#first of all. i haven’t been able to stop thinking about it and watching the video i took of it

[bunnyclawzz]

Okai hear me out. Nerd mark, he has a HUGE crush on you, like, HUGE. He's been in love with you since you're both like 12, but he has never talked to you since he's too shy. Now, he gets his power, getting a lil bit confident and realize that he can steal whatever he wants from your room when you're sleeping/not in your house

What stuff the different warrants would take from your room? How would they use it? Would they return it? 👀

Haii!! I was like, dying for a request like this because I know Mark is a weird little freak!! I haven’t written lengthy smut in a while so forgive me if this isn’t written too well 😓 It’s a bit longer than I intended it to be but that’s whateverr

(˶' ꒳ '˶)

Warnings: Smut (not sex), clothes stealing, very freak/perv Mark, fem reader

Ever since he had first seen you back in middle school he's been head over heels. From day one he was completely enamored by you, he just did his best to hide his heart eyes for you...Which he always failed at doing.

He always watched from a distance like a stalker. Sitting in class admiring you year after year, eavesdropping on conversations just to hear your sweet voice, bumping into countless walls and people because he had been to distracted staring at you in the halls instead of paying attention to his surroundings. He knew had no chance of getting with you. Him, Mark Grayson, the guy who spends every Burger Mart paycheck on comics and collectibles dating you?? It's laughable! Then it happened. He finally got his powers after years of waiting for it to happen. He was of course ecstatic! He could fly, he got super strong,his stamina is so much better, he has enhanced senses!!

It took a long while for him to get used to it, of course. A lot of training and practicing to be a real hero. But as soon as he had it all under control? Being thee Invincible was the biggest ego boost ever. Becoming a hero, being on the news all the time, reporters practically begging to know more about him....it definitely made him confident. He would do extra long patrols just for the attention, just walking or flying wherever to "keep the city safe." Whilst on one of these extra long patrols he saw you. Nothing bad going on, just you walking home by yourself. Why would you ever do such a thing? You're so smart! You know what kind of things happen to people who walk alone late at night, so why would you even think to do it? He just can't have that! He had no option other than to walk you home safely! He loved how chatty you were the whole time, he doesn't even mind that the first time he gets a real conversation with you is as his hero persona

"What's it like fighting all the time?" "You seem so strong! Is it hard to workout and keep your strength? "What's flying like, it seems so fun to be able to do that!" All perfectly endearing questions which he Gladly answered for you as he walked beside you.

He got you home safely, walked you to the door and all like a real gentleman..and as soon as he realized he now knew exactly where you lived? Oh there was no stopping him and his stupid ideas. They stayed ideas at first! He didn't want to scare you by watching you from your window or sneaking in like he's been daydreaming about! But he could only fantasize so long before he acted on it.

It was as “normal” as stalking could be at first. Just watching your home from the sky-just to watch for any intruders, of course! What if someone tried to break in?! He had to be there to stop them! Just watching your home for at least an hour every day for five days. During that time he was able to pick up your schedule; when you left the house to go on a walk, or when you left to go shopping for hours on end, and how he noticed that you left your window open all the time. Yes, it’s just a small little crack, but honestly…you were practically inviting him inside with that.

Once he knew your home was completely empty, he flew down. He hesitated for a short second before he pushed the rest of your window open and slid inside. He was stunned for a moment. Your room really reflected you. All soft and sweetness. Just how he would imagine your room to be

He went to your bed first. Sat on your plush comforter like an awkward guest at first. It’s wrong, he thought to himself. What was he even doing in here? It’s gross really, why would anyone-and then he cuts his own thoughts short by shoving his face into your heart shaped pillow. He inhales deeply, practically huffing the thing. It smells just like you-his new heightened senses only help him. Smells just like you; from your hair products to your perfume and body oils/ perfume.

“Oh fuck….you can’t be real..” he murmured the words to himself between breathes, a hand already palming his bulge through the skin tight suit. “You can’t be human…such a f-fucking angel” he continued to speak to himself between breathes, his hand now clutching your still warm comforter as he grinds into your mattress. “Y-you smell so good-“ he murmured as if he was talking to you “-so perfect, baby” he groans as he tightens his hold on the pastel sheets. You already got him so close, nearing the edge from your sent alone, right about to tip over before he gasps and forces himself to sit up.

It’s wrong. Sneaking into his long term crushes room wad bad enough, but humping your bed was way too far!! He just felt so guilty about the thought of cumming in your room!

Unfortunately for you, that was only the first time he snuck in. The guilt and worry didn’t compare to the need and desperation he was feeling.

It became routine; waiting for your home to be empty, slipping inside, and perving around. The first few times he mainly just laid in your bed; daydreaming he was laying beside you, cuddling with you and not the pillow he held to his nose. The same one he began to hump and grind on after a week of sneaking in. Of course he didn’t only lay in your bed-you had so much other stuff to go through!

You’re vanity; all your pretty makeup, where you kept your perfume and where he would spray said perfume on his wrists so he could smell you even after he left. The closet where he would go through all your tops and bottoms, reminiscing about the first time he saw you in each article of clothing. You really do just have the prettiest outfits, don’t you? He’d gladly buy you more. Any little outfit and accessories you wanted as long as he got to watch you model them for him.

It became like a ritualistic schedule; Sneak in, lay in your bed, sniff nearly everything like a dog, go through your makeup, spray your perfume-But what really got him to act like a real pervert? The laundry basket.

He he didn’t do it at first. That first time he snuck in he completely avoided it. The second day though, the light brown wood container practically calling to him. Leaving it open that day with a pair of your used underwear at the top of the pile was practically an invite to Mark. When he took the dainty cloth out he whined. He stared at the garment with a pout. Who were you wearing these lacy panties for? Why do you even have something this pretty if it wasn’t for him? He had so many thoughts, so many that just got burrowed beneath his loudest thought.

He felt so guilty for using your used underwear like this. Yet he didn’t stop; Whining and moaning into your underwear, desperately licking at where your perfect cunt would have been-where he knew your fluids woukd leak out as he fists his cock on your bed. Using your lotion.

“B-Baabbyy..” he whines the nickname, huffing in your musky scent. He takes one more deep inhale of the flimsy lace before he moves it downwards onto his flushed dick. “P-please..god—You feel so good-“ He moans and moans over and over again till he can’t hear anything other than himself. It didn’t take long for him to cum, mouth hung open, whining and bucking his hips up as he pretty much ruined a pair of your fancy underwear. He pants heavily, looks like he just got out of a harsh fight with the way he was breathing. Once he came back to Earth, he pouts at the sight of your soiled underwear, he couldn’t just let this be a one time thing!

Over around two weeks you begin to notice more and more items of yours missing. Whining to your friends about how so much of your lotion is gone, how your soo sure that the washing machine is eating your underwear, how it’s weirdly warm and almost musky like in your room when you come home in the evening.

Just completely blissfully unaware that it’s your shy nerdy classmate Mark who’s sneaking into your room. How it’s him who’s using up so much of your lotion, who’s messing up your bedsheets and rummaging through all your items.

Or how it’s him stealing your used panties and shirts to sniff at while he jerks off just to imagine it’s really you in the room taking care of his needs.

[salmoninnit]

Wish You Stayed

ex!satoru gojo x reader x crush?!choso kamo pt. 3 : masterlist

Satoru once believed that everything would be fine as long as he had you. Had you there to help him, had you there to caress him and stare at him like he was the only one worth looking at. Yet everyday since he left you, the hole that you left in him was nothing short of a crater. 

Debris scattered in him as if he had gotten hit by one too big. He never thought of you as anything less than his missing piece. 

He loved you hard, loved you like he’ll never love someone else. He was young and naive in that factor, but when he sits across from you, he can’t help but think that it was truer than anything he’s spoken. 

Satoru gazes at the ends of your hair, he knows you’ve cut it, he knows you’ve cut the last remaining pieces of him off. But he likes to imagine that the ends of your hair were attached to him as the ones he once caressed as you smiled at him. Deeply in love with him and everything he would gladly give to you. 

He’s delusional, he knows it, but he can’t help but imagine the hair around you was once the parts he was so freely able to touch. Run his hands through it and let the stress in his life disapperate. 

Satoru had never once stopped loving you and it killed him. Every surface of his body is scorned from your touch and gazes. He wishes so deeply that he never left. That he could’ve grown up and figured everything out with you by his side. He would’ve moved into your shitty little apartment just to be able to come home after the grueling days of his life to you in your shared bed. 

But that’s in the past now, never to be able to be rewritten. Never to be able to go back and change it.

Now in the present, you sat across from him typing away at your laptop that you brought back into the room with you. Saying you had to type out some emails for work you had forgotten about. He would’ve reminded you if he had known, if he had been there the whole time. 

Once you closed your laptop, it snapped him back into the present and escaping his thoughts. 

“Finally that’s over with”, you say as you push your laptop covered with stickers over to your left as you smile at him. “So are you just gonna loiter in my apartment or do you wanna do something?”

“Hmm loitering sounds pretty good to me”, he says as he brings his pointer finger and thumb up to rubbing his chin. “But wanna watch something? I’d say we can go out and do something but the only places I can think of currently revolve around food”.

“Yea..oh! If you haven't watched that new anime that came out, apothecary diaries, wanna watch it?”, you say as you eagerly get up. 

“Oh yea I’ve seen some clips of it but haven’t gotten around to watching it, so lets watch”, he says as he gets up and follows you to the couch. Settling down on either side of a plushie you had settled in the middle of the couch. A blanket skewed across the seats as you crawl under it. Offering some to him as he takes a portion of it, draping it across his lap. 

“Dubbed?”, you mindlessly ask as you type out the name in the search. He hums in agreement as you press play on the first episode. 

A couple episodes in you tilt your head as you listened to Jinshi speak, “Huh he sounds like you”.

Satoru whips his head towards you, “No he doesn't!"

You laugh and nod your head, “Yes he does! But fine object all you want, he’s kinda a charmer”. Satoru flushes at that, he doesn’t know why but after he heard you say that, he’s listening ever so intently whenever Jinshi is on the screen. 

And he can’t unhear his voice now, slightly softer than his usual tone, in the tone of how he speaks to you. 

Satoru categorizes this into his memory, you were basically calling him a charmer if he sounds just like Jinshi. 

As time passed, you drifted off to sleep. Satoru watched as you laid your head on your plushie and were out. He took his time memorizing the slight changes in your face, more grown than before. You looked so peaceful as you slept and he felt peace. 

This could’ve been what he had if he had stayed, coming home to you sleeping on the couch after waiting up for him so you could both go to sleep in your shared room. Snuggled up and at peace until one of you had to go to school or work. It was bittersweet watching you rest. It hurt his chest, his heart hurting and wishing he knew what you had been up to those 3 years he was absent from your life. 

Your phone buzzed on the table and he looked over at it. He kinda wishes he hadn’t but he already saw the message.

Choso: i take back what i said earlier, dress cute but warm for our date tomorrow. i’ll be over at 5 to get you, have a goodnight :) 

Satoru stilled, he looked at you and then back at your phone. He stared at it until your screen turned off and felt sick. 

You were moving on.

You were moving on just as he came back into your life. 

Maybe he was too late, but still, it didn’t mean he couldn’t try. 

He tried waking you up so you could move to your bed but you wouldn’t budge. So just as yesterday and many times before, he carried you to your room. Settling you under the covers, turning your light off and plugging in your phone. As he was walking away from you, he glanced back and sighed. 

Hopefully he can show you he’s changed for the better, show you that he can be there when he wasn’t able to before. 

The sun shone through your curtains, waking you up. You furrowed your eyebrows as you looked outside your bedroom window. It took a few seconds to realize Satoru must’ve brought you to bed again. 

Sighing as you glanced around, he plugged your phone in and covered you up. 

It was sweet but it hurt at the same time. You ached for him, for the times you’d be in your bed together a couple months before you two broke things off. The memories replayed as you tried to shake them away. You don’t know if you could ever stop loving him and you don’t know if that’s good or bad. 

But that can be dealt with at another time. You grabbed your phone to see 2 messages from the same two people who had texted yesterday. 

Smiling at Choso’s message, you replied and agreed to whatever he had in mind for later. 

Satoru: Hey, once a heavy sleeper, always a heavy sleeper. Let myself out and made sure to clean up, have a good day today. You: Ah thank you once again, sorry I keep falling asleep around you. Hope you have a good day as well :)

You turned your phone off as you proceeded to get ready for the day. It was early and you had some grocery shopping to do before your date later. So you made your way out to run your errands before you had to come back and get ready for whatever was awaiting you tonight.

Having been told to dress warm but cute, you ended up in a long sleeve maroon shirt, a black jean skirt with fleece tights and a pair of cute boots. Taking a black jacket to cover up more just in case (based on my own personal style sorry :P). 

Doing a once over in the mirror, your usual makeup routine and having your hair straight. Easy to put up in case you’re doing a physical activity. A couple options crossed your mind when he said dress warm like there wasn’t just a heat wave. 

You heard a knock on your door and made your way out of your room with your purse. Rubbing your hands on your skirt and checking once last time in the mirror by your door. 

Sighing and opening the door with a smile, Choso stood on the other side holding a beautiful bouquet of purple and white flowers. He was dressed in black cargo jeans, a black shirt and a dark jean jacket. He was holding the flowers with both his hands, his rings shining against the light. His hair was in the same style as before, a little bit neater. 

He looked too good. How were you supposed to be out with him all night and not just admire him? 

“Hi Choso”, you greet and bite the side of your lip lightly. He adorned a small blush as he takes you in, just as you did. 

“Hey you look beautiful”, he says as he steps forward to greet you with a light kiss on your cheek. You flush and giggle lightly. He leans back and stretches out his hand to hand you the flowers. “These are for you, didn’t know what you liked but had bought them and put them together”. 

You take the flowers and sniff them, they were beautiful. The colors reminded you of his eyes and sadly Satoru’s hair. You pushed that aside, you were not going to compare anything tonight to Satoru. Just focus on the time you had with Choso. 

“Here come in while I put these in a vase”, you gestured for him to come in. He followed through as you made your way to the kitchen, grabbing a vase from under the counter and filling it with water. 

“Your place is so homey, honestly not what I would’ve thought but at the same time it is”, Choso says with a small laugh as he looks around your living room and kitchen area. 

“Yea I’ll have lived here for almost 4 years in January, don’t really plan on moving anytime soon. Rent’s good, neighbours aren’t hell and areas not bad. Got lucky when I found this place”, you say as you remove the flowers from their packaging. Seeing he cut the bottoms at an angle already and dropping them into the vase. The bouquet being full made it look so pretty in a vase. 

“They really are beautiful Choso, thank you”, you say as you place them on your table. Walking over to him and mimicking the cheek kiss he gave you. He in turn flushed and smiled. 

“Anything for a pretty girl”, he said as you smiled. Making your way out of your apartment and locking up, following him to his car. 

“So what’s on the table for tonight Mr. Kamo”, you said as he opened the door for you. 

“It’s a surprise until we get there”, he says your last name with Ms in front of it as he closes your door. He drove a black convertible bmw, it was a nice car, clean and smelled like cherries.  

“Can’t wait to see what it is then, how was your day today?”, you asked as he started driving. 

“It was good, simple day today. Hung out with my brother Yuji. Had taken him to his college for a tour. He’s really excited and it was nice to see him and his friends happy”, he chuckles at remembering the day. 

“Aw that’s so sweet, I take you’re close with him?”, you ask and look at him. 

“Yea I have a couple brothers, four actually”, Choso says as he turns to make a left. 

“All boys? Five boys sounds hectic, your parents must’ve gone crazy”, you laugh lightly. 

“Yea, we all got the same mom. I share a dad with two of my brothers Kezichu and Eso, they’re a couple years older than me. Yuji shares a dad with my other brother Sukuna. They look so alike but Sukuna is 2 years older than him”, Choso says as you widen your eyes. 

“Sukuna? As Sukuna Ryomen?”, you ask him with your eyebrows raised. He furrows his eyebrows as he glances at you. 

“Yea, you know him?”, he questions. 

“Yea I do, he’s my tattoo artist and a friend at this point? I have an appointment with him in 2 weeks”, you say with a laugh. “I never would’ve thought you were one of the brothers he talks about”.

“That’s honestly crazy, I forget he’s a known tattoo artist when he’s just a brother in my eyes”, Choso smiles and shakes his head. “He’s done all my tattoo’s I’ve had, practically one of his first clients”.

“Yea he’s really good, a surprisingly light hand for someone so big”, you say as you remember your first appointment with him. Suguru had suggested him after he got a tattoo with him, you viewed his work on his instagram and it was so good. Suguru’s tattoo also looked so much better in person than in the photo Sukuna posted.

