Eddie’s body to cuddle up next to.

But it’s for the best.

He knows it is, even if he still wishes Eddie was there, here, with him.

Steve manages, gets by. He found a nice little apartment, tries to keep himself distracted with work, has picked up on hobbies he’d given up years ago.

Life is... okay. Not good. Not how it used to be because there’s always something missing.

There’s always this void, this empty space where Eddie used to be. On quiet Sunday mornings when the smell of coffee fills the kitchen but Steve’s mug is the only one on the table. Or when their favourite songs play on the radio and Steve’s voice is the only one singing along.

It’s lonely without Eddie.

Lonely without the man that still, after everything, is the one that holds his heart.

When Steve comes home after work, two bags of groceries in one hand, fumbling for the key with his other, he’s stopped in his tracks at the sight that greets him in front of his apartment door.

There’s a bouquet of flowers waiting for him. Pink peonies and yellow roses – and it shouldn’t surprise him anymore because it’s been like this for every single day for three weeks but it still makes him smile like it’s the first time.

Steve drops the bags to pick up the flowers and look for the card he knows is there.

Hope you had a good day.

I love you.

The messages vary but it always ends with the words Steve so desperately wanted to hear him say before their world broke apart. And although Steve hasn’t forgotten what he did, he appreciates Eddie’s stubbornness. His willingness to try.

These sweet little gestures are as heart-warming as they are painful. Because it reminds Steve every day of how much he misses him. Misses Eddie’s laughter and his hugs, his kisses and the warmth of his eyes. Misses the sound of Eddie’s voice when he called him baby, despite everything.

Because he loves him.

Still.

And it makes him wonder if maybe, when the time is right and the pain has soothed enough to talk about it, maybe they can dare to work it out?

Start from the beginning, on Steve’s terms.

Give their love a second chance because-

No matter how stupid it sounds, his heart tells him it’s worth another try.

Because people make mistakes, it’s in their nature to fuck up. And sure, some mistakes cannot be forgiven.

But maybe, in this case, it’s not about forgiveness. Maybe it’s more about healing and finding a way to look past what happened – not to forget, but to take it as a chance to do better.

Because maybe, a love that runs so deep, that lives in every cell of Steve’s body, deserves a second chance.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #steddieangstyaugust #writing prompt

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silaslich · 1 month ago

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Could you plz write more Ghost x amab!reader (maybe some angst and internalised homophobia/catholic guilt?) I just read your recent fic and its so good!!??? Its so difficult finding any x male!reader stuff </3

Firstly- thank you for the love on the last ghostxm!reader fic! It was very therapeutic to write I can’t lie. Secondly- I hope I did this justice as I know it’s going to be sensitive and sorry that it’s so short for this reason! Ily <3

Tw - internalised homophobia, religious guilt, 18+, blowjob, homophobia [parental+peers]

There’s that everlasting fight between your head and your heart. Knowing how you feel but also knowing how others want you to feel.

Pretending had been easier when you were younger. There had been the absence of those awkward questions over the dinner table when family visited or the knowing looks people gave you when everyone was around for the holidays.

You had always thought you were so solid in your beliefs when you were a kid. Attending Sunday school and church summer camps; wearing a cross around your neck and never taking it off no matter how much your mum told you to because it would tarnish.

Every night you’d kneel at your bedside and place your hands together, muttering as you closed your eyes tightly. Praying for happiness and health for yourself and your family.

You’re kneeling by your bed still- but instead of being pressed together in prayer your hands are braced against Simon’s thighs, tears stinging your eyes as he fucks his cock into the wet-warmth of your mouth. You gag around the girth of him, listening as he slurs your name. Part of you feels the way your stomach blooms with need, a deep rooted craving to be ruined at the hands of this man; the other part of you recognises the shame that strums away in your chest- ever present.

He leans forward to brush his thumb over your cheek, feeling where his cock sits through your skin. You have to squeeze your eyes shut, not wanting to catch the look in his eyes. He hisses through his teeth when you press your tongue along the underside of him, taking him further into your throat. It’s a reoccurring thing - drawn into him only to wish the time away. If Simon’s noticed he hasn’t said a thing. You’re not sure that he would but either way you’re grateful of it.

Simon cums in your mouth and makes a show of watching you swallow it, you preen at his praise and he smothers his mouth to yours. You still in his hold when he tries to pull you into him, into your bed. His eyes dart across your face, reading your expression and his face falls; he lets go of you completely and you can’t even look at him anymore.

It often ends like this. Cut short for no apparent reason. Whether it’s wrong or right- you can’t help it. There’s no explaining it on your behalf, not really. Even if you know, you don’t want to admit it to yourself. That would make it real, it would prove everyone right and your pride couldn’t take that kind of hit.

It takes you back to being fourteen again. Wondering why something feels off. Confused as to why your friends are giddy and sheepish when they tell you about a girl they fancy. You’d never really thought about it. It takes another year before you finally understand. Watching as a boy in the year above you plays rugby out on the school field, covered in mud and sweat and looking different that he had done just yesterday. Thats the first time you’d understood your friends, but it was a real life horror when you learnt that it wasn’t normal to feel that same giddiness about a boy. You had been foolish to let it slip, to tell your friends about your crush when they were telling you about theirs. They’d laughed and laughed until tears sprung their eyes - and then they’d jumped you outside of the school gates as soon as it came to home time. You’d limped home with a cracked tooth and a swollen face, expecting your mother to clean your wounds and tell you it would all be okay- she didn’t. Instead she shut you out. Told you that you were no son of hers. She’d been in utter denial for years, as had your father. He’s confused. It’s a phase. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. He’s just trying to be defiant he’ll grow out of it. God will help cure him honey. Let’s pray.

You lay staring at the ceiling. Replaying their voices over and over again in your head. It’s all you can hear when you look at Simon. Their taunting voices about your confusion and your faith. They told you how God wouldn’t follow you down this path you were treading, that all you had to do is beg for his forgiveness and repent. Horseshit.

The cross laying on your chest feels as though it burns, despite it all, you hadn’t taken it off. Perhaps it’s because you still believe in God, even though you don’t pray or go to church you still believe in some divine power of some sort - even if it’s just a little bit. It’s that little bit of hope that you know you’re doing the right thing. That no matter who you’ve lost along the way, you’ve found yourself.

You suppose you can’t be mad at people for not understanding. Even if they’re the ones who should love you through anything and everything - you can’t be mad at them for trusting what they know more than what they’re afraid of. Because that’s what it is. They’re scared that you’ll go to hell, that your sexuality defines your worth and whether or not you’ll reach those pearly gates. The thought makes you scoff, because it sounds ridiculous, you suppose you think that because you’re not exactly a believer. How can you believe in a God that would abandon you for the simple reason of loving someone?

It sparks something in your chest. It spreads like wildfire until it crawls up your throat- suffocating you.

There’s suddenly rapid knocking at Simon’s door and it startles him awake, he’s a light sleeper as it is. Simon reaches the door quickly and before the door is even open fully you’re on him. Smothering your lips to his. He’s frigid for all of three seconds before his fingers are rooted in your flesh. Curling into your clothes and pulling you closer.

Beliefs and beloveds be damned. If God abandons you, there’s no chance that Simon Riley will.

#lichwrites #lichsanon #simon ghost riley #call of duty #simon ghost riley x male reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley fanfic #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #call of duty ghost #simon ghost x you #cod mw ghost #ghost x you #ghost x reader #ghost cod #ghost

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invissimp · 11 months ago

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Yule Blue ||

Authors notes: I didn't expect to finish this until Saturday or Sunday but Suprise!

Part 1

my requests are open!

Silence, that’s all you and your friends sat in after you confessed your feelings for a certain Slytherin. Hermione wasn’t surprised at your feelings just shocked you said it out loud and around Harry and Ron. The latter let out a gasp and told Harry to pinch him to make sure he wasn’t dreaming which he did and Ron responded with “I didn’t actually mean it!”

Harry just remained sat at the couch with a unreadable expression on his face but it slowly turned into a smile, just a small one which he hasn’t done a whole lot these days. Well at least Harry and Hermione was fine with it. You couldn’t tell with Ron at this point because he was just confused with all the information.

They all sat in a circle around you listening to what you told them about how Draco confronted you in the hall, and how you simply ran away from him.

Thankfully the common room was empty since everyone was either asleep or doing a potions essay. Shivering at the thought of the essay due in a couple of days that you haven’t started on.

“Well why didn’t you just tell him that you fancied him?” The weasley asked like it was the simplest thing in the world.

Harry shook his head at his bestfriends words while you and Hermione just rolled your eyes. Godric you loved Ron as a friend but he really couldn’t read a room for his life.

“Well Ronald if you must know he told me in Hogsmeade that he asked damn Pansy Parkinson to the Ball.”

That was news to your friends, this time it was Hermione’s turn to gasp at your words while Ron and Harry jaws had practically dropped to the floor.

They weren’t stupid by no means, it was obvious something happened with you and Draco but none of them would guess something like that could’ve done it.

“Let’s just talk about it tomorrow, yeah?”

————

The conversation did not continue into the next day, a week had pass and it was now the day of the Yule Ball. Obviously you avoided Draco, you could feel him staring at you in the Great hall, in classes, the hallways, everything.

He of course tried to talk to you but thankfully one of your friends were always by your side, one time even the Weasley twins stared him down to get him away from you.

Although you were thankful about your friends being protective, you wished that you could just take a stroll around the school without being followed.

As of now you were sitting in the common room with Harry and Ron, the two boys were talking about dates for the Yule ball while you were writing a letter to Narcissa Malfoy.

It seemed as though Draco didn’t inform her about you ignoring him, since his mother seemed very happy in her letter saying how she wants you to come over during the summer holiday for a week.

Narcissa was a very kind woman and a wonderful mother to her son even if he was a brat sometimes to people. She would be devastated if she found out Draco’s only true friend was purposely ignoring him about a stupid ball.

You decided to simply face Draco, standinf up from the floor just to be asked, “Y/N can you go to the ball with me, I’m only asking because I need one. Just as friends though.”

The boy who lived asked you to the Yule ball. As friends but still. You expected to be standing in the corner watching your friends dance with each other and Draco dancing with Pansy.

But now? Now you can go with one of your best friends and simply enjoy with others although it wouldn’t be as fun if you could dance with Draco. But not everything works out fine.

“Yeah Harry that’s fine.” You could tell by his shoulders going down some to signal that he was less stressed by the pressure of having to find a date, even if it was just a friend. Harry of course would’ve preferred to go with Cho Chang but just like you not everything works out fine.

Ron groaned in his hands, “Blimey i’m the only one that doesn’t have a date in the whole school ain’t I?”

Laughing at Ron’s words, even though he shot a deadly look at you. Harry just rolled his eyes at his friend and thanked you for going with him last minute.

