#but i guess all she remembers is that i did something wrong

[jungkoode]

死 KKANGPAE | #03 死

† breakfast and training †

"His eyes are the kind of dark that makes you forget there was ever light in the world. And you hate that you're starting to notice details about him."

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⚔ chapter details ⚔

word count: 5.4k

rating: mature

content: training violence, weapons, strong language, sexual tension

☠ author's note ☠

HELLO MY FELLOW SLEEP-DEPRIVED CREATURES. Welcome back to another episode of "Kiki makes questionable life choices and writes fanfiction instead of sleeping"!

Can we talk about how I wrote like three different versions of the gun scene before my perfectionist brain was satisfied? And by satisfied I mean "fine whatever just post it I guess." Don't @ me about gun accuracy, I play Call of Duty sometimes that's research enough (ㆆᴗㆆ)

Also yes, I am absolutely living for the whole "oh no they're training together" trope. Sue me. Or don't, I'm broke. All I have is caffeine and the ability to make my characters suffer. Speaking of which - Jeon in combat mode? chef's kiss My boy is out there being all professional and grumpy while Y/N is just trying her best not to get shot. We love that for them.

PSA: The whole "Cookie" thing was totally self-indulgent and I regret nothing. V is here to cause chaos and honestly? Goals.

Special shoutout to my cat who watched me write this at 3 AM and judged me silently. You're the best beta reader a girl could ask for, even if your only feedback is knocking my coffee over.

See you next Tuesday, you beautiful disasters! Remember: sleep is for the weak and fanfiction is for life.

crawls back into writing cave while mainlining espresso

Kiki

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Mornings in the castle hit different. Through your window, the sky's doing that thing where it can't decide if it's still night or already dawn—all soft blues mixing with hints of gold. Everything's quiet, like the world's holding its breath.

Then your alarm goes off.

"Why did we agree to this again?" Yunjin whines from her bed, fumbling to shut up the annoying buzz. Her pink hair is a mess, splayed across her pillow like cotton candy gone wrong.

"Croissants," you remind her, stretching until your joints pop. "Fresh, buttery, heavenly croissants."

"Not hungry." She burrows deeper into her blanket cocoon. "Too early for hunger. Too early for existing."

You swing your legs off the bed, bare feet hitting the cold floor. "What happened to yesterday's 'new me, new goals' speech?"

"That was yesterday's Yunjin. Today's Yunjin chooses sleep."

With a snort, you pad over to her bed. It's literally two steps away—your shared room is cozy like that, with just enough space for two singles and matching bedside tables. You give her shoulder a gentle shake.

"And what's tomorrow's Yunjin gonna think about that?"

"Tomorrow's Yunjin's problem," she mumbles, death-gripping her blanket. Smart girl. She knows your next move would've been stealing it.

"Then it's tomorrow's me problem too!" You can't help but laugh, and it finally gets her to peek one eye open.

She lets out the longest, most dramatic sigh. "Fine. Fine. You win."

Your shared laughter is soft, comfortable. It's weird how quickly Yunjin became your person here. Maybe because she's as new to this as you are—no pressure to measure up to badasses like Chaewon or keep your guard up around intimidating figures like V and Jeon.

She joined two months before you did. For her, it meant saying goodbye to having her own room, but she says it was worth the trade-off. Girl's a mess when it comes to sleep schedules, but she keeps your shared space spotless and her determination is s̶c̶a̶r̶y̶ impressive. Like, you've seen her practice seduction techniques until 3 AM, and now here she is, dragging herself up at dawn for... well, croissants and self-improvement.

There's something genuinely good about Yunjin. She's always there—to help, to listen, to just be. Five months in and everyone in Seduction already adores her. Yeah, she's clumsy as hell during physical training, but her mind is sharp. Nothing gets past her—it's like she's got a built-in lie detector.

After yesterday morning's... incident, you're extra grateful for her company.

You both grab your digital cards from your bedside tables—can't go anywhere in this place without them. They're basically your whole identity here, determining which doors open for you and which stay firmly shut.

The castle corridors feel endless this early. Most members are probably still sleeping or doing whatever gang members do at dawn. Your footsteps echo softly as you and Yunjin make your way to the cafeteria, keeping the conversation light.

"Have you had breakfast here before?" you ask, watching her stifle another yawn.

"Once." She nods, her pink ponytail bouncing. "Got up at 10 though. Wasn't worth sacrificing sleep for."

You can't help but smile. "Early breakfast hits different. You'll see."

When you reach the cafeteria, Yunjin taps her digital card against the scanner. The light blinks green, and suddenly your nose is filled with the heavenly smell of fresh pastries. Inside, only a handful of early birds are scattered around the massive space. Makes sense—most people here prefer their beds at this hour.

Your eyes do their usual sweep of the room, casual and practiced. But then something pulls at you, like a magnet finding true north. Your gaze locks with dark, piercing ones.

Jeon.

"Oh, that's Jeon, right?" Yunjin's voice cuts through your thoughts. "Guess he likes mornings too."

You nod, still watching him from the safety of the doorway. Something about the distance makes you feel almost safe. He's got that thing about him—that unmistakable aura of authority that even 6 AM can't dim.

"Damn," Yunjin says after a beat, blunt as ever. "He's hot."

"Let's get food," you mutter, rolling your eyes and heading for the pastry section.

You and Yunjin load up your plates with a bit of everything, especially those famous croissants. Finding a quiet corner, you settle in to enjoy both the food and each other's company, pointedly not thinking about piercing dark eyes or brooding corners.

You try to look casual as your eyes drift back to Jeon for the hundredth time.

He's sitting there, both hands wrapped around a steaming cup of coffee like it's his lifeline to sanity this early in the morning. The sight of those tattooed fingers curled around plain white ceramic does something to your brain that you'd rather not examine too closely.

"You know, I heard something interesting about him." Yunjin's voice makes you jump. S̶h̶i̶t̶ Great, she caught you staring.

"Oh?" You tilt your head, hoping your voice sounds more curious than guilty.

Yunjin leans in conspiratorially, her pink hair falling forward as she drops her voice to barely above a whisper. It's kind of unnecessary given how far away Jeon is, but there's something about him that makes everyone speak in hushed tones.

"Apparently, he's got this whole... ritual thing going on. Every single morning, without fail, he makes sure he's the first one to get fresh coffee. Like, the first cup from a fresh pot."

Your eyes track back to that cup held between ink-covered fingers. Now that she mentions it, you've never seen him drink anything else in the mornings. The way he's savoring it, eyes closed and expression almost peaceful, makes you think Yunjin might be onto something.

"Every day? He's literally the first one here?" The mental image of Jeon lurking outside the cafeteria doors, waiting for them to unlock, is both hilarious and weirdly endearing.

"From what I've heard. Maybe it's a power move?" Yunjin suggests with a soft laugh. "You know, asserting dominance through caffeine consumption."

The idea of someone as intimidating as Jeon—co-leader of the Assassination Division, member of the Council of 9, literal professional killer—climbing the ranks of one of South Korea's most dangerous gangs just to secure his morning coffee makes something bubble up in your chest.. You have to bite your lip to keep from laughing too loud.

"Imagine that being his master plan all along," you snort. "Join gang, become assassination chief, get first dibs on coffee."

You both dissolve into quiet giggles, but the moment shatters when something shifts in the air. It's like thorny vines suddenly wrapping around your lungs, making it hard to breathe. You don't need to look to know who it is.

"Mind if I join the fun?" V's voice slides over your skin like honey laced with poison, playful but with that edge that makes your hair stand on end.

His arms drape over your shoulders without warning, caging you and Yunjin in what should be a friendly gesture but feels more like being trapped. Your muscles tense automatically. There's something about V that keeps you perpetually on edge—like admiring a rose only to remember it's got thorns that could draw blood.

Yunjin manages a wobbly smile, but you can tell she's as unsettled as you are by his sudden appearance. "We were just... talking about coffee."

"Coffee?" V drawls the word like it personally offends him. He pulls back, throwing his arms behind his head in that carelessly graceful way of his, but stays close enough that you can smell cinnamon. "Boring. Now, this new training program? That's something worth discussing."

His eyes glint with mischief, reminding you of a cat playing with its food. "I'm keen to see what you girls bring to the table. Should be... intriguing, don't you think?"

The way he says it makes your skin crawl. There's nothing overtly threatening about his words, but the undercurrent is clear—the Assassination Division isn't known for playing nice, and V seems to view the upcoming cross-training as his personal playground.

"I'm sure it will be enlightening," you say carefully.

V's energy is infectious, but not in a good way. More like a disease you're trying not to catch.

He chuckles, and those thorny vines around your lungs squeeze tighter. "Oh, I'm sure it will be. And don't worry, yours truly will be there to add a little spice to the mix. Can't let things get too dull, can we?"

Before you can respond, his attention snaps to something—or someone—across the cafeteria. With a dismissive wave that somehow manages to feel both elegant and insulting, he strides off as suddenly as he appeared.

You exchange looks with Yunjin, both of you sagging with relief once he's gone. She looks as drained as you feel, like V's presence alone sucked all the energy from the room.

"Well, that was... something," Yunjin says, and you could write a whole essay about everything packed into that single word. Her pink hair is still slightly disheveled from where V's dramatic entrance messed it up.

"That's one way to put it." You try to shake off the phantom feeling of thorny vines around your lungs. V's presence leaves you feeling like you've been through some kind of emotional washing machine—tumbled around and wrung out.

"But oh my god." Yunjin's whole face suddenly lights up like she's remembered something amazing. The whiplash from her mood shift almost gives you vertigo.

"What?" You ask, though part of you already knows where this is going. Yunjin might be shy and perceptive, but she's also a total simp when it comes to pretty faces.

"He is SO handsome?" Her voice rises with genuine awe. "Everyone kept saying he looks like a prince, but I thought they were exaggerating. They were not."

You raise an eyebrow, wondering if you were even in the same conversation just now. Sure, V's gorgeous—that's kind of his whole thing. The dangerous beauty, the dripping poison. But after feeling his aura wrap around you like a boa constrictor, 'handsome' isn't exactly the first word that comes to mind.

"Did you miss the whole creepy vibe?" You keep your voice low, even though V's long gone. Some habits die hard in this place. "He talked about the training program like he's planning to turn it into his personal episode of Squid Game. With popcorn."

"Yeah, but like..." Yunjin waves her hand dismissively, "have you seen his face? Those cheekbones? That jawline?"

"The way he's probably plotting our deaths as we speak?" You counter, but you can't help the smile tugging at your lips. Trust Yunjin to focus on the aesthetics while completely ignoring the red flags. It's kind of adorable, in a concerning way.

"Doesn't change the fact that he's eye candy," she says with zero shame, stabbing her fork into her breakfast. "Like, premium, expensive, imported chocolate level of eye candy."

"True," you admit, finally taking a proper bite of your croissant.

And it is true—V's got that whole ethereal beauty thing going on, like a masterpiece painting that happens to be slightly cursed. The kind of face that belongs in museums but also probably comes alive at night to terrorize security guards.

But even as you acknowledge V's obvious appeal, your eyes betray you, drifting back to that other corner of the cafeteria. Back to dark eyes and hurricanes.

Back to Jeon.

It's not like you mean to look.

It just... happens.

Like your gaze has some kind of magnetic programming that keeps pulling it in his direction.

Which is s̶t̶u̶p̶i̶d̶ inconvenient because the last thing you need is to get caught staring at one of the most dangerous men in Kkangpae while you've got croissant crumbs on your face.

The rest of your morning slips by without V popping up again to make your skin crawl. You try to focus on getting ready for what's coming, but your mind keeps drifting to the upcoming training.

Working with Jeon and V's division? Yeah, that's not anxiety-inducing at all.

When you step onto the training field outside the castle, the change of scenery hits different. After being cooped up in the gang's concrete maze, the open space and towering trees feel almost surreal. The cold morning air bites at your lungs—a wake-up call you didn't ask for but probably need.

Today's not just another training day. It's your first cross-training with the Assassination Division, and the tension in the air is so thick you could cut it with one of V's knives.

Your stomach does this weird flip-flop thing as you walk towards the gathering crowd. Working with Jeon after... that incident? Not exactly on your bucket list. The memory of your last encounter sits heavy in your chest, making each step feel like you're walking through mud.

The Assassination Division is already there when you arrive, looking like they stepped out of some action movie poster. Some look ready to murder, others look ready for a nap. But it's Jeon who catches your eye—impossible not to, really. It's like the air itself is swirling around him like a storm about to break.

He's got that look on his face—you know the one. All business, no bullshit, could probably kill you with his pinky finger.

No sign of V though.

Makes sense, when you think about it. Those two aren't exactly besties—more like two wolves forced to share the same territory. Their whole approach to killing is different as night and day.

Jeon's all about precision. Clean shots, minimal mess, maximum efficiency. He's the type to plan every detail, calculate every variable. Need someone taken out from two buildings away without anyone even knowing what happened? That's his specialty. The human equivalent of a surgical strike.

V though? He's chaos incarnate. Gets up close and personal with his kills, leaves a message written in blood if he feels like it. He's the guy you call when you want someone dead and don't care how messy it gets. Planning? Fuck planning—V works on pure instinct and improvisation.

The crowd goes quiet as Jeon steps forward. The atmosphere shifts, less like a raging storm now and more like the heavy air before thunder breaks. When he speaks, his voice does that thing where it demands attention without actually raising in volume. And despite everything—despite knowing better—you find yourself leaning in slightly to catch every word.

"Your state of mind is everything in this line of work," he says, dark eyes scanning the crowd like he's reading everyone's potential in real time. "A calm, collected mind can mean the difference between life and death."

The task he lays out seems simple enough: shoot the cardboard target, hit the center, don't mess it up. But as you watch others take their turns, that knot in your stomach keeps getting tighter.

The gun feels wrong in your hand. Not that you haven't held one before—basic training covers that—but this is different. This is him watching, and somehow that makes your palms extra sweaty.

Then your turn's up.

Walking to the mark feels like crossing a minefield, every step measured and tense. Your heart's going so hard you can barely hear anything else.

Focus. You need to focus.

But Jeon's standing right there, making the air thick and hard to breathe. Your finger hovers over the trigger, but doubt creeps in like poison.

The target blurs in and out. You can feel Jeon watching, that heavy gaze picking apart every flaw in your stance. The pressure builds in your chest until you're sure something's gonna snap.

Just a bit longer. You need to be absolutely sure before taking the shot.

It's not like Seduction gets much practice with actual weapons—your arsenal usually involves batting eyelashes and strategic flirting, not bullets and gunpowder. So it's no wonder the gun starts slipping through your sweaty fingers.

You tighten your grip. A surge of determination hits you like a shot of adrenaline. Come on. It's just cardboard. You've handled way worse situations than this. You can do this.

Your finger starts to squeeze the trigger—

BANG.

That... wasn't your gun.

You flinch, turning toward the sound before you can stop yourself. Through the corner of your eye, you catch smoke curling from Jeon's pistol.

He's standing there looking bored, arm extended like this is just another one of his daily mornings. The gun fits his hand like it was molded for him, an extension of his body rather than a weapon.

When your eyes snap to the target, there it is—perfect shot, dead center, because of course it is.

A̶s̶s̶h̶o̶l̶e̶ Show-off.

You lower your gun, lips pressed tight. His gaze sits heavy on your shoulders, hurricane pressure bearing down until you want to scream. His face gives nothing away, but those dark eyes say plenty—and none of it's good.

"If you're not quick enough, you'll get killed." His voice cuts like ice. "Let that be a reminder for everyone else."

The words hit like a slap. Heat rushes to your face—anger, embarrassment, frustration, all mixing together into something that makes you want to either punch something or crawl into a hole. Preferably punch him, but you're very aware of everyone watching this little show he's putting on.

Both divisions are staring, and you've never felt more like a fish in a very small, very exposed bowl.

Your eyes meet Jeon's, and suddenly breathing gets hard. His stare hits different—those dark eyes boring into yours like he's trying to read your soul, pupils blown wide in a way that makes your stomach do weird flips.

That silver lip ring catches the light when his mouth twists into something s̶e̶x̶y̶ condescending. He opens his mouth—probably to tear into you some more—but then—

BANG.

Everyone drops like puppets with cut strings. Pure instinct.

It's instant chaos. Voices rise into a crescendo of shouts and commands, bodies moving with practiced urgency.

It's kind of beautiful, in a messed-up way—how quickly personal beef gets shelved when shit hits the fan. One minute Jeon's looking at you like you're dirt on his boot, next second he's barking orders to keep everyone safe.

Your heart's in your throat as you scan the crowd for a flash of pink hair.

Yunjin.

But Yunjin's nowhere.

The sea of faces blurs together—no Kazuha, no Eunchae, not even Sakura. Even Chaewon's vanished, which is weird because she's usually got this sixth sense about danger.

Another shot cracks through the air. Your fingers tighten around your gun until your knuckles go white. Your eyes keep drifting to the treeline, where shadows dance between patches of dark green.

A calm, collected mind can mean the difference between life and death.

His words echo in your head, which is ironic considering how not calm you feel right now.

Fuck it.

You're moving before you can second-guess yourself, legs carrying you toward the forest. Maybe it's stupid, but you need space to think. To be calm, like he said.

Plus, the trees might give you cover—an advantage you desperately need right now.

The forest swallows you up. Sunlight filters through leaves overhead, painting everything in shifting patterns of light and shadow. Every step crunches on dead leaves, making you wince. So much for stealth.

V wouldn't be happy.

The chaos from the training ground fades the deeper you go, replaced by normal forest sounds—birds chattering overhead, small animals rustling in the bushes. It's almost peaceful, if you ignore the whole possible death situation.

You spot it then—a ridge overlooking the training ground, hidden behind thick bushes. Perfect vantage point, if you can reach it. The climb makes your muscles burn, but you manage. Up here, you force yourself to breathe slow and steady, trying to quiet your racing heart. Your fingers trace the gun's cold metal like a lifeline.

Your back hits the tree with a thud. The bark scrapes against your spine through your shirt, but you barely notice. Every nerve in your body is focused on that rustling sound behind you.

Footsteps.

Your breath catches. They're quiet—too quiet to be some random person stumbling through the woods.

No, these are the steps of someone who knows how to move silently. Someone trained.

Adrenaline floods your system as you press yourself flatter against the tree. Your fingers tighten around the gun until your knuckles go white. Through a gap in the leaves, you try to catch a glimpse of whoever's approaching, but the foliage is too thick.

Friend or foe?

The question pounds in your head with each careful footstep drawing closer. Your mind races, too many possibilities—it could be an enemy, could be another member searching the area.

Could be death or salvation walking your way.

The steps are almost upon you now. Your breathing goes shallow, controlled. You might be exposed up here, but they don't know that. Surprise is your only advantage right now.

Shoot or strike?

The dilemma tears at you. A gunshot would alert everyone to your location. And if it turns out to be an ally... F̶u̶c̶k̶ No. Hand-to-hand is safer. Quieter. Less explaining to do if you're wrong.

Your muscles coil tight as a spring. When the footsteps are close enough, you launch yourself from behind the tree in one fluid motion, aiming to take them down hard and fast.

Instead, you slam into what feels like a brick wall.

Oh.

It's Jeon.

His reflexes are insane—before you can even process who he is, he's already moving. The air sweeps around you as he twists, disarming you with embarrassing ease. Your gun hits the ground with a clatter that seems to echo through the whole forest.

Recognition hits you both at the same moment. That flicker of shock in his eyes quickly turns to his usual look of disdain, because of course it does.

Then—a misstep.

Your ankle rolls, sending white-hot pain shooting up your leg. You stumble, sucking in a sharp breath. His grip on you loosens just slightly, and something that might be concern flashes across his face before his usual cold mask slips back into place.

"You okay?" His voice is gruff, like the words are being dragged out of him against his will.

"Just perfect," you snap back, because fuck his concern when your ankle feels like it's on fire and your pride hurts even worse.

He just stands there, staring at you with those dark eyes that see too much.

"What the hell were you thinking?" A pause, one eyebrow lifting. "You have a gun, don't you?"

You almost laugh. Because of course. If you'd shot at him, he'd be lecturing you about trigger discipline. Attack hand-to-hand, and suddenly you're an idiot for not using your weapon.

You seriously can't win with this man.

"Well, good thing I didn't use it on you then." The words come out lighter than you feel, dancing between playful and pissed. "And what are you doing here anyway? Shouldn't you be back there playing commander?"

"That's what deputies are for." The casual way he says it makes your teeth grind. "Besides, I dispatched a team to check the gunfire. Just my luck, running into you instead."

"Pleasure's all mine, chief." You load the title with all the sarcasm you can muster.

"And you?" His dark eyes study you like you're a particularly puzzling target he can't quite line up. "Any reason you're out here instead of following orders?"

"Didn't get any orders to follow." You cross your arms, ignoring how his presence makes your skin prickle. "And that ridge over there?" You jab a finger toward the overlook. "Perfect vantage point. I was trying to be strategic before you showed up."

He actually grimaces at that, like your logic physically pains him. But before he can open his mouth to deliver what's surely another lecture, you add:

"Just my luck, running into you instead."

The words—his own words turned back on him—hit their mark. His eyebrow twitches just slightly, and satisfaction blooms warm in your chest.

Score one for you.

But before you can inwardly celebrate, he grimaces. He actually grimaces before he opens his stupid mouth again.

"That?" His voice drips with condescension. "You think that's prime real estate for observation?" The asshole holds back a laughter. "Alright." He says, and you ponder the merits of hitting him with a rock.

But then he begins walking, and you trail after him, partly because s̶c̶r̶e̶w̶ ̶h̶i̶m̶ he's wrong and partly because... well, where else are you gonna go?

"Remind me again—which one of us specializes in persuasion and observation?" You can't keep the annoyance from your voice. His arrogance is starting to give you a headache.

"And which one of us is known for sniping?" He tilts his head just enough for you to catch the silver flash of his eyebrow piercing. "You think I don't know a thing or two about picking vantage points?"

"Just because you can shoot from far away doesn't mean you know the best places to shoot from." The words come out sharper than intended. "What works for a sniper might not work for surveillance. They're different skill sets."

"How so?" He doesn't even bother looking back now. "A lookout's a lookout, smartass."

Your hands find your hips. "You know what? Ask me that again when you sit in on our cross-training. Might learn something useful."

"Learn from an ensign?" His tilt is mocking. "No—learn from you?" He lets out a low chuckle that makes your teeth grind. "Pretty sure it works the other way around."

