#and so far from the worst after close experience for people | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hannieehaee · 1 month ago

Text

NEED TO KNOW

18+ / mdi

summary: with jungkook's lifelong crush also came an aversion to dating anyone who wasn't you. but what would happen when the poor lovesick boy came crying into your arms after finally giving a chance to what turned to be a disastrous date?

content: virgin!jungkook, f2l!jungkook, loser!jk, sub!jk, college au, jk is insanely socially awkward and shy, kook is touch starved, afab reader, smut, dry humping, body worship, reader's lowkey possessive over jk (and vice versa tbh), oral (f and m receiving), handjob, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 10k

a/n: loser virgin koo but light on the loser and heavy on the virgin

masterlist | patreon

Jungkook often found himself feeling like his life was one of those very shitty romcoms.

Except he had never really felt like the heartthrob, or even like he was the one getting swept off his feet.

No, his experience was more closely aligned with the loser virgin who was tossed aside so the star-crossed lovers could find their way to each other. This was just how it had always been.

Jungkook had watched most of his friends find love with a person he could easily consider their soulmate. He was a romantic at heart, after all. These things were not difficult for him to spot.

He often wondered when his turn would come, except it just never did.

Being one for romance was seemingly not for the weak, as Jungkook found himself passing yet another year as a lovesick fool hoping to find that perfect someone to finally look his way.

Scratch that. Many people looked his way. Even as a self-proclaimed loser, Jungkook received plenty of attention from boys and girls alike. Looks were often thrown his way, but they were never the looks he wanted to receive.

Sure, he could easily reciprocate the appreciation he received for his looks. He could smile back, maybe even ask for their number and then see where it all led afterwards.

Except that Jungkook needed the romance. He needed to be swept off his feet (or maybe the reverse, it depended on his mood). Jungkook needed a soulmate.

It all just became eternally more complicated when Jungkook insisted on having that person be you.

That and the fact that Jungkook was slightly, how to put it, socially inept. He was shy, anxious, unable to read social cues, and basically just an overall mess. But the worst of all was his undying crush on you, this he knew.

It was a tale as old as time. Falling for your best friend, pining after them for years, hoping one day they'd turn around and realize you'd been here all along. And now on year nine of knowing you, it still hadn't happened. Jungkook remained a sad, lonely virgin awaiting for you to grant his romcom wish and make him into the love interest.

It didn't really help how painfully socially awkward Jungkook was. Truly, he was surprised you'd stuck by his side for this long despite that. There was no way Jungkook would ever want to risk ruining your current relationship in favor of something he knew would never work out. You did not like him back, these past nine years made him very well aware of that.

And so, as a result, his friends had the grand idea of setting him up.

Not once, not twice, but countless times.

However, Jungkook being Jungkook, never agreed to it. Not once had his friends been able to reel him out of his dorm long enough to entrap him into a date.

Jungkook simply saw no point in it. Blind dates were the complete antithesis of Jungkook's beliefs about romance. He needed a connection before even considering entering a romantic relationship. The thought of going on a date with someone he'd never met before unnerved him to no end.

Plus, he was convinced no one would ever actually like him past his looks. There had been far too many instances of him being on the receiving end of insults to his personality or not-so-subtle stink eyes thrown his way. To have that happen to him whilst on a blind date was just a huge no.

Jungkook found himself stuck in an endless limbo. A loveless, endless limbo as he pined after the one person he could never have.

"You're going. No isn't an option here," deadpanned Namjoon, hitting Jungkook lightly to the back of his head with a rolled up magazine — almost as if he were a puppy receiving a scolding.

Well, that's pretty much how Jungkook had been feeling these days.

For the past week or so, Jungkook had been down in the dumps (even more than usual), making his unrequited crush everyone else's problem through his constant sighs and unsolvable complaints. You truly were the only person in Jungkook's life who didn't fall victim to his lovesickness — for obvious reasons.

There was a very reasonable cause for Jungkook's souring mood, though.

You were seeing someone.

Maybe.

At least that's the impression Jimin had given Jungkook when he mentioned some guy you'd been texting lately.

Jungkook had no further evidence, but the mere thought was enough for his heart to begin cracking.

He always knew this was a one sided love, but the confirmation was entirely too hurtful for Jungkook to take. Apart from that, the thought of you not telling him also added to the hurt.

This only caused Jungkook's lovesickness to worsen, making him become a leech at his other friends' sides as he allowed himself to rot. Maybe it sounded dramatic, but Jungkook felt the situation was drastic enough to justify his reaction.

It was unfortunate that Jungkook's friends cared so much for him. Had they simply allowed him to rot in his own self-inflicted misery, he wouldn't have found himself at the receiving end of Kim Namjoon's wrath as he scolded at him to go on the date he'd set up for him with his lab partner.

To be fair, his friends had offered him many options. They'd tried to get Jungkook out of his shell and wingman him in order to find a girl for himself. They'd attempted to get him to confess to you. Hell, they even putting Jungkook on dating apps where he had full control of who, when, and how he met a partner. But Jungkook rejected every option.

This was not good enough for Kim Namjoon.

After having dealt with a heartsick Jungkook for far too long, he gave him an ultimatum. Either he confessed to you, or he'd have to at least attempt a date with a nice girl of Joon's choosing.

So, it seemed like Jungkook was going on a date.

"Sora's going to hate me. I make a terrible date. Last time I went on a date, I panicked when my date tried to kiss me and closed the door on her face. I'm pretty sure I slammed it her nose," Jungkook whined as he rubbed at the back of his head.

"Jungkook, believe it or not, girls do like you. Sora asked me to set you guys up. C'mon, just try it out. This could be that romcom romance you're always talking about."

"Doubt it," he murmured sadly, "But fine. I guess I have nothing to lose."

Namjoon clapped his hands gladly, proceeding to pat Jungkook's back in encouragement, "Good! It'll go great, Jungkook, don't worry."

"I- I don't even know what to wear or what to say, I-" Jungkook found himself begin to panic, "What if-"

"Jungkook," Joon interrupted, "You're overthinking this. Sora's a nice girl. She's been asking me about you since you stopped by my bio class that one time. She's probably excited about this, there's nothing for you to worry about," he reassured.

Still, Jungkook remained overly anxious about it. Also, how was he supposed to explain this to you? He didn't want you to think that he, that he was interested in pursuing other girls. It was a dumb thought to have, but he couldn't help it. What if the feelings were somehow, by some act of god, reciprocated and Jungkook was ruining it by going on a date with someone else? It wasn't like he could possibly hide this from you. You were best friends, for god's sakes!

But one more look to Joon's annoyed expression told Jungkook that he could under no circumstance call this off.

And so he was going on a date.

When the day of the date arrived, Jungkook was even more nervous than he had imagined.

He had no one to ask for advice, no one to confide in so that his nerves didn't go overboard and drove him to insanity.

Okay, he could've easily asked one of his closest friends like maybe Jimin? Or perhaps Taehyung? Maybe even Mingyu. They were all very successful with dating, whether that be casually or long-term. Jungkook was really the only outlier in his friend group to fail miserably at the dating aspect of life.

And every other social aspect, really.

Unfortunately, there was only one person that could provide Jungkook with the comfort and reassurance he needed right now. And that was you.

You, however, were the one person Jungkook could simply never tell about this.

Regardless of the endless times he'd convinced himself that you did not care for him in any way other than platonic, the fear of somehow disappointing you by going on a date with someone else completely prevented him from even considering telling you. It was stupid and delusional, but, well, so was Jungkook.

The very (extremely) small thought that maybe you liked him back continued to bug him even as he got dressed for his date. He'd subconsciously dressed in an outfit he knew you liked on him and had even done his hair the way that usually had you running your fingers through it. In his head, there was a battle between pleasing you despite your absence from this date, and feeling immense guilt over it.

Somehow, Jungkook managed to push those thoughts aside, choosing to try and calm himself down as he waited for the time to arrive.

He attempted to implant happy thoughts into his mind. The possibility of this date going well was one among them. What if Sora was a perfect match for him? What if this was what he should've done years ago instead of closing himself off to relationships due to his hopeless crush? Who knows, maybe he'd fall in love and become a former virgin within a few months.

But then life decided to catch him off guard again with a sudden knock on his door.

He knew in his heart who it could be, but he senselessly hoped it was anyone but you, knowing he'd panic with your sudden presence.

Walking over to check the peephole, he was met with a sight he usually enjoyed seeing — you, smiling in the direction of the peephole, knowing he was watching on the other side of the door.

Hesitating a bit, he opened the door, attempting to decrease the acceleration of his heart. Was there any way he could lie to you about his plans and get you out of here within less than ten minutes? According to his phone, it was 6:32, which meant he needed to get his ass out of his apartment in the next fifteen minutes if he wanted to make it on time for the reservation Sora had made for 7.

This might've been the downside to telling you you could come over unannounced at any time. Usually, Jungkook was either at home or with you, so this arrangement had not caused any issues until now.

Upon opening the door, he was immediately caught in a simple, yet sweet hug — you were a huge hugger, a blessing and a curse to poor, touch-starved Jungkook.

You entered the apartment as soon as you pulled away, making your way inside as if you owned the place (which, you kinda did, considering how often you were here). It took you a few seconds to register Jungkook's dressed-up appearance and inevitably comment on it, interrupting your usual greeting to him.

"Oh? You're all dressed up. I love that shirt on you," you fixed at his collar as you said so, "Do you have plans today? You look really handsome."

Well, Jungkook's unofficial goal of impressing you had been accomplished. Too bad you weren't the girl he was going on a date with tonight.

After your question, you'd moved further into Kook's apartment, making your way to his couch with ease only a true best friend would have. You even grabbed at the chips Kook had left on the coffee table earlier, disregarding your surroundings due to the level of comfort you felt at his place.

"Oh, uh, I ... Joon actually set me up on a date tonight," he decided to go with the truth. Jungkook knew that he'd feel better with your encouragement at the end of the day. Maybe that was what he needed in order to calm his nerves. That, and some sort of official confirmation that he had no chance with you. Perhaps that'd be enough to get him to snap out of his delusions.

He felt bad about it as soon as your face dropped. Or maybe he imagined it. It went back to normal immediately after.

"Oh," you paused, "That's- wow. Congrats, Kook. Who's the lucky girl?", you asked as if it meant nothing. As if him going on a date wasn't a life changing event.

Which maybe it wasn't for you. Kook knew you didn't like him like that, but the stupid hope prevailed for some reason. He was driving himself insane with the idiocy behind the thought, but his hopeful nature couldn't help itself.

"Uh, you know, just some girl from Joon's class. Her name's Sora. We're, uh, going to some fancy restaurant tonight."

"Oh, fuck, did I interrupt you? Sorry, Kook. You should've told me," another flash of something made its way to your expression, but it left as fast as it came as you stood from your seat and walked back to him.

"You, uh, you look amazing, Kook. She's going to fall in love with you for sure," you smiled sweetly at him, fixing his collar again in a manner that had him screaming internally.

He didn't want anyone but you falling in love with him, but it's not like he could actually express that to you without putting your friendship at risk. So, he gave you a tight lipped smile and accepted your compliment with a scrunch of his nose.

"Is it time for you to leave? I'll leave you alone. Wouldn't want to interrupt you in case the date goes well," you went to joke, chuckling lightheartedly as you usually did, but Jungkook swore there was something off in your tone. Call it wishful thinking.

"You don't have to leave," he mumbled.

"It's okay, Kookie. Good luck with your date," you went to pick up your bag that you'd put down when you came in before approaching him by the door once more, "Here. For good luck," and a soft kiss was pressed against his cheek.

He stood there dumbly after that. Maybe he mumbled a thank you or a see you later, he wasn't too sure. He was far too distracted by your proximity and touch and then suddenly he was alone again.

Kisses on the cheek weren't exactly a tendency for you. They practically never happened. At least not with Jungkook's aversion to intimate touch. Hugs were usually as far as you two went due to his shy demeanor in that area. Perhaps you were somehow asserting your place in his life? But it was most likely not from a place of possessiveness as Jungkook's dumb mind wished for it to be. You were just genuinely the sweetest girl he'd ever met, and so you kissed him with the best of intentions. Jungkook would just have to keep it in the back of his mind for his date.

... Which was starting quite soon, he realized as he finally rushed to leave.

With one last resigned sigh, he looked at himself in the mirror and finally made his way out, hoping tonight would be the first step to getting over his rom-com wish of being with you.

Jungkook's nerves did not diminish on the drive to the restaurant, much less as he walked in and was led to his reservation. It was a bit of a shock to him to find Sora already sitting there, but perhaps it was a sign that she actually liked him. Sometimes it was difficult for Jungkook to believe anyone could possibly be into him romantically. He knew people found him attractive and had been prepositioned many times in his life, but no one had ever actually shown interest any further than that. Maybe it was how socially awkward he was, or perhaps how insistent he was on chasing after you in particular.

He shook these thoughts out of his mind for the time being, opting to arrive over to his date as quick as possible.

"Hi," he said dumbly as he took a seat across from her.

"Hi, Jungkook," she smiled back.

She did not seem as nervous as Jungkook did. She seemed quite calm actually, which only made Jungkook more anxious. That and the way she'd checked him out as he sat, but he'd put that thought into the back burner for now.

"Uh, sorry if I kept you waiting," he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, not knowing what to do with his hands.

"Don't worry about it. I'd have waited longer if necessary," then she leaned over the table, as close as she could through the distance and whispered, "I've been waiting for a chance with you for a while."

Okay, that was forward. Was that good?

"Oh, uh, well, I, uh, I hope I don't disappoint you, then," he felt himself blush.

She gave him a smile that made him feel as if she was in on some joke he was unaware of, "You won't. Trust me," and that was that.

The waiter came soon after and wrote down their orders, offering them some breadsticks and beverages as they waited. It was pretty calm during that time. Maybe even too calm.

The conversation didn't exactly flow naturally between the two. It was a little static here and there, forcing Jungkook to think of ice breakers for first dates that he'd seen on some Buzzfeed article he'd read back in high school, back when he was first introduced to the idea of dating.

Sora was nice and extremely pretty, but Jungkook did not feel that spark he'd always hoped for. He should've known the moment he walked in. There were no bells playing nor did he feel dizzy at the sight of her. Jungkook knew these were unrealistic measures to find the love of his life, but they had been present when he met you and still remained prevalent in his current feelings for you. With Sora, however? It was as if he was awkwardly making conversation to his science partner after having finished a project — it was just filling the silence.

But Sora looked happy. She continued to smile at him, giggle harder than Jungkook would expect (his humor wasn't really at its peak performance tonight), and would even reach over to grace at his arm every so often. When the food came, she made eyes at him as she ate. It was a pretty sight, but her intentions confused Jungkook. Was she flirting with him?

He felt out of his league in this situation. Like there was some context he didn't have.

And then the other shoe dropped.

Sora began playing footsie with him under the table, interrupting him as he responded to some benign question she'd asked about his major. She hummed in response, tilting her head to the side and biting her lip flirtatiously at him. It unnerved Jungkook, causing him to stutter endlessly at the contact. God, he was so unaccustomed to touch; any kind of touch, really. Sure, you and him hugged from time to time, but he avoided any further touch, knowing he'd make an embarrassment out of himself if you ever did anything similar to what Sora was doing.

You'd never questioned his proclivity against intimate touch. You just respected it, keeping touch to a minimum and letting him take the reins any time you hugged or lounged on the same couch — there was the very rare cuddling, but it never went further than shoulders pressed up against each other.

It's not as if Jungkook was a germophobe or anything of that genre. He was quite fine with pats on the back, handshakes, hell, even tackling when playing sports, but it was the more intimate touches he stayed away from. He just felt entirely out of place, knowing he'd embarrass himself somehow. Thankfully, he'd never been in such a situation until now.

Jungkook didn't want to judge Sora too harshly by how forward she was being. It was nice to be wanted, especially by someone as appealing as Sora. It wasn't her fault that he was a little socially inept when it came to relationships. No, that was entirely on him.

He'd seen countless romance movies and had even watched as all his friends interacted with their significant others. Jungkook knew what was expected in a relationship, yet he just wasn't feeling it with Sora. Any time you touched him, he found himself wanting more but holding back due to how much more he wanted. In this instance, he just felt nervous as to what type of touch would come next from the girl sitting across from him.

Then came the question.

"Wanna get out of here?", she smiled after dessert, the same flirtatious grin on her glossy lips.

Jungkook physically gulped at the implication, but somehow found himself responding.

"O-okay."

Was that enthusiastic enough?

Jungkook had been a gentleman. He'd walked Sora home, held her hand, and pulled her close to him as they swung their hands back and forth. It was nice. Sora was a really nice girl when she wasn't fucking Jungkook with her eyes — was that what she'd been doing? He wasn't exactly sure.

But his question was answered pretty quickly.

Kook had insisted on walking her all the way up to her apartment. She lived off campus and it was after dark, it just seemed like the proper thing to do. Even if the date hadn't been exactly what he'd hoped (through no real fault of Sora's), he wanted to remain polite to her.

Turning to him as they stepped foot in front of her door, Sora's hand went to rub at his arm, thumb feeling at the skin of his bicep in a sensual(?) way. Her eyes deemed slightly hooded and her grin was still present.

She took two steps forward, taking his lack of movement as indication he was okay with her coming closer. Which he was, but he was still anxious about it. Would she kiss him? Should he kiss her?

Her arms wrapped at the back of his neck, the hold causing him to lean down slightly. His balance left him at the sudden proximity, making him naturally wrap his arms around her waist. He kept the touch as feather-light as possible, not wanting to cross any boundary.

That's when she kissed him.

And it wasn't just any kiss. It wasn't like the two or three kisses Jungkook had shared with other girls in the past — no mere peck or short-lived kiss. Sora was very forward with her kiss, making Jungkook yelp in surprise as he tried to follow.

He kept at it only for a few moments before attempting to pull away with shy mutters and excuses, 'wait,' 'shit, i-' and 'maybe we shouldn't' were a few of them, with the last one finally making her fully pull away.

"I-I'm sorry, I'm just not sure I want to ...", he grimaced at himself, feeling like an idiot.

Sora was a pretty girl, clearly into him and seemingly willing to put up with his weird personality. Jungkook was simply being an idiot, thinking that he could go on a date and suddenly be over his years-long crush and-

"What? What do you mean?" she interrupted his thoughts, looking rather peeved off.

"I, uh, I mean that, uh, maybe we should wait? I don't wanna rush things and-"

Just as he pulled out the first excuse he could think of, — What, Jungkook? Were you really thinking of going out with her again or would you just ghost her? — she interrupted him again.

She looked at him with clear annoyance overtaking her features, arms on her hips as she moved her weight from one foot to another. Anyone who saw her could clearly see some sort of frustration in her demeanor.

"Jungkook, what did you think this was?", her tone was incredulous, "What was the point of all this?"

"W-what do you mean?"

She scoffed.

Okay, she didn't look as happy to be there anymore.

"We to some shitty restaurant late at night, I invite you back to my place, we kiss. What did you think I was expecting from all this?" she continued.

Jungkook was pretty sure he knew the answer, but he was too mortified to actually respond.

It was sex, right? Sora had seen this as a hookup rather than a date.

God damn you, Namjoon.

"I- it's not-"

"I thought you were interested. Hell, Joon said you kept asking him about me. That you were into me," she groaned, "I should've known. Everyone knows you're a prude. I've seen you shut down other girls, I just thought maybe I'd be an exception," she continued, confusing Jungkook further.

Fuck, had Joon tried setting him up with Sora? Jungkook knew his heart must've been in the right place, but he had probably misread Sora. They were clearly not compatible.

Jungkook kind of felt like he was going to cry. He felt so embarrassed by the situation. And there was no way he could clarify the white lie Joon had told her. It'd just exasperate her more.

"Do you have nothing to say? Should I just go into my apartment now?"

Jungkook looked at his shoes in remorse, feeling as if he'd actually done something wrong.

Kissing her had been a mistake. He should've stayed as he was, waiting for the perfect girl to come around. Should've trusted his gut despite Joon's insistence.

"I'm sorry. I, I didn't mean to lead you on."

She scoffed again, "Yeah, clearly. You should just go. And tell Joon to never set me up again," and with that, she'd entered her apartment, slamming the door on Jungkook in the process.

Jungkook stood there for a minute or two as he contemplated what had just happened.

Part of him was glad it had stopped where it did, while another part felt like an idiot for not going through with it. Granted, he had not expected such a big reaction to his rejection, but he could've used this opportunity to lose his virginity, maybe force himself to move on from you.

But Jungkook knew that would've been an even more disastrous experience. He didn't want to sleep with anyone just to get it over with. He wanted love. He wanted you.

With his tail between his legs, Jungkook went back home, disappointed at his first attempt at putting himself out there. He also made a mental note to spit in Joon's soup or something.

The way back home had been a mess of emotions.

Jungkook went from embarrassed, to angry, to confused, and ended up settling on mortified. That, and pathetic. That feeling seemed to always be present in Jungkook's mind, but tonight he felt a little more pathetic than usual.

I mean, he had had, by all means, what could be considered a perfect date. He had a girl who clearly wanted to take things further, yet he panicked like an idiot and caused her to blow up at him. At that moment Jungkook couldn't really find it in him to blame Sora for her reaction. He should've realized from Sora's advancements that she'd want more from him and shouldn't've fed into it throughout the night.

He wondered what you'd think of it all.

Would you have found Sora's reaction reasonable? Would you have comforted him after such a mortifying night.

Well, it turned out Jungkook would find out sooner than expected.

Despite your denial to his offer of staying over at his place while he was gone, he still found you sitting on his couch as soon as he entered the threshold of his apartment - you did have a key, after all.

You got up as soon as you saw him come in, clearly having been expecting him. Your demeanor did not seem as casual and laid back as it had a few hours ago. On the contrary, you looked troubled.

But Jungkook was sure he looked equally as troubled, if not more. He felt shock at seeing you there despite having left earlier, but it soon left him due to bigger matters taking over his mind at the moment.

"Kook," you started, putting your weight on your knees as you knelt on the couch.

"Uhm, hi. What- what are you doing here?"

He was hesitant in making his way to his own couch. Your presence was unnerving him for some reason (well, at least a different reason than usual). He could feel something different in the air. Your demeanor wasn't your usual.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, looking down to your lap.

"I don't- I'm not really sure."

That was unlike you.

"I thought you didn't want to stay in case I, uh, I brought Sora back home."

He didn't mean it in an accusatory manner, but perhaps his disheartened demeanor made it sound as such.

"Sorry, I can leave. I- I'll leave," you went to get up, but were swiftly stopped by Jungkook when he walked over to you, closing the distance.

"Don't- Please don't go. I could use the company," he offered you a loop-sided smile, hoping it didn't give away how shitty he was feeling.

You looked up at him now with the closer proximity between you. Jungkook knew you could probably see the glassiness in his eyes due to tonight's events. He hadn't cried on his way home, per say, but he had been pretty damn close to. And you, being you, would probably be able to clock it immediately.

"Are you okay?", you finally asked.

"It was just ... a very shitty day," he chuckled despite himself.

The two of you took a seat on the couch, the tension somehow still loud.

"What happened?"

"Oh, you know. I was kind of dumb to think a girl could possibly like me like that. Joon meant well, but ... it's just not for me, I guess."

He wanted to diminish it. To keep it vague so he wouldn't have to open that can of worms. The can of worms that were his deep-seethed insecurities and his never ending crush.

Turning your body to face him, your eyebrows furrowed in worry, bottom lip sticking out a bit in a subtle pout.

"Jungkook," your voice was serious, "Tell me what happened."

"You first," he rebutted, "Tell me why you're here."

He surprised himself a bit. Usually he had no problem letting you comfort him when he was down in the dumps. But something about your demeanor needed to be addressed first. That small seed of hope in the back of his mind was twinkling at it. Could it be? Had you stayed because-

"I didn't want you to bring her back home," you said after a few moments of silence, voice almost a whisper.

Your eyes were forcefully shut and a breath left you. It was as if it had been a huge weight on your shoulders. Though you didn't seem more relaxed at letting it out. If anything, you appeared even more pent up.

And Jungkook? His body was reacting to such a statement. The implications behind it had his heart racing and his hands clamming up. It'd be a punishment beyond belief if it didn't mean what he thought he meant.

But still, he asked.

"Why?"

"Please don't make me say it."

"I need you to. Please."

Sora was completely out of his mind despite the conversation orbiting around her. All he was thinking about was the pained tone in your voice when you'd said you didn't want her back here with Jungkook.

He felt sickly at the strange satisfaction that brought. Your pain was the last thing Jungkook could ever want, but this was the kind of pain Jungkook could remedy. Only one word from you — or rather, three — and he'd take it all away. He just needed a bit more from you to not risk it all. He needed you to take the risk, however selfish that might've been.

You opened and closed your mouth a few times, but never garnered the courage to actually say something. It was rare for you to not speak your mind around Jungkook, and that knowledge only made his heart race more. Wanting to encourage you, he scoot over a bit closer, placing his hand atop your own that was lying on your lap.

A soft smile was his reward for such an action. That and the brushing of your fingers before fully grasping his hand in yours. He loved holding your hand, even if he rarely allowed himself to do so.

"Why didn't you want me to bring her back home?", he asked again.

You sighed, nodding to yourself in what seemed to be self assurance before turning your eyes to his and finally speaking.

"Because I like you. And it would've killed me if you lost your virginity to someone else," you said in one quick breath. Your confidence pretty much left you after that. "I know that makes me a hypocrite, but I- I can't help it. I like you so much it hurts. I was never going to tell you, but I had no idea how much it'd actually affect me if you ever got a girlfriend," you continued, hand squeezing his own every so often, "I thought I'd be ready to see you find someone else and take that as a sign to move on but, fuck, I felt like shit walking out of here this afternoon knowing you were going to see another girl."

By the time you'd finished your confession, your eyes were glassy. They weren't really facing Jungkook's anymore, but he could still tell. His eyes were glassy too.

