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mickandmusings · 6 months ago

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third times the charm

pairing: tyler owens x f!reader

word count: 3.8k

summary: life has a funny way of putting people in your path, and ultimately making them part of your life. but what happens when the one person you never want to see stumbles in over and over again, a disastrous tornado tearing up your path of moving on?

aka: the two times tyler owens enters and, consequently, leaves, your life at the wrong time, and the one time he comes at the perfect moment and finally stays.

warnings: reader is described in a feminine manner; why are we ignoring his bull rider trope? cause i'm not babes xx; angsty mainly, but fluff too; lovers to enemies back to lovers (sorry); this author knows nothing about tornadoes or weather so sorry

shoutout to megan moroney and her banger new album where this title and idea come from :)

"What do you mean you're leaving?!"

Tyler shuts the tailgate of his red pick-up with a loud slam, the cowboy hat on his head nearly flying off with the force. Y/N stood just a few feet away, her arms crossed over her torso as her chest heaved in short, shaking breaths. The sunlight hits her just right, and the gold chain around her neck glimmers in the sunlight. It catches Tyler's attention from the corner of his eye-it had been burned into his mind from the moment he'd bought it with a chunk of his earnings from last year's rodeo. The chain was delicate, simple, but the charm had been the main appeal: it was gold, the same shade as the chain, but in the center of the small heart shaped pendant sat a capital 'T'. She'd worn it since he'd given it to her for a birthday present, and it had been the center piece of even their most intimate moments-her bare beneath him with only the glittering jewelry adorning her as he had her unraveling under his touch. Even the thought of it had heat traveling up Tyler's neck, and he swallowed down the feeling, along with all of the guilt bubbling to the surface.

"I'm leavin', simple as that."

"Ty, I-I don't understand. You get bucked off one time and you're giving up?! You've been riding since we were kids, I-"

He turns to her, emerald eyes blazing with an emotion he couldn't put a label on.

"I didn't just get 'bucked off', I almost got my head trampled in case you forgot!" His voice is laced with anger. He's not angry with her, he's angry with himself. After a series of unfortunate injuries in last month's local rodeo, Tyler knew he couldn't ride again, it would kill him. He'd spent the last few weeks in physical therapy and doctor's offices just to make sure the damn bull hadn't left behind more than scars.

It was better this way, he could leave his town behind, and forget about the deep, gut-twisting feeling of failure that sat like acid in his stomach. But leaving his hometown also meant leaving her.

Tyler had fallen for Y/N their junior year of high school, and they'd rarely been seen without one another ever since then. She was sweet and shy to his brash and confident, his biggest supporter-always sitting in the stands for all of his rides-whether he was the talk of the town or stumbling home, his shotgun rider, and the girl who wore his heart (literally and figuratively) on a chain around her neck. Looking at her now, with tears lining under her gorgeous eyes, he wanted to just forget all of his plans and pull her into his arms. He wanted to reassure her that he'd stay here, that he'd give her the life that he'd promised her-apple pie and babies, the perfect picket-fence life she deserved.

"Tyler, you-you can't be serious! W-What about your parents, your plans, hell, Tyler, what about me?!" Her shoulders now moved as she let out shuddering breaths, eyebrows furrowed as she grew frustrated. "Tyler Owens you promised me, you promised me a farmhouse, and a wrap-around porch, a-and babies! And now you're just gonna take off to God-knows-where to what? Storm chase?"

She stops and lets out a dry chuckle. She'd been 'chasing' with him before, vivid memories of him scaring her shitless chasing tornadoes in his truck, only to 'apologize' to her by making love in the backseat after the storm had passed. Through their time together, she, too, had grown to love the storms. Y/N took her camera into the storms with them, more than ready to capture the freakishly beautiful moments of pure disaster before it struck. She'd stand in the pouring rain next to him, laughing as wind whipped hair around her face. He'd snap a picture of her with her own camera that she'd set aside and she'd roll her eyes. They'd been happy, bonded by a mutual love of mother nature's chaos and one another. Now, she turns her back to face him, shaking her head as her bottom lip trembles.

"Ya know, I should've listened to everyone who told me to stay away from you in high school, that you'd just hurt me. I didn't believe them, not one bit, because I know you. You're running because you're scared. You don't have to run, Ty. You've never run from your fears, for God's sake you ride them! What the hell are you thinking?!"

Tears stream down her face, and Tyler feels his resolve slipping. He hadn't thought it through, not really, and now as she stands in front of him, he realizes he's only hurting her more and more. He needed an out, he needed to skip town, no matter who it hurt.

"I'm thinking that I'm a fuckin' failure at everything, no matter what I try! The only thing I'm good at is storms, chasin' them, getting close enough to see something! I fail at everything, Y/N/N, and if I stay, I'll just fail you, too. Over and over."

"Tyler, you've never failed me," she brings her hands to either side of his face, her thumb brushing a cut that still hadn't scarred over from his fall. Her eyes were blurry and her hands trembled. "Please, stay." Her voice was hardly a whisper, pleading desperately.

"You know I can't."

She nodded solemnly, wiping tears so she could take a final look into his eyes. She gave no warning when she launched her arms around his neck, all but hanging onto him like a child. He hugged her tighter than he ever had, and when she let go, he placed a final heated goodbye kiss on her lips. Y/N looks at him, her brain screaming pleas to make him stay, but she simply kisses his cheek before speaking.

"C-call me when you get there?"

He takes one last glance at her, taking her in completely, as if trying to memorize her. His eyes land on the jewelry adorning the spot just below her collarbone, the gold shining in the sunset, knowing he'd never see it on her again-if he ever even saw her again.

"You'll be the first person I call, baby."

Y/N's call never came.

She spent the summer miserable, but refused to take off the gold chain she hid under shirts. It burned her skin in a metaphorical sense, but she ignored it, just like the heartbreak that had festered into deep resentment for Tyler Owens. She'd decided to take off to the local university for a clean start, somewhere new, somewhere his ghost wouldn't haunt her. Things had begun to look up, and she found herself smiling again. The morning before her first day of classes, she almost took the chain off, but couldn't bring herself to do so.

When she spotted his tall figure sitting a row ahead of her in her Intro to Meteorology class, she pretended not to know who he was. It was only fair, he'd done the same to her. For a reason that neither of them could vocalize, they begin to hate one another. Without knowing it, Tyler had become the storm that had sparked her into chasing after danger forever, the one that had left destruction so fatal she wasn't sure if she'd ever recover.

ii.

"You've got to be kidding me."

Y/N rolls her eyes and nearly throws her laptop across her dorm room when she looks down at her field partner pairing. The name in bold stares back at her like some sick joke.

Tyler Owens.

She shuts her laptop with a force that could shatter glass and slams her face into her pillow to let out a scream that could have easily been heard four counties over. The universe had to hate her.

With one glance at her watch, she hops from her bed and packs her duffel, her camera slung around her other shoulder. After silently praying that this storm takes her away in one quick swoop, she opens the door to her room and stumbles down the stairs to the lobby, where he was waiting for her outside the double doors. She can already feel her skin flaming with anger when she catches sight of his towering frame, baseball cap thrown backwards over his head.

"'Bout fuckin' time sweetheart, thought the storm would pass before we even got out there!"

"Oh, kiss my ass, Owens."

She rolls her eyes and climbs into the red truck she had once been a permanent fixture in, feeling almost like nothing had changed since the last time she'd crawled into the passenger side. She had half a mind to let down the driver's side visor to see if her picture still sat inside it, but Tyler climbs in the second she thinks about it. The half hour drive is uncomfortable, silent, and laced with tension so thick both halves of the couple begin to wonder if the air supply is getting thin. But as the storm approaches, both of their eyes are locked on the massive twisting figure just ahead of them. Y/N reaches for her camera, focusing the lens as best as she can through the windshield of the truck. She sighs when the view is less than satisfactory. Without much thought, she begins to move the window crank on the door to let down the window.

"What the hell are you doin'?" Tyler's voice breaks their silence.

"What does it look like, Owens? Getting a better shot." Her body hangs halfway out the window, camera leaning out the window as she moves the lens and clicks.

"Get your ass in the truck, I'm not payin' your hospital bills when you fall out and I run over you."

She rolls her eyes and ignores him, almost her entire body hanging out the window.

"Okay, okay, get in the truck, I'll get you closer, Jesus."

She pulls herself back into the truck and rolls the window back up as Tyler moves forward down the muddy path, closer to the storm now building ahead. The wind and rain grow more intense, shaking even the bulky vehicle that could easily withstand even the most treacherous of conditions. The spiraling tunnel only moves at a more pummeling speed, and Y/N's sharp shout fills the air.

"Stop the truck!"

He hits the brake and before the truck even stops, Y/N's rolling out of the passenger side, camera raised as she captures a monster of a storm. Tyler finds himself silent, momentarily distracted-her hair blowing with the force of the wind, the smile drawn across her face, and the long sleeve button down she'd been wearing was slipping down her shoulders, exposing her tank top and-wait-he raises an eyebrow, his heart stopping. Against her neck sat a gold chain he knew too well. It stops him completely in his tracks, shocked that she still wore his initial around her neck. The sound of a roaring train pulls him from his thoughts and sends him leaning out his own door.

"Y/N," he's shouting over the loud winds. "GET YOUR ASS IN THE TRUCK!"

The barrel of wind only gets closer, the fierceness of wind making Tyler's heart race. The girl outside his truck, however, only smiles wider, raising her camera for another shot of the approaching storm.

"I'M FINE, TYLER. WIND'S NOT EVEN THAT BAD!"

Tyler huffs as his voice, raspy from yelling, shouts again.

"THAT WASN'T A REQUEST, SWEETHEART. GET YOUR ASS IN THIS TRUCK!"

She ignores his shouts, only squinting her eyes at the horizon as the wind picks up another notch, making the shirt now halfway down on her arms blow like a flag in the wind. Tyler gives her a minute to comply, hoping this was just a momentary phase of her being stubborn. After five minutes, Tyler cursed and stomped out of the truck over to her. He says nothing, picking her up over his shoulder.

"TYLER! WHAT THE FUCK?! PUT ME DOWN, ASSHOLE!"

He doesn't give in to her retorts, simply swinging her door open and shoving her into the passenger seat. He gets into his driver's side and slings his arm on her headrest, turning to back the truck around.

"What the hell is wrong with you?! Do you have some sort of sick kink where you get off on ruining my life? I had a perfect shot, it-"

"You had a perfect shot of getting sucked into a tornado is what you had, Y/N. You're gonna get yourself killed gettin' that fuckin' close!"

"Like you would care." Her voice isn't even a mumble, and Tyler hardly hears her over the sounds of the storm.

It sends a jab of pain through his heart he doesn't expect, and instead of saying anything, he lets her stew in anger in his passenger seat. When he drops her off at her dorm, she agrees to email him her half of the project, and a week later he receives it.

He opens the email to find exactly what he imagines, the most spectacular shots of a storm he's ever seen. After the report and photos are submitted, the two never speak to one another again. They both graduate under the same Arkansas sun, but lead different lives in the same area of the country. Y/N swears she sees his truck pass her every time she goes out to shoot, and he sees her in every girl that stands in a field with a camera.

Y/N would never admit that she has a burner account subscribed to his livestreams, or that she laughed and smiled as she watched him hoop and holler with his ragtag group of friends, memories of the chases they once went on filling her mind more fondly than painfully these days. And if she had one of the red and white shirts with his stupid cartoon face plastered against it, well, no one would ever know.

When Boone and the rest of his crew would stop for food and rest breaks, if Tyler saw her name plastered in a newspaper or magazine, he'd put it on the counter next to his plethora of snacks. He'd never admit he'd cut her articles out of them and kept them in a small scrapbook that lived in his glovebox, right next to the picture of her that once lived in his visor-only because a magazine cut-out clip of her lived there now, her smiling with a massive twin barrel storm behind her, the gold chain peeking from the shirt was wearing.

iii.

"Ty, man, this one's a beaut! She's unreal!"

Boone's voice filled Tyler's ears from the passenger seat, but as Tyler looked out at the horizon, his attention was far from the brunette that sat next to him. He saw her car before he saw her-the same rink-dink, decked out, black Subaru she'd had in college, meaning she was here on her own, not for business.

His green eyes darted to the field across from where it was parked, spotting her instantly as she stood in the tall grass, hair blowing as she brought her camera to her face, crouching down to get the perfect shot. She shook her head when she pulled back from it, enjoying the sight in front of her.

Tyler puts the truck in park and all but barrels out of the door, his boots taking him towards her, but not nearly fast enough.

"Jesus, who's that? And why's she got Ty all in a tizzy?" Boone leans over to Lilly, who gives him an incredulous look.

"That's Y/N Y/L/N, she's a storm photographer, apparently he's got some fan girl crush on her or somethin', he keeps her work in a binder."

"Holy shit! Tyler knows the Y/N Y/L/N?"

Tyler would've blushed and denied Lilly's statement vehemently, but he was too far away to hear. Instead, the whipping winds and the sound of Y/N's delightful laughter filled his ears.

"She's a beaut, huh?" Tyler's voice carries over the noise, falling on Y/N's ears. She takes a breath and turns to face him for the first time in years. She nods slowly.

"Yeah, she's gorgeous. Got some great shots."

Her throat feels dry as his eyes peer down at her. She finally braves a look up at him.

"Um, I'm not studying it or anything, just bored, really. I'll let you and your crew have her."

She gives him a small smile, but he notes it's genuine as she caps the lens on her camera.

"It was good to see you, Ty. Good luck."

"Y/N, wait. I-I need to ask you somethin'."

She pauses her steps, turning back to face the man in front of her. For a split second, he looks just like the younger version that had left her all those years ago-the hat, the belt buckle, but none of that same all consuming fear.

"Sure, go ahead."

"Why do you still wear it? I saw you, that time in college, and when you did that shoot outside of Kansas City, the picture they published of you, it-you can see it real clear."

Y/N stills, pushing back hair that's blowing in the wind as she looks at him. She could say a multitude of things-how she wore it because she'd gotten so used to always wearing it. That she wore it because she wanted to hold onto him the only way she could. She could lie and say that she used it as a good luck charm. None of them would be the truth, and she was sick of lying to him, so she simply told the truth.

"Well, all the best chasers, they carry their first storm with them, right?"

She pauses, realizing how vague that was.

"What I mean is, without you taking me through my first storm I never would've done this. I was terrified of them, and you and that stupid red truck of yours showed me how beautiful they can be, and now I capture their beauty for a living. I never would've had any of this without you, so-"

She shrugs, giving him a small chuckle. The silence suffocates as he looks at her.

"Tyler listen-"

"If you're gonna apologize, don't. I'm the one that should apologize, I left you all those years ago. That was real shitty of me, and I didn't give you a warnin' or a reason why. So, I'm sorry, for all of it."

She nods, giving him a smile. The quiet floods between them again, and she pushes back her hair again before she speaks.

"I-I watch your videos, y-your livestreams. You're still crazy, but it reminds me of when we used to chase, and you'd scare me to death, and then you'd, uh, 'apologize' for it and, sometimes it's like I'm there with you."

He laughs with her.

"I-I've got every newspaper and magazine clippin' you've ever been in. You're pictures they're-breathtakin', it feels like you're standin' in the field right there next to you. I guess that's just because I used to be and memories, ya know?"

She nodded, giving him a sweet smile, one that sends his heart racing. They both turn their attention to the horizon where the storm seems relatively calm, at least by their standards.

"Uh, Y/N? I'm sorry, I promised you somethin' all those years ago, and I never made good on it. I think about that a lot, and-just-I'm sorry."

"I forgave you a long time ago, Ty, we were kids." She pauses, tilting her head as she looks at the storm brewing. "Besides, I don't think I'm cut out for that life anymore, I like life on the road. I mean, where else do you get moments like this? The storms back home are wonders, but nothing like this."

"I agree with you there," he chuckles. His heart pounds, and the words slip out of his mouth before he can stop them. "I miss you though."

She cuts her eyes to his own, as if waiting for him to explain himself.

"You were my original chasin' partner, ya know? Plus, when things got scary, you never flinched, not really. This reporter I've got now? God help us all, can't stand much more than a strong wind."

Y/N laughs loudly before she shakes her head.

"Well, you might be in luck. I hate working for that magazine, I really, really do." She turns to face him, camera pulled close to her chest. "The Tornado Wranglers hiring? I'm looking for a job. I have a portfolio if you need it, references too."

Her statement is laced with sarcasm.

Tyler finds himself laughing now, a wide smile plastered across his face.

"I'm familiar with your work, have it on good graces that you're just what we're lookin' for. Lucky for you, we've always got room for one more, that is, if you'll have us. I gotta warn you, those over there are a handful."

"If they're anything like you, I'm likely to fall in love with them instantly."

Y/N doesn't register the words stumbling out of her mouth until they'd already filled the air between them. Without a word, Tyler grabs her hand, pulling her in closer than people who have a history like theirs should. His calloused fingers reach out to the gold pendant lying on her neck, moving it back and forth between its fingers. It had withstood their time apart-it was scratched and a little weather-worn, but, then again, so were they.

"The clasp broke about a year ago, the rest is all original. Pure gold, willing to sell it for a good offer. The guy at the pawn tried to undersell me, I know what I've got."

Tyler's chest warms, that sarcastic, witty humor he'd missed back in full force.

"Do you take alternate forms of payment?" He pulls her in by her waist with a cocky grin.

"Depends, Owens, what did you have in mind?"

He cocks his eyebrow, giving her a sort of contemplative look as his hands rest on the small of her back, hers around his neck.

"Well, I still owe you about-," He lifts his hand from around her and pretends to count on his fingers. "A billion apologies, we could chase this stunner of a storm, drop these characters back off at the motel, find us an empty field, and I could apologize like I used to...maybe?"

She shakes her head and pulls him in for a heated kiss. They're both smiling so hard its hardly a kiss, but the feelings are there.

"You've got yourself a deal, but I'm keeping the necklace."

"Wouldn't have it any other way, baby." He kisses her head, pulling her back towards his group of friends, who were now whistling at the pair, obviously catching the interaction. "Fair warning, after he finds out just who you are, Boone's likely to fall in love with you."

She raises her eyebrow, pulling away and heading towards the motley crew ahead of her.

"Guess you'll just have to chase me next."

taglist:

@fraaaaankiiiiieee

#tyler owens x reader #tyler owens #twisters #glen powell #Tyler Owens x you #glen powell x reader #glen powell x you

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cherrygirlfriend · 2 months ago

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touchy subject pairing: reader x exfiancé!rafe synopsis: seeing your ex-fiancé after four years. warnings: angst, some fluff, mentions of a miscarriage, just pure agony! wc: 1.8k inspired by the song 'touchy subject' by peach prc. part 2

a white baby gate fixed in my hallway stays haunting the house with the angels we made; sometimes, i dream, a decade away, we meet in a grocery store; you look the same, with just a few grey hairs. the blonde little girl who tugs on your shirt with your smile looks nothing like me.

it had been four years since you had last been on kildare island; four years of trying to forget the life, or the ruined bones of one, that you'd been escaping from.

after ending your engagement with your fiancé, you'd traveled all around the country in your beat-up truck, hoping to find a place where you'd belong; only to end up back in the outer banks. they say there's no place like home, and in a way, it was true. you can leave kildare island, but kildare island will never leave you.

"everything okay?"

you're startled out of your thoughts by the melodic sound of your mother's voice, and when she follows your gaze to the baby-gate attached to the door leading to the kitchen, her mouth twists into a frown. "i was meant to take that down before you got here..." she chewed on her lower lip, a pang of guilt almost punching her in the chest.

"it's fine." you shrug, trying to lift the ends of your lips into a smile, only for it to look artificial and rehearsed. "i should start unpacking."

"alright." your mother placed her hand on your shoulder, but should've been a comforting gesture, made you feel like you were underwater and the hand was simply pushing you deeper.

you stood alone in the living room of your apartment, the only thing to be heard of was the ticking of the clock your mother had already mounted on the clock, mixed in with the sounds of passing cars, so unlike the day you first moved into the apartment, yet so much like the day you were last there.

"you should keep the apartment."

"rafe, i can't do that. it's way too much, and i'm leaving-"

"it's already in your name." the man sighed, smoothing his hand over his shaved head; he looked so different than usual, the dark bags under his eyes making him look like he had aged ten years, his usually tan face almost pale. "you can do whatever you want with it. keep it, sell it, i don't care. it's yours. i never want to step foot in this place again."

your feet were almost moving on their own, the hardwood floor cold under your feet, leading you to that door, and even though you felt your blood run cold, every cell of your body telling you not to open it, you couldn't help but nudge the door open.

you didn't know what you were expecting.

stepping into the room, you let your hand trail over the soft-pink wall, still remembering the smell of paint.

"you know, you shouldn't be doing that." he sighed, leaning against the doorway. "i can just hire someone to paint the walls."

you roll your eyes, your denim overalls covered in the soft pink paint as the paint stained the white wall, "i want to do this. i'm not gonna hire someone to do everything for me when i'm perfectly fine doing it on my own."

"you're not-"

"hush." you pointed the paint roller at rafe, "i'm doing this. now pick up a paint roller or quit whining."

you look down at the crib, lined with white lace, picking up the brown teddy bear that used to belong to you when you were a child, brushing your hand over the fur, straightening the pink bow around its neck.

hung above the crib, was a picture of a couple that had just gotten engaged, wide smiles on both of their faces; a couple that had once been so familiar to you, but now, it was like you couldn't recognize either of the people in the photos.

it felt like everyone was staring at you as they walked past you; four years clearly hadn't been long enough to make the people of outer banks forget about you, and as you made your way towards the local cafe, you couldn't help but think about how long it'd take for the person you didn't want to know you were in town to find out.

you were strolling down the street, rafe's hand in yours, your fingers intertwined. you licked the ice cream cone, deep in thought, letting rafe take the lead.

"what's going through that pretty head of yours?" he chuckled softly, bringing your hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it, your engagement ring glimmering under the sunlight.

"baby names." you shrug, "what should we name her?"

"do you have any names in mind?"

"i was thinking..." you pursed your lips, not sure if the name you had been considering would be appropriate or not, chewing on your lower lip as you turn your head to face your fiancé, an expectant smile on his lips and his brows lifted in question, "evelyn."

when the name left your lips, you saw his mouth fall open, and for a moment you thought that you never should've spoken, but after rafe cleared his throat, there was a clear smile on his lips, his blue eyes glassy.

"you- you uh, wanna name her after my mom?"

"yeah." you smile, squeezing his hand. "i do."

for the millionth night, you were laid in bed, looking through pictures, featuring the faces of the couple above the crib in the room next door. pictures with the man's arms wrapped around the woman's waist, ones of them holding hands, ones where one was pressing a kiss the other person's cheek, ones from the several midsummers parties they spent together, ones from halloween, thanksgiving, christmas...

the girl in the dress she had planned to wear on her wedding day.

"rafe, where are you taking me?" you laughed, the blindfold covering your eyes, "if the blindfold's for some kinky purpose, you better forget about it."

rafe laughed, continuing to lead you, his large hands on your waist, "come on, have a little faith in me. i'm not that bad, am i?"

"oh, you definitely are. just last week we were an hour late to ava's party because you just thought i was irresistible."

rafe snorted, "well, that's because you were." he pressed a kiss on your cheek, "you can take it off." he whispered, taking a step away from you.

untying the blindfold, you blinked a few times, letting yourself get used to actually being able to see again, only to be startled by the sight of your boyfriend on one knee in front of you, a small velvet box in his hand, "rafe...?"

you wiped away the stray tear that had left your eye without permission before it could reach your jaw, continuing to scroll through the pictures, knowing that it'd be yet another sleepless night, but when you saw a picture of her, you paused.

you weren't sure who was more nervous, you or rafe, even though you were the one in the examination chair, your shirt pulled up and your rounded stomach on full display. his hand was tightly gripping yours, the man's jaw clenched.