"Forgot about Flower?" You can't help the snark in your voice. "She's a chief too, and I'm sure she'd love to put you in your place."

The exhale he lets out is so exaggerated it has to be for dramatic effect. "You're insufferable."

"Feeling's mutual, chief."

You trail behind Jeon through the darkness, trying to ignore how his mere presence makes the night air feel electric against your skin. The silence wraps around you both, broken only by your footsteps until—

A rustle in the underbrush.

Before you can react, his hand clamps around your wrist. No warning, no words—just the firm press of tattooed fingers against your pulse point as he yanks you behind a massive rock. You crash against him, bodies colliding in a mess of limbs and s̶h̶i̶t̶ startled breath.

You open your mouth to tell him exactly what you think about being manhandled, but his finger presses against his lips. Shut up. His eyes scan the darkness beyond your hiding spot, focused and lethal.

And suddenly you're way too aware of him.

The moonlight paints him in silver and shadow, highlighting things you've never noticed before. Like how his eyebrow piercing catches the light—two tiny beads of silver that draw attention to the way his brow furrows in concentration. Or how that lip ring glints when his mouth sets in that stern line you know too well.

There's a scar on his left cheek—barely there, really. Just a whisper of a mark that makes you wonder what story it tells. Your eyes drift lower, catching on the small mole decorating the left side of his neck. It's such a delicate detail on someone who radiates danger, like finding a flower growing through concrete.

But it's his eyes that f̶u̶c̶k̶ y̶o̶u̶ u̶p̶ catch you off guard. Dark and deep, framed by stupidly long lashes that flutter when he blinks. They're beautiful in a way that makes your chest tight—and isn't that just f̶u̶c̶k̶i̶n̶g̶ fantastic? You didn't need to know that about him.

This close, you can see the tiny lines at the corners of those eyes. They speak of sleepless nights and heavy choices, of burdens carried too long alone. Watching him like this—he feels different now, less like a storm trying to drown you and more like standing in summer rain.

The realization hits like a punch to the gut: you're seeing Jeon. Not the cold-as-ice division chief or the intimidating Council member. Just... him. Human.

Complex.

His fingers are still wrapped around your wrist like an iron band. If anything, his grip's gotten tighter, and you're caught between wanting to yank free and being weirdly aware of how warm his hand is against your skin in the cool night air. It's hard to tell if you're feeling trapped or protected.

The footsteps draw closer—deliberate, confident. Not someone trying to hide.

You watch a muscle tick in Jeon's jaw, the kind of tiny detail you wouldn't normally notice if you weren't pressed so close to him. It's fascinating, in an annoying way, how he can look so calm while radiating such intense energy.

His eyes flick to yours for just a second, but it feels loaded with... something. Like you're suddenly partners in this mess, whether you like it or not. It's more communication than you've had in all your previous conversations combined.

The rustling gets louder. You hold your breath. Jeon's gone statue-still beside you, but you can feel the coiled tension in him. His dark eyes snap to a spot in the trees, then back to you with unnerving intensity.

"Shoot there."

You stare at him like he's lost his mind. "What?"

"There." His voice is barely a whisper, rough with urgency. He jerks his chin toward whatever he's seeing that you're apparently missing.

"You want me to shoot a tree branch?" The skepticism in your whisper could cut glass. "Seriously?"

"Just do what you're told." The words rumble out of him like distant thunder, crackling with impatience.

You give Jeon a look, but arguing isn't an option right now.

The gun feels heavy as you line up the shot. Your finger finds the trigger, and for a split second, everything goes quiet. The bang echoes through the trees, making your ears ring. You watch as the bullet hits exactly where Jeon wanted—that innocent-looking branch that apparently wasn't so innocent after all.

A net explodes from the darkness like some kind of ninja trap, shooting toward the approaching figure. But whoever it is moves like water—fluid, impossible, beautiful in a terrifying way. The net hits empty ground with a sad little flutter while your brain tries to process what just happened.

Beside you, Jeon goes still. If you weren't pressed so close, you might have missed that tiny hitch in his breath—the only sign that this wasn't part of his plan. His eyes narrow just slightly, that crack in his perfect mask making your stomach do weird flips.

He pushes you back against the rock, putting himself between you and whatever's coming. The stone digs into your spine, cold and rough through your clothes.

Then everything happens at once.

A shadow vaults over your hiding spot, moving with deadly grace. Gunshots crack through the night, and suddenly Jeon's shoving you down, his body covering yours. The world spins into a blur of motion and sound, your pulse drumming so loud you can barely think.

When reality settles back into focus, you watch the figure reach for their mask. Your fingers tighten on your gun, waiting to see what kind of threat managed to dodge one of Jeon's traps.

The mask comes off.

Oh for fuck's sake.

V's grinning like the cat that got the cream. "Paintball night!" he announces with way too much glee for someone who just scared the shit out of you.

Relief and irritation war in your chest. Of course it's V. Who else would turn a simple training exercise into their personal dramatic performance?

You watch Jeon's shoulders drop, but the annoyance is written all over his face. His jaw's so tight you can practically hear all the curses he's not saying.

Always the professional, even when he's irritated.

V's eyes dances with delight as he watches Jeon simmer. "Don't look at me like that, Kookie," he coos, lips curling into that signature smirk that makes you want to take a step back.

Cookie?

You blink, trying to process that nickname. Looking at Jeon—all dark clothes, silver piercings, and intimidating tattoos—the last thing that comes to mind is anything remotely cute or sweet. The mental image of him buying cookies from some terrified boy scouts makes you bite back a laugh.

Now that's a story you'd pay to hear.

Jeon's eyebrow shoots up in that way that somehow manages to say f̶u̶c̶k̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ more effectively than actual words. His tongue pushes against the inside of his cheek, jaw working like he's physically holding back whatever he wants to say. He's irritated.

"I'll give you some advantage," V sighs dramatically, thorny vines wrapping around your lungs even from this distance. "No fun beating you when you're unarmed." The words drip with amusement, like this whole thing is his favorite game. "See ya."

With one last unsettling grin, he melts into the darkness. Because of course he does. Dramatic asshole.

You're still sprawled on the ground, processing what just happened. Leave it to V to turn a regular night into some twisted paintball training session. The man's idea of "improving stealth skills" is giving everyone heart attacks.

Beside you, Jeon's muscles finally uncoil from their battle-ready stance. He looms over you, and you can't tell if the expression on his face is more annoyed or relieved.

"You gonna get up or what?" The words come out gruff, but there's something else there. Something that might be concern if you squint.

Then his hand appears in front of your face. You stare at it for a second, surprised. It's weirdly bare compared to his tattooed arms, and you hesitate before taking it. His grip is firm but careful as he helps you up.

The whole night feels surreal —one weird training session bleeding into another. You glance at Jeon as he stretches, working out the tension in his shoulders.

The mystery of "Cookie" tugs at your curiosity, but one look at his face tells you now's not the time to ask.

Some mysteries are probably better left unsolved.

next | index

🔪 taglist 🔪

@cannotalwaysbenight @livingformintyoongi @itstoastsworld @redcherrykook @somehowukook

© jungkoode 2025 no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[halpyhal]

mom is genuinely shocked (and very angry!) that i thought an item that was on the floor, amongst trash, was trash

[blackswallowtailbutterfly]

Still haven't messaged my mom back. And I don't think I'm going to.

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

Just remembered I have a psychiatrist appointment so early tomorrow. And I obviously dyed my hair so recently because there's green staining on my face. I don't think it's going to look great for the bipolar diagnosis, to disclose that I was feeling impulsive and wanted to get control over something, so I dyed my hair at midnight.

[poppyseed799]

I think one of the weirdest signs that I was trans was that I was fine with being called a woman but NOT a cis woman. I felt awful cuz I was like “do I have a problem with people calling me cis even tho I am???” cuz I am NOT someone who minds being called accurate descriptors such as cis. I felt like I just wanted to be special or something even tho that wasn’t it and felt so bad. Something just felt really wrong about being called a CIS woman. Definitely one of the more thought provoking signs I was trans lol

[yongseungkim]

.

[ubeb0nes]

Getting jealous (AGAIN) as Sevika's girlfriend...

you just can't catch a break, huh? your fault for falling in love with this absolute lady-killer

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༇༇༇

a/n: ever since i remembered i have free will and can post all my sevika goblin thoughts i have been cooking entire posts up in like under an hour, somebody please help me LMAO

i had too many ideas for the jealous!reader, so here's another. i picture this as being my pit fighter!reader characterization, so do with that what you will :33

it isn't that you hate absolutely anybody looking at Sevika at all

like, you get it. and a part of you loves that everyone else can see just as clearly as you how absolutely captivating she is.

BUT IT GETS TO A POINT-

After the incident with the girl at the bar, Sevika does her best to make sure that you don't feel neglected in public. She slips, of course she does, but she does try like hell

It typically goes that anybody who approaches her, flat out doesn't acknowledge you. it's a by-product of how she's so non-PDA that it slips the mind of these thirsty women that she's even in a relationship

You, being a practical and results-driven individual, remedy this by being a little bolder in public every now and then

Nowadays, Sevika doesn't usually object. She understands why you're doing it now, and she's getting tired of the would-be homewreckers coming onto her too lol

You'll cup her cheek, give her a firm but quick kiss whenever you bring a drink over to her while she's in a game of cards. Come up beside her at the bar and rest your hand on her hip for a while (she fucking loves this one, she won't tell you though)

From then on, people start to get the message. If anybody's heartbroken over it, they become less inclined to showing it

So, you almost want to believe you're imagining things when you clock someone from across the bar who seems to keep giving you the stink eye

you're not dumb

you can see the way she's gesturing between you and Sevika to her friends, shaking her head in disgust. now that's a new one...

Sevika has her human arm over your shoulder while this is happening, the other holding onto her hand of cards. She looks over at you when you pluck the cigarillo out from her fingers and take a drag of your own in distress. She's deeply amused by this

"Okay, baby?" "Mhm. Peachy." You were not peachy. The hell did you do to deserve that look?

For a second Sevika thinks you're mad at her, frowning and angling her body towards you (she notices Ran trying to sneak a look at her cards as she does, and bucks playfully at them). Her eyes flick up to follow your line of vision, and then she understands

She chuckles under her breath.

"You could take her in a fight, princess."

oh, and don't you know it. You shake away the thought though, not wanting to escalate the situation in your head in the case that it's actually not at all what you think it is, and then you look stupid

You ask Sevika if she wants another whiskey and she declines, so you get up to just get yours. You're minding your business by the bar, trying to not grace that table with any more glances when that bites you in the ass as a shoulder checks yours

of course, it's the girl. I guess it wasn't in your head

You make eye contact with her when she looks over her shoulder at you and scoffs, shaking her head. You don't look away even as the bartender slides your drink into your hand

now, you have some options here. most of them include violence to some degree. you're contemplating them all as you're walking back to Sevika, eyes straight ahead

then you catch a few choice words from her table; something, something, "-can she fight..." you don't hear the rest, but does it really matter?

you stop in your tracks. you glance up at your girlfriend who didn't see what happened earlier but is watching you now, brow raised and mouthing what's wrong?

at this point, i don't think this even counts as jealousy, you're just defending your woman's honor

you give her a shake of your head that says don't worry (and now she's definitely worrying), and turn on your heel and make a beeline for the bitch's table

Sevika is about to get up to back you up- for whatever the situation may be- when she sees your posture as you stand over the girl from earlier.

Ran stops her though, grinning from ear to ear. "Let your girl have this, Sev. I wanna see her beat ass." Sevika scoffs, but tentatively sits back down. She trusts your judgement. Whatever your call is-

oh, you're smashing your glass over the girl's head. Ran gives a loud whoop

"You wanna take her from me? Go ahead, try," you'd said while Ran was talking Sevika down. The smile on your face was near-manic. "See what she does when you put your hands on me."

It's not like this woman was exactly tiny or helpless-looking; most in Zaun strived to be neither. But Sevika hadn't been lying when she said you could take her.

It was not a memo she'd received, though.

You couldn't recall what exactly she'd said, but you do know your mind reached an immediate state of singularity when she said she'd kill you before Sevika could do anything about it.

BET

"Goddammit-" Sevika barks out your name as she shoots up from her chair. Ran is doubled over with laughter

She's deceptively fast for her height, and thank fucking god for it. Her human arm wraps around your waist like a vise, pulling you back with ease

She would've been cutting up right with Ran in any other circumstance, given the way you were stancing on the now-dazed woman, fists clenched and shoulders shrugged up like an angry big cat

"Down, girl," she mutters to you. Her lips quirk up at the way you shift your jaw around, obviously still pissed off and ready to scrap

"I was defending your honor." "Mhm. What would I do without you, huh?"

Sevika's in front of you when the woman scrambles up out of her seat to retaliate. Sevika towers over the both of you, and you're nearly completely hidden behind her now as she glares at the woman

"You don't wanna fight her, much less me. Go ahead and clear off."

Maybe jealousy isn't as accurate of a term for you as territorial. You've got nothing to be jealous of, not with how fiercely devoted Sevika is at every turn

[wonderjanga]

Marvel’s Lives

As you guys know, there have been previous champions. They’ve all lived different lives and such. Some have been men, some women, and are some genders that don’t exist anymore. Point is, no one life is the same.

Let’s say some female heroes are talking about abortion one day and out of nowhere Cap just chimes in:

Marvel: “Oh yeah, pregnancy is tough, man. Giving birth is not for the weak. I’m speaking from experience here. Anyone who doesn’t want that, shouldn’t do it.”

Female JL members: “What…?”

Black Canary: “Marvel, last I checked, you were a man.”

Marvel: “Actually, a few thousand years ago, I used to be a woman!”

Female JL members: “???”

Marvel: “I’ve been a woman, multiple times actually.”*proceeds to walk away like he didn’t drop that on them*

They’re all thinking he’s trans, but no? His words imply he’s fluid? The thing is though is that Marvel’s never really shown that he’s either. The question was later asked by Hawkwoman when he was making oobleck in the kitchen of the Watchtower

Hawkwoman: “Captain.”

Marvel: “Yes, Ms. Hawkwoman?”

Hawkwoman: “Are you a woman?”

Marvel: *looks up from his oobleck to her, looking confused* “No? Why?”

Hawkwoman: “Some of the other girls were talking about how you were a woman at some point.”

Marvel: “Ooooh that. I was a woman. Yeah.”

Hawkwoman: “So you’re not anymore. What did you look like as a woman, if I may ask? Also what is that?” *points to the oobleck*

Marvel: “Oobleck.” *offers bowl off oobleck to her for her to play with* “Also, sure. Just a sec.” *mutters a spell*

Hawkwoman: *pokes the oobleck*

Marvel: *poofs and is now a female champion from like seven thousand years ago. His suit also changed to the previous champion’s own suit* “Tada!”

Hawkwoman: *does a double take when she sees him* “You… Certainly have a darker complexion.”

Marvel: “Yeah. If I remember correctly, I lived in the Middle Eastern area back then. That’s probably why.”

Hawkwoman: “And why are you white now?”

Marvel: “My appearance changes every few a hundred years or so. That includes my skin color, gender, and other features.”

Hawkwoman: “Oooooh. Okay then.”

They proceeded to play together with the oobleck after that.

Like ten minutes after that initial interaction…

WW: “Shayera. There you are. I was wondering if you wish to spar with me.” *notices Marvel* “Who is this? A new hero?”

Marvel: *turns around, hands covered in oobleck*

Hawkwoman: *also turns around, hands covered in oobleck* “What’d you say? I was distracted.”

WW: “I was wondering if you wanted to spar with m…” *trails off when she sees Shazam’s lighting bolt on fem Marvel* “Brother?”

Marvel: “Hi, Ms. Wonder Woman.” *waves an oobleck covered hand*

WW: “Why’re you a woman?”

Marvel: “Ms. Hawkwoman asked.” *shrugs*

The three then proceeded to play with the oobleck together.

Then, there was the time someone asked Marvel about his religion when they heard he believed in the Greek Gods.

Marvel: *shrugs* “I’ve been multiple different flavors of pagan. Fun fact, a couple thousand years ago, I used to be a ritualistic cannibal. It was apart of the offerings and rituals of a shaman. Or at least the types of shamans of that time in that specific empire.”

JL member: “Do you still eat people now?”

Marvel: “That’s not important, the point is, if there’s a religion, I most likely at some point practiced it. Or at least the super old version of it.”

JL member: “Okay? But do you still eat people now??”

Marvel: “I guess I’m saying I’m kinda in between religions?”

JL member: “Can you please stop ignoring the questioning ?”

He continued to ignore the question.

Of course, the ritual cannibal thing isn’t the only one of the outlandish things Billy’s casually admitted to doing. Eventually though, things can get a little bit too much for some members.

Marvel: *telling them about another thing he did in a past life*

GL: “Okay! That’s enough, dude!”

Marvel: *concerned* “What? Did I say something wrong?”

GL: “No, I’m just confused as to why you’ve done all these things, man. Are these like side quests you under go? Or like…? What’s going on, pal?”

Marvel: “Nothing…? These are just things I’ve happened to do.” *shrugs*

GL: “So you’re willingly telling me you tried to trample someone to death with a horse just for funsies?”

Marvel: “Well, when you put it like that-”

Flash: “Wait, what about the time you told me you were a princess before princesses were a thing?”

Marvel: “I uh-”

Superman: “And the time you told me that you used your lightning powers to become a cult leader?”

Marvel: “Okay, I get it. I’ll stop tell you guys about myself.”

MM: “Captain, it’s not that we don’t want you to tell us about yourself. It’s instead that your stories seem to have no cause for them.”

Flash: “Yeah! Like why did you feel the need to become a cult leader? How were you a princess?? Why would you want to trample someone with a horse???”

Marvel: *shrugs*

Flash: “Wha- Don’t just shrug!”

Marvel: “I was a different person back then.”

Superman: “That’s a little too cryptic, bud.”

[cassiebones]

The expression on Alice's face is everything to me.

Because she had a mother who loved her and tried to protect her with every little bit of magic she had.

And now she's witnessing a mother who hated her own child since the moment said child was born.

I feel in part that this is Alice realizing that she's not the only one with Mommy Issues™ and that there's a lot more to Agatha Harkness than she was led to believe.

While the argument can be made that Alice was neglected by her mother, as well as abused (forcing a 13yo to get a tattoo???), at least she's become aware just how much her mother cared about her, was scared for her, and tried to protect her.

Evanora Harkness, on the other hand, actively tried to kill her own child. She got together a group of women to kill her daughter. And said "evil" daughter then granted mercy to these killers' children, to her own detriment.

It has to be such a shocking dichotomy for Alice. Especially since, despite being raised by somebody who hated her for the first couple decades of her long life, Agatha still seems to crave her mother's love and approval, which Alice can probably very much relate to.

And then to think of the fact that Agatha was a mother herself. She probably loved Nicholas from the second she found out that she was pregnant. I kind of guess she wanted a girl (another young witch to raise and do it better than the mother who hated her), but was no less thrilled to have her son.

The grief she feels still, after losing him decades - if not well over a century - ago is palpable. She probably told him every single day just how much he meant to her. She probably held him in her arms, marveling at every little detail of his little face, his fingers and toes, his eyes, his smile...and she probably raised him with the love of her life at her side.

And then he was taken from her. Partly by whatever killed him and partly by the love of her life. And it left her broken, grief-stricken, and angry.

Not angry just because Rio took him away (because it was her job), but also because she remembered how own mother trying to kill her and she probably wondered what she had done wrong to evoke such anger in her own mother as she would never try to harm even a single hair on her son's little head.

It was clear in that episode that, as stated above, Agatha still crave's her mother acceptance and affection, even after all she did to her. It's not something you get over very quickly - the burn of your mother's rejection and ire. And, as tough and unflappable as Agatha likes to play it, she is definitely still feeling the pain.

And it's heart-breaking.

[atlabeth]

unadulterated loathing (pt 3, finale)

pt 1 / pt 2

pairing: fiyero tigelaar x fem reader

summary: you are forced to partner up with fiyero on a history project. things don't go as you imagine.

a/n: the final part!! this was meant to be a really short one shot to show my appreciation for jb and then it ended up becoming. 15000 words. so you know sometimes things happen. anyways i hope you enjoy lol i had a lot of fun writing these two

wc: 4.7k

warning(s): none really? i guess some minor angst w/ allusions to cheating but this is the resolution it's pretty much all fluff

You’d never been this nervous on your way to the library. 

Maybe it was because you were just on the edge of helping Fiyero cheat on his girlfriend, and said girlfriend showed up in the midst of said almost cheating. 

Yeah. It was probably that. 

You didn’t know what was wrong with you, honest. It was almost exactly two weeks ago that you were a perfectly sane individual, more interested in making sure Fiyero didn’t ruin your life, and more importantly your grades—and now you couldn’t stop thinking about him. 

You exhaled slowly as you stopped outside the door. You were going to finish the project tonight, and then everything would be back to normal. You would be back to only caring about your grades, and Fiyero would go back to Galinda. 

You ran your hands down your uniform to straighten your top, as well as try to straighten out your thoughts. At least you were early—you’d have some time to try and be a normal person while you waited for Fiyero to show up. 

That is, until you walked into the library and immediately heard someone call your name. 

Your eyes snapped in the direction of the voice, and your breath hitched despite yourself when you saw it was Fiyero. You cringed against the dirty looks from various students as you hurried over to him, where he sat at your usual table. 

“Good of you to finally show up,” he said in mock disdain. “You know, we are partners, so it would be nice for you to put in the same amount of effort.” 

You huffed as he threw your words back at you. “Clever. You’re still not meant to be loud in a library.” 

Fiyero shrugged. “I’m sure they don’t mind.” 

“They very much do,” you said, taking your seat across from him. “And why are you so early?”

“I wanted to make sure we got our usual spot,” he said. “Very popular real estate, this table.” 

“Right,” you nodded. “Thank you, then.” 

“Of course.” Fiyero looked at the stack of books in your arms—you’d been carrying them around for the past two weeks. “I wasn’t sure if you would remember to get the books after.” 

“Didn’t I tell you?” you said wryly. “I remember everything.” 

“Of course,” he repeated, his lips twitching. “I went by the library after to get them, but sure enough, you already had.” 

“You went to get them?” 

“You were soaked to the bone. I figured you had more important things to do.” 

“If you’ve been listening at all lately, you would know that school is the most important thing to me.”