His heart had stopped within first sentence. He wasn't sure how he was currently sitting up, somehow not having passed out at the initial confession. He also found himself completely mute, unable to react to what was a life changing moment for him.

"Kook?", you called his attention, hand letting go of his own and retracting into yourself, "I kinda need you to say something here," you let out an awkward chuckle, eyes wide and worried in contrast.

"I- I, fuck," he stammered, "I almost slept with Sora tonight," was what he had not planned to say whatsoever, but still somehow found leaving his lips.

"Oh."

Yes. 'Oh.'

"Wait, I didn't mean-"

But you stood up, still refusing to look at him.

"I should go. I'm sorry if I got in the way of your plans."

You tried to push past him, but he towered over you, stubborn in letting you leave but still too panicked to return your sentiment.

He felt like a complete and utter piece of shit.

"Wait, please don't go," he pleaded, hand bracketing around your wrist.

"I think I embarrassed myself enough, Jungkook."

"You didn't! Please, I don't know why I said that. It wasn't true, I- I couldn't go through with it. That's what I meant to say," that seemed to get you to stop fighting him, but your sniffled and glassy eyes remained.

"It's fine, Jungkook. You don't have to try and spare my feelings. I knew it wasn't mutual, I didn't mean anything by it, I-"

That was seemingly what broke the camel's back.

"It is mutual! I'm in love with you!", he interrupted, surprising himself even more than you.

Quiet fell for a few moments, breaths as heavy as the tension of the room.

"What?"

"That's why I could never go on dates. Why I always said no when the guys set me up. Why I shut you off any time you got a boyfriend ... Why I stopped things with Sora before they could go too far."

His admission got you to finally look at him. The look in your eyes was indescribable to Jungkook. He'd never seen it before. There was shock mixed with something else. Perhaps hope? That's more or less what he felt at the moment.

"Are you lying to me?", you asked in a sudden shift of demeanor, now a serious edge to your tone.

"What? N-no! I- I love you. I've been in love with you for years. You can ask any of the guys. It's embarrassing and time-consuming, but it's always been there. I swear it's-"

That's as far as Jungkook got. He'd never be able to recall what other embarrassing detail about his crush he was about to share, but he found himself unable to care as soon as he realized what the source of his interruption was.

This kiss was incomparable — despite having shared a heavy kiss with someone else less than an hour prior.

No, this kiss was full of emotions Jungkook would need a thesaurus to describe. He was completely out of his league (but, really, when was he not?), lips attempting to follow your hungry ones but losing the battle.

The discrepancy in experience between the two of you was entirely too visible in the kiss, but Jungkook wasn't complaining. He was getting the better end of the stick and you didn't seem to find any issue, so he just counted his blessings and continued to kiss you to his heart's desire.

Your tongue sucked at his own, making his eyes roll back. His hands, which were usually shy in touching you, were greedy in grabbing at and squeezing any part of you available to him. The usual shyness was replaced with sheer need.

Usually, he would've been embarrassed by the needy whimpers he kept leaving against your lips, but he was too into it to stop. You'd reward every whimper with a slight pull of his hair, so he saw it as a good sign and allow himself to let loose.

When he was almost out of air, you pulled away, though Jungkook's lips attempted to follow, not wanting a single second of separation from you. He was able to steal two pecks and one lick of lips before you pressed your arms against his chest to stop him.

"I'm in love with you too," you were breathless as you said it, "I just thought it was safer to tell you I liked you to, you know, preserve some of my dignity in case it wasn't mutual," you chuckled.

Jungkook's mind was somewhere in Kansas at the moment, not really paying full attention to your words. Knowing you loved him back was life-changing, but the monkey-brained part of him was itching for more of your touch at the moment.

"Where'd your mind go?", you giggled when you took note of his dazed look.

Your hands went to pull him closer once more, which he accepted immediately by locking his arms around your waist.

"What? I, uh, nothing," he mumbled, eyes not meeting your own.

God, how had he gotten horny over a simple kiss?

You caught on quickly, grinning up at him as you attempted to fish at his eyes, following his head any time he tried to turn away from your view but failing. It was comedic in contrast to how tense things had just been.

"What's wrong, Kookie?", you sing-sang, "Something on your mind?"

He gave you what he was sure was a pathetic, pleading look, "Please don't be mean to me. My brain's barely catching up to what's happening," he whined.

"I get to be mean for you. You almost slept with another girl tonight," you huffed jokingly.

With a wince, he groaned, to which you just giggled, causing him to drop his head into your shoulder.

"That's not fair."

"I think it's pretty fair. Here I was, pining over you and you're out there about to give it away to some random girl," you continued.

His response came in the form of nuzzling into your neck, encouraged by your arms pulling him closer.

"Stop," he whined, "It was so shitty. I hated it."

You pulled him away from the comfort of the crook of your neck (much to his dismay) to look at him once more. Luckily for him, your arms were still on his shoulders, allowing him to retain close proximity to you — he was unsure how he'd ever accept any distance between you from now on.

There was some worry in your eyes. Or at least that's what the furrow in your brows and the slight pout made him think.

"What happened?"

"Oh, uh, it was nothing. She just ... I guess Joon's not that good at matchmaking," he explained, not really finding it worth it to go back to that moment. Not when he had something so much better now, and weirdly enough as a result of his shitty night.

You offered him another pout, reaching up to give him a sweet kiss as an acceptance of him not wanting to give too many details.

"Mmm, wait, not yet," he mumbled when you went to pull away, this time successful in keeping your lips locked.

Despite your giggle in response, you continued kissing him, soon going back to the pace you'd had during your earlier kiss. It soon turned heavy and wet, making Jungkook's mind daze once more.

Jungkook was on a mission, refusing to let the kiss end. Putting his all into the kiss, he allowed you to take his mind away, making him all but literally melt at your touch. Matching sighs left you, the sound mixing with the squelch of your tongues licking and sucking at each other.

Eventually, Jungkook turned around — lips still connected — and let himself be pushed to sit back on the couch, with you straddling his lap as a result. The newfound warmth of your body atop his own made him dizzy with desire. It was a feeling he'd never experienced before, and it was quickly growing addictive.

A high whine was left against your lips when your hands moved onto his hair, pulling at it softly at first and increasing the intensity based on his sounds. He melted under you, knowing he'd be willing to let you do whatever you wanted to him without even having to ask.

Hands explored your body, feeling an innate need to map out every inch and pull you as close to him as possible, almost to the point of molding with one another.

Your lips explored his neck for a bit, occasionally nibbling and licking at the skin. The contrast between the warmth of your breath and the coolness of your tongue had him sighing out in pleasure.

Who would've thought having his neck kissed could feel so orgasmic?

He wasn't sure whether he was happy or frustrated when your lips found his own again. As petulant as it sounded, he wanted your touch everywhere, all at once. His skin was burning, as were his loins — and no contact further than some kissing had been done.

"Mm, Kook-" you failed at interrupting the kiss, trapped into another and another, "Shit, Kook," you tried again, but easily fell back into it, letting Jungkook lick into your mouth, "Wait, baby."

Baby?

Okay, that stopped him.

"What's wrong?", Jungkook was sure he looked completely gone. His eyes were still glued to your lips and his chest heaved with his heavy breath.

"Are you sure you want to keep going with this? I don't want to push you," you asked, breath equally erratic.

He could've laughed at the question.

There was no doubt in his mind that he needed to keep going. His body was already about to explode, and you were asking him if he wanted to stop? He felt let out a silent whine at the mere suggestion of stopping.

He kissed you again, hands gripping your hips and instinctively pulling you closer.

You took this as a hint to crumble his sanity even further by beginning to grind on him, slow yet intensely. It had him hiccuping in pleasure against your lips, sighing out and allowing you access to his open mouth.

"Please- oh, fuck, please," he pleaded for nothing in particular.

"Is this okay?," you asked uselessly.

Jungkook nodded, letting his head fall back to the back of the couch as his hips pathetically humped up along with yours. There was no direct contact, but the mere stimulation had Jungkook's eyes seeing white. It was reminiscent of all those nights he'd grow too frustrated with himself and begin humping at his pillow with you in mind. He'd always been too embarrassed to acknowledge such a deprived act, but at least he could now confirm there were no grounds for comparison.

"It's so good, fuck. Want- want more."

By then, you were humping at each other like deprived animals, gasping and crying out at the contact.

Jungkook was unsure when you'd thrown off your shirt, far too distracted by the feeling of you on top of him, but his ability to think completely left him at that moment. Your hands let go of him, instead grabbing at your breasts and playing with yourself right in front of him.

It was like a wet dream come to life, mocking him by showing him how weak and pathetic he was.

The sight had him let out an embarrassing whimper. His face reflected how pained he felt at the view, so needy and painfully horny for you.

"Y-you're so ... Fuck, please, I need- can I ... ?"

He wasn't sure what sentence he was trying to make, but the ability to feel shame had exited his mind a good while ago. To be frank, Jungkook wasn't even sure what reality he was in at the moment. The only thought occupying his mind was your body testing his resolve in a way that he knew would ruin him.

You nodded, biting your lip to prevent a smile of satisfaction as Jungkook let his head fall in between your breasts, lips immediately mapping out the are through kisses and needy flicks of the tongue. He grew immediately obsessed with the feeling of your skin under his touch. It was soft, supple, just perfect to the touch. The scent of your perfume was even stronger now, and Jungkook knew then that the smell alone could probably condition him into a boner from now on.

His hips became frantic then, almost pushing you off him with their intensity. But you took it, silently leading him with your own movements as you held onto him for support.

He was beginning to lose himself, knowing an orgasm was approaching. The fleeting thought of your own orgasm made its way into his mind, but it was quickly gone when you started to breathe out encouragements for him to cum, claiming you were right there with him, that you needed him to ruin his pants for you.

When it finally took him, his eyes crossed, head thrown back as he babbled nonsense in absolute bliss. His brain was barely able to register when a few moments later, your own orgasm hit you just as hard. His hips never gave up, still softly swaying with yours as his high went down. He could've sworn he lost consciousness for a few second, as he finally became conscious with himself again when you were kissing at his neck again.

"Fuck. I wasn't planning on that happening," you giggled between soft pecks to the already tattered skin.

"Is this real?", he mused after a few moments of silence. His hands even went to squeeze at your hips, making sure you were truly there.

Unfortunately for him, that's when you left his lap, making him whine as he sat up to close your distance.

"That's not even the best of it, pretty boy," were your last words before turning towards his room, smiling at him to follow you.

Jungkook, being Jungkook, did not think twice before getting up and following you without further instruction, even tripping in the process.

Within just a few minutes of being in his room, you were down to your panties and him to his boxers. As mandated by nature, you were sitting on him again, holding him down by pinning his arms above his head as you made out with him as nasty as you'd done in his living room.

Jungkook had no complaints. If you wanted him tied up and to your mercy, he'd go as far as to beg for the opportunity. His mind was not his own anymore, and neither was his body. As far as he was concerned, he belonged to you — a totally reasonable thought to have.

To be fair, it was quite hard for him to think while the girl of his dreams was lying on top of him with her tongue in his mouth. Not that he was complaining, not at all.

Surprisingly to Jungkook, his hands took free rein of your body. They went from your hair to your back to your ass to your waist and back to your hair. A whole tour of your body was had before Jungkook decided to take a leap and sneak one of his hands between your bodies and take a route south.

Jungkook was inexperienced. That was an unfortunate fact of his life. But despite popular belief, Jungkook was not an idiot. He liked to believe that he was more knowledgeable than the average guy ... maybe. He had tried to overcompensate early during college by taking a female sexuality course and diving into the depths of reddit in order to understand the things he hadn't been able to experience first hand.

That being said, you still had to silently nudge his hand a little higher in the midst of making out, leading him to your clit before gasping into his mouth at the sensation.

His bruised ego got re-inflated quickly after, with your following reactions to his corrected movements going straight to his dick. Your hips canted against his fingers, following their movements in a desperate attempt at increasing the stimulation. Jungkook's head felt heavy at the constant sighs you'd release against his lips.

"Does ... does it feel good?", he still felt the need to ask.

You hummed into his lips in response, tightening around his fingers at the sound of his voice.

Fuck, did you like his voice?

This was something he'd need to save for future use.

Before he could continue to speak, you regrettably removed his fingers from inside you, earning a whine and a furrowed eyebrow from him.

"As much as I want you to finger me, I'd rather defile you," you said with all seriousness, giggling when Jungkook's reaction didn't go further than wide eyes.

"It's okay, baby. I'll make it good for you, I promise," your hand laid on his cheek, caressing it in a gentle manner, creating a huge contrast with your soaked panties sitting right on top of his stained boxers. That was just something he had to ignore in order to not burst spontaneously.

"That's not really what I'm worried about," he avoided eye contact, though his hands remained on you.

"Then what's wrong, Kookie?"

"What if ... what if it's not good for you. I, uh, I know you've done it with a few guys before — N-not judging or anything! Just, I- I don't want to disappoint you or, uhm, embarrass myself," he mumbled some parts lower than others, a little embarrassed by his insecurities on top of it all.

"Koo," you pouted at him, tilting his chin towards you — something that otherwise would've had him reeling — "I've already had way more fun with you than with anyone else. You know why?", you gave him that comforting smile he loved, "Because I like you, and I know you like me just as much. And I know you'll do everything in your power to make this good for me cause you're just ... you're such a good guy. This is just about making each other feel good. Okay? No need to worry about making me feel good, I promise I already am," you punctuated your statement with a kiss to his nose, giggling when he scrunched it.

"Yeah, I, uh, yeah, okay."

He suddenly found himself blushing, having undermined your proximity, or, you know, the fact that you were naked and on top of him, coaxing him into sex that he very much wanted to have with you.

Before you could say anything else, a fiery part of him took over, pulling you into him for a steamy kiss, wanting to express all his word-vomit through actions rather than stumbled words. There was no better way for him to show you how he felt about you, how good he wanted to make you feel. His words would often fail him, so he opted to show you through his actions.

Mid kiss, you got up from his lap, though Jungkook did not allow for the kiss to end, opting to lean upwards and sit up so he could keep himself connected to you. It was awkward, having you lean down as you blindly removed your panties, but it felt necessary to Jungkook. Within seconds you were already back on his lap, clawing at his own boxers to try and remove them while still sitting. It was awkward and difficult, but the job was eventually done, leaving the two of you nude as Jungkook attempted not to hump into you like a needy animal.

"I- I want- God, I want to fuck you so bad," he mumbled in a daze.

"Fuck, you have no idea, Kookie."

You sounded equally as wrecked, already one orgasm in and completely drenched above him. It made Jungkook feel powerful and wanted. He'd never felt desired like this before. It was making him lose his mind. Every passing second without being inside you made him more and more antsy.

Then you finally lifted yourself up, this time prying Jungkook's hands away from your hips so you could lean towards his end table where he knew you'd find condoms.

That shocked Jungkook, making him look at you with wide eyes.

"How-

"I know the guys have been trying to get you laid for ages. Jimin told me he got you some condoms," you chuckled at his shock as you nonchalantly ripped the packet open with your mouth, — fuck, why was that so hot? — taking your position on his crotch once more in order to insert it.

He whimpered at the sight, too turned on to feel embarrassed over it as he ushered for you to hurry up. More tiny sounds of desperation continued to leave him as you actually slipped on the condom and lifted yourself up. The buildup drove him insane with desire. Every second felt elongated, but when the moment to finally lower yourself on him came, Jungkook swore he left this dimension.

He'd read about what it was like. Hell, he'd watched endless porn depicting what were meant to represent virgins (but he was aware were just actors), hoping to understand what the feeling of finally being enveloped by an actual pussy would feel like. But it was safe to say none of it came close to reality.

He was unsure of what he must've looked like to you at that moment, but he truly felt himself completely ruined. His mouth was agape while his eyes closed shut, eyebrows lifting so high up they were likely at his hairline. Fingers dug into your skin, careless of any bruises they could leave behind (he made a mental note of asking if he could kiss them better later, but it was buried under every other feeling at the moment). His toes curled and his body hair rose in goosebumps. Every other part of himself went unaccounted for, as pleasure took over his ability to process anything else.

It was the safest feeling possible. He knew it was an odd way to describe it, but he truly felt like he was made to be inside you. Like he was fitting a part of the puzzle he'd been looking for forever.

On top of that was the immense pleasure, of course. The incoherent pleas and whimpers leaving his lips were a testament of it.

He begged and pleaded and cried and whined and made every embarrassing sound known to man as you started to move. You'd given him a few moments to get used to it, asking if you could move (you only received a gasp and a pathetic nod as a response) before you began a pace so torturously good that it had Jungkook reconsidering his religion.

"S'so good ... fuck. Oh, god, fuck, it's so- ah! shit, f-fuck me," he babbled, literally drooling at the feeling.

He was so yours in this moment, it was ridiculous. Jungkook had always claimed himself as yours (and had even subconsciously saved himself for you), but this feeling simply solidified it. There was no reality in which he wasn't made for you. Made to receive and give all the pleasure from and to you.

At first, his brain could not even process the view above him, and he was glad for it. Because as soon as he could, he was a gone man.

You mirrored his reaction to a certain extent, gasping and furrowing your brows any time his dick would hit a specific part of you that gave you that extra hit of pleasure. Your back was arched and your pelvis glued to his own. The view was something Jungkook could never forget.

"Feel so good, Kookie, fuck ... How could you be worried when it's so fucking good ..." you sighed.

You rambled praise for him, aiding tenfold to the indescribable feeling of being with you in such a bare form. Jungkook was sure his orgasm was pathetically close, but he could not bring himself to even think of it. Not when his undoing was so unimaginably euphoric.

He had no way of warning you, instead writhing and gasping under you. It was an out of body experience, taking him to a place so high he wasn't sure he would ever come back down.

And then everything went dark.

He wasn't sure how long he was unconscious for, but by the time the convulsions ended and his heart rate went back down, you were already lying down next to him. Cuddled up next to him, your fingers ran up and down his chest in a softness he'd never experienced, accompanied by the occasional peck left against his skin.

"Love you," he mumbled when his words finally found him.

"You scared me!," you sat up a bit to face him better, "Are you back with me now? Did my pussy break you?"

You were joking, but Jungkook was almost entirely sure that was what had happened.

"How long was I out for?", he turned to face you, arm wrapping around you to pull you closer.

"Just a few minutes. Was that too intense?"

"Hah, no, just ... yeah. I've never felt something like that before."

"Well, now you get to feel it any time you want," you grinned at him with a peck to his lips.

"Hmm, yeah," he mumbled happily before a thought snapped him out of his post-coital daze, "Wait, fuck, did you cum?"

"Yeah. I was almost there, Kookie, don't worry. Just had to work myself a bit more after you passed out. No biggie," you reassured him.

Before he could protest, you shushed him with your hand hovering over his mouth.

"Don't whine about it. I literally came in my pants because of you. Consider that a win."

And that was that.

Jungkook decided to let it go and instead cuddle you to sleep, completely disregarding the rollercoaster this night had been. Nothing else really seemed to matter while he held you in his arms anyways. Especially due to the warmth of your bare skin against his own, just like he'd always wanted.

to read short 1.8k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my jk monthly tier on patreon!

content: jk and reader being annoying and in their honeymoon phase, smut, afab reader, grinding, kissing, oral (m receiving), overstimulation, etc.

wc: 451 (teaser); 1842 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"God, man, I heard about Sora. I'm so sorry," Joon began, "I didn't think she'd be so mean to you. She hounded me in the hallway just an hour ago about lying to her and setting her up with a loser — sorry, her words."

This caused you to groan in annoyance, cuddling further into Jungkook at the mention of the faceless girl you'd never met but had grown to hate.

Jungkook had let you in on all the details on what had happened upon further insistence from you. It was safe to say that he had to talk you down from jumping her in the hallway (he knew you'd never actually do such a thing, but the thought counted regardless).

"Ew, don't bring her up. Jungkook's never looked in another woman's direction ever. Right, Kookie?"

It was a little inside joke between you. After having defiled him, you'd developed some healthy possessiveness over him. He was over the moon about it, always playing into it.

Joon simply chuckled, rolling his eyes at both the joke and the sight of the two of you practically cuddled up on a bench in the middle of the quad. No sense or shame for being that annoying couple, nor any care for your other friends sitting across from you, already put off by you.

"It's true," Jungkook nodded, "And that shitty date ended up working in my favor in the end, so if anything, I should be thanking you," he added.

"Finally getting you to shut up about Y/N is payment enough," he walked over to the bench you'd been sitting at, with Taehyung and Jimin sitting to the other side of it.The two had quickly learned to disregard the two of you and your lovesickness for each other, "Now get off each other. No one needs to see you sitting on Jungkook's lap at 11:30 in the morning."

"We already tried. They literally kicked me off that side of the bench so she could lay on him," grumbled Jimin before giving his attention back to Taehyung.

You got up then, nose scrunching at Kook's whine at the sudden disconnect between you, "It's fine. We were just leaving anyway," you held out your hand for him to get up.

"Let me know when the honeymoon phase is over," jested Joon as he took the seat you'd emptied.

Already on your way to leave, you turned back with a smile, "You're just jealous that me and my boyfriend are in love!", Jungkook giggled at your loudness.

"Where are we going?", he asked as he followed you mindlessly.

"To get some privacy, baby. They don't tolerate real lovers here," you joked in a mockingly serious tone.

...

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#bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts imagine #bts scenario #bts scenarios #bts x reader #bts fanfction #jungkook imagine #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenarios #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader

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stllmnstr · 29 days ago

Text

starlight

pairing: yang jungwon x f reader

genre: soulmates au, university au

word count: 13.4k

warnings: swearing, angst (but a happy ending because I’m not a monster), soulmate lore, copious amounts of pining and yearning and sighing

soundtrack: crying over you - honne, beka / a world alone - lorde / this is me trying / invisible string / daylight - taylor swift / spring day - bts / so far away - agust d, suran

note: this was another find in my old drafts that I spent a couple of days editing/rewriting. I have very much been in a jungwon mood these days, and it was fun to venture into some more angsty stuff that I haven't written in a while. happy reading! ♡

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

There’s a word for it. Something that’s whispered behind closed doors, shunned like a bad omen you can’t quite shake.

Glitch. A cruel twist of fate. A failed soulmate match.

Something you’ve been marked as since the countdown on your wrist ticked to 00:00 two long years ago and left you lonelier than ever. Something you’ve been fighting since destiny carved itself into your skin with a dull, lifeless shade of gray.

But fate is a funny thing. And love, as you’ve learned, is often found in the most unexpected places.

or,

fate, with all of its cruel, incandescent scheming, leads straight to yang jungwon.

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

The overhead fluorescents in this particular lecture hall always manage to leave you with a pounding headache that even a strong dose of Advil can never quite seem to mitigate.

“And with time, these bonds only strengthen. Until a point is reached after which both parties would experience immense pain were they to be physically separated, willingly or not.”

Well, it’s either the lightbulbs or your professor’s droning.

Today, his words are slightly muted where they reach your ears, as if you’re underwater. Drowning in a topic that’s been beaten to death a million times over.

Still, this is information you should be taking in. Or, at the very least, jotting down notes of, since it’s all but guaranteed to appear on your final exam. But no matter how much you will yourself to focus, you can’t get your mind to cooperate.

After all, it’s bad enough that you’re forced to be here in the first place.

Sociology 112: Intro to Soulmate Theory. An absolute joke of a class.

The very foundation your society is built around. A nagging reminder of the grayscale deficiency that stains the skin of your left inner wrist.

Subconsciously, you tug the left sleeve of your shirt down a little further. There’s no need, not really. You made sure that your mark was fully covered before you left your dorm room this morning. Just like every morning.

But long standing habits are rarely broken, and the last thing you need now is another reminder of what makes you different. What makes you wrong.

At the front of the lecture hall, your professor pushes forward in that same, monotonous stupor. He’s either unaware or unconcerned by the fact that some of his students may be affected by his lecture on more than just a purely academic level.

Staring straight ahead, you distract yourself by scanning your professor, eyes taking in his appearance. At the very least, it will make it look as if you’re paying attention to what he’s saying.

With the signature graying hair most men in their mid-fifties carry, a pair of rather plain, slightly round eyeglasses, and neutral button-down appropriate for most professional settings, there’s nothing particularly noteworthy about your professor.

Like most people, he gets up in the morning, selects a plain shirt from his modestly sized closet. He enjoys a cup or two of black coffee before embarking on his morning commute to campus, leaving ten minutes earlier than strictly necessary, because he’s convinced it helps him avoid the worst of the morning traffic.

His life is one of normalcy, you imagine. Nothing that most people would find especially enviable or extraordinary.

But when he reaches up to point out an example on the lecture slide, the left sleeve of that beige button down lifts, just slightly.

You only catch a glimpse, a tiny fraction of a look, but you see it all the same. The glossy, shiny, red 00:00 inked into his skin.

You resist the urge to scratch your wrist. He clicks forward to the next slide. Life goes on.

“As per the syllabus, you’ll be completing projects with an assigned parter on a topic of your choice. Although I encourage you to consult a variety of resources and include several points of view in your project, the only firm guideline is that your topic relates to soulmate theory.”

Several points of view. You suppress the urge to roll your eyes. Yeah, right. In your experience, any arguments against the traditional soulmate model are scoffed at. Met with nothing but anger and ridicule.

Although it makes for a miserable life, it does make for a simplistic assignment. Assigned partners are usually the bane of your existence, but no matter how incompetent this one is, you’re sure it will be easy enough to meet up once or twice in the university library and regurgitate common sentiment on how the soulmate system is nothing short of a wondrous gift to humanity.

Glancing at the clock as your professor officially dismisses class for the morning, you suppose you do have something to thank the heavens for. He’s wrapped up fifteen minutes early, which means you’ll have enough time to grab a coffee before your shift.

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and once again checking that the fabric of your left sleeve covers your wrist, you slide your laptop into your bag and stand up from your seat.

No matter what particular strand of bullshit this class dragged you through, today will be a good day. Or at least a comfortingly neutral one. You’re sure of it.