When you walked in the tattoo shop a year ago, you didn’t know what to expect but you were not expecting the massive 19 year old. He was short spoken at first, discussing what you wanted and getting to work. It took a couple more times for him to be open and friendly, in his own version of friendly that is, he’d pick on you in a joking manner. But was open about his life as you were yours. 

“Yea he can be an ass sometimes but I’m sure you know that. But I know he cares for his family, we all grew up together”, Choso says as he pulls into a parking lot. “Okay I hope you have been here before and if not, I’ll show you how to do it”.

You glance up at where you are, an ice skating place. Your heart swells, you always wanted to go ice skating. It had been a bucket list item that will now be crossed off. 

“I’ve never been! I’ve wanted to for years but never wanted to fall on my ass and embarrass myself”, you smile at him. He smiles back and tilts his head. 

“I actually played hockey in high school so don’t worry, I’m not letting you fall today. Maybe next time”, he laughs out. “I’m kidding…maybe”.

You laugh as you both get out and make your way inside, he pays for your shoes and grabs them, it’s a huge ice rink. A couple people scattered about on it, some who look like it’s second nature while others look like it’s their first time. You follow him to a bench and he hands you your pair. You proceed to put them on and he takes your shoes and walks off to place them in a locker along with his. You pop your jacket on and zip it up, putting your hair in a ponytail to keep it out og your face.

“Okay, it’s easy to walk in the skates on this ground. Just imagine it as if you were wearing a pair of heels but not at the same time, kinda hard to explain”. You nod as you stand up, he wasn’t wrong, it was easy on this ground. On the ice will be an entirely different thing. 

He steps onto the ice first and turns back to you, he grabs ahold of your hands and helps you as you step onto the ice. It’s slippery but with him holding you, you don’t feel as unstable. 

“If you’ve ever rollerbladed or skated before, it’s also similar to that. Push forward with one foot than the other following suit”, Choso instructed and you did as he said. He was going slow with you as you tried to get the hang of it. You pushed forward as he went back, helping you and looking good at it. 

“Gosh it ‘s slippery but it’s also refreshing at the same time”, you laugh nervously as you push forward. 

“Yea it takes a while, I remember the first time I skated with my older brothers. To put it short, I ate shit so much”, he smiles. 

“Oh god, you really better not let me fall Choso”, you say as you try to get the hang of it a bit more. 

“Do you think you're comfortable enough for me to only hold one of your hands?”

“Yea just keep me on the inside near the wall”, you say as he switches to your side. Interlacing his hand with yours as he helps you. You stumble a little here and there but it was so nice. So fun, something you really haven’t had to enjoy in a while. Especially with someone else. 

You had made it around the rink a couple times and Choso was smiling at you. He had never taken a girl on a date to an ice rink before. Especially one he frequents often. Choso has only been on a couple dates with some girls, usually taking them to restaurants but he felt like he had to show you more. More of what he liked to do, in hopes you’d like to do it with him as well. 

Choso never really had a girlfriend, he hadn’t been on a date in a year or so. Focusing on working his job as a manager while also having agreed to help Sukuna find his own shop. And he had found a place that had potential for what Sukuna wanted and was helping finalize the paperwork for him. So he had time to get himself out there, that night he met you, he wasn’t really looking for anyone. Just wanted to get a drink after his long day at work. 

But then you stumbled -crashed- into him and you were beautiful. Sweet and funny, clicking with him in a way none of his previous dates or girls he’s interacted with before. He had the courage to ask for your number and was so excited deep down when you agreed. 

He wanted to try his best with you, make you remember him even if you didn’t end up liking him after this date. He had his doubts like any man would, you were a full catch. He just needed to try to be great for you. 

And so far, it seemed like you were enjoying him and his date he planned. 

After an hour or so you grew more confident. He let go of your hand as you skated on your own. Not stumbling, teetering a bit as your arms were slightly outstretched. 

“Choso! I’m doing it!”, you exclaimed as he skated alongside you. Aware of your movements, right there in case you were going to fall. But giving enough space for you to freely skate on your own. 

“You’re doing great sweetheart, think you can skate a whole lap?”, Choso questioned as you smiled. Nodding your head and proceeding to skate around the rink. A bit slow but more confident now.

Laughing quietly at what Choso would say about some people around the rink, light-hearted jokes, not bashing them. Stopping and helping some young girls who fell down and were having a hard time getting up. It tugged at your heart to see him helpful to others, he gave tips to some guys who he had joked about previously, telling them how to balance and stand while skating to lower the amount of times they fell. 

After a while, you two exited the skating rink. He grabbed your shoes from the locker and brought them to you as you took your skates off. 

“That was so fun! This time I didn’t fall around you, progress or what?”, you giggle as you slip your boots on. He follows suit with his shoes and grabs your skates. 

“Major progress, but even if you were about to fall. I’d still have saved you like last time”, Choso shook his head as you followed him to the counter. “Are you hungry? There’s this really good restaurant not far from here. They have multiple options of food and their drinks are good.”

“Yea! Let’s go”, you say as you make your way out and to his car. Talking about what you guys had majored in, how you got your jobs and other things like that. 

The restaurant he took you to was very nice, not fancy but comforting and calming. Getting seated at a window table and being able to see the outside life, people walking around, the stars taking over the sky as the sun sets. 

“This is one of my favorite spots to eat at, the customer service is good and the food is even better”, he exclaims as you look over the menu. There were so many options and he told you which ones were good for a first try here. You picked one of them and ordered a mojito, your favorite drink at this point. 

“You really like mojitos huh?”, he leans back as he looks at you. You nod and giggle. 

“Yea not much of a multiple type drinker, I like my shots and mojitos over most things. Wine but when it’s sweet and nowhere near bitter”, you say as you tilt your head. 

“Well that’s good to know. I make a mean mojito, gonna have to make you one sometime”, he smiles. 

“Also a bartender?”

“It was when I was in college, part time job making drinks for parties”, he shrugs casually. 

“Wow so kind of you do so for a bunch of college kids who would love any drink with alcohol”, you say. 

“Yea you wouldn’t believe how many times I would overfill the portion of alcohol to the point where I had to cut people off from my own doing”, he shakes his head. 

“Ruining their pallet for when they were legal enough to go out and immediately tell the difference in their watered down drinks”, you say.

“Yea felt kinda bad but hey, less drinks to be made for-”

“Well well well, what a surprise to see you here”, you hear a voice behind you say. You turn and see them, Satoru and Suguru standing as a waiter is leading them to a table. 

“Oh..hey guys”, you say with a small smile. Satoru is lightly smiling at you.

“Hey”, Suguru greets, walking up and giving a small side hug. Satoru stood and begrudgingly walked closer, giving you a tight hug. 

“Choso, these are my friends, Suguru and Satoru. Guys this is Choso”, you introduce them as they wave at him. 

“Hey nice to meet you guys”, Choso greets as he smiles at them. 

“You’re the guy from the bar right?”, Suguru asks.

“Haha yea that’s me, you guys were the friends she said she was with?”, Choso asks with a tilt of his head. 

“Yea that’s us, high school friends and what not”, Suguru lightly laughs. Satoru hasn’t spoken but is looking right at you. 

“Feel better today?”, he finally says.

“Yea way better, thank you again”, you smile. 

“Yea anytime, well we’ll let you be”, Satoru says as he lightly ruffles your hair, you groan and fix your hair. 

“Yea yea, go on your way to your little date”, you say. 

“Funny”, Suguru sarcastically says. “Enjoy your date”, he says sincerely and bids you two goodbye. Turning and walking towards the table the waiter was waiting at. Satoru stays for a second, his gaze flickering to Choso. 

“Get her home safe”, he says but more so demands. 

“Was planning on it”, Choso responds, slight irritation arising as he narrows his eyes slightly. 

“Bye Satoru”, you say and he walks off towards Suguru. 

“Why’d he say that?”, Choso questions you, as he watches Satoru walk away. 

“Cause he’s annoying sometimes, he just cares”, you say as you sip your water. 

“Yea but he looks at you like he’s in love with you”, Choso grunts as he drinks his water. You still, great just what you needed. 

“We used to date in high school”, you say as you set your cup down. Letting out a sigh as you look at him. 

“Is he the one you meant when you said you haven’t seen one of your friends in a while”, he asks. 

“Yea, we were no contact for 3 years but he’s still my friend”, you say as you look to your side.

“Okay, good to know”, he says.

The date went on smoothly, neither of you bringing up your friends who just so happened to be dining 10 feet away from you. In your peripheral while looking at Choso, you could see Satoru staring every so often. You don’t acknowledge it, just looking once Choso is staring out the window. Giving a smile to him as he widens his eyes slightly, returning the smile then looking back at Suguru. 

Choso pays after some back and forth and you ultimately agree for him to pay this time but you got next time.

“So I get a second date?”, he says as he grabs your hand over the table. You laugh and nod your head at him. 

“Yes you do, can’t wait for the next time”, you squeeze his hand. He smiles at you, his eyes crinkling as he does. You make your way to the door behind Choso and glance back at their table. Satoru looks slightly irritated as he’s staring but once he sees you notice he quickly smiles and waves. You return it and Choso grabs your hand and leads you outside. 

So much for a first date when your ex surprisingly shows up and watches from a far. 

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Okay ages for everyone so it kinda makes some sense: Kezichu- 26 Eso- 25 Choso- 22 Sukuna- 20 Yuji- 18 Reader and friend group are 21 going on 22 I know Choso is supposed to be the older brother but I wanted him to be close in age with Sukuna and Sukuna is NOT an asshole. I’ve read too many things where he’s a dick and it irks my soul. I like him still being gruff and rash but when it comes to his family and friends, I like to head-canon he cares in his own way.  also little apothecary sneak since the VA for dubbed Gojo is also Jinshi :3 can you tell i love writing gojo's pov

[crazysandwich]

Tony Stark’s Legacy Isn’t Up for Debate

Okay, I need to talk about Tony Stark because I need to get this off my chest. Fair warning, this might be a bit controversial.

Disclaimer: I haven’t watched Ironheart yet, and I know I’m reacting to a single line taken out of context. Also, no spoilers in this post aside from that one line I’ll be talking about. So if you haven’t seen Ironheart yet either, don’t worry. I’m not going into anything else from the show. But these are just the thoughts that came to me after hearing it. I’ve seen a lot of clips on TikTok around the line, “Do you think Tony Stark would be Tony Stark if he wasn’t a billionaire?” and honestly, my issue here is mostly with the writing. Not with Ironheart as a character. Again, I haven’t seen the full series so I’m not judging her. But this isn’t the first time I’ve noticed this pattern.

There are a lot of great characters in the MCU with so much potential for good storytelling. But can we stop diminishing the impact that the original characters had? Specifically, Tony Stark, in this case. Let’s be real. He was a big deal. Huge. And we shouldn’t forget that. Move forward, yes. Create new stories, yes. But don’t erase what came before.

Lately, it feels like some writers are trying to push Tony into the background or treat him like a secondary figure. That just doesn’t sit right with me. You can’t rewrite the fact that he had one of the most significant character arcs in the MCU. Fans remember his story, his growth, his sacrifices, every iconic line.

And let’s not forget, Tony Stark’s entire arc was about proving he was more than just a billionaire. Yes, that was part of his identity, but it wasn’t the full story. Over ten years and multiple films, he showed again and again that he was willing to put others before himself, that he could grow, take responsibility, and make real sacrifices. That was the core of his character growth. From a self-centered weapons manufacturer to someone who snapped his fingers to save the universe. He didn’t just coast on his wealth. He evolved. That’s why people connected with him. That’s why it hurts to see that reduced to just "billionaire" as if that was all he ever was.

We literally turned “Tony Stark was able to build this in a cave! With a box of scraps!” into a cult quote. It was so iconic that it even got referenced again in a Spider-Man movie. Did the writers, producers, or anyone at Marvel forget how big of an impact that had? Why are they trying to downplay him now? It comes off as disrespectful.

Again, no hate to Ironheart. I’m excited to watch the series, and I’ll go in with an open mind. But this weird energy around dismissing Tony Stark needs to stop.

It’s not even just this show. I remember The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (which I loved, by the way, one of my favorites), and there was that part early on where it’s revealed the Avengers weren’t on a traditional salary, despite Tony’s financial support. And I get it, it’s part of the plot, but come on. He literally funded their headquarters, tech, suits, operations, and probably their living expenses too. The man gave them two whole buildings. What more was he supposed to do, run payroll on top of all that?

Yes, a formal salary would have been nice, but let’s not act like he left everyone high and dry. It feels like the writers are using him as an easy target lately, and I don’t get it.

Anyway, this turned into a full-on rant, haha. I just had to share these thoughts. Not sure if anyone else feels the same. Once again, no hate to Ironheart, I believe she has a lot of potential, and I have high hopes for the series. Just please stop disrespecting the OGs. If you want to create better and newer characters, do it. But don’t erase the ones who built the foundation.

[tenisperfection]

The thing about knowing I am prone to sleep paralysis but only every few years is I have to go to bed every night preparing like this might be the night.

[highdefinitions]

i don’t think you all understand the impact the great divide by noah kahan has had on me

[moonstruckme]

MAAAAEEEEE I was wondering if I could request a Peter Parker fic where he just kind of adopts shy!reader without her consent like “yeah we’re friends now, we spend time together and also we’re probably gonna fall in love and date but why don’t we just start with me walking you home from class” or some such nonsense. Also wondering if you could keep his spidey-powers; I love that little mutant freak

I hate you for doing this to me

Ugh our mutant freak <3 Thanks for the request babe!

tasm!Peter Parker x shy!reader ♡ 920 words

You’re never alone on the way home from class anymore. You’re not sure what changed at the start of the spring semester, if you just started putting out helpless-pedestrian energy or if it was something else, but soon after the start of classes your walks home from your night class on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Friday began being accompanied by none other than Spider-Man. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, it’s Peter. 

You and Peter have molecular biology together. On the first day of class, he rushed in just as your professor started lecturing. Every seat was full except the one next to you, and when you offered it to him silently with a nod of your head, Peter looked so relieved you’d think you handed him an A in the class. He’s been glommed onto your ever since; some days he asks you to stop for coffee after class, some days he offers to study with you in the library, and he always walks you home. You don’t know what you did to deserve the company, but you appreciate it. 

“You ever been there?” Peter asks, nodding to a stand advertising New York City’s Best Vegan Hot-Dogs. 

“No,” you say.

“Well, seems like we’ve gotta try them at some point. I mean, they’re the best in New York.” 

A smile tugs at your lips. Peter’s always doing that. Making plans, saying we. It’s like the idea of you two hanging out beyond the end of your class is a foregone conclusion in his head. You haven’t been able to figure out if that’s just the way Peter talks or if he means it. You hope it’s the latter. 

“You think so?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Peter says with affected certainty. “I mean, why would you doubt the sign? Everyone knows you have to get things like that certified.” 

You glance up at Peter, but one look into his smiling eyes is too much for you. You have to turn your face away. “I’m pretty sure there are three #1 Indian Restaurants in my neighborhood.” 

“Oof. Must make for some brutal decisions when you’re craving Indian.” 

Two weeks ago, you offered to buy Spider-Man dinner for walking you home. It was stupid—he can’t eat through the mask, which he told you kindly and which you could have figured out if you thought about it for more than a second before opening your mouth—but you were feeling guilty about stopping to pick up takeout and indebted for all the time he spends walking you home instead of preventing mob activity or whatever Spider-Man does. He professed, upon smelling your takeout, that Indian food is one of his favorites, too. 

You haven’t told Peter about your vigilante escort. Spider-Man never comes to you while Peter’s around—presumably because you don’t need his help if you’ve already got a companion—and it’s the sort of ridiculous story you know will sound made up out loud. Why do you know that Spider-Man likes matar paneer? What makes you so special? They’re unanswerable questions, and you’d never be able to look at Peter again if he laughed at you. 

“Hey.” Peter bumps your hip with his. You go stiff at the contact. “You okay?” 

“Hm?” You look up, and he’s watching you with concern. “Yeah, sorry.” 

“You seem a little quiet,” he says. And when your face heats, “Well, quieter than usual.” 

“Sorry,” you say again, embarrassed. “I think I’m just tired.” 

“Oh, yeah? Class was a long one, huh?” 

“Yeah.” 

“That makes sense.” Peter sounds disappointed. You blink at him in confusion, and he almost winces. “I don’t suppose…I mean, if you just want to get home I get that, but I was wondering if you wanted to grab food? With me?” 

Your steps stutter. It’s not that you and Peter have never hung out before. Or even that all the time you’ve spent together centers wholly around class—there have been coffees, chats in the hallway, walks in the park near your university building—but it’s something about the way he asks, like it’s important this time, like it means something. You want for it to mean something. 