Nodding at his gratitude before sitting back down to finish your homework. It was really last minute since the ball was tomorrow. Which meant Christmas was tomorrow.

———

Waking up to the sound of Lavender squealing about how it was Christmas and the Yule ball. Rolling your eyes at her voice.

Walking down to the common room to see your friends already sitting waiting for you. “Happy christmas.” You grumbled rubbing your eyes.

Opening up your presents, A couple muggle books for Hermione that she heard you talking about, Ron gave you a chess board claiming that “it can finally help you beat me.” Harry got you some new quills since you were running low on them.

Opening up one last gift you already knew who it was that gave it to you. He still cared enough to give you a Christmas gift. Unwrapping the small gift to see a small box which opened.

Opening it up to see a necklace with a small black swan it. Just like how he said his ornament was going to be. You hadn’t looked at the trees at all so you had no idea if he did stick to his end of the deal, you did though.

Putting the necklace on and it felt right at home like it’s been there ever since you were born. Maybe you should try to talk to Draco tonight at the ball.

Hermione pulled you up to the dorm to get ready for the ball. Although you weren’t all that nervous but Hermione was rambling about how she hopes she doesn’t embarrass herself in front of Viktor and everyone during the opening dance of the champions.

Now your stomach was doing flips, you completely forgot about having to dance with Harry in front of everybody. You weren’t nervous about dancing with him, just hoping that you wouldn’t end up tripping and falling in front of everyone.

You assured Hermione that everything would be fine with Viktor and how great they would be tonight together.

———

Doing the last finishing touches on yourself, your hair was now done, along with your makeup. Hermione left just a few minutes ago. Realizing that you were running out of time and quickly put on your dress.

Harry told you that he was wearing simple black robes so the color of your dress didn’t have to match with his thankfully. You had chosen a simple long green dress. Making sure that you still wore your necklace you received this morning.

Walking out of the Gryffindor common room and down the steps to where mostly everyone was waiting to go. The hall erupted into whispers with everyone gasping and pointing up at you.

You saw Harry standing with the other champions by the doors which were starting to open. You locked eyes with a pair of grey ones. Bloody hell did Draco look nice tonight.

Putting on a normal face while walking by him. Feeling him pull your arm towards him and him leaning down to whisper in your ear. “You should’ve been here tonight with me. Not potter, not that damn Steven Bottom either.” He whispered with no remorse in his voice. It was all in a demanding type of way.

Swallowing nothing in your mouth before walking away and up to Harry. You could feel the blood rush up to your face. “What did Malfoy want?”

“I’ll um tell you later.”

Nodding at your response. After a short while everyone was in the great hall and it was time for the Champions to come in.

Now you were on the dance floor with Harry and the other Champions. Looking over at Hermione to see her smiling at Viktor. You saw Ron standing next to Padma looking like he would rather get bit by Sirius in his dog form again.

You felt someone staring holes into the back of your head. You didn’t even need to turn around to know that it was a Malfoy.

The music started playing, you and Harry started dancing together. It was just two friends dancing together. The opening dance didn’t take long thankfully and Harry excused himself to talk to Ron.

Nodding at him while deciding to go talk to a few of your other friends. Stopping by Fred, George and Angelina to talk with them.

Walking over to the trees which were decorated. You were informed that the professors decided what was the best ornaments and they would be hung up. Right dead in the center of the biggest tree was a Black swan right next to a White one.

So he did stick to his end of the deal. Smiling softly at the thought of Draco. Interrupting your thoughts was a cough next to you. It was Draco you recognized it immediately, since it was his fake one which he used to get your attention in class.

“They make quite a good match dont they?” He said more like a statement than question. Nodding at him, what he said earlier in the hall still hadn’t left your mind. That’s all you could think about.

“I mean what I said earlier, I shouldn’t have been such an idiot about not asking you to the ball. I’ve fancied you since second year and I have no clue why I haven’t done anything about it.” Taking a deep breath at his words before going on, “It made me feel some type of way when you said Bottom was practically asking you to this and when I saw you with damn Potter. It just wasn’t right. You should be my date right now.”

Taken aback by Draco Malfoy basically love confession to you. Taking a glance at him to see he was staring right at you waiting for your response. “Your a bloody idiot you know that right? You're lucky I fancy you to.”

He seemed visibly relieved by your words. He took a step closer to you, closing the distance “So you wouldn’t be bothered if I did this then?”

Letting out a weak no to his question before he leaned down and connected your lips with his. It was pure bliss, nothing you’ve ever felt before with a person.

Breaking the kiss between you two, the slytherin stood up straight.

“I believe you owe me a dance.”

———

Taglist

@le000xxgrd @ttsbaby01 @princessvader15 @naya29 @ashdoctor

#draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #y/n #harry potter x you #harry potter x reader #yule ball #harry potter #part 2 #harry #draco malfoy #draco malfoy one shot #harry potter oneshot

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topguncortez · 1 year ago

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All My Heart & All My Being | Jake x Shy!Wifey

opposites attract masterlist | main masterlist

synopsis: Jake & Y/N are given devastating news on what was supposed to be a routine midwife visit. Jake navigates how to tell his kids about the circle of life.

word count: 2.8k

warnings: miscarriage, tears, fear of doctors, cursing, talks of death, canon character death, mentions of depression, mentions of stillbirths

note: miscarriages happen in 1 out of 4 pregnancies. Most miscarriages are spontaneous, meaning that you did nothing to cause it. miscarriages are never your fault, and it doesn't make you any less of a parent. Angel baby parents are still parents.

Jake couldn’t hide his excitement. It was Y/N’s second ultrasound since she had discovered she was pregnant. It was the appointment where they were finally going to hear their baby’s heartbeat. Even though they had been here twice before, the same butterflies and nervous feelings still arose in their bellies. Jake was trying his best to not crush Y/N’s hand with his strong grip as they waited for the doctor to come in.

Jake was halfway out of the chair he was sitting in, at eye level with Y/N’s bare belly. His eyes were wide as he was retelling the story of his last dogfight with Rooster and Coyote. Y/N couldn’t help the smile on her face as she ran her hand through his soft blonde hair.

“And then, I broke right, turning right into the sun with Rooster still hot on my tail, but the ol’ man still hasn’t learned any new tricks,” Jake laughed, “He lost me in the sun, and I was able to turn quickly and get behind him to get missile lock on him.”

“Going to turn this one into an aviator before they’re even born,” Y/N giggled. Jake looked up at her with pure admiration and love in his green eyes.

“They’ve got a handful of uncles and aunts who will turn them into an aviator if I don’t,” Jake said as there was a soft knock on the door. Y/N sat up on her elbows and told whoever it was to come in, but Jake’s eyebrows furrowed at the young nurse who walked through the door, “Where’s Doctor Carpenter?”

The nurse smiled at him as she walked to the ultrasound machine, “She’s with another mother right now, but she’ll be here soon.” Y/N nodded and laid back down on the exam table, “My name is Margaret, and I’ll be doing the initial look, taking a few pictures and then Doctor Carpenter will be in.”

“Okay,” Y/N nodded, feeling the grip of nerves in her throat. Jake could feel the anxiety rolling off his wife in waves and squeezed his wife’s hand. Y/N looked over at him, as Jake raised their conjoined hands to his lips and placed a kiss on the back of her hand.

“How have you been feeling, Mrs. Seresin?” Margaret asked.

“Oh please, call me Y/N,” Y/N said softly, “I’ve been feeling more tired than usual with this one. It’s our third baby,” Jake gave her hand a squeeze, “But lately, my back has been hurting, I’ve had these weird dizzy spells, just overall felt like crap.”

Margaret nodded as she put some of the cool gel on Y/N’s belly. Y/N let out a shaky breath as Margaret pressed the transducer to Y/N’s lower belly. She always hated this part of the exam, feeling like her bladder was going to explode from the pressure.

Jake sucked in a breath as he watched Y/N stare up at the ceiling. She was uncomfortable and Jake hated that. “Did you hear about Dragon’s wedding present for Rooster?” Y/N looked at her husband and shook her head, “Well apparently, it was a fancy little picture book. Rooster was actually speechless, and you know that man is nev-”

“How far along are you?” Margaret asked, interrupting Jake. He looked up at her, noticing the pinched look on her face.

“12 weeks,” Y/N nodded, “But isn’t that on my chart?”

Margaret nodded and plastered a fake smile on her face, “Y-yeah, yes, it’s just that-”

Jake’s shoulders squared as he stood up from his seat, “That what? What’s wrong?”

Margaret set the transducer down and turned to face both of them, “I’m not seeing anything on the ultrasound.”

“What?” Y/N looked from the nurse to Jake and back at the nurse. She felt her heart start to race as she pushed herself up on her elbows, “There’s. . .there’s no baby? I lost the-”

“I don’t know,” Margaret said, “I-I’m not really authorized to read-”

“How about you go find someone who is?” Jake said sternly, crossing his arms over his chest. Margaret nodded rapidly and scurried out of the room with her head down. Jake scoffed and ran his hand through his hair, his jaw clenched shut, “What a fucking joke. Can you-” He looked down at his wife to find tears running down her cheeks, “Hey, sweets, what’s wrong?”

“There’s no baby,” Y/N cried, and Jake wrapped her in his strong embrace.

“We don’t know that,” Jake said, his voice strong and steady, “The nurse even said she’s not authorized to read it.” He pulled Y/N away from his chest and held her face in his hands. She looked up into his green eyes, “You hear me? We can’t jump to conclusions yet.” Y/N closed her eyes and nodded her head, not really believing a word Jake said. And to be honest, he wasn’t even sure if he believed what he said either.

Jake gently shifted Y/N’s body so he could sit on the edge of the small exam table and hold his wife. They waited in painful silence for the doctor to come in. The only sound was the occasional sniffle from Y/N, which was followed by Jake pressing his lips to the top of her head. A small knock pulled them out of their quiet embrace as their usual doctor walked into the room. Jake felt some relief in his body, but the look on the doctor’s face didn’t help ease much of it.

“I’m sorry for the wait,” Doctor Carpenter said, giving them both a sad smile, “Let’s see what’s going on.” She quickly went to the ultrasound machine. Jake moved off the exam table and stood by her side, holding her hand in both of his.

Doctor Carpenter did the same thing as the nurse had done previously, putting the cold gel on Y/N’s belly and spreading it around her lower abdomen. Y/N looked up at the ceiling as Jake’s eyes were on the black-and-white screen in front of him. Doctor Carpenter worked in silence as she moved the transducer around, freezing on a spot, and taking a picture, before moving to another spot. The silence stretched for about ten minutes before Doctor Carpenter sighed, and placed the transducer down.