With one final scan of your desk, you head to the exit at the front of the lecture hall without a backwards glance.

And in the very back corner of the lecture hall, tucked neatly out of both sight and mind, Yang Jungwon exhales a long sigh before gathering his things.

…..

“Oh, you are an absolute angel.”

Playful frown tugging at your lips, you ask, “Why is it that you only praise me when I come bearing gifts?”

Jake’s too engrossed with taking a long sip of the matcha latte you just handed him to concern himself with giving your question a real answer.

Despite his inclination to be most forthcoming with compliments when they’re a payment for caffeine, he’s hands down your favorite coworker. He’s genuinely kind, easygoing in a way that makes even the longest of shifts pass quickly.

Setting your bag down, you slide into the seat next to his, turning on your desk computer. “Any new applications to process today.”

“Nothing yet.” Jake glances at the empty inbox to confirm his answer. He shrugs, adding, “This time of year is usually fairly slow, though. We tend to get the most applications at the beginning of the semester and around the holidays.”

“Right,” you nod. “That makes sense.” Times when people are fresh on campus, away from home and exploring a new environment for the first time. And times when people are lonely.

It’s something you understand well. After all, you had been part of the latter group when you submitted your own application.

Last year was your first year of university, and although the numbers on your wrist had already faded to a dull, matte gray by the time you enrolled, living on campus put you far away from your support system for the first time in your life.

Even then, you avoided it as long as you could. It hurt something in your pride, felt like admitting a weakness, admitting a flaw. But the truth could only be avoided so long and on one cloudy afternoon in late fall, the loneliness crossed the line from painful to unbearable.

So, with a rain jacket pulled tight around your body, you made your way to the Student Support Center on campus and sought out help for something you’d been grieving in private for the better part of a year.

It had still felt like shame, to disclose the details of your condition. To tell another person about the cosmic cruelty etched permanently into the soft skin of your left wrist.

And then it was done. Your secret belonged to someone else, too. Pain was shared, and over time, started to feel less like a cut and more like a bruise.

It still ached when you pressed on it, of course, but you felt lighter. Able to breathe a little easier.

But even with all of the support, all of the work you’ve done to feel a bit more like yourself, pain is still a shadow that lingers at your heels.

Even now, months later, sitting next to a friend, you suppress the urge to tug at your sleeve again.

You’re able to see your actions for what they are now. And you suppose it’s the same thing – injured pride, a deep sense of shame, that has you wearing long sleeves even as the last days of late summer cling to the air with stifling heat.

It’s not as if your unfamiliar with the failure etched into your skin. You know what you would find, what everyone would see if you were to wear short sleeves for once.

A dull, matte gray 00:00. A reminder of what could’ve been. What should have been, if the universe had just been a little kinder to you.

Even as days and weeks and months pass you by, you still remember when there was a different number displayed there. One that got smaller with each passing second. One that, like your professor’s, like everyone else’s, glowed a bright, glossy red.

Just like everyone else, you were born with red numbers on your left wrist. There was no sign then, at your birth, that you were different. That you were a glitch.

Just like your family, just like your friends, just like every stranger you passed in the street, your number was normal. In fact, it was enviable. Mostly because it was so much smaller than average.

As a child, you’d reveled in it – the comparatively short length of your soulmate countdown. It wasn’t unusual for people to have to wait well into their twenties, thirties, or even forties to find their soulmate.

But a quick calculation had revealed that your countdown would tick to 00:00 just after your seventeenth birthday.

It feels stupid now, like some sort of cruel joke, that you ever thought of yourself as lucky.

You still remember it as if it were yesterday. Two long years ago, at the delicate age of seventeen. On the precipice of a life-changing revelation. A moment that was meant to mark the beginning of your forever. Your happy ending.

The air was clean that day. Lingering with the fresh scent of the earth after a rainstorm. Rebirth. A sign of something beautiful to come. Dew and humidity clung to you like a second skin as you raced towards the neighborhood park that had been haunting your dreams for the last few weeks.

Soulmates and the bonds that connect them aren’t magic, not exactly, but there was still something divine about it, the cosmic energy that sang to you. That told you that this particular park was where your life was destined to change. That it was where you were going to meet your soulmate.

The other person who felt the same gentle tug towards you, whose wrist was stained with a matching countdown, set to tick down to 00:00 at the very second your eyes locked with one another.

Your heart was racing, nearly beating out of your chest. Your fingertips thrummed with it, that overflow of energy that didn’t come from you but belonged to you all the same.

And like everyone else, your timer ran out.

He was there. He was there, and you knew it was him without having to say a word. Across the park, under the shade of an old sycamore tree, you could see it, feel it in his eyes.

Your soulmate.

Handsome and a year older than you, if you had to guess. A perfect stranger that you felt like you already knew. That already understood you without the need for words.

You had been too wrapped up in it, in him, to notice the one striking oddity. Because unlike everyone else, your completed countdown, that ever coveted 00:00, didn’t remain that gorgeous, shiny red.

No, while your eyes were locked on his, heart singing with unfulfilled dreams and visions of a future you’d never have the privilege of knowing, it had faded to that same dull gray that mocks you now.

It wasn’t the color that you noticed. It was the burning sensation that finally had you tearing your gaze away from him and landing on the skin of your left wrist.

Confused, your brow drew together as you tried to make sense of it. As your mind spun, searching for a plausible explanation.

And when you finally found it in you to look up at him again, the wrongness of it all began to sink in. The way he walked toward you with slow, reluctant steps. The way his mouth pulled tight at the corners, as if he wanted to prevent any words from escaping.

The wedding ring wrapped around the finger on his left hand. The already occupied space you thought would belong to you one day.

It was an accident, he told you. Even then, his voice had been steady. He wasn’t pleading for your forgiveness. He didn’t need it. He didn’t need you.

It was nothing more than a drunken mistake between him and a girl he met at university. One that he wasn’t serious about, but damage had been done nonetheless. A single night that was meant to be a blip, a passing moment in time, but had turned into a child. One that the two of them had already made the decision to raise together.

A child that had made them both decide to forgo the fate written on their wrists and forge a new life on their own.

It hurt, he told you, to see you, to know that he was causing you pain.

But one glance at him confirmed for you that his hurt was different from yours. For one, he could still speak, could form words with that same, even cadence that felt like knives embedding themselves into your skin.

You had wanted to beg, wanted to scream until your throat was raw. It was him. It was him. He was supposed to be yours, and you were supposed to be his. Wasn’t it the same for him? Didn’t he feel it too?

But his mind was made up and you knew better than to plead with a man who had fought and forsaken destiny itself.

It wasn’t your fault. He had told that day, and you’ve heard it countless times since then. From your parents. From your closest friends. From your own tear-stained reflection in your bedroom mirror.

But blame with nowhere to go always had a way of ending up on your shoulders, and empty reassurances never stopped your mind from spinning with painful possibilities on sleepless nights.

What if we had met sooner? What if he had never met her? What if they never had a child?

Or even worse,

What if I found him again? Begged him to reconsider? Convinced him to leave her?

In the end, it was pointless. Fate had been written and then rewritten. Would in a tight string and undone in one fell swoop. The stars had aligned and shifted and still remained so terribly out of reach.

There was nothing you could do, nothing to be done.

But it didn’t stop the loneliness from seeping in. It was always loudest in the quiet moments, but it never truly left. It didn’t matter where you were – in class, with friends, surrounded by people, or completely alone. There was always an overwhelming sense of loss, of loneliness that followed you wherever you went.

So last fall, when the burden of it felt too heavy to bear alone, you’d bitten the bullet and applied to your university’s support program for glitches. Although, of course, none of the staff dared to use that word.

It’s where you first met Jake. And the bright red number on his wrist still ticks evenly, he had a friend once, one that shared a fate similar to yours. One who let the loneliness consume her instead of accepting help.

Even though it wasn’t through firsthand experience, Jake knew the pain of a failed soulmate match intimately. And after a handful of weeks, you’d found genuine friendship in him.

After a few months of attending support groups, he was the one who suggested you for an open position on the support team. It was him that thought you might find a renewed sense of purpose, a distinct kind of empathy for the other students on campus with stories like yours.

You’re grateful beyond words for him, for all of it. For the people and the friendships and the small moments that remind you that life is worth living, even on the hard days. Even when you’re forced to sit through classes on soulmate theory and pretend like long sleeves are nothing but a fashion statement.

So you’ll take his compliments with a smile, even when they come at the expense of a matcha latte from his favorite campus cafe. You’ll take the hard days and the good days and all the little moments in between.

He knows it too, even if you don’t say it with words. Even if all you ask is, “The matcha’s good?”

But something in you still smiles, still feels a little lighter, when Jake turns to you with a grin and assures, “Of course.”

…..

If there’s one place you still find to be painfully devoid of optimism, it’s your damn Intro to Soulmate Theory course. Although it’s an important element of existing sociological systems and objectively relevant, it presses on your ever-lingering bruises more than just about anything else in your day-to-day life.

As if that weren’t enough, it’s a morning class. Which means you’re already in a dreary mood as the clock ticks painfully slow through yet another monotone lecture.

Thankfully, your professor’s cadence is beginning to slow, a surefire signal that class is drawing to an end. Again, you glance up at the clock, a spark of pleasant surprise flickering through your mind. Could you really be so lucky as to get out early two classes in a row?

At the front of the hall, your professor scans his notes one final time. Nodding slightly, you really think he’s about to let you go ten minutes ahead of schedule.

But then his eyes pause at the bottom of the page, a reminder he missed the first time.

“Before we wrap up for the day,” he says, and you suppress the urge to groan audibly. “As I mentioned last class, you’ll be completing your next assignment in partners.”

That’s right. You’d almost forgot. Ugh, as if the disappointment of a full length lecture hadn’t been bad enough.

“The instructions, rubric, and due date can all be found on your syllabus, and as always, you’re welcome to email me or attend office hours with any additional questions you may have. I’ve already taken the initiative to place you in pairs, so please listen for your name.”

Glancing down at his notes again, he reads out the first pair.

“Kim Sunoo and Lee Heeseung.”

As he moves through the seemingly endless list of names, you begin to tune out. Have there always been this many people in this class? Admittedly, this is not a lecture that often commands your attention, but it seems like something you should have picked up on.

A minute later, spurred by the sudden sound of your own name, your attention snaps back into focus.

“... and Yang Jungwon.”

Yang Jungwon.

It’s a name you’ve heard in passing, maybe. But it’s not one you’re familiar with.

Standing as the list draws to a conclusion, you begin to look around the emptying lecture hall. You figure it might be easiest to exchange information now, but you’re not sure if you’ll be able to find him with everyone else trying to do the same.

Sighing, you decide to try for a minute or two before just resorting to looking up his email on the online class list later and sending him a message there.

Ultimately, it’s him who finds you.

“___?” At the sound of your name, you spin around, looking back over your shoulder.

His presence, like his voice, is unassuming. Still, as your eyes land on who you assume must be Yang Jungwon, there’s something about him that makes you want to keep looking.

Dark hair falls over his forehead, framing equally dark eyes. Dressed in a baggy sweatshirt and oversized jeans, the attention doesn’t seem like something he’d seek out. Even now, he doesn’t quite match your gaze.

“Yeah,” you affirm, somewhat breathless. “Yang Jungwon?”

“Just Jungwon is fine.” He smiles, but it’s a tight, strained thing. Doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He’s pressing forward before you have time to linger on it. “Do you want to go ahead an exchange information now? I’ll get my final training schedule this afternoon, so I can message you when I have a better idea of when I’ll be able to meet up.”

Well, he seems competent enough. Or at the very least, willing to put in effort. It’s more than you can say for most of the assigned partners you’ve been given. And it’s pleasant surprise in a string of disappointments and what is surely going to be a miserable project to work on.

“That sounds good,” you nod, reaching for your phone. You open a new contact before handing it to him to fill out. As he types, you watch a strand of hair fall over his eyes. He doesn’t bother to brush it away, even as your fingertips itch with the sudden urge to.

Instead, you busy yourself with asking a question. “Training schedule?” you echo his earlier words. “Are you an athlete?”

If he’s put off by your probing, he doesn’t show it. Steady as ever, he continues typing. “Mhm,” he hums. “Taekwondo team.”

“Ah,” you nod. “That’s cool.” Accepting your phone back, you type your name into the newly created chat. “Here, I sent you a message with my name, so you have my information, too. I work in the afternoons, but I have a pretty consistent schedule. Once you have your training times, we can figure out when we’re both free.”

Glancing at the message that comes through on his end, Jungwon confirms, “Perfect.” Hiking his bag a little further up on his shoulder, he pauses for a moment before turning his gaze towards the door at the front of the lecture hall.

In the time that’s elapsed, most of the other students have made their way towards it. The room is significantly more empty than it was a handful of minutes ago. Still, Jungwon lingers for a moment.

Finally, he looks back at you. This time, he does meet your eyes.

You know it’s nothing but the overhead lights. The same obnoxious fluorescents that always give you a pounding headache. But reflected in his dark, searching gaze, they almost look like starlight.

“I’ll see you around, then,” he says before turning towards the door.

And if you let your gaze linger just a little too long on his retreating back, you’ll be grateful that no one is paying you enough attention to notice.

…..

Your dinner is cleaned up, skincare is completed, and the events from your day are blurring into a sleepy sort of haze when his first message reaches you.

9:36 pm Yang Jungwon I got my final training schedule. Looks like I should be free Tuesday and Thursday afternoons after 4 if that works for you?

Double checking your work schedule, you type a reply.

9:38 pm You I work on Tuesdays until 6 but I can do Thursday at 4.

9:39 pm Yang Jungwon Let’s plan on Thursday then 👍 Meet you at the library? I’ll reserve a study room on the first floor.

9:40 pm You Sounds good, see you then!

With the semester well underway, Thursday is quick to roll around. Other than a quick wave and a small smile towards him during your last shared lecture, you haven’t had any contact with Jungwon since your last messages.

Even though it’s still only early afternoon, you’re already feeling the weight of a busy day weighing on you when you arrive at the library. A handful of minutes before four, you’re working to locate the study room Jungwon just sent you the number of.

Navigating your way through frazzled study groups and overworked, overcaffeinated upperclassmen, you finally find it with a few minutes to spare. Pulling the door open slowly, you’re half surprised to see that he’s arrived even earlier than you.

Early and straight from practice, you assume, if his still slightly damp hair is anything to go by. Freshly showered, the faint smell of his shampoo reaches you where you slide down into the seat across from him.

“Good call on the study room,” you add after your initial greeting. “I always forget how packed the library is once the semester really gets going.”

“Right?” Jungwon agrees. “I have a friend who swore by them last year, and now I’ll never go back.

“Letting you in on the study room secret,” you grin, pulling out your laptop. “That’s a true friend right there.”

“Yeah.” Something in Jungwon’s gaze softens as he nods. There’s a distinct fondness in his eyes, one that makes you think there’s a story there. One about more than just study rooms. “He is.”

When you finish settling in, you pull up your course syllabus again, clicking on the link to the assignment guidelines. “So,” you start, scanning the page one more time, “the instruction seem pretty straightforward. It looks liek we just need to pick a topic within the realm of soulmate theory and discuss recent research or developments.”

Swallowing the sudden lump in your throat, you suppress the urge to tug at your left sleeve. Eyes honing in on the screen in front of you, you force yourself into a practiced state of detachment. The one you always revert back into when discussing this particular topic.

“I don’t know if you have a topic in mind already,” you shrug, “but I’m pretty much open to anything.”

Across from you, Jungwon’s teeth start to worry at his bottom lip. He hesitates for a moment, the room suspended in silence before he ventures, “What about –” Shaking his head slightly, his words die on his lips. “Never mind.”

Looking up at him, you frown. “Is there something you’re interested in?”

“No.” Jungwon shakes his head again. “I doubt there would be any recent research, anyway.”

“Okay,” you concede. Part of you wants to push further, but you don’t want to make him uncomfortable. Instead, you type in a quick search. “I just pulled up some recent research topics, and it looks like there’s been development related to countdown colors and location based soulmate matches.” Ignoring the sudden slight burning sensation on your left wrist, you fight to maintain an even tone as you ask, “Do either of those sound interesting to you?”

Jungwon pauses for a moment, considering. “Maybe location based matches?”

Exhaling, you release a breath you hadn’t been meaning to hold. With a small nod, you tell him, “That sounds good. Let’s look for publications to reference today. We can divide them between us before we go and then take notes on them separately. We can meet up again next week at the same time to start an outline, if that works for you. We have a little over four weeks until the final paper is due, so that should give us a decent start.”

“Yeah,” Jungwon agrees. “That works for me.”

Returning to your computer, you fight the urge to steal small glances at him as he does the same. In the minutes that follow, a silence settles around you. It’s not horribly awkward, but you still find yourself itching to fill it with something.

Finally, you bite the bullet. “Would it be okay with you if I put some music on? Just something instrumental.”

Glancing up at you, your eyes meet. Again, you’re not sure how he does it. But tucked away in a library study room, his gaze reflects the lights above you in a way that looks all too much like starlight. “Sure,” Jungwon nods.

Forcing your gaze back to your screen, you navigate to your study playlist and put it on shuffle. The first handful of notes spill into the silence, a calm piano melody that cuts through some of the stagnance.

A handful of classical pieces and a dozen journal articles later, Jungwon breaks the easy rhythm the two of you have fallen into. “Clair de Lune,” he names the tune that has just begun to weave itself around the room. A small smile turns the corners of his lips upwards. “This is on my study playlist, too.”

You offer him a matching smile in return. A soft thing. A shared moment. “You like this song?” It makes sense. A boy with stars in his eyes listening to a love letter to the moon.

“Yeah,” he nods. The quiet melody sings through the air, floats around tentative glances, delicate breaths. Lands lightly on two sets of shoulders. “You know, you’re better than I am. I always end up turning on my regular playlist and then singing along to the songs instead of actually working on anything.”

That earns him a full blown smile. “Believe me,” you lean in like it’s a secret. Something meant just for the two of you. “I do that more than I probably should, too.”

A shared grin later, the two of you are back to your own laptop screens.

Even though it’s your study playlist that continues to filter softly through your speaker, you find yourself distracted for a different reason.

It’s all too easy to imagine.

Jungwon, alone in his room, eyes sparkling even as he fights off the clutches of sleep. A song playing through his speaker. An old favorite, maybe, or perhaps something he heard on the radio and hasn’t been able to get out of his head since. One that he sings along to softly, assignments lying untouched on the desk in front of him.

…..

Despite your newfound fondness of your project partner, you’re sure that Intro to Soulmate Theory will continue to be your most dreaded class until the end of the semester releases you from its twice-a-week morning monotony.

The universe, as always, seems determined to prove you wrong, though.

Just as your professor steps into position behind the podium at the front of the lecture hall, a person slides down into the usually unoccupied seat just to the left of yours.

Startled, you glance up .

“Jungwon?”

“Hey,” the boy in question smiles. Switching to a whisper as the professor begins his lecture, he adds, “I’m glad I made it on time. I thought for sure I was going to be late.”

Sliding his bag off of his shoulder, he pulls out his computer and finishes settling into the seat next to yours. Then, he sets something on the desk in front of you. “I brought this for you, by the way.”

Eyes landing on the iced coffee in front of you, you can’t find it in yourself to do anything but stare for a moment.

“I noticed you have one sometimes, in this class.” With your silence, Jungwon suddenly seems unsure of himself. “I wasn’t sure what your order was, so I just guessed based on color. And I mean, light brown can be just about anything with iced coffee, so I hope you like it. I probably should have just asked, but…” he trails off, and you don’t think you imagine the light dusting of pink that settles across his cheekbones. “But I thought it would be nicer as a surprise.”

“I – thank you.” The fondness that’s been growing since your time together in library study room begins to swell again.

You glance at him, and your heart gives a strange, unsteady lurch. Not entirely unpleasant, but disquieting all the same. For a moment, it feels like something bigger. Something more.

Something you haven’t felt since a humid afternoon in a neighborhood park that you’ve been trying to forget for a long time.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

Jungwon shrugs, but his cheeks retain their color. “I was stopping by the cafe anyway.” He gestures to the coffee on his own desk, proof of his claim. “Besides, it’s what a partner’s for.”

“Well, thank you,” you repeat. “I –”

“Again,” the sound of your professor’s voice, suddenly sharp, cuts through your words. “I’d like to give a firm reminder to you all that my lectures are not an appropriate place to carry on side conversations. Feel free to exit the room and forfeit your attendance points for the day if you are unable to refrain.”

Thoroughly cowed, you shrink back into your seat as a few wandering pairs of eyes land on you.

At your side, Jungwon shakes with a silent hint of laughter.

Despite the humiliation of essentially being asked to shut up in front of an entire lecture hall, the sight is enough to have you smiling.

And when the two of you part ways an hour later with matching smiles and a promise to see each other again Thursday afternoon, your heart feels lighter than it has in ages.

…..

When Thursday afternoon comes, it finds you and Jungwon tucked away in the same study room, sitting across from one another, laptops open, and outline for your project halfway formed.

This time, the drinks that sit on the table in front of you are courtesy of your wallet. The iced coffee Jungwon brought you a few mornings ago wasn’t your usual order, but it is what you’re sipping on now. You can’t quite decide what you enjoy more: the taste or the sentiment.

Either way, you have a feeling that a tradition of sorts may be blooming.

You can’t say that you mind. It’s nice to have something to look forward to, to have someone to share it with. It doesn’t matter that it’s small. It doesn’t matter that it’s just an unexpected coffee to help a study session pass by just a bit faster. It feels nice, to be considered. To be thought of. It feels… special.

With the same instrumental study playlist filtering through your laptop speaker, the two of you exchange a smile when Clair de Lune begins to play.

With startling clarity, you realize that you enjoy this. It’s pleasant. A project that you were dreading with dragging feet has become something you look forward to.

And you’re sure that it’s because of him.

Despite the fact that you’re poring over research that would sting like a slap to the face under any other circumstances, Jungwon’s presence has a way of soothing the ache. Even as you scan over another promising article detailing the current research on soulmate matches in various geographic regions, you find yourself fighting smiles. Stealing glances.

All Jungwon is doing is sitting next to you. Occasionally trading mindless conversations with you. But that’s enough to keep the reminders of a tragic fate lost to decisions and circumstances out of your control at bay for the time being.

You’re not sure what it is, not sure why it seems to reach you somewhere that’s remained untouched for years, but the more time you spend with Jungwon, the more you start to like it.

That odd sensation that almost feels like butterflies in your stomach. The stilted rhythm of a heartbeat that almost feels like it’s running a little faster, skipping a step every now and then.

The warmth that sits high on your cheekbones and heats almost like a flustered blush whenever he catches your eye for a little too long.

A million little almosts. A thousand little possibilities. The lingering ghost of a hundred somethings you thought you lost along with the dead countdown on your wrist two long years ago.

But you don’t let yourself voice these thoughts. You’re afraid to even let your mind linger on them for too long.

If it does, you’re worried that it will twist and tarnish whatever is taking flight into something ugly, something rotten. Will convince you that this glimmer of peace you’ve found is living on borrowed time and will only bring a future of misery in its wake.

Because the semester will end, the class will finish, and your project will be submitted.

Yang Jungwon will become nothing but a moment in time. A blip on a radar. A distant memory that you hope you’ll reflect on with fondness.

Time will continue on with its incessant march, and the countdown on your wrist will still be that ugly, faded, gray.

It doesn’t matter if the moments that pass between the two of you feel like almosts. Your fate was already written and unraveled by another man who didn’t want you.

You’re a failure. A glitch.

Pretty words and sideways glances and unexpected gestures imbued with kindness won’t change that. Won’t fix you.

Yang Jungwon will move on from this project, from this class, from you.

The countdown that you’re sure must tick bright red on his wrist will continue to get smaller and smaller, and you will be nothing but a forgotten memory.

You’re not sure why it’s so upsetting, here in the sanctity of the study room. Not sure why this series of truths you’ve always known is suddenly so devastating. But something about the way they swirl in the recesses of your mind had you flailing, desperate for air, for distance, for space.

Out loud, you choke out a halfhearted excuse about stepping out for a moment. The concern that immediately flickers across Jungwon’s features barely registers in your panic induced stupor.

You need to go. Need to get away. Need to find somewhere to be alone and away from all of it, from him. You can’t breathe –

“___?” You hear your name. You know it’s him. Hear him ask gently, “Are you okay?”

But it’s muffled. It’s all wrong.

In your haste to escape, you knock over the gift, your gesture of goodwill in the form of coffee you bought for Jungwon.

You watch, horrified, as it falls in slow motion. Hot, dark liquid spills over the table, narrowly avoiding his laptop and class notes.

Of course. Of course you ruined this, too.

“It’s okay,” you think you hear him say as he reaches for a spare napkin, dabbing at the growing puddle. But it’s not. It’s not.

He reaches for his bag, pulling out another handful of napkins from the front pocket. Instinctively, he rolls up his sleeve, the left one, to wipe up the rest of the excess liquid.

That’s when you see it. The inky 00:00 on the inside of his left wrist.

It’s not red. It’s not shiny. It doesn’t make sense for him. A boy with stars in his eyes should have love on his skin.

But even as you blink again, it remains unchanged. It’s a dull, muted, lifeless gray.

A reflection, a twin, a copy of your own.

A moment too late, his eyes fall to the skin of his wrist too. With the practiced reflexes of a trained athlete, he’s pulling it down just as quickly as he rolled it up. But it’s too late. You’ve already seen the truth.

Shared pain. Shared shame.

It grounds you. Reaching out a hand, you take a few napkins from the top of the pile.

“Here,” you offer, voice unbearably small. A million questions swim in your mind, none of which you’ll ask. “I can help.” Hollow words and a hollow sentiment. There’s nothing you can do for him, and he knows it just as well. As luck would have it, spilled coffee is the least of your shared concerns.

Nonetheless, the two of you wipe up the remainder of the spill in silence, a gentle piano melody still weaving its way around the space between the two of you. It wraps itself around both of your stained wrists, threads an invisible string between two lost souls, two shared fates.