“I could still grab food.” You’re not quite looking at him, fiddling with the contents of your jacket pocket. Popping the lid to your chapstick on and off. 

“Yeah?” Peter asks hopefully. 

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Mhm.” 

His voice softens, a smile in it. “Could you look at me, maybe?” 

You glance up, regretting it instantly as always. Peter is resplendent. Dimples framing his smile like parenthesis, hair mussed by the wind that beats at you while crossing every street, he’s the sort of handsome that’s only just starting to figure out how handsome he is. You think you probably make it easier for him. To figure it out. 

“Do you really want to,” he asks in a sincere tone, “or are you just appeasing me? If you’re tired I can take you straight to your place.” 

Your heart thudders. If you have to look at him for much longer you worry you’ll melt into the cracks of the pavement. “I want to,” you say. “I’m sort of hungry, too.” 

“Okay, awesome.” He sounds happy again. You think if you were lucky, that’d be the only thing you were put on Earth to do, make Peter happy. “Maybe we could try one of those Indian places near yours? See who’s really number one.” 

“Sure.” You smile up at him, brain buzzing when Peter beams back. 

“Sick! I could really go for some matar paneer.” 

[heeliopheelia]

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐃𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓

genre: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff

word count: 4.3k

warnings: cursing, crying, neglect, tiny mention of bleeding

a/n: i think i win the contest of overusing commas with this one 🤍 tbh this fic is just yapping so pls deal with me... it's good to write some proper angst again tho, i missed it :(( hope you guys like it and don't find them too repetetive!!

masterlist

LEE HEESEUNG

It's been two weeks since you got the opportunity to take a proper look at Heeseung. And now as you do, you find it hard to recognize your fiancé who looks like he's about to collapse from exhaustion, to say the least. 

“I never asked you to mother me or worry about me so much. Stop getting into my business so much. I’m not a child, YN.”

It’s like he was blind to how hurt his words and actions were making you feel. It’s so unusual for him, so out of character and unfamiliar to you, that you can’t help but think that maybe it really is your fault for riling him up this much.

“I worry about you because I’m your fiancé and I love you, you jerk!” You scoff at his careless words and take a step back, the aching in your heart only increasing. “I only want to look after you because you clearly don't know how to do it yourself. I mean, look at yourself! You look as if you haven’t slept in a week and I know you haven’t been eating either. How can I not worry about you when all you do is neglect yourself?”

“Dunno, maybe find yourself something to keep you busy enough. You stay at home all day, do as much as nothing, no wonder you’re so damn nosy. I would be too with this much time on my hands.”

He’s so indifferent to everything you say, you try to recall where it all started going so wrong. All you did was ask whether he’s eaten at work or not, and now the two of you are snapping at each other as if you weren’t lovers, and trying not to hurt each other was a long forgotten thought by now. 

“If you’re so unhappy with our relationship – with me, maybe it’s best we take a break,” you say as you feel your throat tighten painfully. 

“Agreed. I never even wanted this marriage in the first place,” he scowls, silencing you, words rolling out of his mouth way quicker than his brain is able to process it. 

He bites his words back quickly when he watches your face dropping along with your shoulders, and fuck, you look as if you’ve given up on him right then and there. 

You walk away then, tears streaming down your face, muttering something about how ungrateful he was being, and all Heeseung could do was stand still as if plastered to the floor, in utter disbelief of his own, untrue, words.

After his cruel statement echoes through his head for the fourth time, he finally snaps out of the self pity and rushes after you to the kitchen where you’re leaned over the counter, head buried in your hands as you cry.

“Baby, I’m sorry,” he apologizes quickly. He walks up from behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, resting his forehead on your shoulder blade. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry for everything I said, sweetheart.”

He turns you around gently and feels his chest tighten at how fucking sad you look. He never wants to see you like this. He never wants to be the cause of this ever again.

And when he looks to the side, his throat closes and dries completely at the sight of your engagement ring laying on the counter right behind you. 

“Are you sure you didn’t mean it?” You ask, wiping the tears away with your hand pointlessly as another stream follows right after. “Things like that don’t come out of nowhere.”

“I didn’t, love, I swear I didn’t. I’m so fucking sorry,” he breathes out, pulling you closer to him by your neck again. 

Never again. Never fucking again. He keeps telling himself in his head as he lifts your hand to his lips and presses a kiss to your knuckles, just where your ring was supposed to be sitting snugly. Then he lowers it and places your palm against his chest, right above his heart, and covers your smaller hand with his.

That was too close to losing you, and himself, for that matter. Because he would never recover if you were gone from his life and all because of him. 

“Then why did you even say it?” You sob pitifully as you feel the warm tears dripping down the tip of your nose.

“I don’t know,” he shushes you gently, trying his best to not break you any further. 

You pull away once you feel calm enough, hands clutching his t-shirt. “It's not too late to call off the wedding, Seung,” you manage out breathily, raising your palm to cup his cheek. “I'd rather not take the step further than have you unhappy.”

“Darling, no.” Heeseung bends down to minimize the distance between the two of you and peppers your face with loving, warm kisses. He just wants to erase those atrocious thoughts out of your mind as quickly as possible. “Please, there's nothing I'd ever want more than to make you my wife. That was stupid of me to say. I'll never be happy if I'm not with you, my love.”

“I just don’t want to force this marriage on you. You need to want it as much as I do, otherwise it’s pointless.”

Heeseung almost chokes on air when he rushes out his answer even before you can properly finish your sentence. “I do want it. Please, you have to believe me.” 

“Really?”

Heeseung smiles at you softly as he wipes your wet cheeks with his thumbs. “Really. Scout’s honour.”

You breathe out, feeling relief, and look up at him with squinted, puffy eyes. “Sometimes I just wanna strangle you to death, Lee Heeseung.”

He chuckles lightly before pressing one last kiss to your cheek. “Aren't you just so adorable? You should add this to your wedding vows.”

“Maybe I’ll add this to your eulogy instead if you pull shit like that again.”

Heeseung clicks his tongue with a grin pulling on his lips. “Touché.”

PARK JAY

The atmosphere in the living room is so heavy that your chest starts to hurt. You’re standing barely two steps away from the man you love the most, yet you’ve never felt more far away from him than in this moment. 

His eyes – cold but still undoubtedly full of love, drill holes in the side of your head as you turn your face away from him to try and gather your thoughts.

Arguments with Jay were rare. You always tried to work things out immediately, keeping your heads cool. But something has broken over the last month and you can’t see each other eye to eye anymore. At the very beginning of your relationship you made a promise to never go to bed angry. To never leave things unresolved. Yet now Jay’s been sleeping on the couch for the past week, and you fail to understand what the fuck has happened to the two of you. 

And you can’t help but think that, maybe, sometimes love is just not enough. 

“You’re not even trying to find the middle ground anymore. All you do is snap at me the second I come home. I’m fucking tired of it! Would it hurt to give it a rest for a day?” 

The tension is almost palpable. You hate how you can’t seem to back away from any argument but only keep hurting him instead. 

“Put effort into our relationship first, then we’ll talk,” you spit out instead, against your better judgment.

“It’s funny coming from you who’s done nothing but put a fucking distance between us!”

“This doesn’t make any sense anymore, Jay. We need some time apart,” you finally speak into the dull silence, eyes casted downwards at the floor as your hand keeps twitching, only to finally grab for your ring finger and slip the silver band off of it. You didn’t think much of your action, hell, you didn’t even process it properly. 

Well, not until you hear the shaky exhale leave Jay’s lips. 

Silently, he presses his lips together and nods his head before turning on his heel and leaving the room. You listen intently to the shuffling, then ringing of the keys and eventually the door being shut. 

A moment of silence turns into minutes of you staring at the ring on your palm with tears burning your eyes mercilessly. 

With your heart falling low to your stomach, you drop down on the couch and tug on your hair slightly, cursing yourself for acting so mindlessly. 

You wallow in self pity in the dead quiet room. The shiny ring feels so heavy and burning in your clenched fist. You take in a deep breath, then quickly slide the band back onto your finger, feeling instantly shielded with it being on its righteous place again.

And just like that, you spend the next three hours on the verge of losing your sanity. With no word from Jay. He’s left your messages unread. He’s left your calls unanswered. 

You don’t know whether he’s okay or hurt or simply gone. All that combined is enough to leave you panicked and terrified, unable to have a second of peace. 

You never meant to take it this far. This – your words and rapid actions, that will forever remain as one of your biggest regrets. You don’t like the idea that you made your other half feel like you’ve taken him for granted. Or for what’s worse, like a person that you can use for unloading your frustration on. 

There’s this throbbing pain in your chest as you realize that maybe he’s not coming back because why would he if you can’t even love him properly?

Your fingers are bleeding from how hard you’ve been picking on your cuticles. 

And then you hear the jingle of keys and soon the front door opens quietly. You know that even after all of this he’s still being careful to not wake you up. It’s killing you how he thinks you’d ever be able to get a wink of sleep without knowing he’s safe. 

You’re quick to drop your phone on the couch and shoot up on your legs, rushing over to the door and throwing yourself on Jay’s neck. 

“I was so worried about you!” You gasp out, clinging onto your fiancé desperately as tears unknowingly make their way down your cheeks. “Please, don’t ever do that again!”

“Sorry, my phone died,” he replies after a second or two, bringing his arm up to wrap around your waist and keep you close to him. 

He’s still upset but he understands where you’re coming from, knowing well that if it was you instead of him he’d probably go insane from worry. 

He can feel your heart hammering against his chest, so he lifts his hand and strokes your hair to help you calm down. But then you start crying, feeling his gentle touch even after everything you said, that was enough to push you over the edge. You clench your trembling hands on his sweater as you burst out with choked sobs, slouching against his warm and comforting body. 

“I’m sorry, ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry,” you weep into his chest like a mantra and Jay can quite literally feel his heart cracking at your miserable state. 

“It’s okay,” he whispers, hot air hitting your ear before he presses a soft kiss to its tip. “Don’t cry anymore, honey. We’re okay.”

“I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve you,” you whimper quietly. “Please, don’t leave me.”

“Don’t say that,” he scolds you with a frown. Your whimpers twist his guts even more than your harsh words from before. “It’s not the first nor the last time we’ll have an argument. It’s not worth losing your pretty head over it, okay?” 

“I’m sorry,” you repeat one last time. “I promise I'll never take it off again. I’ll never lash out on you like that ever again too.”

Jay grabs your hand and runs his thumb over the thin silver band, the same one he was picking so carefully for weeks, and a small smile tugs on the corners of his mouth. He hates how shameful you sound. 

He’ll never tell you how the sight of you pulling your ring off your finger made him physically sick to his stomach. He can't have you feeling even worse than you already do. So instead he brings you close to him and rests his forehead on yours. 

“I’m so stupid,” you whisper quietly as you close your eyes, your heavy eyelashes letting go of another few droplets of crystal tears which Jay’s lips soak up instantly. “I don’t know what I’d do if you actually left.”

“You know me better than to think I’d let us break it off over such a petty fight.” And, yes, you do. But your lip wobbles with silent agony at the sole thought of that. “Hey,” he tries again as he presses a loving kiss to your red nose. “I’m not leaving, okay? How could I ever?” 

“I love you.”

With his thumb caressing your burning cheek so tenderly, you feel at peace again.

“I love you too,” he replies without skipping a beat. “No one can handle you as well as I do. And no one sees me for me like you do. We complete each other. We belong together.”

He kisses you silly then, until there’s no more tears left in your body and you’re barely able to breathe anymore. He kisses you until your legs give in and he swoops you up to carry you into your shared bed for the first time in what seems like forever.

He kisses you until it engraves in your mind that there’s no other person for him in this world but you.

SIM JAKE

“Baby, I already apologized.” A groan lingers at the back of his throat but for his own sake he stifles it inside. “I don’t know what else you want me to do.”

You sit on the edge of your shared bed and clench your fingers on the silky duvet. “How about you start showing up to things we both agreed on attending to?”

He runs his hand down his face. “I know. It just slipped my mind, that’s all. You know how busy I’ve been this week.”

“This shouldn’t be my business only, though. I mean, for christ’s sake, it’s our wedding! I would really appreciate it if you participated in something for once!”

Flowers and cake. That’s literally all you’ve asked of him to go and pick with you for the wedding reception. Knowing his tight schedule, you picked the date carefully so that it wouldn’t meddle with his work and you could even go grab some dinner afterwards. But your plans all went out the window when he didn’t even bother showing up or giving you a heads up text, standing you up yet another time when it comes to your wedding preparations.

You’re honestly getting tired of it.

“I’ll be there next time,” he assures you quickly as he nervously taps his fingers on the doorway of your bedroom. 

“You said you wouldn’t do that,” your voice wavers as your shoulders drop with resignation. With the back of your hand, you wipe off the tears that made their way down your cheeks. “You promised to help, Jake. But you left me alone with everything, as usual.”

“It’s not even that big of a deal. This can be rescheduled any time. Baby, stop stressin’ so much.”

“But it is a big deal to me!” You cry out, palm reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose. You breathe out heavily. “I don’t want to do everything by myself! We’re supposed to be in this together! If getting married means that I’m gonna be alone with all the responsibilities that you don’t consider important enough, I’m not even sure I still want it.”

To back up your words, your hand moves half-consciously to your ring finger and you twist the cool piece of jewelry in between your fingers. 

“No, no, no, no.” Jake moves quickly, nearly tripping over himself as he rushes towards you to desperately clasp your hand in his two and stop you from whatever the hell you were about to do. He drops to his knees in front of the bed, right at your feet. “Baby, you promised you’d never take it off.”

You’re at a loss of words as you look into his wide eyes, the seriousness of your actions only catching up to you now. You gasp quietly, eyes watering just like his, quickly relaxing your tensed hand in his and letting him slide the ring back down your finger, just where it belongs.

Silence envelopes the two of you, besides the sound of your sniffles. 

You feel awful. 

Jake feels even worse. 

Leaning forward, you press your face to his shoulder and melt instantly when he brings a hand to caress your hair. 

“I'm sorry,” you whisper, clenching your hand to feel the cool ring against your skin. “I don't know why I did that. I didn't mean to.”

“I know,” he soothes you just as softly. He stands up from the floor and carefully maneuvers the two of you so that you’re placed on his lap as he sits with his back against the headboard. “It's my fault. I'm sorry. I never meant to disregard your feelings like that.”

At the end of the day, both of you would rather set themselves ablaze than watch the other one hurting. 

You nod silently, heart pounding in your chest before you bring your arms up and throw them over his neck.

“I’m sorry I was so impulsive.”

“No. You did nothing wrong.” His soothing voice carries over the room, enveloping you with warmth. “I promise I'll be here whenever you want me to from now on. I don’t want you to feel neglected by me, especially now when you’re this stressed over the wedding. I won’t let you down, again.” 

“I just need a little help, that’s all,” you mumble tiredly into his skin.

“I know.” His warm lips press to your forehead lovingly. “I’m sorry for being an insensitive douche. It won’t happen again. I’ll take some days off next week, hm?”

The tears on your face dry slowly as your hold on him tightens. “I’d like that a lot.”

“Then it’s done. I'll be all yours and you’ll be all mine then,” he hums and noses at your cheek, finally bringing out a small giggle out of you. After all these years, he still melts at the sound. “I won’t let things get this out of hand again, YN. I promise.”

“Okay,” you whisper. Tilting your head up and bringing his down towards you, you join your lips in a kiss that you’ve been longing for for days. His movements are slow and careful as he tries to soak up as much of the moment as possible. 

His kisses slowly put your broken pieces back together. He never knew how much seeing you cry like this would hurt him. And he’ll make damn sure he won’t ever have to experience that again for as long as you're with him.

“If I have a life to spend, it'll only be with you, sweetheart,” he lowers his voice to match yours, cradling your cheek in the palm of his hand. “You're it for me. I'll never give you a chance to doubt that ever again.”

PARK SUNGHOON

“You’re never home! There’s always a hundred things more important to you than spending an hour of your time with me. Your fucking fiance! Are we really about to get married when you’re clearly so tired of me already?”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you finally voice out everything that’s been sitting on your chest for the past month. Things have not been working out well with the two of you, much to your despair. He’s been neglectful, always too busy to help you with anything �� even the wedding related things that you should’ve gotten done weeks ago. 

And you know that he’s swamped with work and it's not his fault. You understand everything. But to ask him to spare you an hour or two of his day shouldn’t be too much. It shouldn’t make him snap at you unlike what he just did the second he came back home. You slowly begin to lose your hope.

“God, have you always been this needy? Why can’t you accept that I can’t always put you first? No matter how much I’d want to, sometimes I just can’t! Deal with this!”

“Fucking- Fine.”

Your hand moves quicker than your brain, and the next thing you know, your shiny ring is being pulled off your finger and resting in the palm of your other hand. 