“Right.” Fiyero chuckled, but there was a different edge to it. “I trust you were able to get back safely?” 

“It’s just to my dorm. I was fine. Oh, and—” you opened your bag and pulled out Fiyero’s jacket, perfectly folded— “thank you for this. I washed and dried it, so you don’t have to worry about any of it.”

He smiled as he took it, choosing to set it down next to him rather than slip it back on. Honestly, you were thankful. You… really liked this stripped down look. “I’m glad it was useful.” 

“It was,” you nodded. “How was your talk with Galinda?” 

He sighed and shook his head. “It was nothing.” 

“Fiyero, it was very obviously something,” you said. “What did she say to you?” 

“I brought coffee like you asked,” he said instead. He pushed both cups over to you. 

“Fiyero—” 

“I got you two,” he continued. “Figured you would need them more than I do.” 

You held your tongue as you stared at him, and he stared right back. It was clear you weren’t going to get anything out of him about this—at least, not yet. 

So you nodded and took one of the cups. “Thank you. You’re probably right.” 

Fiyero smiled and nodded. Then his eyes lit up, and he pointed at you. “You said you knew why Dillamond paired us together.” 

“Oh, yeah.” You chuckled a bit and shrugged. “I don’t know how I didn’t figure it out sooner. He was hoping we would both mellow each other out.” 

He frowned. “What do you mean?” 

“All I really care about is school. I have big dreams and only one shot at them, so I refuse to slow down—I don’t know how to not stress about everything in my life, and it’s kinda killing me. You, on the other hand, don’t stress about anything. You dance through life without care—for your grades, what other people think about you, even the future, but because of it, people don’t ever see you for who you really are.” You tapped on the table between you. “We’re opposite ends of the spectrum. Doctor Dillamond wanted this project to help us meet in the middle—to influence each other for the better.”

“...Huh.” Fiyero leaned back and laughed. “So this was really just some kind of experiment?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” you said wryly. “I think he just saw an opportunity and took it.” You gave him a look. “He was probably tired of you failing every test.” 

“And he was probably tired of you trying to take over his job,” Fiyero said in turn. 

“Oh, whatever,” you admonished with a smile. 

“Do you think it worked?”

“...I think so, yeah.” You gestured at him. “I couldn’t stand you at the beginning of all this. Now, I’d say we’re something close to friends.” 

“Something close to friends?” he asked in mock pain. “Not even the full thing?” 

“Give it another month.” 

“I don’t know,” Fiyero said offhandedly. “Wanting to hang out for another month sounds like something friends would do.” 

“Are you done?” you asked. 

“Never,” he said. “But I’ll put a temporary pause on it. Where are we at? How much work do we have left?” 

“We’ve got the whole paper written and I’ve proofread all of it—we just need to go through and rewrite some parts to make them stronger, and maybe add a little more substance in the middle. The sixth page is the weakest one.” 

“Makes sense,” he said. “It is the sixth page.” 

You huffed a laugh as you opened the folder you’d been keeping everything in and slid it over to the middle of the table. “Have you read the whole thing yet?” 

He shook his head, and your eyebrows rose. “Really? 

“Just the pages I wrote,” he said. “I’m sure yours are much better than mine.” 

“Then you read the whole essay while I go through my additions,” you said. “I could use some fresh eyes on it all—I’ve been staring at those words forever.” 

Fiyero nodded and took the stapled papers out of the folder. He met your eyes as he flipped the top page over. “Very nice title page.” 

“Thank you,” you said. “I took inspiration from the cover of a book Ilara wrote on Winkie languages, actually.” 

His eyebrows shot up. “Really?” 

You shrugged, biting back your smile as you turned back to your pages. “I thought it would be a nice touch.” 

You could see Fiyero’s smile out of your peripherals, and it almost made you forget about the questions gnawing at your skull. 

But now clearly wasn’t the time. So you pushed them away and did what you did best—ignored everything else in your life in favor of getting your schoolwork done. 

The time passed quickly enough that way. It took Fiyero a decent amount of time to read the entire paper—it didn’t help that he got distracted about twenty-five times and bothered you with questions each time, but his questions were at least related to the paper half the time, so you humored them. 

Two hours, both coffees, what felt like a thousand questions, and one exploded fountain pen later (thankfully not yours, though Fiyero somehow made the ink splatter on his undershirt look good)—

“I… think we’re actually done.” 

“Oz, I hope so,” Fiyero muttered. “This is the longest I’ve ever been in the library.” 

“These are rookie numbers,” you said wryly. “But yes, we’re done. We’ve got a really solid paper here, Fiyero.” You smiled. “And you helped with a good amount of it.” 

He puffed out his chest. “And you thought I would just ride your coattails the entire time.” 

“You thought that too,” you said. 

“I did,” he amended. “But it’s kind of impossible going against you.” 

You grinned. “I can’t believe it took you this long to figure it out.” 

You stood up from the table and took some time to stretch. Your wrists and fingers hurt from writing, and your eyes were strained from reading so much of your own writing (and Fiyero’s) for so long, but none of it really bothered you. You finished your midterm the day before it was due, and you were immensely proud of it. Considering you were at odds—admittedly one-sided odds—with Fiyero at the beginning, it should have been branded a miracle. 

“I know I’ve said it a lot, but I truly don’t know how you do this,” Fiyero said. “This is the most I’ve used my brain in a long time, but this is how you live. Truly exhausting.” 

You smiled. “Maybe you can try and get better grades now.” 

“Oh, darling,” Fiyero chided, “who do you think I am?” 

You chuckled and shook your head. “It was worth a shot.” 

You began to gather all the books scattered about the table—you were usually organized when you did work, but you’d ended up making quite the mess—and Fiyero helped. The two of you dropped them in the returns and you cracked your knuckles. 

“I’m so glad I don’t have to keep carrying all those back and forth,” you said.

“I’m surprised you haven’t thrown out your back yet,” he remarked. “But now you’re done with books for a while, at least.” 

“Oh, hardly,” you remarked. “In fact, there’s a chemistry book I need to check out to help with my assignment coming up.” 

Fiyero frowned as he started following your quick pace back to the aisles. “Have you got another paper?” 

“Not yet,” you said, paying him no mind as you checked book bindings to keep yourself on the right track. He could hardly keep up with you. “I just want to study up on the method we’re going to be using so I know how to do it.” 

“Isn’t the point of class to learn how to do it?” he asked. 

“I’m just wasting time if I don’t already know what I’m doing,” you said. You made a triumphant noise as you realized you were in the right aisle, and you started moving down, eyes rapidly scanning last names on book spines. 

“You truly make no sense,” Fiyero murmured. 

“There it is!” you exclaimed. You took a particularly hefty book off the shelf and skimmed through the first couple of pages, nodding once you’d confirmed you had the right one. “Alright, now we can—”

“That’s one nasty bruise.” 

You looked up from the pages to see Fiyero much closer than before, his brows furrowed as he looked at your arm. 

Your attention fell to where he was focused on, and you shrugged. “I must’ve done it while I was getting out of the water. I’ve always bruised easily.” 

“Probably because you don’t take care of yourself,” he said wryly. He moved to take your arm, but he met your eyes first for permission. When you nodded, he placed one hand underneath to support it. “Does it hurt?” 

“Not anymore,” you said. “I told you, Fiyero—I’m fine.” 

“I know,” he sighed. “You always are; I’m beginning to realize that.” 

You shrugged, though you smiled inwardly. “It’s a virtue.” 

“I really am sorry that you fell into the water,” he said. “I feel like it’s my fault.” 

“It’s not your fault at all,” you said. If anything, it was your fault for going into complete panic mode at the slightest glimpse of Galinda. 

“Still, though,” he said. “I’m surprised you weren’t angrier.” 

“Well… All this time I’ve spent with you has made me realize I don’t need to take everything so seriously.” You gave him a sideways smile, trying to imitate that easy smile he always seemed to have in his back pocket. “Especially when I’ve already got everything worked out.” 

“I’m glad I could teach you something,” Fiyero said softly. “In return for all you taught me.” 

“I taught you how to write an essay, you taught me how to not be miserable all the time,” you said wryly. “Certainly equals.” 

“You came along with it,” he murmured. “That’s more valuable than anything.” 

Something hard pressed against your back, and you realized you’d backed up against the bookcases, Fiyero angled in a way that caged you in. You met his eyes, surprised to see he was already looking at you. 

His gaze drifted to your lips. He started to lean in, you doing the same without fully realizing it, as if the two of you were pulled by some invisible string. 

His eyes had already fluttered shut. You were inches from his lips—he was letting you take the first step at your own pace. 

And then you stopped. 

“You’re with Galinda,” you whispered. You couldn’t help it. 

Fiyero stopped, and he sighed before he opened his eyes. “Hardly.”

“You’re arm in arm everywhere you go,” you said. “She’s head over heels for you and everyone knows, most of all you. You saw how she reacted to the two of us down by the water today!”

“She thinks there’s so much more than there is,” he said. “I’ve been pulling away. If she hasn’t noticed—”

“Does she know that?” you asked. 

He stayed silent. 

“Fiyero, does she know that you think this little of your relationship?” 

“...No,” he admitted. “She’s not the best at taking hints.” 

“Then don’t make her take them. Tell her.” You shook your head, letting out a shaky sigh as you took a step back. “If— if you actually want this—want me—then you have to tell her. You have to end things with her.”

Fiyero reached out a hand as he said your name, and you shook your head once more. 

“Galinda doesn’t deserve to be strung along while you try to figure out how you feel,” you said. “And neither do I.”

“That’s not what this is,” he said. “I promise.”

“Promises mean nothing if they’re just words,” you said. You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to get rid of the chill running down your spine. “You know what I want, Fiyero. If it’s not what you want, then—”

“What do you want?” he interrupted. 

“I—” the word stuck in your throat. Fiyero was so close you could feel his warmth, smell his scent—it threatened to overwhelm you in the most intoxicating way. 

“What?” Fiyero’s gaze didn’t waver. Oz, he wanted to kill you. He wanted to hear you say it.

“I want you,” you finally managed to get out. Something changed in his eyes, and you saw his throat bob. “But I need to know this is real.” 

Fiyero took your hand. “It is.” 

He pulled you closer to him, and it would have been the easiest thing in the world to fall into him and let him give you what you’d been fighting against. But you weren’t going to kiss him and make a fool of yourself just for him to go back to Galinda. 

“Then prove it,” you said. You took your hand back, and you pushed past him. Fiyero put up no resistance, and you still felt his eyes on you. 

“And when I do?” he spoke up. 

That stopped you in your tracks. You turned to meet his eyes, softer than you’d ever seen them. You looked down at the book in your hand, and you held it out to him. 

“Then meet in the library tomorrow to help me with my chemistry assignment.” 

Fiyero took the book and nodded. “I guess I’ve got even more to learn.”

-

You had a very rude awakening to your alarm clock the next morning. 

You hadn’t been able to sleep the whole night, your stupid, stupid words replaying in your head over and over again. Usually, when you couldn’t sleep you just worked on homework. But all of your homework was done, and you’d just finished your essay, so you had nothing to do but stare up at the ceiling. And stare up at the ceiling you did — you counted all the flowers and leaves on it at least fifteen times. 

It didn’t really help that Fiyero appeared in your dreams once you finally did manage to get some sleep, doing all sorts of lovely things to you. 

Cora was right. Against your better judgment, you liked Fiyero—just like everyone else liked Fiyero. 

All you had to hope was that he liked you too. 

It wasn’t absurd to think he did, was it? The man tugged at your strings constantly, but he stayed by your side the entire project despite your insults. He barely even glanced at Galinda when she confronted the two of you, and he offered his jacket in spite of all of it. 

He practically told you he liked you last night—Great Oz, he tried to kiss you. 

You overthought everything in your life, but you couldn’t overthink this. 

Could you?

God, men turned you into a disaster. There was a reason you avoided silly dalliances. 

You tried to push Fiyero out of your mind as much as possible as you got ready, but it wasn’t easy. You could, in fact, overthink this—and you very much were. 

You opened your door to go to the restrooms, but your door hit something. You frowned and crouched down, and you realized it was a book. Your chemistry book.

Your heart pounded as you picked it up. A strip of paper had been wedged in the middle, and when you pulled it out and smoothed the slip, you nearly dropped the book. 

You’re what I want. I just have to clear some things up. 

Meet me at Ozdust after dark. Wear your best. 

FT

Your heart fluttered despite yourself. 

Fiyero didn’t forget. You hadn’t scared him off with your declarations, with— with all your you. 

He didn’t forget. He chose you. 

He chose you. 

(You couldn’t overthink this.) 

((You were going to.))

Oh, Oz. 

How were you meant to go to your classes today?

-

You could have sworn you were shaking the entire way to Ozdust. 

This was just… not you. Sneaking off campus in the middle of the night, getting glitzed up to go dance, being with someone like Fiyero—it was so unfamiliar. You had to get Coralie to do your makeup and hair, and she squealed practically the entire time. For someone so smart, she really lost it when she was right. 

But you owed it to him to go through with it. After all, he wrote a ten page paper with you. You could do a little bit of dancing. 

You’d already started looking for him the moment you walked through the doors. You needed one thing to keep you afloat here. 

Thankfully, it didn’t take very long. You found Fiyero leaning up against a pillar, his arms crossed and gaze unfocused as his foot bounced up and down repeatedly. Warmth blossomed within your body just at the sight of him, which you were partly thankful for—your dress had you shivering. 

His head perked up as if he could sense your arrival, and it only took a few moments for him to find you in the crowd. The weight on his shoulders dissolved as he grinned and started to weave his way through the throngs of bodies to get to you. 

You couldn’t help but smile too when he reached you, something you’d never really seen before in his eyes as he met yours.

“You came,” Fiyero said.

“How could I not?”

He let out a nervous laugh. “Very easily, I think. I saw about a hundred different scenarios where you didn’t show.” 

“Overthinking,” you said. “It looks like I’ve taught you a little too much.” 

Fiyero grinned and shook his head. “Never.” 

You lifted up the skirt of your dress, feeling your skin heat beneath his gaze. “What do you think?”

“You’re beautiful,” he said softly. “You always are— always have been. This just accentuates it.”

“You’re too kind.” You wrapped your arms around yourself on instinct, feeling awfully bare and insecure now that everything had settled a bit. “This… isn’t exactly my scene.” 

“That project wasn’t my scene and you got me through it well enough,” he responded. “This is my scene—so just trust me and let me take the lead.”

“Trust you?” you said with a sideways smile. “I’m not sure there are worse things.”

“Oh, believe me.” Fiyero held out his hand. “There are indeed.” 

Before you could doubt yourself, you took it. He walked you to the dance floor, and you cleared your throat. 

“Is this a bad time to say I don’t really dance?” 

“You’ll be fine,” Fiyero assured. “I’m an excellent lead.” 

He was indeed. You always thought that you had two left feet, but Fiyero made you feel like you actually knew what you were doing. Every time you thought you might step on his foot, he would take you into the next few steps and it would all be fine. Of course, his touch lit flames everywhere it went, but that was of no matter. He only made you weak in the knees. 

As you looked at Fiyero, your arms draped around his neck and his hands resting on your waist while you swayed together to a slower part of the song, you couldn’t help but ask. 

“How did you break it to her?” 

Fiyero sighed. “I was wondering when you were going to ask that.” 

“You can’t blame me,” you said. 

“No,” he agreed. He sighed again. “Very carefully. And I had to do it about three times, because she didn’t fully believe me the first two times.” 

You bit your lip. “I’m sorry.” 

“Oh, don’t be. It was a long time coming. I care about her, but not in the way she does for me.” He gave you a wry smile. “That’s why I left the book at your door. I didn’t know how long it would take.” 

“And how long did it take?

“The better half of the day.”

You winced. “I hope she’s alright.”

“She will be,” he said. “Especially with someone like Elphaba by her side.”

“Good,” you said. “I… I didn’t want to hurt her.”

“You didn’t,” Fiyero assured. “If anything, you kept her from further harm by bringing me to my senses.”

“I wasn’t sure if you had.” You let out a nervous laugh—all of this was such new territory that you felt like you were stumbling over every step. 

“I wasn’t sure if you were going to show,” Fiyero said in turn. “It’s the first time I’ve been nervous about a girl in a while.”

His smile was so genuine, with a touch of the anxiousness you felt over every little part of your life. It had to feel absurd for someone who never worried a day in their life. 

“Really?” you asked. “I make you nervous?”

Fiyero shrugged—he actually looked bashful, and it was the cutest thing in the world. “You’ve got that effect on me. Effortlessly, I might add.” 

“Flatterer,” you remarked, but you were grinning all the while. “You know, you have the same effect on me. I stressed out even more trying to figure out if you liked me or not. Or if I liked you.”

“You know how much I adore that beautiful brain of yours,” Fiyero said, “but we made it. There’s nothing for you to overthink here.” 

“Oh, I think you underestimate me,” you said wryly. “Right now, I’m mainly stressing out about my dress and my makeup and accidentally stepping on your foot. I’m also a little stressed about the strength of these pillars, and I’m already thinking about my next assignment in chemistry now that I’ve got my book back.” 

Fiyero laughed as he spun you around. “Let me try to lay some of those to rest then,” he said when he had you back in his arms. “You look absolutely stunning in your dress, and your makeup is  perfect. You’re not going to step on my foot, and if you do, you can blame it on me because I’m leading you. If any of these pillars collapse, I’ll save you as any prince worth his salt would. As for your chemistry assignment, we’ll just work together on it.” 

You leaned your head against his chest as you swayed together. “And just how much do you know about chemistry?” 

“If you’re talking about whatever it is going on between the two of us, then I consider myself an expert.” 

“Fiyero.” You tried to be stern, but you couldn’t help your smile. He just brought out a different side in you. 

“Oh, you’ll be fine. I know you will.” When he twirled you back around, he wore the same easy smile from when the two of you got paired together. Funny how you wanted to punch it off him then, and you want to kiss it off him now. “You got me to write an essay without me complaining the entire time. You can do anything.” 

“Oh, I know I can,” you said with a smile. “I don’t do all this because I doubt that I’ll succeed.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” he mused. 

“Really?”

“I just want you to know how amazing you are,” Fiyero said. “I’ll tell you every day if that’s what it takes.”

“I wouldn’t say no to that,” you murmured.

A new song started up and Fiyero guided you into a new dance. He was so sure of every step that it almost made you feel like you knew what you were doing as well. 

“You say you’re prepared for anything.” Fiyero’s voice was a sultry whisper as he led you around the floor, and your entire body ignited with his every word and touch. “What would you do if I kissed you?”

For a moment, all you could do was meet his lidded gaze. It dropped to your lips, and suddenly it was all you could imagine.

“I—” your throat bobbed as you swallowed, your mouth dry beyond belief, “—I would kiss you back.”

“Oh, darling,” he breathed, the hand he had on your waist drawing you closer, “that was all you needed to say.”

Fiyero dipped you, strong arms supporting you all the while as he leaned down to meet your lips. It was everything that you’d imagined and more, his plush lips enveloping yours as his scent filled your nose.

He took over all your senses. His scent, his lips on yours, his strong arms supporting you with ease, your fingers tangling in his hair. Were his arms not around you, you would have surely collapsed. You always thought people were exaggerating when they said they got weak in the knees—you didn’t think that anymore. 

Fiyero only let up an inch when he pulled away, still close enough for your noses to brush even as he brought you back up out of the dip. You closed your eyes and touched your forehead to his, and you heard his breath hitch the slightest bit. The ballroom was full of people, and yet he made you feel as if you were the only two in all of Oz. 

“You’re incredible,” you murmured. You felt like you could melt. 

“As are you.” Fiyero let out a breathy sigh. “I can’t believe I waited so long.” 

“I hope it was worth the wait.” 

“You’re worth everything and more,” he said softly. 

He leaned in and brushed his lips against yours again; once, twice, three times before he pulled back. He was nothing less than intoxicating. 

“We make a pretty good team,” he said with a sideways smile. “Don’t you agree?”

This time, spurred on by his encouragement, you cupped his face in your hands and kissed him. Fiyero kept you close with his hands on your waist, and you only pulled away when air became a necessity. You couldn’t help your stupid smile—it had been a long time since you’d felt this happy, and it was all because of the man in front of you. 

You couldn’t believe you ever thought you loathed him. 

“I do,” you murmured. “I really, really do.”

[earlysunshines]

love at your door

minatozaki sana x fem!reader

synopsis: you wake up on the couch to find out that it’s actually not your couch and oh my god why is your hot neighbor sitting across from you watching tv???

warnings: sana is a FLIRT ; reader is a loser ; sana is a losersexual ; pacing is iffy but it’s bc i wanted it to be short ; alcohol ; anything else i didn’t mention ; not proofread so prob spelling errors idk i wrote most on my phone

a/n: based off the time i got drunk and fell asleep in the wrong room… anyways my love for sana will NEVER DIE guess who’s BACK.

you wake up with a groan, face smushed against a cushion that's definitely not yours, and the first thing that hits you—aside from the dull pounding in your head—is the faint sound of a tv playing in the background. 

slowly, you crack your eyes open, blinking against the morning light. you finally realize you’re not in your room, and the couch you're sprawled out on… also not yours.

you sit up too quickly and regret it immediately, head spinning, the room around you momentarily blurred. but then it sharpens, and your heart nearly stops when you spot her. sana, your neighbor—your gorgeous, gorgeous neighbor that you’ve been eyeing since you moved in—sitting across from you on her armchair, completely unbothered with her legs tucked underneath her, eyes fixed on the tv but clearly aware you’re awake now. 

she’s holding a ceramic mug in one hand, and for some reason, that little detail makes everything so much worse.

because—how did you end up here?

you glance down at yourself and, of course, you’re still in your luigi costume from last night. the tight green tank top clings to you under the denim overalls (one strap purposely loose and falling off your shoulder because you’re desperate for attention in these trying times) which you had decided to wear in some ill-fated attempt to look “hot” while still committing to the theme. you had succeeded, at least you think, judging from the compliments you vaguely remember through the drunken haze of the halloween party. but now, under sana’s gaze, you suddenly feel a lot less confident about it.