Finally, after long minutes, you are the first one to speak. “It didn’t get on your computer, did it?”

“No,” Jungwon shakes his head. He reaches an outstretched hand towards you, taking the soiled napkins you still hold before discarding them in the trash can. “Just the table.”

“That’s good.” A moment passes. Two. And then, “I’m sorry.” You’re not sure what you’re apologizing for. You’re not sure what you should be apologizing for. In the end, you take the easy way out. “I should have paid better attention to where your cup was. You can finish mine, if you want.”

“That’s okay.” Running a hand through his hair, Jungwon explains, “I usually only drink it hot.”

“I can get you a new one –”

“Really,” he insists. “It’s okay.”

And it is. You can tell that he’s not upset, not about the coffee. But the tension is still there. Has yet to vacate the room. Has yet to drain from the tight line in his shoulders.

You saw it. You have the sinking suspicion that he knows you saw it.

That puts you at a crossroads. You can act as if nothing has happened, pretend that you saw nothing and do your best to return to your project.

But you’ve had friends and family tiptoe around you for the last two years, and it never left you feeling anything but empty. Even more unwanted, more of an anomaly. More of a glitch.

You don’t want Jungwon to feel those things. Don’t want him to feel as if he has to carry all of his pain by himself. So, you try your best, in a steady voice, hiding the shake in your hands underneath the cover of the table in front of you.

“You know,” you nod towards his arm, taking great care to keep any sign of judgement clear from your voice. “I actually work at the Student Support Center. I know it’s rare, but there are lots of people and resources there dedicated to helping people that… struggle with soulm–”

“I think we should just work on the project.” Jungwon’s lips are tight, drawn into a thin line. Avoiding your gaze, he sinks a little further into his chair. Even with his eyes trained on the floor beneath him, you can see the tension in his jaw, the uneasy tapping of his fingers against his leg.

The way he tugs at the sleeve that sits over his left wrist makes you want to press matters further, to push just a little more until he knows that he has you on his side, but you’ll respect his wishes.

You may have shared moments between the two of you, but you don’t know him, not really. The boundaries he sets are not yours to push. The lines he draws are not yours to cross.

The last thing you want to do is increase his discomfort, even if you have the sinking feeling that you’ve already done just that.

“Okay, yeah.” You take a deep inhale. “I overstepped. I’m sor–”

But Jungwon just shakes his head again. “Don’t worry about it.”

…..

But you do.

You worry about it when you head back to your down nearly an hour later, after bidding him a goodnight that was still riddled with tension.

You worry about it as you prepare dinner, accidentally leaving the stovetop on long after you’ve finished cooking.

You worry about it as you try to fall asleep, unsettling thoughts of Jungwon suffering from the same pain, the same shame you’ve been hiding for the last two years. Distantly, you wonder how long it’s been for him.

You worry about it when you arrive at your next Intro to Soulmate Theory lecture, two coffees in hand.

Your worry turns to dread when long minutes tick by and still, the seat on your left remains horribly unoccupied, coffee going cold where it sits untouched on the desk.

You worry when you arrive at work, the handful of messages you’ve sent still unanswered no matter how many times you check your phone.

10:47 am You Hi Jungwon, sorry if this is annoying but you weren’t in class today and I just wanted to make sure you’re okay

10:58 am You I’m really sorry about the other day at the library. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.

1:32 pm You Hey let me know when you see this. I just really want to make sure you’re okay.

You’ve typed and deleted a million more, unsure of how to best approach the situation. You’re not close to one another, not really. You’re not even friends. You’re project partners, and not even of your own volition.

You can’t seek him out, because you don’t know where he lives. Who he talks to. What his schedule is.

The whole situation has you feeling a bit helpless. Your shift passes in an absentminded blur as you try to piece together some kind of solution, some way of making sure he’s okay.

In your daze, you hardly notice that the clock has ticked all the way to the end of your shift. Jake finds you, an apologetic smile on his features.

His voice sounds far away, muddled as he asks you for a favor, asks if you’d be willing to pull a double tonight since the person on the evening shift just called out sick.

Usually you’d be hesitant, but right now you’re desperate for a distraction. Something to take your mind off of the fear that gnaws at your gut.

But through the fog in your mind, you’ve forgotten one thing. In your old schedule, evening shifts were always your favorite. Primarily because they’re significantly slower than the daytime ones. Back then, the reprieve had been welcome, and you’d used the extra time to finish up assignments between tasks.

But now, every agonizing minute feels like an eternity.

And it’s an especially slow night tonight. From your office seat, you watch as the light rain showers outside turn into a torrential downpour. With a sigh, you resign yourself to the fact that no one will be visiting tonight. No one will want to leave their home in weather like this.

In the silence, you’re left alone with your thoughts. Again, you check your phone screen, hoping that sometime in the last three minutes since you last checked, there will be a notification to ease your worries.

But there’s nothing. The only thing that stares back at you is the time and the faint outline of your own reflection.

Frustrated, you set your phone back down. There has to be something you can do. You’re halfway convinced that you should just go through everyone on your class list and send emails until someone knows something when the sound of the chime that hangs above the front door to the center rings out against the silence.

Peering over your computer, you frown. Maybe Jake forgot something.

But as the person draws closer, a familiar shape begins to solidify. And it’s not your favorite coworker.

“Jungwon?” It’s him. You’re sure of it. Even if he looks more like a drowned cat than the boy you share a study room with.

Your brow furrows, a strange mix of confusion and relief coloring your features as you stand from your seat. A million emotions flicker through your mind, running too fast for you to fully keep up. Annoyance that he’s been avoiding you and your messages. Confusion as to why he’s here now. And above it all, cold, sharp relief that he seems to be okay.

But then you let your eyes scan him, falling from his dark hair to his soaked sneakers.

He’s absolutely drenched, down to the bone. Rain soaked hair falls over his eyes, stray drops streaking over his cheeks, his nose, his jaw. Dripping from his dark eyelashes. His clothes, usually baggy, cling a bit closer to his frame with the added weight of precipitation.

And his eyes. His sparkling, shining eyes full of starlight.

They’re frantic now, imbued with a panic you recognize all too well.

“Jungwon,” you repeat, letting your strides eat up the ground as you close the distance that separates you.

He’s shaking, you realize. His entire body trembles. Without thinking, without even really meaning to, your hands reach up to smooth some of his dark, wet hair away from his eyes. Your touch only intensifies his shivering.

He stands, motionless, dripping on the floor. He still can’t match your gaze, has yet to breathe a single word to you.

“You’re shaking.” You can’t help but state the obvious. Removing your hand from his temple, you reach for his hand. It’s cold, too. Raindrops melt against your skin as you touch your skin to his. Finding no resistance, you envelop his hand in your own.

Tugging slightly, you pull him into a nearby room, stopping only to grab a warm blanket. Guiding him gently into a chair, you drape it over his shoulders, let it cover his entire body beneath his neck.

Stepping away from him, you begin to brew a warm cup of tea. After another minute of silence, you hand it to him wordlessly.

You watch him take a tentative sip. His fingertips are red, evidence of the lingering chill in his bones, where he wraps them around the mug.

A million questions bubble in your throat. You breathe life into none of them. Silence settles around the both of you. Not entirely unpleasant, but brimming with something heavy.

You’re not sure how much time passes like that. It could be minutes, could be hours. Could be something not bound by the rules and restraints of physics at all.

But soon enough, the mug is empty. Jungwon sighs.

“I just,” he finally breathes, and you feel your heart clench in your chest. Seizing like his pain belongs to you. His voice is ragged, scraped raw. And so, so quiet. “I couldn’t be alone.” There’s a tremble in his fingertips when he adds, “Not tonight.”

“You’re not,” you assure him, shaking your head as you step closer. After a moment of consideration, you slide down into the seat next to him. “I promise you. You’re not alone.”

Jungwon closes his eyes, lets his head fall back against the wall. You watch as his throat works around a swallow.

“Okay,” he finally whispers.

You mean it. He’s not alone. You won’t let him be. Not for the remainder of your shift. Not when the early traces of dawn start to streak in through the windows, clouds parting in the morning sky as the rain releases its grip on the world.

Not as the sun starts to peek its head over the horizon, painting the sky in pastel watercolors and the promise of a new day.

Even then, it’s just the two of you. Jugwon’s head it still against the wall. His eyes are closed, but you know he’s not sleeping.

You don’t move until he does. Until he asks in a small voice if you’ll meet him at the coffee shop the two of you have started to become regular at.

Until you honor his request with a nod and a promise to see him again in an hour.

…..

The coffee shop is mostly empty this early in the morning. You watch, sipping absentmindedly on your iced coffee as a handful of patrons come and go, moving about their day blissfully unaware of the way your world feels a bit like it’s spinning on its axis.

But you feel distant from them, too.

The corner table you and Jungwon occupy feels private, secluded. A bit like the study room you’re also well acquainted with. A fitting place for revelations.

After a minute of baited silence, Jungwon begins all at once, coffee warm between his hands.

His match was supposed to be in a park, too.

It’s interesting – the research you’ve been reading on location based matches supports claims that soulmate bonds prefer open air, areas surrounded by nature. Ironic then, that both of yours should end like this.

Jungwon’s fate was set in stone later than yours. His match failed a year ago. Exactly a year ago. Today is an anniversary for him, a terrible reminder of your shared fate, shared shame.

It was supposed to be in a park. His favorite one. A place he went often, a place he loved. He hasn’t been back since.

Not when that eerie, cosmic, magnetic pull of destiny tugged at him until he was sitting on a bench, next to the rose garden that had just begun to bloom.

Not when his breath stopped the second she arrived, and he knew, he knew that it was her. He was looking at his destiny. His soulmate.

But she wasn’t looking at him.

Not when he stood up to greet her, to meet his future with a wide smile and a fresh bouquet of wildflowers just as the shiny, red numbers on his wrist drew closer and closer to zero.

Not when he watched, a distinct sort of dread building in the pit of his stomach, as someone emerged from the opposite side of the garden. He wasn’t carrying wildflowers, but he did hold a single, ruby red rose.

Not when time ticked on, revealing with every steady, agonizing second that this stranger had the same intentions, the same plan.

The same countdown. The same fate.

Not when he watched, motionless, helpless, as this stranger met her first.

Not when he watched in abject horror as both of their faces lit up with smiles. When she took the rose from him with care in her touch and love in her eyes.

Not when he looked down at his own wrist, vision blurring as tears began to gather in his eyes, as bright, shiny red faded to a dull, lifeless gray.

Not when he was a failure, a miscalculation. An unfortunate needle in a haystack of success stories. A glitch.

Not when he watched the woman that was meant to be the love of his life fall into the arms of another man and leave him standing there alone. Lonely. Forgotten.

Not when his fingers began to shake so bad that he couldn’t maintain the grip on the bouquet.

Wildflowers stained the earth beneath him in a garish array of too bright colors, and he knew, even then, that part of his heart would be left there to die, too.

Even now, in the seat across from you in the cafe, you can see the toll it takes on him.

So you strain for a fragment of twisted comfort in the only way you know how. A reassurance that this particular cruelty is not his alone. That somehow, in an unlikely twist of fate, your paths crossed.

Laying your left arm on the table between you, you slowly drag the bottom of your sleeve up. Only an inch. And only for a moment.

It’s not a lot. Against the tides of his own agony, it’s nothing at all. But for now, it’s enough.

…..

There’s an odd sort of balance, a distinct sense of comfort that comes from the simple act of understanding. Of being understood.

It’s not quite as easy, as lighthearted as it was before, but you and Jungwon are quick to fall into a new kind of simple rhythm with one another. One that saves space for the intricacies of your shared pain and shame while still keeping them at an arm’s distance.

It’s not solace. But it is something.

You’re off tiptoes and on solid ground. For the first time in your life, you don’t feel the need to constantly check the length of your left sleeve. At least, not when you’re with him. You don’t have to pretend that it doesn’t hurt to sit through hours of lectures on soulmate theory every week.

You don't have to explain any of it. Jungwon just gets it. He already knows.

But when you meet him for your next Thursday study session, two coffees in hand, Jungwon’s eyes aren’t sparkling with their usual stars. There’s something different there now. A kind of fire you haven’t seen from him before. One that glimmers with determination.

As you slide down into the seat across from him, he skips all pleasantries and says instead, “I think we should switch our project topic.”

It takes a concentrated effort not to knock over the coffee you set down in front of you for the second time in the span of weeks. “What?” At this point, your outline has long been finished and you’re well into writing your report. The thought of changing topics with barely a week left until the submission deadline is absolutely ludicrous. “Why?”

Jungwon doesn’t miss a beat. “I think we should do our project on glitches.”

You recoil as if you’ve been slapped.

Glitch. It’s a word people usually tiptoe around, whisper behind closed doors. Not meant for respectable society and certainly has no place in a university research paper.

You don’t even take a second to consider. “No.”

“What?” Now Jungwon is the one who looks surprised. Brow creasing, he presses. “Why? I mean, we’re both gl–”

“I said no.” You can’t hear him say it again. Features falling, Jungwon’s confusion begins to mingle with hurt at the sound of your sharp rejection. This might not be something that you’re willing to compromise, but your intention was never to hurt him, either.

Sighing, you explain, “Look, I’m just not comfortable with it. Besides, we’ve done so much work on this topic already. It doesn’t make sense to switch so close to the deadline.”

Only a fraction of what you’ve said seems to resonate. After a pregnant pause, Jungwon echoes. “Not… comfortable.” His tone is flat, as if your words are indecipherable to him.

He doesn’t continue, but you can tell that he has more to say. Can sense the words bubbling on his lips, begging to drip from his tongue. This is already a sensitive subject, and it’s made even more so by the way he tiptoes around it.

Across from him, your cross your arms across your chest. “I can tell that you have something else to see.” You don’t mean to be combative, don’t mean to start anything. But annoyance is starting to creep in. It’s dragging dread along with it, like an old friend, like a dangerous reminder.

“It’s nothing.” Jungwon shakes his head. “I guess I just don’t…” He trails off for a moment, deciding how best to tread treacherous territory. “How can you not be comfortable? I mean, you’re a glitch like me. Aren’t you curious at all? About why we glitched? If there’s anything we can do to fix it?”

And there it is. The lingering fear you’ve been working for two long years to overcome. The deep, aching insecurity that beneath it all, this is all your fault. That something is fundamentally wrong with you. “Fix me, you mean.”

Jungwon frowns. “I mean, I guess you could look at it that way, but I’m more curious about what kind of solutions there are.” He presses on, oblivious to the way every word sounds like nails on a chalkboard to you. The way every syllable pierces like a knife against your skin.

He’s not overflowing with hopelessness where he sits across from you. No, he’s enthusiastic as he tells you, “I did some research the other day, actually, and there’s this one scholar who thinks that all glitches happen for a reason. He thinks that you can still meet your soulmate and get your countdown to turn back to red if–”

“Stop.” Your voice is too loud, too sharp, too much, for the scant space of this small room. “Please,” you’re whispering now, but Jungwon flinches all the same. “Just stop.”

Jungwon’s eyebrows draw into a tight furrow. You thought he understood, but he doesn’t. He still doesn’t get it. He tells you as much. “I don’t understand why you’re so against it. I mean, we finally have a chance to look into why we gli–”

“I said, stop.” Jungwon looks as if you’ve pushed him. Dumped ice cold water over his head and left him out to dry.

But now he’s angry, too. There’s an accusation in his words when he says lowly, “I thought you would understand.”

And you do. You know how flowers wither when they’re left to die without any water. You know how love blossoms and blooms and dies all within the span of a single breath. You know what it feels like to carry a constant reminder of your most intimate pain seared into your skin, your soul.

There was a time when you wanted to be fixed, too. When you would have given anything to have a second chance at that day in the park two years ago. When you were sure if you could just do it again, you would walk away with a different fate. A red countdown. A soulmate.

But the longer you spent with your grief, the more you realized that it didn’t matter. The what ifs didn’t matter. The maybes didn’t matter. The almosts didn't’ matter.

You can’t reverse time. You can’t turn back the clock until your countdown glows red again. You don’t get a second chance at that afternoon in the park.

All you get is the life you have now. And you can grieve for what you’ve lost. Part of you always will. But if you spend the rest of your life lingering on it, obsessed with it, trying to fix it, then that’s all your life will be.

You won’t just lose a soulmate. You’ll lose yourself, too.

You’ll lose new friendships and favorite coworkers and every goal and dream you’ve ever had. You’ll lose quiet moments in secluded study rooms, trading smiles and sharing coffee. You’ll lose every shred of happiness in search of something that never really existed.

Sitting here now, across from Jungwon, you’re not just angry. You feel stupid, too. Ridiculous for ever thinking that maybe, just maybe, butterflies bloomed in the pit of his stomach when he looked at you, too.

That maybe, just maybe, when he matched your gaze, your eyes turned ordinary things into starlight, too.

But even with gray on his wrist and pain in his heart, the distance between the two of you has never felt wider.

Jungwon won’t even match your eye now. He aims for the heart instead. “You know, you’re the only person I’ve ever met who I thought would understand. Who knows what it’s like. To lose the only thing in life that really matters.” His voice is small, but it’s teeming with frustration, with misplaced anger. There’s an unmistakable fury in his eyes when he finally lets his gaze land on yours. But you know him now, even better than you thought. You see the pain just as clearly. The confusion, the hurt.

And where he expects to find an apology, or perhaps some sort of agreement, he’s met only with a rage to rival his own.

“Fuck you.” It’s barely decipherable under your breath, but he catches it, even if just barely.

“What?”

You double down. “I said, fuck you, Jungwon. How dare you. You think you’re the only one who’s ever been hurt, the only person that this stupid fucking system screwed over?” And now your anger has been let loose, the floodgates opened. It rises, ebbs and flows like waves against a shore. Weathering over all the sharp pieces and jagged edges that time hasn’t yet managed to erode. Spills over onto the table like his forgotten coffee from weeks ago.

“Why do you think I work at the support center? Why do you think you’ve never seen me in a short sleeve shirt?”

You’re angry and you’re hurting and you understand his pain. But it’s worse this time. You don’t know why his determination to fix his failed soulmate match stings like rejection. You can’t figure out why it burns in a way that’s all too reminiscent of that afternoon in the park two years ago.

You feel it all, under your skin like an itch you can’t scratch, an ache you can’t get rid of. You don’t know why he didn’t just stop when you asked him, why he won’t just listen to you.

“At least you get to wonder what might have happened.” You don’t mean to do it, to throw his hurt back in his face. To compare pain, to stack your scars against one another and measure them like there’s a winner in this game. “I met my soulmate. I met him and talked to him and fell in love with him and he still didn’t want me. It doesn’t matter what some scholar says. You can’t fucking fix that.”

You’re standing before you know it, heading to the door before you mean to. But you can’t stay here, can’t watch him look at you like that. Not when every word that passes between you opens wounds you’ve spent ages trying to clean.

Not when you know that none of it, even the parts you’d hoped you’d remember fondly, were ever done intentionally. He didn’t mean to hurt you. Didn’t mean to give you butterflies or look at you with starlight in his eyes, and that only makes it worse.

You’re already beneath the doorframe when you find it in yourself to add, “You’re hurting and you’re lonely and I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. You don’t deserve that pain, and you never will. But I refuse to do this again, to spend the rest of my life thinking there’s something wrong with me. That it’s my fault, that I can fix everything, fix myself, if I just try hard enough. My matched glitched.” You still can’t quite say the word without flinching. “I’m a glitch. But I refuse to let that be the only thing I am.”

When the door shuts behind you, it echoes, even in the crowded hallway.

Your footsteps feel too heavy as they eat up the ground between you and the front door of the library. The late autumn air feels too cold as you walk back to your dorm, enveloped in the quiet of the evening, mind screaming with misplaced rage.

The silence of your dorm room is too loud as you sit alone in it.

And the mark on your wrist is too gray, no matter how you look at it.

…..

Jungwon is antsy.

Even with the space of a day between him and your argument, he’s brimming with a sort of uncontained energy that will only spell trouble if he doesn’t find a way to channel it.

Taekwondo practice helps, albeit only slightly. Physically, at least, it grounds him. There’s a solace to be found in the repetitive motion of his well aimed kicks.

He welcomes the familiar ache in his muscles like an old friend, sweat building on his brow as he lets the calm, flowing energy guide his powerful movements.

But even after two hours on the mat and a long, overly warm shower, Jungwon’s thoughts are still spinning in circles, still doing cartwheels through his mind. He needs to talk, needs to process everything that’s happened, everything that he’s feeling.

But save for one person, he’s not sure who to go to.

It’s then, the last member of his team still towelling off in the locker room, that he realizes that under any other circumstance, the first person that he would want to reach out to, to spill his heart and guts and soul out to, is you.

It’s been weeks, a handful of days, a smattering of hours, since you became a name in his mind. A person with an identity other than the pretty girl that sits in the sixth row of the lecture hall, and yet.

And yet.

Jungwon is suddenly overcome with the urge to reach for his phone, to send a message, make a phone call. His better judgement stops him before he can.

Mostly because he has no idea what he would say. An apology is in order, surely. He still sees the look on your face against the backs of his eyelids. The way pain etched itself into your features, the way your shoulders never quite relaxed after he suggested the topic change on your project.

He’s not sure if this is even something that can be remedied with words, but he is absolutely certain that he never wants to see that look on your face again.

So an apology it is, then. But for what, exactly?

If he’s honest with himself, he still doesn’t fully understand.

He let his anger, his frustration, his pain get the best of him, yes, but it was more than that. He’s not sure why you seemed so personally affected by the idea of exploring research around soulmate glitches. Why that word seemed to eat at you so much.

So he lets his confusion carry him to the only place where he thinks he just might find an answer.

The Student Support Center looks different in the daytime. Jungwon still feels that nagging sense of discomfort as he forces his feet through the front door.

His shame feels most prominent here, in a place where admitting that he needs help still feels like weakness to him.

Swallowing his pride, he forces his footsteps forward. The desk he found you at a handful of night ago is empty. But the one next to it is occupied with another student, a boy. One that looks a couple of years older than you, if he had to guess.

He smiles when he sees Jungwon, offering a generic greeting before he takes another look at him.

Jake, he thinks it must be, if your descriptions are anything to go by. Another person that Jungwon has begun to become familiar with in the past few weeks, albeit only by your secondhand account.

And you must have done the same for him, because Jake is quick to mask his shock with something careful, guarded.

“Hi,” he repeats, standing from her seat. “I’m Jake.” Looking him over once more, something akin to a sigh escapes his lips. “You must be Jungwon.”

Jake, as it turns out, is surprisingly easy to talk to. He understands why you like him so much.

In a matter of minutes, a fairly abridged version of your last library session has been reconstructed, laid bare in front of eyes that know you best.

Jake is silent for a moment, turning over thoughts in his mind before he finally says, “It’s not my story to tell.” Jungwon figured as much. “But I think she would, if you asked.”

Jungwon nods. It’s permission. From an indirect source, maybe, but hope flutters through his chest all the same. He has a goal now, something to work towards. Something that he hopes will fix whatever has shattered between the two of you.

There’s a brief pause before Jake speaks again. “What I can say is that she’s done a lot of work to move on. To find meaning in her life outside of the number on her wrist. To stop feeling incomplete, like a burden, like a problem to be solved.”

And I threw those fears back in her face, Jungwon realizes, something twisting unpleasantly in his gut.

The despair must play out on his features, because Jake is gentle when he says, “I won’t pretend to know what it’s like, but I do know how it feels to grieve for what could have been. It’s easier, sometimes, I think, to let that consume you. To spend your life trying to get as close to that lost future as you can, even though you know it will never be quite right. Even though you know you’re chasing ghosts.”

Jake folds his hands across his lap, lacing his fingers together.

“She made the decision to let those ghosts rest, to let that part of her life go. To find something else worth living for instead. For the small moments, maybe. For joy, for love. All those things that she still gets to feel.”

That you still get to feel. Jake doesn’t say it, but Jungwon hears it all the same.

“Those things that nothing, not even fate, gets to take away.”

Jungwon glances down at his wrist. It’s covered, but he can feel the ever present weight of it. Of the gray mark that he knows, deep down, will never fade. Will never change.

And for the first time in a long time, that truth doesn’t feel quite so heavy.

“I…” Jungwon isn’t sure how to wrap his gratitude in words. “Thank you.” For telling him. For helping you. For being here. “For all of it.”

“Of course.” Jake smiles. Lets his fingers fall to his sides as he stands, brushing invisible dust from his lap. “Joy is even better when it’s shared, no?”

Joy is even better when it’s shared.

For the first time in a long time, Jungwon smiles. A real smile, a face-splitting, toothy, uncontrollably wide smile. One that hurts his cheeks and reaches all the way to his eyes.

It’s still there when he’s walking back to his dorm.

It’s still there when he sits down at his desk, reaching for his computer and turning on the last playlist he was listening to earlier, just for something to fill the silence.

After a handful of moments, a familiar melody begins to lilt through his speaker.

Clair de Lune. It’s a tune he would know anywhere. It reminds him of moonlight, of starlight, and everything in between. It reminds him of long study sessions and stolen glances and tentative whispers.

It makes him smile even harder.

Looking at the computer in front of him, Jungwon thinks fate just might be a tangible thing.

He feels it in the back of his throat first and then the base of his nose. The telltale stinging sensations that always comes at the first sign of tears.

He lets it. Welcomes it. Allows them to fall.

Alone in his room, hard, long sobs wrack his entire body and leave him gasping for air. Sorrow and grief and anger and joy all tangled together in one.

Because Jungwon is done mourning himself, the ghost of a life that has haunted him for the last year. The future that was never his to begin with. The weight of possibilities that time cannot undo, that sheer will alone cannot change.

Joy is even better when it’s shared.

And he thinks he’ll start with himself.

…..

The knock on your front door is unexpected. And it comes just too late at night for you to feel comfortable opening it without a second thought. Footsteps padding as silently as possible towards the entrance to your dorm, you run through the short list of people you think could possibly be knocking at your door at this hour and come up blank.