You can see the disbelief flashing through his face briefly before it completely morphs into a scowl. 

“You really think that this will solve the problem?” He asks, eyebrows narrowed as he glowers at you from across the room. “Really? Does that ring mean so little to you that you go and throw it away with any minor inconvenience?” 

You try to blink away the frustrated tears, hand raking up to brush your hair away from your face. “No, fuck, I just- I don’t know what to do anymore, Sunghoon. I feel like I’m the only one in this relationship. I need you to give me something more because whatever you’re doing now is not enough for me.”

“Well, I’m putting out everything I have, YN! I love you! If that’s still not good enough for you, then maybe it’s not meant to be.”

The silence that falls in the room doesn’t last long as your sudden sob pierces Sunghoon’s ears quickly, making his stomach drop to the soles of his feet. His heart wrenches and twists as the anger simmers down and evaporates from his body within a second, and he’s quickly coming back to his senses at the sight of you breaking down right in front of him. 

“Can’t you just try?” You cry into your hands, shielding your face away from your fiance. “That’s all I’m asking of you. Is it really so hard to try?”

No, it’s not. Sunghoon knows it without a second of thinking. It’s not too hard to try, never if it’s for you. And his throat dries so quickly when he basks in the weight of his words that finally made you break as well. 

“You don’t know how much it hurts to feel like you’re too much for your partner,” you wail with a small voice, shoulders trembling and hands quickly getting damp with tears. “You’ll never know how it is to feel unwanted, because you’ll never have to when you're with me. Because I love you, asshole, but now I’m doubting if you’re saying it back just for the sake of it.”

With air getting stuck in his throat, Sunghoon looks at you wide-eyed before quickly crossing the living room and enveloping you in his arms. His warmth wraps around you in what you've always considered to be safety, but now it just makes you cry more. 

He finds it hard to breathe. The hesitation in your eyes feels like a stab to his chest.

“Of course I still love you,” he says, voice muffled by your hair. 

He hates how he made you feel the opposite. He hates how you’re right and he never had to worry about any reassurement of such kind from your side because you’re just that good to him. And his heart breaks with the realization of how much of a lousy partner he’s been to you when all you ever were was nothing less than perfect.

So he places his hand on the back of your head and presses you even closer to his shoulder as you cry, his own eyes burning with tears at the sound of your sobs and sniffles. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, my darling,” he apologizes with a heavy heart, fearful of what’s about to come next. “I didn’t mean to neglect you this much. I could say that I’m tired and the work has been a lot lately, but I know these excuses are not enough to make up for my actions.”

You’re mad and hurt, but you love him and would never want to give up on him, so you wrap your arms around his middle and hold him almost as tight as he holds you, burying your wet face in his chest. 

“I love you more than anything, YN.” He pulls away from you only to cup your face and make you look at him. His long fingers wipe away the tears with gentle touch, soothing your stinging skin instantly. “You could never be too much for me. I want all of you. I promise I’ll do better. I’ll love you better.”

And when you’re looking up at him with these shiny eyes of yours, he closes the distance and presses a loving kiss to your swollen lips, hoping to take at least some of the pain away. He doesn’t think he can hold you any tighter. He can’t love you any stronger than right now, and it messes with his head how easily he could’ve had it all ruined only minutes ago. 

He’ll never take your love for granted ever again. Because if he did, he’d never be able to pick up the parts of whatever was left of him, and put himself back together ever again. 

You can feel his warm hand opening your closed palm before he takes the ring you've been clutching so tightly and holds it in between his fingers. 

“Can I put it back on, baby? Please.”

You nod wordlessly while you try to tame your tears. You hold your slightly trembling hand up to him. He takes it, gently, and watches as your bottom lip wobbles while he slides the ring on your finger just like he did months ago. 

“I'll never screw up like that again. You have my word for it.”

You sniffle quietly when he kisses you right on the cool band adorning your skin. “You better not, Park Sunghoon.”

His long fingers caress your cheek, wiping the remains of the tears away. “Can you forgive me, darling?”

You don't need to think long of an answer. “You know I can never stay mad at you. Even if you're a idiot, I'll never stop loving you. You have my whole heart, Hoon. Please, don't ever make me regret trusting you with it.”

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[jamespotterismydaddy]

On the Brink

joel miller x reader smut

description: you’ve been wanting him for so long but joel can’t bring himself to give you what you want, what you deserve. a near death experience makes him realize how much he needs you

WORD COUNT: 4,2 k words

WARNINGS: smut, angst, age gap, semi-public sex, it’s also fluffy and cute at the start so no complaining about the angst

Your eyes watch him from across the yard with that same look you’ve had for the past few months. He knows what it is. Of course he knows what it is- he’s not an idiot… but that doesn’t mean he can ever acknowledge it. You’re young. Not a child by any means but for god’s sake, you’re half his age. There will be no entertaining these longing glaces you throw his way.

It was innocent at first, or at least he thinks it was. You would knock on his door, ask for his advice when it came to things like shooting and whatnot. He liked being helpful, useful. He liked that it was him that you came to, not Tommy even if he was known to be a sharpshooter. He thought that you looking up to him was the part he liked; he’s starting to realize that what he really likes is your attention.

“You need some help there, Mr. Miller?” You ask sweetly as he pulls in the planks of wood. He didn’t even see you walk over.

Joel rolls his eyes. You know he doesn’t like it when you call him that. Makes him really feel his age. “Not from you, trouble.”

He was getting the supplies together because part of his front porch was rotting and he’d be damned if he fucked his knee up some more stepping through a weak plank. He could use the help, but he just doesn’t want your help.

“You getting sick of me already?” You say, giving him that ‘kicked puppy’ look that would make any man’s heart melt. He doesn’t like how it makes him feel more than sympathy.

“Course not.” He grumbles. “I did just see you this morning though.”

“What can I say… i’m clingy.” You shrug and grin at him with a smile so bright it could light up the sky.

“Go be clingy with somebody else.” He waves you off as he picks up his pencil and ruler to start marking lines on the wood. “I’m sure any man in Jackson would appreciate it.”

You stop for a moment, like you see something underlying in his words. “That seems to imply that you don’t think my attention is purely friendly.”

He rolls his eyes and scoffs but doesn’t give you any more of an answer.

“Besides, are you not a man in Jackson?” You ask teasingly, wanting to get more out of him.

He tries to keep his focus on his work so his attention doesn’t feed into your teasing. “That’s different.” He grumbles.

“Why is it different?”

He sighs, keeping his head low but letting his eyes rise up above his glasses to meet yours. “It’s different because i’m an old man in Jackson.”

You frown a little. You know what he means but you want him to explain it anyhow. “What are you saying?”

“I’m sayin’ that I can’t entertain…” He gestures with his hand. “... whatever this is that you’ve been doing for the past few weeks.”

He knows. Of course he knows; you haven’t been exactly subtle. You just never thought you would be able to make him say it out loud. “And what have I been doing?”

“Askin’ too many damn questions.” He grumbles under his breath and grabs his ruler to check his cut lines again. What is it all those carpenters say? Measure twice, cut once? That must’ve been a rule he would live by.

“What is it that i’m doing, Joel?”

He stops with his work now to look up at you properly. He seems like he’s about to speak but pauses for a moment, knowing that if he addresses this then it’s out in the open. He won’t be able to neatly pack up this conversation and put it in a safe where nobody can find it. Whatever is going on between the two of you… it’s pandora’s box.

But in the moment, he can’t find it in himself to care.

“You’re flirtin’ with me, sweetheart.”

“I am.” Is all you say in reply, looking into his eyes far too deeply.

He’s a little surprised and was half expecting you to deny it. “Well you shouldn’t.”

“How come?” Your quick little replies are irritating him now.

He rubs his forehead with his thumb, feeling frustrated. You’re not stupid and you know he’s twice your age. You know why you shouldn’t. You know it makes him feel wrong. So why act so clueless?

“It ain’t right.” He grumbles. “I’m too old for ya.”

“I don’t mind.” You say softly. “I would still like you if I was 10 years older.”

“It’s not about you liking me. It’s about what’s good for you.” He sighs. “And an old man ain’t it.”

“I hardly care about pre-outbreak morals, Joel.”

“I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about what you deserve. A man that can keep up with you, take care of you even 20 years from now. I can’t be that.” He looks almost nervous now. He feels the same way he did when he asked Tommy to take Ellie to the fireflies. It’s a different sense of care but he still doesn’t feel worthy for you in the same way that he didn’t feel worthy for her.

“It’s you that I want.”

He sighs.

“There’s plenty more age-appropriate men in Jackson who’d be chomping at the bit for a chance with you. You should go and take your pick of them.” He continues, trying his best to push you away. It’s not like he doesn’t want you. Christ, he really wants you. But he also cares about you and that means he’s gotta try to nudge you in the right direction.

“I took my pick. Currently, he’s being difficult.” You say and he scoffs as he tries not to think about how endearing he finds your quick wit.

“I said age-appropriate.”

“Well there’s no other man i’m interested in.” You understand why he’s trying to convince you that he’s not somebody you should spend your time on. Maybe there was a time when things like age were more important but it feels miniscule now in the great span of things and besides, you can tell when he’s being self destructive. “So it hardly matters how many there are to choose from.”

He furrows his brows. Joel can hardly understand why it would be him you would want. He originally thought whatever you were feeling was a passing fantasy due to proximity, but it’s starting to appear as if it’s more than that. You’re just so full of light; he doesn’t want to ruin that.

“Y’know I can probably finish up here on my own. I ‘preciate your help though.” It makes him uncomfortable to realize your attention isn’t going to be quite as fleeting as he thought. He doesn’t know how to react to it. It’s not that he wants to hurt you. He’s just never been a man of many words.

“Um… yeah okay. No problem.” You try not to show how upset you are but it hurts for him to brush you aside so easily. “Bye.”