“jesus christ,” you mutter, rubbing your temples, trying to piece together what happened. “what—”

“morning sleepy,” sana says, finally looking over at you, lips curling into a small, amused smile. “you came stumbling in after the party. i figured it was safer to let you crash here than send you back to your place like that.”

this has to be a nightmare.

her voice is casual, like this isn’t completely mortifying for you. like this isn’t the exact scenario your sleep-deprived, engineering-major brain has dreamed up in countless fleeting moments when you’ve caught glimpses of her in the hallways (well, you figured you’d be in a less embarassing scene) but now it’s real, and your heart is thudding painfully loud in your chest, and you can’t decide if you want to disappear or if you never want to leave.

(the first option might be the smartest)

you clear your throat, pushing down the urge to bury your face in your hands. “i’m so sorry. i didn’t—i didn’t mean to crash here like that. i must’ve been drunk out of my mind i— fuck, nayeon, that bitch… im sorry my friends they’re—“

“don’t worry about it,” she waves off your apology, taking a sip from her mug, her gaze briefly dipping down to your outfit before flicking back to your face. “i never knew luigi could look this good.” she adds, a smirk playing on her face that renders you weak.

you feel heat rise to your face instantly, and you’re pretty sure it’s not just the aftermath of all the alcohol you consumed last night. her words hang in the air, teasing, but there’s something else in her tone that sends a jolt through you. something that makes you suddenly hyper-aware of how exposed you feel, the snug fit of the tank top and the way her eyes had lingered on your exposed skin just for a second.

“uh—” you start, but your voice comes out strained, so you clear your throat again, scrambling for a response. “thank you…?”

she grins at your awkwardness, a soft, almost mischievous smile that only adds to the rising tension in the room. “you’re welcome.”

you force a laugh, trying to ignore the way her gaze makes your skin tingle. “right, well… thanks for, uh, taking care of me. and not letting me do something even more embarrassing.”

“more embarrassing than this?” sana raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying your discomfort. she gestures toward your outfit with a nod, and you can’t help but huff a laugh this time, the tension breaking just a little.

“point taken,” you mutter, swinging your legs off the couch to stand, only for a wave of dizziness to hit. sana’s on her feet in a second, steadying you with a hand on your arm, her touch gentle but firm.

“easy,” she murmurs, and you freeze, suddenly way too aware of how close she is. her hand lingers just a second too long, and when she finally lets go, you feel like you can breathe again—but it doesn’t stop your pulse from racing.

her eyes dart down to the base of your neck and the intensity of her gaze is amplified.

“quite a hickey, huh?”

“what?” you had to be drunk drunk. you can’t recall anything about kissing girls, you’re not the type to be like that when under the influence. “that’s— i can’t even remember.”

“had fun, didn’t you?” sana looks back into your eyes, making you shrink despite her smaller frame. you feel sorry, you want to apologize for something you can’t even remember—you have no clue why. she’s just your neighbor. she’s the neighbor down the hall that greeted you kindly when you had moved in to town. the same neighbor that you had to blink multiple times at before realizing she’s not a fairytale princess that’s creeped out of the books.

you glance at the door, needing an escape, even though a very large part of you doesn’t want to leave just yet. but standing in her living room in yesterday’s clothes with your head still buzzing is doing nothing for your nerves.

“i should, uh, probably go,” you say, pointing vaguely toward the door.

sana steps back, giving you space, but her expression shifts into something playful as she watches you. “right. but hey—if you ever need a place to crash again, my couch is always open.”

you blink, not sure if she’s joking or if there’s more to that offer. but before you can overthink it, you nod, mumbling a quick, “thanks, i’ll keep that in mind,” before heading for the door.

and just as you’re about to step out, sana calls after you, her voice teasing, warm. “hey, luigi.”

you pause, turning to look at her.

she leans casually against the doorframe, eyes glinting with that same playfulness, and she gives you a slow, once-over before her lips curve into a smirk. “seriously. never knew luigi could be this hot.”

your heart stutters in your chest, and all you can do is laugh, a nervous, breathless sound, before quickly slipping out the door, your mind buzzing as you head back to your place.

sana always caught your eye, but now… now you’re pretty sure you’re never going to stop thinking about her.

—

the whole day you’re quite literally losing your mind. as soon as you crash onto your bed when you get back home, you cringe at how much of an idiot you are, and at the fact that you accepted every single drink handed to you by nayeon.

and then the next day, you’re still replaying the entire morning in your head—how sana’s words lingered, the way her eyes had flickered over you with that teasing smile. it’s been driving you to distraction all day. you couldn’t focus during class, barely heard a word your professor said, and by the time your last lecture ends, you’ve come to a decision.

you’re going to do something about it.

(you’re undeniably an idiot, but everyone in your circle knows that anyway.)

so after class, you stop by the small flower shop near campus. it’s not something you’d typically do—flowers and chocolate, that’s so cliché, right? but somehow it feels like the right move. sana had caught you completely off guard yesterday, and maybe it’s time you do the same.

you have a small conversation with the florist, who recommends her favorite assortment of tulips. you don’t want to do too much, so you settle with yellow tulips, their petals delicate and bright. simple, but thoughtful (you hope).

next, you pick out a small box of chocolates, nothing fancy but enough to show you’ve put some real thought into this. because somehow, leaving things the way they were feels unfinished.

you can’t possibly just leave it like that, you can’t have the only real memory and meaningful interaction between you and sana consist of you flat out drunk and at a loss for words.

you’re already a loser as it is, and especially when sana is around—whether that’s when you two both end up at the mailbox together, with you losing the ability to speak when she simply smiles and compliments you; and also the simple greetings when you two arrive at around the same time on wednesday’s and thursdays (not that you take note of it—you definitely do). 

when you get home, you scribble out a short note on a small card:

hi sana,  

thanks for letting me crash on your couch yesterday. i’m really, really sorry. 

here’s a little something as a thank you. hope you like tulips.

and chocolate.

– luigi 

you read it over twice, fighting the nervous energy bubbling up inside you. it’s playful, casual, but maybe—hopefully—it’ll make her smile. you take the flowers, chocolates, and the note, placing everything neatly in a small brown paper bag before heading down the hall.

when you reach her doorstep, your heart is pounding. you place the bag gently on the ground, adjusting the flowers one last time so they look perfect. then, you take a deep breath and knock, firm but quick, before spinning on your heel and rushing back to your own place.

you barely make it through the door before the nerves fully hit. your heart races, and you lean back against the door, letting out a heavy breath. what if she doesn’t like it? what if it’s too much?

but before your thoughts spiral too far, you hear the faint sound of her door opening down the hall, followed by the quiet shuffle of her picking up the bag.

there’s silence for a bit before you hear the door close again, earning a sigh of relief.

if your friends were to find out literally everything that had happened in the span of less than forty-eight hours, they’d tease you until you had to move out again.

—

the next night, you’re at your desk, buried in the engineering assignment youve been given that same day. something about fluid dynamics, a dense problem set that has you scribbling equations and checking graphs on your laptop. it’s not exactly easy to focus—your mind keeps wandering back to sana, the flowers, the chocolates, and really just everything about her. every time you think about her, a small smile tugs at your lips, despite the headache that’s building from the workload.

then, out of nowhere, you hear a knock at the door.

you blink, glancing at the clock. you’re not expecting anyone, and for a second, you wonder if you imagined it. but when the knock repeats, you push your chair back, setting aside your notes. still a little distracted by the assignment, you take your time getting up, stretching briefly before finally heading to the door.

when you open it, there’s no one there. just silence, the hallway empty. but as you glance down, you spot something on the floor—a folded piece of paper. your heart skips a beat, and you can’t help but grin as you bend down to pick it up, already knowing who it’s from.

you unfold the note, and sana’s handwriting greets you:

so, you’re kinda cute even in that luigi costume—i couldn’t stop thinking about you

(i think you’re cute in uniform and not) 

though i have to ask—what’s with the hickey? did luigi have a little too much fun?  ;)

anyway, i liked the flowers. i liked the chocolates too. 

but i think i like the person giving them more.

you should come over in five minutes if you’re not too shy. i mean, you weren’t that shy the other night ;)  

– sana <3

your face heats up instantly as you read the hickey line, hand instinctively reaching to touch your neck. there’s no way, right? you don’t remember—

then it hits you. fuck. it wasn’t a hickey. nayeon had bullied you about how you ran into something that night at her party, some broom? wall? maybe momo elbowed you? or something. you’re not the type to just fuck random girls, not when you’re loyal to your neighbor that you utter maybe three sentences a week to if you’re lucky. but the thought of what had happened that night isn’t even important because now your mind’s racing, thinking about how sana’s teasing you. you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you all giddy and nervous.

you reread the note, feeling that familiar nervous excitement grow. come over in five minutes if you’re not too shy. your pulse picks up. there’s no way you’re saying no to that.

without bothering to change out of your hoodie and sweats, you grab your keys, locking the door behind you as you head down the hall. your heart’s still racing, and your mind’s swirling with a mix of nerves and anticipation as you stop in front of sana’s door.

when she opens it, she’s standing there with that same playful smirk—sultry, seductive, and somehow so cute at the same time. her eyes gleam like she already knows exactly what’s going through your mind. 

"took you long enough," she says, stepping aside to let you in, her voice warm, teasing. "for a second, i thought you’d be too shy to show up."

you huff a laugh, shaking your head as you walk inside, glancing around her apartment again. “i’m– i’m not.” it sounds unconvincing, but the woman in front of you thinks it’s adorable.

she quirks a brow, then smiles at that, closing the door behind you. "good to know." she says, handing you a small glass of wine and suddenly everything is a little bit too intimate. 

the two of you end up sitting on her couch, the tv still softly playing in the background like it had been the other morning. the conversation flows easily—there’s that natural comfort between you now, even with the teasing tension that lingers under the surface.

she talks about herself and you talk about yourself too, piquing both your interests. small talk grows into something bigger and you two enjoy the newfound information you’re both learning about each other. you’re breaking the ice, maybe easing into the cold waters in comparison to splashing into it.

“so, about that hickey,” she says, leaning back into the couch, her grin widening as she glances pointedly at your neck. her leg crosses over the other and she holds the glass in her hand near her lips, a small smirk tugging at one corner. “i’m just saying, it looks a little suspicious.”

you roll your eyes, your face heating up again. “it’s not a hickey. i swear.”

“uh-huh,” she teases, clearly not letting it go. “sure it’s not.”

“apparently i hit a broom or wall—something like that.” you shake your head, laughing lightly, but there’s an undeniable pull between you two. 

the way she looks at you, the way her smile lingers a little too long, and the way her knee brushes against yours every now and then—you have to hold yourself back from saying and doing a lot of things. it’s in the way her voice lowers when she speaks, soft and reeling.

you spend the next hour just talking, laughing, sharing random stories about classes, her teasing you about your engineering homework, and you teasing her back about her terrible taste in tv shows. every time she smiles or laughs, it feels like a small victory, something you want to keep chasing. and every time you speak her eyes are in deep contact with yours, spiking your heartrate without fail.

eventually, the conversation lulls, and there’s a moment of quiet where she looks at you, her eyes softening just slightly. “you know,” she murmurs, “i’m really glad you came over. this… was nice.”

“yeah,” you say, smiling back, your heart racing in your chest. “it was.”

“i always thought you were really cute,” she says before sipping on her white wine, “but i’m not a chaser.”

“is that right?”

“unless you count me responding to your apology, then yes.”

you laugh, setting the empty glass down. 

“well,” you begin, biting your lip. “i like to pursue.”

“quite forward isn’t it?”

“you invited me over for wine, it doesn’t get more forward than what you’ve brought to the table.”

“is that so?” sana hums, tilting her head. she bites the inside of her lip, looking at you with narrowed eyes. “i think it can get more forward.”

your breath hitches in the slightest and you can tell sana’s noticed when she lets out that signature chuckle. 

“well, i think it’s time to end the night. you were working on assignments prior, no?” you frown at the suggestion.

“i— yeah, you’re right.” 

there’s a knowing smile on her lips, but you ignore it and stand up with her as she walks you to her door. 

“i had a great time pretty girl,” she puts her hand on your forearm while saying it, her touch burning your skin. “hopefully we can be much more forward next time.”

you laugh. “i like the sound of that.”

“mhm, goodnight.” she says, grinning at you before meekly closing her door.

you purse your lips before walking down the hall and reaching your door. your hand lingers on the doorknob before you turn it and head in, feeling a sense of regret.

…

sana hears a knock at her door ten minutes later, turning off the sink and drying her hands before walking over to see what’s up. 

the moment the door opens and sana sees you standing there, the look on her face is priceless.

“what—” she starts, raising an eyebrow, clearly confused, but before she can finish, you step forward, your hand reaching out to grab her forearm gently. you pull her just a little closer, your heart pounding as you look at her.

“i want to be more forward,” you admit, voice low, the question hanging in the space between you.

for a second, she just stares at you, wide-eyed, before a soft laugh escapes her. she gets it now. “oh, we’re moving pretty fast, aren’t we?” she teases, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “take me out to dinner.”

you grin, and she hesitates for a beat, but then she nods, and it’s enough—enough to send your pulse racing, enough for you to lean in. before you can close the distance, though, her hand comes up, fingers lightly brushing the base of your neck, and you feel her shiver as she touches you.

“you say that like,” you pause, observing the surprise and allure in her features. “like you didn’t eye-fuck me the other night.”

her cheeks flush as her fingers linger on your skin, and you catch the way she bites her lip, trying to hide her own smile. you don’t wait any longer.

you lean in and meet her lips with yours, melting into it just as she does. 

it starts soft, just a gentle press of your lips against hers, but it quickly deepens as sana lets out a quiet, surprised sound that turns into something more—something she’s clearly enjoying a little too much. her hand moves to tangle in your hair, pulling you closer, and the way she kisses you back sends a thrill through you.

before you know it, she’s dragging you inside, one hand still tangled in your hair, the other guiding you back toward the couch. the door closes behind you, but you barely notice, too focused on the way her lips move against yours.

when you finally pull back for air, she’s breathless, grinning like she’s just won something. “you should’ve been this forward earlier,” she teases, her thumb brushing against the side of your neck.

“yeah?” you ask, a little breathless yourself, but you can’t stop smiling.

“yeah,” she murmurs, eyes flickering down to your lips before she leans in again, kissing you slower this time, savoring it. sana is a great kisser, the type of kisser that leaves you wanting more and more. after a moment, she pulls back, just enough to whisper, “maybe you should stay a little longer.”

you can’t help but laugh softly. “you sure you can handle that?”

“please,” she says, eyes twinkling with that familiar mischievous look. “you weren’t that shy the other night.”

“well i was drunk and—“

before you can even finish your response, she’s kissing you again, and this time, you’re more than happy to let her pull you even closer.

[minnietrys]

Cherish

◯ Cho Hyun-ju x Fem! Reader

▵ Alternative universe! (Baby youngmi is alive)

□ fluff, some flirting, small mentions of homophobia and transphobia

Other parts- determination more to come

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Warning this is the first time I write fanfic since I was 12 writing on Wattpad… so please let me know how I do! I wanna bring mine and people wanted fanfics to life because they ain’t any for baddie hyunju.

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She was beyond lost, her family, friends, and all her loved ones turned their back on her once she finally started being who she felt like who she should be. Maybe she did something bad in her past life to deserve this. Or maybe she was mentally ill like they said.

All those thoughts keep pounding into her head as she just sits. Sits all alone feeling more alone then she see looks.

“Excuse me ma’am?” Hyunju jumps out of thoughts but multiple keep coming at her at that word ‘ma’am’. It’s like the missing piece finally met the puzzle. It makes her feel better about herself. Makes her feel like she was right about her feelings.

“Um…would you like more coffee?” The waitress asks. Finally Hyunju looks up and finally answers “oh my yes. Sorry I have a lot going through my head I guess I tuned you out. I’m so sorry” she was nervous with the reply. She finally gets a glimpse of the waitress name ‘y/n’ she must say it’s a pretty name for a good looking girl.

“Oh that’s fine! That happens to me a lot!” y/n said with a joyful smile. But hyunju feels safe in that smile. Like all her worries can just disappear.

Wait no she has to snap out of this. She just barely met her for crying out loud. More importantly you haven’t even told her your name she just had wandering eyes. But she would love to know you.

“Um..this may sound totally odd but can I have your number? You just seem like a really nice person that I wanna know.” Hyunju put her big girl pants on and finally shot the answer. Though her palms are so sweaty with the need for your answer.

Most people look at her with disgust and say nasty things to her face. But not you. You have the look of kindness something she hasn’t seen or felt in awhile.

“Oh..s-sure? Sorry I don’t get asked for my number as often” she noticed you nervous movements. Maybe it was a bad idea to ask. Maybe you feel pressured. Maybe she came off as threatening. Maybe you hate who she is. Maybe you—

“Here, please text me or call me. I’m y/n by the way and your name?” Her thoughts were cut off when you gave her a paper from your notepad with your number, name and a heart?!?! A heart! She started feeling flustered, but remembered your question.

“C-cho Hyunju..” she answered very timidly. “Well then by the looking of it your Hyunju unnie, right?”you said hoping to not just have guessed wrong.

But the word keeping racing though her head ‘unnie’ a name she thought someone will never call her but someone did and she hopes she can continue to cherish this moment and that person.

She just nods, but you smile “Well I hope you see that text from you unnie, if not I will not give you any more sugar for your coffee.” Hyunju fakes gasps “So what if I don’t text but I call instead will I still get the sugar?” she try’s to hide the little smirk forming on her face.

“Hmm nope, you will actually have to buy me coffee instead if you call” you say with blush hoping to not come off as pushy. “Well then I suppose I will call because that’s a better deal than just some sugar.”

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Ahh let me know if this was good and maybe if I should make it a series! I will also try different characters and plot lines

[scarletwinterxx]

drowning in the deepest of truths, I think I'm falling for you - choi seungcheol scenario

hellooo ~ so it's been a while... few things to address😅 i saw svt recently and i can confirm i cried hahah and second thing, a certain mr. seungcheol choi bias wrecked me so we're here. say thank u to him🤣

THIS ISTG TOOK ME SO LONG TO WRITE. if you've been here for a long time, i think it's obvious i love a good friends-to-lovers storyline. i wanna give myself a pat on the back for writing this😅hope you like it too!!

for my other svt fics, check them here

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pics not mine, credits to rightful owner)

You’ve been friends with Seungcheol for as long as you can remember. He’s the dependable guy, the one who shows up at your door with takeout when you’re upset, drives you to late-night emergencies, and threatens to "have a word" with anyone who so much as looks at you the wrong way. He’s also the same guy who will call you at 2 AM to complain about Jeonghan stealing his food or Seungkwan roasting his playlist choices.

It’s all very platonic.

At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

But here’s the thing—platonic friends don’t always behave the way Seungcheol does with you.

Like how he always walks closest to the road when you’re together. You thought he did that for everyone until Jeonghan once teased him about being your personal bodyguard. “What, I’m just making sure she’s safe,” he’d grumbled, cheeks faintly red. You’d laughed it off, but now every time he switches sides to keep you away from traffic, your brain unhelpfully replays Jeonghan’s teasing.

Then there’s his car. His precious car. The one you’ve seen him ban people from for spilling a drink or even breathing too close to the upholstery. Yet, somehow, you’re the only one allowed to eat fries in it without getting scolded. “Because you’re neat,” he’d explained once, though you distinctly remember dropping ketchup on the seat that one time. He cleaned it up himself and still handed you another fry.

And don’t even get started on the hand thing. He always has a hand on your back—guiding you through crowds, steadying you when you wobble on uneven ground, or just casually resting it there when you’re walking side by side.

It’s warm, reassuring, and totally not something friends think about when they’re lying in bed at night.

You tried asking him about it once. “You’re very handsy, you know.”

“Would you rather I let you trip and fall?” he’d retorted with a smirk.

“Not what I meant, but okay.”

The problem is, Seungcheol seems completely unaffected by all this. He treats you like you’re just another one of his friends, albeit one he’s particularly protective of. You’ve heard him swear up and down to Jeonghan and Seungkwan that you’re just his friend. Jeonghan, of course, doesn’t believe him.

“Right, because you hold all your ‘friends’ like they’re a national treasure,” Jeonghan had said, earning himself a withering glare.

“Shut up, Jeonghan,” Seungcheol had snapped, but his ears were noticeably pink.

Then there was Seungkwan, who once asked, “Why don’t you just marry her already? Save us all the suspense.”

“We’re friends,” Seungcheol had groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

It’s honestly infuriating. Not because you want him to admit something else (okay, maybe you do, but only a little), but because it leaves you constantly second-guessing everything.

Like when he shows up to your apartment with soup because you mentioned a scratchy throat, or when he lingers outside your building after dropping you off just to make sure you’re inside safely.

Or—your personal favorite—when he softens. That big, tough guy act he puts on with everyone else melts the second he looks at you.

His voice gets gentler, his eyes crinkle when he smiles, and he’s suddenly the kind of guy who brushes hair out of your face without a second thought.

It’s maddening.

And apparently, you’re not the only one who thinks so.

“I don’t get it,” Jeonghan says one day, while you’re all sitting at a café. “Why are you two still dancing around each other? Just confess already.”

You nearly choke on your drink. “What?! There’s nothing to confess!”

“Exactly,” Seungcheol agrees, but his jaw tightens ever so slightly

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow. “Sure. And I’m the president.”

“Jeonghan, drop it,” Seungcheol warns.

“Fine, fine.” Jeonghan smirks but doesn’t look convinced.

By the time you’re walking home together later, the conversation keeps replaying in your head. Seungcheol is quiet beside you, his hands shoved into his pockets.

“You’re awfully quiet,” you say, bumping your shoulder against his.

He glances at you, his expression unreadable. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“...Nothing important.”

You don’t push, but as his hand finds its familiar place on your back when you cross the street, you can’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, Jeonghan was onto something.

You knew it was going to be a long day when your boss handed you that stack of papers at 4 PM. By the time you finally wrapped up, the office was practically empty, the night sky spilling across the windows.

A quick glance at your phone confirmed what you already dreaded—you’d missed the last bus. Groaning, you stuffed your things into your bag, resigning yourself to the long walk home.

It wasn’t that bad. Just… cold, dark, and slightly creepy. You’d be fine.

Totally fine.

But when you pushed through the lobby doors and stepped outside, you stopped dead in your tracks.

There he was.

Choi Seungcheol, leaning casually against his car, arms crossed over his chest like he’d been waiting all night. His head tilted up as soon as he heard the door open, and when he saw you, that familiar, infuriatingly soft smile spread across his face.

“Finally,” he said, pushing off the car. “I thought you were going to sleep in there.”