Against your better judgement, you undo the latch, opening the door slowly as if that will be enough to deter any unwanted visitors.

Thankfully, the sliver of space doesn’t reveal a threat. But it does have your brow furrowing in confusion.

“Jungwon? How did you–”

Explanations for how he found your address are not at the top of his priority list. “I’m sorry,” he breathes, words tumbling out all at once. “I don’t…” A pained expression crosses his features. “I’m not good with words, and I don’t always know what the best thing to say is, but I’m sorry. I never should have said those things about you, about us. I – we’re not glitches.” He pauses, frowning. “I mean, we are, but that’s okay. We’re okay. There’s nothing to fix, and I’m sorry that I made it sound like I think otherwise.”

He trails off again, jaw working as he swallows the lump in his throat. “I… You have to know that I think the absolute world of you, ___. I would never, ever want to say or do something that makes you think otherw–oof.”

Jungwon’s words die with the sudden impact of your head against his chest, arms wrapping tight around his torso. Shock renders him immobile, just for a moment, before he’s melting into your touch. Returning your embrace as his arms twine around your back, fingers settling against your spine.

It’s all there, wrapped up in this moment. A solid foundation. A warm place to land. Things that futures can be built upon. Things that can breathe life into possibilities, into almosts, into maybes.

“Thank you,” you whisper, and it’s lost somewhere against the skin of his neck.

“For what?”

“For everything you said.” You melt a little further into him, and Jungwon hopes that he never has to move. “For being here.”

You mean it. He knows it.

He lets his cheek rest against the crown of your head. You feel the movement of his jaw when he tells you, “It’s the only place I wanted to be.”

He means it. You know it.

…..

epilogue.

“Where are you taking me?”

“You know,” Jungwon rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile on his lips, too. “The more you keep asking that question, the less inclined I am to answer it.”

Huffing, you argue. “We’ve been walking for thirty minutes.” With still no destination in sight, mind you. “Don’t I deserve some kind of explanation.”

“That’s what the coffee was for.” Jungwon’s smile turns into a grin, one of those real ones that lights up his eyes. That has starlight reflecting in them. One that has you returning a smile o your own, despite your complaints. “To distract you from the physical labor.”

“Well, we can’t all be on the taekwondo team.”

Jungown just rolls his eyes again. “We’re almost there. I promise.”

And despite it all, you believe him. Because it’s been six months since you were first assigned as project partners and nearly two since your shared class ended. And he’s still here. Still a permanent fixture in your life. Still responsible for so many moments you’ve come to look forward to, so many memories you know you’ll cherish forever.

Because despite the gray numbers on your wrists, you’re both dressed for the activity. It’s nearing winter now, but it’s unseasonably warm. With the physical exertion included, it’s weather that calls for short sleeves.

Because there’s no one else you’d walk thirty minutes towards an undisclosed location for.

Because there’s no one else that understands you the way he does, not just from shared circumstances, but also as a result of effort. Of honest conversations and the genuine desire to listen. To learn you. To know you like the back of his hand.

Because to him, you’re just you. A person capable of joy and anger and grief and love and all of the beautiful, wonderful, messy things that comes with being a human. You’re not a failure, not something to fix. Your identity isn’t constrained to the gray mark on your wrist.

Because you think you might love him for it.

Because you know that you do.

And when you finally arrive at the small neighborhood park ten minutes later, the only thing you’re thinking about is how beautiful the lake looks bathed in the glow of afternoon sunlight.

Later, sprawled on a picnic blanket underneath the shade of an old sycamore tree, overlooking that same lake, you’ll turn to him and whisper some nonsense about recent studies claiming that soulmates often find each other surrounded by nature. Particularly in the presence of a body of water.

Jungwon will roll his eyes, will brush a strand of hair away from your forehead while he tells you that he doesn’t care, that it doesn’t matter, that it’s all a bunch of nonsense anyway.

His smile will be soft, as he hands you the small makeshift bouquet of wildflowers you hadn’t noticed him collecting on your journey here. You’ll tuck your favorite one behind your ear before you lean back against his chest.

And it will feel a little bit like coming home, like resting after a long day, like basking in the first rays of sunshine as winter finally releases its grip on the world and blooms into a glorious spring when he intertwines his fingers with yours and whispers against the shell of your ear that he thinks you’re beautiful.

Fate is a funny thing, you’ll think as his breath tickles the skin of your neck, sends a shiver down the length of your spine.

And no matter how many nights we’ve spent berating it, cursing it, resenting it, I’ll always be glad that it has led us to this. Or maybe, you’ll wonder as he presses a gentle kiss to the curve of your cheekbone, the space between your eyebrows.

Maybe we led it. Grabbed fate by the collar and forced it to bend to our whims like that masters of destiny we are.

Whatever it may be, I’m glad that it brought me here.

To joy. To love.

And most of all, to you.

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

note: Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed. As always, I love hearing your thoughts. All the best ♡♡

#jungwon fanfiction #jungwon fanfic #jungwon x you #jungwon x reader #jungwon angst #jungwon fluff #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen x reader #enhypen x you #enhypen fanfic #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff

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bueckers · 5 months ago

Text

UNFINISHED BUSINESS ━━━ paige bueckers

i don’t wanna fight, but you got the wrong vibes. let me get you right, it’s how i apologize. ✶

synopsis: she broke it off, but has since had a hard time leaving her alone… especially when having to see her in person.

pairing: paige bueckers x fem oc

warnings: smut with plot, p eating ( p is literally EATING ), fingering, thigh riding, and slight angst.

notes: this is ridiculously long. in honor of her fit here, enjoy.. i loved writing this almost as much as i love the song lol. lmk if i should make a part two or maybe a series!

Nervous, excited, and borderline bald from tugging at my hair—these were all the things I had felt the moment I stepped into the WNBA 2024 All-Star Game.

I would be seeing Paige tonight. Paige would be seeing me tonight. Paige knew I knew she would be seeing me tonight, and I knew Paige knew she would be seeing me tonight.

When Paige and I first started hooking up, it was never supposed to be anything serious. She was sidelined with a torn ACL, and I knew she was in a dark place, struggling with everything that came with being forced off the court. I think that’s why it started, honestly. She needed an escape, something to make her forget for a little while, and I was there.

Paige and I have known of each other for years, though. We both came up in the basketball world at the same time, our names being tossed around in the same circles since high school. We’d cross paths at AAU tournaments and national showcases, always on different teams but always aware of each other.

Back then, our support for each other was more from a distance, and it wasn’t until college that things started to shift. We crossed paths more often, whether it was at games, media events. The rivalry between our schools added a new layer to our interactions, but by then, we had leveled up from distant competitors to something more like casual friends.

Those moments were what led us to where we eventually ended up. The more we talked, the more we realized how much we actually had in common—our experiences, our struggles, the pressure to perform, and the constant scrutiny. It felt natural, easy, to let our guard down with each other, which is why when her injury happened and everything else in her life felt like it was falling apart, I wasn’t surprised when we fell into it.

We had an agreement. Not one that was ever talked about soberly, but the way it happened just fell into place so perfectly that we didn’t need to. We’d meet up when it was needed, no commitments, no expectations. Just two people finding comfort in each other, filling a void that we couldn’t fill on our own. It was convenient, effortless, and most importantly, it worked for the both of us. I guess I figured if I kept things casual, I wouldn’t get caught up in something messy. I didn’t want to be the one to complicate her life even more.

We’d cross paths after games, during off-season, or whenever our schedules aligned, slipping into each other’s lives for a few hours at a time. She knew how to keep me at arm’s length, just close enough to keep me coming back but far enough to never let me in too deep. She knew exactly how to make me feel needed without ever giving too much of herself away. It was maddening, really—how she could be so vulnerable one minute, showing me sides of herself that no one else got to see, and then switch off just as quickly.

The more we hooked up, the more I started to realize I was getting too close. I could see it in the way she’d look at me sometimes, like she knew I was starting to care too much. And the worst part was, she didn’t seem to mind pushing me right to that edge. She’d say something that made my heart race, or she’d touch me in a way that felt like it meant something, only to pull back and remind me of our status. She was always in control, always the one with the upper hand, and I hated how easily I let her have it.

And then it was all done. She cut things off with a cold finality that I still can’t even believe. No explanation, no soft letdown—just a sudden, brutal end. It was like she knew exactly when I’d reached that point and she didn’t hesitate to remind me that it was never supposed to mean anything at all.

“I’m gonna go grab some snacks, alright? Try to look a little more happy for the jumbotron,” JuJu teases, getting up from her seat. I gasped, barely having any time to process her insult as she scooted between me to get to the stadium stairs.

“Very funny,” I muttered, watching her walk away.

Alone now, I focused on the game, doing an extremely good job at hiding the gnawing in my chest. I’d say I have a good poker face, but Paige would agree to disagree. My phone buzzed, jolting me from my thoughts. It was her and she’d finally found you. She was on the other side of the arena, clearly getting a kick out of having you in her view.

you mad at me or just deep in thought?

I rolled my eyes back to the deep depths of hell. Another text from her.

you look good tonight

you too. how’s the game?

As soon as I hit send, I regret it. I should have ignored her. I should have said something snarky.

Her reply comes almost immediately.

could be better. thought about coming over

what stopped you?

You watched her text bubble practically stutter, making you quirk an eyebrow.

juju. i didn’t wanna make it awkward.

lol. okay.

actually, scratch that. leave w me.

I shifted in my seat, my hands suddenly clutching my phone a little tighter.

paige, no.

why not?

I shut off my phone just in time for JuJu’s return, watching as she squeezed through mounds of people to get back to me. She handed me a cherry slurpee, which would however be gone in ten minutes.

“Thanks, sugar,” you teased her, wrapping your lips around the straw and taking a nice, long sip. She shook her head at me as she focused on the game again, nachos in hand. Ping.

Tell her don’t get too comfortable 😂

I could even feel her eyes boring into me from the other side. I could picture the stupid smirk or gummy smile she’d have. I turned my ringer off and silenced Paige’s notifications before slipping my phone into my back pocket and reverting my attention back to the game. It’s almost over.

Fast forward to the final buzzer, and Juju and I made our way down to the court, weaving through the crowd of fans and players. I always loved the energy in a room of women’s basketball players and fans— there were always a million things going on at once. As we reached the court, we spotted Caitlin, who was already deep in conversation with a couple of other players.

“Great game, Cait,” I said, pulling her into a light hug. “Guess nobody busts your butt as good as SC, huh?” I pulled back first, resting my hands on my hips. I could say I’ve known Caitlin as long as I have Paige, but Cait doesn’t know me the way Paige does.

Caitlin laughed, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. “Yeah, yeah, Miss Championship. but don’t get too cocky now.”

Juju laughed alongside me, adding a quick comment about how USC would give her a run for her money next time. The conversation flowed easily, a mix of post-game analysis and friendly banter. I scanned the court for a brief moment, knowing exactly who I was looking for.

Sure enough, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Flau’jae and Paige making their way over. I braced myself, knowing the cameras would be all over this reunion, and the media would have a field day with it. Paige looked as confident as ever, her stride always one that grabbed attention.

“Hey, y’all,” Paige said, her voice smooth, effortless. She exchanged hugs and high-fives with everyone, her presence commanding attention as always. When she reached me, she didn’t hesitate to pull me into a hug, her hand resting on my hip before snaking around to my lower back.

And then I felt it—her hand slipping lower, fingers grazing the fabric of my mini skirt. I could hear the smirk in her voice as she leaned in, her breath warm against my ear. “Good to see you.” Just close enough to keep me coming back.

I pulled back slightly, meeting her eyes. There was that smirk. My heart was pounding, a mix of frustration and something else I didn’t want to acknowledge. “You too,” I managed, keeping my tone as neutral as possible, pulling back with a tight-lipped grin that looked friendly enough to anyone who didn’t know what was going on. Which was everyone.

The group continued chatting, oblivious, obviously. You’d found out the one thing you hated about being around Paige was the overwhelming current of being the only ones in the room who knew how each other was feeling. Paige, ever the actor, kept up her usual easygoing demeanor, but I could feel her gaze on me, like she was waiting for something. I tried to focus on the conversation, but it was impossible with her so close, the warmth of her hand still lingering on my skin.

When the small talk finally wound down, and the others started drifting away, Paige moved closer, her eyes locked on mine. She leaned in again, her voice low, almost a whisper. “C’mon. Meet me,” she coaxed, her breath warm against my ear. Her fingers brushed lightly against my side, tracing a path.

I hesitated, the resolve I’d built up over the past hour crumbling under the weight of her presence. She was testing me, pushing every button she knew she could. And damn it, it was working.

I finally nodded, barely audible. “Okay.”

It was all she needed. A single, one-word confirmation that I wanted her as bad as she does. She took my phone out of my pocket for me, placing it my hand as she said her goodbyes to everyone else, leaving me there. I suppose it was smarter for her to do that anyway.

Shortly after Paige’s departure, I made my way out as well. JuJu wasn’t a tough barrier to get past. I told her to finish up her conversations, and that I’d see her back at the hotel. I wasn’t quite show how long my excuse would suffice, but I hoped she’d find her way to the bar or something after.

I don’t know why I listened. Watched my fingers click on her contact and give the driver her hotel’s address. It was like I was compelled from the moment she’d touched me, and to be honest, I don’t think I’d be surprised if that was the case.

The Uber ride felt interminable, each passing moment only heightening the anticipation and anxiety. I could barely focus on the city lights flashing by outside, my mind consumed with the impending confrontation and whatever would follow.

Finally, I was able to make my way to her room, feeling the cool air of the hallway against my skin as I knocked on the door. When Paige answered, her smile was as infuriatingly charming as ever, and she pulled me inside with a warm, yet testing glint in her eye.

The moment the door clicked shut behind us, Paige’s demeanor shifted. Before I could voice any protest, her lips were on mine, kissing me with an urgency that made my heart race. I barely had time to process the sudden change before she deepened the kiss, her hands roaming possessively over my back.

I tried to pull away, my mind still reeling from the fact that I was even here, but her grip tightened, pulling me closer. “Paige,” I murmured against her lips, trying to catch my breath. “We need to talk—” but as much as I tried to voice it, I knew that isn’t what we both really planned to do.

She silenced me with another intense kiss, her fingers tangling in my hair, guiding my head to tilt for better access. Her touch was relentless, her body pressing against mine with all the need in her body. “I don’t wanna fight,” she whispered between kisses, her breath hot and heavy against my skin. “Jus’ wanna be close to you.” She breathed in my scent, and I melted.

The words were almost lost in the heated moment, but I could feel the sincerity. She pulled back just enough to look into my eyes, her gaze smoldering with an intensity that made me rethink actually standing on business. She waited, trying to see if I was really against this. I licked my lips, glancing at hers.

I didn’t stand a chance.

Her lips found mine again, and the world narrowed to the press of our bodies. Our kisses were feverish and desperate, each touch holding some type of meaning. Paige’s hands roamed over my skin like there were so many options in a candy store and she couldn’t pick just one. In this case, one spot to focus on. Her mouth trailed down my collarbone, leaving a path of pinkish marks.

Our bodies were pressed together and refusing to let go. Paige guided me towards the bed, her hands never leaving my body, her lips continuing their assault on my skin. When she finally lowered me onto the bed, I was needy and breathless and finally feeling a little more realistic.

“P, I’m still mad,” I tried to insist, though my voice wavered as I watched her begin to undress. She unzipped her Nike vest slowly, the sound of the fabric sliding down her body making my pulse quicken. It fell to the floor, and she ripped off her shirt with a sudden, breathless intensity, revealing her sports bra. The sight of her, partially unclothed and vulnerable in front of me again left me speechless.

“I know,” she murmurs, her head slightly tilted as she looked at me all-knowingly. “And ima’ make it up to you, I promise. Just let me get you right.” Her fingers trailed up my bare legs, eliciting a small gasp from my lips. She tugged at the hem of my skirt, pulling the fabric down and grabbing my panties in the process. I watched her do it, in utter disbelief that this was how I was spending my night.

Her fingers graze teasingly against my kneecaps, sending shivers through my body, before she gently but firmly peels my legs apart. I look down at her. “You’re just trying to distract me,” I say, but there’s no heat behind the words.

Paige smirks, a knowing look in her eyes as she falls to her knees, her hands sliding over my thighs. “Maybe,” she admits, her voice dropping into a low, sultry tone as she tucks her lip between her teeth. “But you can’t say you don’t want this too.”

She’s right, and we both know it. The way she’s touching me, the way her eyes are locked onto mine with that look. The same one that knows she’s getting her way tonight. My worries seem so distant now, nothing more than a whisper of irritation in the back of my mind, easily drowned out by the way Paige’s hands are moving.

I begin to say something, but she easily cuts me off by diving into me with no warning, immediately humming against my cunt in satisfaction. Her eyebrows were furrowed as her tongue made some deliberate strokes, seemingly in disbelief of the way I tasted. She looks up at me as she delves in, a sight beautiful enough for the Louvre but way too sinful.

She says something I can’t hear, but I do catch a, “Can’t leave you alone, ever. Fuck.”

“Yeah?” I muster out, my breath a careless whisper.

Paige smiles against me, loving the cocky tone in my voice as she responds with a fast nod, the movement making me gasp. “Yeah.”

From there, every moan and gasp from me seems to fuel her desire, making her work even harder to drive me wild. Her hands grip my hips firmly, keeping me in place as her mouth and tongue continue their relentless assault. In the haze of ecstasy, all I can focus on is the feeling of her between my legs, making good on her promise to get me right, leaving me utterly consumed by the pleasure she’s giving.

I come, loud enough that the neighbors might know Paige’s name, but she keeps going. It becomes too much, enough for me to whine and pull away, scooting a little bit higher on the bed. She isn’t going for it, though, and immediately brings me back to her mouth, wrapping my legs in her thick arms.

“Where you tryna’ go, princess?” she teases. The sensation of her mouth and fingers on me is so intoxicating that I can barely respond before she pulls back entirely, rising to her feet. She begins to peel off her pants, her movements slow, leaving me breathless and frustrated.

“Seriously?” I complain.

“Chill,” she responds with a husky chuckle, towering over me in the sexiest way explainable. It’s like she contemplates something in her head for a moment, leaving me dripping wet and needy before her.

Finally, Paige steps closer, her hands sliding down to her sports bra. With a teasing glance, she pulls it off, revealing her bare chest. My eyes widen as I take in her form, unable to tear my gaze away. She then sits back down, positioning herself comfortably on the edge of the bed. “Want you to get on my thigh, baby, m’kay?” And there was no room for argument.

I crawl toward her, a mixture of urgency and anticipation in my movements. Once I’m seated on her thigh, I start to ride it slowly, the friction sending waves of pleasure through me. I truly can’t believe we haven’t done this before. The way she flexes, the way I can feel her muscle.. it’s all too much.

I roll my head back, needing more. My hands find Paige’s boxers, slipping into them with ease as she watches, her eyes moving more than her actual head. My fingers find their way to her core, exploring.

Paige’s breath hitches, her fingers gripping my hip as she watches me intently. “You like that, don’t you?” she breathes, her voice filled with a mixture of desire and all things Paige. “You’ve got me exactly where you want me.”

I stare at her. My body and arm moving repeatedly, my hair a bit puffy at this rate, and a panting mess. Paige raises her thumb to my plump and parted lips, slipping it in. I moan out, forced to suck around it as I squeeze my eyes shut.

Paige is in a trance, completely focused on the warmth around her thumb and how your small fingers disappear into her. “So, so, so good. Love seeing you above me, baby. So pretty.” I couldn’t understand how she could say things like these, and happen to not mean them, but it was the last thing on my mind.

“Mfmfmm, I’m gonna come. Again.”

Paige’s response is a series of breathy moans, her hands gripping my hips tightly as she keeps me pressed down, every thrust and touch pushing us both closer to the edge.

As she finally shudders, her release crashes over her like a tidal wave, her body trembling violently. The sensation of her coming around my fingers makes my own climax come shortly after. I cry out, my own pleasure peaking as I grind against her, my fingers thrusting in and out.

Our combined releases feel explosive, a storm of heat and passion that has us both gasping and moaning. I feel her tremors against my fingers as I continue to move, riding out the last waves of ecstasy before finally collapsing against her, both of us spent and tangled together in a sated, sweaty mess.

I think I’ll regret this in the morning. But right now? I’ve never been happier.

#bueckers’ works 🍒#paige bueckers #paige bueckers fanfiction #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers headcannons #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x reader #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #lgbtq #Spotify

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rosenclaws · 4 months ago

Note

Hi! 👋

I saw your requests were open and I was wondering if I could submit a request?

The reader is a shy artist who is a friend of Wades. She carries a sketchbook with her everywhere to sketch new pieces, but she doesn't show her work to people unless it's to Wade.

She and Worst!Logan become friends and slowly develop feelings for one another, but they won't say anything to each other because they think that the other wouldn't want them. Until Worst!Logan finds her sketchbook by accident and finds the book is filled with sketches of him. Worst!Logan confronts her about it, but she's a stuttering mess, and they end up confessing to each other. And please make it extra fluffy. Maybe throw in a kiss or a makeout session. Your choice lol.

Thank you and have a good day! 😊

Hidden Feelings and Hidden Sketches || Worst!Logan Howlett x Reader

warnings: drinking, swearing, wade making suggestive comments, make out sesh towards the end, reader gets drunk and logan helps her out. Logan also calls the reader sketch. It got kinda suggestive at the end I apologize sldfjka

a/n: Hi!! This idea is adorable omg I love it, I hope it was fluffy enough for you I have to admit I'm not great at writing pure fluff. I also hope wade is funny because I am not funny so its hard to write his dialogue sometimes. I also altered the plot a little so i hope its okay

You never quite understood how you and Wade became friends. He was possibly the biggest extrovert you have ever met and you were the exact opposite. He saw you once at his favorite diner with your sketchbook and he jumped into the seat across from you.

Yapping on about your art and if you drew often and that he once tried to paint but the class didn't appreciate his art and asking if you'd paint him naked as a present for his girlfriend. Which you declined very quickly.

He wouldn't leave you alone, talking and asking you all sorts of things. You getting a few words in and him covering the other 98% of the conversation. He left with the promise of seeing you again and disappeared before you could say anything else.

It was an odd experience that's for sure but you liked Wade. Sure enough he kept coming back and a friendship had blossomed. He invited you over to dinner multiple times but you always declined, choosing to meet at the diner instead.

Slowly he got you out of your shell around him. Cracking jokes and sometimes putting him in his place when he went a little too far. You showed him your sketchbook after a while and he gushed over your drawings. Begging you to draw him at his best angles and you would sometimes give in.

When he disappeared for a while you got worried, that is until he showed up with a new dog and a very handsome new friend. You couldn't take your eyes off of him. Wade spotted you and waved but you didn't even notice.

"I know right, he's like a tall glass of rage filled water." Wade sighs as he sits across from you.

"I uh what?" You hug your sketchbook close to your chest as you rip your eyes away from Wade's new friend.

"Oh don't pretend like you weren't eye fucking him the second he walked in here, not that I blame you." Your eyes widen as you start to stutter. Your face heating up as you stare at the pancakes in front of you instead. A loud grunt catches your attention. You can barely meet his eyes as your brain is too busy being embarrassed by what Wade had said.

"You can sit on my lap angel cakes." Wade pats his leg but gets shoved to the side as his new friend sits down across from you.

"Logan this is my friend, be a good kitty and play nice." Logan rolls his eyes and chooses to ignore Wade. He does look at you though, burning a whole through your skull.

"Hi Logan," You say shyly.

"Hi." A few beats of silence pass until Wade breaks it as usual.

"Well aren't you two the life of the party, if you excuse me I have to go relieve myself." Wade stands up and instead of asking Logan to move, starts to climb over the man.

"What the fuck?!" Logan hisses as he grabs Wades shirt and tosses him to the ground. You can't help the laugh that escapes your mouth as your friend flops to the ground.

"So rude." Wade shakes his head and heads off to the bathroom. Silence falls once again as you awkwardly push around the pancakes on your plate.

"What's that?" Logan asks, nodding towards your sketchbook. You grab your book and shove it into your bag.

"Nothing! It's uh, just a sketchbook it's nothing don't worry about it." Logan raises an eyebrow as you panic in front of him.

As if you couldn't feel more embarrassed. You debate on waiting for wade or just leaving to save yourself but Logan makes the choice for you.

"You don't have to stay, not holding you hostage." He sips his coffee as you let out a shaky laugh.

"Not much of a talker." You play with your fork as you look up at Logan. He's much more handsome up close.

"Neither am I." He offers a small half smile and you return it. He's still incredibly intimidating but maybe you can stick it out a little longer. Logan's food comes and the two of you eat in a comfortable silence and when you're done you work up the courage if he'll be here tomorrow. He holds the door open for you as you step outside.

You clutch tightly onto the strap of your bag as you wait for his answer. He lights a cigar and you try and suppress your smile when he says he will be. As you part ways you realize that Wade never did come back from the bathroom.

That sneaky bastard.

-on

The diner uh, meetings as you called them, with Logan were amazing. His grumpy exterior was hard to crack but eventually the two of you started to become friends. Being with Logan started to become your favorite parts of the week. He was more than the tough guy persona he put on. What surprised you the most is that he seemed interested in you too. Well you know as friends.

Logan could appreciate someone who liked the quiet. He never pushed you out of your comfort zone, never made you feel uncomfortable. He was just Logan. Call it what you want but it was only a matter of time before you fell head over heels for that man. Not that you'd ever tell him.

How could you?

He's a superhero. He's gorgeous and grumpy and funny and so much more. All you do is draw silly pictures. So for now you settle on friends. Even if he makes your stomach turn with ever smile. Even if his laugh is the best thing you've ever heard. Friends. That's good enough for now.

"Wade Wilson I am going to kill you!" You say angrily.

He had texted you asking you to meet him for coffee and you had agreed solely because you never got the chance to scold him for his little dine and dash.

"Leaving me alone with a stranger!" You slap his hand as he tries to reach for your pastry.