You walk off, regretting trying to push his hand, regretting the conversation in general… and most definitely regretting that you agreed to fill in for Tommy on his patrol shift with Joel in the morning.

~~~~~

When he walks into the stables the next day, Joel’s ready to grumble to his brother about how he has no damn coffee left and slept like shit, but is stopped in his tracks when he finds you tacking up Bellard.

You don’t turn around to look at him, you already recognize the sound of his heavy footsteps and besides, who else would be in the stables at 8am?

“I promise i’m not trying to stalk you. I already agreed to cover Tommy’s shift. Ben’s still not feeling well.” You tighten the cinch on the horse, not wanting to have any more whoopsies involving your saddle half slipping off like when you were just learning to ride.

“Didn’t think you were.” He says, already able to tell how your voice is colder. You’re more closed off to him now.

You put your foot into the stirrup and swing your leg over so you’re sat on the saddle. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Joel.” It’s ironic really, they way you sound so vulnerable when you speak even though you are literally sitting up on your high horse.

“You don’t make me uncomfortable, sweetheart.” He says as he gets up onto his horse as well, giving her a light nudge with his heel to get her moving. “You could never make me uncomfortable.”

His false mirror words don’t fool you, the illusion shattered like glass by his nervous mannerisms. You know your conversation with him yesterday made things weird and you’re starting to wish you’d just ignored the whole thing like a normal person. You’d just really felt the need to defend yourself, never wanting to chase a man who doesn’t want you. Even if you have a feeling that he does.

But he ignores it. For the whole patrol he ignores it. The slight crack you saw in his demeanor has melded itself back together and he is back to the gruff man he usually is.

What you don’t see is his watchful eye, ever on you, protectively. You don’t know that it’s the same way that he watches Ellie and Tommy. The only people he would risk everything for, the only people that he makes sure are safe before himself. But it isn’t quite the same, is it? There’s something more in his gaze as it’s cast upon you, a hint of the same longing you have when your eyes fall on him.

“Did you hear that?” Your question puts him on alert right away. He tries to listen and he thinks his old ears are failing him before he hears the crash. It’s coming from a cabin east of Jackson, one that’s been checked through multiple times, even by Joel himself. While patrol routes are changed often, buildings are still checked regularly for anyone that might be hiding out. Clickers are of course dangerous but thinking, intelligent humans are much worse.

“Stay here. I’ll get closer and see if it’s anything to worry about.” He says, like it’s a command.

“I’m your partner, not your sidekick. I won’t let you go in there alone just because you don’t think I make good backup.”

“Jesus, woman ya really think that’s why I want you to stay behind?” You give him a look that says that’s exactly what you think but he doesn’t have time to validate you when there’s a chance that something dangerous is in that cabin right now. “Just follow at a distance then at the very least.”

That’s enough for you so you nod and the both of you hop off your horses and tie them up, not wanting them to spook at the first sign of whatever is in that cabin.

The two of you approach slowly and you try not to flinch at the crashing sounds so you can hold your gun straight. You also don’t want Joel to sense your fear. It’s not helpful for him to be worrying about you. You won’t be a distraction. He moves around the side of the cabin to look through the window and mouths the word ‘infected’ to you, holding up three fingers. You nod to show your understanding and he starts to make his way back, likely to come up with an action plan.

Though he barely makes it two feet when one of the horses whinnies. You both freeze. It wasn’t that loud, right? How good could an infected’s hearing possibly be?

Your answer comes moments later when they burst through the front door, but they don’t hear Joel. You’re the one who is in direct line of the horses.

“Shit.” You breathe out as you aim your gun and make a shot for the one in front, missing the head but hitting it in the shoulder. A shoulder shot doesn’t stop a runner.

“Goddamn it.” Joel acts quick, putting a bullet through the one closest to him with easy precision. The infected drops to the ground.

The one closest to you is still moving fast and you know you need to make this shot because if Joel misses, the last one will be on you before you can even think. You keep your hands steady, too pumped full of adrenaline to shake like you were before, and you pull the trigger.

You hear a gunshot, but it isn’t yours as Joel takes down the other runner. Your gun never fired.

Because your gun is jammed.

You pull the trigger again, and again, frantic now.

It’s no use so you drop the useless weapon. You look down for a moment to draw your knife but it’s too late as the infected tackles you to the ground.

“Joel!” The call rips out from your throat and Joel is sure he’s never heard such terror in anyone’s voice before. Well… not so sure.

You hold the infected back as well as you can, knowing that it’s over if you’re bitten, but you don’t have to push it back for long.

Joel’s gun fires and the shot rings true as the mindless flesh creature falls off next to you. A headshot taken from just the right position so the bullet wouldn’t graze you.

“Are you hurt?” The fear in his eyes matches your own as he kneels in front of you and seems to check you for injury over anything else.

Then he pauses.

“Are you bit?”

The thought comes to you at the same time. You were so dazed during the attack that it’s something you actually have to think about.

“I um… no.” You stumble over your words for a moment before speaking more confidently. “No, it didn't bite me.”

“Good.” He nods and moves on quickly, helping you to your feet.

He starts to move around, checking the infected, checking the house. He’s not focused on you anymore, like he wants to be distracted from the thought.

“One of them probably got bit a day or two back. Didn’t tell his friends and then…” He trails off, gesturing to the bodies. “This happened. Don’t think it’s something to worry about too much though. Probably an isolated event.”

He explains, but he’s rambling. Joel Miller doesn’t ramble. The near death experience is brushed under the rug, but you won’t have that.

“Joel.” You start but he cuts you off.

“I can write up the report for it. I know that’s something you’re not a fan of.” It’s idle talk, nothing of value.

“Joel.” You say his name more firmly now and he looks up at you. “I almost died.”

He clenches his jaw, the tenseness in the conversation now unavoidable. You walk closer and it takes everything in him to not step away. He wants to leave, wants to push it down, but you almost died. He can hardly wrap his mind around it. If he had shot that runner a second later, it would have bitten you, at the very least, and his next bullet would’ve been in your head.

“I know.” He grumbles.

“Do you? Because you won’t look me in the eye.” There’s desperation in the way you look up at him and it’s like he’s staring through you instead of at you.

He lets out a breath and it kills you because you can’t tell what he’s feeling. There’s emotion in his eyes but you just don’t know which one.

“Please don’t shut down on me.” Your hand rises to touch his shoulder and he feels warmth bloom in his chest. He hasn’t felt that in a long time.

His eyes finally flicker down to yours and then to your lips for just a moment. He should think about what he’s doing, he knows that. Your age should be enough to put him off, but he almost lost you only minutes ago.

He won’t deny himself any longer.

Joel’s hand lifts to your chin and your eyebrows twitch slightly in confusion as he tilts your chin up. You part your lips to speak but don’t get the chance because his mouth is now on yours. All his hunger and need and desire finally come out as he kisses you harshly. His other hand finds your waist and he pulls you against him, never breaking the kiss. It’s like he doesn’t need air to breathe as he pushes his lips against yours and walks you back until a tree stops you. His tongue pushes into your mouth and he groans when feeling yours push back.

He pulls back and you worry that he regrets it, thinking he acted irrationally or emotionally. Those worries are quelled when he focuses his attention on your neck, leaving gentle kisses and sucking on the soft skin just the right amount so it won’t leave any marks. You let out a soft moan as his fingertips graze up your thigh before gripping it firmly and lifting it up against him.

“I need you, Joel.” You whisper so softly that he’s not even sure he heard you correctly.

“Hm, honey?” He still isn’t fully focused as he trails kisses up your jawline.

“I need it.” You whine a bit and he frowns.

“No.” He murmurs against your skin, kisses so soft and featherlight that you can’t be convinced he’s even touching you. “Not here. You deserve better than here.”

“Please. I’ve been waiting for so long.” You slip your hand under the hem of his shirt. “Been so patient.”

A hint of a smile graces his face. “Patient? Sweetheart, you’re begging me to fuck you in a forest in the middle of our patrol.”

“You’re the one who kissed me.” Your hand slides up his chest. “You gotta finish the things you start, Mr. Miller.”

His hand grabs your other thigh and he lifts you up so you’re pushed against the tree. “You know I don’t like it when you call me that.”

You bite your lip, enjoying the feeling of him lifting you up with ease, like he’s got something to prove. “I know.”

“Then you should learn to watch your mouth.”

You smirk, knowing just how easy it is to rile him up. “Why don’t you watch it for me?”

He huffs as if your bratty little comments annoy him, but you know he likes it. It’s easy to tell by the way his lips find yours once again. His moves are messy and imprecise. It’s so unlike him to be so reckless but it’s you that brings it out of him.

Hands are pulling at clothes and you’re quickly at a point where your pants are off enough for him to touch you. His fingers waste no time pushing past your underwear to tease you. The movements are slow now, just enough to leave you wanting for more.

“Joel.” You try to scold but it comes out more like a breathy moan.

“Hmm?” He’s not focused on your face anymore, no matter how pretty it might be. He’s more concerned with how many fingers he can push inside you before you start to whine.

“Joel.” You pout again as he feels your wetness pooling in his palm.

Three then. He thinks to himself, calculating how long he’ll have to wait to let you adjust to his cock before he can fuck you how he wants. But he already knows he’ll be pushing your limits.

“Shh, baby. Clearly, you’re not as patient as you claim to be.”

You can’t even reply, not with how good it feels when his fingers start to curl inside you. Joel continues the motions for a minute or so but it’s not what you want. It feels so damn good but this isn’t the way you want to finish.

You start to push him away and he stops as soon as he sees the hesitation.

“Everything alright?” He asks and your heart melts at the tenderness in his voice.

“I wanna feel something a little bigger.”

He rolls his eyes. “No damn patience.” He unbuckles his belt and starts to unbutton his jeans. “I’ll give you what you want then.”

He pulls his jeans halfway down his thighs- his very nice thighs- so he can pull himself out of his boxers. There’s no more slow, teasing actions. He wants to show you what your impertinence gets you. Lifting you back up with just one hand, he uses the other to guide his cock to your entrance.

As the head pushes in, he watches your face so he can see how you struggle to take it. You won’t speak up though, not after you whined and begged for him to fuck you. He might be a lot bigger than you’ve had before but that doesn’t mean you can’t take it.

Joel doesn’t want to miss the look on your face as he pushes in but can’t help but glance down. The sight of your desperate pussy sucking him in more and more is almost enough for him to finish there and then, but he holds off. He won’t let this be something you regret.

“Fuck.” He groans as he pushes the rest of the way into you with a sharp thrust. You whimper, hiding your face in his neck. “It’s okay, baby. You’re doing so well.”

The praise makes your cheeks heat and he starts to pull himself back out again before you hear the slick squelch of another deep thrust.

“Shit, Joel.” The stretch stings but it’s a good hurt.

“I know. I was trying to prepare you but you never fucking listen.” His words sound sympathetic, no matter how harsh they are, but the way he punishes you with his dick seems to contrast that.

His hands hold up both your thighs as he leans you against the tree for more leverage so he can pull his hips back and fuck into you deeper and deeper.

“Mmm.” You moan, unable to form thoughts, let alone words.

The way the head of his cock hits just the right spot before slipping up to kiss your cervix makes you feel pleasure in a way you couldn’t previously fathom. You’ve never been fucked like this before and it just makes it oh so better because it’s him fucking you.

Joel’s deep brown eyes feel like they’re burrowing into your soul with the way he’s watching you. He lives for it, your reactions, every little sound you make. It all makes him harder as he slams into you rougher with each thrust.

“You feel so perfect, sweetheart. Taking me so damn well, finally learning how to listen.”

“Dick.” You grumble and he chuckles.

“I’m not the one who begged for this.” His hips push against yours. You didn’t think he’d be able to get even deeper but he does. “Fucking begged, honey.”

“I’m not the one who let go of all my morals for it though, either.”

It’s a dangerous thing for you to point out, almost threatening enough for him to stop. But it’s also another thing he likes about you. You always bite back. There is even some part, some sick part, of him deep down that enjoys how wrong it is. It enjoys that you, being so beautiful and smart and full of life… and so young still want him. You could have any man between your thighs but it’s Joel whose fucking you.

“I’m close, Joel.” You say after his fingers have crept down to rub between your legs. He needs you to finish first, needs it bad.

“Cum for me. Wanna feel you squeezing around me. Wanna know how you love it.”

His pace never falters as he leads you to the edge, drawing in and out of you with a pace that you didn’t think a man his age could hold. It just feels so good; you want it to last forever, but all good things end eventually.

“F-Fuck.” You moan and he feels it as your walls tighten around his cock. It almost makes him cum instantly but he pushes through enough to lead you through your high.

You’re panting now as he pulls out, spilling himself onto the forest floor. You look up at him as he lets you down gently. You’re scared, scared that it’s over now, scared that this was a one time thing. And he just won’t fucking look at you.

“Joel?” Your voice cracks. God, you hate how you can’t control it.

His head snaps back right away and when you look into his eyes… it’s not regret that you see. “It’s okay, trouble. You did good.” There is something more in the way he comforts you. “We’re good.”

It’s not much of an explanation but it relieves you. You understand him and though he didn’t speak many words, you know what lies between the lines. This isn’t the end of what’s between you.

comment to be added to taglist

@grayandthyme @littledes1re just thought I’d tag my new moots because y’all’s writing inspired me to get back into it :)

[stellamarielu]

hi hello everyone! i’m ovulating and can’t stop thinking about getting knocked up by jack abbot…

It’s 7:12am. You're looking over the status board, deciding which patient will be your first of the day, when McKay casually announces the arrival of bagels in the break room.

You reply that you haven’t been able to eat breakfast for the last few days. Telling her that something about the meal has been making you constantly nauseous. You couldn’t even get down one bite of oatmeal yesterday morning without gagging.

She just laughs. Telling you that your predicament reminds her of when she was pregnant with her son.

She reminisces on the months of not being able to keep down any food before noon, while sipping on her 12 ounce drip, and all you can do is stare at her with wide eyes while your mind runs laps trying to remember when your last period was.

You can practically feel Jack’s stare on you from his position on your left. There's no doubt, he can hear the conversation between you two as he types up his last report of the day.

Your gaze instinctively darts to his.

Neither of you say a word as you watch him bite at the inside of his check, pursing his lips, fighting back some sort of smile.

His expression holds something between question and revelation, as his eyes float back down to the computer in front of him again.

There’s a calming factor in the glance shared between you. Something in his amused expression instantly calms the nerves flourishing in your stomach at the mere thought of an unplanned pregnancy.

You look back up at the names of patients waiting to be seen, and pretend not to be struck with the realization that your period was, in fact, four days late.

It's a busy morning, there's no time for you and Jack to share a moment of privacy before he's giving you one last look of reassurance, and placing a gentle hand on your lower back as he brushes past you with his things.

As soon as you get a moment, you pull out your phone to send him a text— trying to figure out what to even send him before landing on a simple, I'll pick up a test on my way home.

Not even ten seconds later his reply comes across your screen,

Already on it.

And then another.

I love you.

[tojisteddy]

Where the Flowers Bloom | cw: fluff, shy!reader, age gap (reader mid 20s, John late 30s).

I just cannot stop thinking about Shy!reader who has an array of hair accessories. From clips to pins to silk scrunchies, barrettes, and bows— you’ve got it all and in different shapes too.

There are fruit shaped clips, flower shaped clips, butterflies, stars, music notes, vintage hair combs, sea shells or pearls. And you put them in very meticulously so they all stay in place. People can’t help but notice them as you walk by, they’re super cute, and they make you look even prettier than you already do.

John can’t help but notice how they fit you so well, how nice they look as if real flowers are pinning back your curls to show your pretty eyes, or holding your your hair in a mid pony with a large star claw clip— fucking adorable. John doesn’t know for certain that you like him not just yet but he can’t help but love the idea of you being his. Not just you steeling glances across the rooms, having small talk in the break room. Buying each other lunch when the other is busy.

But he can’t help the leering eyes that surround you, they wander too much, and for too long. John passes a quaint little shop while he buys dinner that reminds him of you.

Something to show them that your Johns, and only his.

No you’re not. You’re not a possession…

He debates about it, turning away and to the cute clip that caught his pretty blue eyes from the gallery window. Well, it’s just be a little sign to show them to back off. Something only he’d know about. Just this.

“For you.” He sets down the yellow gift bag on your desk, right beside the stack of files, you had piled up.

You blink once. Slow. Eyes wandering from the bag, then back at him. This wasn’t lunch.

“Really? For me?” You unconsciously look at him with those big brown eyes, your heart pumping faster- cur-thunk, cur-thunk, cur-thunk.

You remove the glittery gift paper, reaching in the bag without looking in, “Just saw it in the window and I thought, ‘this has [+]’s name on it.’” He clears his throat, shifting on his feet, watching as you blankly look at the item. “What do you think?”

“It’s very nice John thank you.” You nodded, fingers tracing over the stunning lilac orchid hairpin. It was gorgeous. Something you knew for a fact, you didn’t have before. Your brain was swooning, butterflies almost flying out of your stomach. John Price, had given you a gift, a gift that you really liked!

Be normal, be normal, be normal. be cool, calm and collected- collectedcoolcalm!—

“Yeah I’ll wear it later.” You breath out your excitement out of your mouth but it didn’t do anything to your heart. Your eyes were still on it as you gently wrapped it back up and carefully put it in the bag. Then back at John.

There’s a small frown on his lips as he gives you a quick goodbye. Scratching his neck while you look at his back confused.

He didn’t think you liked it, at first.

But there you were, wearing the lilac orchid pin in the break room. And then the next day, along with the peal hair comb in a meeting, and then the next day, and the next— till two weeks passed.

And you were there, infront of his office, adjusting the pin ever to perfectly with one hand, another stack of files in the other. Fingers grazing over it with the widest smile he’d seen on your beautiful face. You can’t help but look at it again through the glare of the painting.