"let's take a look, shall we?" the ultrasound technician smiled, and you nodded, feeling her spread the cold gel onto your stomach, a slight yelp leaving your lips, making rafe squeeze your hand even tighter. you looked to him, nodding reassuringly, speaking softly, "it's okay."

rafe's grip loosened slightly and he softened his grip, both of you turning your heads to the screen, and the moment you saw the little lump on the screen, you couldn't help but feel tears stinging in your eyes.

"look. that's our baby."

"shit..." rafe stared at the screen wide-eyed, letting out a low breath, "that's our baby."

just like on any average day on the island, the sun was shining, your skin radiating with warmth as you walked down the street, looking in through shop windows; it had been a few days since you'd first stepped outside, and it seemed like your arrival had become widespread news, and you didn't receive as many stares as you did before.

you arrived at rafe's door, bringing your hand up and pounding on the door before you could stop yourself and chicken out for the third time that week. you were a wreck, unable to sleep, to think about anything other than how much you knew you needed to talk to rafe.

you waited, tapping your foot against the ground and biting down on your lip, when finally, the door slowly started opening, a small smile forming on rafe's lips when he realized that it was you.

"hey baby," he chuckled softly, placing his hands on your waist, "you miss me so much you couldn't even text me to let you know you were coming?" he grinned.

"i have to talk to you." you pull away from his embrace, taking his hands off your waist, the blonde looking down at you with furrowed brows, crossing his arms in front of his broad chest, clearly alarmed by the slight frown on your lips.

"what's wrong?"

"i'm pregnant."

without even realizing it, you had stopped in front of a jewelry store, gazing inside at the things on display as you were going down memory lane inside your head. you let out a small chuckle, about to step back and continue walking, when your blood ran cold, the smile fading away from your face, feeling as if someone had stabbed you in the heart.

to anyone else, it would've just been the backs of two random people. but even without seeing his face, you could recognize the only man you'd ever loved no matter where you went.

his short-sleeved white collared shirt was tucked into his dark jeans, riding up slightly as he ran a hand through his hair, having grown out slightly since the last time you'd seen it, his signet ring on his middle finger.

you saw him let out a chuckle, and you could almost picture how it'd sound, his hand going to rest on the back of the person he was with.

a younger woman smiled up at him, and even just from her side profile, you could tell that she was gorgeous, her flaming hair flowing over her shoulders, the smile on her face genuine, matching his.

and when you saw what she was holding up and showing to him, the knife in your chest was twisted.

an engagement ring.

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sanemistar · 2 months ago

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i won’t let you go — satoru gojo

contains ★ satoru x gn!reader, established relationship, angst to fluff, petnames (baby, love, babe, etc.), 1k wc. ﾉ requested for my milestone event.

event m.list ★ jjk m.list

ever since you and satoru have started dating, you heard a lot of gossip and side talks from people around you about how he's never been faithful to any of his past lovers, how he lets them go after less than six months, saying that he no longer finds them interesting, that he's done being with them, how he's never truly loved and probably never will be able to love anyone. that he's a selfish man who's nothing but a player who toys with people's hearts then tosses them away when it's all over. and you’re no exception, as it’s only a matter of time before you meet the same fate as them.

he'll let you go and forget about you as if you two have never met, because satoru gojo is incapable of loving anyone.

however, you pay no attention to these words. and even if what they say is true, you still refuse to believe that it's anything but mere nonsense. and decide to fully trust satoru like you always do.

because the satoru you know and love, the man you're dating right now, your loving boyfriend, is deeply and madly in love with you. the way he kisses you ever so passionately, how he whispers the sweetest of love words to you all the time, and how he holds you in his arms tightly every night as you doze off to sleep listening to his heartbeat. no way he's leaving you, is it? you're certain of that. after all, he's promised that he'll always love you, that he'll never leave your side no matter what, that he'll never let you be alone without him. because he can't live without you.

he finds comfort in you, you're his home as he claims. and you feel the same way about him, you can't live without him either.

although, you try your best to brush these thoughts off. you can't help but wonder if it's true that he'll let you go the same way he did with the ones before you, that he'll break all these promises about being together forever.

unaware, you let these thoughts consume you as you slowly drown in sorrow.

your head starts spinning as you begin imagining the moment he breaks it down for you that he's leaving, that he no longer wants to be with you, that he's done with you. and your stomach is instantly clenched in a knot. you feel a painful pang in your heart as it gets heavier and heavier by the second.

just when you’re about to get completely lost in your thoughts, you feel a soft touch on your shoulder. you turn around and it’s none other than satoru. he cheekily smiles at you, but his cheerful expression quickly changes into a concerned, panicked one the second you start crying.

“…toru.” you sniffle as you start sobbing uncontrollably, hot tears begin to overflow out of your now red eyes like how water flows from an overfilled cup. he rests his hand on your cheek, his thumb caresses your skin delicately as he leans in. he presses feather like kisses on your face and eyes, gently kissing your salty tears away.

“why’s my baby cryin’? what’s wrong, love?” he questions, his tone is a mix of tenderness and concern. a worried look is shown in his ocean blue eyes, it pains him tremendously seeing your teary eyes and sad face, he simply can’t stand it.

you blink, eyelashes wet from crying so much. and you pause momentarily, hesitant to let the words come out of your mouth.

“i just… thought about you possibly.. leaving me alone and..” you utter in between your sniffles, lips slightly twitching. satoru doesn’t let you continue and cuts you off mid sentence.

what you don’t know is, satoru needs you far more than you need him. you're the only one who loves him for who he is as just an ordinary human and not the strongest, you allow him to be himself freely without any restrictions, he doesn't have to fake anything around you. and most importantly, you’re the one who’s introduced him to love, you’ve shown him what it’s like to truly love someone. so leaving you has never been an option to him. the thought has never crossed his mind, not even once.

"babe listen, ‘kay?” he speaks tenderly as he rests his other hand on your cheek, cupping your face in his big hands as he brings you closer to him. eyes pierced on one another, locked in an unwavering gaze, as if you're staring into one another's soul.

“no way i’m leavin’ you, not now, not ever. so don't think about that anymore, 'kay? we’re stuck together for life." he reassures you, the tone of his voice is so soft and sweet, yet affirmative and serious. he then slightly brushes his nose against yours and it tickles you a little before his hands let go of your face, only to pull you in his arms instead. your eyes widen for a split second before you rest your head gently against his broad, well toned chest. your hands grip the back of his shirt tightly, holding onto him for dear life as you steady yourself listening to his calming heartbeat. his slender fingers delicately run through your hair while pressing a series of quick, loving pecks on the top of your head.

he smiles the moment he feels you relax in his embrace. to satoru, you being in his arms as he feels your warmth against his skin is everything he’s ever needed. as long as you’re here with him, that’s more than enough for him, he doesn’t need anything or anyone else.

“i won’t let you go.” he whispers ever so softly against your ear, his voice rings in your ears like a sweet melody. and you hum quietly, smiling against his chest as your eyes slowly shut in relief. you let yourself trust him once more as his earnest words wash over the little doubts that have been there.

𝜗𝜚 taglist: @sylusdoll @stunies @itoshivy @hanaeriin @spkyssn @17020 @kalsplace

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uravichii · 10 months ago

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"best friends who kiss?"

character/s: bakugo katsuki

summary: recently, your best friend has been kissing you at random times. you have no idea why because he refuses to talk about it. either way, you're not about to let this to ruin your precious friendship.

genre & trope: fluff, best friends to lovers, angry confessions, reader is terrified of love but bakugo wants them so bad 😁, tw kind of ooc bakugo

a/n: i've been watching a lot of pride & prejudice and bridgerton scenes n i'm now obsessed angry confessions 🤩 + this is heavily inspired by that scene in little women :) ALSO i haven't posted in a year 😟 so pls be nice ik my writing's rusty in this :'D

the first time bakugou katsuki kissed you, he pretended he never did.

"what... " you brush your fingers against your bottom lip, your whole face hot. "what the hell was that for?"

"what?" bakugo shrugs, feigning innocence as he takes a swig of his soda.

you try and trace back the events that could have led to the kiss.

you said something along the lines of: "i wish i had a boyfriend. i could definitely pull a cute guy off the street."

then you heard him scoff and say: "no man's sane enough to put up with your insufferable ass." ーor something more insulting than that.

you can't remember what you said in response, and you rack your brain to figure out what prompted him to grab your face and kiss you. it's impossible when all you can think about is the unexpected supple feel of his lips, its faint ghost still lingering on yours.

"that kiss, katsuki! you violated my mouth!"

"dunno what you're talking about. you hit your head or something?"

you blink and second-guess yourself for a second.

"okay, no. you're not gonna gaslight your way out of this." you swat his arm, earning an irked glare from him. "why the hell did you kiss me?"

"you're imagining things, idiot. this stupid game's givin' ya some serious brain damage for sure."

he stands up and swings his bag over his shoulder.

"where are you going? we're not done yetー!"

and he's out of the door.

was he drunk off his soda? maybe he kissed you to mess with your head. he's not that cruel though, you think. maybe he couldn't think of any other way to shut you upー that was something he always struggled with after all.

at least the second time bakugo katsuki kissed you, he was kind enough to warn you.

after enduring the most awkward hour-long study session with him, you decide to put an end to your agony by wrapping it up. you start gathering your things when he stops you with a calloused hand on your wrist.

"what?" you turn to him, your cheeks already heating up from his touch.

there are no thoughts you could read behind those vermillion eyes, and all of a sudden, you don't know your best friend very well anymore.

he walks some tentative steps closer to you until the back of your knees hit the table. he cradles your jaw with such delicacy you didn't even know he was capable of. he slips past your awaiting lips and presses his nose on the side of your head, his warm breath kissing your flushed skin.

"punch me in the face and scram if you don't want this, got it?"

you gulp and forget to answer if not for the gentle squeeze on your wrist. "y/n, you got it?"

"s-sure."

when you two kiss, it's different from last time. it's unhurried, curious, and so intoxicating. the kiss speaks: 'i want you. i want you. i want you' but whose thoughts are these?

he groans into your lips as if to urge you to keep up with the sheer hungriness that has consumed him. you try your best to do so as he deepens the kiss with a palm on the back of your head and practically drinks you in. he doesn't pull away until he hears the tiny whine that escapes you.

"shit, sorry." he mutters, avoiding your stunned gaze.

"t's okay."

"did i hurt you?" the quiet lilt of his voice surprises you.

"no, no. i'm okay, but why'd you kiー"

"bye." he blurts out as he turns to the door and leaves, as if he didn't just invaded your mouth and permanently tainted the years of friendship you two have had. you click your tongue as the heat subsides in your cheeks.

"son of a bitch."

the third time bakugo katsuki kissed you, you let him, and he didn't stop.

you had barely escaped death when you lost your footing while sparring with todoroki. naturally, bakugo yelled the poor guy's ear off and would have murdered him if eraserhead hadn't interfered at the last second.

now, you find yourself heaving in your bed. you don't know whether your hastened pulse is from the adrenaline rush or from the fact that bakugo is all over you right now.

he's planting feather-light kisses all over youー your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, your eyelids, your hands, and your wrist, as panicked murmurs spill out of him in between kisses. 'you scared the hell out of me. you have no idea, fuck. are you okay? are you really okay? tell me you're okay, y/n.'

"i'm okayー" you barely manage to gasp before he dips his lips into yours, desperate and frantic. tremulous hands find solace in your hips as he holds you, gentle enough not to mar your injuries but snug enough to assure his restless heart that you are safe.

your head feels hazy. your limbs ache and lie motionless, and though your lips could barely move to reciprocate his kisses as much as you wanted to, bakugo didn't stop. you tried to ask him about it the next morning, but of course, he ignored you and walked away.

you don't know when he stopped kissing you that night. all you know is that there was a line that was crossed, and your friendship was never going to be the same again.

bakugo katsuki is going to kiss you again. your heart thrums incessantly. whether it's dread or anticipationー you don't know.

you think about the sensation of his lips that's become so familiar to you that you've learned to crave it. it shouldn't be familiar to you, and you sure as hell shouldn't want it. so you do what you think is necessary.

you kick him in the shin.

"motherfー!" sure enough, he's pissed. "what the hell is wrong with you?!"

"what the hell is wrong with you?!"

"i was going toー"

"no! you're not gonna kiss me again and walk away and pretend it never happened. you're messing with my head, katsuki! it's not funny!"

"wasn't trying to be funny!" he barks back.

"okay, so what exactly are you trying to do? what is this? i meanー" you stammer, struggling to find the words. "katsuki, what are we?"

he sighs and shifts his stance, his discomfort apparent. when the silence lingers on for too long, you speak.

"well, whatever it is that you want from me, we're going to stay friends. nothing more, nothing less. that's it." your breath hitches, and you don't know why you feel like crying as you speak. "... so i don't want your stinky mouth anywhere on me again."

silence weighs heavily between you. sometimes you wish you didn't know him too well, then the hurt he veils in his eyes wouldn't be so plain and vivid to you, and you would have walked away by now without an ounce of remorse.

"i like you, y/n." is all he could say when he finally speaks.

you shake your head. "no, you're just confused."

"i'm not confused. i like you."

"katsuki, you've been bitchless all your life, and i'm just the closest thing to a s/o. maybe go take a walk or something."

"i like you." he persists. "i've liked your stupid ass forー"

"stop saying that. you don't."

"i do, and you like me tooー"

"what?!" you laugh incredulously.

'who does this dumbass think he is?' is he right? surely, he's not. then what are you so afraid of in the first place? why have you been counting down the days until he kisses you again? why do you yearn for his touch as if it's something you own? why do you feel so infuriated and so tormented when he leaves the room after kissing you?

you do what is necessary again.

"you're delusional!" you yell at his face, a childish shrill that's awfully familiar to your childhood best friend.

"jesus christ." he inhales sharply in frustration. "you're a fucking pussy, y/n."

you clench your jaw and match his glare. anger surges in your chest and bleeds into your voice.

"i'm not the one who chickens out after kissing their best friend! you can't even acknowledge the fact that you kissed me because you'reー!"

"do you think i want to chicken out? why do you think i run away after kissing you?! if i stayed and confessed all this shit the first time, you would've refused to hear it like the damn coward you are!" he leans close to you, his voice lowering into a ragged snarl that quickens your pulse. "and you're just proving it right now, y/n. you're always going to shut this down and deny your feelings because you're a fucking pussy. you're terrified of relationships, and it's dumbest shit ever. pathetic, really."

you rear back from his words. if anything, you always thought it was katsuki who was afraid of love. now, you can't help but feel small and vulnerable underneath his searing gaze.

"it's not dumb..." you shuffle uncomfortably. "what, i'm supposed to ruin our friendship for a relationship that we're going to break off anyway?"

"we're not going to break it off."

"how do you know that?"

"because i'll be the best goddamn boyfriend in the world!"

"first of all, gross." you scoff. "second of all, it's never gonna work out! you're going to get sick of me in three days max."

"i've known you since we were brats, and i still want you."

"you literally said no man's sane enough to put up with my obnoxious ass."

he smirks. "i said 'insufferable ass'."

"katsuki!" you fight the urge to strangle him and punch that stupid smile off his face.

"wasn't even serious that time." he grimaces and reluctantly continues. "you know damn well you can pull any guy you want, and he'd be the luckiest bastard on earth."

if it were any other day, you'd grin at him and say 'i told you so,' but your lips remain unmoved, and your eyes stay dim. you're afraid you'll never go back to being the same katsuki and y/n again.

"this is pointless, katsuki. i mean, look! we're already fighting." you grouch and tell yourself you don't want this. "i still don't want us to happen so while this friendship is still salvable, let's agree to stay friends, and whatever sappy shit you feel for meー suck it up."

in one swift motion, he closes the distance between you, his face hovering dangerously over yours.

"suck it up?" he breathes, his face taut in frustration. "restraining myself from you is the hardest shit i've ever had to do. it takes everything in me not to kiss your stupid face!"

he shudders, weakly resting his forehead against yours as if this conversation alone has exhausted him. still, he goes on.

"and everytime i failedー everytime i kissed those lips, it was... a moment of weakness, but that's the fucking problemー you're just..." he buries his face into the crook of your neck, a desperate attempt to escape your wide-eyed gaze. "i'm weak for you, y/n. every second. and it drives me fucking insane that you keep running away from me."

he rises to meet your eyes again. the cadence of his voice changes into something weak and desperate, stripped of all the pride and anger he's ever known.

"i love youー fuck. i love you." he lets the words hang in the air, letting the words hear itself spoken because for once, you're not stopping him. "i love you, so please... let me."

after much thought and another agonizing minute of silence, you lean in to kiss bakugo katsuki.

he kisses back almost instantly and revels in the way you wrap your arms around his neck and bear your weight on him completely. he kisses back ardently, his pent-up desires and years of longing etched in the way he seeks your lips, kiss after kiss after kiss.

when you finally pull away, you're met with a devilish smirk, his begging eyes long gone. you wonder to yourself when you'll see those eyes again.

"took ya long enough." he kisses you again. he raises a brow at the way you're caging him in your arms. "jesus, no one's gonna snatch me from you."

"i'm making sure you don't run away again, dumbass."

"i won't." he says earnestly as he props his forehead against yours. "and you won't either. i'll make sure of that."

you nod your head with a giddy smile as he pecks your lips again.

"so..." you say as you exaggerate a pensive look, a cheeky grin spreading across your face. "we're best friends who occasionally kiss?"

he rolls his eyes. "you're impossible."

"recite that speech again, and i'll consider calling you my boyfriend."

"fuck off!"

TAGLIST [1/2] @uxavity @joy-the-reader @kiiraes @escapenightmare @afk-dreaminq @avocamich @theboredvee @wonderwrench @ur-local-simp @p-ol @x0xuglyh0tgrl2005xoxo @cosmonettica @melin-oe @mitzi127 @lilac-o @r2katsu @bakucumsackslut @idunnomynamesince2005 @astralwaifu @taurus852 @creepyproxies @maycat-19-142 @stella-fleurets @veenxys @devilgirlcrybabiey @drawingaddict @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @lexiv-web @angelshimaa @izukus-gf @christiansdior @homosexualjohnwayne @uwiuwi @hirugummies @cupidines @loveisningning (bold couldn't be tagged)

#bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x you #bakugo x you #bnha x reader #bnha x you #mha x reader #mha x you #bakugo katsuki drabbles #bakugo drabbles #bnha drabbles #bnha imagines #mha imagines #bakugo fluff #bakugo katsuki fluff #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons

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yuvany · 3 months ago

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HEART SHAPED EYES

꒰ 𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐍 when they're caught admiring you ꒱

OT7 ENHYPEN x f ! reader CONTENT / WARNING(S) fluff WORD COUNT : 976 CHECK BOX !!

don't forget to reblog or like if you liked this !

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚

"You look like a fool, Heeseung." His friend, Riki commented with a cackle and cheeky grin. "You don't get it, you're too young." Heeseung snaps back, his eyes still trailing your figure as you walk around the library with your friends whilst looking at books, giggling amongst yourselves. "If you really love her, just go and confess." Heeseung shakes his head with a click of his tounge. "I can't." "Then don't stare at her like you two are already together." Riki rolls his eyes and snaps his fingers in his face to wake his friend from his trance that you had unintentionally set him under. "I'm not staring!" He calls out, a bit too loud, accidentally making you and your friends' heads turn to him.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚

He had stayed behind after their training session to 'catch-up' on his own. The others believed him and told him goodnight before heading to their own rooms. Jay hums to himself and groove along to the songs he had been singing. Jay takes a deep breath and picks up his phone to send you a message. As he clicks the send button, he sprung up and throws his phone onto the bags for a cushioned landing before running around the studio. After calming down, he sits in front of the mirror and looks at himself before talking with himself. "y/n, you are so pretty and funny-" before he manages to finish, he hears the door creak open and Jake walks inside with a stunned face. "I heard that." "No you didn't." Jake then bursts out laughing.

��𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡

He had created a playlist just for you, though it was more like a playlist inspired or meant for you since he never had the courage to confess his feeling. The playlist was labelled with your initial and a heart, and set on private so that no one, absolutely no one, would figure out his little secret. Jake had been playing the same playlist for what seemed to be over a week by now, but he could never get tired of it. One day though, he shared his airpod with Sunghoon. "This song is nice. What is it called?" He asked, and Jake carelessly handed his phone over to Sunghoon who looked at the screen, his eyes noticing the title of the playlist. "Am I seeing this correct?" Jake starts getting sweaty and gulps. "What?" "The name of the playlist is very...how do I say this." Jake snatches his phone back, cutting him off.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗡

You had tagged along for their photoshoot to help when needed. It all seemed to go smoothly, everyone knowing what to do and the day's schedule. You had gone onto your phone, trying to find something to entertain you when Sunghoon walks up to you. He clears his throat nervously. You look up and raise an eyebrow. "Hey y/n." Sunghoon stands there awkwardly with his hands on the sides of his body. "Hi Hoon. Need something?" You ask. "Could you help me with this tie, please." He says and hands you a navy and white striped tie. "Of course." You smile, and stand up from your seat. As you tie it around his neck, his eyes are glued to your face and slowly trail down to your lips. Of course Jake had to bump into his shoulder just then and give him a smirk.

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢

Everyone was gathered behind the scene, you as their special guest and vip to be able to support them from behind the stage. Everyone poses at the sound of their manager counting down and then the camera snaps. The two youngest run over and inspect the photo closely before calling the rest over as well. You take a quick glance at it and approve of it. "Could you send it to me later, please?" You ask, and they nod. You then take a look at the time and say farewell because you need to be part of the crowd, and they let you go after handshakes and hugs. "Sunoo, look here." Riki taps Sunoo on the shoulder and points to him in the photo where he is looking at something. "What is it?" Sunoo asks, and Jungwon who at first was confused finally seemed to connect the dots and balled up in laughter. Riki's pointer travles to where Sunoo's eyes are, and they led to you.

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡

"You're doing it again." Sunoo sighs from beside him. Jungwon looks at him puzzled and then turn around again, trying to remember what he was doing. "Doing what?" He asks. Sunoo diverts his eyes over to you before looking at him again. When Jungwon doesn't get it, Sunoo repeats it again, but a lot faster and aggrevated. Sunoo sighs before leaning over to whisper to Jungwon, "You've been staring at her for a while. Again." When Sunoo parts he sees that Jungwon's eyes have been connected with you again. "So?" He asks. "So...it's creepy." Sunoo wrinkles his forehead in confusion and looks inbetween you and Jungwon before groaning and giving up.

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜

When rehearsing, Riki finds himself turing to you for feedback and opinions even though he is a lot more of an exppert when it comes to dancing than you. "It literally looks perfect, not sure what input I should make?" You comment, shifting your weight from one leg to another as you speak with him, your eyes shifting around the room's ceiling. "Really? Thanks." He says and spins around, letting you be for a while. As he is faced away from you, he has a grin on his face. The rest of his group members stare at him with wide eyes as they look around to see if anyone else was seeing what they were seeing. "What?" Riki hisses after noticing. "You're lovetsruck and it shows bro."

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senascoop · 3 months ago

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☁︎ . , IN HIS ARMS , S.JY !

PAIRING: boyfriend ! jake × girlfriend ! afab reader. SYNOPSIS: when jake just can't get enough of your touch and keeps clinging by your side even when you wish he wouldn't. GENRE: fluff, drabble. WARNING(S): kisses, hugs, not proofread, pure fluff. WORD COUNT: 591. [ARCHIVE]

♫︎ REBLOGS + FEEDBACKS ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED

“Jake, let go,” you murmured, feeling the familiar weight of his arms wrapping around your waist from behind. You were seated at your desk, textbooks and notes sprawled out before you, but concentration was impossible with him so close. His chin rested on your shoulder, his soft breath tickling your neck.