Y/N closed her eyes as she felt Doctor Carpenter’s eyes on her. She couldn’t hear the words that came out of the doctor’s mouth but felt Jake squeeze her hand.

“I’m sorry, Y/N and Jake, but there isn’t a viable fetus present,” Doctor Carpenter said, “I’m afraid Y/N has had what we call a spontaneous miscarriage. It doesn’t present like a normal. . .”

It was all a blur after that.

She could hear the door to the exam room shut. She could feel Jake move to lean over her and run a hand through her hair. She could faintly make out the sound of his voice as he spoke to her. She could feel him hold her in his arms, rubbing her back and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. She could hear him sniffle and wipe away the tears from under his eyes.

The car ride home was quiet, as Y/N leaned her head against the window, looking at the familiar landscape pass her by. Jake would occasionally glance over at her, noticing the hand that sat protectively on her belly. He shifted in his seat and looked at his wife again.

Jake cleared his throat, “Are you in pain?”

“Not physically,” Y/N answered, “It’s just. . . when you think about a miscarriage or losing a baby, you imagine blood and pain, not. . .” Y/N fought back tears, her mind trying to come up with the right words to say. Jake reached his hand across the center console and grabbed hers. Neither of them said another word as they drove the rest of the way home.

When they arrived home, Jake noticed Amelia Benjamin’s bike by the front door. She usually babysat the kids after school while Jake & Y/N were at work. It was supposed to be a happy night, while Jake and Y/N shared pictures of their unborn child, and listen as Alex and Ella argued about whether it was going to be a boy or a girl. Now, all Y/N felt was dread of having to face her children and her parents.

“Why don’t you go into the house from the garage and up the back steps,” Jake said, looking at his wife, “And I’ll go corral the kids to the backyard.” Y/N nodded her head in agreement, “I’ll be up soon and draw you a bath-”

“I just want to lay in bed,” Y/N said, looking at Jake, “I’m okay. . . or I will be anyway.”

Jake gave her a smile. Y/N was one of the toughest women he knew. She had to be tough when being married to an aviator. Nothing in Jake’s life was ever promised and Y/N had known that first hand. She had watched as partners of fellow aviators had been given folded flags instead of getting to hug their loved ones again. She always feared losing Jake, never one of her own babies.

“I’m going to go in now,” Y/N said and Jake nodded.

“Y/N,” Jake called her name as he stepped out of the truck. She looked up at him, “I love you, with all my heart and all my being.”

Y/N smiled, “I love you too, with all my heart and all my being.”

Jake took a moment, trying to gather his thoughts as he watched Y/N walk into the house. He turned the truck off and gathered his duffle bag from the back seat, before making his way to the backyard where he could hear the loud laughter of his kids.

The second that Jake opened the gate to the backyard, Alex and Ella ran right to him. He greeted them with his usual bright smile and kiss on the cheek. He thanked Amelia for watching them and paid her. Then he stood on the front porch with Alex and Ella as Amelia rode her bike the two blocks it took to get to her house.

“C’mon, let’s go get a snack,” Jake said, leading his kids inside the house. Alex climbed up on the stool at the kitchen island, while Jake sat Ella down on hers. He cut them up an apple, splitting it between the two of them, and giving them each a big dollop of peanut butter to go with.

“Where’s Mommy?” Alex asked, looking around the kitchen for the usual bright ball of sunshine that was Y/N Seresin.

“She’s uh,” Jake cleared his throat, “She’s not feeling well. She’s laying down right now.”

“What wrong wit Mommy?” Ella asked, looking up at Jake with those big green eyes. Jake knew that at some point in time, they needed to talk to the kids about what happened, but he was hoping that he would have some time to gather his thoughts before telling them. If it was up to Jake, he would wait to talk to them, but he also knew that Y/N hated keeping things from them.

“Your mommy,” Jake shook his head, “We found out today that. . . we lost the baby.” The room was silent for a moment as the five and two-and-a-half-year-old were trying to come to terms with what their father just said. How does one even explain the circle of life to kids?

“How?” Ella asked.

“I’m not really sure, Elles,” Jake said, running his hand over her blonde hair, “Sometimes, it just happens. There’s no explanation. There’s no reason. Sometimes, God decides he needs the baby a bit more than we do.”

Alex blinked a couple of times, staring at the bottom wrung of the chair that Steve had chewed up, “Is that Baby with Uncle Bradley’s mom and dad?”

Jake nodded, “Yeah. The baby is with Uncle Bradley’s mom and Dad, and Grandpa Seresin, and the dog your mommy had as a child, and Aunt Dragon’s babies.”

“I don’t wike that,” Ella pouted, as the tears slowly started to roll down her cheeks. Jake cooed and walked over to her, picking her up in his arms, and holding her head against his chest as she cried.

“I know, baby girl, I know,” Jake sniffled, “No one does. It’s hard to lose the people you love,” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, “All we can do now, is show mama some love, give her some extra cuddles. She’s going to be sad for a while.”

“I wanna go to Mommy,” Ella mumbled and Jake nodded. He carried Ella in his arms and walked up the stairs toward their shared room. Alex stayed in his spot, still staring at that beat-up wrung of the stool.

Jake knocked softly on the bedroom door, waiting for the invite from Y/N to let him in. He knew not to overcrowd her and make her feel uncomfortable. Sometimes Y/N reminded him of a scared, feral dog that had been kicked one too many times. But her quiet, soft voice granted him permission to come in, and Jake gently pushed the door open.

Y/N was facing the door and looked up to see her baby girl with tears rolling down her cheeks. Y/N gave Jake a sad smile and shifted a bit in bed to make room for Ella. Silently, Jake stepped across the threshold and brought Ella to Y/N.

“My baby girl, what are the tears for?” Y/N asked Ella, as Jake pulled back the covers and gently placed her next to her mom.

“I don’t want you to be sad,” Ella mumbled, tears welling up in her eyes.

“I know,” Y/N said softly, “I’ll only be sad for a little while, I promise.” She pulled Ella in close to her chest and rubbed her back. Ella was like Jake in so many ways, that the small gesture was a sure way to make them both fall asleep.

Jake smiled at his girls before returning downstairs to make Y/N some tea. Alex was still in the same spot as he was when Jake went upstairs. He eyed his child as he filled and set the kettle on the stove. Jake always felt like he had a hard time connecting with Alex. Y/N was already four months pregnant with him when Jake came home from a mission. And Jake had to leave when he was only three months old for another mission. Alex was also the complete opposite of his father and Jake struggled to find things they had in common.

“What’re you thinking about, Lex?” Jake asked, leaning against the counter.

“Do you know where I can get white roses?” Alex said, looking up at his dad. Jake’s eyebrows furrowed, “Uncle Rooster always gets Aunt Dragon white roses on Ida’s birthday. He says they are for membrance.”

“Remembrance,” Jake said, “And I think I know a place where we can get some.”

— — —

Three days later, Jake and Alex were in the middle of Y/N’s garden, while she sat in a chair with Ella. Doctor Carpenter told her to take the next couple of days easy while her body and mind processed the news of the miscarriage. The kids had been a great help, keeping Y/N’s mind off the loss and giving her the extra cuddles that she didn’t know she needed.

“White Roses love the sun,” Y/N said, as Alex finished digging the whole, “You picked a perfect spot, Alex.”

The little boy wiped the sweat from his brow as Jake brought over the poted plant, “Thanks, momma.”

“Alright Ella, you want to come help with this?” Jake asked, and the little girl happily obliged. She wiggled out of her moms lap and walked over to where the two boys were standing.

Jake gently pulled the rose bush from the bucket it sat in, remembering all the critiques Y/N gave him while he helped her plant to other flowers in the garden. Ella and Alex cupped the bottom of the plant as they gently eased it into the hole. Y/N stood up from her chair and walked over to her family, watching as the kids covered the base of the rose bush with fresh soil. She felt the sting of tears in her eyes as Jake put his arm around her, pulling her flush against his side.

“There!” Alex said, clapping the dirt off of his hands, “Do you like it?!”

“We love it, baby,” Jake smiled, “Now come here! Family hug!” Y/N giggled as the kids ran right towards their legs, hugging them tightly, “I love you guys, with all my heart, and all my being.”

taglist: @damrlova @shanimallina87 @phoenix1388 @mygyn @cherrycola27 @yanna-banana @seitmai @topgun-imagines @bradleybeachbabe @na-ta-sh-aa @startrekfangirl2233 @xoxabs88xox @atarmychick007 @lunamoonbby @sophiaslastbraincell @bradswolfe @fandom-princess-forevermore @dempy @lovelywiseprincess @krismdavis @eternallyvenus @dakotakazansky @pono-pura-vida @callsignharper @callsignartemis @starberryhorse @daggersquadphantom @gspenc @poppyalice2001 @els-marvelvsp @nyx2021 @t0kyoreveng3rs @frazie99 @spencvrr @kmc1989 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @toobouquet @malindacath @justenoughmadness @sagittarius-flowerchild

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beababoobies · 10 months ago

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hiii :3 i saw you were askin for some sallyface requests, and i happen to be obsessed so. i am here ‼️‼️‼️🗣️🗣️

could you pretty please write a sal x gender neutral/fem (whichever you want!) reader, where sal mentions that he hasn’t had his first kiss yet so reader offers to be his?? super fluffy, maybe a first time seeing him w/out his prosthetic sprinkled in there, a bit of hurt/comfort? TY TY TY teehee 🫶🏼🤎🤎🤎

Hello my lovely! I will be using a gender neutral reader for this as my last req. was a fem reader! I hope you don't mind & I loved writing this!

First Kiss - Sal Fisher x GN!Reader

words: 0.9k

You were sitting on your apartment balcony with Sal, playing a couple card games to pass the time. Chatting then and now as you played, but mostly you doing the talking. Sal wasn't much of a Talker, but he was a lovely listener, which is exactly one of the things you loved so much about the soft blueberry haired boy. One of.

Some of the other many things you liked about him included, but not limited to, his pale skin littered with small red scarred-out patches, his fluffy orange Maine Coon, Gizmo, who would always come up and lay himself across your torso whenever you were laying on his living room floor, his piercingly blue fake eye and his greyed out real one, and the way he always knew what was wrong, how to help you, and what you needed. He wasn't a talker, no, but he was an observer.

Speaking of observing, you may or may not have been staring down at your hand of cards for the past minute or two while you thought about it in silence. He had just sat there, looking across at you silently while you lose yourself in your thoughts. You perked up with a sigh, placing a card on the pile.

"Sorry." You muttered quietly, taking a deep breath of the outside air, piercing your lips together as you let your eyes scan between your hand and the balcony floor, trying to decipher if Sal had swapped anything while you were lost in thought. "Have you ever been in a relationship? Like.. a romantic one?" He asks quietly, scanning over his hand a couple times, then his eyes went to yours, then, you swore, for a split second, to your lips, and back to the pile of cards, where he carefully placed a queen of hearts.