"Ow! That was so five months ago! Anyways I was just trying to help. You know, relieve the sexual tension." You gasp as he makes a very lewd gesture with his hands.

"Besides, you and Logi bear are spending a lot of time together for just being friends huh Boo-Boo." Before you can stop him he reaches for your sketchbook. Keeping it just out of reach as he flips through the pages.

"Give it back!" You plead as you reach across the table.

"Oh. My. God. How come you never draw me this sexy?" He shows you the pages and you fall back into your seat in defeat.

You know what's in there and now Wade does too. Pages and pages of sketches of Logan. You feel like a stalker. It's not your fault! Ever since you met him he's all you can think about. All you can draw.

"Please give it back." You beg but he refuses.

"You'll get it back after you admit to Logan how you feel."

"What!" Your jaw drops as you make another lunge for your book.

"I am a very impatient man and I'm not about to wait another thousand words for the two of you to fuck." He stands up and tucks the book down his pants.

"Ew really?" You groan as you let your face fall into your hands.

"I'm having a get together and you're invited. Logan will be there it's the perfect opportunity." You feel like throwing up at the idea of talking to Logan about any of this.

Maybe you could just steal it back tonight. Or maybe you could never show your face to anyone ever again. Yah the second option sounds better. If only it was that simple. You waited for many anxiety filled hours, the only thing on your mind is getting your damn book back. You knock on the door and it swings open with Wade standing there, a stupid smile on his face.

"Honey badger at 4 o'clock." He hands you a drink and pushes you right towards him. You shoo him away, taking a deep breath and head towards Logan.

"Hi Logan," You say nervously.

"Didn't think these were really your thing." He says with a smile. You laugh nervously and nod your head.

"Yeah well...I thought he'd finally stop asking if I came to one of these things." You joke. Logan snorts and offers you the seat next to him.

"Good luck with that." You sit next to him and swirl around the ice in your drink.

If you're going to tell him then you're going to need a lot of help. Logan's eyes widen as you down your drink in one go, making a face before asking for another one. He's never seen you at a party, let alone drink.

"Why don't you take it easy there sketch."

"It's a party right, why not have a little fun." Logan keeps an eye on you as you drink and drink. As the night passes on he realizes that you might have had a little too much. You can barely get a sentence out by the time the party's over.

"Hi Logii!" Your arms slink around his neck as you stumble into him.

"Come on, let me take you home." He chuckles as he helps you to the door.

"Nooo, I needa get my uh..." You stop and think for a moment.

"My uhhh" Logan hums as he helps you to your apartment. You stay close to Logan as you walk through the night. He's just so warm and he smells so good.

"Got your keys?" You pat around for them and frown. Logan reaches into your bag and pulls them out.

"Right here." He unlocks your door and helps you to your bed. You sigh as your head hits your pillow.

"Oh! my sketchbook. Wade has my sketchbook." You say with a yawn.

"I'll get it back tomorrow, now sleep well." Logan takes off his jacket and lays it on you. He brushes your cheek gently. A soft smile on his face as he leaves you to sleep peacefully.

"Good night."

God your head hurt and the sun was way too bright. You crack your eyes open groan as you head pounds. What were you even thinking last night? You wanted your damn book back that's what you were thinking. A loud knock on your door makes you moan in pain. Getting up you swing open your door only to be met with Logan holding your book. Your face pales as you see a smirk on his face.

"Wade gave me back your book." You reach out for it but he holds it back.

"You're a real good artist sketch." To your horror he opens up your book and flips to one of its pages.

Right in front of you was a side profile sketch of Logan. It had been while you were at the park or something. The sun was hitting him perfectly, he had this content look on his face. You couldn't help but draw it when you got back home. To capture him in a moment where everything felt okay.

"I uh..I.." You don't know what to say. He caught you red handed. Your face is on fire from shame and embarrassment as he finally hands over your book. You can't even look at him.

"I'm sorry." You whisper. Shutting your eyes you hope he gets the hint and leaves, leaves you to wallow in pity.

"Sorry? Why are you sorry." He grabs your chin and tilts your head up.

"I'm flattered sketch. I think you really captured me pretty good." You still can't bring yourself to say anything as you hug your book tightly. You can't tell if he's making fun of you or what.

"This isn't funny Logan." You try and push his hand off you but his grip is strong.

"Not trying to be funny." He brushes his thumb over your lips.

"Logan..." Your eyes flick down to his lips and you know he catches you.

"Say it, come on don't be shy. Not with me." Sighing you dig your fingernails into your book.

"I love you." Your voice is barely above a whisper, eyes squeezing shut. You almost hope he doesn't hear it but of course he does.

He presses his lips to yours roughly. You drop your book in shock as you melt deep into his kiss. Wasting no time in kissing him back, hands wrapping around his neck to pull him closer. He deepens the kiss as his hands fall to your sides. You pull away much to his disappointment, his lips chasing after yours for a moment.

"I love you too." He kisses your jaw lightly making you sigh.

"You know, those drawings were good but I think you got my lips wrong." You furrow you eyebrows, you thought you got his lips pretty good. After all you stared at them long enough to memorize them.

"Yeah sweetheart, think you need a lesson." He walks you back until you hit your couch.

"Get up close and personal." He winks as you bite your lip. How flustered can he make you?

"Then maybe you can show me more of those drawings."

Well, If it would help make your drawings more, accurate. Then who are you to say no?

"Okay." You run your hands along his arm as you look back up at him. Nerves and excitement swirling around your eyes.

"Don't worry sketch, I'm a pretty good teacher."

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine #worst!logan howlett

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ilguna · 1 year ago

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☼ whisper of the beast (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; on your own, you try to find your boyfriend in the arena. instead, you run across something much, much worse.

warnings; swearing, death, weapon usage, ehhh gore, blood mention.

wc; 2.5k

prompt; 11. "Just keep breathing. In and out. You're doing great."

—

There is something seriously horrifying going on with this arena, and each time you think you get close to figuring it out—it changes.

The only consistent factor in each of your theories is the jungle, and that’s because it’s the root of the fear. When you travel through the greenery for long periods of time, a creeping feeling grows on you, one that you can’t shake unless you make your way back to the beach.

Which is far from safe, itself. Especially since there are nine other tributes alive here, roaming around, hunting for lone victors. For it only being the second day of the Games, it’s remarkable that so many are dead, already. With six of them dying today, alone.

It makes you think that you’re being overly paranoid, because you’re out here by yourself. It’s a completely new experience to you. The first time around, during your Games, the Career alliance lasted up until the very last second. You never had to keep an eye out for yourself, because you had others with you that were doing the same thing.

You were under the impression that you’d be doing that for these Games, too, but nothing has gone according to plan. You and Finnick had a long discussion the night of the interviews on what to expect regarding corralling Katniss and Peeta into the alliance. Neither of you thought it would be easy. Worst case scenario, you’d grab one and he’d get the other, and the two of you would meet up somewhere in the middle.

The Gamemakers really must have it out for you this year, determined to keep you and Finnick apart. That’s why they decided to put you on the opposite side of the Cornucopia, keeping you from seeing Finnick. While also putting Brutus in your water wedge, to ensure that you wouldn’t be able to reach him.

By the time you fought off Brutus and got to the Cornucopia, all three of them were gone. The only option you had left was to wait for Johanna and Blight, but with them still in the water and the Careers coming to take over, you had to leave. There wasn’t a choice in the matter.

Since, you’ve spent your time traveling through the jungle and taking the occasional rest on the beach, in the hopes that you’ll run across your boyfriend. The search was casual yesterday, as you were more worried about finding drinking water than the rebel alliance. Now that the numbers are spiraling, you know that the rescue plan is right around the corner.

You’re confident enough to say that they won’t do it today, but it’s got to be tomorrow or the day after. They won’t have Katniss and Peeta openly in danger like this for longer than they have to. You likely have less than forty-eight hours to find them, or else you’ll get trapped in here and taken by the Capitol.

You would say that you wish you had a general idea on which direction they went in yesterday, but it probably won’t make much of a difference. With the amount of people dying in these trees, you’re sure Finnick is directing them the opposite way, just in case.

It’s another reason why you can’t stand to be in the jungle for long periods of time. From what you’ve gathered, at least half of the tributes that have died today so far, have come from somewhere in the trees. It makes you think that something is out here, and it’s more than just a rogue tribute.

In fact, it would make more sense for it to be a mutt of some kind. In the last Quarter Quell, they were everywhere. There was not a single animal that a tribute could trust to be friendly. On top of that, there were aspects of the arena that took them by surprise.

It appeared to be the most breathtaking place imaginable. The Cornucopia was in the middle of a vibrantly green meadow, the sky a perfect blue, with fluffy white clouds. In the distance, there was a snow capped mountain, one that looked straight out of a picture book. On the other side, a healthy forest with plants you couldn’t name.

Of course, it was all too good to be true. The mountain was revealed to be a deadly volcano, the plants were poisonous, the water was infected with a disease, the insects stung and the flowers could kill when inhaled too closely. Everything that was placed in that arena was working against them.

Who’s to say it’s not the same for this one?

You pause next to a nearby tree to rest your feet, because they’re throbbing in your shoes. You lift one, stretching your thigh, feeling the immediate relief that comes with being off the foot. After a minute, you switch, but it doesn’t feel as good this time around.

When you reach up to run a hand through your hair to smooth it back, you find that your scalp is wet, soaked from sweating so much. It feels much hotter today than it was yesterday, like the Gamemakers are trying to boil you alive. It’s brutal enough being in here, do they really need to make it any worse?

You dip your head, eyes closed while you take a deep breath, sighing it out. You return to walking, paying attention to where you place your feet.

It might make more sense for you to go down to the beach and wait for Finnick, Katniss and Peeta to show up. The issue is that you’re not willing to take the risk of the Careers spotting you while you’re down there. The four of them could easily get you pinned down. You’ll be dead before you can call for help.

A branch rustling behind you makes your next step stutter. Your eyes widen, as you slowly look across the fern in front of you, to the left of your vision. With sensitive ears, you adjust the spear in your hand, turning your body halfway to look behind you, at the tree you were just standing at.

There’s nothing.

You take a minute to search the trees around you, backtracking to get a better look. Even if it’s just a critter, you want to know. If there’s living animals out here, that means there’s a water source—and you won’t have to depend on your sponsors to keep you hydrated.

There’s not a trace. At least, that’s what you think, until your eyes catch the hoof print in the mud. Your face contorts, you drop into a crouch to get closer, curious on what could’ve made a mark like this. As far as your knowledge on the jungle goes, there shouldn’t be anything that could leave this behind.

The goosebumps that crawl up your arms are involuntary, stomach dropping. The safety blanket that the jungle had been providing seconds ago, is gone now. There’s something in here with you, and it was smart enough to run when it made noise.

You raise your head, thinking about the best way to handle this situation, when your heart seizes in your chest.

What the fuck is that.

In one fluid movement, you jump to your feet, turning in the direction of the beach, and beginning to sprint down the slope. A screech cuts through the previously quiet air, piercing your ears enough to make you wince at the pitch.

And then you can hear it galloping behind you, hands and feet pounding against the spongy jungle ground. A scream rises in your throat, terrified to look behind you to see how fast this thing actually is.

You take the chance when you swing around a tree, stealing a glance over your shoulder.

Whatever it is, it’s demonic.

You’ve never seen anything like it. It’s coming at you on all fours, there’s hooves where its feet should be, with long and pointed nails on its fingers. Its fur is so black that you can’t make out where its eyes are, or if it has any skin exposed at all. It’s a beast straight out of one of your nightmares.

It isn’t fast by any means, but it’s not slow, either.

You can hear it tearing up a path behind you, trampling through the bushes, ripping bark off trees. As the path between the trees narrows, the jungle becomes more condensed. You hear less of it coming in contact with the ground, thumping replacing the noise.

Until it stops altogether.

Your instincts take over, jerking to the right, shoulder slamming into the tree. You watch in silence as the beast flies by where you were a second ago, claws out and ready to latch on. It comes into contact with the ground about ten feet away, head whipping unnaturally to see over its shoulder.

“No, no!” You let out, beginning to weave through the trees.

A snarl rips through its throat at the idea of you outsmarting it. It’s coming for you, and there’s nothing you can do besides run for your life and dodge it each time it tries to attack.

You play this game for what feels like an hour, but it can’t be more than twenty minutes. You make it half a mile down the slope, knowing that the beach can’t be that far away from where you are, when you realize that it’s gone. The monster that has been chasing you has given up.

You lean over your knees, mouth watering, throat beginning to close. As you gasp for air, your body tries to expel some of the heat by making you sweat, but all that’s doing is making you sick. You think you might throw up.

Right as you’ve come to terms with losing all the water and food in your body, spit falling from your mouth in long strings, a shadow on the ground grows larger. Your face twists, thinking that something must be falling, like a leaf.

It hits you, literally, flattening you against the ground, head hitting the dirt. It digs in, nails cutting through skin as it tears through your back and arms, shredding your jumpsuit. A scream leaves your lips, a white hot and blinding pain smothering you all at once.

Your hand tightens around the spear, cheek against Earth as the beast presses into your shoulders, keeping you from moving. Still, with the small amount of mobility you have, you swing the head of the spear up, toward yourself, narrowly missing your left shoulder.

It lodges into the beast, causing it to roar in pain. You shove the pole further back, hoping that it pushes into its body deeper. The weight on your shoulders disappears, you can hear it stumbling away.

In the window you have, you get back to your feet, ignoring the screaming pain your entire backside is in. You just need to make it to the beach, it’s not that far away, you’ve covered this distance in your sleep before. It’s harder to do, though, when every hard step you take makes you grit your teeth to keep from crying out.

The beast is catching up with you, recovering from its wound. It’s faster than you are, and it’s completely disregarding everything in its path. Nothing can slow it down. You can see the golden sand through the trees, you’re almost there.

A body jumps out from behind a bush, making you run into it. For a moment, you’re sure that it’s an exact replica of the monster behind you, but once you realize that you’re staring at another tribute jumpsuit, the panic subsides. But only for a second.

“Move!” You shriek, trying to get around him. He grabs the sides of your arms, holding you there.

You look up, finding that you’re standing face to face with the male tribute from Ten—someone who is not part of the rebel alliance, and doesn’t care whether or not you make it out alive. When you glance over your shoulder, you can see that the beast is getting closer. It’s not going to stop until it gets its hands on somebody.

And it won’t be you.

The only choice you have is to sacrifice him, so that’s exactly what you do. You jerk him around, switching places with him, forcing his back to the beast. His eyes widen, mouth opening to say something, when you pull back from him, lifting your leg to kick him in the chest.

The beast takes him gratefully, landing on his back. He stumbles forward, struggling under the weight of the beast. You watch in horror as its jaws unhinge, revealing razor sharp teeth. It throws its head back, before whipping forward, mouth securing around the tribute’s neck.

And with no resistance, he rips out a chunk of the flesh. A spray of blood hits you in the face, and it coats the jungle floor. You back away with wide eyes, watching as Ten’s legs can’t hold him up anymore, body collapsing in the dirt beneath the beast.

A cannon fires.

You turn, making the final push for the beach before it can come after you, too.

The moment your feet hit the sand, it begins to drag you down, keeping you from running as far away as your mind is screaming for you to go. You make it a few feet before landing on your hands and knees, sucking in sharp breaths and letting them out aggressively.

That was almost you. That could’ve been you.

You try to crawl, hands forming in fists in the sand, tears falling from your eyes.

“(Y/n)?” You hear. There’s a headache forming, black spots coming to eat away at the corners of your vision. “(Y/n), hey.”

A hand touching your lower back makes you swing a hand up to get them off. Your wrist is caught, eyes meeting Finnick’s, finding him worried.

“You’re okay, honey. I’m right here.” He pulls at your elbow to make you sit up on your knees.

You grab onto his shoulder, struggling to breathe, “It—it… The—”

Finnick takes your hand placing it against his chest. “Follow me.” He takes a deep breath, you try to follow, stuttering. He blows it out, you sob. “Come on, (Y/n). Just keep breathing. In and out.” You mimic his breaths, allowing them to even out. “You’re doing great.”

“Finnick.” You cry, head falling forward.

He cups your face with both hands, lifting your head. He’s only a couple inches away from you. “You’re safe with me, I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” He wipes your tears away with his thumbs. “Do you want to tell me what’s in there?”

You look away, eyes too intense to stare into. “A monster.”

this was part of my 3k celebration!!

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apdreadful · 8 months ago

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I’ve decided that from here forward I’m writing Tommy and Buck/Evan as long term canon. In the words of Buck himself “Who cares?!”

I get the feeling that Tommy is difficult to get really angry. Mostly based on his past. And his general roll with the punches attitude thus far. So I don’t foresee a lot of strife or fighting in his future with Buck. Except the first time Tommy experiences the after of that big marshmallow Evan Buckley doing something really dangerous and reckless..again.

And Tommy who never gets angry, who never shouts at Buck, who flew a helicopter into a goddamn hurricane in the middle of the ocean, really loses his shit this time because Buck cannot understand why Tommy is so upset that he dropped into a dangerous situation against orders AGAIN.

Tommy pinches the bridge of his nose to keep from shouting “Bobby told you not to go in. He told you not to risk it. That the floors were too unstable”

“There could have been someone left” Buck replies “Someone needed to check. It had to be me”

“Why? Because you’re fucking super human? The great Buck Buckley from the 118 who scoffs at danger, has survived a tsunami, getting trapped beneath a fire truck, throwing a blood clot, and was officially dead for three minutes after getting struck by FUCKING LIGHTNING!”

“How do you know about all of that?”

“That isn’t what matters”

“I think it is” Buck takes a step toward Tommy “Have you been stalking me babe?”

Noticing the mischievous smile Tommy shakes his head “Oh no no no. You are not going to adorable your way out of this”

Bucks shoulders sag and he sighs “I’m ok Tommy. Not even a scratch”

“I can see that” Tommy lets out a deep exhale “I understand the risks of the job. I’m not like your exes who would get all distraught over you removing a cat from a tree. But for fucks sake, you are worse than the EOD guys when I was in Afghanistan with the walking - or in your case running or jumping- right into the worst case scenario with no thought of your own safety” Rubbing his forehead he continues “Evan. You’ve got a savior complex and it’s noble and selfless..”

Buck cuts him off “It’s not a savior complex. I’m not stupid. I understand that sometimes no matter what you do you can’t save them. But sometimes maybe you can, and in those cases, I just make the most sense”

Tommy crosses his arms to keep from strangling him or kissing him stupid again to shut him up “How is that? How does you possibly dying make any sense?”

“They all have people that need them. They all have someone they belong to and..” he trails off with a small shrug

And Tommy hears the words he doesn’t say. He is…expendable. And just like that all of the anger drains out of Tommy to be replaced by a something else. “Evan” he says softly.

“I know” Buck interjects “I know that people love me and they would be sad, especially Maddie. And I don’t want to die. But I don’t want someone who has someone they need, and that needs them, to die either. I couldn’t live with that”

Tommy closes his eyes. This man..How can he be so adorable and selfless, yet so completely stubborn and a pain in the ass about his own safety?

Once he calms his thoughts and finds the words he wants to say, he opens his eyes to see Evan looking at him calmly. Like he expects Tommy to see the sense in what he said.

“Evan. I know we haven’t really put a label on this. On us. But that’s because I don’t want to pressure you. I’m the first man you’ve been with and you’re still figuring out who you are, and I understand that. But let me clarify something for you. I need you to come back to me. Ok?”

Buck blinks “Huh”

“I need you to come back to me” he repeats “Like Bobby needs Athena, and Karen needs Hen, and yes like Maddie needs Chimney.

“And Jee-un. Jee-yun needs her dad”

“Yes, and in that same vein, Christopher needs Eddie” he agrees, trying not to give in to his exasperation. “I need you. I am that person who needs you to come home Evan”

Evan stops whatever he was about to say. Startled awareness creeping into his eyes..Tommy sees a mix of emotions flit across his face. Surprise, joy, fear, everything just races across that expressive face and then Evan sinks onto the barstool at his kitchen island. His hands coming up to cover his face.

Tommy’s stomach clench’s. He pushed too hard, too soon “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I do care and want you to come home but..”

Buck looks up at him “Don’t you dare take that back”

“I’m not taking it back. I just don’t want to push you”

Something else crosses Evans face at that..but he tugged at his bottom lip with his teeth. “You aren’t pushing. You aren’t pressuring me. I am in this just as much as you. I just don’t know how to say what I want to say without it sounding lame and emo as shit”

“Did you just hear me? You can say anything to me Evan. Whatever it is”

Buck rolls his bottom lip between his teeth again. “I’ve never questioned why I do this…I mean it’s the whole reason I was born. To save my brother. To save Daniel. That’s what I do, that’s who I am. It’s why I became a firefighter. To be the one who saves people. The 118 is my family. And I would do anything to protect them from harm”

“I’m not asking you to stop. I would never ask that. I just want to remind you that you matter to a lot of people, and you also have someone who is waiting for you”

Bucks voice is thick “I know that. I get that. But…Nobody has ever. I have never belonged to anyone, like that”

In a sense of deja vu Tommy closes the short distance to Buck. Tipping his face up, he kisses him. Not soft and gentle like their first kiss in this kitchen. But bold and deep. Branding Evan with his mouth. Pulling back he says fiercely “You belong to me like that. For as long as you want..you belong to me and I belong to you, like that”

“I will ALWAYS need you to come back to me Evan”

ao3 like per request

#yes I called him both Evan and Buck #it makes situational sense in my head canon #yes this idea was part of my 3k word barf #but I’m breaking it up into bits #911 abc #evan buckley #tommy kinard #buck x tommy #evan x tommy #911 spoilers #bucktommy #kinley #this ship will be canon goddamn it #wrote this on my phone #tevan

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luviwon · 3 months ago

Text

PHONE SEX | k.sn

kinktober day 12! back to the masterlist here!

☆ dating app stranger!sunoo x dating app user!reader

; “lonely at night? don’t worry, ‘call a lover’ will bring you the company you need in just a couple of seconds”. out of curiosity, you downloaded the dating app mentioned in the ad, just to say goodbye to boredom. i mean, it’s not like you’ll end up moaning a stranger’s name tonight, right?

genre ; smut

taglist ; @blushbunini @moonpri @blackp1nkfan @mitmit01 @pasteltheghost16 @harukayoiiiiiiizzz @mlywon @lhspeachie @seraphira @kaykay11sworld @winuvs @yuniesluv @shhth @rizzki09 @mylettterstoyou @d-dilemma @aanniikkas @hooneyz-luver @laylasbunbunny @nyfwyeonjun @minniesverse

it was a typical friday night, and you had just gotten back from your part-time job, the slight exhaustion from the week settling into your bones. your apartment was quiet, the soft hum of the fridge and the faint sounds of the city outside barely making a dent in the silence. you sat on the couch, scrolling through your phone absentmindedly, looking for something—anything—to keep your mind occupied.

you hadn’t planned on doing much tonight. maybe watch a show, order some takeout, and call it a night. but the familiar feeling of loneliness crept in, as it often did on weekends when the world outside seemed to be buzzing with life, while your space remained still.

a notification popped up on your screen: an ad. “lonely at night? don’t worry, ‘call a lover’ will bring you the company you need in just a couple of seconds.”

you stared at it for a moment, unsure of how to feel. it was kind of absurd, right? a dating app promising to cure loneliness in seconds? still, curiosity tugged at you. it wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about it before—downloading one of those apps. but something always held you back. maybe it was the thought of putting yourself out there, or maybe it was the fear of what you might find.

but tonight, for some reason, the idea didn’t seem so far-fetched. you had nothing to lose, after all. with a sigh, you tapped on the ad, and the app store opened up. call a lover. the name made you roll your eyes a bit, but your fingers moved on their own as you clicked ‘download’.

the app installed in seconds, as promised. you opened it, greeted by a sleek, minimalist interface. it asked for the usual—name, age, a profile picture. you hesitated before uploading one, the weight of the decision pressing on your chest for a moment. but then, you shrugged. what’s the worst that could happen?

as you filled in the details, your mind wandered. was this what you needed? company? or was it just the boredom talking? either way, the app was there now, on your phone, waiting for you to make the next move. maybe it wouldn’t hurt to see what was out there.

you had been scrolling through the app for about half an hour now, and the initial excitement had started to fade. call a lover wasn’t exactly living up to its promise of instant company—it felt more like sifting through a pile of disappointments. most of the profiles were either guys with empty bios or ones that made your skin crawl a little.

there was “jo young, 32, looking for sneaky link,” which made you cringe. another one had no picture but proudly declared, “married, but it’s complicated 😉.” then there was a guy named “hunk4u,” whose profile was just a wall of shirtless selfies, and his bio? “here to make your nights better ;)” as if the wink emoji made it any less sleazy. you swiped left on them all, growing more frustrated by the second.

was this really what dating apps were like? you wondered. was this what people were settling for?

you were about to close the app and chalk the night up to a failed experiment when a small pop-up appeared on your screen.

someone requested a call.

you blinked, staring at the notification for a moment. it took you a second to remember what that meant—someone wanted to talk to you, but the app gave you ten minutes to review their profile and decide whether or not to accept the call.

curious, you clicked on the profile. the username was toxicology. the profile picture wasn’t much to go off—half of his face was visible, just enough to show he was your typical easy-on-the-eyes asian guy, dark hair falling just slightly into view. his expression was neutral, not the usual forced smile or weirdly intense stare you’d seen on other profiles. it was…intriguing.

his bio was short and vague, but there was one detail that caught your attention: “art student.” your heart skipped a beat. he studies art too? you couldn’t help but feel a tiny spark of interest.

you glanced at the timer—five minutes left to decide.

on one hand, it could be just another guy with nothing much to say, or worse, someone pretending to be something he’s not. but on the other, the idea of talking to someone who shared your passion for art was tempting. maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

you took a deep breath, staring at the profile picture again, trying to imagine what his voice might sound like, what kind of conversation you’d have. something about him made you curious.

with five minutes still on the clock, you clicked the green button to accept the call.

the line clicked, and a soft rush of static filled your ears, followed by a faint sound—maybe wind or the rustling of fabric. you could feel your heart pounding a little harder than it should. it was strange, talking to someone you hadn’t even seen fully, someone who was essentially a stranger. but there was a pull, a curiosity that kept you from hanging up.

you cleared your throat, deciding to break the silence. “hi.”

there was a pause, and then a low chuckle filtered through the phone, smooth but light—not the deep, gravelly type you’d expected. still, it hit differently, like it had weight behind it, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. it wasn’t harsh or mocking, but something about it unsettled you, as if he knew something you didn’t.

you frowned. “what’s so funny?” you tried to keep your tone steady, but a hint of irritation slipped through.