He tightened his hold, nuzzling his face against your hair. “But I don’t want to,” he whispered, his voice muffled but laced with that playful clinginess you couldn't resist. You could feel his smile against your skin as he pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder, his fingers lazily tracing patterns over your stomach.

“You need to let me study,” you sighed, trying to sound stern but failing miserably as his warmth seeped into you, making it hard to focus on anything but him. His scent, the feel of his arms—it was all too comforting, too distracting.

“I’ll be quiet,” he mumbled, his voice soft as he cuddled closer, legs tangling with yours beneath the chair, as if that would make you forget he was there. You rolled your eyes but smiled, heart fluttering at how needy he was for your touch.

“Jake,” you muttered again, but there was no conviction behind your words, and he knew it. He grinned, tightening his arms around you once more, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “I just want to be close to you.”

And with that, your studies were all but forgotten. You sighed, giving up the fight, and leaned back into his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath beneath you. “You’re impossible, you know that?” you muttered, but a soft laugh escaped your lips as you felt him grin against your neck.

“I know,” Jake whispered, his voice teasing, “but you love it.” He placed a gentle kiss on your cheek, his lips barely grazing your skin as he shifted his position slightly to pull you even closer, like he could never get enough.

Your hands fell to his, now resting comfortably over your stomach. You absentmindedly traced small circles on the back of his hand, his touch so familiar and comforting. “How am I supposed to study when you’re like this?” you asked, sounding more amused than frustrated now, the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth betraying you.

Jake let out a soft chuckle. “I’m just here for moral support,” he teased, resting his chin on your shoulder again. “You’re the one who keeps getting distracted.”

You raised an eyebrow, finally turning your head to look at him. “Me? Distracted?” you said, feigning innocence. “You’re literally clinging to me like a koala.”

He shrugged, unbothered, and gave you a mischievous smile. “Maybe because you’re my favorite tree,” he said, his playful tone making you laugh as he leaned in to plant another kiss on your cheek.

“Jake!” you whined, trying to suppress your laughter, but it was no use. His playfulness was contagious, and soon enough, you were giggling along with him.

“You know you like it,” he said, his tone softening as he kissed your temple this time, his lips lingering. “I just want to be close to you.”

You sighed again, this time in contentment, and turned in your chair to face him properly, your arms wrapping around his neck as you met his gaze. “Fine, you win,” you said, pressing your forehead against his. “Just… maybe a little less clinging next time, okay?”

Jake chuckled softly, his eyes full of affection as he pulled you onto his lap. “No promises.”

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ugh-yoongi · 4 months ago

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ex-conomics | csc

you supported seungcheol through years of being an aspiring athlete, and all you got to show for it was your undergraduate degree and an awkward, stuttered apology when he dumped you to go semi-pro. now he’s back after an injury derailed his career, and there’s only one problem: you’re the only one available to tutor him. you - 0; the universe - 1. talk about no return on investment.

⚽ pairing: choi seungcheol x f. reader ⚽ genre: exes to (lite) enemies to lovers; university au; angst, fluff ⚽ rating: while there is nothing explicit in this fic, there are two brief references to smut. while i can't stop anyone from reading this, i would prefer minors do not interact with this or any of my work. ⚽ warnings: cheol is some degree of famous, reader is a grad student/TA, mentions of an injury and coping with the aftermath of it, lots of economics talk that even i do not understand, swearing, one mention of alcohol, some misplaced jealousy, rom-com tropes, dino is kind of a loser but we love him anyway. probably a lot of other things i missed, but this is actually pretty tame for a fic of this length. ⚽ word count: 13.4k ⚽ thank you: a lot of people looked this over for me in the process and i'm sure i will forget some of them so if i do i'm sorry: @the-boy-meets-evil, @hot-soop, @highvern, and @haologram, who also gave me some wonderful ideas for the vlogs. thank you to MIT for opencourseware existing. i took microeconomics and dropped it, so i couldn't have done this without you. everyone in the discord server for helping me along the way and keeping me motivated. ⚽ author's note: i haven't posted a fic in nearly seven months, so i think it goes without saying that there are parts of this i like and a lot more i'm not 100% happy with. i'd love if this was more fleshed out and 10k longer, but i was able to write anything at all so it's good enough. this was written for the back to school with seventeen collab, hosted by @camandemstudios. thank you both for letting me participate! please make sure to check out the rest of the stories! everyone worked so hard and this collab was a ton of fun to participate in. <3

You look down at the paper. Back up at who handed it to you. Down at the paper again.

“You’ve got to be joking.”

The poor freshman kid laughs, all nerves, and even though the sound is grating, you remember what it’s like to be forced into work study. How far away graduate school seemed; how large your professors loomed over you with all their power and knowledge and credentials; how you constantly felt like the dumbest person in nearly every room you walked into for four straight years.

“Um—”

You sigh, just barely resisting the urge to slam your head onto your desk. “I—it’s fine, don’t worry about it.” Your words do little to ease Freshman’s nerves. He’s still hunched over in the doorway of your office, wringing his hands as he shifts his weight back and forth, in for a lifetime of body pain with the way he’s squaring his shoulders. “You’re sure about this, though? Like, I’m really not being set up?”

“I don’t think so?” he offers, slowly starting to turn green right before your eyes. “Dr. Lee ga-gave me the paperwork himself, I don’t think he would’ve messed it up? Oh no, did I mess it up? Should I go back to Student Services and conf—”

Good god, this kid’s anxiety is gonna stink up your office for weeks. “No need!” you interject. “I’ll just…” Sign it, you want to say, but the longer you stare at the sheet of paper the quicker you’re losing your resolve.

TUTORING REQUEST FORM Student Name: Choi Seungcheol Degree: Undergraduate Major: Business Course: ECON04101 Introduction to Microeconomics Instructor: Lee Yeonseok, PhD. Recommended Tutoring: High (3-4 hours per week)

You curse under your breath. Of the two names on the paper, Dr. Lee’s does not come as a surprise. He’s a notorious hard-ass with an infamous attrition rate—most students don’t last more than a week in any of his classes—but he’s also the sole reason you were able to pay for someof your grad school tuition out of pocket with all the tutoring money you made.

That, however, was two years ago.

“Does he know I don’t tutor anymore?” Stupid question. The kid stares blankly back at you, as if to say I don’t know any more than the people in Student Services, let alone Dr. Lee. It is literally my first year here. “I’m Dr. Ahn’s TA this year. I’ve got my hands full with her bullsh… stuff—”

Immediately, you know you’ve said something wrong, because the kid’s eyes light up, all that previous anxiety disappearing like smoke. “Wait, the same Dr. Ahn that teaches the crypto course?”

“No, that one died,” you say quickly. Kid deflates. “Anyway, I don’t really tutor anymore, especially for econ. As you can see”—you gesture vaguely around the cramped four walls of your office—“they’ve upgraded me. They even put my name on a little placard by the door! Go look! They spelled it wrong! If that doesn’t sum up this university I don’t know what does.”

You heave another sigh. Try to school your face and tone into something that exudes professionalism and finality. “Look, I’m sorry I can’t help you. I tutored Dr. Lee’s students for, like, three years in undergrad so I’m sure they just… forgot that wasn’t my actual job here. Who’s in charge of tutoring these days? I’ll shoot them an email and explain all this.”

Freshman gives you a name, and it takes less than a second to find them in the employee directory. You expect that to be the end of it, but he’s still taking up space in your doorway. You quirk an eyebrow. “Yes?”

The hand-wringing returns, along with an embarrassed flush that disappears beneath the neckline of his school-branded sweatshirt. “I just—um. Maybe you could, uh. Send that now? Before I get back there?”

You blink. “Don’t you have to go all the way back across campus? How slow do you think I type?” He shrugs, and you give up on the idea of getting rid of him. “Fine. What’s your name, anyway?”

“Lee Chan. I’m a sophomore. Do you know that guy?”

“Oh. I thought for sure you were a freshman, but you’re gonna need to be more specific, Lee Chan, Sophomore.”

“The guy they want you to tutor.” You freeze. The guy they want you to tutor is—“Choi Seungcheol,” Chan tacks on, and, yeah, you know—knew, you correct yourself—someone with that name, once upon a time.

But there are a lot of Chois and a lot of Seungcheols. It’s been years since you’ve spoken to the Seungcheol you knew, and that was when he’d broken up with you to—“I heard he’s a football player? Well, used to be, I guess. The girls in the office were freaking out so I guess he’s pretty famous, but I don’t know anything about sports, do you? They said they have photocards of him. I thought they only did that for idols.”

You think about being kids together in Daegu. Think about the exasperated looks you’d share when your parents would drag the two of you to festivals: Palgongsan in the autumn, Biseulsan in the spring; transformation and rebirth. Think about being eight years old and watching your father cram into the small space of the Chois’ living room, standing around the TV with Seungcheol’s dad, shouting at Park Jonghwan. Daegu FC made the FA Cup quarterfinals that year, and you think, of everything, that’s what you’ll remember for the rest of your life.

You think about falling in love slowly. Sixteen and clueless, the pair of you were. Didn’t really know any different, just that you’d look at him and feel butterflies. That you’d hold hands in secret. Text beneath the dinner table. That you’d watch him on the football pitch and be consumed by pride. That the future felt impossibly far away, that life would never catch up to the two of you.

You think about all the football jargon you didn’t understand—the academies, the teams, the implications. You think about, I’m thinking about trying out for the FC Seoul U-18, I just don’t think there’s much more I can do here in Daegu. You think about replying, Oh, I applied to university there.

You remember thinking it must’ve been fate, how easy that had worked out. How easy that first hurdle had been overcome.

You think about how fast everything happened. The try-out, the acceptance, the explosion. Remember being unable to go anywhere those first few months without seeing Seungcheol’s face, touted as the next big thing. Think about applying for scholarships when he was applying for international visas. Think about studying for midterms when Seungcheol was studying English for interviews.

You think about the last few weeks of your relationship, when it felt like you were desperately trying to cling to ghosts. Think about how Seoul had once felt endlessly big, both in opportunity and size, and how it now felt suffocating. You think about, So you’re just giving up? Is that what you’re saying? Think about, I don’t know what else to do. It doesn’t feel fair to you.

You think about all the places you’ve watched him. On countless football pitches; shy glances in school hallways; in the passenger seat, wracked with nerves on the drive to Seoul; poised above you in bed, hairline dotted with sweat as he rolled his hips, telling you how much he loved you.

You think about watching him walk out the door, and how you never watched him again.

So you fire off your email, concise and to the point about why you can’t tutor Choi Seungcheol in Introduction to Microeconomics, and turn to Lee Chan, Sophomore.

“No,” you finally answer. “Never heard of him.”

For all intents and purposes, your rejection should’ve been the end of it.

A few days go by. You hold office hours, attend lectures, work on your thesis when you have both the time and the energy. Try to ignore the feeling of bees beneath your skin, anxiety needling each time you check your email. You were well within your right to decline the tutoring request, but you can’t help but feel like you’ve done something wrong. That someone somehow knows who Seungcheol was to you and will pull you up on it. That those girls who’d gushed about him to Chan are somewhere laughing at your expense.

But you don’t hear anything at all about it… until you do.

Sunday evening. You haven’t moved from your couch in hours, some variety show playing in the background, barely audible over your keyboard clacking. Much to your detriment, you don’t write many papers these days, so you’re out of practice. Feels like you haven’t done anything besides formulas in years, all of your academic knowledge reduced to fucking math, so you’re about ready to toss your laptop out the window long before the email even comes through.

You see, From: Lee Yeonseok. You see, Subject: Choi Seungcheol - Tutoring.

Your stomach plummets to the floor.

You scan the body quickly. You see the words personal favor… friend of his father… urgent matter… and your hands start shaking. Whether it’s from the sheer audacity of this man or anxiety, you aren’t sure, but it’s not like it matters. There aren’t a whole lot of people on campus brave or dumb enough to go up against him twice.

“Motherfucker,” you spit, bitter the only taste in your mouth.

Where did you go wrong to wind up here? You’d followed the script: got the grades, passed the exams, received half of the required education for the Respectable Career, helped a few others along the way chase dreams that may or may not have been their own. You’d fallen in love. Only had a broken heart to show for it, but that’d been in the script, too: The First Love, followed by The First Heartbreak.

The split from Seungcheol was supposed to have been the end of that chapter. You’d planned on never seeing him again, and you never would have, had it been up to you. Apparently the universe has other plans, participation required.

“Did you spill onion dip on the rug again?” You startle, sending your laptop flying. Kaori, your roommate, is perched halfway in between the living room and the kitchen like a cryptid, clearly not expecting your reaction. “Oh. Were you watching porn?”

Face burning, you fetch your laptop from the floor. “In a common area? Kaori, please, I have far more decorum than that.”

She snorts, resuming her trek to the fridge. “See, that’s what I thought, but then I walked out here and you threw your laptop so fast it was like watching my ex get caught watching furry porn all over again.” She pries the lid off a large container of yogurt. “You think this is still good?”

“Dunno. What’s it smell like?”

She sniffs it and pulls it back to check the label. “Vanilla, I think, which is concerning because it’s supposed to be strawberry.”

You shrug. “What’s the worst that can happen, you get extra”—you pause, trying to remember the correct order of things, before giving up entirely—“...biotics?”

“Mm, so close. Care if I just eat this with a spoon?”

Nose scrunched, you wave her off. “Couldn’t pay me to eat yogurt on a good day, let alone if it’s expired. All yours, babe.”

Spoon in hand and a pleased smile on her face, Kaori collapses onto the couch beside you. You try to return your attention to your paper, try to find your momentum again, and it works for all of ten minutes before you’re groaning and slamming the top closed.

You don’t even need to look over to know Kaori’s staring. “What’s up with you?” she asks. Before she can answer: “Wait, is this serious? Because I can’t have a serious conversation in this t-shirt.” You steal a glance sideways. Ask Me About My Hemorrhoid! it says, and you exhale loudly. “Don’t breathe at me, I lost a bet.”

“And continued wearing it?”

She jokingly rolls her eyes. “God forbid a girl has hobbies.” Nudges you with her foot. “C’mon, spill.”

Kaori doesn’t know about you and Seungcheol. Most people don’t, aside from a few old classmates from Daegu who found you on social media and tried befriending you once he started making a name for himself in Seoul. After that, it was just easier to keep things private while you were together. New friends knew you were seeing someone but not their name or how long you’d been together. Any curiosity surrounding why the Choi Seungcheol was following you on Insta had been waved away easily. Our parents are friends, we grew up together. Then you broke up, and there wasn’t any evidence to delete, and he wasn’t following you on Instagram anymore, and it was easier that way.

So, yeah—even though you hadn’t met her until years later, Kaori knows you have an ex. She knows you’ve had a few flings and situationships in the time since, too, and it’s why she’s none the wiser when you ask, “It’s nothing, really. Just—do you follow football at all?”

“Nah, not really. The new guy’s pretty into it and keeps trying to get me to watch the games with him, but it’s so fucking boring? I dunno, I can’t get into it. Not in real life, anyway—I binged all of Captain Tsubasa in an embarrassingly short amount of time, though. Why?”

“Student Services asked me to tutor someone the other day and I had to turn it down. I just don’t have the time, you know? This semester’s already killer, and Dr. Ahn’s been riding my ass nonstop about grades. Turns out it’s some football player, so Dr. Lee emailed me asking me to do it as a personal favor, which means, on top of all the other shit I have to do, I’m now tutoring some football player four hours a week in Microeconomics.”

Her face distorts. “God, that guy’s such a prick. Like wow, you’re good at the economy! Good for you! Who cares! Why don’t you go balance the national debt or something instead of torturing university freshmen!”

You also wrongly assume that’s the last you’ll hear of it from Kaori.

Two days later, after Student Services replies to your email with the days and times you’ll be tutoring Seungcheol, she materializes in the living room to harass you.

“You didn’t tell me your football player was Choi Seungcheol.”

The panic is instant. You know how she means it, but it’s not how your body interprets it. All of a sudden it feels like an interrogation, an accusation, and a whopping serving of guilt takes up residence in the middle of your chest for not being entirely honest.

“Explains this weird text Ken sent me.”

She slides her phone over to you, open to her text thread with her current flavor of the week. Beneath an article about Seungcheol enrolling in classes at your school:

doesn’t ur roomie TA there Why are you calling her “ur roomie” like you don’t know her name?? Rude. Also yes. ask her to get me an autograph No babe pls he was my fav player before he got injured No 🙄 fine. can i come over later? Starting to think you’re using me for my roommate. Get your own job 🙄

You hand her phone back. “I didn’t think you’d know who Choi Seungcheol even is.” It’s the best you can do, even though it just digs you a deeper grave. “You said you’re not into football.”

“I’m not, but unfortunately I am into that stupid man.” She sighs, wistful and longing. “Babe, you have to understand. His dick is so big.”

You hadn’t wanted to stay in Seoul for your graduate degree, let alone the same university you’d gone to for undergrad.

You’d applied to schools all over—Japan, Europe, even a few in the States. Romanticized the hell out of NYU, went window shopping for an overpriced apartment, picked a favorite pizzeria based on nothing but vibes and online reviews. In those few months after graduation, there wasn’t a whole lot tying you to Seoul. Your and Seungcheol’s relationship had been old history by then, your parents split. Your dad stayed in your childhood home and your mother moved a few hours closer to her sister. They’d waited until your brother was old enough to be out of the house.

And it’d just been… a lot. Overwhelming. Some days you could barely shower or feed yourself, let alone move halfway across the world, so you’d stayed in the familiar and tried not to let it feel like failure.

But the good thing about familiarity is you learn its tricks, figure out the hiding spots. Early on, your first or second week of grad school, you laid claim to a study room on a floor of the library everyone else ignored. You write notes on the whiteboard with faded blue markers that are still there days later. The chair on the opposite side of the table is always exactly where you left it, the space between it and the table enough to only accommodate you. Sometimes you leave books—old paperbacks littered with notes in your writing—or papers, just to see if they move.

They never do.

And all of this is why it feels like a punch to the gut when that sanctity is tainted. When you’re halfway through a stack of Dr. Ahn’s exams and the doorknob rattles behind you. When you don’t even need to turn around to know who it is, because he still sounds the same, still has that overwhelming presence. You’ve always sensed him before you felt him.

“There you are,” Dr. Lee says, ambling into the room before you can protest. He, too, is overwhelming, just in different ways. Immaculate posture that anchors his slight frame that’s always dressed impeccably and expensively. Wears a watch that’s triple your tuition. Shoes polished so bright they’re nearly blinding. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

This time it is an accusation.

Well, you found me, you want to say, but just knowing Seungcheol is behind him, lingering in that half-study room, half-hallway space, is enough to keep you quiet. Like if you speak you’ll summon him closer and you’ll no longer be able to pretend this is nothing more than a nightmare.

You plaster on a polite smile. Say, “Ah, here I am, kyosu-nim,” and put all your energy into trying to glue Seungcheol to the floor with your mind.

Which is fruitless, because Dr. Lee moves further into the room. Gestures for Seungcheol to follow him with an impatient huff, and the study room is small, sure, and with three people it feels cramped, but that’s not the reason it feels like all the air’s been sucked out of the room.

Seungcheol looks… different. He looks as anxious as you feel, and he sticks close to the wall like he’s trying to disappear. Dr. Lee introduces him with grave importance, unaware of your history, and the forced smile he offers you almost looks embarrassed.

You know Dr. Lee is still hammering away, probably giving you a stern talking-to for rejecting his request the first time, but you can’t tear your eyes away from Seungcheol. Feels like the world around you has reduced to a pinhead, all hyperfocus; feels like your lungs are sucking in stale air one at a time.

“...his father is a very good friend of mine, so I expect…”

You expected to feel nothing. Seungcheol had left to chase his dream—one you’d always been so supportive of that it sometimes felt like your dream, too—and, perhaps naively, you thought the distance and the years would’ve been enough. You expected your heart to have hardened. You expected all those nights you spent crying to hit you at full force. You expected anger, hurt—indifference, at the very least.

“...as many hours per week as you both can manage…”

But you should’ve known better. Should’ve expected the butterflies, the way your palms grow clammy, the way your heart rate spikes. Should’ve expected everything to feel upside-down. You should’ve expected to look at Seungcheol and feel sixteen and in love all over again.

“...you are responsible for his academic progress…”

And that simply will not do. You’ve spent the last few years pulling yourself out of that hole, clawing your way back to something resembling normal. You’ve purged the thought of him from your mind—let his scent fade from your sheets, an old sweatshirt he’d left behind; forgot the way his lips felt against every inch of your skin; forgot the way his entire being lit up when he laughed; forgot the safety he encompassed, the way he whispered all those sweet nothings.

You cannot go there again.

So you roll your shoulders back, smile politely. Say, “Ah, kyosu-nim, Choi Seungcheol-ssi seems very intelligent, I’m sure he is capable of being responsible for his own academic standing, don’t you think?”

Dr. Lee cannot disagree without all but calling Seungcheol an idiot, so he hovers before you in shocked silence. Makes a show of huffing and checking his watch, like he’s all of a sudden remembered he’s late for something and being inconvenienced by this conversation he started, and then he’s halfway out of the library with a terse, “Discuss and figure this out amongst yourselves,” thrown over his shoulder.

You have an entire dramatic exit planned in your head. Gather your things, fake a phone call that makes you sound authoritative and important, and brush past Seungcheol wearing your nicest perfume as if all of this is so far beneath you you can’t even bring yourself to care about it.

Of course, you actually have to brush by him for any of that to happen, and since you’ve already decided you will not go there again, you quickly scribble your email address onto a piece of paper and slide it across the table at Seungcheol, who has steadfastly remained planted just outside the door. “Here’s my email. I don’t have time to discuss this right now.” Seungcheol cocks an eyebrow. You start throwing things into your bag haphazardly. You know you look frantic and affected, but there’s not much you can do about that. “What? Send me a copy of your syllabus and what you want to prioritize. It’ll be easier to get through this if we have a plan instead of winging it.”

He seems to catch on to your distaste because he mirrors it. Scoffs as he rolls his eyes and says, “Yeah, no use spending more time together than we have to,” and if you hadn’t gone years without speaking, you would’ve seen right through it.

But you did, so it stings all the same.

As it typically does, the planet keeps spinning after your run-in with Seungcheol.

You grade Dr. Ahn’s coursework. Try running off your anxiety at the gym, even though it’s pretty good at keeping pace with you these days. You meet Kaori’s maybe-boyfriend sneaking out of your apartment early in the morning and he has the good sense not to mention your ex, but you chalk that up to the mess of hickeys covering his neck and not any sense of social decorum.

Other people’s embarrassment saves you a ton of your own, you’ve come to learn.

Throughout all of this, Seungcheol only emails you once to send you his course syllabus. Doesn’t mention tutoring or provide you with his schedule or ask for yours, so when you’re sitting in a bar with your friends, three or four drinks deep and feeling a little petty, you forward him the original tutoring request and make sure to bold, underline, and highlight the “Recommended Tutoring: High” part for good measure.

He doesn’t take your bait—electronically, at least—but he does show up to your office hours the following Tuesday.

Bag tossed onto the floor, he flops unceremoniously into the chair across from you and says, in lieu of a greeting, “They spelled your name wrong. On the door thing.”

“I know,” you reply, your smile polite and terse. Incredible how he has the ability to raise your blood pressure in milliseconds. “What can I help you with?”

“Depends. How long do you have?”

“Well, considering you’ve shown up to my office hours on time, I’m assuming you already know I’m here every Tuesday and Thursday from four to six. So”—you glance at the clock above the door—“assuming no one comes by who needs my help more than you do, you have approximately one hour and fifty-eight minutes.”

Seungcheol is quiet for a moment as he takes you in. His stare is weighted; it makes you feel a little green around the edges. Clinical and sharp, so far removed from the way he used to look at you. You clear your throat. “I looked over your syllabus. The good news is there’s only a midterm and a final and the rest is problem sets. The bad news is there’s only a midterm and a final so they’re weighted quite heavily. You really need to know this stuff inside-out to have any hope of passing.”