"Yeah, I suppose. Not very serious ones, didn't mean as much as I would've wanted them to." You respond, sighing out the last part of the sentence, looking up at him as you forfeit a card. "What about you?" you asked with a tilt of your head, trying to read his expression through his mask like you usually did. When his eyes weren't looking one way or another, it was completely impossible to discern what he may be thinking.

"Me? No. People have told me their friends fancied me as a joke before, though." He says flatly, taking another card from the pile and immediately discarding it. Looking away from his hand and properly up at you, leaning back a bit. You swallow thickly as you scan over the cards laid across the wood of your balcony, turning your attention from the game to him as well, nearly jumping out of your skin when you realize he was looking right back at you.

"No First kiss, then?" You ask with a curious tilt of your head, quietly waiting for an answer as you played with the cards in your hands, still keeping eye contact, but it was his turn to look away. He didn't say anything, just embarrasingly nodding to the floor. You nodded back in understanding, before blushing, swallowing whatever guilty you had left about this situation.

“you know, if you, just wanted to um, get it out of the way, I wouldn’t mind helping you out.” You say, admittedly a bit shakily as you force yourself to look at him in the eyes again. He doesn’t respond for a good minute, staring at the card pile, before nodding slowly, not saying a word, or even looking up at you.

“Y-You’re gonna have to take off the mask, Sal.” You mutter softly, watching his hands make their way to the back of his head, hearing a small ‘click’ sound, watching him take the mask off. You probably looked stupid, sitting there just looking at him, blush spread across your cheeks. He didn’t look up for a while, but when he did, he had tears in his eyes.

“please don’t just stare like that.” He said, and the tiny crack in his voice as he spoke all so softly completely broke your heart as you leaned in, cupping his soft pale face in your hand, eyes trailing around the long strawberry scars on his face, breath hitching softly. “‘M sorry.” You mumble out quietly watching as his eye travels all over your expression anxiously, the other glass one staring straight back at you. “You’re just so pretty..” you mumble out, and before you knew it, his lips were on yours.

Kissing you like his life depended on it, almost desperate but so lovingly, his scarred upper lip pushing up against your full lips, your hands going to tangle in his hair, accidentally almost pushing him over as you climbed closer to him, kissing the boy you knew loved you back so dearly. You finally broke away for fresh air, breathing heavily as you held onto his shoulders, taking a moment before looking back at him.