Your mouth opened and closed a few times before you managed, “What… what are you doing here?”

“Picking you up,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world

“I didn’t ask you to.”

He shrugged. “Didn’t need to.”

You frowned, confused. “How did you even know I was still here?”

“Your light was on when I drove by earlier.”

“You drove by?”

He had the audacity to look sheepish. “I figured you’d miss the bus. And I didn’t want you walking home alone.”

Your heart did an annoying little flip. “I can take care of myself, you know.”

“Sure you can,” he said, completely unfazed. “But humor me, okay? Get in the car.”

You hesitated for a moment, debating whether to argue, but the cold wind nipping at your cheeks made the decision for you. “Fine,” you muttered, walking past him to the passenger door.

“Good choice,” he said, smirking as he opened the door for you.

The car was warm, smelling faintly of his cologne, and as you settled into the seat, you couldn’t help but notice the little things—how he’d adjusted the seat warmer on your side or how there was a blanket folded neatly in the backseat.

He climbed in and started the engine, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “Hungry?”

You blinked. “What?”

“You barely eat when you’re working late,” he said. “We can grab something on the way home.”

You stared at him, baffled. “Do you do this for all your friends?”

He smirked, pulling out of the parking lot. “Do what?”

“Show up unannounced, wait in the cold, and then offer to feed them.”

“Only the ones who miss the last bus.”

Your lips twitched despite yourself. “So just me, then?”

“Just you,” he admitted, glancing at you again with a small smile.

The ride home was quiet, the hum of the engine and the city lights passing by making everything feel oddly intimate. When he finally pulled up in front of your building, you turned to him, suddenly unsure of what to say.

“Thanks for… this,” you said awkwardly, gesturing vaguely.

“Anytime,” he said easily.

As you reached for the door handle, he stopped you. “Hey.”

You turned back, and his expression had softened, the playful smirk replaced with something quieter, more sincere.

“Text me next time, okay? So I don’t have to guess.”

Your chest tightened, and you nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Okay.”

You stepped out of the car, his eyes on you the entire time, and as you walked to your building, you couldn’t help but smile.

He wasn’t just a friend. Not to you, anyway. And maybe, just maybe, you weren’t just a friend to him either.

It was supposed to be a quiet night for Seungcheol. He’d gone out with some friends, had a couple of drinks, and was planning to head home early. But somehow, he ended up back at Jeonghan’s place with Seungkwan sitting cross-legged on the couch, both of them looking far too smug for his liking.

They were up to something. They were always up to something.

“So,” Jeonghan started, drawing out the word like he had all the time in the world, “guess who’s out on a date right now?”

Seungcheol barely glanced up from his phone. “I don’t know. Who?”

“You,” Seungkwan deadpanned, then snorted. “Kidding. It’s her.”

Seungcheol’s fingers froze mid-scroll. “What?”

“You know who,” Jeonghan said, raising an eyebrow.

“She’s on a date,” Seungkwan added, like he was explaining something to a toddler.

Seungcheol’s brain short-circuited for a second. “Wait. What?”

“Why are you so shocked?” Jeonghan leaned back, looking like the cat that got the cream. “She’s a grown woman. She deserves to have a little fun.”

“She’s—she’s on a date?” Seungcheol repeated, his voice louder this time

“Yes, and he’s so handsome,” Seungkwan said dramatically, clasping his hands together like he was narrating a fairytale. “Tall, charming, great hair—”

“Wait a minute. You set her up?” Seungcheol cut in, his voice sharp

“Of course,” Jeonghan said breezily. “You weren’t making a move, so we figured someone else should.”

“I’m not—” Seungcheol started, then stopped, his jaw clenching. “She doesn’t need you meddling in her life.”

“She seemed fine with it,” Jeonghan said, grinning. “Actually, she looked pretty excited.”

That sentence hit Seungcheol like a punch to the gut. You? Excited to go on a date with some random guy? The thought made his chest tighten in a way he didn’t want to think about.

“I don’t get why you care so much,” Seungkwan said, narrowing his eyes. “I mean, she’s just your friend, right?”

Seungcheol’s head snapped toward him, but he didn’t say anything, his jaw working furiously as he tried to come up with a response.

“Right?” Seungkwan pressed, leaning forward.

Jeonghan smirked. “You do seem awfully worked up for someone who’s ‘just a friend.’”

Seungcheol shot him a glare that could’ve melted steel. “She is my friend.”

“Hmm,” Jeonghan hummed, unconvinced. “Then why do you look like you’re about to track down this guy and challenge him to a duel?”

“I’m not—” Seungcheol groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I’m just… concerned.”

“About what?” Seungkwan asked innocently.

“About her,” Seungcheol snapped. “What if he’s some creep? What if he says something to upset her? What if—”

“Oh my God,” Jeonghan interrupted, laughing. “You’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” Seungcheol said through gritted teeth.

“Then why are you gripping the couch like it insulted your ancestors?” Seungkwan asked, gesturing to Seungcheol’s white-knuckled hands.

“I’m just protective,” he argued weakly.

“Right. Protective,” Jeonghan said, rolling his eyes. “Because that totally explains the vein popping out of your forehead right now.”

Seungcheol groaned again, sinking back into the couch. He hated how transparent he was, especially to these two.

“Look,” Jeonghan said, leaning forward, his tone suddenly serious. “If you don’t want her going on dates with other guys, then maybe you should finally admit how you feel.”

“I don’t—”

“Don’t even try it,” Seungkwan cut in, holding up a hand. “We all know. She’s the only person you drop everything for. The only one you talk to with that stupid soft voice. You treat her like she’s your entire world, but you’re too stubborn to say it.”

Seungcheol opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out. Because they were right. They were absolutely, infuriatingly right.

“Okay, fine,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Maybe I feel something. But what if she doesn’t feel the same?”

Jeonghan snorted. “Are you kidding me? She’s just as bad as you. She talks about you all the time, and don’t even get me started on the way she looks at you. You’re both idiots.”

Seungkwan nodded solemnly. “Big, dumb idiots.”

Seungcheol stared at them, his mind racing. Maybe it was time to stop being an idiot.

“Where’s this date happening?” he asked suddenly.

Jeonghan and Seungkwan exchanged a glance, their smirks returning.

“Why?” Jeonghan asked, feigning innocence.

Seungcheol stood, grabbing his jacket. “Because I’m about to fix this.”

“Finally,” Seungkwan muttered, shaking his head.

Jeonghan grinned. “Go get her, tiger.”

And with that, Seungcheol stormed out, determined to set things right—even if it meant crashing your date.

Meanwhile you were having a perfectly peaceful evening. The kind where the air was crisp, the stars were starting to peek out, and the banana milk you’d picked up from the convenience store was hitting just right. Strolling through your neighborhood, you took another long sip, savoring the sweetness.

And then, like something out of a drama, Seungcheol’s sleek black car zipped past you.

You blinked, nearly choking on your drink.

Was that…? No, it couldn’t be. But then the brake lights lit up, and the car slowed before making a sharp U-turn.

You stopped walking, half-expecting someone else to step out of the car. But, of course, it was Seungcheol.

He parked haphazardly by the curb and got out, looking a little disheveled, which was unusual for him. His jacket was slightly askew, and his hair looked like he’d run his hands through it one too many times.

“Hey,” he said, jogging up to you, his voice slightly breathless.

“Uh, hi?” you said, thoroughly confused. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he countered, crossing his arms but not quite meeting your eyes.

“I’m just walking,” you replied, holding up your banana milk as if to prove your innocence. “What about you?”

He hesitated for a second too long. “I was… driving.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Driving? Around here?”

“Yeah,” he said quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was… in the area.”

“In the area?” you repeated, unconvinced.

“Yes,” he said firmly, but his eyes flickered to the drink in your hand, betraying his nerves.

You decided not to press him. Seungcheol acting weird wasn’t exactly new, but something about him tonight seemed different. Like he was on edge. His jaw was tight, his shoulders tense, and he kept shifting from foot to foot like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“You okay?” you asked softly, tilting your head.

He froze, then sighed, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“I’m just… stressed,” he admitted reluctantly.

“Work?” you guessed.

“Something like that,” he muttered, avoiding your gaze.

You frowned, feeling a pang of concern. Without thinking, you held out your banana milk to him, your fingers curling around the straw as you offered it up. “Here. This always makes me feel better.”

He blinked at you, caught completely off guard. “What?”

“Drink it,” you said, blinking up at him innocently. “It’ll help.”

He stared at you for a moment, his expression softening in that way that always made your heart skip a beat. “You’re sharing your banana milk with me?”

“Don’t make it weird,” you mumbled, cheeks warming.

A small smile tugged at his lips as he took the drink from you, his fingers brushing yours. He took a hesitant sip, his eyes never leaving yours, and for a moment, the world felt strangely quiet.

“Not bad,” he said, handing it back to you.

“See? Instant stress relief,” you said lightly, though your chest felt tight for reasons you didn’t want to examine too closely.

He didn’t respond right away, his gaze lingering on you in a way that made you feel uncharacteristically shy. Finally, he reached out, ruffling your hair like he used to do when you were younger. “You’re too good to me, you know that?”

You laughed softly, brushing his hand away. “Someone’s gotta take care of you.”

His smile faltered just slightly, something unspoken passing between you before he cleared his throat and stepped back. “I’ll drive you home.”

“It’s just a short walk—”

“Let me drive you,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You didn’t fight him on it. You weren’t sure why, but Seungcheol’s strange mood tugged at something deep inside you.

As you climbed into his car and he pulled onto the road, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to his stress than he was letting on. And from the way his grip on the steering wheel tightened every time he glanced at you, you had a feeling he was thinking the exact same thing.

A few days later since that night. You're still wondering why Seungcheol was acting weird but you brush it off, thinking maybe he's just stressed because of work.

Now you're somewhere unfamiliar.

You sighed in frustration, staring at the unfamiliar street signs around you.

You were definitely lost.

The errand you thought would take twenty minutes had somehow turned into an hour-long disaster. To make matters worse, your phone signal had cut out just when you’d tried to pull up directions.

After wandering aimlessly for what felt like forever, your phone finally regained some service, and you immediately dialed Jeonghan’s number. He was your go-to for emergencies like this—always on his phone and annoyingly calm in situations where you were about ready to cry.

“Hello?” Jeonghan’s familiar voice answered on the first ring

“Jeonghan!” you practically wailed. “I’m lost.”

“Lost?” he echoed, sounding more amused than concerned. “Where are you?”

“I don’t know,” you groaned, scanning the street for anything remotely familiar. “I think I took a wrong turn somewhere, and then my phone lost signal, and now I have no idea where I am.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, clearly suppressing a laugh. “Relax. Describe your surroundings.”

You rattled off a description of the nearby buildings and street signs, and Jeonghan hummed thoughtfully. “Alright, I think I know where you are. Just stay put, and I’ll send someone to get you.”

“Wait—someone? Who?”

But before he could answer, the line disconnected.

Fifteen minutes later, as you sat on a bench scrolling through your now-working phone, your screen lit up with an incoming call from Seungcheol.

You hesitated for a second before answering. “Hello?”

“What the hell?” was the first thing out of his mouth, his voice a mix of irritation and concern.

“What?” you asked, confused

“Why didn’t you call me?” he demanded

You blinked. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re lost, right? Why didn’t you call me?”

“I—” You paused, feeling slightly guilty. “I figured you’d be busy with work. I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Bother me?” he repeated incredulously. “You think calling me when you’re lost is a bother?”

“I mean… kind of?” you said hesitantly. “You’re always so busy, and I didn’t want to distract you.”

There was a brief pause, and when he spoke again, his tone was softer, almost hurt. “You’re never a bother, you know that, right?”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling small. “I didn’t want to interrupt anything important.”

“You’re important,” he shot back without missing a beat.

Your heart did a funny little flip at his words, but you tried to shake it off. “Jeonghan said he’d send someone to get me,” you mumbled.

“Yeah, and that someone is me,” Seungcheol said, his voice firm. “I’m on my way.”

“Oh,” was all you managed to say.

“Stay where you are. I’ll be there in ten minutes,” he said, and then the line went dead.

True to his word, Seungcheol’s car pulled up exactly ten minutes later. He got out and strode toward you, his expression a mixture of exasperation and relief.

“You okay?” he asked, his eyes scanning you for any signs of distress.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said sheepishly. “Sorry for making you come all the way out here.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said firmly. “Just… next time, call me first, okay? No matter what. I don’t care how busy I am.”

You nodded, feeling warmth spread through your chest at his words. “Okay. I will.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair before reaching out to flick your forehead gently. “Idiot,” he muttered, but there was no heat in his voice. “You scared me.”

You smiled up at him, clutching your phone tightly. “Thanks for coming to get me.”

He shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Always.”

And with that, he opened the car door for you, muttering something about making sure you had a proper map app installed while you slid into the passenger seat, feeling safer than you’d felt all day.

The car was quiet save for the low hum of the engine as Seungcheol drove. You sat in the passenger seat, sneaking glances at him every now and then. His brows were slightly furrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line. You could tell he was still annoyed—though more at himself than at you—but the silence was starting to get to you.

“Are you really mad?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper

He didn’t answer right away, keeping his eyes fixed on the road. You shifted in your seat, feeling a small pang of guilt.

“Cheol?” you tried again, a little louder this time

Finally, he glanced at you, just for a second, and that’s when he saw it—the faint pout on your lips, your eyes wide and filled with worry.

Whatever lingering annoyance he felt melted away instantly.

How could he ever stay mad at you?

He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat.

In that fleeting moment, something clicked. He’d always known he cared about you, but this was different.

This was deeper.

The way his chest ached at the thought of you being lost, the way he couldn’t focus on anything else until he knew you were safe—it all made sense now.

He was in deep. Really, truly in deep.

But he kept that realization buried, locking it away for now. Because what if you didn’t feel the same? What if he ruined what you already had?

So instead of saying what was really on his mind, he shook his head and let out a small sigh. “No, I’m not mad,” he said softly, his voice losing all the sharpness from earlier.

“Really?” you asked, your pout disappearing as a hopeful smile crept onto your face.

He glanced at you again, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “Really. Just… call me next time, okay? No matter what.”

“Okay,” you said quickly, nodding.

“Good,” he said, turning his attention back to the road. But the corner of his mouth quirked up, betraying his amusement at how eager you were to ease his worries.

And as you settled back into your seat, sipping the banana milk you’d insisted on bringing with you, Seungcheol kept driving, silently grappling with the fact that you had him wrapped around your finger—and you didn’t even know it.

It’s not something you consciously think about, but Seungcheol is the first person you instinctively search for in every situation.

Whether it’s at a gathering, in a crowded room, or even during simple moments like deciding where to sit, your eyes always find him first. And it’s always easy to spot him—because, without fail, he leaves a space open beside him, like he’s silently saving it just for you.

He never says anything about it, but you’ve come to notice how it’s always you in the passenger seat of his car, you who gets the last fry from his plate, and you who he lets get away with things no one else can.

One day, after an especially long week at work, you found yourself riding home with him again. The car was quiet, save for the soft hum of the radio, and you couldn’t help but let your mind wander.

“Cheol,” you said, breaking the silence.

“Hmm?” he responded, glancing at you briefly before returning his attention to the road.

“Do you think…” You hesitated, biting your lip. “Do you think I’m taking advantage of you being such a good friend?”

He frowned slightly, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. “What?”

“I mean…” You trailed off, unsure how to explain yourself. “You do so much for me. I feel like I’m always leaning on you, and maybe—”

“Stop,” he interrupted, pulling the car to a gentle stop at a red light. He turned to look at you, his expression soft but serious. “You’re not taking advantage of me.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he reached over, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear in that way that always made your breath catch.

“I wouldn’t do any of it if I didn’t want to,” he said firmly, his voice low and steady. Then, with a small smile, he added, “Take advantage of me all you want.”

You blinked at him, startled by the sincerity in his tone. For a moment, it felt like the world outside the car had faded away, leaving only the two of you in your little bubble.

There was something in the way he said it, something in his gaze that made your chest tighten. Like he wasn’t just saying you could rely on him, but something deeper—something more.

But you didn’t push it, didn’t ask him to elaborate.

Instead, you smiled softly, feeling your cheeks warm. “Thanks, Cheol.”

He nodded, turning back to the road as the light turned green, but his fingers tapped lightly against the steering wheel, as if he was trying to shake off whatever had just passed between you.

And though neither of you said it out loud, his words lingered in the air between you, unspoken but clear.

Take advantage of me all you want.

It sounded an awful lot like he was saying, I’m yours.

The music was loud, the kind that vibrated through your chest and made regular conversation impossible.

You were at yet another one of Seungkwan’s chaotic gatherings, where everyone was laughing, shouting, and dancing all at once. You were trying to tell Seungcheol something, but no matter how loud you spoke, your voice barely reached him over the noise.

Finally, with a little huff of frustration, you stepped closer to him. So close that you had to tilt your head up to meet his gaze. He raised an eyebrow at you, amused but curious, as if to ask, What’s up?

Without thinking, you stood on your tiptoes, your hand lightly gripping his arm for balance. Leaning in, you brought your lips close to his ear and whispered the words you’d been trying to say.

His reaction was immediate. You felt his hands gently rest on your waist, steadying you like it was second nature. His touch was warm, firm, and grounding in the chaos of the room.

“What?” he asked, turning his head slightly so his lips were near your ear now, his voice low enough that it sent a shiver down your spine.

You repeated yourself, barely able to focus with how close the two of you were. You could feel the heat radiating from him, smell the faint, familiar scent of his cologne.

When you pulled back just enough to look at him, you caught the small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Without breaking eye contact, he slid one of his hands down from your waist and took your hand in his.

Your breath hitched when his fingers laced with yours, his grip firm but gentle, like he wasn’t planning to let go anytime soon. His thumb brushed lightly over your knuckles, and he gave your hand a little squeeze, as if to silently say, I hear you now.

The moment stretched between you, the noise of the room fading into the background as you stared up at him. His eyes were warm, his smile soft, and for a second, you felt like the two of you were the only ones in the room.

“Better?” he asked, his voice just loud enough for you to hear.

You nodded, your cheeks warm as you managed a small smile. “Better.”

He didn’t let go of your hand for the rest of the night.

As the night wore on, you and Seungcheol gravitated toward each other like magnets. Even in the chaos of the party, you never strayed far, and he made no effort to hide how closely he kept you by his side.

At one point, you found yourself standing in front of him, tucked neatly into the protective circle of his arms. His broad frame loomed behind you, shielding your much smaller figure from the crowd. It was a natural thing, the way his arms rested lightly around your waist, his hands occasionally brushing against your sides.

You weren’t sure when you had become so glued to each other, but you didn’t mind. You felt safe there, cocooned in his warmth, the noise of the party fading into the background as you leaned into his steady presence.

Seungcheol leaned down slightly, his chin nearly brushing the top of your head as he murmured, “You okay?”

You turned your head slightly to glance back at him, your eyes meeting his. “Yeah, I’m good.”

His lips quirked into a soft smile, and he gave your waist a gentle squeeze, as if to reassure himself. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“I think I’m fine as long as I stay right here,” you replied without thinking, and you felt his chest rumble with quiet laughter behind you.

“Yeah?” he teased, his voice low and warm. “You planning to stick to me all night?”

You shrugged, your cheeks warming. “Maybe.”

His laugh softened, and you felt his arms tighten around you ever so slightly. “Good,” he said, his voice quieter this time, almost like he hadn’t meant for you to hear it.

From the other side of the room, Seungkwan and Jeonghan stood together, sipping their drinks and watching the scene unfold like it was a live drama.

Jeonghan leaned casually against the wall, a smirk dancing on his lips as his eyes flicked between you and Seungcheol. “You seeing this?” he murmured, just loud enough for Seungkwan to hear over the noise.

“Oh, I’m seeing it,” Seungkwan replied, trying his best to keep a straight face but failing miserably. His grin threatened to split his face in two as he watched Seungcheol pull you closer, his arms tightening protectively around you.

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow. “Should we—”

“Don’t even think about it,” Seungkwan interrupted, though he looked like he was barely holding himself back. “You saw the look he gave us earlier. He’ll kill us if we say anything.”

Just then, Seungcheol’s eyes flicked toward them, sharp and warning. It was a look that screamed, Don’t. You. Dare.

Jeonghan, of course, couldn’t resist a bit of mischief. He raised his glass in a mock toast, tilting his head slightly as if to say, Oh, we’ll see about that.

Seungcheol’s glare darkened, and he subtly mouthed, Don’t.

Seungkwan elbowed Jeonghan, barely stifling his laughter. “You’re gonna get us both killed.”

“Oh, come on,” Jeonghan whispered back, smirking. “It’s too good not to say something. Look at them. She’s practically in his arms, and he’s acting like she’s the only person in the room.”

“I know, but...” Seungkwan hesitated, glancing back at Seungcheol, who had now fully turned his body to shield you from the crowd. “He’s terrifying when it comes to her.”

“Exactly,” Jeonghan said, his smirk widening. “Which makes this even more fun.”

Before either of them could act on their instincts, Seungcheol shot them another glare—this one so intense that even Jeonghan momentarily reconsidered his life choices.

Seungkwan cleared his throat, straightening up. “Yeah, nope. Not worth it. I like being alive.”

Jeonghan chuckled, but even he backed off, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. We’ll let him have his moment. For now.”

But as they watched you and Seungcheol disappear into the night, Jeonghan leaned over to Seungkwan with a glint in his eye. “We’re never letting him live this down, though.”

“Oh, absolutely not,” Seungkwan agreed, grinning. “We’re just waiting for the right moment to strike.”

And with that, the two of them shared a conspiratorial laugh, already plotting how they’d tease Seungcheol later—if they lived to tell the tale.

The quiet of the car was a stark contrast to the laughter and energy of the night. It was just the two of you now, the hum of the engine and the soft rush of air outside the windows filling the space between your thoughts.

Seungcheol’s eyes were on the road, his focus steady, but there was something different in the air tonight. It felt like the perfect moment to finally ask the question that had been lingering on your mind.

"Cheol?" you said softly, breaking the comfortable silence.

"Mhm?" he replied, glancing at you briefly before returning his gaze to the road.

You hesitated for a moment, the weight of your thoughts making your chest tighten just a little. "We're not just friends, are we?" you asked, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

You had been wondering for a while now, but it felt like the right time to ask.