“That’s why you’re here, right? Dr. Lee specifically requested you.”

You huff a breath through your nose. “I’m here as supplemental help. I can’t take your exams or do your readings for you. What else are you taking this semester?”

He sighs, sinking further into the chair, very much playing the part of the heir who has no interest in any of this. Which… is unlike him, you think, if you’re even allowed to. The Seungcheol you knew years ago took everything so seriously. Never clipped corners or took shortcuts. Anyone else would think him a spoiled, petulant child. “Business Accounting and International Trade.”

“Could be worse,” you note. “At least those three courses are tangentially related.”

Seungcheol rolls his eyes. “Easy for you to say. I haven’t taken a fucking math class in years.”

You return it. “You remember how to add and subtract, don’t you?”

“I ruptured my ACL, not my…” He trails off, looking a little embarrassed that he can’t name a part of the—“Brain.”

Whatever you were going to quip back with dies on your tongue. It's the first time Seungcheol has broached the topic of his injury—the first you’re hearing of it at all, actually—and he says it like it’s a joke, like it’s not a thing at all, but the pain is all over his face. The bitterness of the situation he’s found himself in. The unfairness of it all.

And there are so many questions you want to ask that aren’t your place: if it’s fixable, if he’ll ever play again, how he’s coping. But you don’t really need to—you can’t imagine how you’d feel if someone suddenly pulled the rug out from under you. If everything contained within the four walls of your office suddenly disappeared.

Not that the man sitting across from you hadn’t already done that, but.

“Right,” you continue, as if he hadn’t said anything at all. You know Seungcheol—know he wouldn’t want you prodding, sticking your fingers in that particular wound. “I want you to take a look at this,” you say, handing over a printout you have saved from your undergrad tutoring days. “Tell me what looks familiar, what doesn’t; what does and doesn’t make sense.”

He looks down at the paper. Back up at you. Down at the paper again. “What the fuck is this?”

“I—what? Cheol, it’s my old notes on recitation. Surely you’ve already covered this—the syllabus says this is week one stuff.” He looks down at the paper again, and it’s so familiar, watching the life drain entirely from someone’s eyes.

You barely resist the urge to slam your face onto your desk a second time.

You meet Seungcheol at the sports center for your next tutoring session.

He likes the humidity and the smell of the chlorine by the pool. He also likes that it’s not the football pitch, so the two of you sit in the bleachers there and go over his lecture notes. Much to your surprise, Seungcheol talks a mile a minute. Has stars in his eyes when he says he finally understands elastic demand curves, supply shock; tells you he spent a whole hour making flashcards.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him so excited since your tutoring began—the first glimmer of hope you’ve felt since Dr. Lee cornered you in your library hideaway. None of this surprises you. Seungcheol has always been smart, even when football was his primary (and sometimes only) focus. He has more determination and grit than anyone you’ve ever met, so you’re not surprised he’s doing well, excelling, but you are surprised—

“Can I ask you something?” Seungcheol shrugs, shoves half a protein bar in his mouth and swallows without chewing. “Why are you… uh. Here?”

“At this university?”

“Not exactly. I mean, I am wondering about that, but I guess… why business?”

Seungcheol hums. Tucks his good knee to his chest and stares down at the pool. No one’s using it, and truthfully the two of you probably aren’t even allowed to be here, but you understand why he likes it. It’s nowhere near as secluded as the library and definitely not as air conditioned, but it is peaceful. Calm. The water laps against the coping in quiet, small waves.

“Ah, I don’t know. You know how it goes.”

You quirk an eyebrow. Never, in all the years you’ve known him, has Seungcheol done anything he didn’t want to do. All that grit and determination. “What about your father, then? Dr. Lee mentioned this was a favor to him. He’s a pretty important person to have in your Rolodex of favors.”

Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see what this is: Seungcheol’s father has new money; worked from the bottom up, made some smart investment decisions that finally panned out after Seungcheol left for Seoul. Started doing his own thing, made a name for himself. Last you’d heard from your mother, Seungcheol’s brother was second-in-command. Hell, even your own brother did an internship there.

So you know what this is: a father helping his son after his dream was shattered, life turned upside-down. You can’t blame him, even if you’ve heard the whispers from all the way across campus. That Seungcheol is washed up now, trying to nepo his way into his father’s company because of it; that all he knows is sports and he should’ve stuck to that, what does he know about business, why is he the one Dr. Lee went out of his way to help.

Doesn’t stop any of them from smiling at him, though; doesn’t stop them from asking for autographs or selfies.

But you also know this isn’t something Seungcheol seems willing to discuss, so you crack a joke—“I mean, business. God, who’d wanna go into that?”—and go back to what he was willing to talk about.

You’ve never hated elastic demand curves so much in your life.

Deep in the throes of tutoring—when you can’t tell if it’s week two or week twelve—you make it back to your apartment just before ten, head pounding.

The door flies open just as you’re about to punch in the code, and there stands Ken, looking far more put-off than you’ve ever seen him. Looks defeated, if you’re being honest, like someone mopped up all his emotions and wrung them out like dirty dishwater.

“Oh, hi,” you say hesitantly. The man in front of you seems too much like a caged animal to let your guard down. “Everything okay?”

He aborts a nod halfway. Mutters an apology as he brushes by you and stalks down the hall, disappearing around the corner to the elevators. Usually he’s a talker—you haven’t been able to avoid a Seungcheol-related conversation in weeks—so you’re a little stunned. Stand there stupidly for a while, and that’s where Kaori finds you a moment later.

“You gonna stand out here all night, or…?”

“Oh—yeah, right.”

You follow her inside. Toe off your shoes and put them in the rack. Focus on the sound of the kettle whistling instead of the overbearing tension in the room. Drop your bag off in your room, throw on a sweatshirt three sizes too big and a comfy pair of socks. Rummage through the fridge for leftovers, contemplate what mindless show you’ll watch as you eat, and you do not, under any circumstances, ask Kaori what happened.

You don’t have to. You knew what this was going to be the first time Ken spent the night—the way he looked mortified to be meeting you in the shared kitchen at seven a.m., wearing a look that begged you not to tell your roommate he was sneaking out.

I, uh, have an early class, he’d said. You know how it is.

Maybe you should’ve called him on it then. Issued a warning-but-not-really. She’ll get attached if you don’t tell her. She should know it’s different for you, if it is.

But you’d convinced yourself it wasn’t your place. Kaori wouldn’t want you in her business like that, so you stayed quiet, just nodded before watching him slip his shoes on and close the door behind him so quietly you wouldn’t have known he left at all if you hadn’t been looking. Gone, just like a ghost.

So, yeah, you know exactly why your roommate looks haunted.

“I’m a few episodes behind on this if you want to watch with me,” you offer, pointing at the television with the remote. It’s a lie—you’ve never watched this show a day in your life, which Kaori seems to know—but she contemplates it nonetheless. “Also, my mom mailed us some cookies. I think they’re in the fridge.”

“Why are there cookies in the fridge?”

You huff a laugh. “They were outside the door this morning before I left for campus. I don’t know—just saw who the package was from and was like, oh, this must go in the fridge.”

She nods. Grabs the container and joins you on the couch. Sticks her feet beneath your butt and doesn’t mention a thing.

The closest she comes is a few days later. Catches you right before you head out to campus and asks how tutoring is going.

“Not bad, actually.”

Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes when she says, “That’s good. I’m glad things are going well for you two.”

Lee Chan, Sophomore makes his unexpected return at your office hours on an unsuspecting Tuesday.

“Can I help you?”

He doesn’t answer right away, just helps himself to the seat across from you. “Maybe,” comes his cryptic retort. “I was thinking about signing up for that crypto course next semester.”

You narrow your eyes. “No, you weren’t.”

He sighs. Looks a little panicked, like he can’t believe that didn’t work. “You’re right, you’re right. I, um—I wanted to come say thank you.” He pauses. “You know, for that… email you sent.”

You blink. “No, you didn’t.”

Lee Chan, Sophomore cracks immediately. Thunks his head on your desk and lets loose a pained sound. It nearly sounds like he’s wailing when he says, “I’m sorry! They put me up to it!”

What you’re able to piece together is this: Lee Chan, Sophomore has become a bit of a celebrity in the Student Services department ever since he met you, Choi Seungcheol’s tutor. And, like any smart, previously unpopular university student would do, he took advantage of it. Might’ve stretched the truth a little to make it sound like he knew more than he did, so now here he is, angling for information the girls with the photocards may or may not have paid him to get.

“They want to know about his girlfriend.”

“His what?”

What you’re able to piece together is also this: the Photocard Girls are certain Seungcheol is dating someone, based on little more than vibes. You suspect these vibes are their three degrees of separation, considering there was an abnormal amount of Change of Major files formed after his enrollment, but you tell Lee Chan that you don’t know anything and, even if you did, you wouldn’t put his business out there like that.

But some part of you still has this inexplicable urge to protect Seungcheol, so you match their offer with interest and tell him to say there’s nothing to report—not that you didn’t know, not that he couldn’t get anything out of you. Seungcheol isn’t dating anyone.

You don’t know if it’s true, but you figure that if it isn’t, he still deserves privacy.

Which is a notion you have trouble explaining a few hours later, when Seungcheol strolls into your office with a grease-stained paper bag full of cheese coin bread, offering one to you with a proud smile that drops slowly when you just stare in return.

“What’s wrong?”

Your mouth opens, closes, opens again. Nothing comes out, even though it should be simple. Some sophomore kid was just in here angling for information or the Student Services department is taking bets on whether or not you have a girlfriend would both suffice, but you cannot bring yourself to say the words.

What you settle on is, “Sorry, I just… had an interesting meeting before you got here.”

“Oh. Are you okay?”

You sigh. Tilt your head back to stare up at the ceiling. “It was about you, actually.”

Seungcheol chokes, starts stuttering over words you can’t make sense of. Says, “Me? Why? I passed my last exam—I mean, barely, but I still passed. And that wasn’t your fault! I didn’t study enough! I’ve been losing my mind over my International Trade class, that shit sucks—”

“It wasn’t about your grades, Cheol.”

“Oh.” Then, slowly, a lopsided, pleased smile overtakes his face. “Haven’t heard you call me Cheol in a while.”

“Seungcheol,” you correct.

He seems to forget all about the meeting. Tries again to offer you a coin bread before he threatens to eat them all himself, so you acquiesce mostly to shut him up, say you’ll bring the extras to Kaori. For some reason, you tell him about how much she’d loved the cookies your mom sent, and the nostalgia sets him off, gets him talking again, asking if they were the yakgwa she used to make when you two were kids.

They were, but you can’t seem to tell him that, either.

Seungcheol: sorry it’s last minute - running late. can you meet me at my place instead?

Seungcheol shared a location with you

You’re halfway to replying—I don’t think that’s appropriate—before you sigh and delete it. Midterms are only a few days away and you don’t have time to argue over where your tutoring sessions will be, so if Seungcheol wants to meet at his apartment that’s where you’ll meet him.

You read over the midterm notes on the train. Once, twice, and then a hundred more times until they’re nearly memorized, all so you can ignore the voice in the back of your head saying what a bad idea this is. That you have no business being on your way to your ex’s swanky part of town or integrating yourself into his life beyond tutoring at all. You shouldn’t know where he lives. Maybe you shouldn’t even have his phone number or answer his texts.

Not that there’s much you can do about it now, two stops away.

Seungcheol greets you warmly, if not a little rushed. Apologizes for the mess once you step inside, although it’s less “mess” and more “haven’t finished unpacking,” but there’s enough clear space to study at the dining table, so that’s where you set up, determined to keep things professional.

“Sorry again about this,” Seungcheol says, placing a can of cola in front of you as he takes the seat across. “I had to meet with my father and lost track of time, I guess.”

“Oh. How’s he doing?”

Seungcheol sighs, leans further back in the chair as runs a hand through his hair. A light brown, now. “Same as he always was, I guess. Talked about the business, about my brother. Can’t get him to shut up about that stuff most of the time.”

“The business is doing good, though.” You cough, clear your throat. “My, uh. My brother interned there during undergrad. I don’t know if your father told you that.”

You don’t know why you say it, because it’s clear from the brief flicker of pain on Seungcheol’s face that he hadn’t known, that no one had told him. And it hurts you too that they felt the need to keep it a secret, to protect Seungcheol from you even in tangential ways.

“He didn’t,” he admits, “but I’m sure he was happy to see him. He was, uh—he was glad to hear you’re my tutor. Said you were always smarter than all of us boys combined.”

You laugh. Hope it sounds casual instead of strained. “Well, no need to prove him right. Come on,” you say, tossing a study guide in his direction, “let’s get to work.”

Everything is alright for a while—nearly an hour at least. He has the formulas memorized and attributed to the correct equations. He can explain supply and demand, preference and utility, but things start to fall apart around budget constraints and constrained choice.

The formulas get mixed up. He grows frustrated when he doesn’t know the answers to your questions right away. Rolls his eyes and gets a little snappy when you correct him, try to explain things differently in a way he understands. At first he’s able to temper it, collect himself before things truly start spiraling out of control, but the longer the two of you sit there the more it all unravels.

He snaps, you snap back, and you can’t figure out why. You’ve survived this long in Seungcheol’s orbit even though you never thought you’d be around him again, and perhaps it was bound to explode eventually, but…

It’s the familiarity, you realize.

You and Seungcheol aren’t friends, though you’ve been playing at it for weeks now: meeting outside of the library or your office, the personal conversations bordering on reminiscing, being in his personal space. You don’t belong here. You don’t want to be his friend—you can’t be, not for real or pretend.

“That’s not what I’m say—”

“Then explain it better,” Seungcheol fires at you, eyebrows creasing. “You’re the tutor here.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m trying, okay? All I meant was—your answer isn’t wrong, but I know Dr. Lee and he’s going to want more than that in a response.”

“Right—not good enough, like I said.”

“I’m just asking you to expand on your answer—”

“And I’m telling you that’s all I’ve got. I’m not like you, all right? I don’t have all this shit just floating around in my head all the time. I’m not smart, I barely have any idea what’s going on half the time, and you sitting here being condescending about it is doing fuck-all to help.”

You inhale sharply, taken aback at the hostility in his voice. Suggest calling it for the night, say neither of you will be productive if you keep going like this, and neither of you bother to apologize.

So much of your relationship with Seungcheol was marred by clichés.

The two of you passing notes back and forth during class. You in the bleachers of all his games, screaming along to the team chants, waving a sign around with his name on it. Not realizing you had a crush on him at all until he liked someone else and it made your stomach hurt. Childhood friends turned lovers.

Another cliché: that it’s starting to feel like that all over again.

Seungcheol sits across from you in the library, econ textbook cracked in half in front of him as he pays no attention. Keeps grabbing his phone each time it vibrates across the table. Can’t fight the smile that forces its way onto his face when he reads whatever’s there.

Stupid, you think—both to do this and to think it’d play out any other way. Seungcheol left years ago. Probably lived ten lifetimes while he was away while you were here in this exact spot doing this exact thing. Barely lived half a life, just stuck your nose in textbooks and forced your way through.

“Cheol,” you say, trying to drag his attention back to the study guide. No use. He’s typing away, presses his tongue into the fat of his cheek as he responds. “Seungcheol,” you try again.

Also fruitless.

You have no claim here, you remind yourself—not to his time, not to him. He’s only here because someone else mandated it. You’re only here because someone else mandated it, but it stings all the same. Another reminder of what used to be, of what ended regardless of what you wanted. Another reminder that the role you used to play in his life is not the role you play now. That the space you used to take up created a vacancy, and eventually it was going to be filled.

And if this was anyone other than Seungcheol, if you were more emotionally evolved when it came to him, it wouldn’t gnaw at you as much. All of this would roll off your shoulders.

But it isn’t, and you’re not.

“If you’re not going to listen, then—”

“I am listening,” he interjects, but he’s not looking at you. Not looking at his textbook or his study guide. Keeps laughing and smiling at his phone, and it’s sick how bothered you are by it. That it feels like your stomach’s been turned inside-out with jealousy; with annoyance, because you don’t want to be here anyway, don’t want to do this anymore, and you’re wasting your time on someone who doesn’t appreciate it.

Perhaps he never did.

“What are we discussing, then?”

Still not looking up: “Consumer theory.”

You laugh—more a huff of air than anything, grin sardonically out of one corner of your mouth. Seungcheol sees none of it. “Wrong,” you answer, already expecting the way he shrugs it off. “I’m gonna skip ahead a few chapters, though. Consider it a freebie for your business class.”

It must be your tone that finally grabs his attention. Cutting, precise, purposeful. Seungcheol lowers his phone, quirks an eyebrow, wonders where this is going to go. It’s clear he’s pissed you off, that you’re itching for a fight. It’s clear the years of silence are finally coming to a head.

“Let’s talk about ROI. You know what that is?” You barely give him a second. “Return on investment. A performance measure used to evaluate the efficiency of an investment or compare the efficiency of several investments. So, let’s say I make one-hundred-thousand won on a ten-thousand won investment: my ROI is 90%. Are you following?”

He nods.

“Great, now let’s try something a bit more hypothetical.” You suck in a breath. “Let’s say I invest years of my adolescence into someone. A friend at first and then something more. Let’s say I played cheerleader, supported every hope and dream he had—went to every game, cheered him on, helped him practice his English. Held his hand and talked him down when the pressure felt overwhelming, when the only thing that felt inevitable was failure. Now, let’s say all I got in return was a stuttered, awkward apology as he dumped me and walked out the door. Let’s say that guy showed up again after years of silence just to once again waste my fucking time.”

The thing about pain is it’s not linear. What hurt five, ten years ago might not hurt today, but it might tomorrow; what hurt yesterday may never hurt again. The thing about pain is it lets you stick your head in the sand until it can’t anymore, and that’s where you are now: that window of time between Seungcheol walking out the door on the assumption you’d never see him again before he bulldozed his way back into your life has been slammed closed, locked up tight.

So you don’t even notice you’re crying until the room goes deathly silent and you can hear the drip drip drip of tears on paper. Until you watch Seungcheol’s hands flex and unflex in mid-air, stuck in that liminal space, wanting to reach out but knowing he has no right to. Until your chest aches so bad you’re sure you’re either about to break into stardust or cease to exist.

Until you say, “What, Choi Seungcheol, would you say my fucking return on investment was?” and he has nothing to say at all.

Kaori invites you to a party.

Just something small to celebrate the end of midterms and a classmate’s birthday. Nothing out of control or raucous, not even the kind of thing that’d earn a second glance from campus security. I won’t even make fun of you if you leave before eleven, is how she sold it to you, in addition to a small amount of begging and bargaining and a powerful set of puppy-dog eyes.

After everything the two of you have been through, you find it hard to say no.

So here you are, nearly eleven o’clock on a Friday, a cup of cheap beer in hand. A friend of a friend of a friend is wailing into a karaoke machine and although your ears are bleeding, it does feel nice for that to be your greatest worry. You aren’t thinking about your classes or how you’ve been prioritizing everyone else’s academic success. You aren’t thinking about whatever’s going on between Kaori and Ken. You aren’t thinking about Seungcheol.

At least you aren’t, until he walks through the door.

You’re going to continue not thinking about him at all—not about the fact he’s alone or how good he looks in a simple black T-shirt that’s a little taut in the shoulders. You’re not going to think about the way the air shifts, like the universe knows he’s important and is willing to accommodate. You’re not going to think about how Kaori catches your eye across the room, recognizes him from all her internet searches, and the way she mouths oh my god he’s so beefy at you.

You’re not going to think about how guilty you feel that she doesn’t know, because if you do you’re certain it’ll take over.

You watch Seungcheol work the room; watch as he floats between conversations, as strangers fall over themselves at the sight of him. How eager everyone is to give him something and how reluctant he is to take them. You watch as he winds up in the same circle as Kaori and how she must mention you, oh, your tutor is my roommate, because there’s a question in return before he turns and meets your gaze.

You wonder why the distance between you feels more insurmountable now than ever before.

Seungcheol finds you in your office.

It’s not a Tuesday or a Thursday, far later than four to six in the evening, but he doesn’t even bother knocking before he’s barreling in, stifling your space with his bad energy.

You haven’t seen him in nearly two weeks. Not since the party, if that even counts. Hasn’t bothered to reply to any of your texts or emails, and that was just fine by you, if that’s how he wanted to act, but it isn’t until he’s brooding on the other side of your desk that you realize you’re still aggrieved, too. Feels a little too familiar, him leaving you behind and in the dark.

So you don’t mean to—typically have much more professionalism than this—but when he tosses a stapled stack of papers with a barely-passing grade on your desk and says, “This is your fault,” the words come automatically and without forethought.

“Fuck off, Seungcheol.” It’s not your words that take him by surprise; more so the roll of your eyes, the accompanying huff. The impression that all of this is beneath you and nothing more than a mere annoyance. That however affected you were two weeks ago is not how affected you are anymore. “That’s what happens when you blow off your tutoring for two weeks because you’re a coward.”

He laughs, incredulous; unable to help the sound the tumbles out of his mouth. “I’m a—I’m a coward?”

“Yes,” you reply, tone giving away nothing. All he sees is feigned nonchalance despite the hurricane you feel brewing beneath the surface. “This,” you continue, pinching the corner of the paper between your fingertips and disposing of it in the trashcan beneath your desk, “is all on you, but do please let me know if there’s anything else you’d like to blame me for. I’m all ears.”

You don’t miss it: the way Seungcheol’s eyes grow wide at your ‘I’m all.’ The way he thinks you’re going to punctuate that sentence with yours, and it nearly has bile rising in your throat. Makes you want to scream, rip at your hair. If the last few months have taught you anything, it’s that you are still hopelessly in love with the man across from you—the man that continues to leave before he’s left, always at your expense.

So, yeah—Seungcheol is a coward, but only when it comes to you.

But he doesn’t look much like one now, gripping so hard at the edge of your desk that his knuckles have gone white, baseball cap pulled down low enough his eyes are barely visible. He’s always been overwhelming, always carried himself with an exaggerated arrogance even when it wasn’t warranted, always took everything so seriously, and maybe that’s why you’d thought he’d treat you the same way. Take you seriously. Wouldn’t just throw it all away on a maybe thing, and that’s why it's been years and you still aren’t over it.

Maybe Seungcheol is a coward, and maybe so are you.

Because not once since he’s been back have you been able to say what you mean. Can’t seem to tell him about the anger, the hurt, the heartbreak. Played it all off as petty nonchalance because you foolishly thought that would hurt him, that you’ve been reduced to simmering ash, no hope left for a fire.

“I could never blame you for a goddamn thing,” he says, voice so deep you could drown in it.

You so desperately want to know. You don’t want to know anything at all. You want Seungcheol to explain everything to you in detail and spoil the ending, but only if it’s guaranteed to be happy. Enduring another loss like the first time—you’re not sure you can take it. Not after you two have crossed paths like this, because you’ve never quite believed in fate but you think that has to mean something. That so much time and life had transpired and you two came back together.

Today, though, it doesn’t look like you’re going to get any answers.

Seungcheol straightens, looms at full height. Digs into the pocket of his sweatpants and pulls out a thumb drive. Wordlessly, he hands it over, and then he’s gone just as abruptly as he’d arrived.

Again.

Kaori wants to spend the weekend moping, and you can’t come up with a good reason not to join her.

She doesn’t mention Ken once. Not when she’s sobbing over A Silent Voice and Toradora! after that. Not when she keeps glancing at her phone every couple minutes to see if she has any texts. Not when you—only halfway paying attention between grading and your own assignments—suggest ordering something for delivery, maybe that new burger place down the street you heard was good, and Kaori shuts it down so vehemently you can only assume it was Ken’s favorite place.