“holy shit.” He muttered softly, hands on your waist as he looked up at you with wide eyes, trying to slow his own heartbeat and breathing, before leaning in and giving you a soft kiss on the cheek, pressing his forehead up against yours. “Why did it take me that long to kiss you?” He breathes out, and you chuckle softly, and he chuckles, and you’re both laughing so sweetly, and you’re in the arms of the boy you love so much. The arms of the boy who loves you more.

~~~~

sorry this was on the shorter side! I got my nails done for the first time and.. typing hard. :( but I hope you enjoyed and ur username is so cute teehee <;3

#sal fisher #sally face x reader #sal fisher x reader #sal fisher x y/n #sally face #sally fisher

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fan-goddess · 9 months ago

Text

Chapter Five: Loving your husband

Catch up on the fic here!

Chapter Summary: You’ve arrived at your new home, and Abraham it seems has already decided on how he wants the night to go. But will your anxieties stray him away from his original plan?

Authors Note: Thank you to everyone who’s been on this Abraham journey with me! If not for your support I wouldn’t have had the motivation to finish this! So thank you again my loves ♥️♥️♥️♥️

Taglist: @valeskafics, @omgbrcat @humanpurposes, @watercolorskyy, @blue-serendipity @anjelicawrites @lexwolfhale @helaenaluvr @scarletbedlam @tssf-imagines @vhagar-balerion-meraxes @arcielee @targaryenbarbie @ilikechocolatemilkh @tumblin-theworldaway @skintoskinsstuff

Warnings: Nicknames, dirty talk, p in v sex, teasing, kissing, soft at fuck, teeth rotting, angst, f oral, consent checks, praise kink, breeding kink, probably an incorrect description of a virgin losing there virginity, (if I miss any let me know!)

“I think, if it’s alright with you little, we continue what you left me with at the stables…”

You lean into his touch eagerly, and yet you cannot deny the familiar mix of anxiety and sadness that wallows in your stomach at his words alone. Guilt rising steadily up your throat and bubbling within your whole body.

It’s so obvious though that Abraham can clearly see it in your eyes alone. To him, they appear glaze over in thought so deep that it’s only when his thumb softly grazes your bottom lip, do you snap out of your trance.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, an unfamiliar look of sincerity on his face.

“It’s nothing…” You murmur, but still, Abraham appears unconvinced. Especially with how he grips your chin firmly to force you to look at him whilst your mouth opens in a silent gasp.

“No no no, none of that little one. Tell me what’s wrong, or I’ll have to make sure I punish it out of you. And I don’t think I want to be doing that to you on our wedding night.” His whole body practically oozes with confidence as his words are purred with such dominance, that at that moment, you can’t help but deny the feelings his words seem to have ignited within you. You can’t help but think about how his words haven’t made you want to withhold your answer for just a little while longer, just so you can witness what this so called punishment would exactly entail. Still though, the underlying guilt that had clawed its way from your throat earlier wins your minds inner tennis match, so even if you didn’t want to say it, the words still can’t seem to stop themselves from spilling out of you quickly like water from a broken pipe.

“I’m a coward…” You mumble, eyes looking as far down they can while your hands clasp onto Abrahams wedding jacket that you’re surprised he hasn’t taken off yet, given the fact you’d assume he’d get uncomfortable being in such fancy clothes for such a long time. “I couldn’t admit to my feelings to you in the stables, and I ran from you when I shouldn’t have. I’m so sorry Abraham…”

An uncomfortable silence rings through the air, only broken by the deep breathes coming from yours and Abrahams chests. Yet you can’t help but lightly gasp at the sudden feeling of Abraham’s hand tightly clasping your body and his lips leaving a firm kiss on your forehead.

“Don’t you dare be sorry little one,” He whispers deep into your skin, and you can feel the emotional undertones underneath his words as they effectively manage to pour themselves over you. “I understood. I was… inconsiderate when I told you about how I felt about you. I didn’t think about your own feelings. How my words would affect that pretty little head of yours like it did. I’m sorry for being a massive fucking idiot who only thought about themself.”

Abrahams silent as he allows you to continue to hold him and think. That is however, before you pull him down into a deep kiss, and somehow in his moment of shock, manage to push him against the nearest wall and hold him there without a single murmur of a fuss.

“We’re both stupid…” You murmur against his lips, his own mouth though eager and embarrassingly enough really fucking desperate for a taste you, as he tries to reclaim his earlier dominance. Even though he can’t deny how much your uncharacteristic act of confidence has affected him. Especially with how he finds himself unable to ignore the harsh ache radiating from his cock that you gave him.

He tries to ignore it though to the best of his ability by making sure he kisses you back fiercely. His tongue sneaking itself into your mouth to caress your own in a wet and hot kiss, so that by the end of it, the two of you are red cheeked and breathless. Practically panting into each other’s mouths as you admire each other’s broken down selves.

“So fucking beautiful…” He murmurs, giving you one last but deep kiss on your lips, before he all of a sudden grabs you while you shriek in surprise. You cannot see where the two of you are heading, but you can’t deny the fact thatyou very much hope he’s leading you to where lies his -no, the both of yours’- bedroom.

You give the room a once over as Abraham places you surprisingly gently on the bed, and you can’t help but feel genuinely surprised by what you see. For one, it’s actually clean. The bed you could tell looked pre-made before he’d put you down, and there were no dirty clothes flung about the room like most other boys rooms seemed to have. If you could you’d have observed longer, but Abraham makes sure to quickly drag you from your thoughts once more as he dots wet kisses along the curve of your neck, most likely leaving marks with how fiercely he’s currently claiming you.

He doesn’t even stop his assault on you though as he murmurs another a question to you, but that doesn’t mean you don’t hear it. If anything, you can’t help but think it’s the clearest thing he’s said to you all night, and it leaves your lower half tingling in anticipation. “Can I undress you?” He’d murmured, stopping only to look at you with those intense blue eyes of his that leave you utterly desperate for more.

You nod, too worried that you’d let something unsavoury slip if you dared opened your mouth. But Abraham it appears is less than pleased at your lack of an answer, as in retaliation he lightly bites at your collarbone, drawing a sound from your lips you didn’t even realise at first you’d made.

“I won’t accept that answer little one. Answer me. Speak.”

“Y-yes you can undress me husband…” You say, and from his reaction, it was exactly what he wanted to hear. He pulls you up slightly so he could reach the back of your dress where all the complicated buttons for your dress lay to be conquered, and by the way Abrahams face was slowly turning red and his brows were furrowing, he was definitely not having a very successful time conquering. You can’t help but giggle at how the situation has turned, but his fierce stare turns to you suddenly, and the laughter quickly dies on your tongue.

“Oh you think this is funny do you?” He growls. His fingers once softly touching your back now gripping the delicate fabric with no thought to your possibly discomfort, which to be honest was anything but that. “I’m trying to be good… so don’t you go about tempting me to just rip this thing off and take you where you lay. You don’t deserve that treatment… not this early at least…”

You whimper at his words, and yet the imagery of what he could do to you hits you hard and fast. While you were innocent in body, you were certainly not exactly innocent in mind. Flashbacks of a younger you gasping and giggling with a hand over your mouth at the lewd tales of what men and women do, hidden within the back shelf books of the adult section.

“Are you listening to me doll?” Abraham murmurs, biting slightly on the reachable skin of your chest to draw you from your thoughts once more. It seemed your brain was all over the place and unable to stay in the moment you most wanted to be, much to your own annoyance. “I can’t be good for you if you can’t even bloody listen to me.”

“I’m sorry…” You whisper, eyes closed as you relish in his almost sinful feeling touches. “I’ll be good, I swear!” You shuffle yourself away from him slightly and carefully manage to unbutton the mass of buttons on your back, trying hard not to giggle at Abraham face while he looks at you in disbelief when you manage to take the white dress off your body and place it carefully on a random chair within a few minutes. “See!”

You move your hands in a mock sort of demonstration, and yet Abrahams eyes are not on them. They’re very clearly on your breasts, that are currently naked and clear for him to see and ogle at to his hearts content.

“You say you’re a good girl, but here you are, braless. I don’t think good girls do that sort of thing darling. Only naughty little girls who let any kind of fella fuck them do that. But you aren’t one of those sorts of girls, are you little sweetling?” His words drip with sweet nectar, and like an innocent bee you’re lead straight to it all too easily and naively. His touch alone on your now bare skin feeling practically electric and addictive. Even his words practically make you dizzy. It’s all so overwhelming you almost forget what’s expected of you tonight. You almost somehow manage to forget that tonight, you’ll be losing your virginity to him.

You can feel Abrahams hands and lips giving pure devotion to your uncovered breasts. The whole act leaving small gasps leaving your lips when he bites down slightly at random intervals, leaving you completely on the tip of your toes. It’s a completely intoxicating feeling you never want to stop.

Only you’re so caught up in the feeling of pleasure Abraham provides you, mixed with the anxiety of the night, you don’t feel his lips beginning to kiss down your body, leaving small marks in his wake as he makes his way to your underwear. That is where he stops though and looks back up at you with hooded, almost predatory eyes. So dark it was if you were looking at the night sky, all the possibly constellations old and new included.

“Look at me.” He commands, your anxieties and previous thoughts stripping away the moment you make eye contact with him. “Now tell me. Clearly. Can I take these off you?”

“Yes…” You say almost instinctively. Like you didn’t even need to think about it at all. Though as Abraham is about to take your underwear in his hands, you can’t help yourself but ask Abraham your own small question.

“Can’t I see you though?” You whisper, looking up at him with such innocent eyes that it leaves Abraham seemingly speechless as he practically gapes at you from bellow. You almost believe he didn’t hear you the first time, and are about to repeat it for a second, when he responds with a very enthusiastic, “Of course!” before moving to undress himself. Every item of clothing that he strips himself off leaving your mouth wider and wider open.

By the end of it, when he’s left in front of you in only his off-white boxers and his golden chain that hangs around his neck, and you’re practically breathless and shaking as you lay there half naked yourself. Your eyes unable to look themselves away from him as you make sure to admire every single part of him with your eyes. You can’t help but notice how the chain contrasts almost sinfully against his skin, though what really takes your interest, is the tattoo on his back you see when he turns around. The tattoo that had brought your such invigorated attention to him barely even two months ago.

“What’s the meaning?” You find yourself asking. Watching as a pauses and tried to peer at his back to see where it was you were looking while his back was to you.

Like you had thought to yourself earlier, compared to the other tattoos it was definitely softer. Especially since how now you could really look at it and admire it. Abraham sat half naked in front of you back to your chest, and your hand seems to almost move to touch it instinctively. Too curious in your nature to think about asking permission to touch him. Though you definitely noticed the way his body seemed to shiver at the feel of your skin on his.

It’s a lily, you eventually realise looking at it more closely. A Lilly of the valley flower.

“I got it when my mother left.” Abraham explained. The warmth of his back rumbling under his words. “I never resented her for what she did. I understood it. But I just thought, if she can’t be here with me, then at least she could be here someway or another...”

Unlike the unnerving and uncomfortable silence from before, this time it’s layered with a deep underlying sense of trust and devotion. Yet even still, too worried about a hidden meaning for it and what could be going on in your pretty little head, Abraham is all too prepared to turn around and look you in the eye. That is however, before every thought in his head manages to pause, once he feels your soft warm lips kissing the inked flower so softly, that he could barely feel it. Your hands, being the delicate things they are, rub up and down the right side of his body so tenderly he almost thinks clouds have fallen into his and your bedroom.

Yet still, as this is all happening so quickly, he cannot deny how it’s made him feel. How with a slight wave of emotion coming over him, he realises how your actions have made him feel so loved so quickly.

“Well it’s beautiful…” You murmur, laying the side of your head on his back as you move to wrap your arms around his torso. Even smiling against his skin as you feel Abrahams arms tightly hold onto yours with a possessiveness only he could provide you with. “You’re beautiful…”

This time, Abraham is able to sense the comfort in this bout of silence that the two of you bask in, and how the sound of his and yours breath, as well as the feeling of the both of yours’ hearts beating in your chests, is easily the most relaxing feeling in the world.

The two of you have no idea how long you were basking in each others holds, but the only thing you do know, is that Abraham very nearly scares you to death when he turns around suddenly and kisses you so deeply you almost let out a noise of shock. He kisses you so deeply in fact though that he pushes you easily so you fall with your back to the bed, and his frame is hovering over you, trapping you against him, not that you minded of course.

His tongue swipes at the entrance of your mouth and you open it cautiously, though you definitely can say you’re surprised with how much you find yourself enjoying the feeling of his tongue caressing yours. Unlike earlier when the two of your were focused on the action, you realise now that you’re able to bask in him whole, you can taste the whisky that he drank earlier on your lips and tongue. But it’s mixed with a smell that’s just so Abraham, that you can’t really define it as anything else. You’re not lying when you tell yourself that your husband seems to be addictive in every aspects of himself.