Seungcheol didn’t immediately respond. The car continued on its path, the sound of the engine filling the space. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm, but there was a quiet, almost amused undertone to it.

"Whatever you want me to be, I'll be that," he said simply, his eyes still on the road, but there was something in his tone that made your heart skip a beat.

You blinked, processing his words. "What does that mean?" you asked, voice quieter now, trying to decipher his meaning.

"It means," he began, "if you want me to be more than a friend, then that’s what I’ll be. If you want me to be something else, I’ll be that too."

You felt your chest tighten, the air between you both thick with unspoken things.

The rest of the ride passed in comfortable silence, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that things had shifted, that the line between just friends and something more was now more blurred than ever before.

"Thanks for the ride," you said softly, unable to hold back a small smile.

Seungcheol smiled back, his gaze lingering on you for just a moment longer. "Anytime,".

The boys had decided it was time for a beach day—a full day of sun, sand, and chaos. Naturally, Seungcheol insisted you join, claiming it wouldn’t be the same without you. So here you were, walking down the sandy shore with a tote bag slung over your shoulder while the boys argued over the best spot to set up.

Jeonghan, of course, found the shadiest area and claimed it before anyone could argue, while Seungkwan bickered about who had to blow up the inflatable. Meanwhile, Seungcheol carried your beach chair and umbrella, glancing over his shoulder to make sure you were keeping up.

When everything was set up, you kicked off your sandals and ran toward the water, the cool waves splashing against your feet. The boys stayed back for a while, caught up in their own antics, until Jeonghan called out to Seungcheol.

“Hey, big guy! You’re really just going to let her wander off alone?”

Seungcheol rolled his eyes but still got up, his protective instincts kicking in almost immediately. He strolled down the beach after you, arms crossed casually over his chest, his broad shoulders drawing attention from passersby.

You were completely oblivious, laughing as you dipped your toes into the waves. That is, until a couple of guys sidled up to you, grinning and trying to make small talk.

“Hey, you here alone?” one of them asked, his tone far too confident for his own good.

“No,” you replied politely but firmly, already taking a step back.

“Come on, just a little chat—”

“Is there a problem here?”

That voice. Low, firm, and unmistakably Seungcheol’s.

The guys froze, their smiles faltering as they turned to see him standing there. His towering frame, sharp jawline, and intense gaze were enough to make them instantly reconsider their life choices.

“N-no, man, we were just—”

“Leaving,” Seungcheol finished for them, his tone leaving no room for argument.

They didn’t need to be told twice, muttering apologies as they shuffled away.

You turned to Seungcheol, your eyebrows raised. “That wasn’t necessary. I could’ve handled it.”

“I know you could’ve,” he said, his tone softening as he looked at you. “But why should you have to?”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at your lips. “My knight in shining board shorts.”

Seungcheol chuckled, nudging your shoulder gently. “Someone’s gotta keep you out of trouble.”

The two of you made your way back to the group, where Jeonghan and Seungkwan were snickering.

“Cheol scared off some beach bros, didn’t he?” Jeonghan guessed, smirking.

“Didn’t even have to try,” Seungkwan added. “He just exists, and they run for their lives.”

Seungcheol ignored them, guiding you to your chair and handing you a bottle of water. “Drink up,” he said, his hand brushing against yours briefly.

You didn’t miss the way his touch lingered or the way his gaze softened when he looked at you. And while the boys continued to tease him relentlessly, he just sat back with a satisfied smirk, his protective streak in full swing.

By the end of the day, no one even thought about approaching you again—not when Seungcheol made it very clear, without saying a word, that you weren’t alone.

The sun was beginning its slow descent, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. The beach was quieter now, the once-loud waves now lapping gently at the shore. Seungcheol crouched down in front of you, his back turned as he gestured for you to hop on.

“Come on, before the sun sets,” he said, glancing over his shoulder with a small grin.

“Why do I have to be the one on your back?” you teased, but you didn’t hesitate to climb on, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as his hands secured your legs.

“Because I’d crush you if it were the other way around,” he shot back, standing effortlessly with you in tow.

He started walking along the shoreline, the sand soft beneath his feet. You leaned your cheek against his, your fingers lightly tapping against his chest as you spoke.

“Did you know that sea otters hold hands while they sleep so they don’t drift apart?”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. It’s called a raft. Isn’t that cute?”

“Almost as cute as you randomly spitting out facts,” he said with a chuckle, glancing sideways at you.

You ignored him, continuing your stream of trivia. “Oh! And dolphins have names for each other. Like, they have a specific whistle for every dolphin in their pod.”

“Do they have a whistle for their favorite dolphin?” he asked, his voice teasing.

“Obviously,” you said, squishing your cheek harder against his. “If I were a dolphin, you’d have a whistle just for me.”

“I already do,” he murmured, his words so soft that you almost didn’t catch them over the sound of the waves.

You paused for a moment, the warm breeze brushing past the two of you. Then, out of nowhere, you whispered, “I love you.”

Seungcheol froze mid-step, his breath hitching just enough for you to notice. Slowly, he turned his head to look at you, his cheek brushing against yours.

“I was hoping I’d say it first,” he said with a soft laugh, his dimples deepening as he smiled at you.

Your heart swelled at the sight, and you couldn’t help but grin back. “Guess you’re too slow, Cheol.”

“Guess so,” he replied, his voice warm and steady. Then, without putting you down, he turned to face the sunset.

“Say it again,” he said after a moment, his tone teasing but with a hint of something deeper beneath it.

“I love you,” you said, softer this time, your lips brushing against his ear as you spoke.

He let out a content sigh, his hands tightening slightly on your legs as if grounding himself in the moment.

“I love you too,” he finally said, his voice carrying all the tenderness he’d been holding back for so long.

And as the sun dipped below the horizon, you stayed there, clinging to each other, both knowing you had everything you could ever need right in that moment.

[m4rv3l-girl]

Vanilla

Bucky x Y/N

Bucky overhears Y/N talking to Nat about her unfulfilled desires…

Requests Open!

Warnings: Smut. Fingering. Oral (f!receiving). P in v sex. Slight Sir kink. All after the red division —————-

The soft afternoon set in around the compound, casting warm shadows in the living room where you and Bucky often spent lazy afternoons together.

Today, however, he was out training with Steve, and you found solace in the quiet as you prepared a small snack in the kitchen. You were humming softly to yourself, the sound of your movements blending with the faint echoes of clanking weights coming from outside.

Just as you were about to pour yourself a cup of tea, Natasha entered, her hair pulled back in a tight bun, a knowing smile on her lips. “Hey, Y/N!” she called out, crossing the room with a confident stride.

“Hey, Nat!” you replied, your heart lifting at her presence. “Want some tea?”

“Sure!” she said, leaning against the counter, her gaze curious.

“So, how’s it going with Bucky..?”

You felt a slight blush rise to your cheeks, a smile breaking across your face. This was your favorite question - because life with Bucky was just incredible. “It’s great! I mean, he’s just... he’s amazing.” The warmth of your feelings was palpable, and you couldn’t help but beam as you spoke about him.

Natasha chuckled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I can tell you’re smitten. What’s he been up to?”

“Oh, you know, just the usual. Training, trying to get better at the whole ‘normal life’ thing. He’s been really sweet lately.”

You absentmindedly stirred your tea, remembering the little things he did—like the way he always made sure you had your favorite snacks or how he would leave little notes around the house.

“Sweet, huh?” Natasha teased. “What about in the other department?”

You paused, biting your lip. Nat was never bashful.

The question made your heart race. “Well, it’s great, it is... but I guess I have some... unfulfilled desires,” you admitted shyly, your voice dropping as you glanced away.

Natasha raised an eyebrow, leaning in as if she were about to divulge a juicy secret. “Like what?”

You hesitated, a nervous flutter in your stomach. “You know, maybe trying something a little less... vanilla.” The words slipped out, and you felt a wave of embarrassment wash over you.

Natasha smirked, leaning closer with a conspiratorial tone. “No, I get it. You want to spice things up a little?”

“Yeah, that’s it. I just think we could do something more…”

“Kinky?” She stated.

You felt the itch of blood rushing to your face.

“I understand that, it took me and Bruce a while to get into the swing of something more interesting. He was always scared he’d break me. Think that Bucky’s problem?”

Before you could reply, a heavy footfall sounded from the hallway, and the door swung open. Bucky stepped into the room, glancing between the two of you.

“What’s going on in here?” he asked, his brow furrowing slightly, the playfulness in his voice tinged with curiosity.

You quickly straightened up, forcing a smile. “Oh, we were just talking about... nothing much!”

Bucky looked from you to Natasha, his instincts picking up on the slight tension in the air. “Right. Well, I’ll just go grab a drink.” He turned, his expression unreadable as he walked away.

Natasha’s gaze lingered on you for a moment, her teasing smile replaced by something softer. “You should talk to him, you know. Communication is key,” she said gently before leaving you alone in the kitchen.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of what you had just shared hanging in the air. What would he say if you brought it up? Would he be upset? You hoped he wouldn’t take it the wrong way. He was perfect in so many ways, but you longed for a deeper connection, a chance to explore more together.

——————————————————————————————————

Later on, you and Bucky were sitting together on the couch, watching something neither of you were watching.

“Everything okay?” you asked one evening as you curled up next to him on the couch, your fingers tracing patterns on his arm.

He looked down at you, a slight frown crossing his face.

“Yeah, of course, sweetheart,” he replied, but the hesitation in his voice made you worry.

“Are you sure? You seem a little... off.” You shifted, trying to catch his gaze, but he looked away, focusing on the television instead.

“I’m just... thinking about stuff,” he said, his tone evasive.

You wanted to press him further, to ask about that day with Natasha, but something held you back. Instead, you settled for resting your head on his shoulder, hoping he would open up when he was ready.

——————————————————————————————————

As the days passed, Bucky started to show subtle signs of change.

He began cooking more elaborate meals, experimenting with spices and flavors, making an effort to make each dinner an occasion. You found yourself laughing and teasing him about his newfound culinary skills, and it felt like old times when the air was light and carefree.

One night, after a particularly delightful dinner, you found yourself sitting on the counter, your legs swinging as Bucky cleaned up the dishes. You watched him with admiration, noticing the way his muscles flexed as he scrubbed the plates, lost in thought.

“Want some help?” you offered, swinging your legs over the edge.

“Nope, I got this, darling,” he replied, flashing you a smile that made your heart skip. “Just enjoy your time, Kitten.”

But as he continued washing the dishes, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was still bothering him. “You’ve been acting a little different lately,” you ventured, trying to keep your tone light.

He paused, glancing over his shoulder at you. “Different how?”

You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “I don’t know. Just... more serious, I guess. Is everything okay?”

Bucky set down the dish he was cleaning and turned to face you fully, the light reflecting in his blue eyes. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Just... trying to think about what you said the other day.”

Your heart raced at his words, hope mingling with anxiety. “What do you mean?”

He stepped closer, the space between you charged with unspoken words. “About wanting more than just the usual, you know?”You swallowed hard, feeling your cheeks heat.

“Bucky, I didn’t mean to—”He interrupted, his expression softening.

“No, it’s okay. I’ve been thinking about it a lot. And I want to make sure you’re happy, that you feel fulfilled.”

A wave of warmth washed over you, but your nerves fluttered. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with, Bucky. I just—”

“No, I want to,” he said firmly, stepping closer until your legs brushed against his. “I just didn’t know if that was something you really wanted.”

Your heart pounded as you looked into his eyes, the sincerity of his words warming you from the inside out. “I do. I just want to explore... things together.”

Bucky took a deep breath, his gaze intense. “Then let’s do it. I want to make it special for you.”

The promise in his voice sent butterflies dancing in your stomach, a mix of excitement and nerves flooding your senses. “Okay,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. “I’d love that.”

Bucky's hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb gently stroking your skin. The tenderness of the gesture made your breath catch. 

"Tell me what you want," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "I want to hear you say it."

You felt a rush of heat flood your body at his words. Your tongue darted out to wet your suddenly dry lips. "I... I want you to take control," you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. "To push my boundaries a little."

His eyes darkened at your confession, pupils dilating with desire. "Are you sure?" he asked, his tone serious despite the obvious want in his gaze.

You nodded, feeling both nervous and exhilarated. "Yes. I trust you, Bucky."

A slow smile spread across his face, equal parts tender and wicked. "Alright, doll. Let's start slow." His metal hand slid around your waist, pulling you flush against him. "First rule - you do exactly as I say. Understood?"

A shiver ran down your spine at the commanding tone in his voice. "Yes," you breathed.

"Yes, what?" he prompted, eyebrow raised.

You swallowed hard, realizing what he wanted. "Yes... sir."

Bucky's eyes flashed with approval. "Good girl," he purred, the praise sending a jolt of pleasure through you. "Now, I want you to keep your hands at your sides. Don't move them unless I tell you to."

You nodded, heart racing as he slowly began unbuttoning your shirt. His fingers brushed against your skin with each movement, leaving trails of fire in their wake. When he reached the last button, he pushed the fabric open, exposing

your lace-covered breasts to his hungry gaze. Your nipples hardened instantly under his scrutiny, straining against the delicate fabric.

"Beautiful," Bucky murmured, his flesh hand skimming along your collarbone. "I've always loved this bra on you."

You fought the urge to arch into his touch, remembering his command to keep still. The effort it took sent a thrill through you.

"Thank you, sir," you whispered, your voice breathy with desire.

Bucky's eyes met yours, a mix of lust and tenderness in their blue depths. "You're doing so well already, doll. Now, I want you to close your eyes."

You obeyed instantly, darkness enveloping you as your other senses heightened. You could hear Bucky's steady breathing, feel the heat radiating from his body so close

to yours. The anticipation was almost unbearable as you waited for his next move.

Suddenly, you felt the cool metal of his left hand tracing along your jawline, down your neck, across your collarbone. The contrast between the chill of the vibranium and the warmth of your flushed skin made you gasp softly.

"Shh," Bucky murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "Remember, no moving unless I say so and be quiet, Kitten"

You bit your lip, fighting to stay still as his metal fingers danced along the edge of your bra, teasing but not quite touching where you desperately wanted him to.

His flesh hand came up to cup your other breast, kneading gently through the lace. A whimper escaped your throat at the dual sensations.

"That's it, doll," Bucky praised, his voice rough with desire. "You're doing so well for me."

His metal thumb brushed over your nipple through the thin fabric, causing it to harden instantly. You arched your back slightly, craving more contact, but Bucky tsked softly.

"What did I say about moving?" he reminded you, withdrawing his hands. The loss of his touch was agonizing.

"I'm sorry," you breathed. "Please, Sir. I need you."

He chuckled low in his throat. "I know you do, sweetheart. And you'll have me. But only when I decide you're ready."

His flesh hand slid down your stomach, fingers playing with the waistband of your panties. Your thighs trembled with the effort of keeping still as he teased you mercilessly.

"Tell me what you want," Bucky commanded, his voice husky.

Your breath caught in your throat as you struggled to form coherent thoughts. Bucky's touch was electrifying, sending sparks of pleasure coursing through your body.

"I... I want you to touch me," you managed to whisper, your voice trembling with need. "Everywhere."

Bucky's eyes darkened with desire as he slowly slid your panties down your legs, leaving you completely exposed to his hungry gaze. His metal hand trailed up your inner thigh, the cool touch making you shiver with anticipation.

"Like this?" he asked, his fingers ghosting over your most sensitive areas, barely making contact.

You whimpered, fighting the urge to buck your hips. "More, please," you begged.

Bucky leaned down, his hot breath fanning across your skin as he placed open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone.

Bucky leaned down, his hot breath fanning across your skin as he placed open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone. His metal hand continued its teasing exploration between your thighs, while his flesh hand cupped your breast, thumb circling your nipple.

"Tell me exactly what you want me to do," he murmured against your skin. "I want to hear you say it."

Your cheeks flushed with a mix of arousal and shyness, but you forced yourself to vocalize your desires. "I want... I want your fingers in me," you breathed. "And your mouth here..."

A low growl rumbled in Bucky's chest as he obliged, sliding two cool metal fingers into your slick heat while his lips closed around your nipple. You gasped at the dual sensations, your back arching involuntarily.

Bucky's metal fingers curled inside you, finding that spot that made you see stars.

His tongue swirled around your nipple as he sucked gently, sending hard rushes of pleasure through your body. You moaned, struggling to keep still as he'd commanded.

"That's it, doll," he murmured against your breast. "Let me hear how good it feels."

His thumb found your clit, circling it with just the right pressure. You cried out, your hands fisting in the sheets as you fought the urge to grind against his hand.

"Sir, please," you whimpered. "I need more."

He lifted his head, his blue eyes dark with desire as they met yours. "What do you need, sweetheart? Tell me."

You swallowed hard, gathering your courage. "I want... I want your mouth on me. Down here."

Bucky's eyes flashed with hunger at your words. "Is that so?" he murmured, trailing kisses down your stomach. "I think I can arrange that."

He settled between your thighs, his warm breath teasing your sensitive flesh. You trembled in anticipation as he placed soft kisses along your inner thighs, purposefully avoiding where you needed him most.

"Bucky," you whined, desperate for his touch.

He chuckled, the vibration sending shivers through you. "Patience, doll. I'm going to take my time with you."

Finally, his tongue flattened against your core, licking a long, slow stripe.

You gasped, your hips bucking involuntarily.

Bucky's metal arm draped over your pelvis, holding you in place as he continued his ministrations. His tongue circled your clit before sucking, your hips bucking involuntarily. Bucky's metal arm draped across your lower abdomen, holding you in place as he explored you with his mouth. His talented tongue swirled around your clit before dipping lower, tasting your arousal.

You moaned loudly, forgetting his earlier command for silence in your pleasure.

Bucky paused, lifting his head to look at you with a mix of amusement and stern reproach in his eyes. "What did I say about staying quiet, doll?" he murmured, his breath hot against your sensitive flesh.

You bit your lip, breathing heavily. "I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice trembling with need. "Please don't stop."

He smirked, trailing his flesh hand up your inner thigh. "I suppose I can forgive you this time," he said, his voice low and husky. "But you'll have to work harder to stay silent."

Without warning, he plunged another 2 fingers inside you, curling them expertly as his mouth returned to your clit. The sparks of euphoria were overwhelming, and you had to clamp a hand over your mouth to stifle your cries of pleasure. Bucky worked you relentlessly, his fingers pumping in and out while his tongue flicked and swirled. You writhed beneath him, desperate for release yet fighting to stay quiet. Your free hand tangled in his hair, urging him closer.

He growled against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. You could feel the pressure building, your thighs trembling as you neared the edge. Bucky sensed your impending climax and redoubled his efforts, curling his fingers to hit that perfect spot inside you while sucking hard on your clit.

Your body tensed as waves of ecstasy crashed over you.

You bit down hard on your lip, tasting blood as you fought to remain silent. Your back arched off the bed as your orgasm ripped through you, vision going white at the edges. Bucky didn't let up, working you through every aftershock until you were a quivering, oversensitive mess beneath him.

Finally, he lifted his head, a self-satisfied smirk on his face as he took in your flushed cheeks and heaving chest. He crawled up your body, pressing a searing kiss to your lips. You could taste yourself on his tongue as he explored your mouth.

"Good girl," he murmured against your lips. "You did so well staying quiet for me."

His erection pressed insistently against your thigh, reminding you that he was far from finished with you. Bucky trailed kisses along your jaw and down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. His metal hand cupped your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple and drawing a soft gasp from your lips.

"Think you can stay quiet for what comes next, doll?" he murmured against your collarbone, his voice rough with desire.

You nodded eagerly, beyond words as anticipation coursed through you. Bucky chuckled darkly, positioning himself between your thighs. He rubbed the tip of his cock along your folds, teasing you mercilessly. Your hips bucked, seeking more contact, but his hands gripped your waist firmly.

"Ah ah," he tsked. "Patience, remember?"

You whimpered softly, desperate for him to fill you.

Bucky's eyes locked with yours, dark with lust, as he slowly pushed inside. Your breath caught in your throat as he stretched you, the delicious burn of his thick length making your toes curl. He paused when fully sheathed, giving you a moment to adjust.

"So tight for me, doll," he groaned, his jaw clenched with the effort of holding still.

You clenched around him experimentally, drawing a sharp hiss from his lips. Taking that as his cue, Bucky began to move. He started with slow, deep thrusts that had you seeing stars. Your hands roamed his broad back, feeling the muscles flex beneath your fingertips as he drove into you.

Gradually, his pace increased. The room filled with the sound of skin on skin and your muffled whimpers.

Bucky's pace increased, driving into you with powerful strokes. The old couch creaked beneath you as he pounded relentlessly, hitting that perfect spot deep inside with each thrust. You buried your face in his neck, muffling your cries of pleasure against his skin.

His metal hand gripped your hip, the cool plates a stark contrast to your feverish skin. The other tangled in your hair, tugging your head back to expose your throat. Bucky's lips latched onto your pulse point, sucking and biting as he marked you as his.

"Say you’re mine," he growled, his voice rough with exertion and desire. "Say it."

"Yours," you gasped out, teetering on the edge of orgasm. "I'm yours, Bucky."

He groaned at your words, his hips snapping faster. "That's right, Kitten. All mine…Fuck-" Bucky growled, his thrusts becoming more erratic. "Come for me again. Let me feel you."

His words pushed you over the edge. Your back arched as waves of pleasure crashed over you, the corners of your vision going white as your second orgasm came faster than the first had. You bit down on Bucky's shoulder, your walls clenching around him.

Bucky groaned at the sensation, his hips stuttering as he chased his own release. With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, spilling himself with a low moan of your name.

You both lay there for a moment, breathing heavily as you came down from your highs. Bucky's weight pressed you into the arm of the couch, his face buried in your neck as he placed soft kisses along your collarbone.

“Still too vanilla, Princess?” He muttered.

“I…”

“Maybe next time I’ll get the rope out.” Bucky deadpanned.

——————————————————————————————————-

So, what do you think? Should Bucky get the rope out? 🤔

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni, childhood bestfriends to lovers, tlou'verse, jackson era, mild hurt/comfort

word count: 4.9k

summary: When your boyfriend is desperate to win back what he lost, he bets on you this time without your knowledge. And everyone knows you don't go back on your word when it comes to Joel Miller.

warnings: okay so technically not cheating because your boyfriend literally gambled you buuut if that's not your thing I totally get it, piv, dirty talk, choking, spitting, size kink, soft!joel & feral!joel, he likes hearing how big he is, affectionate whore calling™, a hint of analplay, oral (receiving and giving)

a/n: another joel fic inspired by p.orn, we love to see it

a special thank you to @nothoughtsjustmeds for the beta! 💕

Joel was never that into gambling. 