So fucking cute.

“You like your pin don’t you?” John interrupts your thoughts, scaring the living shit out you, you almost drop the files in your hands.

Like you took his old heart, and squeezed it.

“But you like it, yeah? Was a bit worried you wouldn’t like it sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. You. A sweetheart. John called you— your heart leaped out.

“Why wouldn’t I? It’s so nice I haven’t been able to put it down! I mean- not that I’ve been wearin it the whole time, haha, I wouldnt— not that yours is better than the others I have… Not that it’s bad or anything! It’s pretty, it makes me feel- like- I’m very greatful, thanks again John.“ you ramble, bashing your head into a wall internally. Why the hell did you say all that?

Your cheeks flush, immediately looking elsewhere, you plop the stack of files in Johns hands. “H-have a good one John!” And you scurry off just as darling as you usually do.

A smirk grows on John’s lips, rubbing at his beard as you walked down the hall.

A damn cute bumble bee you were, even if you didn’t realize it. You were making the old guy fall on his knees for you.

John would just have to have you.

a/n: shy!reader, my cutesy rambling baby.

most recent masterlist more shy!reader

[cod-bin]

why me?

fuckboy!simon x nerdy!reader

part 1 part 2

a/n: yay it’s here!!

wc: 4k?? i think…

cw: slight mentions of sex, heavy swearing by simon, angst (only a little), angry!simon (not at reader), jealousy

You’re coughing again.

It’s sharp, chest-deep. Comes from somewhere buried, somewhere tired. You smother it with a pillow like that’s going to do anything, like that’s going to make it invisible.

But it’s not. Not to him.

The door slams open so hard it rattles the hinges.

You jolt upright, breath caught, eyes wide.

And there he is.

Simon Riley—hood up, eyes black, jaw locked so hard it might crack.

You open your mouth to say something, anything, but he’s already stepping inside like a goddamn thunderstorm.

“You’re sick again,” he snaps.

You blink. “I’m fine—”

“Bullshit,” he growls. “You’ve been hacking your lungs out for days, and you just—what? Sit in here and hope it’ll stop on its own?”

He’s never looked more furious.

Not the bar fights. Not the game nights gone wrong. Nothing has touched the fury in his eyes right now, the kind that’s not about being mad at you—it’s about not being able to stop caring.

You push your blanket tighter around your shoulders. “I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

Simon’s face contorts. “A big deal—? You can barely breathe!”

He starts pacing. Three steps. Turn. Three more.

“You do this every fucking time,” he mutters. “You hole up in here, you act like it’s nothing, and you don’t tell anyone.”

“I didn’t think—”

“You never think,” he spits, eyes flicking to you. “You think being quiet makes you small enough no one’ll notice? Is that it?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“No. But you act like it.” He stops pacing. Looks right at you. Voice drops, low and trembling with something more dangerous than rage.

“You act like no one sees you.”

Your mouth goes dry.

The air is heavy now. Close.

“I do,” he says, softer now, but it sounds worse like that. Like it costs him something.

“I see you hiding. I hear you coughing. I watch you disappear into yourself like it’s safer that way. Like you think someone’ll care less if you’re quiet enough.”

You can’t meet his eyes.

But he doesn’t stop.

“You think I haven’t noticed you pulling back? The way you move around this place like you’re an afterthought. Like you’re fucking disposable.”

“Simon—”

He cuts you off, voice rough.

“No. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to shrink and then pretend no one saw it.”

Your breath stutters. “Why do you even care?”

He laughs, but it’s bitter. Broken.

“Why do I care?” He shakes his head like you’ve just asked if the sky is blue. “Because it drives me insane. You walk around here like a ghost and I—”

He stops.

You’re trembling a little now. Not from fear. From the storm of it. From all of this finally spilling out.

He steps closer.

“You think I don’t notice you?” he breathes.

That voice—low, deadly quiet. Not loud. Just… inevitable.

His eyes are wild.

“You think I don’t see how you flinch when someone laughs too loud? Or how you stop breathing when I have someone over? Like if you hold your breath long enough, you’ll vanish.”

You open your mouth, heart thudding.

“I see it all,” he snarls. “I see every time you look at me like you hate me. Like you wish I’d stop. Like maybe, if I didn’t exist, it’d be easier for you to stop wanting me.”

That last word hangs heavy between you.

Wanting.

You don’t know who moves first, but he’s in front of you now. Staring. Breathing hard.

Then—

He grabs your arm.

You gasp.

Not because it hurts—it doesn’t. His grip is firm, yes, but grounding. Like if he doesn’t touch you, he’ll lose the thread of this entire thing.

He drags you up to stand. The blanket falls away. You’re standing there in an oversized hoodie and socks, blinking at him like you’ve never seen him before.

“I can’t fucking take it,” he mutters. “Watching you shrink. Watching you disappear in plain sight.”

“You’re the one who disappears,” you whisper.

His eyes flash.

“You think that’s on purpose?”

“I don’t know, Simon! I don’t know anything with you!”

He steps forward. You step back.

He matches you, one-to-one, until your knees hit the edge of the bed and you have nowhere to go.

“You think I like this?” he growls. “You think I like being an asshole to the one person who actually fucking sees me?”

“I don’t see you,” you say, but it’s a lie, and you both know it.

He leans in.

“Liar.”

The breath leaves your lungs.

Then, out of nowhere—he kisses you.

It’s violent. Not in the way that hurts, but in the way that grips. That shakes something loose in your chest. It’s all teeth and frustration and finally.

You grab the front of his hoodie and drag him closer.

He makes a sound deep in his throat. A groan. Something guttural. It sounds like surrender and defeat and want, all rolled into one.

You break apart only because you have to breathe.

He doesn’t step back.

His forehead presses to yours.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he mutters. “I never say the right thing. I always push too hard or run too fast.”

“You came in here,” you whisper.

“Because I couldn’t not.”

He closes his eyes, brow furrowed.

“I’ve been watching you,” he says. “I watch you every day. I memorize your silences. Your footsteps. The way your door clicks at night.”

Your throat tightens.

“I see you,” he says again, softer now. “Even when you try not to be seen.”

You lean your head against his chest. Let yourself breathe him in—smoke and cold air and home.

For a minute, he doesn’t say anything. Just holds you like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers.

Then, finally—

“I’m gonna fuck this up,” he murmurs.

You smile against him. “Probably.”

His arms tighten.

“But I’m still here.”

You nod.

“You’re still here.”

And that, for now, is everything.

The silence after the kiss is deafening.

Simon’s still so close your lips almost brush when you breathe. His chest rises and falls like he’s just run a mile. You don’t say anything, and neither does he. The air between you is heavy—too heavy. He hasn’t let go of your wrist.

He does now.

Pulls back like the heat of your skin just burned him.

His eyes dart away, jaw tight again, but not from anger this time. He looks shaken. Like he’s regretting something already, even though you kissed him back. Even though you’re still standing there, lips parted, chest heaving.

You shift, wrapping your arms around yourself like armor. Not because you want to push him away. But because if you don’t, you think you might fall apart.

“Simon…” you start.

But he turns.

He moves to leave. Like always.

Like he just did something reckless and now he has to go pretend he didn’t feel anything at all.

Except—

He stops.

Hand still on the doorknob. Back tense.

You wait, breath caught in your throat.

“Do you want me to stay?”

The question is so soft it almost doesn’t reach you. But it does. It lands in your chest like a dropped stone.

You blink. “What?”

He turns halfway, eyes low. That mask of his is gone. There’s nothing behind it but vulnerability, cracked and real. His voice comes quieter the second time.

“I’ll stay… if you want.”

Your room is still. The world outside might not exist.

You nod.

He doesn’t say anything else. Just steps back in and closes the door with more care than he’s ever shown it before. Doesn’t slam it. Doesn’t speak. Just locks it, slowly, and turns to face you again.

And then — without waiting for permission — he toes off his boots, crosses the room, and climbs into your bed.

You stand there frozen, watching the massive weight of him settle onto the mattress, hoodie rumpled, expression unreadable.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, barely audible.

You hesitate. “You don’t have to—”

“I know,” he says quickly. “I know I don’t.”

He shifts back against your pillows, long legs stretching out, gaze flicking up to yours.

“I just… don’t want to leave you like that. Not tonight.”

You move toward him slowly, like you’re dreaming.

When you slide under the blanket beside him, it’s awkward at first. He’s all muscle and warmth, not knowing where to put his hands. You curl into yourself out of habit — defensive — but then his arm reaches out, slow and tentative, and hooks around your waist.

It’s not graceful. Not practiced.

But it’s real.

You stiffen, just for a second.

Then exhale and melt into him.

His hand doesn’t wander. It stays right there — solid, steady, like a promise he doesn’t know how to voice.

The minutes pass without a word.

It’s the quietest it’s ever been between you, and somehow the loudest too.

You can feel his breath in your hair, warm and uneven. His heartbeat against your spine. The barest twitch of his fingers every time you shift.

“You okay?” he murmurs eventually.

“Are you?” you whisper back.

He huffs out a breath. You can’t see his face, but you can feel his smile — tired, wry, a little broken.

“I’m trying.”

You close your eyes.

You’re so tired. Sick, worn down, emotionally wrung out. But the warmth of him behind you… it’s something you’ve never let yourself need before. Never thought you could have.

“You don’t have to fix me,” you whisper.

“I’m not trying to.”

His voice is low. Honest. Frayed at the edges.

“I just wanna be here.”

You press your fingers into his forearm where it wraps around your stomach. Just to make sure he’s still real.

After a long while, he speaks again. This time it sounds like it’s been clawing its way out of him all night.

“I don’t… do this. I don’t stay. I don’t hold people. I don’t let them stay.”

Your throat tightens. “Then why me?”

He doesn’t answer right away.

But when he does, it’s the most open he’s ever been.

“Because you make me want to.”

You swallow hard. His words are simple, but they land like they’re sacred.

Another long pause. The kind that feels like it matters.

“You don’t think you’re worth much,” he adds. “But you are. I see you. All the fucking time. When you don’t think anyone’s looking.”

You shift a little, pressing closer. “I see you too.”

His arm tightens around you instinctively.

You let the silence settle again. This time, it feels softer. Warmer. Like maybe it could stay a while.

Eventually, your eyes start to slip closed.

And Simon doesn’t move.

He stays right there — in your bed, against your back, breathing slow, fingers twitching like he’s trying to memorize the shape of you.

And for once, the apartment isn’t so cold.

Your sheets are still warm from him. That kiss still on your mouth, smudged like something sinful — and then, just like that, he pulled back, awkwardly sat up like he was leaving, and stared at you like he was furious with himself for it.

He’d started to say something — but it stuck in his throat, like every word was too risky to set free.

And then you were both just breathing.

You feel him move again, the mattress dipping as he shifts. You hadn’t realized he was staying. He’d sat there on the edge for what felt like forever, silent and tense — but now he’s twisting around, one hand bracing himself on the bed.

Then?

Simon Riley climbs in beside you.

Again.

Slowly. Like you might stop him. Like he’s scared you might not want him there.

You turn your head. He’s right next to you now, both of you under the same blanket. He smells like cold air and aftershave and something else, something quiet. His arm brushes yours — and he flinches.

You feel small beside him.

“I can leave,” he says after a beat. Rough, low. But there’s something in it. A crack. “If this is too much.”

You shake your head before you even know what you’re doing.

“No,” you say. Voice raspier than normal, because the fever’s still lingering and your throat hurts and you’ve barely spoken all day. “Stay.”

Simon doesn’t respond with words. He just shifts a little closer, moving slow. One arm curls behind your back, pulling you gently toward him, and you follow like it’s gravity, your head resting on his chest.

It’s… soft.

Dangerously so.

You feel his fingers press into the fabric of your shirt like he’s grounding himself there. Holding you like he’s scared you might drift away.

You don’t know what this is.

You don’t know why he’s doing this.

Which is what scares you the most.

You’re quiet for a long time. His fingers are stroking the curve of your arm now, light and absent, but still real enough to make you ache.

Then — stupidly, too softly — you whisper:

“You hook up with so many girls.”

You feel him stiffen. Just slightly.

You shouldn’t have said it. But the words are already there. Floating in the air between your mouths.

You push on, voice barely a breath.

“You could have anyone. I don’t… I don’t get why you’d pick me.”

Silence.

It stretches out so long it hurts.

You feel your stomach twist. Regret like a second fever under your skin. Simon doesn’t do this — he doesn’t stay. And here you are, ruining it.

But then — finally — he exhales. Not angry. Not dismissive.

Just quiet.

“I didn’t pick anyone.”

You blink.

“I didn’t want to,” he adds, softer now. “Didn’t think I could.”

He’s speaking like this is costing him something. Like every word is peeled out from somewhere he never shows.

“I don’t even know what I’m doing with you,” he admits. “It’s not like—fuck. I don’t do this.”

You press your face a little harder into his chest.

“I know.”

He swallows. You feel the movement against your cheek.

“But you…” His fingers curl gently into the back of your shirt. “You’re not like the others.”

You stiffen.

“I don’t mean it like that,” he says quickly. “I mean—you look at me like I’m not already a lost cause. You… talk to me like you think I can be better.”

You don’t say anything. But your hand shifts, brushes his arm — a silent response.

“I didn’t notice,” he continues, voice more hoarse now, “how fucking much I watched you. How much I needed to.”

You can’t move. Can’t speak.

“I’d bring someone home, and they’d be… whatever. Perfect. Loud. Beautiful. Easy.”

The words sting. But his voice is heavy with something else.

“But none of ‘em ever made me feel like this. Not like you. You’re in the room and it’s like—fuck, I don’t know. I’m twenty goddamn feet underwater.”

You don’t realize you’re crying until he notices first — you feel his arm curl tighter around you, thumb brushing the edge of your jaw.

“Hey,” he says, voice breaking a little. “I didn’t mean to—shit. I’m not good at this. I don’t know what you need me to say.”

You shake your head into him.

“I don’t need anything. I just…”

You sniff. A soft sound.

“I don’t get it. I’m sick all the time. I look like hell. I barely talk. I’m not fun. I’m not anything.”

Simon pulls back just enough to look at you. You can barely meet his eyes.

And then his hand cups your cheek, and his mouth is pressing gently into your forehead. A kiss so quiet you nearly miss it.

“Don’t say that,” he mutters. “Don’t ever fuckin’ say that again.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. Swallow thick.

“Why not?”

He looks down at you, something tortured in his face.

“Because you’re everything to me right now.”

The words hit you like a blow.

You blink, stunned. Your breath stutters.

Simon lets it sit there. Lets it echo.

Then he leans in again — not all at once this time. Slower. Gentler.

And kisses you.

It’s different than before.

This time, it’s not rough or angry. Not a clash of desperation. It’s quiet. Reverent.

Like you’re fragile.

Like you matter.

His lips trace yours like he’s memorizing the shape. One of his hands cups the side of your face — the other drifts down your arm, your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space between you at all.

You melt into it. Into him.

When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours again.

“I don’t know how to be soft,” he says. “But I want to try. With you.”

You nod — just a little — because you’re scared if you speak you’ll shatter.

You let him kiss you again. And again.

You let yourself believe, just for now, that this moment is real. That he means it.

That you’re the one he wants.

Even if it’s messy. Even if it’s complicated.

He’s here. In your bed. Holding you like he’s never going to let go.

And that’s enough. For now.

part 4

☆taglist☆

@little-mini-me-world @h0lydrag0ns @just-lost-inbetween-worlds @pixiellove @fruitymoonbeams-blog @jokerivory @arrowacer @4ri3n @yasmin-003 @charliehunnamsleftsock @strawberrymilk99 @queenoflaflames @xigua2kuai5yijin @arnnf @genea-myers @elixir-of-dreams @turtlegreentia @pinkembodiment @bbygirl9 @echo9821 @illyanam1011 @luciferstempest @lostintransist @dethspllz @letstryagaintomorrow @hypertail @cr0wbrz @enfppuff @elegantangelenthusiast @trashprincss @youngandweird @mafer383 @eremika104 @avgdestitute @poshestpigeon

a/n: taglists are stressful af omg 😭😭

[sudsnribbons]

Something sweet | D.W

Girldad!Dean Winchester x Babysitter!Reader

MDNI

Wordcount: 2,704

Warnings: Use of petnames, Biting, Unprotected pinv (wrap it before you tap it), dean being dean, oral (f receiving), DBF!Dean, Age gap (reader is 20, dean is late 30’s), Angst, Hand kink, Creampie, Size kink (if you squint), I think that's it!

A/N: Dean would be such a girl dad you CANNOT change my mind. I'm a Dean girlie so I feel like it's easier for me to write with him opposed to Sam. That being said, I hope you enjoy this. I had a blast working on it.

A/N2: I posted this, no joke 30 minutes later i was in an ambulance 🥴

part two

You had just gotten off of work. Your 9-5 has drained you. Same papers, day after day. If you were honest you could have just skipped dinner, and went to sleep. God knows you need it, but here you are. 

Walking into the grocery store to pick up a few things for a quick dinner. Deciding to roast some chicken, you stopped by the produce to pick up a few odds and ends for your lunch the next few days. While you were scoping out the best cantaloupe to buy, brown pigtails adorned with pink bows came into your vision. The little girl tugged on your blouse, “I think I lost my daddy.” She mutters shyly. Immediately dipping down to a crouch you tried to comfort her, “Well sweetheart what does he look like? Where did you see him last?”. The girl, who couldn't have been more than 6 years old, began to describe her father to her best ability. During the little exchange, her father came from the chip aisle, seemingly anxious. He breathed out in relief when he finally saw her again, “Babygirl where did you run off to?” He picked her up, setting her in the cart. “I wanted strawberries, then you were gone.” She pouted, “Sweetheart we could’ve gotten you strawberries you just have to ask.” he looked up from the girl to you, “Thank you so much, I’m so sorry.” You smiled at the man, “No problem she wasn’t a bother.” looking down to the girl you smiled again. He thanked you again and you both went about your shopping. 

That night in the midst of making dinner, he was all you could think about. You didn't even know his name yet the thought of him consumed you. Dinner was silent that night, the sounds of your fork against the ceramic, too caught up in your thoughts to turn something on. You went to sleep later than normal, since you had opted to make food instead of ordering out. Your wallet needed a break, and so did your stomach. 

---

Traffic was bad the next morning when you left to go to work, just what you needed. You were already running late due to your phone being dead. No phone = No alarm. You were finally able to clock in, sliding your card through the scanner to get in. Dull boring day was going by like usual when you got a call from your dad, “Hey is everything okay? I’m at work.” The man sighed over the phone, “Yeah sweetheart are you off tomorrow?”. He sounded happier than usual. Odd. “I can be, what’s up?” you questioned. “Nothing, just me and a buddy of mine going fishing tomorrow.” You relaxed as he spoke, “Okay this relates to me how?” You asked. “Well his babysitter flaked on him so he needs someone to watch his little girl.” There it was. You began to realize the relation. “So this is you calling me to ask to babysit?” You sighed into the phone, “C’mon honey it’s the first fish of the season.” He begged into the speaker. “Fine, but you totally owe me.” You reluctantly agreed. “Love you too pumpkin.” He hung the phone up, pleased. You slumped into your rollie-chair. Before you clocked out that night, you were sure to brief them of your absence, despite your affliction. 