His hands appear to rediscover your body with a new sense of passion, as there’s not a single patch of skin that isn’t soon touched by Abrahams fingertips. His lips leaving small pools of spit with how long he makes sure to kiss and worship the skin, small murmurs of affirmation following after each time. By the end, your skin felt as if it was on fire with it all. So warm and sensitive with each word from his charm cursed lips. You had no idea Abraham was such a sweet talker, but like all other aspects you’ve discovered of his, he’s mastered it flawlessly.

Though when Abraham eventually gets to your underwear once again, he looks back up at you with if possible, even more lustful eyes than before, and repeats the very same question he’d asked earlier. “Can I take these off you?” To which you eagerly nod and verbalise your agreement, sending Abraham into what you could only describe as being a frenzy.

His hands eagerly rip off the underwear off, throwing them somewhere in the room blind as his eyes widen looking only at your lower half. You try to lean up to see him, but one of his hands quickly moves to push you back down onto your back so your eyes can only stare at the ceiling above you.

Yet even so, your eyes find themselves quickly shutting as you suddenly find yourself absolutely immersed in pleasure. Abrahams fingers you can feel to your surprise, tracing against your leaking pussy eagerly, and with obvious experience, as he seems to already know where to stroke and where to give special focus too. The feelings he provides only heightening when a single finger of his is pushed slowly inside of you, prodding something of yours deep within you that leaves your hips somehow already wriggling to get closer to him, to the addictive pleasure he provides you with. The books you had looked at when you were a teenager certainly hadn’t ever talked about this…

Yet when you feel something else down there, you quickly realise it to be Abraham’s tongue on you, and that’s when you feel like you’ve gone absolutely mad. You can’t hear yourself, but later on that night, Abraham will tell you how your voice went so loud, so wanton even, that he almost needed to place a hand over your mouth in fear that your parents, who mind you lived on the other side of the caravan sight, would hear you. He’d say it with such a smug face you couldn’t help but smack him with a pillow, drawing a chuckle from the poor man who mocked an injury.

“Fucking delicious…” You hear him grunt, mixed with the embarrassing sounds of your own wetness, and you feel your face turn a whole new shade of red from it all.

It’s a different feeling you have bubbling in your belly from the one you felt when you rarely would pleasure yourself in your bed. Yet this is a hotter feeling somehow, and a thousand times more intense. So intense even, that you feel your hips judder and jerk away from Abraham’s hold, to which he merely tightens his hands to lock onto your skin and makes his movements faster within you.

You feel your eyes beginning to roll into the back of your head and as it all begins to go quiet, you can feel your thighs begin shaking, cramping even from the way you try to clench them harder around Abrahams head to keep him where he was, in fear for some unknown reason to you he’d move away. Though when you try to tell him what it is you’re feeling, it’s almost as if he already knows. Only chuckling with a mocking amusement when he hears your pitiful attempt at words and going back to what he was doing. Making you feel utterly complete and meaningful.

When you feel what must be an orgasm shatter through you, it’s like a blinding hot pleasure is travelling throughout your whole entire being. Your lungs feel as if they’re about to collapse with how hard you try to bring the air you’d lost back into your body, and your legs begin to make you wince as they start to ache slightly. Though when you make eyes with Abraham after you somehow manage recover, you feel your air go right back out of you when you see him looking at with such hunger, such desire, that for once in your life, you felt wanted more than anything.

But with the way Abraham finally pulls down his underwear and reveals himself in all his glory too you, you’re very much fiercely brought back to the thoughts of your earlier anxieties.

Oh my god how big is that thing!? You think, your mouth no doubt hung wide in shock at the size of his… thing.

“I take it by your reaction that your pleased with what you see?” He teased. His smirk dripping in smugness and carelessness, as if he’s had the same reaction before. Has he had the same reaction before?

“Well, there isn’t exactly a lot for me to compare it with…” You tease back, smiling slightly at the way he shrugs and laughs in a halfhearted agreement to your words.

Yet he quickly gets over it, and a familiar look of seriousness spreads on his face which to your surprise, manages to send a wave of arousal through your body so strong you feel the need to shut your legs and hide from him. Yet when you try, strong rough hands clench almost dutifully around them and forcibly pries them open.

His eyes burn holes in you as he makes sure to take his time admiring you, and the way he can visibly see your juices and your cum dripping out of you. It almost makes him loose it and go insane there and then.

“P-please Abraham.” You beg, flushing red from the shame of it all, and the way he brings you so out of character, it’s almost amusing. You never would have thought back when you were thirteen that you’d be married to Abraham and laying in his bed, eagerly awaiting for him to fuck you. “Please…”

You’re obviously a bit hesitant on saying the exact words, but there aren’t exactly any nicer ways of begging him to have sex with you. Though it seems to your relief that Abraham is all too delighted in helping you through your worries.

“Say it…” He murmurs, his lips practically scorching as he leans down and kisses random patches of your skin. “Say how much you want me… I won’t fuck you until you say you want me too. So say it little one, and I might spare you some undeserving mercy.”

You gasp, and you can’t deny the way your breath hitches in your throat, and the way your fingers itch to bury themselves in Abrahams hair. The same way your lower half seems to ache in need for your husband. The man you can’t help but seem to have found a deep sort of affection for.

“Please Abraham…” You murmur, unable to stop the words from spilling from your lips. “Please… fuck me.”

Soon as you utter those words, it’s as if Abraham becomes a man possessed. His lips turn harsh as they suck deep marks once more into your skin, and his fingers turn equally brutal when they dig tightly to hold you in place as he grabs his cock with one hand and cautiously moves it closer to your entrance. Which by now, you’d be surprised if he didn’t find you dripping with physical arousal.

His eyes stare into your own as he pauses himself, and they make you feel small as he practically towers over you like a predator to a defenceless prey. Yet somehow, there is still that rare softness within him that you find yourself loving, as his eyes manage to ask you a thousand questions.

Did you still want this? With a nod and a small reassuring smile, you manage to convey your answer of yes to him. “This’ll hurt. I’m sorry.” Is all he says before with a deep grunt, he slowly pushes his erection deep inside you, while you yourself hiss at the stinging pain that begins to harshly throb within you.

"Feels so good," He grunts, making sure he stops to let you adjust to his size as he rubs his hands up and down your sides as a sort of comfort. A thing you’ll realise is almost an exact mirror to what you did to comfort him earlier that night. "You feel amazing darling… you're doing so fucking well little one, that's it..." With every presumable inch he pushes deeper, he murmurs new words against your ears that make you feel as if you were floating above the heavens as pleasure envelopes you whole. That pain you were feeling earlier practically nothing compared to what you were feeling now.

You can't even find it within you the words you want to say to say to him at that moment. The only thing you find yourself able to do is moan and whine and plead wordlessly for more, as the familiar delicious feeling of pleasure bubbles slowly in your belly again.

"Please Abraham!" You manage to say, your eyes clenched shut as your legs wrap around his waist whilst his hips try so hard not to begin thrusting in you as fast as they can. "Please go faster!"

He groans a deep feral noise, and his hips begin to slowly thrust against yours. Slowly building up a pressure that begins to brew in your stomach the longer Abraham moves in you.

“So good!” You whine, addicting to the feeling he provides you as his own noises of pleasure do nothing but fuel your inner fire. “Please husband please faster!” You feel so uncharacteristically greedy begging for more, and yet Abraham seems all too happy to provide with whatever it is you ask for, little or small, as his hands turn harsh as they grip roughly at your hips, and he thrusts his cock into you so hard you can practically feel him in your stomach. It’s so much, and yet it’s so little compared to how much you know you could actually feel. For once those darn books helping.

“So good for me…” Abraham groans, his eyes screwed shut as he indulges himself in your warmth that consumes him. If he could, he’d live in this moment with you. The feeling of him just merging with you being the best thing he’s ever felt in his entire miserable fucking life. “Best little wife of mine I could ever fucking ask for. Maybe I should give you a baby… get you pregnant so I can see you round and full all because of me… would you like that little one?”

You let out a gasp, and can’t help yourself from clenching around Abraham tightly as the imagery slips through your head. The idea of months passing and your stomach being swollen and round with his child, driving you somehow past the point of known insanity. It makes your head spin and your thoughts loud with want.

“Yes Abraham I want it! Please do that please please please!” You whine, scream even, while your eyes screw shut once again like earlier, imagining the scene while he continues fucking you with a new found passion as the imagery also passes through his head as-well. It seems the both of you are all too eager for what the future could hold for the two of you.

Your nails scrape along the bare canvas of your husbands back, and you can feel his sharp intake of breath against your ear as he groans deeply and loudly at the feeling. His thick thighs smacking against your own with an audible sound as he thrusts deeper and deeper into you. You can even feel the slightly cold chain that hangs around his neck scrape delicately against your skin. Everything he does for you, purposefully or not, driving you absolutely mad, if you weren’t somehow already.

Your eyes feel as if they roll into the back of your head with how good Abraham makes you feel, and you swear your voice somehow manages to get louder as you feel the knot in your stomach tightening again like earlier, and your toes curling at the end of the bed. “I-Im so close Abe!” You let out, the nickname sounding so strange on your tongue yet also so right.

His face becomes somehow more furrowed than it already was as he hears your sighs, and his face becomes focused as he thinks of only making your words a reality.

“Gonna have you cum on my cock,” He groans, gasps of pleasure leaving your lips as he somehow manages to thrust his hips against you faster, practically pounding into you now. “Gonna fuck my cum deep inside of you, and leave you absolutely full and dripping of me. Would you like that little wife of mine?”

You can’t handle it as your face turns a whole new colour at the shame of it all, but still with a sick grin making its way on your face you find you like the shame of it all, and the way it feels as your husband pleasures you. The only thing you can really say at that moment, is that it’s absolutely fucking addictive, no doubt about it. “Yes yes yes husband I want your cum deep inside me! Please fuck me please fuck me harder I want it all!”

Your face burns, yet it’s nothing compared to the feeling of your whole body shutting down as your walls clench hard around Abrahams cock, while for the second time that night, you orgasm from your husbands efforts alone. And by the way Abraham himself groans loud and proud in your ear and thrusts himself as deep as he can inside of you, you can guess you’ve made him cum too.

Whilst the two of you are slowly regaining your breaths and allowing your hearts to slow, you can’t help but let a distinctive feeling of pride come over you as you realise you’ve managed to make a man cum.

In the most non-strange way possible, you can’t help but think how your mother would be proud of you right now.

“Are you alright?” You hear Abraham murmur in your ear, and when you turn your head to look at him, your mouth curves into an involuntary way when you see he’s already looking at you with such soft eyes, and an equally soft smile on his own lips. Fuck, he look so fucking pretty in your arms…

“Yeah…” You murmur back, a smile you don’t even realise you’re making clear as day on your face as you bask in your happiness. “Perfect…” You close your eyes, and all seems right as you listen to your husband’s breathing, and feel his warmth slowly consuming you. Absolutely everything in that moment feeling more perfect than perfect. Better than better. Greater than great.

“I love you…” You whisper, not even aware if he heard it or not as you find yourself falling deeply asleep in his arms that somehow had moved you to lay on his chest while he laid on his back. But if you had managed to stay awake, even for just a minute, you’d have seen the way Abrahams eyes watered with a single happy tear than ran down his cheek, and heard his own small murmur back.

“I love you too little one… so fucking much.”

#abraham fan fic #abraham x you #abraham fan fiction #abraham fanfic #abraham fanfiction #abraham smut #abraham imagine #abraham x reader #abraham #abraham grantchester #grantchester smut #grantchester itv #grantchester #ewan mitchell imagine #ewanverse #ewan nation #ewan mitchell x reader #ewan mitchell #my works

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monawriteslol · 2 years ago

Text

𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦 𝘪'𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 - g.listing x reader

Summary: You and Georg have been "you and georg" for a while now - definitely more than friends but still less than a couple. Your arrangement seemed to be working fine until Georg spots a mystery bouquet of flowers at your place and his behavior starts to shift in unexpected ways.

warnings : Friends with benefits i guess. Light Angst. Cunnilingus. Vaginal Fingering. Spanking. Cum Play. Protected sex. Feelings realization. Female bodied reader

a/n: this was supposed to be a very short and very small oneshot but turned into a whole ass fic 😭😭 i love feeding my fellow georg fangirlies

5.2k words

“If you’re not ready in 15 minutes, I’m going without you,” Georg declares.

“Cool but it’s my friends we’re having dinner with, so that might be controversial,” you point out, nudging his elbows off your vanity so you can open the drawer in front of where he’s sitting.

“Oh, they like me better than you, it won’t be a problem,” he teases, handing you the beauty blender you were looking for.