Back before everything had gone to shit, that had always been more Tommy’s forte than his own. Joel doesn’t remember the amount of times he’d had to bail his brother out, either by protecting him while putting himself in the middle or by giving him loans he’d never ever see again. Joel hadn’t minded. Tommy was his baby brother after all. As long as he was safe Joel was happy—annoyed, for sure, but happy. 

He was surprised when he learned that Jackson had a pretty heavy gambling scene and that Tommy wasn’t a part of it. He didn’t know why that was, because even on the nights where he had to go bail him out and bring him home all bloodied and bruised, Tommy just made the same mistakes. Not even Sarah’s worried expression, while she peered from between the wooden stair railing, deterred him from it. 

Guess it was different when your own kid was on the way. 

However, despite his lack of interest in gambling, he found himself betting away what little he had for someone else—someone he thought he would never see again. But honestly, he wasn’t half bad at it so he didn’t mind it that much. His only complaint was when he had to get messy hunting down those who didn’t pay up. 

One by one the men around the table folded, only leaving Joel and Liam. A huge stack of weaponry lies in the middle of the table, Liam’s eyes constantly flit between the stack and Joel. They stare at each other long and hard. Joel knows that he’s going to win. He usually did with these face-offs. 

Liam folds. 

A small smile tugs at the corner of Joel’s lips. There’s nothing better than to take what someone he absolutely detests wants. 

“Let’s go again,” Liam grunts, his forehead shining with sweat. 

Joel raises an eyebrow, “You don’t have anythin’ else to bet on.” 

“Come on now, Miller,” Liam leans back into his chair. “There must be something that you want.” 

Joel’s eyes bore into his long enough for the man to grow uncomfortable and nervous. Only then did he speak. 

“You still have that pretty girlfriend?” 

Someone Joel didn’t bother learning the name of pipes up from his right, “I thought we were only betting huntin’ supplies this time.” 

“Come on, let the man try to win his rifle back.” Joel grins. 

“Fuck you, Miller.” 

“Careful now,” he slowly places his elbows on the old table, his weight on it enough to let out a threatening creak. He cocks his head to the side, his smile small but still there. “My kindness wears thin.” 

Liam’s an addict. And of course, he says yes. 

“You fucking gambled me away?!” your voice is shaking, body trembling all over as you pace back and forth in front of the couch Liam was nestled on top of. At least he has the decency to look guilty. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Liam? I’m your girlfriend, not some kind of deer hide you can put on the table.” 

“Look I said I was sorry alright?” He stands up fast enough to make you flinch. He holds you by the shoulders, thumbs moving in a soothing manner. “Won’t happen again, I promise.” 

You scoff, “We both know that’s a lie.” You lift your chin up in defiance. “I won’t do it. I have free will. You can’t make me.” 

That makes Liam sweat. You can’t blame him, you’ve heard of Joel’s. . . outbursts. But honestly, that’s the least of your worries. You’re mostly confused as to why Joel asked for you specifically. You’re positive that he’d been avoiding you ever since he came into Jackson, only talking to you a handful of times. Why now? And why like this?

“Baby,” Liam whines, snapping you away from your thoughts. “You have to. He’s crazy, he’ll kill me.” 

“You should’ve thought of that before.” 

“Please. All you’d have to do is entertain him for the night, make him happy.” 

“So to be his plaything? Is that what you want?” 

“Maybe he’ll ask you to cook him dinner, hell if I know.” 

“Sure,” you roll your eyes. “I’m sure he’ll just want something to eat.” 

You give him one more look before slipping away from his gentle hold. Your heartbeat is slow, hours spreading across every beat, making your chest feel heavy and lightheaded.

“Fine,” you cave, wrapping yourself with your shaking arms. “But after this, I’m done, Liam. I’m so tired of bailing you out.” 

“You can’t leave, where would you go?” 

The soft tone he used while begging you to spread your legs for Joel quickly turns into a tone with sharp, dagger-like edges. You don’t say anything. Don’t answer him or agree with him. You’re lost in a broken world. 

And now, amongst all the things you’ve been through, you have to see the pity in your childhood best friend’s eyes. 

You don’t want to be here. You don’t. It’s embarrassing. 

Your boyfriend is in the other room, brooding on his couch, examining his life choices. You’re not doing any better. Your robe loose over your shoulders, the chill of the bedroom settling over your skin. It’s especially embarrassing because it’s Joel for crying out loud. You’ve known each other since you were kids causing mischief all around the neighborhood. You still remember the time you fell and scraped your knee, how he kissed it better and placed a pink bandaid over it because it was your favorite color. 

Why the hell had he asked for you? To humiliate you? Well, he definitely succeeded. 

The door opens and you jolt. His presence is large in the room, making you shudder despite yourself. Your pulse quickens. You shouldn’t be afraid of him yet here you are, trembling like a newborn doe. He closes the door with a gentle click, the wood creaking and solidifying your fate. 

You haven’t known him for years. Even before the outbreak had torn the world apart. You had moved away two years prior and after everything went down you never expected to see him again. When he showed up in Jackson you barely recognized him. He looked rugged, more salt than pepper in his beard, his eyes drained of life. He had scars that ran deep and he had found a kid along the way. You were surprised but relieved to see he still had a big heart. 

You were ashamed the first time you two sat down after years. Everyone knew of Liam’s gambling problem, he couldn’t help it, and you knew that Joel knew. You hated the idea of him pitying you, of him seeing the world weighing down on you. You’ve heard from around that Joel also started to place bets. Nothing too big though, unlike your boyfriend who would bet on almost anything in the house. You knew those bets could turn out violent and people feared Joel. Even in a safe utopia like Jackson, the kind of man he’d become traveled from ear to ear, striking fear. And when someone that owed him money ended up with a bloody nose and broken jaw. . . no one dared to deny him of anything. 

And it seemed like you were no exception. 

Joel stands in front of you, his sleeves pulled up to his elbows, exposing sinewy muscle. He stands close. Close enough that you feel his breath on your lips. Your eyelids flutter before you avert them, tears stinging the corners. 

You drop the robe, the old fabric pooling at your ankles. You’re left in a decent enough-looking bra and somewhat matching underwear. 

“Not interested,” Your entire body goes taut, eyes wide. You hear the blood rush in your ears. Joel moves past you and takes a seat on the bed, crossing his arms over the expanse of his broad chest. You stare at him and a thick knot forms in your throat. He gives you a brief look before explaining. “I only wanted to teach your boyfriend a lesson. He’s reckless. One of these days he’s gonna be in real debt to me and, darlin’, I don’t want you gettin’ caught in the middle.” 

Your heart drops. You don’t know what you’ve been expecting but it certainly isn’t this. Tears blurring your vision, you quickly bend over and scoop up your robe, throwing it over your shoulders. Somewhere along memory lane, you forgot to remind yourself that Joel was your first; first crush, first love, first kiss, first time. But it just hadn’t worked out. You had stayed close friends until you moved away, he had Sarah, you had a promising career. You were planning on getting back to him. It just never came to be. Liam didn’t know you knew Joel, only Tommy knew about the connection you two had, mainly because he was there. 

And now you had Liam—Boyfriend who calls you names because he hates everything, Liam. Shitty boyfriend, Liam. Boyfriend who put you up as a prize, Liam. 

It’s just too much. All of it. Your heart can’t handle how unfair it all is. The pity Joel shows you, the way Liam treats you. He loves you, you know that much, but he just doesn’t care enough to treat you right or tend to you when he’s so broken himself. He doesn’t understand that you would take care of him just as much. 

And now you’re just a shell. A shell of your former self. 

The first salty tear slips from your lashes, it’s followed by another and then another. 

You manage to reach the end of the bed on shaky legs, collapsing, you cover your face, heaving silently into your palms. You don’t want Liam to hear you cry, deep down you want him to think Joel is fucking you this very instant. You want him to feel guilt, or at least a sliver of the way you feel. 

There’s a gentle hand on your shoulder. Your brain doesn’t even register that Joel is pulling you into his chest, wrapping solid arms around your shaking frame. He holds the back of your neck, squeezing tenderly just like he did when your mom yelled at you and he wanted to calm you down. 

“Why are you cryin’?” he mumbles. “I told you I’m not gonna do anythin’ to you. Or to him. I just wanted him to think before he put you in any danger. What if it wasn’t me there? Not everyone is as they seem in this town.” 

After all this time Joel Miller is still looking out for you. 

“It’s not that,” you answer, between sniffled and muffled hiccups. “I’m embarrassed and so fucking tired. I don’t want you thinking I’m some damsel in distress, even though me crying isn’t really helping,” you take a deep breath and peel yourself unwillingly from his chest. “I don’t feel good about myself. I never do with him. I just feel like shit with some more shit thrown over. And well. . . now I know that you don’t want me either. It’s just too much. But I’ll be okay, thank you for looking out after me even though I’m a mess.” 

He suddenly grips your chin and pulls you close enough that your noses almost touch, “What the hell makes you think that I don’t want you?” 

“You. . .” with a sigh, you look away. “You didn’t want to fuck me.” 

“You want me to fuck you, sweetheart?”

Squeezing your chin, he forces your gaze back to him. His lips are parted, pupils wide enough to hide the chocolate brown of his eyes. He seems just as surprised as you feel. Arousal pools between your legs, heat dripping down the curve of your spine. You press your thighs together and swallow. 

Joel’s hand moves up to your cheek and cups it gently, thumb toying with the corner of your lip, “I just never thought you’d be interested if I’m bein’ honest. Especially not after. . . everything I’ve done.” 

“You’ve done what you’ve had to do to survive,” you kiss the curve of his palm and he shifts, coming even closer. “I always wanted to come back to you, you know? You’re my first love, Joel Miller. Deep down I always wanted you to be the last.” 

Joel was never an emotional guy. He always had trouble expressing what he thought and felt, thinking he always had to hide behind large invisible walls. The outbreak had put a magnifying glass over that quality of his. You can only tell that your words affected him by how the crease between his brows softens and his cheeks gain a subtle red hue. 

He only grunts as he forcefully brings your hand to his crotch, his cock hard and throbbing under your palm. His lips skim down your neck, kissing where your pulse beats frantically. Joel grinds into your palm, “You still want to fuck with your boyfriend waiting in the living room?” 

“God, yes.” 

You stand up and he parts his legs for you, allowing you to take your rightful place between them. Looking up, his fingers dance up your shoulders, pushing off the robe so it once again pools at your feet. The fabric of your bra has worn away with time, meaning that your nipples meet no resistance as they stiffen under his gaze. Joel licks his lips and brings both thumbs to the peaks, rubbing them until they’re fully hard. 

Then he suddenly shoves you closer to him, your aching nipple met with his wanting mouth. He sucks through the fabric. Saliva darkens the color. He sucks and moans each individual nipple until both are hard like diamonds and only then do you find yourself on the bed, his mouth still on you, starving for more. Your back forms the perfect arch, the sheets feeling like silk against your skin despite them being years old—almost rotten.

He drags his lips down your body, rough facial hair tickling your skin, your hips helplessly stutters into the air. Two large hands pin your hips down. You can’t help the noises that tumble from your lips. For the first time, you’re feeling whole. He lays soft kisses against your inner thighs and finally, he reaches where you want him most. 

Joel sucks your clit through the fabric and your body jerks, seeking the heat of his mouth against your bare cunt instead. He smiles, digging his blunt nails into your flesh. 

“Patience,” he licks a stripe down your clothed folds. “I want you to be loud, sweetheart. Make noise for me. If you want me to fuck you, that’s my price—your sounds.” 

Liam never liked the sounds you made. Unless you were mimicking porn and whispering how close you were, which was a very rare occasion. 

Joel slides his hands up to the softness of your stomach, squeezing gently. Like you might fade away at any given second. He kisses the lips of your pussy and his eyes flutter closed. 

“Doesn’t it feel good,” he begins, his southern drawl more prominent as his voice grows deeper. “To have that prick in the next room listenin’ to me fuck you, riddled with guilt because he bet on his pretty girlfriend?” 

It does feel good. “You think I’m pretty?” 

“‘Course I do,” his brows furrow, eyes finding yours. “Prettiest girl I’ve known since the first day my dick got hard.” 

The words send a tingle up your spine but Joel doesn’t allow you to linger on them for long. He slides your underwear to the side. The fabric sticky with slick, he immediately presses his lips deep into your cunt, tongue swirling around your entrance and teasing it by pushing in the tip. You cry out and grip his head, your legs pressing against his ears. Your heart hammers within the confinements of your ribcage. 

“Gonna ruin you,” he groans, licking himself deeper and rutting the bed. Your eyes roll back, your body melting with every fat stroke of his tongue. 

Joel takes you apart slowly. His jaw moves, head lazily going from left to right. You feel so wet, soaked, from both his mouth and your slick. It’s almost like he goes slower the more soaked you are. He draws various shapes around your throbbing clit. You're left withering under him, shaking, begging, and moaning his name loud enough that the entirety of Jackson could probably hear. The wet smack of his mouth is followed by loud slurps and groans, and your stomach coils tight. 

After all these years, Joel Miller had certainly learned a few new tricks. He wasn’t that same teenager anymore, though, neither were you. He feels different, yet he also feels the same. Like a familiar wind stroking your skin. 

“So damn wet and sweet like honey, fuck.” 

He moves away and you nearly cry out of frustration, fingers burrowing into the old sheets. You only move when you hear the deafening sound of a belt buckle coming loose. Joel’s pants drop to his ankles, cock painfully hard and slightly curving to the side. Your mouth waters, “No underwear?” 

“Got too lazy to wash’em last Sunday,” he lazily strokes himself. Today is Tuesday. He’s been going commando all this time. More saliva fills your mouth, you don’t know why but the thought excites you and he seems to notice. “You always did get turned on by the weirdest things,” he mutters. “Now get on your knees, sweetheart. Been waitin’ a long time to feel those lips again.” 

You pout, ���Forearms are sexy, ask anyone.”

Joel sighs and shakes his head, his dark gaze makes you clench around nothing. He ignores your comment entirely.  “Don’t make me say it again.” 

You sink to your knees immediately after that. 

He’s so much thicker than you remember. The bulbous head a beautiful shade of red, shiny beads of precome gathered at the slit. You notice the vein meandering down the underside of his cock and you trace it with the tip of your tongue. The blood pumps harder in response, his length twitches and smears the shiny pearls against your cheek. 

You moan as you finally take him between your lips. The corners of your mouth sting from how wide you need to open to accommodate him. You manage to take him half way in, swirling your tongue, you hollow out your cheeks. 

“That’s it—That’s it, fuck—suck me harder, sweetheart, please—” his hips rock forward, his cock filling your mouth until the head is hitting the back of your throat. You choke on him and his head falls at the way your throat constricts around the width of him. He then pulls out, prompting you to look up. His hair is a mess, lips swollen and parted. “Use your spit, need you to wet my cock good if you want me to fit darlin’. I ain’t that teenager anymore.” 

You kiss the soft crease between his balls, rolling them with your tongue. You’re delighted to witness how he shudders at the soft caress of your lips, “I can see that.” 

“Get on with it then.” 

Joel sounds almost annoyed—no, not annoyed, but eager, desperate—to have your mouth wrapped around him with Liam in the other room. You don’t want to make him wait so you slowly allow a thin line of saliva to drip from between your lips. His thighs tense when it touches the head of his cock. 

“Is his dick as big as mine?” he asks, jaw locked, words bouncing off of clenched teeth. 

“No,” you gasp, dragging your lips down the length of him while staring at him through heavy lashes. “No, it’s not as big as yours.”

Suddenly you’re lifted to your feet, your body nothing but a ragdoll as he pushes you to the bed, the old mattress creaking with protest at the added weight.  

“Play with that fuckin’ pussy for me, I want to see it.” He wraps a hand around his weeping cock, his strokes hard and calculated. Your breasts tingle as you push a hand between your thighs, he clicks his tongue in disapproval, approaching the end of the bed. “Spread your legs wide, honey.” 

As soon as you open your legs and spread your folds for him to see how soaked you are, he’s quick to climb up the bed. Turning you to your side, he gets right behind you. Joel wets his own fingers, sucking on them with a loud groan before replacing yours with his own. He rubs your clit with precise movements, each stroke hitting the mark and making you see bright, dazzling stars. Your body moves on its own. Heat pools between your legs, your hips grinding back to feel the heft of him on your ass. 

“Joel, please,” you whimper. “Please, fuck me, please—” 

His lips touch your cheek and he breathes heavily, his chest heaving and rattling with every exhale. You feel the head of his cock slowly sinking into you, stretching you wide as his lips decorate your sweaty skin with fleeting kisses. 

“You’re takin’ me so fuckin’ well, honey,” your eyes roll back, a mild pain blossoming from where you two connect. He brushes his fingers over your clit, the sharp pleasure shortening your breath. “That’s it. That’s my girl takin’ my big cock so well. So good. So good for me.” 

Your jaw drops as you take him inch by inch. He continuously plays with your clit, kissing you and whispering words of praise while his tongue plays with your earlobe. You feel like mush. Like dough that only he can mold. Your lashes grow wet with tears, your heart beating so wild that you swear he can hear it as well. Joel slightly pulls back his hips and pushes back in, your breath catches in your throat, and soon enough he begins fucking you with shallow thrusts. 

“Is this what you wanted, huh?” he mutters into your ear. You nod helplessly, your body burning from the inside out. “Tell me, louder, come on,” a smack echoes in the small room, and pain blossoms over your ass cheek. “Come on, louder.” 

“Yes!” you cry out. In a weak attempt to meet his thrusts, you roll your hips. “Yes, this is what I wanted. I’ve never stopped thinking about it—never stopped thinking about you.” 

“Is this pussy mine?” 

“Yes, it’s fucking yours.” 

Your voice must’ve come out too much like a whisper because Joel’s pace quickens. He fucks you hard, deep, hammering into you until you’re struggling for air. He wraps thick fingers around your neck, squeezing until there’s pressure building under your eyes, your lungs burning. 

He loosens his grip around your throat, “I wanna hear it, come on now, don’t make me beg for it. Tell me, is it mine?” 

“Yours! It’s fucking yours!” 

Suddenly Joel is underneath you and you’re on top, his hips relentless as he snaps his hips up into you. It feels even better now. The way his cock massages your walls shooting crackles of electricity up your spine. He holds your ass with both hands and spreads you for his liking. 

You moan his name and when you look down, seeing him staring at your face, a sudden gush of embarrassment overwhelms you and with a small whimper, you cover his eyes with both your hands. Joel grits his teeth at that. He fucks you harder, the vicious way he presses inside making you gasp and drop your hands so you can brace yourself by flattening your palms over his chest. His eyes flash with anger. 

“Why the fuck—” he growls, “would you cover my eyes?” 

“I–I got embarrassed—” you squeeze your eyes shut and open them back again. You push down your hips, taking him to the hilt as a form of apology, but he doesn’t seem to accept it and holds you still. Your head falls back with his every thrust. 

“If you ever pull that stunt again, I’ll take you over my knee,” he rasps, ignoring the way your pussy clenches at his words. 

His finger teases your asshole and beads of sweat gather at your tailbone. Joel’s grin is dangerous, something you’d run away from rather than run towards. But you can’t help it. A wanton moan rattles your throat, your pussy clenching hard around his cock. He presses forward, burying his finger down to the first knuckle. You shudder over and over, your body building tension and releasing it simultaneously. 

“You like that, wildflower?” he groans, thrusting his finger in and out while snapping his hips up. “You enjoy it when I play with your tight little asshole?” 

“Fuck, fuck—Joel—yes, yes I do.” 

His other hand snakes around the back of your neck and yanks you down. His damp lips touch your ear, “Gonna fuck this hole one day, pretty thing. . . gonna fuck it so hard you’re not gonna be able to stand for weeks.” 

Before you can catch your breath, you’re being hauled towards the closed door, the emptiness you feel sudden and cold. He pulls your hips up, presses your cheek against the barely standing wood. Your hard nipples graze against the surface, a jolt of pleasure shooting up your spine. Again, Joel thrusts forward, filling you to the brim. The mild pain tingles within your lower abdomen and you melt against him, eyes rolling back as you wiggle your ass for him. 

With every rock of his hips, your body hits the door with a thud and you’re sure Liam can hear every forceful fuck, “Tell him how fuckin’ bigger I am than him—I wanna fuckin’ hear, it come on.” 

“He’s so much bigger than you!” you groan, bracing your palm against the door. “You hear me, Liam? Never had a bigger cock in my life, I’m soaked.” 

Liam’s muffled voice follows through, “Jesus fucking Christ, what the hell is wrong with you? You fucking whore!” 

You know it shouldn’t, but his words still jar you. 

“I’ll fuckin’ break his hands for that, don’t you worry darlin’,” Joel mutters into your skin, his words marking you as something untouchable. “And I’ll make it fuckin’ hurt.” He then kisses your shoulder and shouts towards the door, slamming especially hard this time so the thud of you hitting the door echoes. “You’re the one who gambled her like some kind of prize you dickhead. Don’t blame her for feelin’ good about it!” 

“You could never satisfy me,” you say barely above a whisper, like you’re not entirely sure you’re allowed to feel good about this. About finally having him all to yourself. 

“That’s it, tell him,” Joel growls, pushing his cock even deeper. You swear that if you looked down at your stomach, you’d see a bulge, as impossible as that sounds. “Tell him.” 

You desperately grab at Joel’s forearms, feeling the sinewy muscle tense. Your slick drips down his length and wets the inside of your thighs. With a loud moan you repeat your words and it feels delightful. 

You only smile when you hear the outer door close shut. Liam is gone. 

“Yes yes yes,” Joel murmurs into your neck, ramming into you harder. “That’s it, come on my cock, sweetheart, please—I wanna feel it—” 

Your breath catches in your throat, body seizing, “B—Bed,” you manage to choke out. 

If he pulled out, you’re not aware. His body is a constant presence against your back, lips always latched on to a patch of skin, tasting the salt. Joel lays you down gently and pushes your legs high enough that it grazes your forehead with every desperate snap of his hips. 

“Is this what you want?” he groans, the wet noises of him fucking into the tight fist of your cunt bouncing off the walls. 

“Yes, Joel— this is what I want.” 