Kaori just cries over the man with the big dick she never expected to take so seriously, and not even your stonewalling makes her feel ashamed of it.

And there’s respectability in that kind of openness and vulnerability. At least whatever she’s feeling is honest; at least she can admit she’s sad. You think watching Kaori process her breakup might help you process yours too, years too late, so you suck in a breath and ask, “Can I tell you something or is now not a good time?”

Kaori looks over at you. Dabs a soggy tissue at her eyes. “Well, I guess it depends,” is her answer, and she doesn’t shy away from how waterlogged her voice sounds. “If you’re going to tell me you’re a Takasu and Kawashima shipper, maybe, but if it’s anything worse I’m not sure I could take it.”

“I—what? Who even are they?” She gives you a half-hearted thumbs up. You sigh in response, sink further into the couch. “It’s, uh.” Clear your throat. “Do you remember when we met sophomore year? At that party? And I told you I wasn’t looking for anything and you said, and I quote, why not, I have a sixth sense for this kind of thing and I know that guy will have a huge—”

She hides her face behind her hands. “Ew, god, yes I remember that. My dick whisperer era. How embarrassing.”

“Right. And I told you I wasn’t looking for anything because I’d just gotten out of something.”

“Not really by choice, if I remember correctly. I told you if it was quiet it should’ve been loud, and then you never talked about it again.”

You nod. “I—yeah, that sounds like something I would’ve said.” You suck in a deep breath. “Listen, this is probably gonna sound bad considering I did never talk about it again, but—”

“Hey,” Kaori says, nudging you with her foot. Meant to be comforting, somehow. “It’s okay. There’s a lot you don’t know about me, too… most of which I’m not sure you should, actually.”

A laugh forces its way out, gives you a nice reprieve from the anxiety of the conversation you’re about to have. The need to explain it all, the need for advice. Maybe it’s not her—or anyone else’s—business, but you think you’ve kept this to yourself long enough. You and Seungcheol loved each other, once, and it seems foolish that no one knows.

Maybe Kaori had been right. Maybe love should be shouted from the rooftops; exist out in the open. Maybe something hidden in the shadows can never thrive in the light, and you knew it back then, deep down, but now it seems so obvious.

You think back to a few days before the library. Think about how things didn’t feel good but they felt okay. Think about the frustrated crease between Seungcheol’s eyebrows as he stared down at his textbook and how all you’d wanted to do was smooth it. Think about how you’d rolled your lips and tried not to laugh; how you thought it’d take a miracle to help Seungcheol pass this class.

Think about: What is the difference between the short-run and the long-run from the perspective of production theory?

Think about the short-run of your and Seungcheol’s relationship—that you’d burned bright and fast, even though it’d felt like a million years. Hadn’t dared to consider the long-run because anything beyond that bubble felt impossible.

Think about: Which of the following is not a property of isoquants?

Think about the way Seungcheol’s eyes lit up when he knew the answer. That they’re always linear, he said, and you smiled at his enthusiasm, raised your hand to high-five him and dropped it when he hadn’t noticed.

You think about the explanation—isoquants can be linear when inputs are perfectly substitutable—and what those graphs look like. Downward sloping, left to right. Think about how the graphs change when the isoquants are perfect complements.

L-shaped. Less straight as the inputs become poorer substitutes.

You know what your and Seungcheol’s graph would’ve looked like back then.

So it’s easy, almost, to tell Kaori everything. You tell her about growing up in Daegu, about the smell of the azaleas at Biseulsan in the spring. You tell her about how your parents had befriended the neighbors, how they had a kid your age, that that kid was Seungcheol—yes, that Seungcheol.

She’s able to anticipate the rest from there, but you fill in the blanks of what she can’t: being sixteen and falling in love, holding hands, the clandestine notes. All those football matches and how your throat would be hoarse from cheering. How nauseous you’d felt applying to university in Seoul, how excited you were when Seungcheol said he was coming with you. That, after you arrived, it felt like you were living in fast-forward. Barely any time to breathe or adjust; no time to just be you and Seungcheol. You had to be a student, someone responsible; Seungcheol had to be a phenom.

“Could you feel it was going to happen?” Kaori asks, now sat ramrod straight, all her attention on you. “Like, did you know?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “Maybe I did? It’s hard to say now, all this time later. I know things definitely felt different, like life was pulling us in opposite directions.” You laugh, bitterness coloring the edges. “You couldn’t go two blocks without seeing him on some billboard, and I was just… normal, you know? I wasn’t some rising star athlete like he was, I just went to my classes. How was I supposed to compete with something like that?”

Your roommate hums, leans back into the pillows as she stares up at the ceiling. “I don’t think you were. Maybe that’s why Seungcheol was worried—maybe he felt like you were losing your own identity feeling like you had to keep up.”

You want to push back, argue that you weren’t, that you didn’t, but the truth is that it’s possible. That the shadows created by Seungcheol’s dreams were so massive you wouldn’t be surprised if they unintentionally swallowed you up. “It still wasn’t his choice to make,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.

And Kaori already knows all about your hurt, listened as you explained it all and laid everything bare. So when she says, “Sometimes that’s just how it goes, though, babe,” it doesn’t feel condescending. “We do the best we can with what we’ve got at the time. You can say now it wasn’t Seungcheol’s choice to make, because it’s been almost five years and you’ve made a life for yourself separate from him. But the—god, this is gonna sound so patronizing, I am so sorry—but you guys were so young. No one has it all figured out at that age.”

She snorts, runs a hand through her messy hair. “Shit, I’m nearly halfway to thirty and I still don’t know anything.” Adopts a frown. “What do you want now? Do you want closure? Want to try to fix things and become friends?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, biting at a hangnail. “He actually, um. The other day when he stopped by my office, he left me a USB drive? And before you ask, no I did not already look at it.”

“A USB drive? Who does this guy think he is, James Bond?” A pause. “Are you gonna look at it, though?”

You do.

Not until the silver, midnight light creeps in through your bedroom curtains and you’ve stared at the ceiling long enough; waited long enough for texts that never came, for divine intervention to, well, intervene. It never did—fair enough—so you decide to take fate by the reins. Grab your laptop, instant headache from the screen, stick the drive into the port.

It takes a second for it to load, but when it does: dozens of videos, organized by date. Vlogs, by the look of them—some from before your breakup but the majority of them from after.

You’re not sure what you expected, but it wasn’t this.

You click on the first one: a month and a half before both of you moved to Seoul. A fresh-faced Seungcheol appears on your screen, cheeks still round with adolescence. He’s in his room back in Daegu, can’t get the camera angle right. Nostalgia hits you like a ton of bricks as it pans to the side, to the wall behind his bed, and you see all his old posters. Mostly football players you couldn’t name, some girl group he used to love, a few movies. Just below them are some of the notes you’d written him in school, and they’re all you can focus on as he talks about how excited he is for the move.

The next: a few weeks after you’d started classes. By then, Seungcheol was well into the swing of things with Seoul FC. Already a big fish in a small pond, tryout offers from European teams starting to roll in. You can hear yourself in the background stressing over your first exam, wishing a generational curse upon your calculus professor. In the video, Seungcheol laughs, whispers like he’s telling the camera a secret as he talks about how nervous he is for his future. I don’t know why, he says, but it just feels like everything is about to change.

There’s a long pause between that one and the next. You understand why when you look at the date: three months after your breakup. Your hands hover uselessly above your keyboard. Whatever answers you’ve been looking for the last few years are probably in this video, but you can’t bring yourself to open it. Not right away, at least.

You click on a different one at random. Seungcheol’s somewhere in Europe, judging from the language on the signs behind him. Snow falls quietly—whenever he filmed this, it must’ve been early. No one else is around, and he cracks a joke that it’s a good thing, people would probably think he was crazy if they saw him. He doesn’t tell you where he’s going but he narrates the entire walk: points out a cafe he’s grown to love. The way to get to his practice stadium from where he’s standing. Pauses near a restaurant and laughs ruefully, shakes his head, says, I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but one of my teammates set me up on a blind date here and I got stood up. You’d probably think that was funny.

(You do. It also makes your chest ache.)

One from two years ago: Seungcheol in a hotel room, clearly nervous. He raises his hand to wave at the camera and you can see the corners of his nails bitten raw. Dark circles beneath his eyes; cheekbones more pronounced than you’ve ever seen them. On the screen, Seungcheol sighs, rakes a hand through freshly-bleached hair. Sucks in a deep breath as he says, I’m so nervous. I’m so—so fucking nervous and I don’t. Fuck, I don’t know what to do. I want to call you because you always knew what to say but that’s so fucking selfish. God, we haven’t spoken in years, and it’s my—that’s my fault, I know, so I brought this all on myself. I just want to hear your voice.

Another from a week after that: the color’s returned to his face, and he’s recording from what looks like a penthouse apartment. Sleek, modern; a small white dog napping on the bed beside him. He smiles, looks like he got his teeth fixed, looks like he’s no longer carrying around the weight of the world. Talks endlessly and excitedly about some tournament. Talks so fast you can barely keep up. Talks around words tinged with languages you don’t understand.

Seungcheol wins a championship. Records a drunk vlog from the same night, hair soaked through with god-knows-what—water, champagne, you don’t know. But he looks radiant. Looks like the culmination of two decades of dreaming. He looks happy, free, at peace. He looks like the reason he let you go, why he had to go away.

You scroll to the bottom of the files. Pause at the last video, dated seven months before the term started.

“Hi,” he says, and you can immediately tell everything is all wrong. Seungcheol’s in the dark, face only visible enough to see the tears tracking on his cheeks. “This is going to be the last one of these I make. I don’t know if you, uh—I’m sure you aren’t paying attention to me—my career—anymore, but. I, um. I got hurt. Ruptured my ACL. They’re not sure I’ll…” A sob escapes him. Has you wanting to climb through the screen to hold him, thumb away his tears, tell him everything is going to be okay. “They don’t know if I’ll ever play again.”

Seungcheol no longer looks happy, free, at peace. “Maybe you’ll be happy to hear that,” he continues. “Maybe it’ll help you to know I threw away our relationship for nothing.”

Cut to black.

The sudden silence is deafening. Has you desperately clicking back to the video you’d skipped, the one from just after your breakup. Seungcheol looks the same in that one, too, like the life has been drained out of him.

I don’t know why I’m doing this. It’s not like I’ll ever show these to you now, since I…

I’m sure I owe you an explanation. To be honest, I don’t know what I’m doing, I just—things have been so hard, and I’m still trying to make sense of it all. I feel like my life went from zero to a hundred before I could even blink and now I’m scrambling. I didn’t think it was fair to—to drag you through that. Me being away, moving to an entirely different continent. I have faith we could do it, I just. I don’t know, baby, I don’t…

You deserve to have your own life. Be your own person. I’m so scared that the world will never see you for who you are—so beautiful and intelligent and kind. You don’t deserve to be reduced to my partner. And if you ever see this, I know you’re gonna roll your eyes. Probably call me a mean name because I took the choice away from you, because you think I’m trying to be selfless and heroic, and you’d be right. It’s not fair, and I wish I could tell you I’m sorry.

I wish I could just… pluck out my brain and give it to you, because even if it killed me to do it, at least it makes sense to me. And I don’t—I don’t want you to think I’m not hurting. I’ve been sick to my stomach since I left. I know I’m making a mistake, I know I am, I just—how do I do what I think is right in the long-run when it’s not what I want right now, or ever?

I don’t want to get over you. I don’t want you to get over me, and that’s how you know I’m not acting selflessly, because you should. I want you to always be happy, I just… wish it was with me.

So, I’m going to keep making these. I’m going to take you along for the ride, wherever it takes us, because you should be here but I can only hope you can one day understand why you’re not. I’m so—I’m so sorry, I don’t…

I’m sorry.

I love you.

You fall asleep and dream that you were the one meant to meet him at that restaurant.

The first thing you do is make a call to your mother.

“Could you send another container of yakgwa?”

On the other end of the line, your mother tuts, motherly intuition audibly kicking into overdrive. Is probably wearing that all-knowing, sly grin she always does when you try to be coy and evasive. “What happened to the last container I sent?”

“Ah, you know Kaori loves those. They barely lasted an hour after I told her what was in there.”

She hums an acknowledgement. Sounds like she takes a sip of tea. “I remember someone else being quite fond of those cookies, too.”

“Well, they are the most popular cookies in the country, so.”

After haranguing you into admitting they’re for Seungcheol and not your roommate, your mother promises to send them quickly. A few days at most, which buys you enough time to figure out how you’re going to approach the man in question.

The vlogs have turned your entire world upside-down. Answered questions you hadn’t even known you had. Took all that anger and resentment you’d been holding onto and set it free, and now you’re just left with… a void. Want to mend things, and it makes you wonder if such a thing is even possible, if it’s too late, but you don’t let those thoughts get very far.

Instead, you let them spur you into action. Have you sitting in front of your laptop at your desk, office hours long since over, silence creeping in the more the department empties. The thrum of the airconditioning and the tick-tick-tick of the clock are all the only company you have.

You worry if it’ll show on camera, how out of sorts you feel: sweating from the nerves, dabbing at your hairline; cheeks warm to the touch. But you suck in a breath anyway, steel yourself. Look at your webcam and the daunting red circle…

And start recording.

He hadn’t gotten it at first. Not really.

There’d been a container of yakgwa outside his door with his USB drive taped to the top of it. No note—not that he needed one to know who it was from, but he wasn’t sure what it was. A goodbye? A please fuck off forever and never contact me again?

He’d just taken them inside. Ate too many of the cookies while feeling sorry for himself. Maybe had a glass or two of wine to compound the issue, and never, ever considered contacting you. Didn’t think he could bear it if you never wanted to see him again, but he just…

Well, he was drunk and alone and he missed you, and he’d rewatched all those videos he recorded a million times before when he was like this, so what was a million and one?

It’d been the same as every time before: he smiled at the happy parts, cried at all his old wounds. Wanted to reach through the screen and strangle his past self for including that part about the blind date, because he never wanted to date anyone who wasn’t you, why would he say that, felt mortified at the thought of you watching that—

And then there it was.

All the way at the bottom. A new video. One that hadn’t been recorded by him—

Hi, Cheol, you say, and that’s all it takes to reduce him to a sobbing, yearning mess. I’m not sure what to say here. I don’t really record much—sometimes for lectures when the professors are too busy, but never anything personal like this, but I watched every single one you made for me and I thought I should return the favor.

I wanted to tell you everything I’ve been up to since you left, but it hasn’t been much. I got my degree. Tutored a lot in undergrad—the same thing I’m tutoring you in now, actually. I was good at it and it felt good to have something that was mine, you know? I almost moved for grad school. Thought for a while I was going to wind up in New York, but then my parents divorced and it felt like too much, too scary, so I stayed. Kaori also stayed, so we got an apartment together. It’s not much, definitely not as nice as your place, but it’s good enough.

I don’t think I ever told you, but she was seeing a guy for a bit and he was… obsessed with you, to say the least. Thought you were the coolest person in the world. They aren’t seeing each other anymore. Ended pretty badly, but—speaking of which, maybe steer clear of Student Services for a while, too.

Sometimes it felt like failure that I wound up staying here. That I had scholarships from all these far-away, prestigious places and didn’t take advantage of them. That I gave into my fear. And now… I don’t know. Maybe there’s a reason I stayed behind. Maybe there’s a reason you ended up back here, too.

Whatever happens—I don’t want you to think I still blame you. Kaori says we do the best we can with what we’ve got at the time, and I understand now that’s what you did. Even though it hurt me, you were trying to protect me. I get it now. And I’m sorry you had to go through all of that alone. I can’t imagine how hard it must’ve been to go to all these places you didn’t know. To have to deal with your injury, the loss of a dream.

You said in one of your videos that you just want me to be happy, and that’s all I want for you, too, whatever that looks like.

Here’s my address if you ever want to come by to talk.

I love you, too.

—and then he’d been up and out the door, feeling stone cold sober, running to the front of his building to wait for his ride.

Felt like the drive took hours. Must’ve hit every red light between his apartment and yours. Took the steps two at a time just to get to your door faster.

There’s a man already standing outside your door when he gets there. One that looks shocked to see him, stars in his eyes, and when Seungcheol says, “Oh, you must be Kaori’s ex,” he looks more like he wants the earth to swallow him whole. Embarrassed in front of his idol.

He knocks on your door and gets no response. Knocks again, harder this time, and he has to try really hard to stifle his laughter when your voice yells from the inside, “Fuck off, Kenji, I already told you she’s not here!”

“It’s me,” Seungcheol yells back.

There’s quiet again. Just enough time for it to feel like his heart is going to beat right out of his chest and follow Kaori’s ex down the hall.

Then you’re yanking the door open—slowly, so slowly, like you’re scared it’s not actually him. Your eyes are brimming with tears when they meet his own, and he doesn’t let himself think, just goes on instinct, when he grabs for you, hands on your cheeks, and presses his lips to yours.

Somehow you taste the same.

Somehow you taste like redemption.

You taste like home.

Seungcheol kisses you until the tears slow. Kisses you until the universe realigns, until he could map your mouth in the dark. Kisses you until all you’re all he knows again.

When he pulls away, you’re gripping at his sweatshirt, don’t want to let him go. He presses his forehead to yours, offers up a million more apologies, starts talking nonsense. Says he’s going to drop microeconomics, what the hell does he know, he barely has a passing grade anyway, what does it matter, he’s such an idiot—

And then you say, “You came back,” and nothing else matters.

“I always will.”

(Later on, as you’re trying to steady your breathing, slick with sweat, your thigh thrown over Seungcheol’s hip as he stares down at you, dopey smile on his face, you say, “Choi Seungcheol, don’t you dare drop that class. I have worked my ass off to get you to barely-passing.”)

if you’ve made it this far thank you so much for reading! i am still very new at writing for seventeen, so i hope this was acceptable. i'm now going to throw myself into the warped tour vernon fic and will hopefully not go another 7+ months without posting anything. 😭

i would love to hear your thoughts! <3

#seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #seungcheol angst #seungcheol au #scoups angst #seungcheol imagines #scoups imagines #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #jewel writes

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always-just-red · 4 months ago

Note

Hii! I've seen some Pregnancy scenario with LaD's men, but I have this HC-- personally for Sylus. That when fem!reader got pregnant, he didn't really understand how the Pregnancy hormones work, until he experienced one and he got confused how he should act or react because it's feels like he's walking on landime, one wrong move/word, she'd throwing tantrum or being sulky at him

I've heard from my Friend who got pregnant before, when she craving something and her Husband showing any form that he can't fulfill what she's craves, she felt her heart broken, and she'd sulk and acted as if he just cheated on her. The problem is, she always craved something that didn't even exist at that moment😂, she's craving certain type of Mango while it's not even that Mango season, so nobody selling it. He literally being desperate to negotiate with her cravings

So... Can I request a scenario smiliar like that? It doesn't have to be mango, or any foods. Just... how Pregnancy hormones or Cravings could make Sylus got frustated lol

Aaaaa anon this is adorable, thank you! We love making Sylus suffer in cute and harmless ways. He's always asking for trouble, so let's give him some! 😌💅

Something Sweet

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: Sylus knows how to get what he wants. Getting what you want might be a little more tricky...

Genre: fluff!

Warnings/Additional tags: female!reader, IMPLIED pregnant!reader (pregnancy not actually mentioned or described- just hormones being hormones ✌), established relationship, canon pet names, a lil bit of roleplay because Sylus refuses to leave his Mystic Adventure era

| Word count: 2.1k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Sy, d’you know what I’m craving right now?”

“Always, sweetie.” Sylus doesn’t look up from his book. “Not now, though. I’m tired.”

Morning sunlight streams through the gaps in your living room curtains, casting pale yellow shapes over the floor. A shard of it has been inching over the sofa towards Sylus, the sharp edge now grazing the side of his face. He shifts, ever so slightly, away from its touch. His eyes are open but heavy.

“No,” you scold, leaning forwards to swat at him with your book. “That’s not what I meant, you narcissist.”

He chuckles with his usual low timbre— his gaze still not lifting— and the sound is deeper for how close he is to sleep. He wants to give in to it, you can tell. When he turns a page, the movement is languid, soft. You’re losing him.

“Sy,” you say again, then with more of a whine: “Sylus.”

His eyes flutter closed as he draws in a deep breath. His hand raises, his fingers stretching to pull his reading glasses from his face. They’re set down on the arm of the chair beside him, along with the book, and he turns to you with a smile. “What are you craving, sweetie?”

You rest your book on your stomach. Your legs are stretched out over Sylus’s lap, and his hand finds one of your feet, massaging an ache from it as you begin your speech. “Do you remember that café we used to go to? The one we found when it started raining in the park that day? We didn’t think it was open, but then the owner knocked on the window and said we could—”

“Yeah?” His hand moves to your other foot.

“Well, they make these—”

“Macarons.”

“You remember?”

His smile widens like he remembers vividly. “Kitten, how could I forget? I’m still jealous of that sweet little treat. You’ve never made that face for me, and believe me—” he wiggles one of your toes— “I’ve tried.”

That had been one of the only times you’d truly caught him off-guard, back when your feelings for one another were unnamed and uncharted. The rain had been drumming against the café window, and you’d heaved Sylus’s damp coat from your shoulders— giggled at the raised eyebrow and the sarcastic ‘…thanks’ he’d given in turn. One hot drink later, you were lifting a pastel pink macaron to your lips, taking a delicate bite and failing to stifle a tiny, almost euphoric moan.

You remember realising yourself: blushing profusely and expecting some remark, some ridicule, but none ever came. Sylus’s eyes were wide, dark, fixed upon your still parted mouth.

After a few of the longest seconds of your life, he’d dragged the plate with the rest of the macarons away from you and muttered something about how you had better not do that again.

“They’re still the sweetest things I’ve ever tasted,” you tease now, just as you’d wrestled him for that plate back then, set on eating every last macaron.

He makes a hmph as he idly runs a finger over the part of your foot he knows is ticklish. His expression is distinctly grumpy, but it falters as you laugh and try to writhe away from him.

You’re quickly out of breath. “Sylus?”

“Mmm?”

He glances up at you and you smile sweetly, head tilting. “Please?”

His coat on a rainy day. The entire plate of macarons in the end; he’s never been very good at denying you anything. For the first time since you’d stirred him from his book, however, he appears genuinely regretful. “You’re forgetting something, sweetie,” he murmurs gently. “Why did we stop going to that café, hmm?”

You shrug.

“It closed, kitten,” he sighs. “Months ago.”

“What?”

Not only did you already know that— you actually visited the café on its final day. The owner was telling you stories: he was moving somewhere warmer, closer to family, and he needed all the funds he could get. Sylus had snuck an obscene amount of money into the man’s tip jar whilst you acted as a distraction. You both had fond memories of that place; it was nice to make one more.

It's all coming back to you and you’re struck by a wave of nostalgia. You want to go back there. You can’t go back there. It doesn’t exist anymore, and you’ll never taste sweetness like that again.

Your mouth has gone dry.

“Sweetie?” Sylus prompts, because he notices you’re far away. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” your voice wobbles, “I just really wanted… I mean, I really needed one of those—”

“… Macarons?” he finishes for you.

You burst into tears, and one day, you’ll tally this as another time you took the man by surprise. His face drops instantly— lost, for a moment— before he slides your legs from his lap, allowing him to lean closer. “No, no, no,” he coos, “don’t cry, kitten, please. I didn’t mean to… well, I didn’t realise…”

He doesn’t know what to say, and he always knows what to say. He set you off with a single word and now he’s stuttering like sentences are all possible landmines. He tries his luck again, putting a foot forward: “Listen to me. I’ll go to the store. Would that be alright? Or perhaps there’s another café that could—”

You explode: sobbing even more viscerally. Your whole body shakes with it.