You snatch it from his hand. “Hey, you literally weren’t even invited, you just asked if I was busy and said ‘oh that could be fun’ when I told you what I had planned.”

“I feel like my presence was assumed when they asked you,” he shrugs.

You toss the sponge at him and he laughs as you shoo him out of the room so you can finish putting yourself together.

You and Georg have been together for a few months, although neither of you have ever tried to discuss what “together” actually means. Your relationship seemed to be an endless string of implications. When you met, it was implied you liked each other. When you made out at a party a few weeks later, it was implied it was as friends. When you started sleeping together, it was implied it was casual. In your mind, you were something more than “friends with benefits” but still something less than a full-on relationship.

He puts a record on and has just crossed into the kitchen to help himself to a bottled water from your fridge when he notices a vase of flowers on the counter that he definitely didn’t send you.

“Fancy flowers,” he comments. “Who sent them?” He asks, despite immediately checking the card and seeing the message alongside what seems to be a masculine name:

“Thanks for last weekend, let’s do it again sometime ;)”

You’re rooting around in your closet, trying to find the top you had planned on wearing while your mind is focused on your mental checklist of everything you still have left to do before you leave; it takes a good 15 seconds for it to register that Georg has even said anything and another 10 before you distractedly call out “a friend” in response.

Georg sits on your couch and while his hands are turning the pages of some random magazine he found on your coffee table, his eyes are fixed on the bouquet he can still see sitting on the kitchen counter. You’ve never discussed exclusivity, he would have no right to be jealous. But he can’t deny the panic that ran through his body when he saw that card and he can’t keep his mind from racing now.

He thinks he’d almost feel better if he’d found evidence you were fucking someone else; he hates the thought of someone else touching you but he’s also confident that they couldn’t possibly make you feel the way he does in bed. He’s not worried about the sex. But flowers? That implies romance, implies thoughtfulness and intimacy, which are things he wouldn’t blame you for seeking elsewhere. He knows he hasn’t been offering that to you in the ways he could, in the ways you probably deserve.

He tortures himself with these thoughts a bit longer and then props himself in the doorway of your bedroom to check on your progress.

“Oh you’re still here? You were so quiet out there I figured you made good on your threat and you were already at the restaurant ordering without me,” you tease, pulling on your boots.

Georg gives a half-hearted chuckle in response. “You look nice,” he compliments you quietly.

You flash him a pleasant but puzzled smile; something’s off with him, you don’t think he’s ever said you look “nice” as long as you’ve known him and he never passes up a chance to banter with you.

He makes small talk but you notice the way his fingers are fiddling with the label of his water bottle and how his eyes hesitate to look for yours. By the time you’re ready, he’s nonchalantly mentioned the flowers three times and asked you to a party next weekend, when he usually never plans that far in advance.

You pause gathering your things as you realize what’s happening. He’s fucking jealous, you amusedly think to yourself. Part of you wants to tease him about it but there’s an underlying sense of nervousness to it that’s almost sweet. How could something as innocuous as a vase of flowers shake this man’s seemingly endless confidence?

“I wasn’t trying to be vague before,” you tell him. “I helped someone move last weekend; only a couple people showed up to help, it was pretty intense. That’s what the flowers are for.”

“Let’s do it again sometime, winky face?” He raises his eyebrows, casually drinking from his water bottle to show how unbothered he is.

You make a face. “I should’ve figured you’d read the card,” you tease. “I joked that the move was so brutal I’d sooner buy him the apartment than help again when the lease is up.” To punctuate your story, you walk over, peck him on the lips and affectionately straighten his shirt collar. “I don’t know what you’re thinking but I can tell you you’re probably overthinking it.”

Georg tightens his jaw and runs his tongue over his lips as he listens to you. “Didn’t even know you liked flowers,” he shrugs as you smile softly at him.

When he doesn’t immediately follow you out of the bedroom, you know his wheels must still be turning. You get your keys out of the dish and text your friends that you’re leaving now. He finally appears and just as you’re about to tell him you really need to get going, he grabs you and gives you the most over the top, absurdly intense kiss of your life. One hand twisted in your hair, one hand pressing you against him, tongue claiming your mouth as his. He’s clearly trying to prove a point - what and to who, you’re not quite sure - but he certainly proves it.

He pulls away, fire in his eyes and casually says, “You lock up, I’ll get the car started?” as if nothing happened.

You stand there, stunned for a moment, quickly attempt to repair your smudged lipstick and lock the door to meet him outside.

The car ride is mostly silent, save for the radio. Georg plants his hand on your thigh the second you get in the car and it doesn’t budge the entire time. When you grab drinks with your friends at the bar, his hand never leaves your back. During dinner, his arm snakes around your waist the second you slide in the booth next to him. To the outsider this would seem possessive and you’re guessing it partly is but you think you’re pretty good at reading Georg at this point and to you, it feels more complex than that.

He’s still his engaging and charming self, chatting endlessly with everyone about everything but you can tell he’s in his head and you’re not entirely sure why. You recall how unnerved he seemed back at your apartment. You think about the number of times he’s leaned in to whisper a joke or comment in your ear tonight. You feel the gentle way his fingers brush over your hip while you wait for the check and you start connecting the dots.

It may have started with jealousy but this goes deeper than some basic macho territorial bullshit. You’re fascinated as you consider this development. He never seemed to feel angry or betrayed at the thought of someone else holding your attention; he just seemed troubled. Sad. And now it feels like he’s constantly reassuring himself of your presence, like as long as he keeps touching you, keeps engaging you, you’re undeniably there with him.

Your head swims as you consider the implications of this. You never doubted you both cared for each other but is it more serious than that to him? To you? You focus on him talking with your friends and you don’t realize you’re staring until you feel his eyes on you. He looks at you with amused expectancy; you just shake your head and smile fondly.

Your friends say their goodbyes and you start down the street back to the car park. Georg reaches for your hand and it kind of breaks your heart so when you stop to wait for the crosswalk, you place his arm around you and snuggle into him. He looks at you quizzically, as if he’s surprised by your affection. He truly has no idea how transparent he is sometimes, you think to yourself as you mumble something about being cold.

As you make your way down the block, he starts chattering away about the night’s events and with each comment you burrow further into his embrace, appreciating the cool night air and the sound of his voice.

By time you’ve reached the parking structure, you’ve got your arms wrapped around him, inside his jacket. He sways with you as you wait for the elevator, “Am I dropping you back home?”

Your answer comes out muffled as you’ve decided to take this opportunity to bury your face in his chest. “Your place.”

He kisses the top of your head and clarifies, “Thought you had work tomorrow?”

As the elevator doors open, you say, “But your place is closer now” with a glimmer in your eye and you pull him, first into the elevator and then into you. You give him a kiss reminiscent of his over the top, absurdly intense one from earlier but yours has no underlying point to prove. You’ve decided you need him, only him and you want to be sure he knows that.

The car ride is once again silent but this time there is a different tension in the air. His hand finds its way onto your thigh again, though this time it’s definitely a few inches higher. You can’t help but study him, as breathtaking as ever, lit only by the glow of evening traffic. You’re now almost as lost in your thoughts as you know he was earlier. He was so perturbed by those goddamn flowers, why? If you had found a gift from someone you didn’t know at his place, would you be feeling the same way? You’re pretty sure you would.

He catches your gaze at a stop light or two but he doesn’t say anything, just gives your thigh a reassuring squeeze and turns back to the road. As soon as he shuts the engine off, you’re practically lunging across the car to get your lips back on his again. He indulges you for a minute and then breezily laughs, “let’s get you inside then” as he pries you off of him.

Once inside, it’s a dizzying clash of teeth, tongues, lips and limbs as you stumble up the stairs into the bedroom. You’re not sure exactly when it happened but suddenly he’s in his underwear and has you naked and spread in front of him.

He runs his fingers through your folds as he looks at you with a predatory glint in his eyes, asking, “Wet already, huh? This all for me?”

That’s apparently the extent of his teasing mood as he dives right in and starts eating you out before you even think to answer. You gasp and immediately tangle your fingers in his hair as he ruthlessly attacks your clit, first swirling it with the tip of his tongue and then sucking it in between his lips. The way he alternates broad strokes of his wide tongue with deliberate rapid fire flicks has you whimpering faster than you thought possible.

“Been wanting to taste you all evening, beautiful, thought we’d never get away,” he murmurs as he teasingly presses light kisses into your thighs.

“Georg…” you start, still attempting to catch your breath. “What is going on with you tonight…”

He chuckles and replies, “Says the woman who practically jumped me in the parking lot after dinner?” He pushes himself up your body to kiss you deeply, both of you groaning as you taste yourself on his tongue.

He pulls away just enough to continue, “Says the woman who could barely wait for me to put the car in park before she pounced again?” He kisses you even harder, distracting you enough that you don’t notice his hands have begun to wander until you feel two fingers slowly dragging against your pussy.

You break the kiss with a moan and Georg seamlessly moves his mouth to your neck, giving several teasing bites and nips before he raises his head to look directly at you and say, “Says the woman who I suspect has been dripping for me since the kiss I gave her before we left for dinner?”

He pushes his fingers into you with ease and expertly starts working them. “Maybe even before? Has my girl been wanting me this badly all night?”

You feel your skin flush as you hear the words “my girl” come out of his mouth; this is new. That’s as far as your thought process gets because then he’s curling his fingers and all you can focus on is the way your walls are beginning to twitch and tighten around them, “Georg… please…” is the best response you can manage.

His hand that’s not buried inside you traces down your throat and over your breasts. “Please what, baby? Think you know you’re gonna have to do better than that,” he teases.

“… Want to cum… please…” you breathlessly pant out, rocking your hips against his fingers which have slowed to an agonizingly slow pace, keeping you just on the edge of orgasm.

“Oh don’t worry, pretty girl, you’ll cum alright,” he teases with his bottom lip fixed in a mock pout. “Gotta make it up to you, I obviously should’ve filled you the second I walked through your door tonight,” he speeds his fingers back up and adds his thumb into the mix, rubbing it against your clit, causing your legs to shake.

You grip his arm that’s working you over, digging your nails into his bicep as your entire body tenses and you pulse around his fingers. “That’s my girl, that was a good one, wasn’t it?” he coos as he pumps his fingers into you a few more times for good measure.

You can only breathe heavily in response; your mind and body are both reeling. There it is again: my girl. That kiss by your door, his hands on you all evening, now my girl. You’re not sure if it’s intentional or if his subconscious is giving him away, but he’s claiming you. You’re much more comfortable with that idea than you thought you’d be.

The second it seems like you’ve started to catch your breath,Georg withdraws his fingers from your body and sucks them clean, exaggeratedly groaning his approval. You reach out for him, hoping for a kiss but before you even realize what’s happening, he’s back between your legs lapping away at your center again. “Georg, what the fuck,” you cry out, legs involuntarily closing around him.

Unfazed, he easily spreads your legs back how he wants them and looks up at you, face obscenely wet and glistening from his task. “You tasted so good on my fingers, I wanted more straight from the source,” he shrugs and immediately returns to his mission.

You involuntarily let out a tiny moan at his remark before tugging on his hair to get his attention. “Too much” is all you manage to get out before he licks at your clit in just the right way to make you jolt and let out a guttural groan.

He pulls back and snickers against your thigh. “That’s what I thought, do I know my girl or do I know my girl? Know when you’re ready for another one before you even do, know how to leave you speechless with just a couple flicks of my tongue,” he sneers, rapidly fluttering over your clit in demonstration. “Know this pussy even better than you do, bet you’ve never had anyone else who can say that, have you?”

You grab onto his shoulder and moan as soon as you hear that magic phrase, my girl, again. Georg’s dirty talk has always been a huge turn on for you but tonight the language is as telling as it is arousing: you are his. You decide that you like it, you want that and you like that he wants that.

You sigh deeply, disappointed but not surprised, when he pulls away just as you feel your climax begin to build. He kisses up your stomach until he reaches your tits, spreading sloppy kisses over one while he squeezes the other, rolling over the nipple with his thumb. You’re not quite sure why tenderness is your instinctual response but you go with it, softly running one hand through his hair and stroking his face with the other.

He looks up at you and his eyes are as breathtaking as always, glowing with both a familiar fire and also a softness you’ve only seen on occasion. You can’t help but smile as you tell him, “You’re unbelievable.”

“Is that a complaint or a compliment?” He asks with a smirk as he turns his attention to your other breast, repeating his actions.

“Not sure… both maybe…” you reply, in a dreamy haze of fondness, amusement and desire.

“I’ll take it,” he mutters against your skin. Satisfied with his work on your chest, you see him start to move back down between your legs.

“Geo… no, need more,” you object, attempting to pull him back up to you.