“My whore,” he leans over and grinds into you. He slips his tongue into your mouth, sucks on your tongue. The back of your thighs ache with protest but you whimper into the kiss anyway. Breaking the kiss, Joel breathes into you, “My good sweet little whore,” and another kiss. 

Your eyes roll back, “So deep,” you groan, breaking the kiss. 

“Deeper deeper deeper,” Joel mocks you by mimicking your dazed tone with his drawl. He slowly pushes in, holding himself there, he halts your breath. “How’s that, wildflower? Deep enough for you?” 

“Oh god, Joel—” you choke. You fist the sheets, your cunt fluttering and throbbing. He doesn’t move, he flexes his cock and the pressure of that is enough to break you. 

Joel wasn’t expecting it, this much your muddled brain is able to realize from the shocked groan he lets out. His lips find purchase on your forehead, kissing and mumbling praise as your entire body clenches and releases, your pussy gushing around him. You feel the trickles of fresh wetness ripping out of you and all you can do is take it when Joel resumes his thrusts, fucking you through your messy orgasm. 

Despite your insistent begging of wanting him to come inside, Joel pulls out, coming undone instantly as he does so. He rubs himself over your mound, thick ropes of come spurting across your stomach and even the underside of your right breast. He releases your legs and they fall limply to his sides. 

Joel kisses you long and deep, his weight comforting above your trembling body. When he finally pulls away, he lets out a low chuckle and brushes your noses together. 

“I think he left, sweetheart.” 

“Good,” you mumble and press a quick kiss to his flushed lips. “All I want is you.” 

Liam’s not your boyfriend anymore. 

[luminni]

Some of you guys wanted a more in depth look into this post of mine so I expanded upon it and I shall deliver! but this can be read on it's own ofc.

Enjoyyyyy <3

Simon woke up with a start, even in the low lighting he could tell he was in an unfamiliar room and a small stirring next to him alerted him to the fact he was close to an unfamiliar presence as well. No, not unfamiliar, but not familiar enough for his heart not to jump slightly at noticing you. Your hand grabbed a fist-full of his shirt and you were seemingly trying to pull yourself impossibly closer to his presence. His startled heart began to melt, and in the calm your resting face brought him he began to remember how exactly he got here.

////

“M’ tellin ya mate yer going tae like ‘er,” Johnny teased, bounding a couple steps in front of Simon, turning back to him and rocking back and forth on his heels, hands shoved into his pockets to protect them from the cold. As Price often quipped, the scott couldn’t stand still for the life of him.

“Mhm,” Simon just grumbled in response.

“See mate, That’s the attitude that scares all the girls away.” Johnny commented, hands outstretched and exaggerated.

“Whatever.” Simon huffed, rolling his eyes. Johnny wasn’t wrong, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d done anything with a girl that wasn’t a quick lay, even then it had been months, not to mention going out on a proper date. Well, a date was a stretch, you were Johnny’s roommate and close friend for a couple years. He had heard of you, but never met you and now Johnny was insisting that he go on a date with you because he was convinced it was going to work well, Simon wasn’t convinced in the slightest.

“She’s real nice though- so put away the tough guy act big man- girls don’t like that.” Simon couldn’t believe he was getting dating advice from his sergeant, so he just doubled down and kept scowling but Johnny kept pressing. “I'm telling you she's a real sweet girl, kinda lass who would try tae make a crying baby laugh on the tube or go and feed some mangy stray dog, perfect for a prickly bastard like yerself.”

“Okay okay, Jesus ’s not like ’m going to scare ‘er off on purpose.” Simon relented 

“You better not, getting laid might do you some good man, calm yer ass down a wee bit” Johnny chuckled

Simon would have yelled at him for that comment but his friend cut him off, “‘Kay we’re ‘ere,” Johnny chirped, “Gaz and his girl should be inside already and she’ll be ‘ere soon,” Johnny said, pushing his Leftenant through the pub door.

Johnny had invited Kyle and his girlfriend for a kind of double date situation because he thought having another girl there would help you feel more comfortable, something Simon couldn’t argue with. Why Johnny’s single ass would be attending was a mystery.

The pub was warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the damp cold of the London streets. Simon quickly located Kyle and his girlfriend -whom he had met once before a couple months back- he couldn’t say he wasn’t jealous. Having someone sweet to come home to was a lingering thought that kept him awake most nights. A fleeting hope that persisted despite his best attempts at squandering it. Taking his coat off and quietly greeting the others, it would be a lie to say he wasn’t nervous, terribly so. His hands felt shaky, his stomach twisted in knots, Simon liked situations he could be in control of and this wasn’t one of them. He had no control over whether you would like him or not, over whether you would have a good time, and it terrified him. Johnny had talked you up and made you sound perfect, a fact he didn’t doubt but what if you didn’t “click”, what if the sergeant was wrong. Simon was so nervous he could have passed out right then and there, but little did he know Johnny had been playing both sides.

////

“Ya like serious guys right?” Your roommate had asked you out of the blue, a week or so prior.

“Uh yeah sure? I mean I guess so, more than immature assholes like you.” You had joked back across the small kitchen.

“Well,” He had began, unphased by your teasing, “There’s this guy I work with-”

“Don’t even.” you cut him off

“What?!” he whined

“Don’t try and set me up with one of your military bros,” you warned, “I’m not interested.”

“Just because your last dates have been busts doesnae mean you shouldn't keep tryin’,” He pleaded, catching the sponge you threw at him, “He’s a real good guy, kinda intimidating but you’d like him, promise!”

You glared at him before going back and forth, Johnny was really trying to sell this guy, and he wasn’t wrong, your last three dates had been nothing short of disasters. Selfish bastards that only talked about themselves and wanted to fuck and nothing else. So, after lots of pleading -and a couple tasteful photos from them at the gym- you agreed.

So as you walked closer and closer to the pub, your nerves were buzzing. Just gotta get past his tough exterior is all, Johnny’s words of advice rang through your head. Thankfully your roommate had invited another one of his friends there along with his girlfriend, you would have been hyperventilating if it was just going to be you and some guys. As you reached for the door, you could only hope Johnny was right about this guy.

////

“There she is!” Johnny called out, snapping Simon from his thoughts. He looked to the direct he had sauntered off in to find you. Removing the thick scarf from around your neck, and rolling your eyes at your friend’s shenanigans.

‘Shit shit shit’ Simon began to spiral, biting down harshly on his lip. You were pretty, like really pretty, trying to warm your cold cheeks up with the back of your hand. You looked like the kind of girl a guy would dream about and have to spend a moment getting over after the morning alarm rang. Simon knew he wasn’t unattractive by any means, but it was too damn easy to get self conscious around someone like you.

Noticing his anxiety, Kyle gave him a harsh pat on the shoulder, “Just act natural mate, you’ll be fine.” Easier said than done

You approached the table and it was as if all the pub lights had suddenly focused on you, either that or you were admitting this kind of angelic light from your person.

“Right then,” Johnny began gesturing around the hightop table, “That’s Kyle and his girl,” they smiled and waved, you did the same back, “an’ tha’s the man ‘imself, Simon Riley.”

You took the seat next to him and held your hand out to him, “It’s nice to finally meet you Simon.” You beamed, looking him up and down. He took your hand and he couldn’t help but notice how much smaller it was, how it fit so softly into his. He couldn’t even begin to process the way you had said his name, almost like a little whisper in the buzz of the pub, just the sound made him dizzy.

“Likewise,” He responded, though it was little more than a whisper, “‘eard plenty about you from Johnny.” He continued, accent low and thick. He could’ve kicked himself, even the most normal sentences sounded strange when he said them in front of you. You cast a side eye to your roommate, raising an eyebrow.

“Only the good things hen!” Johnny defended himself, hands in the air. Simon was in love already.

////

Intimidating was the understatement of the century, this guy was absolutely terrifying. He had to be at least 6’4”, probably over 200 pounds of pure muscle, topped off with the most soul piercing brown eyes you’d ever looked at. But there was something more behind all of that, those eyes betrayed just the smallest amount of vulnerability, and with how softly he took your hand in his, maybe Johnny was right. 

Thankfully the conversation flowed easily, having Kyle and his girlfriend there helped and Simon was surprisingly easy to talk to. He didn’t say too much, but he always made it so clear he was listening to every word you said, hanging on every syllable. Nodding along and encouraging you to continue. When he did talk, his voice was low, grumbly and deep but somehow soft at the same time, like he was trying to approach some frightened wild animal. Not to mention the way you couldn’t stop your heart from pounding when he leaned down to hear you better, your height difference on full display even when you were both seated. 

As the night went on, conversation shifted from being the entire table, to you and Simon going back and forth between each other. Bodies angled towards each other, he had taken his mask completely off by the time the food arrived and you couldn’t deny he was handsome, in a rugged and charming way. When the conversation began to naturally sizzle out you pointed to his arm,

“Tell me about your tattoo?” you asked innocently. Kyle and Johnny held their breaths, their leftenant didn’t open up about stuff like that, got defensive when anybody asked about it. To their surprise and relief, a smile tugged at his lips and he began to gently explain to you the parts of his sleeve, leaving out the more traumatic parts.

“Bruv,” Kyle whispered, leaning into Johnny, “This is like- actually working out.”

“Just had to work some of that MacTavish magic mate.” Johnny grinned, elbowing his friend

“Please never say shit like that again.”

Even when Simon began to feel comfortable enough to start cracking some jokes and Johnny thought his chances were done right then and there, you buckled over and laughed, hitting at his bicep. Not noticing how his eyes shone with pride when he was the one making you laugh.

“I’m going up to get another drink, anybody need a refill?” You asked, nodding as people put in their requests. Simon watched you leave as you weaved your way through the crowd, his eyes never leaving your figure- the curve of your waist more specifically.

“Don’t just stare at her mate, go on ‘an follow ‘er ya big sap” Johnny teased, all but shoving his friend from his stool.

“Fuckin’ workin’ on it,” Simon growled, “Impatient bastard.” He downed the rest of his drink and made his way to where you were perched on the edge of the bar.

“Oh hey!��� you beamed, “Did ya want something?” All of your attention immediately on him, Simon felt a surge of pride at seeing the dashed hopes of some stragglers who had obviously had an eye on you when you came up to put your order in.

“Jus’ gettin’ another whiskey is all.” He murmured. He watched as you put the orders in, including his, feeling a strange tightening in his chest when you had to lean in close to the bartender so he could hear your order. Smiling when your face screwed up after asking for a sip of his whiskey, eyes shining when you hummed along to the song blaring from the pub speakers. He realized he was going to have to lock this down immediately. 

“Would you-?”

“Hey um,” You unknowingly cut him off, “Would you want to keep talking somewhere quieter?” your eyes didn’t leave you fidgeting fingers, “Like I mean, the apartment is just a couple blocks that way.” you smiled, gesturing in the general direction. 

Simon would have jumped for joy if his pride had allowed him, instead he stuttered a response, “Yeah that sounds good, -I mean I’d like...that”

“O-okay, yeah okay,” you nodded, relief washing over your face, grabbing the drinks and asking him to follow. He downed the second glass of whiskey so fast he feared he might have drowned in it. You set the glasses on the table and began to grab your coat.

“Ya leavin’ already lass?” Johnny questioned, sounding a bit defeated, until he noticed Simon shoving his beanie onto his head with all the grace of a newborn giraffe. “Ohhhhh,” He smirked, wiggling his eyebrows, “You’re leaving.”

You threw him an exasperated look, “Did you remember your keys?”

“Ya know I never do” He winked

You smirked and rolled your eyes, tossing him your extra pair and adjusting your scarf.

“Now ye behave!” Johnny called after the two of you, “I run a right tight ship in tha' gaf an-” He stopped when Kyle threw and hand over his mouth and provided a sweet “Be safe on your way”

Simon gave him a curt nod and led you out of the pub with a steady hand on your lower back.

///

The brisk wind hit you the moment Simon opened the door for you into the outside world. A quick shiver passing through you as you let your arms wrap themselves around your body. Your ears began to burn and you cursed yourself for not bringing a hat. You only got one teeth chattering block before Simon noticed your bright red ears, with an amused sigh, he tugged off his beanie and ruffled his short, blonde locks. Without warning, the hat was then shoved onto your head, pulled snuggly over your ears. You whipped around to face him, big doe eyes shining up at him.

“Don’t mention it.” is all he said, before taking the lead and walking in front of you, thank god it was cold enough to blame his red cheeks on the harsh wind. 

You led him though the dark streets, your and Johnny’s shared apartment was only a 10 minute walk from the pub. 10 minutes that were filled with countless questions from you, questions that had felt too awkward to ask in the loud and crowded pub. Favorite color? Favorite song? Favorite food? Favorite animal? What kind of movies did he like? Did he like warm or cold weather? Simon couldn’t remember the last time someone wanted to know this much about him, people on base always seemed to want to get to know Ghost. To try and humanize the intimidating persona he took on when at work, they didn’t want to put in the work to know, to understand the humanity he already possessed. But here you were, asking him questions like your life depended on it. Not in some feeble attempt to make him less scary, but because you were genuinely curious about the person that he was. He felt strangely at peace around you, uncomfortably comfortable, or maybe it was just the fact you made him feel human.

You stopped him at the front of your building with a tug on his sleeve. He let you lead him inside, shuffle into the tiny European elevator that made him look comically large, and hold the door open for you as you slipped into the apartment. It was very clearly a place inhabited by Johnny, the xbox controllers on the coffee table, the 4 empty protein shake bottles in the sink, the ratty sneakers Gaz had begged him to throw away still by the door, and a sleeveless workout hoodie throw haphazardly over the back of the couch. That you scurried to pick up, not expecting company,

“Sorry, he just leaves his shit everywhere.” you sighed, grabbing the shirt and shoving it into the closet hamper.

“Don’t I know it.” Simon chuckled lightly. The parts of the apartment that grabbed his attention next were your additions, a lip gloss tube in the key bowl, a cute teapot on the stove, the CD player next to the TV. You had given the home a “woman’s touch” as Price would have put it. Simon found himself foolishly imagining where your items would fit into his sparsely decorated flat as he toed off his shoes, but then again he was here, in your apartment, so maybe not so ridiculous after all.

“You can come in, ya know?” You giggled from the living room, kneeling down to slot a CD into the player.

“Right, sorry.” he muttered, shuffling his feet across the creaking wood floors and taking a seat on the couch, wincing at how it groaned under his weight. You plopped down right next to him and just began chattering on above the din of the quiet music.

////

When the clock read 11:53, around an hour and a half after you had originally arrived, he began to get antsy. He worried you were going to ask him to leave, to exit this warm bubble you had created for him, it was late but he would have stayed for hours had you asked him.

His stomach dropped when you moved to get up, he had a feeling he knew what was coming. That this would be some one time thing like he had feared, a nice conversation and nothing more. He began to clench and unclench his fists subconsciously, the thought of going back out into the cold streets now felt torturous. But then you just asked him sweetly what kind of tea he wanted.

“Anything.” he rushed out, just relieved he could stay here, with you a little longer. He followed you like some lost dog into the kitchen, watched you fill up that cute teapot with water and click on the stove before leaning against the counter across from him.

You were pressed close by the small layout of the kitchen, “I uh, I hope you don’t mind the music I put on.” You murmured, trying to fill the suddenly awkward silence.

“No, I like it.” He responded bluntly, but  his eyes were no longer meeting yours. For the past hour they had been locked onto your lips. Gaze silent, but wanting. 

Gingerly, you reached up a hand to his face, noting the way his breath caught in his throat when your fingertips brushed against his scarred skin. On the tips of your feet now, you tilted your head to get around that handsome roman nose before gently placing your lips on his. It was quick, fleeting, it ended as soon as it started. You pulled away, embarrassed due to his deadly still posture, not a hair on him moved.

“Sorry, I just, well- it was a good time with you tonight and-”

It was his turn to cut you off, the quick kiss apparently being all the motivation he needed to surge forward, sliding his hand onto the curve of your waist and guiding your head with a gentle hand on your cheek. Your surprised yelp was swallowed up by his lips enveloping yours. Pressing your body to his and inhaling deeply, it was as if he was trying to swallow you whole with his figure. 

Finding a gentle rhythm, he moved his lips against yours, and god were they soft. Like velvet against his chapped and scarred ones. He practically growled when your lips left his, his mouth chased yours. Quirking into a crooked smile when he noticed you teasing smirk. The hand on your cheek moved so he could intertwine his fingers in your hair, cradling the back of your head and guiding your lips back to his. The sweet kiss turned hungry and feverish, the hand on your waist slid down to cradle where the fat of your ass met your thigh. All of a sudden you were being lifted to sit on the counter with just one of his hands, placed down gently by him before he resumed his desperate grip on your thigh. You attempted to move away once more, to catch the breaths he had been taking from you. But his grip tightened on the back of your head,

“Don’t.” The deep rumble of his Manc accent had you pressing your thighs together.

He noticed immediately, smiling as he trailed those kisses down towards your neck, “Ya like that sweet’art?” The grumble in voice almost made it sound like he was purring.

You nodded quickly, gasping and whining as he found that sweet spot on your neck. “Tell me whatcha’ want love, c’mon love need’a ‘ear it.” He growled, forehead resting against yours.

“You.” was pathetically all you could manage after the sudden release of the tension that had been building since the moment you asked him to leave the pub, but that was good enough for him. He let out a low whine and let his forehead rest on your shoulder, one hand slipping up underneath your sweater and the other finding the hem of your jeans. You were back to whining in his ear and placing soft kisses on his neck, both of you too wrapped up in the moment to hear the click of the front door lock and someone made their way inside.

You both heard the door close though and paused, not daring to look, bodies tensed and unmoving.

“Hey we’re back,” Kyle’s voice, “Soap said it was okay if I came to grab copy of- oh.”

Another awkward moment of silence before-

“Ye’ owe me a tenner then Gaz!" Johnny erupted into laughter.

“Aye! No, I still won!” Kyle argued back “It’s 12:11 now, so technically it's not today anymore mate.”

“Yeah but 12:11 's still tonight and I was bettin' that they’d shag t'night so I think-”

“COULD YOU GET THE FUCK OUT JOHNNY?! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!” You suddenly snapped, finding your voice under the mountain of embarrassment you were under. Simon had been completely silent, hands now white-knuckling the counter top, as he looked away from the scene, staring holes into the cabinets under the sink. All while still leaning over you, jaw tight and teeth grinding, the tips of his ears noticeably red.

“ 'ave some sympathy lass! I jus' lost a tenner!” Johnny continued, unfazed, “I mean really Lt. could ye 'ave started a wee bit sooner then? What were ye waitin’ for? A full moon?”

Simon stayed silent so you took it upon yourself, “WHAT WERE YOU THINKING JUST BARGING IN HERE?!” You tried to regain some decency and push Simon away so you could stand up, but he remained stationary against your attempts to move him, still having a staring contest with the wall.

“I live 'ere too, ye know! An' I texted ya!”

You groaned, realizing your phone sat untouched on the couch.

“Just- just-” You let out a frustrated growl, “You are insufferable.” You hiss, finally slipping from Simon’s guard and yanking on one of his firmly placed hands, and he let you. Whirl him around and wordlessly drag him down the hallway to your private room, following your steps.

"What about yer tea?!" Johnny called out, laughter lacing his voice.

"Oh fuck off!"

////

You shut the door behind you after shoving him through it, embarrassed beyond belief and burning with frustration.

“Sorry he’s such a pain in the ass”

“ s’okay,” Simon finally spoke again, “was hoping to end up here anyway” 

That made your eyes widen and cheeks burn almost uncomfortably hot, as he swiftly crossed the room to continue what had been rudely interrupted. He clung to your waist like his life depended on it.

“But he’s-” You began, in between feverish kisses “They’re still-”

He growled in your ear a low, “Let ‘em hear.” It was once again all the warning you got before one hand lifted you up once more “wrap ya' legs 'round my waist sweet thing,” he encouraged, "yeah jus’ like tha’.” He smashed his lips against yours, walking you over to your bed, avoiding the clothes you had strewn around from trying to get ready early on that night, which he immediately picked up on. Setting you gently on the bed, he began to murmur against your lips with a smile, “What's all this? Wanted to look nice for me huh?”

You nodded along dumbly, the feeling his hardened cock in his trousers pressed up against your clothed core became all too much. He let out a low chuckle as he felt you ankles lock around waist.

“ 'M not going anywhere love don’ worry” He slid two calloused hands back under your sweater, ready to take it off. He stopped immediately upon hearing your whines of protest

“Wha’s wrong then love?” He whispered

It took all your brain power to form a coherent sentence in this state but somehow you managed. Lazily removing a hand from his neck and pointing behind you, “The window.” you said breathlessly.

He turned to find the blinds of your street facing window open. He might have been able to deal with his mates hearing some but strangers was a different story.

“Shit.” he untangled himself from you and quickly pulled them shut, “Don’t need anybody seein' what I’m doin' to my girl.”

“Your girl?” you questioned weakly

“Yeah,” he smirked, “ ‘m keepin’ you.”

////

It had all come back, crashing down on him like a wave. He could barley believe he had spent the night with you. You had actually want him, asked him to stay, let him have you, all of you. He untangled himself from you arms, hellbent on grabbing you a hot towel and a glass of water. He slipped into his boxers and his T-shirt and quietly opened the door to slip into the hallway. He could only hope you believed he meant what he said when he told you he wanted to keep you, though now he cringed at his confidence and wording.

He was met with a smirking Johnny leaning over the island as he entered the kitchen.

"Where's Garrick?"

"Fucked off back to his place before you woke up."

"Hm." Simon grabbed a cup from the same cabinet he saw you had last night and began to fill it at the sink.

" 'Hm'? really? Thas' it?" Johnny scoffed "Come on then mate? How'd it go?"

Simon was about to disappear back into your room, without so much as another word to the sergeant before he stopped. Without turning he muttered a quick, awkward, "Thanks."

"Ya know what, I'll take it." Johnny clapped a hand over his friends back and Simon winced. The scratches on his back you had given him burned a bit.

"Oh?"

Simon grumbled and left a bemused Johnny in the kitchen. Back in your room he was reminded how lucky he really had gotten. The sun light perfectly highlighted and shadowed your featured. the curves and dips of your naked body were covered loosely by your white sheets. Your sleeping face peaceful and angelic, you really did seem like a dream.

So he could put up with Johnny more, for you.

A/n: Is this just me coming to terms with the fact I have a humiliation kink? Yeah probably.