“you have a cute voice,” he said, his voice almost lazy but with an edge that made it linger in your ears. “unlike your profile picture.”

your breath caught for a second. cute? unlike my picture? that wasn’t exactly what you expected. you were suddenly hyper-aware of how you sounded, how you were presenting yourself. was he already judging you based on the tiny glimpse of you he’d seen online?

“are you saying i don’t look cute?” your voice came out sharper than you meant, defensive. the last thing you wanted was to feel judged by someone you barely knew.

there was a brief silence, followed by that same faint chuckle, softer this time. “no,” he said slowly, letting the word roll off his tongue in a way that made your chest tighten. “i’m saying you look hot.”

the air seemed to shift. your grip on the phone tightened as you processed his words, feeling the heat crawl up your neck. his voice wasn’t deep, but there was an intensity to it that wrapped around you, making it hard to focus on anything else. it was smooth, intoxicating, just like his username—toxicology—something that lingered and got under your skin in the best way possible. it wasn’t over-the-top, but the subtle confidence was enough to throw you off balance.

your mind raced. the compliment was bold, unexpected. he didn’t sound like the type who threw words around carelessly, which made the impact of them even heavier.

“oh,” you managed to say, trying to steady your breathing. hot. it wasn’t the kind of compliment you were used to, especially not from someone who’d only seen a tiny part of you, but something about the way he said it made it feel more personal, like he meant it. it left you wanting to know more about him, this guy who managed to throw you off guard with just a few words.

“didn’t expect that, did you?” his voice cut through your thoughts, soft but teasing, as if he could read the way you were processing everything.

you shook your head slightly, even though he couldn’t see it. “not really,” you admitted, feeling your pulse race a little faster, the conversation already taking a turn you hadn’t prepared for.

you took a breath, trying to regain your composure after his bold compliment. his voice was still lingering in your head, like the subtle warmth that came from a low flame, and you were torn between wanting to know more and not wanting to show that he had rattled you so quickly.

“so,” you began, attempting to sound casual, “what’s an art student doing on an app like this?”

there was a brief pause on the other end, and then you heard something—a faint click followed by a soft inhale, like the distant sound of someone taking a drag from a cigarette. it mixed with the soft rustling of wind in the background, adding an edge to the quietness between you. you weren’t sure, but the thought crossed your mind: was he smoking?

he didn’t answer right away. instead, he let out a slow exhale, and you swore you could almost hear the faint curl of smoke escaping his lips. “what’s anyone doing on here?” he responded lightly, the flirtatious undertone unmistakable. “same reason as you, maybe… curiosity?”

you narrowed your eyes slightly, feeling like he had turned your question right back at you without really answering it. “curiosity, huh? so you’re just here… what, to talk?”

his laugh was quiet, almost too soft to catch. “maybe. or maybe i’m just waiting to meet someone interesting.”

you could feel his words sink in, another layer of subtle flirtation in his tone. he had a way of answering without giving anything away, always leaving you wanting more. it was frustrating in a way, but also part of what was drawing you in.

“you’re avoiding the question,” you pointed out, feeling the need to steer the conversation back into your control. “how often do you do this? talk to strangers like this?”

there was a beat of silence, the wind picking up a little on his end. “not often,” he finally said, his voice quieter, almost thoughtful this time. “but something about you felt… different.”

you weren’t sure if it was the words themselves or the way he said them, but it made your stomach flip. the mix of flirtation and something almost genuine was disarming. “is that right?” you asked, trying to sound skeptical, but your voice came out softer than you intended.

“mm-hmm,” he hummed, another soft inhale following. “so what about you?” he asked, effortlessly flipping the conversation again. “why’d you accept the call?”

you hesitated, feeling the tables turn. “i don’t know,” you admitted, your fingers playing with the edge of your phone. “maybe i just wanted to talk to someone different too.”

another low chuckle, then the wind shifted slightly again. you could almost picture him outside, leaning against a wall or standing somewhere with that easy confidence. the sound of his cigarette briefly filled the silence again, making the moment feel more personal, as if he was just letting you into his space a little more.

“okay, fine,” you said, deciding to take a different approach. “i’ll keep it simple. what’s your name?”

he paused, and you wondered if he’d avoid this question too. but this time, after a brief second, he answered. “sunoo,” he said, his voice carrying just the slightest edge of softness, as if sharing his name was more personal than all the other words he’d said so far.

sunoo. you repeated it in your head, trying to match it to the voice on the other end of the line. it felt like something had shifted between you, like the conversation had just gotten a little more real.

“sunoo,” you echoed quietly, letting the name settle between you, wondering what else he was hiding behind that voice.

sunoo let the silence hang for a moment, his name still lingering between you. then, with that same teasing edge, he added, “better remember this name for later tonight.”

you frowned slightly, unsure of what he meant. “later tonight?”

he chuckled again, the sound low and smooth, and you could almost hear the grin in his voice. “you’ll figure it out,” he said softly. there was a faint crunch through the phone, like he’d just stepped on something. you realized it was probably the sound of him extinguishing his cigarette on the pavement.

you blinked, still unsure if you were supposed to understand whatever he was hinting at, but decided to brush it off for now. “so, what’s your major?” you asked, trying to shift the conversation back to something more neutral, though the curiosity in your voice was still clear.

“sculpture,” he replied casually, as if it was nothing. but there was a subtle pride in the way he said it, and you could tell it was something that mattered to him.

your eyes widened a little, surprised. “really? i’m a ceramics major,” you said, feeling a small sense of connection bloom. “we’re in kind of the same world.”

sunoo hummed thoughtfully, clearly catching onto that connection too. “see? we’re meant for each other,” he said, his voice dipping just enough to make the line sound half serious, half playful.

you let out a short laugh, shaking your head even though he couldn’t see it. “meant for each other, huh? you sound pretty confident.”

“i just call it like i see it,” he replied, the smirk still evident in his tone.

the more he spoke, the more you found yourself intrigued, not just by the flirtation, but by the easiness of it all—like he knew exactly how to keep you on your toes without being too much. there was a magnetism about him, something about the way he could switch between casual and intense so effortlessly that left you wanting to know more.

“how about we switch this to a video call?” sunoo suggested casually, his voice smooth and confident, like he was just offering to grab coffee or something equally simple.

you froze for a second, the words taking a moment to sink in. a video call? already? your heart skipped a beat, the idea of showing your face to him—this guy you barely knew—feeling a bit too real, too fast. “a video call?” you repeated, a slight edge of surprise in your voice.

“yeah,” he responded, completely unfazed. “unless you’re not ready for me to see how cute you really are.” his tone was teasing but confident, like he already knew you’d say yes.

your breath caught at the boldness of his words, and you felt heat rise to your cheeks. you’d been fine with a voice call, but video? that was something else. your mind raced. you hadn’t exactly prepared for this—you looked fine, but not video-call ready. still, a part of you was curious. maybe this isn’t such a bad idea, you thought, biting your lip.

“give me five minutes,” you finally said, hoping your voice didn’t give away your nervousness.

“take your time,” sunoo replied smoothly, but then, with his usual flirty tone, added, “don’t worry, i’m sure you’ll look just as good as your picture—if not better.”

you rolled your eyes, even though your heart was racing a little faster now. “we’ll see about that,” you muttered, trying to sound more relaxed than you felt.

you hung up quickly, rushing to the bathroom mirror. your reflection stared back at you, and you sighed, grabbing some makeup and fixing your hair as fast as possible. why am i so nervous? you wondered, even though you knew the answer. there was something about sunoo—his voice, his confidence—that made you want to impress him, even if you barely knew him.

after a few minutes of quick touch-ups, you took a step back, giving yourself a once-over. not bad. you smoothed your hair, took a deep breath, and returned to the couch, grabbing your phone. your fingers hovered over the video call icon, the nervous energy building up in your chest.

okay, you told yourself, closing your eyes and taking one more calming breath. just be yourself.

with one last deep inhale, you pressed the video call button. the screen went dark for a moment, and you waited, heart pounding as you prepared to see the face behind the voice.

the screen flickered for a second before it stabilized, and then you saw him—sunoo.

he was indeed outside, just like you had imagined, standing in front of what looked like his apartment building. the soft glow of a streetlight illuminated the scene, and there he was, leaning against the wall in a black jacket that hugged his frame perfectly. His hair was messy, slightly tousled from the wind, just like in his profile picture. but now, you could see the rest of his face, and—shit—he was even more handsome than you’d expected.

his lips were plump, the corners lifting in a slight smirk as he stared right back at you, his eyes half-lidded but sharp, taking you in just as much as you were observing him. you didn’t say anything, too busy scanning every detail—his jawline, his skin, the way his dark hair brushed against his forehead. it felt surreal, finally putting a face to that smooth voice.

and then, with that same teasing confidence you were starting to associate with him, sunoo broke the silence. “make sure you don’t fall for me so fast,” he said, his smirk widening just a little. “not that i would complain.”

you blinked, finally snapping out of your daze, but your heart skipped a beat at how casually he said it, like he knew exactly how much he was affecting you. and maybe he did, because he kept watching you with that smug, lazy look that made it hard to think straight.

before you could even come up with a response, he pulled a cigarette out of his pocket, sliding it between his lips in one smooth motion. you watched, utterly captivated, as he flicked his lighter open, the small flame reflecting in his eyes as he brought it to the cigarette. the moment it lit, he took a slow drag, his gaze never leaving yours, the tip of the cigarette glowing softly in the dark. he exhaled, the smoke curling lazily into the air, mixing with the breeze that ruffled his jacket.

and, god, it was hot. ridiculously hot. there was something about the ease with which he moved, the way his fingers played with the cigarette, his lips wrapping around it, that made your pulse race.

you tried to swallow the sudden rush of nerves that hit you. was this guy real? because standing there, with his cigarette and his half-smirk, sunoo looked like he’d just stepped out of some sort of daydream, except he was right there in front of you, very real and even more attractive than you could’ve anticipated.

“you’re quiet,” he said after a moment, the smoke drifting out from between his lips. “is it because i’m even hotter than you thought?”

your breath caught in your throat at his question, and you felt your cheeks warm, even though he couldn’t see how flustered you were on the other side of the screen. you tried to find your words, but all you could do was stare. everything about him—his casual posture, the cigarette hanging lazily between his fingers, the way his lips curved up in that smug smile—was pulling you in, and you couldn’t help it.

sunoo’s free hand brushed through his hair, pushing the dark strands out of his eyes as he looked at you through the screen, and you swore your pulse quickened at the simple motion. the way his fingers ran through the messy locks made it look so effortless, but it was everything to you. he leaned back against the wall, watching you with an intensity that made it hard to focus on anything else.

“speechless, huh?” he teased, his voice low and laced with amusement, the smoke curling around him as he took another slow drag from his cigarette. when he exhaled, his lips parted slightly, and he let the smoke escape in a way that felt way too deliberate, like he knew exactly what he was doing.

you swallowed, forcing yourself to respond before you completely lost yourself. “you… really are confident, aren’t you?” you managed to say, trying to sound unaffected, though the tremor in your voice betrayed you.

sunoo chuckled, the sound vibrating through the phone. “confident? maybe,” he said, his voice dipping into something smoother, something more intimate. “but i’m not wrong, am i?”

he shifted slightly, tilting his head as his eyes scanned you through the screen. then, with an almost absentminded gesture, his tongue darted out to wet his lips. it was a quick motion, but it felt like slow motion to you, every small movement somehow captivating you even more. his lips, already plump and perfectly shaped, gleamed slightly under the soft light, and your mind blanked for a second.

“you keep staring,” he noted, his tone almost playful but with an edge that made your stomach flutter. “i wonder what you’re thinking about.”

your throat tightened, your heart pounding louder in your ears. what was it about him? he wasn’t doing anything particularly over-the-top, yet every small movement, every glance, seemed to have you hooked. and he knew it. there was something so intoxicating about the way he moved, the way he let his hair fall back into his eyes before pushing it back again with a small, almost careless groan that had you biting your lip.

“you think i look good, don’t you?” sunoo’s voice broke the silence again, softer this time, but it sent a shiver down your spine. “go ahead and admit it. i don’t bite.”

you exhaled shakily, trying to regain control of your thoughts, but it was impossible. his eyes, his lips, the way he carried himself so casually yet with this undeniable attraction—it was making it harder and harder to resist.

“i… yeah,” you said quietly, almost surprised at how easily the truth slipped out. “you do.”

his smirk grew, and he took another slow drag from his cigarette, the smoke swirling lazily in the air before he flicked the ash away. “see?” he said smoothly. “you’re falling for me already.”

you wanted to deny it, to say something back, but the way his eyes bore into yours through the screen made it impossible to argue. every small movement, every teasing word, was drawing you in deeper. you were falling—maybe not fast, but definitely falling. and somehow, you were okay with it.

sunoo took one final drag from his cigarette before flicking it to the ground, the ember glowing softly as it hit the pavement. with a slow, deliberate motion, he stepped on it, snuffing it out beneath his shoe. then, without missing a beat, he looked directly into the camera, his smirk still playing on his lips.

“but you see,” he began, his voice dropping an octave, the words coming out slow and intoxicating, “i’m not a bad guy. so i’m not going to reject your attraction to me.” he paused, his gaze holding yours through the screen. “in fact, i’ll reward you.”

your heart stuttered, a sudden wave of heat rushing through you as his words settled in. reward me? the way he said it sent a shiver down your spine. before you could even process what he meant, sunoo turned and started walking inside, leaving the cool breeze of the street behind him.

you watched, utterly captivated, as the camera shook slightly with his movement, his steps echoing in the hallway as he entered his apartment. it was simple, dimly lit, with warm tones that made everything feel a bit more intimate. he didn’t say anything as he walked into his bedroom, the door shutting softly behind him.

your eyes stayed glued to the screen as sunoo casually shrugged off his black jacket, tossing it to the side with a nonchalance that only added to his appeal. he sank down onto his bed, stretching out in a way that made him seem almost too comfortable, like he was completely at ease with how much power he held over you in that moment.

the soft light from a lamp in the corner bathed him in a golden glow, casting just enough illumination to show his face and the outline of his figure, but leaving enough in shadow to keep you guessing. his tousled hair fell perfectly into place, and as he rested his head against the pillow, you caught sight of his sharp jawline, perfectly defined. when he turned slightly to reach for something off-camera, the veins in his neck became visible, standing out against his smooth skin, and you couldn’t stop the sudden rush of attraction that surged through you.

how is he so effortlessly hot? you thought, feeling your pulse quicken. there was something about the way he carried himself—his confidence, his ease—that made it impossible to look away. every small detail, from the way his jaw flexed as he moved, to the subtle shift of his body against the sheets, had you feeling like you were on the edge of something dangerous.

“you’re still watching, aren’t you?” his voice broke the silence, soft but tinged with amusement. his eyes flickered back to the screen, locking onto yours, and for a moment, you forgot to breathe.

you swallowed, trying to calm the rapid beating of your heart. you hadn’t even realized you were still staring, so completely caught up in every little detail of him that it felt like you were under a spell.

“don’t get too shy now,” he teased, his lips curling into a grin. “i told you, i’m not gonna reject you.”

you couldn’t tear your eyes away, wondering why you felt so drawn to him, why his every word, every movement seemed to pull you deeper. sunoo had this aura about him—calm, confident, and undeniably attractive. it wasn’t just his looks, though those were part of it. it was the way he seemed to understand exactly what you were feeling, how easily he seemed to read you, and how much he enjoyed keeping you on edge.

as he shifted slightly on the bed, his fingers brushing through his hair, the soft light caught the veins on his neck again, and you couldn’t help but be fascinated by how effortlessly alluring he was. your pulse raced, and you found it hard to keep yourself still, your body reacting to every small thing he did. this was more than just attraction—it felt like you were falling, slowly but surely, into something you couldn’t quite control.

sunoo’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned back into his pillow, a lazy grin stretching across his lips. “if you tell me something you really like about my appearance,” he began, his voice dropping low and teasing, “and you talk about it without blushing, then i’ll give you something more to blush about later.”

your breath hitched at his words, and you couldn’t help the warmth rising to your cheeks. he’s really playing with me now, you thought, feeling your heart race faster than before. but despite the nerves bubbling in your chest, you were determined to play along—at least, to try.

“okay…” you started, though your voice was already trembling slightly. stay calm, don’t let him get to you, you reminded yourself. your gaze flicked back to his lips, those plump, teasing lips that seemed to always carry a smirk. “your… lips,” you said, swallowing hard as the words tumbled out. “they’re really—” you paused, trying to find the right words, but your mind was going blank under his watchful gaze. focus, you thought. “they’re, um, really soft-looking. and, uh, perfectly shaped.”

sunoo’s grin widened, clearly amused by how flustered you were. his gaze never left yours, and you could feel your pulse quicken under the intensity of his eyes. keep going, you told yourself, though it felt like every word was making it harder to stay composed.

“they’re the kind of lips that… you could… get lost in,” you continued, though the way your voice faltered made it obvious you were struggling to hold it together. why is this so hard?

sunoo chuckled softly, his eyes darkening with satisfaction at your reaction. “you’re cute when you’re trying to keep your cool,” he teased, his voice rich with amusement. “but you’re not doing too well, are you?”

before you could even attempt to respond, he reached up with one hand, casually tugging the collar of his t-shirt to the side, exposing the sharp line of his collarbone. the movement was slow, deliberate, and unbearably hot. his skin was smooth, masculine, the curve of his collarbone leading down toward the rest of his chest, just barely visible beneath the fabric.

your breath caught, your gaze glued to the new glimpse of skin, and your thoughts scrambled. oh god. the sight of him was already making it impossible to think straight, but now… you were done for.

“wanna see what’s under?” sunoo asked, his tone both playful and seductive, as if he knew exactly what kind of effect he was having on you. his fingers trailed along the edge of his collar, just enough to hint at more, but he didn’t pull the shirt down any further. instead, he looked straight into the camera, his eyes gleaming with challenge. “keep your voice stable. don’t stutter… princess.”

the way he said that last word, dripping with confidence and a hint of something darker, sent shivers down your spine. your lips parted, but no words came out at first. how am i supposed to stay calm after that?

you swallowed hard, trying to steady your breathing. “i can’t…,” you started, your voice barely a whisper, “i can’t focus when you—”

“oh?” sunoo interrupted, raising an eyebrow, the smirk never leaving his face. “then maybe you should stop thinking so much, hmm?”

sunoo’s smirk only deepened as he leaned in slightly, his voice low and teasing. “well, if you think my lips are hot, then I think you’re hot too,” he said, confidence oozing from every word. “so I’ll show you more, too.”

before you could even process what he meant, he reached down and pulled his t-shirt over his head in one smooth motion. your heart raced as you caught sight of his toned torso, the defined muscles of his abs catching the dim light. he adjusted the camera slightly, angling it just right so that both his face and his chiseled body were framed perfectly in the screen.

you felt your breath hitch as he moved his hand softly against his abdomen, tracing the lines with his fingertips as if he were painting a masterpiece, drawing your attention to every contour. how is he this perfect? the sight of him was almost overwhelming, and you couldn’t help but cross your legs, the heat pooling in your cheeks intensifying.

“like what you see?” he asked, his voice dripping with playful arrogance, and you could only nod, utterly flustered. the words were stuck in your throat, and you cursed your inability to form a coherent response.

sunoo leaned back against the headboard, a casual yet alluring posture that made him look even more appealing. he licked his lips slowly, the motion deliberate and enticing, and you felt your heart race at the sight. “you know, I could get used to this,” he said, his tone light yet full of promise. “just you and me, talking like this… but with fewer clothes. what do you think?”

your mind raced as you tried to maintain some semblance of composure, but it was a losing battle. everything about him was magnetic, drawing you in deeper and deeper, making it harder to focus on anything but the thrill of the moment. this is unreal, you thought, feeling both excited and a little overwhelmed.

“are you going to keep staring, or do I need to give you a little more incentive?” sunoo teased, his eyes glinting with mischief, and you could feel the tension in the air shifting, thickening with possibility.

you bit your lip, feeling the heat radiate from your body. “maybe a little more… incentive wouldn’t hurt,” you managed to say, trying to sound brave, even as your heart raced in anticipation.

sunoo’s smile widened, his confidence filling the room like an electric current. “well, in that case…” he drawled, and you leaned forward, unable to pull your gaze away from him, your pulse quickening at the thrill of what was to come.

sunoo tilted his head, his expression playful but intent, as if he were carefully considering his next move. “you know,” he said slowly, “if we’re really going to get to know each other, I might need to see a little more from you, too.”

you felt your cheeks flush again at his words, the implication hanging heavily in the air. “more from me?” you echoed, a hint of nervousness creeping into your voice.

“yeah,” he said, leaning closer to the camera, his gaze unwavering.

even though uncertain at first, it was only fair to give him his part. after all, you’ve been staring at his abdomen constantly for a good time, why not reward him back? with some second thoughts but full of adrenaline, you let your phone down on the bed, pulling your shirt over your head and getting rid of it instantly. the cool air hit against your skin, though your chest was still covered by a laced black bra. you raised the phone back to your face, an impatient sunoo with an everlasting smirk on his face, waiting for your return.

“let me see, princess” he told you on a suave tone, his mouth slightly open, enough to give the right vibes for a sexy boy portrayal. you bit your lower lip and so you lowered the phone down, less confident than he were, only showing your chest before the camera, your face unable to be detected anymore. you looked down at the phone screen, taken by surprise when sunoo found it hard to stay still himself, even though he acted like the most flirtatious fuck boy until now.

“fuck” he whispered, his tongue moving slowly along his top lip, a sudden hunger growing within him. “don’t hide them, princess, let them free. i will take care of them” he winked at you, his smirk never leaving his face. your cheeks started burning again, as you swallowed down and kept the camera at the same angle. using your free hand, you cupped your left breast gently, feeling the material of the bra against your palm. the brunette moved the camera and showed more of his abs again, trying to give you the confidence you needed to show him more.

i mean, better be equal, right?

your fingers wrapper around the side of the bra, pulling it down on the side, exposing a hardened nipple for the camera. sunoo couldn’t help but keep biting his lips, feelings his abs all along, although you did notice his hand going lower and lower each time. and that turned you on so much, seeing how much your body made sunoo feel, you could swear his trousers looked tighter on him already.

but you couldn’t tell just now for a fact, as the angle was not quite it, and the light did not do it any justice.

but there was only one way to find out, and that was giving him more. so with a burst of initiative, you moved you bra under your boobs, pulling both of them out, hanging so prettily for sunoo. “they look so perfect” he whispered, but you heard clearly his words, which made you giggle. that was the last drop you needed to gain enough confidence, moving the phone more to capture both your chest and your face. “i was right to say you are hot, princess” he winked, his hand nowhere to be found anymore along his abs.

“do you want to do something fun together?” he proposed, his voice lower than before, almost like he wanted to draw you even more to him, aware of how much he is hypnotising you. you nodded in response, sunoo immediately pulling down his trousers and lowering the camera again. he was only wearing a pair of boxers now, the shape formed in the middle almost making you choke on your own saliva. he looked big, maybe TOO big inside his boxers, and you could only fantasize about what’s kept inside.

his hand brushed softly against his bulge, triggering to grow even more, although his eyes were fixed only on your tits, your hardened nipples and your collarbone area. he was hypnotised himself. “play with your tits for me, princess”, then a moment of silence set in as you left another bite mark on your lips, your index fingers making some circles around your bud, creating a heat pool between your legs, which have been crossed for so long now.

“you must be so wet seeing me like this” he chuckled, slyly moving his hand inside the boxers, wrapping it around his length, still not in the view for you. and that made you impatient, you really wanted to see more, to see how he is pleasuring himself at the view of your chest, to see the result of his attraction for you. so you pushed your shorts lower down too, a pair of purpleish panties covering your needy pussy.

much more confident this time, you moved the camera lower, surprising sunoo with your sudden pride, showing off your wet cunt. your panties were already proving the brunette what a good job he’d done, the wet stain visible to the camera. sunoo smirked, uncontrollably, and unable to cover his cock anymore, he pushed down the boxers and let his dick stand up freely.

“oh my-“ you started, pupils growing 10x more. he was big INDEED, and you’d lie if you said you didn’t want him to stretch your tight pussy out all night.

“tell me, princess, will this even fit inside you?”

you gulped, surprised by his question, almost like you still didn’t get used to his dirty talk. but not even years would get you prepared for such a thing, as his voice made it hotter everytime, and every flirting line he said, felt almost too real, too directed to you like he meant it.

and maybe he did.

“i don’t know” you answer honestly, not sure if you could even take him without waking up all yours neighbours with your screaming.

“then take care of your pussy for me, princess”

with a natural move, sunoo started pumping himself, his hand going up and down his length, almost in sync with your trembling fingers who pressed hard against the fabric. your cunt was finally receiving some attention, even though you wished in despair it was his hand that did the job. his hand looked absolutely perfect in the dim light, his soft veins making you swallow.

“take them off” sunoo urged you, and you followed his words, throwing them somewhere in the corner. “do you have any toys, princess?”. you shook your head, letting him know you don’t own such things, even though you were planning to purchase some, “then grab your hairbrush”

following all of your lover instructions, you made yourself cum with the brush, while he never stopped pleasuring himself.

#enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen smut #enhypen hard #sunoo hard thoughts #sunoo hard hours #sunoo smut #enhypen sunoo #kim sunoo #sunoo x reader #sunoo x you #enha sunoo #enhypen masterlist #kinktober

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ellswritings · 17 days ago

Text

Don’t Be Late

Finnick Odair x Reader

TW: Regular Hunger Games angst, Finnick being a tease, mind games, mutual flirting, spicy flirting.

︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚. ︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚. ︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚. ︶︶︶︶

Hatred. That’s the only emotion Y/N L/N felt towards one Coriolanus Snow. Having won the 72nd Hunger Games, she thought that the worst of what she would experience would be over. But how wrong she was.

The moment she stepped out of the arena is when the real trials began. She was Snow’s puppet, used to flaunt around like a prize. The only thing she supposes she can be grateful for is since she is in so high demand, Snow keeps her close. Not just anyone can touch her.

She’s valuable to him. She has a special talent that he values and it’s her ability to sing. To put on a show. She’s a desirable Victor no doubt, but Snow has never been one to let her get too far off her leash. It’s exhausting. Especially being a newer winner of the Games.

The Canary is what they call her. Fragile yet beautiful. So it was quite the shock to find out how dangerous she truly was when seeing her in the arena. Being from an outlier District, no one expected much from her. But as soon as she got her throwing knives and a sickle in her hand, they realized how much they underestimated her.

Fourteen out of the Twenty-four Tributes died because of her.

That’s how desperate she was to get home. To get back to her family. But at that time she didn’t know she’d be spending more time in the Capitol than she ever would back home. It was performance after performance with an occasional day or two spent back in District Ten. If she would have known this would be what her life would turn into, she would’ve let the dry desert conditions kill her. But at least her family was taken care of. That’s all that matters.

She misses them, of course. Everyday she calls and hopes they’re doing well. But there’s no point in getting her hopes up to see them again.

That hope was only stripped further away when she ended up being reaped for the Quarter Quell.

A small part of her wondered if Snow meant for this to happen. Perhaps she lost some of the value she once had to him, but judging by the tight look on his face when she arrived with her Tribute partner, he wasn’t happy.

There weren’t many female Tributes to choose from in their District. While it terrifies her to be thrown back into the arena, there’s a reason she has the most kills out of any Victor in the Games.

When she’s desperate, she’s not afraid to get her hands dirty.

The only thing is, this time she isn’t desperate to get out. She wouldn’t mind dying this time. Maybe then she could experience real freedom and not the fake kind she was promised among her first winning.

Coming into the 75th Games was rather nerve wracking. Most of the Tributes that were reaped know each other, they’ve made friends, alliances. Y/N has never been permitted to go far enough away from Snow or his guards to make friends. Or to at least get someone to trust her. Even her escort was unsure of her chances this time around simply because she’s an outsider.

The only other two that seem to be in a similar boat is last years winners from District Twelve. Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark. But the Girl on Fire doesn’t seem to keen on making friends. Not that Y/N blames her. Making nice with the people of the Capitol, let alone the previous Victors was no easy feat.

If Y/N could voice how she truly feels about the people she’s surrounded by, she no doubt would be hung for her very choice words.

Loud cheers erupt from overhead as she walks out to the chariots before the Tribute parade. They chant her name like a prayer as she saunters forward, but she pays no mind to the attention. Her eyes remain on the dark horses that sit politely as they wait for the parade to start.

Her long, golden dress sways freely behind her as her heels click against the concrete. The subtle shimmering patterns on the sheer white fabric resembling the free flowing image of crops being pushed by a light breeze in a large field. Her heels wind up around her calves, the thin straps also resembling the tips of wheat as it reaches the top.

The design was reminiscent of the bounty of her district, but the material was so thin that it left very little to the imagination. The gown was made in a way that accentuated her curves and showed off her body. A pair of golden shoulder plates added a touch of intimidation, making her look like the warrior she became in her first games.

She finds it hard to take deep breaths, her waist cinched into the corset so tightly that she might have permanent internal damage by the time the night is over. Golden strands are weaved throughout her hair which is braided into a half crown that rests atop her head.

This outfit is rather different than the usual ones Snow has her put in. It’s much less innocent than what she’s used to. He usually wants her portrayed as his perfect rose, incapable of tarnish. But perhaps things are different now that he might lose her.

She fights the urge to dig her nails into the palm of her hand by distracting herself. She pets the soft mane of the horse in front of her, the magnificent creature leaning into her touch like they’ve known each other for years.

Judging by the looks she’s currently receiving from the other Tributes, this horse might be the only positive relationship she’ll form over the next couple of days.

“How did we end up here, huh?” She asks the horse quietly, scratching him in the exact right place. He huffs happily which makes Y/N’s heart warm. It doesn’t happen often, but she does try to notice the beauty that’s left in Panem.

“Well, well, today must be a momentous occasion,” a sultry voice rings out behind her, making a shiver run down her spine. “The Canary has finally been let out of her cage.”

Y/N spins on her heel, her eyes narrowed. The black eyeliner making her stare look even more deadly. She stares unamused as Finnick Odair in all of his glory walks towards her, sugar cube in hand. He tosses it in the air before licking his lips seductively, stopping a bit too close to her.

She can feel his body heat radiating off of him, making her cheeks flush at their close proximity. She thought she had the right to complain about how revealing her outfit was, but she stands corrected. Finnick is the closest anyone could be to naked. Only a small golden net strategically knotted at his groin for some form of modesty.

“Finnick…” Y/N trails off, continuing to remain uninterested as she continues petting the horse in front of her.

“I never thought I’d live to see the day,” he laughs breathily, still rolling the sugar cube between his fingers. His breath though gives off the sickly sweet aroma that he’s already helped himself to quite a few of those cubes before heading over to her. “Where I’d finally get to see you up close,” his eyes rake up and down her form hypnotically. She understands now why everyone has fallen for this man. He makes it hard not to. “I’ve been to a few of your shows, and I must say, you are just as mesmerizing up close.”

“You think so?” She comments dryly, finally giving him the time of day by turning to fully face him.

Finnick laughs again, “You’re a closed off little thing, aren’t you?” He once again licks his lips, sucking all the oxygen out of Y/N’s lungs. “I have to admit, this is a very different persona from what I’ve seen in your interviews.”

“I’m sorry I’m not living up to your expectations,” she crosses her arms. “But you’ll have to forgive me for not caring. I mean, you would know all about differing personas wouldn’t you?” She quirks a challenging brow.

“Ooh, so she does have teeth,” Finnick nods, tilting his head as he analyzes her every move. “I like that.”

“Are you telling me you want me to bite you, Odair?” Y/N’s lip twitched upward slightly as she returns some of his flirty nature.

“I wouldn’t necessarily be opposed,” he fires back just as smoothly. He leans in closer to her, “But just a warning, I tend to bite back,” his smirk would be infuriating if Y/N wasn’t extremely attracted to him.

“I don’t know if you saw my Games, but I don’t mind playing rough,” she returns his smirk. “Despite the good girl reputation I’ve been bestowed, I’m not as innocent as people would believe.”

His eyes darken and his pupils dilate as his vision takes in her form. She clearly said something he likes. “I’m starting to believe that’s true.” He sticks his hand out towards her, “Sugar cube?” He offers.

Deciding to play into the light banter they have going on, Y/N leans forward, making direct eye contact with the sea foam green eyes in front of her. She gracefully wraps her lips around the sweet treat, letting it dissolve on her tongue before pulling away. Finnick can’t seem to look away. She’s truly is very different than the person he thought she was.

He raises his finger up, a small bit of sugar still left, “You missed a spot.”

Y/N knows better than to let his flirty behavior rattle her. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she grins, leaning forward again as she grips his wrist gently. She brings his finger to her lips before licking the remaining sugar off. “Better?”

“Much,” his eyes flicker to her lips. “Y’know, it really is too bad this is our first conversation. I feel like we would have had a lot of… fun had we gotten to know each other sooner.”

“Who says we can’t have fun now?” Y/N counters, using her new height from the heels to her advantage. While Finnick still towers over her, she can meet his stature much easier with the stilts on her feet. Their noses are practically touching at this point. “The only question is if you’re willing to take the risk. Getting involved with a caged bird is risky business.”

“I have a feeling you’re not as caged as you pretend to be,” he whispers, using his pointer finger to tilt her chin up. “What do you say you tell me all those secrets you seem to keep locked away?”

“What do I get out of it?” Y/N challenges. “I have a lot of things to keep hidden, Odair. I can’t just go spilling everything to every pretty blonde who flashes a smile.”

“What other pretty blondes do you know?” He questions cockily.

“I mean, I have to say, the newbie is pretty easy on the eyes,” she nods over to Peeta who just emerged from the hall, a nervous look on his face. “I’m not easily persuaded, Finnick. If you want to know my secrets, you’ll have to try a bit harder than that.”

“I think you’ll find that I don’t give up easily,” he places his hand on her waist, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. “I’ll make you sing, Bird. Don’t you worry.”

“Oh, so we’re already at the nickname phase?” Y/N says teasingly. “Seems our relationship is progressing pretty quickly, Peacock.”

A genuine laugh leaves his lips, not the fake or seductive one he always uses. “Yeah, yeah, I guess it is.”

“You’re rather forward considering the fact we just met,” Y/N places her own hands on his chest, dusting off invisible particles from his tan skin.

“And you’re rather receptive,” he adds, enjoying the feeling of her delicate fingers on his skin.

There’s a certain electricity brewing between them. He’s always found her intriguing, like a beautiful jewel he can stare at but never touch. Hence why he can’t help but hold her closer to his body, to make sure that this is real. That he really is touching the woman he’s watched from afar for so long.

“I’ve waited to meet you in person for a long time, Bird,” Finnick’s voice is low, only loud enough for her to hear. From the outside, it would look like the Capitol Darling trying to intimidate the innocent Canary with his flirtatious tactics. No one would know just how much she’s relishing in the attention.

“Well, I suppose the question is now that you’ve met me… What do you plan on doing with me?” She somehow manages to push herself closer, her lips practically grazing his.

It takes every fiber of Finnick’s being not to close the distance, but he can’t. Not here. “Believe me, there are plenty of things I plan on doing to you when I have the chance,” he says huskily. “Unfortunately, I can’t act on those impulses now.”

“I’m sure we can work around that,” she whispers back. “Two a.m., my room. The guards take five minutes to change shifts. It’s a short window, so don’t be late.”

And with that, she backs up, batting her eyelashes if nothing happens. “It was nice chatting with you, Finnick.” She winks subtly at him before mounting her chariot, leaving the Prince of Panem speechless.

The one thing he does know though, is that he definitely will not be late.

#finnick x reader #thg finnick #thg fanfiction #the hunger games imagines #finnick odair x reader #female reader #quarter quell #catching fire #sugar cube #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen #coriolanus snow

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klaus-littlestwolf · 9 months ago

Text

Yan!Aemond T. NSFW A-Z

(For the multiple people who asked for a Yandere Alphabet for our favorite little War Criminal)

A stands for AFFECTION: how would they show affection?

•Aemond is a gift giver to the extreme

•From the moment you found out about your betrothal to your Uncle, you had been receiving gorgeous dresses, fantastic shoes and jewelry you could never have imagined wearing. All of the jewelry you were gifted containing large sapphires in the necklaces or earrings, staking the One Eyed Princes claim on you

B stands for BLOODY: how bloody are they willing to get for their object of obsession?

•He loves getting bloody on a normal occasion so getting bloody for you would be a joy for Aemond

•He would slaughter any and all men who dared even think they had a chance with his girl and he even killed a few women who thought it their place to ‘warn you’ about what he’s like and insist you needed to get out of the marriage proposal, even though you all knew that was impossible

C stands for CRUELTY: would they ever hurt their object of obsession?

•Aemond would avoid harming you as much as possible, he never liked to see pain on your face or bruises on your perfect porcelain skin but if you thought you were going to defy him then he needed to teach you a lesson

•Normally locking you in your rooms was enough after two days of isolation and eating all of your meals alone

•Only once did Aemond ever really hurt you and it was only after you had pushed him too far, something even you admitted he couldn’t ignore in public

D stands for DARLING: would they cross their object of obsession’s limits?

•Aemond is as patient as he can be with you but if you give him no other choice, then yes, he absolutely will

E stands for EXPOSED: how much do they expose their own feelings to their object of obsession?

•Aemond talks to you about almost everything

•One of your jobs as his wife is to listen to him and you quickly find out you’re the only person that he really tells about how he feels about everything from his mother to his brother to even his father

•He is also very open in how he feels about you, making it clear from the moment you are betrothed that you are his and he is completely obsessed with you loves you dearly

F stands for FIGHT: how would they react to their object of obsession fighting back?

•Aemond absolutely thinks it’s funny…for about 5 minutes

•You are his wife and him your husband, you will behave as a lady is expected to behave within the confines of her marriage so ‘fighting back’ isn’t really much of an option

G stands for GAME: do they think this is just a game?

•You are Aemond’s everything, this is no game

•Anyone who thinks it is will get a painful wake up call sooner than they think

H stands for HELL: what would be their object of obsession’s worst experience with them?

•Your worst experience would be the one time you made the mistake of refusing his demands in front of the small council

•Aemond didn’t want to harm you, he was trying quite hard to get you used to being his wife and doing your duties/behaving how he expected you to but you didn’t give him much of an option before you felt his hand strike your face so painfully you briefly thought he had broken your jaw

•He apologized for hitting you so hard later in the privacy of your rooms but informed you that you shouldn’t have said anything against him in front of anyone especially the small council and even you knew how badly you had messed up as soon as the words left your mouth

I stands for IDEAL: what are their plans for their object of obsession?

•Aemond’s plan is impregnating you

•That has been his plan since the moment he insisted his mother ensure you were going to be his wife

J stands for JEALOUSY: how they react when jealous? Do they get jealous?

•When Aemond is jealous someone is going to die, he is a violent man when he thinks another man is getting close to his wife and he will often publicly punish any man who he thinks is looking at his Princess wrong

•You learned very quickly to talk to other men as little as possible

•However you also learned that if you wanted a man dead you had a sure fire way to make it happen

K stands for KINDNESS: how they act around their object of obsession?

•When you and Aemond are alone he is much different than he is in public

•Aemond is usually a sweet, gentle person with you when he isn’t in a bad mood or you’re not being difficult

•Even when in public he is gentler with you than most men are with their wives, he’s just far more quiet and somber

L stands for LOVE LETTER: how would they approach their object of obsession?

•He made sure his mother knew he would only accept you as his wife, and that if Rhaenyra made the mistake of trying to marry you to anyone else he would steal you away before any wedding could take place and burn the Lords house to the ground, ally of the Hightowers or not

•Aemond was quite sweet to you, he always had been when you were children however he was a proper gentleman now and he ensured you were as happy as you could be…obsessively so

M stands for MASK: how different are their public persona from their true selves?

•He is quiet for the most part in public, and if he must say something it is usually a snarky comment or a backhanded insult

•With you he is very attentive and often needy for your attention which is actually what makes you fall for him in the end, loving his desperation for you

N stands for NAUGHTY: how would they punish their object of obsession?

•Aemond locks you in your chambers until you can’t stand being alone anymore and admit you were wrong for whatever, you never really need anything more than that

O stands for OPPRESSION: how many rights would they take from their object of obsession?

•Rights?

•What are rights?

•You are Aemond’s wife. You will do what is expected of a highborn lady wife or be punished. Even so, Aemond tries to make you as happy as he can and doesn’t order you about as much as he could

P stands for PATIENCE: how patient are they with their object of obsession?

•Aemond tries his best to be very patient and to his credit he does very well until you push too hard

•Compared to other men and even other Targaryen men, he is quite patient with you, wanting you to actually learn lessons and want to be a good wife for him in the end

Q stands for QUIT: if their object of obsession died or escaped, would they ever be able to move on?

Died: He would be a complete basket case without you and he would refuse to remarry for any reason what so ever

Escaped: He would go on a rampage until he got you back. No one would be safe until he found you and had you back in his arms

R stands for REGRET: would they ever regret harming their object of obsession? Would they ever let them go?

•Aemond will Never let you go

•He would only ever regret how hard he slapped you once in a small council meeting, he hated how afraid of him you were in that moment

S stands for STIGMA: what made their yandere tendencies bloom?

•You had always been the only one in the family who was kind to Aemond, being his best friend as kids

•He knew you would be his wife from the moment you first stuck up for him during the pig prank to your brothers and uncle, that was the day he fell completely in love with you

•He decided that night that he would do whatever he needed to do in order to make you his wife, even though he knew his mother would want to marry him to another house and that Rhaenyra would never want you to be with him

T stands for TEARS: how would they react to their object of obsession crying/breaking?

•Anger

•Your tears brings out a rage in Aemond that is not often seen and he will slaughter whoever has made you so upset

•If he were the one to upset you however, he wouldn’t really know how to fix that. He would typically hold you until you either calmed down or cried yourself out and then get you a gift as an apology since “apologizing” isn’t really something he knows how to do very well

U stands for UNIQUE: something different they would do compared to others yanderes.

•In the beginning of your relationship, before the wedding was set and you were staying as far from him as you could, Aemond came up with a plan to make you dependent on him and feel safe with him to ensure you wouldn’t try and run back home to Rhaenyra and Daemon (who was the only man you seemed to trust which enraged him to no end)

•Aemond had Criston Cole hire a man to sneak into the castle with the intent to kill you. He planed it out meticulously to ensure you were never in any real danger though you wouldn’t know that

•The man entered your chambers as you were getting ready to sleep and you shrieked, backing towards the window, pleading with him not to harm you and telling him that he could leave and you would forget he was ever there. Suddenly your door flew open and Aemond ran in, he was on the man before you could blink, beating his head in as he shouted about how he would never let anyone harm his wife

•It was that night that you really began giving Aemond the chance to win your love, realizing that you were truly safe with him. The entire plot was a secret that Aemond would take to his grave

V stands for VICE: what weakness their object of obsession could use against them?

•His jealousy, 100%

•If you want someone, anyone dead, all you need to do is make it seem like they’ve been looking at you for more than a second too long, it gives you a feeling of absolute power and you love it

W stands for WIT’S END: would they hurt their object of obsession?

•Aemond would never hurt you in any kind of serious way

•If he has to he will lock you in your chambers for the rest of your life, but he won’t do you serious harm

X stands for XOANON: would they worship their object of obsession?

•He definitely has a way of making you feel like a Goddess

•Especially when you’re pregnant as he worships the ground you walk on. He is constantly getting you whatever food you’re craving, fluffing your pillows, rubbing your sore feet, anything to make his precious Princess feel better while she is carrying his baby inside of her

•You are the most precious thing in the whole world to him and even when he is upset with you Aemond never lets you forget it

Y stands for YEARN: how long would they pine after their object of obsession before they snap?

•Aemond has always loved you, and always had a bit of a crush on you however he has been head over heels since he was 10

•He keeps it together and hidden until he is 16 and he demands you as his bride upon hearing that Rhaenyra was considering marriage proposals for you, the idea of you being married off to someone else sending him over the edge

Z stands for ZENITH: would they ever break their object of obsession?

•Aemond doesn’t want you broken, he wants you to be his compliant little Princess and that’s exactly what you are

•You had always known what was expected of you as a women and a wife in a marriage from the time that you were a little girl (though you never expected to be married to your Uncle) but Aemond ensured that you would be exactly what he always wanted in a wife and you are absolutely Perfect to him

Aemond T. Masterlist

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rivendell-poet · 4 months ago

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Hello! Can you do a headcanon on how the fellowship reacts to the 10th member being so oblivious to flirting?

Thanks so much anon! Sorry it's taken me a bit to answer, but hopefully you enjoy these <3

*･༓˚✧❝𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬-𝐭𝐨-𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐡-𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫❞‧͙⁺˚༓˚✧ « headcanons »

○ Aragorn ○ Legolas ○ Gimli ○ Boromir ○ Pippin○ Merry ○ Frodo ○ Sam ○

GN!Reader | No TWs | Wordcount : 1k

𝐀𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐧

✧ His main ways of showing affection/romance isn’t flirting, so if you pick up on him being more caring/his eyes constantly drifting to you/wanting to listen to you speak then you’re good.

✧ However, if you miss all of those queues as well, eventually he does realise he needs to be more obvious.

✧ Aragorn is pretty good at flirting, the voice definitely puts it from good to pretty good, although a lot of his lines are still done when he’s close to you.

✧ The two of you will be leaning against a wall and he’ll come closer before saying something.

✧ And then you still don’t figure it out.

✧ Confesses pretty quickly after realising it isn’t going to happen any other way.

✧ Will still flirt with you, especially after a fight. Grins when you just look at him like ‘???’

✧ Eventually you understand when he’s doing it, although that’s more because he’ll always come very close to you before saying something. (Comes up behind and hugs before whispering in your ear.)

𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬

✧ Also a more traditional romantic, except whenever he takes you on long walks with him it always ends up with one of you infodumping about some flora/fauna you’ve seen.

✧ Still loves you for it, but decides to try a different approach.

✧ Merry and Pippin decide to step in and help their good friend Legolas, and give him some of the worst flirting lines anyone has ever heard (made most of them up).

✧ Says them to you in his softest voice, before staring deep into your eyes and trying to see if you liked it.

✧ You just end up in weird staring contests until he looks away, or you ask him what he said and he repeats it (you still don’t get it).

✧ Isn’t sure what he’s doing wrong.

✧ Asks Aragorn to help, and does spend a night trying to flirt with the ranger as though he were you.

✧ Aragorn has far too much fun during this, and Legolas takes it far too seriously.

𝐆𝐢𝐦𝐥𝐢

✧ Is also so confused as to how you’re not getting it, and what he’s doing wrong.

✧ But he is a great smooth-talker, genuinely 10/10 lines. Has one for most occasions, and in most tones.

✧ Does experiment to try and find which ones you like and is just so confused as to why none make you blush.

✧ Eventually realises it’s because you’re being oblivious and not because his lines are bad (which is a big relief for him).

✧ Finally, after saying a great line to you, he gets exasperated and asks if you even know he’s flirting with you.

✧ You immediately go red, and he takes that as a ‘no’.

✧ Grins and asks if you’d like to hear any for a second time.

𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐫

✧ Mainly shows affection by physical touch and acts of service. His loving words to you and generally acts of praise, or asking you to continue talking - he’s better at listening.

✧ Is also given advice by Merry and Pippin to flirt with you, although he recognises how bad their lines are and genuinely asks them if any of these have ever worked before.

✧ Does not believe them if they say yes.

✧ He has experience with flirting, although it’s generally over ale and with people flirting at him - not the other way around.

✧ At first is more subtle with his flirting. Then, when you aren’t getting it, it eventually devolves into much more obvious flirting - the kind used at slightly seedy bars.

✧ Knows from experience (himself) about people being oblivious to flirting so eventually just confesses.

✧ Still flirts to see the ‘???’ face and laughs before hugging you, telling you he loves you if you ask what he meant.

𝐏𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧

✧ Good at flirting, but not in a serious or romantic way. He’s better at getting a smile from his lines, and getting his feelings across, than he is actually starting something intimate.

✧ Flirts quite often from the day he meets you, and doesn’t realise you’re not understanding them.

✧ Slowly gets more dejected until Merry is like, ‘you know they haven’t picked up on you flirting with them?’

✧ Instantly brightens.

✧ Flirts quickly get more and more obnoxious. Gandalf audibly sighs at quite a few.

✧ Eventually tells a very obvious one while looking directly into your eyes and winking.

✧ Takes a lot of pleasure in your embarrassment, will take advantage of you finally realising he’s been flirting with you and tell you almost every line.

✧ Occasionally comes up to you and says something random but with a wink - you then have to guess if it’s a genuine pick-up line or nonsense.

𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲

✧ Quite similar to Pippin, although his pick-up lines are slightly better.

✧ Uses them as a way to subtly show his feelings to people, as a way of confessing without the harshness of rejection.

✧ Catches on fairly quickly that you’re pretty oblivious. Has a small amount of fun with it.

✧ Makes some small bets about if you’re going to notice him flirting (mainly with Merry, very occasionally Aragorn, Boromir, Gimli, and Gandalf join in. Legolas could, but just bets with Aragorn).

✧ Confesses normally to you.

✧ Attempts to rig the gambling ring by telling you how you should act ahead of time - this is quickly discovered.

𝐒𝐚𝐦

✧ Sweet, little Sam.

✧ Cannot flirt for the life of him. He truly is trying.

✧ Even gets coaching from Merry and Pippin (and a pep talk from Frodo) to try.

✧ Doesn’t realise you’re oblivious because he’s also so bad at it.

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐨

✧ Frodo is surprisingly good at flirting, he just never uses them.

✧ And whenever he does there’s always a slight aura of him being uncomfortable about them. It’s subtle, but it’s there.

✧ Wouldn’t use them as a way to show you his feelings, and would confess before flirting with you.

✧ Does it very occasionally, and when you don’t realise he grins a little.

✧ Tries flirting a bit more, you don’t pick up on any of it, and lets you know at the end of the night.

✧ Very occasionally would flirt with you - but if he’s going to talk to you with romance in mind, he rather be vulnerable and open than flirt.

Hopefully you enjoyed! In any case, I'm thankful you stuck around until the end <3

« 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 » « masterlist of my works »

thank you for reading *･༓˚✧ wish to be tagged?

#lotr x reader #lotr x you #the fellowship x reader #the fellowship of the ring x reader #aragorn x reader #legolas x reader #boromir x reader #pippin x reader #frodo x reader #merry x reader #flirting #x reader #x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #lotr headcanons #headcanons

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hannieehaee · 2 months ago

Text

NEED TO KNOW (teaser)

18+ / mdi

content: virgin!jungkook, f2l!jungkook, loser!jk, sub!jk, college au, jk is insanely socially awkward and shy, kook is touch starved, afab reader, smut, dry humping, fingering, penetrative sex, etc.

(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)

wc: 612 (teaser); 10k (full fic)

RELEASE DATE: november 26th

or you can check it out on my patreon today by subscribing!

a/n: picture 21 year old jungkook for this hehe<3