Sylus has frozen. He watches on helplessly as you cry, blabbering about the macarons you can’t have and the café you can’t return to. Across the room, even Mephisto has hunched down on his perch, though he issues a few, spirited squawks, maybe in solidarity with your breakdown, or maybe in protest of it.

It’s like a catalyst. You cry more: burying your face in your hands because what the hell is wrong with you? It’s not a big deal. It’s not a big deal, so why do you feel sick? And then there’s Sylus— your Sylus, devoted and adoring— and here you are, punishing him for something beyond his control.

You look up from your hands, desperate to apologise, but he’s gone. More shards of sunlight paint his empty seat and catch all that’s left of him: a few crow feathers, glistening like onyx. Mephisto is gone too, and the room is quiet, save for you snivelling and feeling sorry for yourself.

“Sylus?” you call out into the empty morning.

It isn’t his fault, not really. You wouldn’t want to be around you, either.

…

Something brushes over your cheek, and your tired eyes open.

The sun has ebbed back behind the curtains and the ceiling light has taken its place, casting artificial highlights over everything in reach: the coffee table, the closed-up flowers at its centre and a mug of tea that’s gone cold. Sylus is in front of you too, backlit and soft like a daydream, and he—

He left you.

“Sy?” you whisper warily, because the context is coming back to you slowly, piece by piece.

“Hey,” he coaxes, voice as honeyed as whatever’s turned the air sweet.

You blink, rubbing sleep from your eyes and relishing the warmth of his hand on your face. Then you slap his shoulder. “Hey, really? That’s all you’ve got— hey?”

He’s kneeling for you— on the floor, beside the couch— so you can meet his eyes. He settles his chin thoughtfully on the edge of the seat, his nose almost touching yours. “What would you prefer, sweetie?” His lips are close to yours too. “Good evening, my beloved? Greetings, my queen?”

“How about sorry?” you snap, because he isn’t cute and he isn’t charming.

He pouts. “Why sorry?”

“Because you left, Sylus!” You sit up straighter, and your phone tumbles out of your lap. Its screen is still lit-up from a few hours ago, showcasing a very one-sided conversation and a rant you never actually sent, because it’s still in the text box.

You vaguely recall writing it, so you try to snatch the phone from Sylus’s hand as he plucks it from the floor. He’s more alert than you. More co-ordinated. He keeps it out of your grasp as he reads the unsent message, an eyebrow raising.

It was a lot of things— colourful, creative— not entirely tasteful. “My, my, your highness,” he tuts, “so this is the treatment your valiant knight receives for undertaking your quest?”

“You’re not valiant,” you rebuke, and you manage to wrestle your phone from him. “You’re—”

“A heartless prick,” he finishes casually, quoting your message with a chuckle. He takes your free hand and kisses the back of it, refusing to let you pull away. “And whose fault is that, I wonder?”

“You can have your heart back.”

“Nope. You’re stuck with it, sweetie. With me, too. Now—” he sits back on his knees— “would you please ask me about my quest?”

The analogy is lost on you. You sit fully up, looking down at him. “What quest, oh valiant knight?”

His lips form a smirk; he just loves when you play along. “Close your eyes.”

You do— whether you’re queen or not. You hear him shifting aside, and then there’s a snap of his fingers. The air changes, warping like thick, liquid smoke, and you know he’s using his Evol. “Open,” he commands.

And there on the coffee table, freshly teleported, is a plate of macarons the colour of cherry blossoms. As if anticipating the comparison, Sylus pulls a handful of pink petals from his pocket and blows them up into the air so they can spiral down on the scene. He watches them. Then you. “Ta-da,” he proclaims, his tone dry but full of humour.

You’re prone to hyperbole nowadays, but this is without a doubt the best thing you have ever seen.

“Sylus,” you gasp in disbelief, “how did you—”

“It doesn’t matter,” he says; the story isn’t for today, and he’s very, very tired. A few weeks from now he’ll tell you about how he tracked down the contact information of the owner of the old café. How he spent an hour on the phone bargaining for a certain macaron recipe, and several more hours in the kitchen, trying to get them perfect. “Now, they might not be exactly the same, sweetie. But I did try to—”

You surge forwards, capturing his lips in a kiss. It’s so impulsive— so reckless— that you almost tumble down from the couch, but he catches you, steadies you, and your hand is gripping the soft of his hair as he kisses you back. Slowly, his mouth not leaving yours, he lifts you back into your seat.

“Easy, sweetie.” His voice is low as he pulls away, and though he turns his face from you, you can make out the blush on his cheeks. He settles back into his kneeling position on the floor. “I have one more surprise for you. Do try to control yourself.”

He retrieves a small, complete flower from his pocket, albeit one a little dreary from its journey. Sylus smiles triumphantly as he holds it out to you, and he was right; you do want to throw yourself at him. Instead, you take the flower and lean forwards, tucking it behind his ear before he can protest. He’d tilted closer to help you, and he sits back with an exasperated tsk when you’re done.

“It suits you,” you grin.

He yawns. “Everything does.”

You don’t want to get into trouble, so you shimmy to the very edge of your seat and carefully— showing tremendous restraint— reach out to take his face in your hands. “You’re amazing, Sy. Thank you for doing all of this for me, but…”

“But…?”

“I missed you. I like macarons, yeah,” you smile, “but I’d much rather have you.”

This time, he can’t hide his face and the way it goes pink, like the blossom behind his ear. His cheeks are warm beneath your palms. “You couldn’t have said that before I spent the whole day—”

His voice is strangled as you keel towards him— slow and deliberate— to thread your arms around him and pull him into a hug. He tenses for a moment, then wraps his arms around you too: holding you tightly, keeping you from falling any further. You can feel his hand stroking your back and he hums as you give him a gentle squeeze.

“Such a lovely moment, kitten,” he muses, your head on his shoulder. “I do hope it’s sincere, and not— say— an excuse for someone to get her paws on the macarons behind me.”

There’s another moment of quiet.

“Don’t be silly, Sy,” you retort, but your mouth is full, your cheeks are stuffed, and not a single word of it is intelligible.

#🖋rach is actually writing #sylus x reader #sylus #love and deepspace #lads sylus #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #qin che #sylus x mc #sylus x you #lads x reader #lads #lnds #l&ds

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qtboni · 1 year ago

Text

╰﹒ 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒, 𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 !

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Reader

OVERVIEW: Simon woke up to you sleeping far away from him in the bed so he pulls you back to him <//3

C/W: none just clingy simon missing u in his sleep (pure fluff) !!

W/C: 944 bubs

Simon shifted in his bed, feeling the empty coolness beside him. He reached out, wanting to feel your warmth, but his hand met nothing but empty sheets and bed covers.

"Love..?" He whispers faintly, his voice filled with a quiet desperation to find you.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Simon slowly opens them to find you there, on the other side of the bed, lying with your back turned to him.

He lets out a quiet chuckle at the position you're in, your legs flung out in a starfish, snoring the night away. It's a silly sight, but it cracks him up, and he can't help but chuckle softly.

"Baby..." Simon sleepily whines to himself, calling out to you. "C'mere.."

Simon gently moves closer to you, pulling on the sheets to free himself. You feel his arm encircle your waist as he pulls you towards his warm body, spooning you in his arms.

Your skin meets his, and the warmth from his body causes your heart to skip a beat. You feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathes, feeling peaceful and safe in his embrace.

As he holds you close, Simon's thoughts drift to you. He thinks about how soft he is for you, how you make him feel alive and whole, how he doesn't want to let go, ever.

You're his everything, his world, and he can't imagine life without you. He feels his heart swell with love for you, and the need to be close to you and hold you tight, to never let you go.

With you in his arms, Simon feels complete. He would do anything to keep you close, to love and cherish you every day for the rest of his life.

You're the love of his life, and he will never forget the moment he first held you close, feeling your heart beat against his own, and knowing that he had found his soulmate.

As he holds you close, Simon's body moves instinctively, nuzzling his face in your neck, wanting to feel your warmth, to be closer to you. He wraps his arms around you tighter, unable to bear the thought of ever being apart from you again.

The warmth coming from his body slowly roused you from your slumber, your eyes fluttering open as Simon's arms tightened around your waist. You could feel his heart pounding against your back, beating in time with yours, and your heart skipped a beat in response.

"Simon?" You called out to him, voice still slightly hoarse from sleep, and you could hear the smile in his voice as he responded.

"I'm here, love," he whispered, his voice low and full of love, and you could feel his body pressing up to yours, wrapping around you like a warm blanket. His hands softly carressing your waist and hips. You felt his breath upon your neck, his heart beating in yours, and you felt a deep sense of peace wash over you.

"I love you," he whispered, almost inaudible.

As his arms wrapped around you, you felt a rush of warmth and comfort wash over you. His voice was low and gentle, and you could feel the love and intensity in every word.

You loved him more with each passing moment; each time he held you, each time he told you how much he loved you, and each time you felt his heart beating against yours.

"I love you, too, Simon," you whispered back, further relaxing into his embrace as you pecked his bicep that was hugging you close by your shoulders.

You could feel the love and intensity in every part of his body, from the warmth of his breath against your neck to the way his heart beat in time with yours. You knew that you would always be by his side, loving him and cherishing him for all eternity.

As you drifted back to sleep, his arms wrapped around you tightly, unwilling to let you go and wishing to always be this close. You could feel the love in every part of his body, and you knew that this was the love that could never be broken.

Simon pressed a gentle kiss to the nape of your neck, his breath warm and soothing against your skin, and you felt a pang of love and comfort wash over you.

His arms wrapped around you tightly, unwilling to let you go even for a moment, and he held you against him, feeling your heartbeat against his chest.

"Goodnight, love," he whispered, his voice low and filled with all the love he felt for you as he cuddled you close.

"G'night..." you sighed dreamily and closed your eyes.

As you drifted off to sleep, with your head resting against his chest, Simon couldn't help the rush of affection for you. He knew that you were the love of his life, that he would do anything for you, and that he couldn't imagine a future without you by his side.

Holding you close to him, he felt your heart beating slowly and regularly against his chest, and he felt a deep sense of peace wash over him. Every fiber of his being told him that he loved you, that you were everything he had ever wanted in life, and that he would always be there to protect you, to love you, and to cherish you.

He whispers your name softly, almost inaudible, as he drifted off to sleep, holding you tightly in his embrace. The love and intensity in his voice, in his touch, and in his eyes, was overwhelming, and he knew that you felt it too.

navi / masterlist !

13K notes · View notes

ikeuverse · 6 months ago

Text

my world | psh

pairing: sunghoon x fem!reader genres: angst, smut, fluff wc: 14.3k+

꒰ 𝅄 warnings ꒱ : alcohol consumption, swearing, unprotected sex (do it safely), cumming inside, arguing, Sunghoon is completely surrendered to yn. sorry, i can't see him if not cute in this story, this man needs to be taken care of. lmk if i forgot anything else.

꒰ 𝅄 synopsis ꒱ : you're back and you owe Sunghoon an explanation for your departure, but it looks like it's going to be a bit tricky to get him to listen to you.

꒰ 𝅄 notes ꒱ : after so many requests i've come up with the second part, and possibly the final one because i can't think of a continuation after that. it took me a long time because i had a huge blockage and i don't know if i'm satisfied with what came out of here, but i just wanted to give these two a cosy feel. and for you who read my work. i hope you like it!

TAGLIST: this isn't necessarily a taglist, but i decided to tag the people who asked for part two of the story, so… @seunghancore @sunghoonizz @indigoez @heestarry @yunjinhuhjennifer @pollito-sims4 @srhnyx @enhalusional @moon368 @madustos @capri-cuntz @stellanam @flaminghotyourmom @jayshadoww @sovlidago @randommmmmmvheusbs @rjssierjrie @rikiversesworld @lovingvoidgoatee

꒰ 𝅄 part 1 | masterlist ꒱

Avoiding work on Friday nights was one of the first things Sunghoon did after you left. He didn't want to deal with the fact that that particular day was when he found you sitting at one of the tables in his bar with Stella, waiting for his and Jay's shift to finish so you could all drink together.

Now nothing else made sense, and those nights were filled with his bed, a cosy blanket and your mind wandering back to the last night you and he spent together. Sunghoon could feel the touch of your fingers on his skin, the way his name was whispered by you. It felt like an endless melody. Sleeping next to him had a different meaning after so long friendship.

But then the bitter taste of disappointment invaded him with the same intensity. Less than twenty-four hours after you told him you were in love, Sunghoon read the worst letter he could have read in his entire life. He had always wanted to travel and get to know countries, but suddenly he had a grudge against Switzerland because he knew that's where you were apparently staying. Why so far away? Why did you have to go somewhere with no explanation? A letter wasn't enough because it only said what he already knew: it had all been your father's plan. Sunghoon knew how much he controlled your life, but the thought of him causing it all made the boy's blood boil.

"Fuck everything" was what Sunghoon repeated most often every time he remembered something related to you.

How he remembered the first day he saw you at university, or how he heard you call him and greet him every time you met. He remembers every moment you were by his side, with your arms entwined or your head resting on his shoulder.

It was hard to forget every little moment when you and he almost kissed when you were drunk. Faces millimeters apart, heart racing and breathless… But then the day in your flat made it all worthwhile. While he was between your legs, kissing you with all the love he'd ever felt and fucking you on your kitchen worktop. Sunghoon could repeat that day a million times over, even though afterward you went and left him the next day. It was the one thing he didn't want to go through.

"You need to snap out of it, man" Jay threw himself on the sofa in Sunghoon's flat, sitting next to him on Saturday night. At times he was the only one who managed to make his friend feel a little better as they talked.

"How?" Sunghoon hugged the cushion, snuggling further into the sofa and staring at the television. He felt Jay's gaze on him as he listened to his friend talk again.

“I don't know, we—” Jay paused for a moment, sliding his body across the leather of the soft sofa and sighing loudly “How about we go out for a while? Just the boys.”

“I think I'd rather stay in my apartment for the next few years” Sunghoon replied.

Jay sighed again, reaching up and snatching the pillow from Sunghoon's lap. He scrambled up, wanting to take back the one thing he was hugging for comfort at the moment.

That's when he saw his friend's face in pure concern, but with something else that he couldn't decipher. Jay was serious most of the time, no one knew what he was feeling – apart from Stella – but Sunghoon knew his best friend so well that he could tell something was wrong.

“Jay” he called out, seeing that Jay was swallowing and straightening up on the sofa.

“Right, I can't lie” Jay closed his eyes ”I need to get you out of the house today and take you to a club on the other side of town.”

It was Sunghoon's turn to turn from curious to confused. What was Jay talking about, anyway? And why did he have to take him to the other side of town today? They worked in a bar, not quite a club, but pretty much the same thing: loud music, drinking and lots of people. Why go to a place that would be practically the same as his work environment?

“Why?” he asked Jay.

The older man was debating whether to say something so direct or simply make up an excuse to drag Sunghoon along. But Jay couldn't lie like he had said, it was almost impossible not to tell the truth to the eyes that stared at him so expectantly.

“Because Stella's taking Y/n there too” he said ”She's back, man.”

A ringing sound passed through Sunghoon's ears, as if the sound pierced his eardrums and he felt an extremely strong pressure in his head. Grateful to be sitting down and knowing that he would get this reaction, Jay was already getting him something to drink from the coffee table. Even though Sunghoon couldn't swallow anything or move, at least Jay was trying.

“Jay, stop fooling around.”

“I swear to God” he whined ”I found out today, Stella didn't want to tell me anything and just asked me to get you out of the house.”

“Why?” Sunghoon stared at a fixed point in the room, everything he was hearing seeming like a dream.

“I know as much as you do” Jay touched Sunghoon's shoulder, making him finally face his best friend ”It seems that only Stella and Alicia know that she's back, no one else. And a lot is going on that not even my girlfriend, Y/n's best friend, knows about.”

Sunghoon debated for a moment whether he should go to where Jay wanted to take him, because things were getting more and more confusing.

You went away and said goodbye in a letter, then you came back and only your two best friends know. At least about your return, because something is going on that even Stella doesn't know about, according to what Jay is saying. So… What was your father up to? That was the thought Sunghoon had as he forced his legs to get up from the sofa, resting his hands on the seat and standing in the middle of the room.

He didn't want to hope for anything at all, and he didn't know what your reaction would be, or even his own, seeing you so many months after your departure. Without exchanging a message, a single phone call. How would you see him afterwards? How would he treat you when he saw you face to face?

“I'm just going to take a shower” Sunghoon sighed ”I hope this doesn't go to shit, Jongseong.”

“Don't call me that” Jay pouted, which was ignored by Sunghoon as he headed for his room to shower and get ready.

Jay also hoped it wouldn't go to shit because no one knew what would happen. But he and Stella hoped that you and Sunghoon would at least talk.

If it weren't for the primal tension between your meeting with Sunghoon, Jay could easily say that he was the most nervous in that entire club. Firstly because his girlfriend trusted him enough to ask Sunghoon to leave the house, but he knew he wouldn't be able to get his best friend out so easily. So telling the truth had been the best course of action. That was why he was walking through the door of that club, the colored lights spinning back and forth and the loud sound almost piercing his insides.

He kept repeating to himself a mantra that things could go smoothly if Stella had already poured you and Alicia some drinks, while he walked in with Sunghoon and Jake. The latter was trying his best to get Sunghoon to walk around people and not turn around and go home. They both knew he could do this at any moment, so Jay led the way into the bar while keeping Sunghoon in the middle and Jake behind in case the other wanted to leave without being seen.

None of them could imagine what it was like for Sunghoon to deal with all of this, although Jay and Jake were just as curious to know what was behind everything that was happening.

Meanwhile, Sunghoon was going over in his mind what he would say to you when he saw you in the first place. Say hello and run off? Or just wave and smile as he went to the bar and got drunk? Maybe he'd do the latter – and the one that was most recommended – because he felt like he might pass out at any moment.

“Right” Jay stopped walking for a moment, turning around and almost slamming his body into Sunghoon, who stopped walking abruptly. But that didn't stop Jake from tripping and slamming into his friend, muttering curses and standing next to the taller man “Let's get a drink before we meet them.”

“I can hang around the bar and you two go find your girlfriends” Sunghoon wanted to get out of there right away and would try anything to make that happen.

“You come with us, wise guy” Jake took him by the shoulders and led him to the bar.

Ordering strong drinks wasn't a big deal for three people who owned a very trendy bar on the other side of town. This could even inspire new drinks at the establishment, Jay thought as he saw colorful liquids and completely different names on the menu. Something that pleased even the palates of the three who sat at the bar and drank three glasses in a row.

Every minute in that bar seemed like an eternity and the fact that Sunghoon didn't want to face the reality that, almost certainly, he was in the same environment as you after such a long time. It wasn't as if he knew how to act because even though he was your friend and had been hiding the fact that he was in love with you for years, he had never gone so long without seeing you. And even less had something so intimate happened that you left without giving any explanation.

“Stella's calling” Jay picked up his cell phone after a long time talking to Sunghoon and Jake, trying to find the courage to get out of there too and pretend that they were randomly in the same club.

He picked it up and chatted very quickly, neither of the other two paying any attention because they were apprehensive about what would happen next.

“Alicia texted me” Jake finished swallowing the drink in his glass ”They're bringing Y/n to the bar.”

“Is it now or never?” Jay tried to smile, knowing that it looked more like a grimace to the two in front of him.

Sunghoon didn't even dare move, leaning against the bar counter as he played with the glass between his fingers. He needed to occupy himself with something other than the fact that he was only a few minutes away from seeing you again. His heart felt like it was going to burst out of his mouth and if it hadn't been for the alcohol warming his muscles, he could have sworn he was shaking right now.

“Hey, guys!” Stella's voice had a strange effect on Sunghoon, who cringed and closed his eyes tightly.

“Baby, you over here” Jay lied so badly, Sunghoon could laugh at that awful performance as he heard the kissing sounds of the couple greeting each other. Then it was Jake and Alicia's turn, the same greeting followed until his friends' voices ceased and he concentrated on the only thing that mattered at that moment.

“Y/n? You're back?” Jake was smiling, his tone a little more theatrical than Jay's. Sunghoon knew that he hadn't been the first to greet you because his best friend was so nervous that he could scream and run off with the other Park if it were possible.

“Jake, hey. Yes, I am!” you sounded excited, and cheerful and hadn't seen Sunghoon who was leaning back against the bar. He waved for the barman to fill his glass and as soon as he did, the liquid almost overflowed from the glass between his fingers.

“What are you doing here?” Alicia asked.

Sunghoon took the glass and brought it to his lips, the burning sensation going down his throat was the best in that second when he heard Jay answer.

“We came on a boys' night out. Me, Jake, and Sunghoon” he felt Jay's hand touch the middle of his back. Sunghoon almost spat out his drink out of nervousness, it was time to turn around.

Everything seemed to stop the second he laid eyes on you. Nothing seemed to have changed, except that you were even more beautiful. If that were possible. He pressed his fingers tightly against the body of the drink while keeping his gaze on yours, which, strangely, you held. Nothing on his face seemed to scream astonishment at seeing you there and Sunghoon couldn't tell if that was a good thing or not. He swore he knew you well enough until a few months ago before you left. But after that, he didn't know who Y/n was standing in front of him at that moment.

“Sunghoon” you said his name so gracefully. He almost gave in to all the pressure and the nervous looks among the group of friends staring at the scene before them.

“Y/n” Sunghoon said in the same way, raising his glass and drinking the entire contents in one go.

He suddenly felt his eyes sting because the last time he'd seen you, he'd left your apartment swearing he'd see you at his bar the next night. When he could finally ask you to be his girl, as he had always dreamed. And now here you are, as someone who took his heart to Switzerland and came back without a single explanation.

He saw you open your mouth to say something as the two couples of friends disappeared to the bar to order drinks. Sunghoon swallowed, wanting to turn around and order more alcohol. It was the only thing that could keep him standing there without doing something ridiculous. But he knew that wasn't going to happen.

“We—”

“I need to go to the bathroom” he interrupted you and he didn't know why, or maybe he did, he just didn't want to feel like crying in front of you. Sunghoon had whined enough for months and the pride that engulfed him was enough for him not to do it in front of you.

Not when he'd already had too much to drink and certainly not when you were looking on with so many emotions at once.

Sunghoon hurried off towards the club toilets, stumbling a few times and apologizing to everyone he bumped into. He hadn't meant to do that, to look like a runaway and a lovesick idiot. But he knew he couldn't predict a reaction, not when he had no way of denying that his feelings for you had never gone away.

He wanted to have stopped feeling anything for you, wanted to have turned that hurt and sadness into anger, and moved on. But every time Sunghoon thought he could move on, you appeared in one of his dreams. Or Stella would comment on something nostalgic involving you, making him remember how much he loved you.

It could be a ploy by his friends to never forget you, or that your best friend somehow wanted to keep you in mind because she might know something. Sunghoon knew it was, but he also had no way of confronting Stella and asking her to tell him. He knew that you might have asked for secrecy and he wanted to respect that, but he couldn't help himself because it all came back at once. And that's why he ran to one of the bathroom cubicles and locked himself in, sitting on the toilet and taking a deep breath.

What he wanted most was for you to come back to him, but why was Sunghoon wishing he wasn't around you at that moment? Why so much conflict when all he had to do was get out of that bathroom and talk to you?

“Hey Hoon, it's me, Jake” the boy's voice snapped him out of his thoughts, making Sunghoon get up from the toilet and quickly open the door ”Are you okay?”

A moment of silence and Jake noticed Sunghoon's eyes shining brighter than usual. He knew it could happen and it was understandable why it had happened so quickly.

“You don't have to answer, it's okay, man” he said, slipping one of his arms around Sunghoon's shoulders “What do you say we get drunk until you forget your name?

“I'd love to, but—”

“But just think about the drink, at least she's back. We can think about that later, okay?”

He wanted to believe Jake's words and how they could comfort him, even if he was still nervous. So Sunghoon tried to smile, finding a little strength in the friend next to him who was slowly getting him out of the bathroom.