It’s not that you didn't like kids, truth be told you couldn't wait to start a family. It’s just you haven’t had a day off in over a month and here you are using it to babysit one of your father’s friend’s children. Maybe it won’t be that bad, you thought.

You woke up around 6am, the same as always. Only this time you were switching blouses and skirts, for sweats and a t-shirt. After showering, you got dressed in a simple black pair of sweatpants and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt. Thinking nothing of it, you threw on your red converse and headed out the door. The drive there was peaceful. Slow easy Saturday morning. Fog covered the road in a thin haze. Despite your gps failing halfway through, you had gotten it to boot back up and continue to give you directions.

 Pulling up to the house it was beautiful. Gorgeous white house with a wrap around porch. Adorned with an American flag hanging from the banister. Charming baby blue shutters hung by the windows. This wasn’t just a house, no this was a home. Pulling up into the driveway, you are met with a familiar sight. Your father’s red Ford pick-up, parked right next to an intense black Chevrolet Impala. Parking a bit off to the side, you grabbed your bag and headed to the front door. Chatter muffled behind the door as you knocked. Your father was quick to greet you. “Sweetheart you made it! Come in.” He slid to the side and ushered you inside the home. “This house…It’s so beautiful.” you muttered, setting your back on the table by the door. “I helped build it, a long long time ago.” Your father smiled at the reminiscence as you both walked into the kitchen. An oddly familiar voice shouted from atop the steps, something directed at your father. Where have you heard that voice before? God it felt like it was on the very tip of your tongue and you couldn’t spit it out for the life of you. 

Heavy boots stomped down the steps followed by a softer pair of slippered-feet. As the figure came into view, it felt like the wind was knocked out of you. 

That’s where you knew him from. 

“Nice shirt.” Was all he could mutter, sporting his signature grin. You smiled back, as the blush creeped from your cheeks to the tip of your nose. With no makeup on was a hell of a way to greet the man that consumed your thoughts. It also made it harder to hide the attraction slapped across your face. “Thanks, small world.” Was all you could find. Your father looked between the two of you confused, “Wait how do you know each other?”. He was almost scared to ask, knowing Dean’s past. “The grocery store actually, his daughter-” You started but he cut you off, “Cassie.” He corrected. “Right, Cassie wandered off on the search for strawberries was it?” You questioned, looking down at the little girl still dressed in her pajamas. Dean smiled at the two of you, as she rubbed her eyes.  “Yep slipped right out from under me, and found your daughter-” He said. This time you corrected, “Y/n, nice to meet you. For real this time.” You smiled as you extended your hand, to which Dean took in his, shaking gently. You almost passed out when he took your hand, whole body buzzing with tension as his engulfed yours. “Dean.” He grinned, looking down at you slightly due to the height difference.

Both Dean and your father watched as you crouched down to the little girl, “And it is so nice to see you again Cassie.”. Smiling at the little girl, this time her tiny little hand darted out to shake yours, you were quick to return the gesture before standing back up to your regular height. “I’m sure you two will get along just fine.” Your father looked between you and the little girl and then to Dean who was staring at you. “Don’t get into too much trouble while I’m gone, okay?” Dean pointed between you and his daughter to which she just found hilarious as she bursted out in giggles. “No promises dad.” You teased, and a spark went past Dean’s eyes as he went to speak but choked on his words. “Right. You girls be good, okay? Have fun” You and Cassie walked the pair to, and out the door. Waving at them as your father’s truck pulled out from the driveway.

—

You were told to have fun, and fun you had.

First order of business, like any, was to put on a gorgeous princess belle dress. Of course. Every princess needs a good breakfast so that you got to making. The smell of banana filled the air as you flipped the pancake, one of which was supposed to look like a crown, though ended up more like a squiggle. Cassie loved it nonetheless. After pancakes you decided to make cupcakes for your fathers’ return. A mess of sprinkles and frosting later, you have 12 well 10 cupcakes. You and Cassie had to make sure they tasted good. The two of you played for hours, swinging and running around the yard. Playing just about every game that could be played. The sun beginning to set, you had come up with one final activity. “Oh come on you’ve never built a pillow fort?” You asked the girl, and she shook her head, “Never-ever.” She replied. “Well it is your lucky day because we are about to change that sister.” You smiled down at the girl and the two of you started to round up all the pillows and blankets in the house. 

One magnificent pillow-fort later, and both of you were tuckered out. Cassie had finally given up the ghost and was passed out in the fort as the credits of Princess and The Frog rolled in the background. The sound of car doors shutting, followed by the low hum of your father’s truck pulling out of the driveway filled your ears. You perked up as the door swung open and Dean stood there looking into the living-room. 

You sat up against the leather of the couch as Dean walked into the living-room, “Oh you two had a blast didn’t you?” he muttered smiling down at the fort before meeting your gaze. “Best babysitter ever.” You motioned to yourself playfully. “I bet sweetheart.” He grinned while deconstructing the fort to retrieve his daughter. You started to refold the blankets and he held her close, still sleeping, and took her upstairs to her room. Folding the last blanket you grabbed your phone charger off the couch and put it in your bag, before starting to clean up the kitchen. You had just started to wash the dishes when Dean came back down the steps, this time empty handed.

“You don’t have to do that.” He muttered as you rinsed the batter bowl from earlier. “I don’t mind.” You smiled warmly. It felt almost domestic, intimate. He reached for the plate of cupcakes, picking one up and peeling back the wrapper. You watched as his hands worked at the paper before he brought the dessert to his mouth and took a bite. You swallowed hard and he noticed. “Everything alright there sweetheart?” He asked, grinning while he chewed and finally swallowed the bite of cake. “Mhm, any good?” You questioned and he nodded. “Been awhile since I’ve had somethin’ sweet.” He muttered.

It almost felt loaded.

Like he meant something other than that cupcake in his hand.

“Glad I could help.” You smiled and teased back, hoping you weren’t mis-reading signals. He smirked as you dried your hands with the dish towel. Leaning over to wipe down the sticky frosting-covered counter, Dean pressed against you. You froze as he spoke, “Now what did you mean by that sugar?”. Your face went red as you laid there against the counter, pinned between him and the cold surface. “T-The cupcakes, something sweet.” You replied in a choked stutter. Smooth. He laughed from behind you. You could feel the vibrations from his stomach against your ass as he spoke, “You and I both know damn well I wasn’t talking about a cupcake sweetheart.” His words went straight to your core, dripping with each word. You stood up, still pinned but now with your back to his chest. “You knew that, didn't you baby?” He whispered into your ear. Lips ghosting over your neck, leaving goosebumps in their path. You nodded as you melted into his touch. “I’m gonna need you to give me more than that angel.” He said as he turned you to face him. Grabbing your hips, he sat you on the counter. Barely meeting his height, he pressed his forehead against yours.

“Dean-” You whimpered in frustration, wanting nothing more than his hands on your body. “Haven’t even touched you yet and you’re already falling apart.” He whispered, his lips almost touching yours. Not wanting to wait any longer, you leaned forward and pressed your lips against his. A tangle of limbs, resulting in your sweatpants around your ankles left you craving more. “Please I need-” His voice cut yours off, “Need what baby? Tell me and it’s yours.” He tested your restraint, leaning down to kiss your thighs. The top of his head pressed against your stomach, and your hand tangled in his hair. Dean groaned against the feeling of your nails on his scalp. “Fuck.” He growled. “Need you Dean, everywhere.” You whined, and he finally gave in. 

Pulling your sweatpants past your ankles, he tossed them to pool on the floor. His hand cupped your head as he leaned you back fully against the counter. Gripping firmly onto your thighs he spread you open, head immediately going to your core. Pressing open mouth kisses against the cotton of your underwear, he watched intently as you squirmed against the laminate. His skilled hands pulled the thin fabric to the side, like a cupcake wrapper. Your nails scratched against his scalp as your fingers tangled in his short hair. Groaning against you as his tongue delved inside you. His eyes, once a soft shade of emerald green, were darker and boring up at you. Dean watched your every move as his tongue worked skillfully on your clit.

It was like a bomb went off when you finally came, taking your hearing and eyesight with it for a moment. Your chest heaved as you laid sprawled out on the counter, Dean licked his lips as you sat up, resting against your elbows. “Sweeter than that damn cupcake.” He grinned as his thumb rubbed against your thigh. “I need more Dean–please.” He looked at you with hungry eyes, “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to sugar.” He traced your hips, and you grabbed for his belt, “Need, Dean.” You said it plainly, not being able to simplify it anymore. With that he didn’t waste any more time and he unbuckled his belt in the midst of a messy make-out. He quickly rid himself of anything that could keep you from him. Pressing the tip of his cock against your slit, he leaned his forehead against yours and watched as your eyes widened at the intrusion. The way your face scrunched he could tell that it hurt and he was quick to comfort you.

“I know baby I’m so sorry.” He cooed as he pressed inch by inch in until you were flush against him. Soon, pain turned to pleasure and you allowed him to move. Each rock of his hips buried deeper inside you, you weren’t gonna last long like this. Whines and groans mixed together as you both approached your orgasm. What you didn’t expect was Dean to pick you up, wrapping your legs around his hips and plant his hands firmly on your ass. Gripping the flesh, he pounded into you ruthlessly. Rutting the deepest he’s ever been. 

He tried to hold off as long as he could, wanting to soak in as much of this moment as he could. You cried out into his neck, sinking your teeth into the soft flesh as you came. “Oh fuck-” He groaned, not expecting the bite. That’s what dealt him in, the sharp pain of your teeth into him was too much to hold off on. One last thrust he came inside of you, painting your walls with a thick creamy off-white. Setting you back down on the counter, he pulled his softening cock out of you. Whining at the loss, he kissed your lips as he dripped out of you and down the side of the counter. Wiping you clean with wet-paper towels, he muttered with that boyish smile,  “You free next week?”.

Maybe babysitting wasn’t too bad.

[monstersholygrail]

Just found and read the male yandere colleague x fem!reader fic,,,, oh how I wish it had a second part where the yandere's chasing came to fruition. Such good writing it makes me yearn for more!!

Actually, the more I think about it, the more Yandere!Colleague wouldn’t go the classic route of kidnapping his darling.

For as shy, nervous, and generally submissive as Yan!Colleague is, he’s also incredibly smart. For months now he’s been bringing you your daily coffee fix as well as doing a large portion of your average work load every week.

I imagine one day his patience inevitably wears thin. He’s done so much for you, cared for your every little need with all he has. And yet you still haven’t asked him out? Haven’t pulled him in the collar of his sweater and taken him right then and there in front of the whole office. Offer to taste his seed from the source instead of the weak excuse of swallowing it in your coffee.

Nope. Nothing! And he’s sick of it. He need you more than the air he breathes and you need him just as much. You just haven’t realized it yet— haven’t been able to realize it. Not when he’s always been there. So maybe he just needs to not be there.

In fact, he cuts you off cold turkey. He’ll suffer too, but it’s for the betterment of you both. That next morning he doesn’t bring you your morning coffee. His balls feel tight and they ache to be emptied, so used to his routine of filling your cup with his cum. But he suffers the discomfort and relishes in the way you come find him.

“Hey! Any coffee today?” You ask simply and his heart flutters in chest despite keeping up his cool front. Shrugging like he couldn’t care enough to remember.

“Oh, it’s, u-uh been a busy morning,” he replies with the excuse as smoothly as possible.

He watches you accept his explanation with a nod and turn to head back to your desk. His heart is beating wildly and he can’t believe it. You actually came to him first. This plan of his is working out perfectly. He can’t wait to see what’ll happen the longer he goes.

And his plan continues to work well, better than well. As the weeks pass you search for him every morning to ask about the coffee and throughout the day you’re the one stopping by his desk to ask about this project and that task that needs completing.

He can see you become more desperate for him with each passing day. And he doesn’t plan on stopping. Not until you’re on your knees and downright begging for him to take you away from here, to rid you of all the stress and problems in your life. He’ll keep on ignoring you till you fall as deep in love with him as he is you.

Then he’ll make all of your wishes come true, giving you exactly what you asked for and what he’s always wanted.

[wheeboo]

"bluetooth hug!" | kim mingyu

SYNOPSIS. in which being long distance with your boyfriend comes with its perks. PAIRING. kim mingyu x fem!reader GENRE. fluff, comfort, suggestive, established relationship WARNINGS. mingyu basically using all the terms of endearment in the world, mingyu being absolutely smitten and so so in love with you it's ridiculous, they talk abt wanting to kiss each other A LOT save them from this distance, so yes kissing lots of kissing that i had wayy too much fun writing, lots of teasing from mingyu, brief shirtless mingyu moment, suggestive undertones, suggestive at the end, implied sexual content WORD COUNT. 8k

notes: personally after a kinda bad experience with long distance, i don't think i'd be able to do it LMAO. anyway! i had this idea for a while lmao n just couldnt stop thinking abt mingyu yelling out "bluetooth hug!" to the camera directors in TTT :((

“Wait, baby, baby, look at this!”

When you look back at the phone, Mingyu is proudly showing off his new collection of shot glasses, each one lined up on a shelf in his kitchen. He eyes each one before grabbing one up to the camera with a boyish grin.

“Ta-da!” he exclaims, gesturing like a game show host showing off a prize. “I told you I’d start collecting these when I travel, and look! Aren’t they cool? This one... I think... This one is from Jeju Island. This other one is from Paris…”

Your boyfriend has always been quite the adventurous kind. It’s the first thing you noticed when you tapped on his profile on Tinder and you were greeted by a plethora of photos of Mingyu in all sorts of places𑁋hiking in the mountains, posing in front of famous landmarks, and even one where he was holding a street food skewer with a bright, goofy grin. His bio had read, “Always looking for my next adventure! Maybe you can join me someday? 😙”

At the time, you had laughed at how cliché it sounded, but there was something about his energy, the way his smile lit up every photo, that made you swipe right.

The only catch was that he lived in an entirely different country.

Fast forward six months later, and here you are, completely and utterly smitten by the same man who had once been a stranger behind a screen. Even though your relationship is entirely virtual, it has blossomed in ways you didn’t think possible. Unfortunately, you’ve been occupied with studying for university and schedules filled to the brim, and Mingyu was quite busy checking things off his own bucket list, so there were hardly any opportunities for the two of you to finally meet.

Still, you loved hearing his stories and seeing the world through his eyes, even if it was through a screen.

Mingyu carefully places it back on the shelf before showing off another one to the camera. You can’t help the smile spreading across your face as you watch him enthusiastically present each shot glass. His cute little fangs show along with his grin, and it’s moments like this that make the distance between you feel just a little smaller.

“One day, I’ll fill this shelf up.” Then he turns his attention back to the phone, watching you diligently typing away some notes on your laptop. “Baby?”

“Hm?” You shoot a glance to the screen.

Mingyu juts out his bottom lip in an exaggerated pout, resting his chin on his hand.

“You’re not paying attention to me,” he whines helplessly, dragging out the words like a kid vying for attention.

Letting out a giggle, you scoot your laptop away from your phone, the screen dimming from off your face. You shift your position so that you're properly facing the screen now, giving him your full attention.

You raise an eyebrow playfully. “Yes, my precious, annoyingly clingy boyfriend?”

Mingyu’s only pout deepens, and he crosses his arms over his chest as if to make his disappointment even more prominent. “You’ve been so busy with work lately... I miss you.”

“How could you miss me when we haven’t even met yet, Gyu?” You jest teasingly.

His features soften at your words, uncrossing his arms and leaning in closer to the screen, and it’s almost like the huge distance between the two of you lessens slightly.

“I don’t need to meet you to miss you,” Mingyu explains sheepishly. “I just... All I have to do is think about you and it’s like you’re here, but not really here, you know?” He rubs the back of his neck, his cheeks turning a faint shade of pink that you can see even through the screen. “Gosh, the things I would do to just have you in my arms right now…”

A dreamy look lights up your face. You swear you could almost feel his presence right by you just from his words alone, but they aren’t enough to ease the longing ache in your chest, aren’t enough to fill the gap that stretches between the two of you. You let out a soft sigh, your heart warming at the thought of him.

“I think about it a lot, too,” You murmur gingerly, glancing down for a moment before meeting his gaze again through the screen. “About finally getting to be close with you.”

Even through the screen, you see the way his face melts, an expression nothing short of longing and expectation. His fingers drum against the counter, and you can tell he’s thinking of what to say next. The troublesome expression he wears tells you that it’s probably not something good.

“Tell me,” he says, resting his chin on his palm again. “What would we be doing if I was there right now?”

A thoughtful look crosses your features, but the answer is already so clear in your mind you could almost feel it.

“Cuddling?” You quirk a playful brow up at that. “Cuddling while listening to you talk... That would be nice. But then at some point, I’d get tired of hearing you talk, and just𑁋”

“Just what?”

“Hmmm,” You start, an impish flicker of your lips. “I’d shut you up with a kiss.”

Mingyu sputters in surprise at that, his brain and thoughts running haywire. “Oh? Oh?” He leans closer to the screen, a mischievous glint in his eyes now. “That’s dangerous talk, baby.”

You tilt your head amusedly. “Is it now?”

“You can’t just say things like that.” He pouts again. “Knowing damn well I can’t do anything about it. That’s just cruel. A crime, even.”

“Come on, I’m just speaking facts,” You retort back. “Now, tell me. If you could do something about it, what would you do?”

Mingyu lets out a sigh. “Don’t do this to me, babe.”

“I’m just curious,” You hum innocently, resting your chin on your palm now, mirroring his posture. “Would you kiss me silly?”

Mingyu’s gaze flickers back to you, and there’s something undeniably fond in the way he looks at you.

“You already know I would,” he grumbles. “I’d pull you in my lap and kiss you soooo hard that you wouldn’t be able to crawl away from me.”