“That’s what I’m tryna to give you here, baby,” he chuckles, allowing you to pull him up to your lips.

You frantically kiss him and grabble between your bodies until your hand finds his erection still confined in his boxers and you give it a squeeze. “God, Georg, honestly I just want your cock more than anything right now,” you hate how pitiful you sound but you also hope it’s enough that he’ll give you what you want.

Instead he looks you directly in the eye, grins and taunts, “But when don’t you want my cock more than anything?”

He impishly pecks your nose and confidently states, “First you cum on my tongue. Then you can cum on my cock.” And with that, he’s suddenly peppering quick kisses all the way back down your body, musing almost to himself, “No one else can make you feel this way, can they? Know how to get you off like this? Gets you this needy?”

He dives back in with a renewed sense of purpose and has you cumming within moments; you swear at a certain point you can feel him grin against your sensitive core, clearly reveling in the nonsensical murmurs you don’t even realize you’re letting out until you hear them yourself.

“Good girl, sound so pretty when you cum for me, taste even better,” he praises, pressing a final kiss to the inside of each of your thighs before he’s on his feet, finally stripping off his underwear and retrieving a condom from the bedside table.

You’re tired from his teasing but the anticipation of finally having him inside you fuels your decision to snatch the package from him and begin tugging at his cock as soon as he’s within arms reach. You roll the condom on him as he tucks your hair behind your ear and says, “Been so good tonight, baby, you decide how you want it.”

You purse your lips in amusement because while his offer appears generous, based on the tone of the evening and the charged mood you’re both in, there’s no way he doesn’t already know you’re about to choose his preferred position.

You reach up and kiss him lustfully one more time before you dramatically turn over and raise yourself up on all fours, looking over your shoulder at him with an expectant look. He raises an eyebrow at you and you playfully roll your eyes at him, “Are you going to pretend like you’re surprised or are you gonna fuck me?”

He grips your ass cheeks, kneading them in each hand, fondly clicking his tongue, “Cum twice already and still so impatient.”

You expect him to tease you; he always does and after the evening you’ve had, you assume you’re in for another tortuous display of dominance so it takes you by surprise when he’s suddenly sliding in to you. You hear his breathing become noticeably more pronounced as he buries himself and his fingers lightly trace down your spine, his actions pausing for just a beat longer than you’d like.

Without even giving it a second thought, you start eagerly moving against him. "Need me that badly you can’t even wait one second for me to catch my breath?” He taunts in a voice that’s both amused and aroused. He wraps his hand in your hair and yanks hard. “So desperate for me to wreck you, gotta fuck yourself on my cock?” He punctuates his question with a swift smack to your ass.

You attempt to scoff at his teasing but a simple, strained “fuck” leaves your lips instead as you steadily rock yourself back against him. He doesn’t seem to mind your initiative, responding to your movements with approving groans and keeping his large hands occupied by covering your ass, first with sharp slaps followed by firm yet tender rubbing to soothe your reddening skin.

You hear yourself chanting “More. Please. More.” in a rhythm matching the way you’re throwing your body back on him. He complies with your request, hand coming down on your backside multiple times in rapid succession and you cry out in satisfaction. You love the sting but you think you love the fact that you’ll be wearing his marks for days even more.

A particularly strong blow has your arms giving out, dropping your upper body down to the bed with a moan. He takes this as you handing over the reins and quickly moves his hands from your ass to your hips, grip digging into your skin as he takes over and starts pounding into you.

“Goddamn you wrap around me so good, it’s like you were made to take my cock weren’t you, beautiful?” His praise has both your mind and body humming; it’s been a long evening and although you’ve already had two orgasms, you find yourself overwhelmed by the undeniable need to cum with him inside you.

He pushes down on the small of your back to pop your ass and fuck you at a better angle but the way his fingers firmly but gently fall on your skin reminds you of how he touched you earlier in the evening. In the restaurant. On the street. In the car. Always wanting to feel you, always confirming your presence, always reassuring the both of you that your rightful place was with him.

An unexpected wave of affection washes over you and suddenly you’re needing him in a much different way. You manage to feebly say, “Geo? Babe?” as you muster the strength to raise yourself back on one arm while you fling the other behind you, blindly searching for him.

You almost never call him pet names so it immediately jumps out at him; he notices the shifted tone in your voice and halts his actions. You turn your head to meet his gaze as he pants, “You alright? What’s happening?”

Your hand finally finds his resting on your hip and you give it a squeeze, “Changed my mind. Need more of you on me.”

The confusion and concern that were clouding his features softens into something familiar yet somehow undefinable as he gingerly pulls out and leans forward to give you the softest kiss you’ve received all evening. “Well, let’s do that then.”

You spin around to face him and sit back on your knees, pulling him into another soft, slow kiss, brushing his hair off his forehead. He basks in your tender attention for a moment before he’s guiding you back down onto the bed, situating himself to fully lay on top of you, between your legs, careful not to break your kiss until you’re ready.

He slips back inside you and before he even gets the chance to ask, a breathy “Yessss” is all the confirmation he needs to know that this is what you were craving. You wrap your legs around him and run your hands across his broad back, “Just wanted to feel more,” you explain.

Your eyes are closed, relishing the feel of his weight on you and the stretch of him inside you, so you don’t notice the way he silently studies you for a moment before he lifts himself up and starts thrusting into you again.

For all the filth that’s come out of your mouths this evening, this round finds you both unusually quiet, letting your joined symphony of moans, groans, “yeahs and “fucks say everything that needs to be expressed.

You feel him reach for your hand and move it to rest above you on the pillow, interlacing his fingers with yours; you respond with a squeeze and then one up him by turning your head to nip at his skin, simply because you can. He’s left his signature up and down your body tonight, it’s only fair you get to leave a small token of your appreciation on his.

He hisses at the feel of your teeth lightly grazing his skin. “Come on, baby, play nice.”

“Since when do we do that?” You breathlessly reply and then bask in the glow of the grin you receive in response.

Still smiling, Georg shakes his head. “If you’re able to make smartass remarks like that, clearly I’m not doing my job here.”

He takes one of your legs from around his waist and lifts your thigh back towards your chest; your mouth opens to moan but nothing happens as he pulls almost entirely out and then fucks into you so much slower and deeper than before. He chuckles, “That’s more like it.”

You consider rolling your eyes at his teasing or panting out another sassy quip at him but the way he’s moving in you feels so otherworldly you honestly don’t care about anything else. You grab on to his forearm and dig your nails in.

“Feeling good, beautiful?” He reaches between you and mercilessly rubs your clit. “Who’s making you feel this good?”

The sound emanating from your throat might be his name but mainly sounds like a series of whimpers.

He rubs harder and thrusts deeper. “Didn’t hear you, speak up. Whose cock makes you feel like this?” You continue crying out nonsensically as you feel yourself on the verge of your third orgasm.

You need him close so you pull him down to you for a kiss. He sloppily licks into your mouth, panting against your lips. He’s almost as gone as you are. You bite at his bottom lip and say, with a bit more desperation than you anticipated, “Gonna cum for you, Geo.” He nods understandingly and pecks your lips once more.

His lips move to your neck as his thrusts speed up again; he’s determined now and you’re moaning in earnest. You feel that familiar burning in your core and your eyes instinctively flutter shut, savoring the fall into bliss.

“Uh-uh, eyes open, baby. Want you to look at me. Need to be sure you know whose cock it is you’re cumming on,” Georg commands.

You force yourself to focus on him as you start to unravel, your entire body on fire, tensing deliciously; your mind is screaming his name but only indecipherable whines fall from your lips. Georg is relentless as he fucks you through it, his thrusts never slow; no matter how impossibly tight your pussy squeezes around his cock, he never stops driving into you even rougher and deeper than before.

His eyes remain locked on yours, making the entire experience feel unbelievably more intimate. You swear you can feel every pent up emotion from the evening - the jealousy, the worry, the possessiveness, the passion, the… love? - in his gaze and you’ve never had a more intense orgasm, physically or emotionally.

As you come down from your high, you hear him praising you, “Yes, baby… love making you cum… you always give so much… always such a good girl for me.” His words alone would’ve earned a reaction from you but he sounds as wrecked as you feel, causing you to emit a deep and breathy moan at this realization. He’s panting so heavily you know his release won’t be far behind.

You feel like you’re mad with desire at this point; you’re beyond satisfied and you know you couldn’t possibly cum again but you still feel like you’re wanting something, you still need more of him. Feeling emboldened by watching Georg lose control and the euphoria still pulsing through your body, you find yourself digging your nails into his arms and muttering, “Want your cum, Georg.”

He lets out a grunt as his hips slam into yours. “Oh, you’re definitely about to get it,” he smirks.

You sigh partly out of exasperation and partly out of arousal for what you’re about to request. “No, Georg, I want it,” you pant. “Want you to cum on me, make me yours.”

His hips slow as he processes your words. “Fuck” is all he can manage to growl under his breath in response. He pulls out and you whimper at both the absence of him and the anticipation of what’s going to happen.

Georg peels off the condom and you can’t take your eyes off him as he wraps his long fingers around his cock and begins to stroke himself. It only takes a few tugs before he’s gasping and murmuring your name and you have to moan along with him when you feel his warm cum spurting onto your stomach and chest. He maintains a firm grip as the rhythm of his hand varies, making sure he squeezes out every last drop for you.

He hangs his head in exhaustion for a beat and then takes in the sight of you: fucked out, chest heaving, painted in his release. You catch him staring and offer him a tired yet mischievous smile; he seems to pick up on your wavelength and smirks as he runs a finger through the substance on your breasts and brings it up to your lips for you to suck off.

“Jesus, baby,” he groans, shaking his head almost as if he can’t believe his eyes. “Don’t move.” He affectionately rubs your thigh a few times before he moves off the bed and ducks into the bathroom, returning seconds later with a wet washcloth. He climbs back next to you on the bed and presses a passionate kiss to your lips before he starts gently cleaning you up; it’s quiet for a few moments and the intimacy is not lost on either of you. You reach up and brush his hair from his eyes.

“Hey,” you start, fondly. He smiles much softer than he has all night. “Hey yourself,” he giggles. You pause and feel a bit of leftover boldness coursing through you, so you comment, “You seem like you’ve got something on your mind. ” Georg bites his lip and exhales deeply, clearly considering how to answer. He looks down, avoiding your eyes, and fusses over a mark on your hip that’s sure to form into a gnarly bruise by morning.

“Sorry if I got a little crazy tonight, I know I‘m usually better at checking in with you,” he muses. You sit up and squeeze his shoulder. You feel the urge to reassure him but you can tell he’s on the verge of opening up and you don’t want to derail him.

You’re trying to find the courage to prompt him further when he surprises you by admitting, “It just really fuckin’ got to me when I thought… “ he trails off, looking away again. “I got weirded out about those flowers and I shouldn’t have. And I’m sorry.” He tosses the washcloth onto the nightstand in exasperation. You give him a faint smile. “Geo, I told you —”“I know and I believe you but I just started thinking… and then I couldn’t stop,” he confesses quietly.

He stands up and pulls on a pair of shorts before busying himself by starting to tidy the bed. You excuse yourself to the bathroom. You figure he could use some time to process whatever it is he’s still trying to work out so you wash your face, brush your teeth and slip on a t-shirt of his you find discarded on the counter. You venture back into the bedroom and find him tossing the pillows back onto the bed after having changed the sheets. He still looks lost inside his thoughts and you yearn to ease his mind. You walk over and hug him from behind, burying your face into his back; he gives your arms an affectionate squeeze.

“I know we don’t really talk about this kind of thing but I feel like you should know I haven’t seen anybody else since we started talking,” you offer, your confession muffled with your face still pressed against his skin. “It hasn’t even been a conscious thing, I just… haven’t been interested, I guess.” Georg pulls you to his side and kisses the top of your head. “Thank you for telling me that,” he murmurs, rubbing your back.

You quickly come around and kneel on the bed in front of him so that you’re at his eye level and you wrap your arms around his neck. “And I liked everything that happened tonight; you know I would have told you otherwise,” you assert. He nods in acknowledgement so you continue, “I like hearing you tell me I’m your girl, I like when you make me feel like I’m yours… ”

You feel tempted to look away, to fidget with the necklace he’s wearing but you resist.

You look straight into his eyes, full of warmth and attentiveness, and state, “You know, I could be yours, if that’s something you decide you want.”

Georg only lets your words hang in the air for a split second before he wraps his arms around you tightly and kisses you slowly; it’s intense and passionate but not in the same over the top, cocky way that he kissed you back at your apartment.

This kiss is also trying to prove something but it’s a message meant only for you and he’s taking his time to make his point clear.

When your mouths finally separate, you take a deep breath and steady yourself on his arms. You open your eyes at him and grin.

“Was that your way of asking?”

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