Doing what Jake had said that night might not be so bad. Drink a lot, talk and think later.

Sunghoon's last memory was of going to the bar with Jake and ordering three more drinks. After that, everything became a blur and now he had the biggest headache in years.

He was like a frat boy waking up the day after a party smelling of booze and with some random girl sleeping next to him. In contrast, Sunghoon smelled of soap, his pajamas were clean and no girl was next to him, but the messy bed indicated that he hadn't slept alone. Or so it seemed.

“What the fuck happened?” he muttered to himself as he groped around the bedside table for his cell phone or something, finding it practically dead.

Now the headache seemed a little worse as Sunghoon got up and sat on the bed, his back against the headboard as he sighed and tried to remember what had happened.

It couldn't be that bad or his friends would already be at the foot of the bed shaking Sunghoon and demanding explanations, so he could calm down a bit and slow down. To thought that things might not have gotten out of hand as he got out of bed and walked around the apartment looking for something that might remind him of the night before. But nothing was out of place, not even a sofa cushion.

He was alone in that place and there wasn't even a piece of clothing or accessory to make him think that someone might be there.

It was then that his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the front door handle. The key turning outside and the sound of bags on the other side of the door… Jake or Jay was bringing something to cure his hangover and it made Sunghoon breathe a sigh of relief to see that his friends were thinking of him.

But his smile fell when you walked through the door. Not that he didn't want to see you there, but of all the people Sunghoon imagined… You, wearing one of his T-shirts and the pants from the night before, bags hanging from your arms, and your hair loose, was the image he never thought he would see clearly.

“Y/n?” he asked, taking you by surprise when you entered the apartment.

“You're awake!” your smile almost made him shout, but he made do and ran towards you to help you with the bags, quickly picking them up and taking them to the kitchen.

The small silence in the room wasn't awkward, but you seemed a little apprehensive as Sunghoon looked at all the bags, hesitating to look in your direction.

“Feeling better?” you asked as you stopped next to him, opening one of the bags and taking out a packet of coffee and a carton of milk.

“Did you… Did you do any shopping?” he looked at the things you were unpacking, then finally looked at you.

What the fuck, why is she so close? He almost cried at the closeness when he saw you looking up, a shy little smile on your lips as you looked at him.

“I did” you replied ”You need to stock that cupboard and I thought you needed something to eat after last night.”

After last night. Right, how could he say he didn't remember anything, especially that you were in his apartment?

Sunghoon didn't know how to say something like that, especially since you seemed so casual in his kitchen as if you hadn't abandoned him months ago. As if you and he hadn't been apprehensive in each other's presence the night before.

But on the contrary, you seemed quite at ease taking food out of the bag and sorting it on the kitchen worktop. The almost familiar scene of the last time you and he had met, warmed his heart slightly and made Sunghoon feel his chest tighten. Fear and nostalgia washed over him as he watched you casually turn on the coffee machine after putting the supplies away. Every time your gaze crossed his, Sunghoon felt like shouting and asking what you were doing there. Perhaps the last part he could do.

“What are you doing here?” he asked after a long time without saying anything, just enjoying – even if fearfully – your presence in front of him.

“I brought you home after you nearly passed out in the bar last night” you smiled, even though your gaze was on the coffee machine and the sound of the liquid falling into one of the cups.

Sunghoon sighed heavily and leaned on the kitchen worktop, facing you and at a safe distance from the other side. If he were standing next to you, you knew you wouldn't be able to control yourself.

“And what happened?” he decided to ask, to be honest at least ”I don't remember anything…”

“I didn't think so” you laughed. A laugh so genuine that Sunghoon almost jumped over that counter to kiss you the way he wanted.

“So… tell me” he asked softly, almost in a whisper, but you heard him nonetheless.

Waiting for the first cup of coffee to be ready, you handed it to him while he prepared another for you. Sunghoon took it and drank the dark, bitter liquid, knowing that it could help with his hangover.

“Neither Jake nor Jay could get you to stop drinking yesterday” you began, your gaze following Sunghoon's every move as you watched him drink the hot, bitter coffee.

“And what did you do?” Sunghoon asked, apprehensive about the answer.

Suddenly a flush rose to his cheeks and he thought it might be the steam from the coffee you were preparing, but as soon as you looked away, he knew something else had happened.

“I thought on impulse and kissed you” you managed to grab the freshly prepared cup, causing Sunghoon to almost choke on his coffee.

Now he felt like a complete idiot because, after all this time, you had kissed him and he hadn't remembered?

“It was quick, enough to make you drop the glass” you said ”Then you asked me to bring you home because… Well…”

He ran his gaze all over your body, forcing himself to remember a little more of what was going on. Sunghoon doesn't remember the feeling of your lips on his again, but like a memory retrieval, he could visualize getting into your car together with you. The drive to his apartment and how you helped him undress so he could shower.

You hated that he slept smelling of booze since university… Why didn't Sunghoon think of that as soon as he woke up? Only you could make him clean himself up even when he was drunk.

“And then you asked me to sleep with you because…” your voice faltered a little, your gaze lowered to the liquid in your cup as you vividly remembered Sunghoon's words ”Because you didn't want me to escape again.”

Drunk or not, he didn't regret having said that to you. Sunghoon's only regret was not being sober enough to have enjoyed the time he had with you since you entered his apartment. But now that time could be rewarded as he left his cup on the counter and walked around to stand in front of you.

“I really meant that, Y/n” he said, smiling weakly when you also left your cup on the counter to turn to him.

You didn't have to be a genius to know that Sunghoon was leaning in the next second and capturing your lips in a slow kiss. Knowing the man in front of you well, you even thought it took him long enough to do it. Fighting his demons and fears of losing you again, but at the same time pushing it all away and concentrating only on having you in his arms again.

The way he grabbed you and sat you on his kitchen worktop, his hands sliding down your thighs – unfortunately – clad in the pants from the night before. As your lips moved against his, Sunghoon felt a spark in his body thinking that this could only be a dream. Because one night he was moaning yet again about you, being dragged out by Jay. While the next day he had you sitting on his bench, kissing him so lovingly as if you weren't the cause of the pain and fear he felt.

You were the first to break the kiss, gasping for air in your lungs from the euphoria of kissing Sunghoon after so long. He stood between your legs, foreheads pressed together as he felt your breath against his lips.

“Why did you leave?” he asked suddenly, his hands squeezing your legs without much force, but enough for you to know that he wasn't going to let you go.

You sighed once more, your lips brushing against his as your hands traveled the length of Sunghoon's arms until they reached his shoulders.

“My father,” you whispered, ”he wanted to control so much.”

“Like what?” Sunghoon lowered his face to the curve of your neck, inhaling your scent which seemed to calm him down a little. The feeling of comfort that settled over him when you sighed and pressed him against your body.

Sunghoon didn't want to leave, to stay with you forever in that position or your arms. He could forget everything that had happened and focus on the present moment while he relished the sensation of your hands against his skin or your skin against his lips. But not everything could be that simple, not when your phone interrupted the whole process.

The noise of the handset could have been ignored if it hadn't been so annoying to you. Apologizing to Sunghoon, you sneaked close enough to grab the handset from the other side of the worktop, still holding the boy between your legs as she alternated your gaze between him and the phone.

“Answer it” he whispered, smoothing your legs and trying not to kiss you while you answered.

As much as he wanted to do that, he wanted to hear you grumble while he kissed your neck or to hear you fight with him for making you make embarrassing sounds to whoever was on the other end of the line.

“Hi, Dad” well, maybe he really could do that then.

Sunghoon's lips slowly brushed against your chin, listening to you grumble as you spoke to your father. He already didn't like the older man, so it wouldn't hurt if you said Sunghoon's name out loud while he spread kisses all over your skin. Going down to your neck, tugging at the collar of his T-shirt – which you wore so beautifully – Sunghoon wanted to mark your skin.

“I… I didn't tell you I was back, I'm sorry” so not even your father knew about your return to the country? That was intriguing, it almost made him stop kissing your skin. But Sunghoon remained strong, convinced that he wouldn't stop until you said his name.

“No, I can't do that… Shit” you almost let out a moan when Sunghoon nibbled at the perfect spot on your neck, matching the exact moment when he pressed his hips against yours “Stop…” you whispered to him as you moved the device far enough away so that your father wouldn't hear.

“No” he smiled and sealed your lips, letting you go back to talking to your father.

“Dinner? But…” you faltered a little, trying to concentrate on the bullshit demands your father was trying to make of you. Without taking into account that you were going to Switzerland to try to get away from him and the way he tried to control your life, “I'm not going.”

“But we need to make arrangements for you to meet Owen, after all, his father and I still think you two should get married.”

It was careless of you to put the phone away just as your father raised his voice on the other end of the line, echoing loud enough for Sunghoon to hear. You could have waved it off, disconnected the call and pretended that nothing had happened, but you knew it was too late when you no longer felt Sunghoon's ringtone.

He moved away from you slowly, his eyes focused on your face as he tried to explain what he had just heard.

You didn't even manage to answer your father properly, disconnecting the call straight away and putting the phone somewhere else on the worktop.

“Sunghoon…”

“Getting married, then?” he took a few steps out from between your legs, but remained standing in front of you.

“I'm not getting married, I just—”

“When were you going to tell me?” Sunghoon asked, his tone wavering as he continued to stare at you “When the date is set?”

“I've already said I'm not getting married, Sunghoon. My father…”

“Did he set you up? Was he going to set you up with some business partner's son like in those shitty movies where you, rich, fall in love with a piece of shit like me, but are promised to someone full of money?”

Sunghoon never changed his tone of voice in all the years the two of you had known each other, it had been so different that you never imagined yourself in that scenario. Not even when you met him the night before, expecting him to yell at you and do something to hurt you. But no. Here you were again, hurting him as you had done.

“Sunghoon, I—”

“Please, go away” Sunghoon walked over to the sink, his hands resting on it and his body forward, staring at anything in the dishes that was interesting enough for him not to look at you.

“But—”

“I told you to leave, Y/n” the harsh, squeaky voice made your body cringe, you got off the counter and didn't dare approach him, even though you wanted to wrap your arms around him and tell him what was going on. You thought he would listen to you, but Sunghoon seemed adamant.

Your body couldn't move, although you needed to get out of there when your vision started to blur and you felt your chest tighten. Sunghoon didn't hear any movement from you, so he turned his head to find you standing there in his kitchen.

He was no longer ashamed to cry in front of you, nor did he think he'd be able to hide it when it all mixed and pooled in his eyes, trailing down his cheeks, not unlike you.

“Please, leave me alone. Please, Y/n.”

The pleading cut through your heart and you knew it was all because of you. Because you weren't able to say anything to him or even stop your father from saying all the shit he always said.

There was nothing left to do but leave Sunghoon's apartment, even though you wanted to stay. You knew that going back wouldn't be a good idea, but you didn't think you'd experience any of it either.

“You're staying with us tonight, aren't you?” Jay's voice was a little louder than the music playing in the bar. Sunghoon turned to his friend and smiled weakly, admiring his persistence in thinking he would stay there on a Friday night. Even though he knew there was a good chance you'd show up.

He still didn't know how he was feeling after what had happened, and he also avoided Stella's little requests – through Jay – for him to text you or come to your apartment. Sunghoon had no idea what to feel or think in that situation, making his mind work on various scenarios that he created himself.

Thinking that you could have gone to Switzerland with that man your father had mentioned on the phone, or worse, he thought about how long you had been promised to someone rich and disgusting who had been your old father's choice. While Sunghoon could barely provide you with a decent life. Not that you needed it, because he knew you had enough money to buy his bar if you wanted to. A decent life was all you didn't need from him. That's why maybe someone from your world, the way you lived, would be better. That's why your father seemed so convinced of this, without ruling out any possibility that you might already be with someone else.

Not that he was that other person, there hadn't even been time for Sunghoon to make a formal request or even say that you were his. There was no time at all.

“I'm going home” Sunghoon replied after getting lost in his thoughts, seeing Jay's worried look in his direction.

The tray carrying the empty glasses went straight into the sink, and Sunghoon washed and sanitized them properly before leaving them to drain and waiting for Jake or Heeseung to finish the job.

“Really?” Jay leaned against the opposite side of the sink from where Sunghoon still stood, looking at the people coming in and out of the small dance floor. They were drunk enough to wave to Jake, who was pouring them a drink at the moment.

“Really, I think I need a rest” in reality, he didn't need a rest, he was just avoiding meeting you there in case you went. And Jay knew that very well.

“Okay” he conceded, no longer wanting to push Sunghoon to say anything about it. He got up from where he was to walk over to his friend, ruffling the boy's dark, sweaty hair in front of him “Anything, call me, okay? I'm not drinking tonight because Stella and Alicia will probably want to leave here loaded,” he said, making Sunghoon laugh ”So I'll be chauffeuring you all night. Don't hesitate to call me if you need anything.”

“And neither will I” Jake appeared next to Jay ”I drove here today and I can drop Alicia off at home if you need us at your apartment…”

“Boys' night?” Sunghoon joked.

“Come on, it's only desolate, sad girls who can do that?” Jake pouted and picked up a clean glass, grimacing at his two friends as he walked away to serve another group of people who had leaned over the bar.

Sunghoon felt terrible to see his friends' efforts to make him well, even if he didn't want to be sinking like that into something that was only hurting. He wished he could stay at the bar or even accept the boys' invitation to do something, but all he wanted was to be home. Maybe cry some more – out of resentment or anger – and drink whatever was in the fridge, then fall asleep until the next morning.

And that's what he did when he got to his apartment, at least the drinking part. He took off his shoes and coat, then went to the fridge and got three cans of beer. He sat down on the sofa and opened them one by one while thinking about his life recently.

He knew that sleep would be a long time coming because with every sip of beer, he wondered why all this was happening. Sunghoon had seen movies with this theme before, he had even heard of a book that Stella read about a rich guy who fell in love with a girl who wasn't rich. The only difference was that his story with you was the complete opposite. Sunghoon wasn't rich at all.

Laughing at life's misfortunes, he finished his third beer and risked opening the bottle of wine that Jake had bought and left at his friend's apartment for the next time they were all together. Perhaps he wouldn't mind if Sunghoon drank it all, because the occasion called for a little more alcohol and until the next meeting between friends, he would certainly buy Jake another bottle. And if it was for the heartbreak reason, which it really was, he knew his friend would forgive him for taking it all himself.

“I don't think that's going to be enough” Sunghoon muttered to himself as he opened the bottle and took the first sip of wine, the strange mixture of the previous taste of beer and the smooth grapes of the current drink. He had mixed a lot of things before, but this one was strange. Not that it mattered at the moment, Sunghoon just wanted to finish that bottle.

To feel nothing but sleep or for all that sensation to fade from his body, at least for a little while. Just long enough for him to recover enough so that, when he saw you again, he wouldn't act like an idiot in love. Even though you might be in the arms of someone other than him. Even if you were going to share a life with someone other than him. Sunghoon thought he was too late in proposing to you because he had wasted so much time without saying anything.

From the moment he met you at university until years after his courses ended, he was only able to talk about his feelings because you did it first. And even then you tore it all away from him in a matter of a short time. But even though it happened, if he had told you he loved you even before all that, Sunghoon could have enjoyed a little time being yours and you being his. In his arms.

And not that empty bottle of wine he was holding, hoping it would be you there.

Sunghoon usually woke up from his nap with his cell phone ringing in the early hours of Friday morning. Jake or Jay calls and he refuses to go to the bar to finish the drinks so that everyone would go home drunk. But now his nap had been interrupted by frantic knocks on the door.

The first thing he did was glance at the clock hanging on the opposite wall, showing that he had been asleep for less than twenty minutes. The empty bottle of wine was neatly placed on the coffee table in the living room and he had closed his eyes while still sitting on the sofa, without bothering to lie down or go to the bedroom.

The knocks continued and Sunghoon began to get anxious because the rapidity with which the noises were made against the door indicated that whoever was there was in a hurry. And maybe his friends needed him because something might have happened. Jay and Jake weren't drunk, as they had said in the bar before he left… So what could it be? He didn't want to think about anything else and ran the few steps from the sofa to the door, taking a long breath before opening it.

His hand trembled slightly against the handle as he turned it slowly and, with his other hand, Sunghoon unlocked the door.

He could have seen it through the peephole before opening it because the look of astonishment on your face when you stood in front of his apartment door wasn't something you could have rehearsed. You could see that Sunghoon wasn't expecting it and, strangely, you didn't care whether he liked it or not. It was as if you had already predicted that his reaction would be total astonishment.

Sunghoon couldn't say anything, amazed and even a little stunned by your presence there. Stopping to analyze the whole situation, your clothes were quite different from the ones you usually wore. No social attire, elegant clothes, or high heels. Instead, you were wearing jeans, a button-down shirt three times your size, and a completely messy ponytail. Your breathing was so ragged that you could only take deep breaths while looking at him.

“Y/n?” Sunghoon practically whispered as he stared at you trying to take it all in. Afraid he'd say your name a little louder and it was just a drunken dream he was having.

To his surprise, you just nodded and took a step forward, still panting as you walked far enough into his apartment. Facing him squarely.

Already preparing yourself for the question he would ask, such as “what are you doing here?” or whatever, you tried to act on your feelings and prayed that he wouldn't interrupt you this time. The speed with which your lips touched his even shocked you because you didn't think you'd have such good aim just by lifting your own feet high enough to reach where you most wanted to touch him at that second.

Processing the event while still half-drowsy, Sunghoon smacked his lips to yours and then pulled away. Inches away from your face just to try to assimilate that you had just kissed him, and when you grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him against you again, he let himself go.

It wasn't as if he was going to stop you from kissing him, even though he had mixed feelings. But neither was he going to deny that he was kissing the woman he loved so much.

He was the first to give the go-ahead to deepen the kiss, opening his lips to receive your tongue and feeling you press your fingers into his shirt. When your tongue tangled with Sunghoon's, he put his hand around your waist to press you against him. His free hand closed the door in the same second to push your back against the cold wood and trap you between it and the tall, slender body in front of you.

In a contest of longing and need, your tongue and his played in sync as you felt Sunghoon's hand slide under the fabric of your shirt. Touching your skin and almost sending a shock through your whole body when he ran his short nails along your hip. A screaming need to feel him in every corner of your body, you craved it as much as he did and tried to show it as you kissed him even more.

Even though it was an almost impossible mission to say everything you felt for Sunghoon because it was beyond words and all you wanted was to make him understand you. That he would listen to you because surely his thoughts about everything that was happening were completely wrong. You wanted to prove it to him. And maybe you were on the right track.

When Sunghoon ran both hands down your hips, to your ass, and down to your thighs, the two slaps there were enough for you to understand that he wanted you in his arms. On his lap. And you didn't hesitate to jump up and wrap your legs around his body when he picked you up.

“Take me to your room” you smiled against his lips, slowly sliding down when you both needed some air, going to Sunghoon's ear “We need to talk.”

“About what?” Sunghoon's breathy voice was so attractive and exciting, that you could swear you almost moaned just from the memories it brought back.

“About us” you felt Sunghoon's arms squeeze your body in his lap, but at no time did the boy show any resistance as he pulled you away from the door to take you to his room.

The whole way was done in silence, feeling his gaze on you almost the whole way, except when he paid a little more attention so that he didn't hurt you or stumble by mistake. Even more so when your lips did a great job against his cheek, going down to his jaw and neck. It bought you time between Sunghoon's slow steps and the time it took you to think about how to start that conversation once you got to his room.

Why, what would you start by saying? And how would you start? Because telling Stella, Jay, and Jake had been easy. Smooth, even, with the possibility of your friends judging you. But because it was Sunghoon, the main character in all of this, things seemed to be even more complicated.

Your thoughts were interrupted when the two of you reached his room, Sunghoon slowly standing you up as he passed the door and closed it. His eyes glazed over your figure as he waited for your next move. His mind would have to work a million different ways now. Afraid that he would kick you out of the apartment once again or not listen to you explain while you had a lot to say, something crossed your mind and you prayed that it would work out. Not least because you'd need to concentrate on every word while you did everything you wanted to do.

One of your hands went to Sunghoon's abdomen, slowly moving up to his chest and giving it a gentle push. It was nothing compared to her strength and his size, at most moving the boy's body a centimeter in front of you. Enough for him to take a slow step backward.

“Sit down” you instructed softly, slowly pushing him towards his bed. You tried your best to make your voice sound calm as you watched him nod and walk backward to the bed, sitting down and leaning against the headboard. Your smile slowly followed his, but Sunghoon held his breath as you climbed onto the bed to sit on his lap, both hands resting on his broad shoulders.

“What are you doing? Weren't we going to talk?” he asked, his voice shaky and wavering as he felt your weight on his lap. Sunghoon frowned, not because he hated having you on his lap, on the contrary, but it had never crossed his mind to have a conversation in that position.

“We will” you leaned your forehead against his ”But I'm afraid you won't let me talk, so I thought I'd do something.”

“What thing?” Sunghoon asked when he felt your breath against his face, your warm breath against his freshly kissed and still reddened lips. You smiled, but he couldn't capture the moment because he had just closed his eyes to revel in every little sensation you gave his body.

Sunghoon had completely forgotten the old feeling that he didn't want to see you anymore, that he was avoiding you at all costs. He forgot everything the moment he felt your lips on his when you arrived at the apartment, and now, feeling you holding his face between your hands. Your little fingers caressing his skin – which would have been stained with tears tonight if you hadn't been here – and trailing around his jaw to his lower lip. You didn't respond immediately, nor did he complain when he felt you kissing him again.

It was like being addicted to something and needing it to live, regardless of whether he deserved it or not. Sunghoon knew he wouldn't be able to go on without kissing you and without having you. He didn't want to think about a world in which you wouldn't be with him as you are right now. Sunghoon just wanted to feel your tongue entwining with his slowly, urgently, and intensely. Your heavy breathing against his mouth almost drove him crazy, not least when you were rocking against his lap.

It was too much torture to feel you like that, the clothes getting in the way as you slowly rolled over in his lap. His cock, once semi-hard, was now hard enough to rub against your jeans and the pants he was wearing, creating the perfect friction for both of you.

“Fuck” he moaned against your mouth, stifling another moan when he felt your nails against his shoulders. Sunghoon wasn't going to question whether that was an effective method of conversation, but if you wanted to start like that, he wasn't going to stop you.

He ran his big hands down your shirt, finding your ass very well synchronized in slowly rolling over, at the same intensity as your tongue played with his. It was as if you wanted to make him feel the same movements inside your mouth and on top of your lap, as your clothed pussy rubbed against his cock.

“Sunghoon” you moaned his name, an extremely low blow. This made Sunghoon's fingers squeeze each side of your buttocks, stopping your hip movements.

“Do you…” he sighed, his heartbeat accelerating as you pulled your mouth away from his ”Do you want to talk like this?”

He looked like a lost, needy little animal, his big eyes staring at you and his chest rising and falling in gasping breaths. Such a beautiful sight that you missed it, and having it again was something you didn't want to miss.

Releasing Sunghoon's hands from your ass, you intertwined your fingers with his and left them next to your body, on the side of your thighs. If your expression wasn't so passionate, he could have sworn it was some kind of tease as you moved back against his lap.

“I want you to pay attention only to what I say” you whispered, squeezing his fingers and letting out a low moan as your clit rubbed exactly against his jeans and the head of his cock at that moment. That was all you needed “Can you do that for me?”

There was a minute's silence as Sunghoon pondered this because he couldn't concentrate on anything other than the movements you were making. It would be difficult to focus on your words while what he wanted most at that moment was to be inside you.

“I'll try” he managed to say before he felt you slip out of his lap.

The loss of contact made Sunghoon a little dizzy because he felt his cock ache, that friction was all he needed, but losing it suddenly made him feel weak. He looked at where you were, standing next to his bed as you unbuttoned your jeans and left only your big shirt. It was a punishment that it was that big and covered half your thighs… Why couldn't you wear one of the shirts you normally wore? They were small enough to go halfway down the buttons of the pants you wore, and not nearly as dressy as that one. He also didn't think about why you were undressing, let alone why you had gone back between his legs and now it was your fingers' turn to open the buttons on Sunghoon's pants.

“Y/n, what—” he tilted his head back and leaned against the headboard, his eyes closing and his breathing completely heavy as you lowered the fabric of his pants enough to free his cock from the tightness of his jeans and hold it over the fabric of the briefs he was wearing ”Fuck, you…”

“I want you to understand that whatever I say is true” your thumb perfectly drew the line of his cock head covered in pre-cum that had already soaked through his underwear. Sunghoon moaned loudly at the touch and squirmed to try to get your hand away, feeling the slight slap you gave him before looking him in the eye.

Eye contact alone could make him come right there, without any further ministrations from you. Sunghoon could free himself in his boxers as he felt you draw circles on the head of his cock, but it couldn't be that easy. You weren't going to provoke him because he didn't deserve that at all. He deserved to be taken care of, to listen carefully to what you had to say, and, perhaps, to understand every word. He just prayed that everything would be said clearly, even if he was struggling against your touches to pay attention to the words.

You knew that the body language between the two of you was a great connection because when your fingers slid into the waistband of his pants, Sunghoon didn't even think to help you remove the fabric along with the underwear he was wearing, his cock being released in a mixture of relief and pain, slapping against the belly covered by the T-shirt he was still wearing. The garments went halfway down his thighs before he saw you move far enough away for him to pull them off and throw them on the floor beside the bed. Now with his lower half completely bare to you, exposed like that, Sunghoon knew he wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything. Not with you kneeling between his legs again.

“I want you to believe me, Sunghoon” you whispered as you leaned in, your face close enough to his to say it, ”Do you?”

He was quiet at that moment, just staring at you and hoping that something would formulate in the back of his mind. Sunghoon would believe… But in what? What, exactly, would he have to believe? What would you say would have to be done just for him to believe? Sunghoon's mind wasn't working very well at that moment, he seemed lost and excited and just agreeing was enough for you to continue whatever you were doing. He would only accept at that moment, fighting against any greater urge before actually listening to you. Or feel you, because he didn't know what you would do first.

Watching your slow movements as you slid between his legs, your face lowering just enough to get close to his cock and your mouth touching the head smeared with pre-cum.

“Fuck you” he muttered almost as a roar of relief when he felt your hot mouth suck the tip of his cock. The pop when you released it made Sunghoon moan low and almost cry from the contact.

Your hand firmly gripped the base of his cock, the narrow veins running along the length that filled you so well last time. You made eye contact with him the second your mouth returned to spilling the mushroom, the tip of your tongue making the perfect circle before your lips slowly slid down his cock.

“Shit, Y/n” he moaned. The sensation of having his cock swallowed by your warm, soft lips was divine. Your tongue felt his vein fissures and your throat accommodating the glans when you reached the bottom. You slid his cock out once more, but without taking it out completely as you did the first time, establishing a rhythm so slow that Sunghoon might have thought he was being tortured.

The torture in your eyes fixed on his, with your mouth full of his cock as you moved your head up and down in a rhythm that you set yourself to suck it. Sunghoon knew – and anyone else in those conditions – that it would be impossible for you to say anything at that moment, so delighting in your mouth around his cock was the perfect moment. Sunghoon wrapped his already-tangled hair between his fingers, taking advantage of the ponytail hairstyle he'd done before so that he could hold onto you with one hand and the other wrapped around your jaw.

“You're doing so good, babe” Sunghoon said, his thumb caressing your cheek and spreading a little of your saliva that fell each time you took his cock deeper into your mouth until it touched your throat. He moaned your name every time you proved that your vomit reflex was in perfect condition. You took him so deep that Sunghoon knew he could come right there, in the warmth of your lips as he felt you speed up your movements.

He pressed his thumb against your jaw as you moved your mouth up and down his cock faster, your gaze never leaving Sunghoon's fucked face above you. Your name was said with each heavy breath and the moans he let out were like the most beautiful melody you could have heard in your life.

“I'm going to… Y/n, please…” Sunghoon didn't want to come so quickly, he didn't want to look so weak for a blowjob as well done as yours. And it seems that you didn't want him to come so soon either, because your mouth began to move slowly down his cock until it stopped completely. Your tongue makes the same circle around the head of his cock until you let go, again, with a pop.

How pornographic that sound could be when accompanied by Sunghoon's hoarse moan at the same moment. You knew your panties were wet enough just from the sounds and feel of his cock inside your mouth, but you didn't care anymore. Not when you also had to concentrate because your words weren't finished. You had a few more things to say to him. Before returning to Sunghoon's lap, you discarded your sticky, wet panties, almost in the same spot next to the bed where his clothes were, and it was only at that moment that you returned to your old spot – his lap.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he was visibly stunned and you secretly liked that effect, the hint that he didn't want to see you had finally disappeared and now the faint smile Sunghoon was giving you was the perfect indication that he had your undivided attention.

“In a good way?” you asked, your tone low and your hips hovering in the air so as not to touch your naked pussy to his cock just yet.

“In the best of ways” he said, tilting his head towards yours to capture your lips this time.

It was Sunghoon's turn to start the kiss a little less slowly than the two of you had shared so far. His hands held your face on either side and he could feel your jaw moving during the kiss as his thumbs made the perfect line to your chin. And you knew that this would be the perfect moment since Sunghoon's hands were busy holding your face, he wouldn't stop you.

You slid your hand between the two bodies and gripped his cock, taking advantage of the fact that your saliva would be the perfect combination of lubrication with how wet your pussy was. Then you simply slid the head of his cock between your folds, opting to tease him another time, and slid it in far enough until it found its entrance. It didn't take you long to slide his cock in effortlessly.

“Fuck, shit. I—” Sunghoon didn't have time to reason or even say anything to you when his cock was already completely inside your pussy. He wouldn't deny something like that, he wouldn't stop you, but feeling your pussy swallow his cock without any warning was one of the most delicious sensations he'd ever felt.

Sunghoon's hands left your face to grip your hips before you could start any movement. He didn't want to teach you anything, he wanted to let you guide yourself as you felt most comfortable, but he needed to feel the way you moved as well as have his cock inside you. So when you raised your hips for the first time and then lowered yourself in a not-so-slow movement, he tightened his fingers on your hips in response, moaning your name.

“Sunghoon” you moaned, but you wanted to call him out as you put your idea into action. He just grunted as he felt you move again on his lap, your pussy swallowing his cock so well that it was hard to say anything “I want you to unbutton my shirt while I talk to you…”

“Fuck, no” he moaned as you went down on his cock again, a little faster this time.

He didn't want to deny it, but it was hard to concentrate. So Sunghoon knew he had to be guided, and you knew you had to do it when you took his hands and led them to the first button of your shirt.

“Just concentrate on that and my words.”

He wanted to ask if this was how you behaved when you were the boss of the company or when you had to deal with someone from your work or even your father. The authoritative yet cautious way you spoke to him made his cock twitch inside you. And he wondered how it was possible for you to keep your tone while resting your hands on his shoulder and forcing your legs up and down on his cock.

Sunghoon leaned his head back against the headboard, the moans becoming frequent and released without any pause. The sound of slapping skin as you began to hump faster, his pelvis meeting yours, and the wet, squishing sound of your pussy every time you swallowed him. His fingers were trembling as he managed to unbutton the first button, moving down to the second and losing himself for a moment when the walls of your pussy squeezed him tight.

“I'm not going to make it with you… squeezing me like that…”

“You can do it, Hoonie” he could have easily turned you against that mattress and fucked you so hard with his hooded provocations and authoritarian requests in that situation. But he didn't have the strength, let alone the courage, to disobey your requests while you slowed down your movements because you knew it was hard for him. Sunghoon managed to unbutton the second button and went down to the next one, his eyes slowly opening to look at you.

Your smile was angelic even in the position he was in and the way you were rubbing up against him. Now, going back and forth with your clit deliciously rubbing against his pelvis and, when you moved a little more, you could rub against his cock covered in all your essence before getting just the tip inside your hole and sliding it into you again. He didn't want to ask where you'd learned it or if you'd even practiced, maybe Sunghoon was lucky enough to have been the first to feel it because you were so horny that you tried out the wildest fantasies in your mind. And that's exactly what it was, but you'd never tell him.

“Sunghoon” you called him again when your rolls and movements became less intense. You still kept them up but in a more sensual way. You wanted to emphasize your words and let him finish the buttons on your shirt. He looked you in the eye, the shine in that gaze and the intense way in which Sunghoon stared at you was the certainty of everything you felt. You leaned forward, your slightly sweaty forehead touching his and your panting breaths mingling with each other “You're the only one for me.”

“What?” he finished unbuttoning your shirt, given the circumstances of your slow movements. A respite for the poor man with a hard-on and his hard, aching cock being swallowed by your pussy.

Opening your shirt and revealing your bra, he didn't even bother to look at the lace or anything else, because your voice was the only thing he was concentrating on at that moment. The two of you kept staring at each other until you finally took off your shirt and took the opportunity to get rid of your bra, knowing that you had tortured Sunghoon enough to make him unbutton every button.

You pulled away from him to pull up his shirt, and he was quick to get the message and get completely naked, just as you were on top of him. You leaned your forehead against his again, your skin glistening against the light in the room and the sweat emanating from your shared activities.

“I don't want anyone but you” you kissed his lips slowly, moving your hips back in the same way ”I've never been with anyone but you and—”

Sunghoon knew it was enough, he knew he just needed that confirmation. Even if you'd been trying to say it all along and he was too stubborn – and jealous – to listen. He wanted to suffer in silence rather than listen to what you had to say. But after today and what you did, he could no longer have any doubts about the things that were happening.

Giving him all to reverse positions, pressing your back down on the mattress, and getting on top of you, Sunghoon lined his cock up in your pussy without wasting any time in being inside you again.

“Say it again,” he whispered as he began to thrust his cock into you. Sunghoon's face lined up on the curve of your neck as he thrust his cock into you at a slow but strong pace. The sound of his pelvis against your skin was enough to make you forget your words. Now you understood why he couldn't speak so perfectly when you were on top. It was hard to think of anything coherent while you felt his cock going deep inside you.

“I don't… Shit” you moaned softly as his cock drove deep, hitting the perfect spot inside your warm walls and making your nails slide down his back. Sunghoon kissed your neck, smiling against your skin at the effect he caused just by slowly thrusting his cock into you. “I don't want anyone else but you” saying it quickly hadn't been a mistake, not least because you knew that once he heard it, it would be enough to feel you faster.

And that's what happened. As if you knew him so well, Sunghoon raised his face to look at your every expression as he began to fuck his cock into your pussy. The fast, strong movements made your body sway beneath him and the overwhelming sound of your arousal coursed through his cock every time it moved in and out of you. Sunghoon rested one hand on the side of your body, the other gripped the headboard so tightly that his fingers might have hurt afterward from the force with which he held on. But it was all a consequence of all the sensations repressed while he fucked you as he pleased.

Sunghoon ignored the burning in your back caused by your nails in his skin, and he also ignored the fact that your thighs were squeezing him so tightly that, if it weren't for the speed with which he moved his hips against yours, you would surely have been able to stop him in a few moves. But he wouldn't give up, he wouldn't stop.

“I can't take it… I can't…” you pulled his face close to yours, mouths too close together.

“Do you want to cum?” he asked, your nod the only source of confirmation as you moaned his name against his lips.

Sunghoon nodded too, knowing he wasn't that far away from you as his cock throbbed inside your pussy. The way you sucked him so well was the perfect indication that he had to come right there to claim what was rightfully his. Your pussy and all of you.

He let you kiss him again, messy with drool, totally sloppy as he felt his hips stutter in their movements. You were getting more and more desperate and this was proven by the way your moans were swallowed by his lips and your pussy clenching him tightly.

It wasn't long before you came against his cock, the muscles in your pussy convulsing around his length. Without delay, Sunghoon knew you wouldn't be strong enough to take it, so he came straight away. The load of cum he poured into your pussy was hot and thick, every part of you squeezing him, milking his cock a little more until the last drop of cum he poured into you dried up.

Gasping and with your lips still pressed together, you gave one last loud sigh after moaning his name against his lips. Smiling along with Sunghoon as you both recovered a little from your rapid breathing.

He didn't want to open his eyes at that moment, afraid that everything would happen again. You and him having sex, and then Sunghoon found out that you were leaving for another country, and that made his heart hurt even more when he opened his eyes and didn't see you on the other side of the bed.

Sunghoon could have sworn he had hugged your waist the entire night after the two of you slept together, but you were no longer by his side. Again.

A lump formed in his throat at the thought that this was happening again, and even worse after you said everything you said. It wouldn't be indicative of anything if you spoke and still walked away like you did with him. Was that why you had asked him to believe you? So you could have another night together and now you're going to another country? Well, what would it be this time? It would have to be something further away than Switzerland because Sunghoon swore he could travel there after you again if that was the case.

Not wanting to think about it anymore, pushing away his blurred vision with a strong breath and trying not to focus on the tightness he was feeling in his chest, he stretched his hand beside the bed just to feel for his underwear and put them on, quickly leaving the room without paying attention to nothing else. It wouldn't be new for him to be left by you, but this time Sunghoon had to put an end to what he was feeling because he couldn't afford to be chased, to listen to you, to have sex with you, and then watch you leave. He couldn't allow that because Sunghoon would suffer every time, while he wouldn't know why you did all that.

He wanted not to think about those things, he wanted not to feel like crying as he walked around the apartment. But in vain, a tear had already fallen down his cheek and before Sunghoon even wiped it away, he almost felt his heart come out of his mouth when he found your figure in the kitchen.

You were wearing his t-shirt from the night before, and your eyes were focused on the small recipe book as you had some ingredients in front of you. With the sound of his footsteps, your attention was no longer on the words written by Sunghoon's grandfather in that worn notebook, but rather on the crying boy standing at the kitchen door.

“Hey, Hoonie” you would smile if it weren’t for the sight of Sunghoon’s cloudy eyes and wet cheek. You quickly walked towards him and held the face of the man in front of you, wiping away the second tear that was about to fall down the middle of his cheek “What is it? What happened?"

He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into a tight hug and sniffling softly against your hair.

“I thought you were gone again” he whimpered, letting a few more tears fall as he felt you hug him.

Relief would be best described in the middle of that hug, over any feeling Sunghoon swore he felt after waking up. He felt your lips kiss his bare shoulder and then slowly slide down his arms until you faced him.

“I’m not going anywhere anymore” you smiled, kissing him on the lips “And that’s why we need to talk.”

“For real now, right? Without my dick inside you?”

“Sunghoon!” you slapped his arm as you walked away, hearing the boy's captivating and welcoming laugh.

He noticed you were making his grandfather's famous coffee, or trying to replicate the little details. Just like he did that day in your apartment. The nostalgic moment brings him back to the day you told him you were in love with him. You revealed your feelings and let him say them too.

As you went back to preparing coffee, you felt Sunghoon's arms wrap around your waist and hug you from behind. He rested his face on your shoulder to pay attention while you concentrated there.

“I think I'm ready to listen to you now” he said as calmly as if he hadn't been almost desperate minutes before.

He also wouldn't say that he thought about traveling to another country if the scenario repeated itself. Maybe you thought he was crazy, or not so much because you knew Sunghoon enough to know that he would be capable of that since his first feeling was denial that you came back this time. Now all he had to do was go after it if it happened. What he wouldn't do and you would say so clearly to him.

“You were right when you said that my Dad tried to set me up with a partner’s son and everything…” Sunghoon knew there was no way to hide the tightening of his muscles, the arms around your waist tightening a little more and the jaw resting on your shoulder becoming harder as he listened to you. You knew this would happen, so you had to be quick in your explanations “That’s very much a movie scene, isn’t it?”

"What?" he asked, trying to ignore the amusement in your tone. This wasn't fun at all, why were you making it out to be?

“The Dad trying to arrange a marriage for his daughter and the heiress of his company” you laughed softly as you poured some coffee powder into the machine, focusing on the mixture of sugar and cinnamon that was described on the sheet on the other side of the counter “But my life it’s not a movie.”

"What do you mean by that?" Sunghoon was visibly confused, his hands resting against your stomach.

“I mean that—” you stopped yourself, hearing the coffee machine start to make noise as it prepared the liquid that the two of you would drink right away. Turning around in Sunghoon's arms, your hands finally palmed his bare chest. “My father tried to control this in my life, but he couldn't. And that’s why I went to Switzerland.”

If he was confused before, he was even more so now. And as he listened to you calmly, everything, even though it made sense, left him shocked.

Sunghoon knew that your father always tried to control everything in your life, and it was one of the biggest reasons why you always vented to him. Having someone control almost everything for you was extremely annoying, a tremendous invasion of privacy. But as soon as you learned that your father wanted to make you marry his business partner's son, it sounded like a ridiculous joke to you. It was a movie you could see with Stella at a movie theater as they discussed how life tried to imitate art, but not when you objected to it.

“That night I showed up at your bar crying, it was because I decided to leave for Switzerland without anyone knowing. I wanted to escape yet another choice in my life made by my father” you sighed slowly, Sunghoon's fingers caressing your waist through your – his – t-shirt. You felt his lips slowly against the top of your head and you smiled because they remained there “Only you knew through that letter. I didn’t even tell Stella, but… I knew you would show her and the boys, so it was okay because I trust you all.”

He moved his lips from your head to your forehead, breathing deeply against your skin. Now that things were starting to make sense, Sunghoon swore he felt even more angry towards your father.

“This trip was to organize my mind on how I would face my father in this situation because it wasn't easy to make him change his mind” you sighed “Well, you heard it on the phone that day.”

“Unfortunately” he whispered, not wanting to interrupt you even if you wanted to hear him.

The noise of the coffee machine interrupted your thoughts for a brief moment, then you turned back in his arms to pour a good amount into the two cups in front of you. Sunghoon slid his arms around your waist again, still hugging you and not wanting to let go so soon.

“I came back because I decided to lead my own life, I didn't want him to do that for me anymore” preparing the coffee was done with a shaking hand because you felt like crying every time you thought about the fights against your father.

The harsh words he said to you while you refused to follow what he wanted for you. Of all the years he was in control of your life, it was time for things to change. You felt a feather-light kiss that Sunghoon placed on your shoulder when you signaled that the coffee was ready. He picked up the cup and walked to the other side of the counter so he was facing you.

“And also because I resigned from his company because he simply said I couldn’t get married when I was already committed to someone else.”

He almost spat out his coffee when he heard it come out of your mouth so nonchalantly. Those new attitudes from such a carefree Y/n were not something Sunghoon was used to, especially after you gave an innocent smile as if you hadn't said the craziest thing out loud.

"You're kidding, right?" he tried to catch his breath after coughing a few times, resting the cup on the kitchen counter “Y/n, you can’t do this.”

“I can and I did, Sunghoon” you smiled with your lips against your cup as you sipped your hot coffee “I talked about being in love with you since university, that I didn't want to be the boss of that shit company anymore and that I quit because I simply I wanted to have control of my own life and do what I wanted.”

As much as it was something he wanted to hear at all costs, Sunghoon couldn't be selfish enough to let you miss out on things because part of you had told your father about your feelings for him.

“Did you tell him about me?” Sunghoon asked, seeing you nod as you drank more coffee.

Possibly your father had cursed Sunghoon the moment he heard you say that he owned a bar and not the owner of a company. He knew this should have happened.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” your voice took him away from his thoughts for a while, he picked up the cup of coffee again, looking at the dark liquid now, trying not to focus on your intense gaze.

“You can’t just give up your life for your feelings, Y/n.”

“You mean the money?” he didn't see the eye roll you gave, otherwise he would scold you for it and continue saying how wrong you were for doing those things.

“I mean that—”

It hurt Sunghoon to have to think, and to be about to say that out loud. But just as you were being sincere, he could tell you what he thought too. It wouldn't be a judgment on his part and he hoped you wouldn't be offended, especially because he also had the right to think that way.

“The guy your father wants you to be with has money and a good life” he bit the tip of his tongue at the thought of another man being with you. Even if it was to make his father happy, Sunghoon just couldn't do it. “He's from your world, Y/n.”

"My world?" your shaky voice made him look up from the coffee to your face. You looked strangely sad, and he didn't want you to feel that. You should be happy, maybe, Sunghoon also didn't know what to think anymore.

“Yeah, he has money, I don’t” Sunghoon took a big sip of coffee “We’re from two different worlds, you know?”

“No” you replied quickly, the thud of the cup against the counter on the other side made Sunghoon shrug his shoulders momentarily.

"Why not?" he placed the cup back, walking around the counter ever so slowly to get closer to you again. He wanted to touch you and you would possibly hit him because of the way you were looking at him. He didn't want to see you like this either, but he risked pulling you against him and bringing your face closer to his.

“Because I don’t want a world where you’re not in it, Park Sunghoon” your pout dismantled him at that moment, matching the shape of your words “You are my world.”

Fuck your father's opinion and thoughts and Sunghoon's pride in trying to think that you should follow another path. He wouldn't be stupid enough to push you onto someone else, not when you were there, openly saying that you gave up a lot of things because of him. Much of it was because of you and your wishes, but if that included Sunghoon, he wouldn't waste it.

Sunghoon kissed you so slowly, feeling the taste of the freshly drunk coffee and your warm lips against his. Your hands quickly went to his hair and Sunghoon hugged you so tight, afraid you would run away and believe his words from minutes ago. Fuck money, fuck everything. You said he was your world, and he wanted to be your world just like you were his.

“I love you” Sunghoon whispered after kissing you, his lips still hovering over yours “I love you so much I don’t want you to leave.”

“I love you so much more” you whispered back, snuggling into his arms as you felt Sunghoon’s heartbeat against your chest as you felt him hold you in that hug. “And I’m not going anywhere without you now.”

“Promise?”

“I promise” you kissed his lips once again, and Sunghoon could scream with happiness to finally have you in his arms.

Being able to wake up every morning and feel your body on the other side of the bed with the certainty that you wouldn't leave. He knew he would have to face your father sooner or later, but he also knew that your request the night before to believe in you was what was worth it. Sunghoon would believe in you at all times because being together with you, nothing else mattered.

“By the way” you smiled slowly when he began to undo his arms around your body, moving away so he could return to the other side of the counter and drink the rest of the coffee. He would prepare food afterward because the drink alone wouldn't be enough.

“Say it, love” he encouraged you when he didn’t hear you continue. Raising an eyebrow at you as he brought the cup to his lips to finish the contents and pay attention to what you had to say.

“Is there space at your bar? I don’t want to be without work.”

Sunghoon truly laughed as he walked back behind you, leaning down enough to place the cup into the sink. He wouldn't imagine someone like you working in his crazy bar, not when you didn't behave like the people who worked there. Not even Stella would work there.

“Maybe you should ask Stella for help with this, baby” Sunghoon kissed the side of your neck, causing a slight shiver to run across your skin “I don’t want you to work in my bar because I know the type of customers I have there.”

"Jealous?" you joked.

"Jealous of you? Definitely” he nibbled your skin, watching you shiver even more.

Continued to laugh at your reaction and your protests about being a good employee, maybe even better than his three best friends. You could team up with Stella and attract more clientele to the bar, even if the establishment doesn't need it. It was Sunghoon's turn to feel a shiver run down his spine at the idea of men staring at you or trying to flirt with you, just like he saw them doing with any girl who frequented his bar. Now that the two of you were together, he knew that being jealous was nothing compared to what he would experience with you.

But if it was the same way he was being, laughing at your protests, receiving your kisses as he scooped up the pancake batter, and listening to you grumble about wanting to work with Stella now, he would love to live by her side. Because you were his world, just like he was his.

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