You hum again, pretending to consider, despite the heat crawling up your neck. “Sounds nice.”

“Nice?” Mingyu scoffs at your indifference. “Just nice?”

You giggle. “Okay, okay𑁋really nice. Amazing. Wonderful. Fantastic. Perfect, even.”

He narrows his eyes playfully. “That’s more like it.” Then, he leans in just a bit closer to the screen, voice dropping slightly. “You’d be the one begging for me to stop talking then.”

Your stomach flutters, but you roll your eyes. “Okay, well, now you’re just being cocky.”

“Am I wrong, though?” He smirks, and you hate how good he looks doing it. “The moment I see you, I won’t be able to stop kissing you for a long, long time.”

For a moment, the teasing pauses, and all you can hear is the gentle hum of your heartbeat. You look into his eyes𑁋those same eyes that always made you feel both safe and that you could conquer the world all at once. You crave the feeling of his arms around you, his lips teasing you in real life, not just through words.

As you’re about to speak, though, a notification pops up on your computer.

When you read it silently, you let out a defeated sigh.

Mingyu notices your worry right away, like he always does. “Deadline notif?”

“Yeah,” You mutter, pulling away from the phone screen to force your laptop awake again. “I should wrap up this assignment, and you should go to sleep, Mr. Big Talk. You keep staying up for me.”

Mingyu groans dramatically, letting out a pettish whine. “The universe is always conspiring against me. I still wanna keep talking to you.”

You laugh softly. “I think you’ll survive, you big goof. I’ll call you tomorrow, alright?”

You watch as Mingyu picks up his phone, trailing over to where you could catch glimpses of his living room. He plops down on the couch with that same, irresistible sulkiness from earlier before a sudden gleam of mischief lights up his features.

“One more thing,” he says, sitting up excitedly, propping the phone down on the table before opening up his arms towards the camera. “Bluetooth hug!”

You blink confusedly. “Bluetooth what now?”

“Bluetooth hug,” he repeats, and you can tell how serious he is about it. “Since I can’t hug you in person, we do this instead.”

Your heart stutters at the sheer ridiculousness and sincerity of it all. “Gyu, you’re so𑁋”

“Shhh,” he hushes, wiggling his fingers like he’s beckoning you forward. “Just do it, baby. Please?”

With a chuckle, you shake your head, but you can’t deny him, not when he’s looking at you like that. Raising your arms, you mimic his motion, pretending to wrap them around his broad frame through the screen.

“Bluetooth hug,” You quip, and you can almost feel his body pressed up against yours at the thought. “There. Happy?”

Mingyu flops back onto the couch, a dazed look to his face. “Mmh, best hug ever. It’ll be our thing now before we end the call.” Then he pans the camera down to his chin, and gosh, he looks extra kissable right now. “Alright, alright. I’ll let you go now, okay?”

You give him a faint smile. “Okay.”

Some moments of silence pass, like neither of you want to break the spell that’s bound to you both. It happens basically every time𑁋where neither of you want to end the call, until one of you finally gets the guts to do it first, only to instantly miss the other right after. 

Mingyu stares at you for a few more seconds, like he’s trying to memorise every detail of your face before parting ways, and you do the same𑁋hoping to hold on to this moment a little longer.

“Okay,” he murmurs finally, his voice soft but resigned. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah,” You whisper back, trying to fight the tug at your heart. “I’ll miss you.”

He grins at you one last time, his boyish charm lighting up his face, and his gaze is soothing. “Miss you more, baby. Sleep well.”

And with that, the screen turns to black. Even though he’s basically an entire ocean away from you, you still feel his warmth lingering around you.

“Wait, I think you passed it! Go back a little, baby.”

You furrow a brow as you push back the shopping cart, nearly saving your phone as it almost falls off from where it’s perched idly on the child’s seat. You show off the endless rows of foods and packaged goods towards the camera, giving a better angle for Mingyu to see.

“Like... here?” You tilt the camera slightly, showcasing the aisle packed with different types of pasta.

“Yes, that’s the one!” Mingyu’s excited voice blasts through your headphones. “Get the one with the red logo, do you see it? It’s the one I always use for my spaghetti.”

Mingyu had brought up your bi-weekly tradition of cooking together as a little date night. Since the two of you obviously aren’t able to cook in the same kitchen, this was the next best thing𑁋letting him guide you through the store to pick up ingredients and calling over FaceTime while making the same recipe. Although, this time, it’s Mingyu’s own special recipe.

You pluck the spaghetti noodle pack from the shelf and place it into your shopping cart. “Okay, got it.”

“Perfect,” he says, completely satisfied. “Now, next is Parmesan cheese... Oh, baby, get some garlic too. Fresh, not the pre-minced kind.”

You roll your eyes at his determination, yet a smile tugs endearingly at your lips. “Affirmative, oh-great chef.”

Mingyu wiggles his brows at that. “Say that again.”

You scoff, shaking your head with a laugh as you push your cart down the aisle, trailing towards the produce section of the store. “Nope. You get it once, and that’s it.”

He lets out a groan. “Ugh, you’re such a bully. Just say you hate me and want to break up with me already.”

“I lovingly hate you,” You tease, reaching for a bulb of garlic and holding it up to the camera. “This work for you?”

He narrows his eyes, inspecting it through the screen, his head tilted like he’s some sort of critically acclaimed food critic. “Hmm... yes, that one looks good. You pass.”

You chuckle, dropping it in your cart. “Lucky ol’ me.”

After you finish shopping for all the ingredients, you find yourself lining up at the register for check-out. You compare the ingredients to the list Mingyu had sent you. Spaghetti noodles? Check. Garlic? Check. Basil? Check. Parmesan cheese? Check. Tomatoes? Check...

“Okay,” Mingyu starts. “I’ve sent the money for the groceries to your card.”

Your eyes widen at that. “I𑁋Gyu…” Then you roll your eyes, knowing you can’t argue back with him. “You know, my frontal lobe may be averagely developed, but I’m a grown adult, with money of my own.”

“Yeah, well, I’m also a grown adult who wants to spoil his favourite girl,” Mingyu retorts back playfully. “Let me treat you once in a while, okay?”

You card a hand through your hair. “You’re lucky I love you.”

Mingyu simply grins at that. “I really am.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say,” You remark, pushing your cart up to the register. “I’ll call you when I’m home.”

“Drive safe, okay?” he says, suddenly softer. “Text me when you get there.”

Your heart does that annoying little flutter it always does when he’s sweet with you like this, swallowing down the warmth creeping up your neck, your fingertip lingering on the end call button. “I will.”

By the time you get home and call him back, Mingyu is already in his kitchen, phone propped up against the counter, sleeves rolled up to his elbow like he’s about to film his own cooking show. The sight of his exposed arms makes your stomach do a flip.

“Welcome, welcome,” he beckons with poise. “Tonight, I, Chef Mingyu, will be guiding the love of my life in whipping up the best spaghetti of her life.”

You snort, setting your phone against the kitchen backsplash. “Pretty bold claim, mister.”

His infectious grin only shines with confidence. “Just wait and see, princess.”

The two of you start cooking together, Mingyu guiding you through each step like a seasoned pro𑁋boiling the pasta, sautéing the garlic, and getting the sauce to the perfect consistency. All while he’s playfully critiquing your chopping and cooking skills (“Baby, what is that? Are you making garlic chunks instead of minced garlic?”), and you teasingly mock his over-the-top chef persona (“Should I start calling you ‘Gordon Kim’ now?”).

The comforting aroma of tomatoes and garlic fill your kitchen as the sauce simmers, bubbling gently under the heat. You find yourself standing at the stove, slowly running a wooden spoon through the makeshift sauce.

“Make sure you’re stirring it evenly,” he chimes in randomly, watching you intently.

“I am stirring it evenly.”

Mingyu squints, bringing the phone up to his face as if that’ll definitely help him see better. “Mmm… I don’t know, precious. Let me see the consistency.”

Rolling your eyes, you lift the wooden spoon, letting the sauce drip back into the pan. “Chef Kim, does this meet your expectations?”

He taps his chin theatrically. “You are barely passing, but I’ll allow it.”

You let out an exaggerated gasp. “I am literally following your recipe, Gyu.”

“I know, and I’m an amazing teacher,” he says smugly. “Okay, let's check on the pasta. Should be al dente now.”

You grab a fork and scoop up a strand, blowing on it before taking a bite. “I think it’s good?”

Mingyu hums, watching you closely. “Are you sure? Not too soft? Not too hard? Do the official chef bite.”

You raise a brow. “Please enlighten me on what the official chef bite is.”

He straightens up his posture confidently, dramatically miming the act of chewing like some Michelin-star judge. “You gotta, like, taste it with full concentration, eyes closed, and nod like you’re making the most critical decision of your life.”

You roll your eyes but comply anyway, exaggerating the nod just for him, claiming in your best food critic voice, “Ah, yes. Exquisitely divine. A fine noodle with a delicate texture.”

Mingyu beams at that, and walks over to give his pasta noodles a quick taste test of his own. He moves with a sense of elegance in his step, albeit slightly chaotic. He’s always been like this, always throwing himself fully into whatever he loves, especially cooking. And right now, he’s throwing himself into making sure you get this recipe just right.

As the two of you finish draining the pasta, you begin to toss it into the sauce, ensuring that it’s properly mixed. Mingyu watches you carefully, your lips pursed in concentration.

“Make sure every strand is coated and𑁋oh!” He leans in closer to the screen, watching you mix. “Don’t forget to leave a little bit of pasta water.”

You pause mid-stir, eyes narrowing at him through the screen. “Why didn’t you tell me that before I drained all of it?”

Mingyu’s mouth drops down to the floor. “Baby, no! The starch in the pasta water helps the sauce stick better.”

You huff defeatedly. “Guess my spaghetti is less Mingyu-fied now.”

“It’s okay, you’re still a beginner,” he assures. “My love and patience are boundless.”

“Wow, you’re so generous.”

You scoop the pasta into a plate, sprinkling a generous amount of Parmesan cheese on top of it, tucking in some loose noodle strands with a fork to make it cute for your little dinner date. Mingyu does the same, positioning his plate just right so you can see it on screen.

You set your phone up against the tiny succulent on the table, grabbing your fork in hand.

“Moment of truth. First bite together?” Mingyu suggests excitedly.

You nod, twirling some spaghetti onto your fork and holding it up. “On three?”

“One, two…”

“Three.”

An explosion of flavours coat your tastebuds, your eyes widening in surprise. You chew through it leisurely, savouring it with a pleasant hum, before diving in for another bite. Mingyu’s attention is solely focused on you as he takes a bite of his own, his face lighting up with triumph as he soaks up the way you’re enjoying it.

“Damn,” You wipe some sauce off the corner of your lip. “This is really good.”

“Yeah?” His eyes crinkle with pure happiness. “Knew you’d love it, sweetheart.”

The two of you continue to eat together, and it’s almost as if he’s sitting right across from you at the table. You catch him up on what the week has showered down on you, rambling to him about something in regards to one of your professor’s strict grading style, and he fills you in with a humourous story that happened to him with his coworker Soonyoung at work two days ago.

Even though you’re in different places, it’s moments like these that make the distance feel smaller, that make time feel infinite𑁋knowing one day, you’ll be with him in person.

And as you finish your last bite, you can’t help but think𑁋if love had a taste, it would be this.

“I’m stuffed,” You mutter after washing your plate in the sink, plopping back down in the chair. “And need a shower.”

Mingyu lifts a brow, smirking devilishly. “Take me with you.”

You shake your head, sending him a suspicious look. “In your dreams, pervert.”

“Can’t help it, love. You’re absolutely ravishing, even in dream-form.”

A lump forms in your throat at your boyfriend’s downright shamelessness, heat threatening to spread its way and infect all parts of your body. Mingyu basks in your reaction with a prideful grin, biting at his bottom lip to suppress a giggle.

Then, as if he had read your mind, he outstretches his arms towards the camera.

“Bluetooth hug?” he asks softly, wiggling his fingers in invitation, as if he’s attempting to reach out to you through the screen. He always knows how to get under your skin so easily.

You give him a roll of your eyes, before extending your own arms towards him as well, the two of you curling your arms, basically hugging the air. But even in the empty space, knowing that he’s right on the other side is enough to make it almost feel like the real thing. Almost.

“Feel that?” he murmurs, squeezing himself tightly. “That’s me, right there with you.”

Your heart stutters, warmth blooming in your chest. “I feel it.”

A pleased look paints his face, but then his voice turns teasing again. “Wish I could do more than just a hug, you know…”

Your fingers twitch against the screen. “Oh?”

“Oh.” His grin turns wolfish. “You’d like that, huh?”

You only sneer, but there’s no real bite to it. “Goodnight, you dirty-minded freak.”

Mingyu shoots you a kiss through the screen. “Goodnight, pretty girl. Dream of me.”

And as you hang up, face warm and heart full, you know sleep won’t come easy𑁋because every little word, every little tease, lingers, like the taste of his love on your tongue.

“I talk about you, you know.”

Your attention is momentarily taken away from the book in your hands, and you peer towards Mingyu on your phone screen, who appears to be completely submerged within the comfort of his bed. The sun has nearly risen on his end𑁋as he is stubborn and wants to fall asleep at exactly the same time as you𑁋while the sky is plagued with darkness on yours. He looks adorable, as he always does, and your chest can't help but tighten at the sight.

“What?”

Mingyu emerges slightly out of the sheets, revealing more of his pretty bare face. “To my friends, my family. I talk about you.”

Your breath catches in your throat at that.

“You do?” You murmur, setting your book aside and shifting under your blanket as well.

Mingyu only nods, resting his cheek against his pillow. “Of course. All the time. They probably think I’m obsessed with you.” He gives a sheepish grin. “Which, I mean... they wouldn’t be wrong.”

A quiet laugh escapes your lips, but it doesn’t quite mask the way his words turn your insides into mush. “What... What do you tell them?”

“Hmm,” he hums, pretending to think hard. “I tell them about how amazing you are. How we met on Tinder and how it grew from there. How you make me laugh so effortlessly. How you somehow always know exactly what to say. How you’re unbelievably pretty and cute and sexy when you’re focused on something𑁋like, seriously, it’s unfair, babe.”

His words swirl around you like a thick fog, settling over your body and creeping in within the crevices of your heart. A smile crawls its way across your features, half-buried in the pillow, but for some reason, it simmers just slightly.

Because you talk about Mingyu too𑁋to your friends, your family, hell even strangers you’ve known for a day. He probably doesn’t realise himself how much you speak so fondly of him day-to-day. Yet, the thing is, there are people who have told you that long distance relationships hardly ever work. Or that meeting Mingyu through a dating app meant that your connection with him is bound to fizzle out after some time, that it wasn’t real love. Those words stick to you like an annoying flea sometimes.

But if those people could see you right now𑁋see the way your heart leaps out of your chest when Mingyu smiles through the screen, the way his voice alone can make the world feel a little more bearable, the way he talks about you like you hung the moon and stars in the sky𑁋maybe they’d understand.

However, there’s always that tiny part of you that worries.

Because what if they’re right? If love isn’t this, then what is?

“...and I tell them I’d do anything to finally just… be with you, you know?” Mingyu continues mindlessly, before stopping, as if sensing the sudden shift that you weren’t entirely listening. “Baby?”

You blink, shaking off the thoughts. “Huh?”

Mingyu’s brows knit together slightly. “You okay? You kinda went all quiet.”

You hesitate for a moment, caught between shoving your thoughts away and admitting the quiet fears that gnaw at your skin during the wee hours of the night. But Mingyu knows you too well. He always does.

“Yeah,” You respond quietly, but it’s more than obvious how unconvincing your tone is. Even a three-year-old could probably sense it.

Mingyu doesn’t press, at least not right away. He watches you carefully, waiting, giving you the stage to decide how much you want to say. That’s one of the things you love most about him𑁋his patience when it comes to you being vulnerable with him, his effort in wanting to communicate with you, his willingness to listen when you’re ready.

So you exhale, pressing your lips together before whispering, “Do... you think this will last?”

Mingyu adjusts his position to get a better look at you. “What do you mean?”

You swallow nervously. “I mean us. Long distance, life pulling us in different directions one day. People say it’s not sustainable. That... maybe this isn’t real love.”

Mingyu’s eyes darken at that, his jaw tightening as if his body is physically rejecting the idea. “Who the hell says that?”

You let out a weak, humourless laugh, giving a shrug. “People who think love only works if it’s easy, I guess.”

Mingyu’s expression just softens, his gaze carefully boring into you as if he’s searching for every ounce of doubt in your words. He leans closer to the screen, making the distance feel smaller, if only for a moment, just as he always does.

“Listen to me, angel,” he prompts. “Love isn’t easy. It never is. It’s work. It’s effort. It’s choosing someone over and over again, even when it’s hard. If things ever get hard between us, then we fight for it. Because this? Us? It’s real, precious, no matter what anyone else thinks. I’d literally walk the entire earth just to tell you that we’re okay.”

Your throat tightens, and for a moment, you don’t respond. Because this, you realise, is what love is, right? It’s not just the soft, dreamy moments of cooking together through a screen or whispering sleepy goodnights before ending the call. It’s this𑁋being honest about your fears and knowing that no matter what, the person on the other side isn’t going anywhere.

That this𑁋he𑁋is worth every mile. And no matter what anyone says, this love? It’s real. You know it is.

Mingyu’s voice drops, more gentler now. “Do you believe me, love?”

You could only let out a soft laugh, letting the warmth bloom throughout your face at his words. “You’re too confident for your own good sometimes, you know that?”

“I’m confident because I know what I want,” he replies matter-of-factly. “And what I want is you. I love you. I could scream that to my next-door neighbours right now if I wanted to. I’m in this for the long run, so... I guess you’re stuck with me now.”

You scoff a little. “I guess.” Before your expression merely melts, your worries lifting off your chest. “Thank you, though. I... I really needed that. I love you too.”

His grin turns radiant, like the sun peeking out at sunrise, so full of adoration that it makes your heart stutter. “Yeah?”

You laugh softly. “Yeah.”

Mingyu clutches at his chest in a dramatic fashion. “Say it again, please. I need it in writing. Maybe a voice memo for proof so I could replay it for hours.”

Though you’re notorious for leaving him on the edge sometimes, this time, you can’t help but cave in.

“I love you too, Kim Mingyu.”

You swear you see the temptation in his face that he could practically leap off the bed and bounce off the walls in his room from giddiness, just like an overexcited puppy. His mouth stretches into a cheesy, toothy grin, and he lets out some sort of muffled squeal𑁋half a cheer, half a laugh, all purely Mingyu.

“God, baby, I think you killed me again,” he tells you, cheeks pained from all the ridiculous smiling he’s been doing. “I wish I could kiss you right now. Like, really kiss you. Wouldn’t even hesitate.”

You breath hitches at the thought, but you attempt to play it cool. “And what if you come here and discover I’m the most disastrous kisser imaginable?”

Mingyu’s eyes widen in comical horror. “Impossible. There’s no way I’d believe that. You’d have to try really hard to be a bad kisser, babe.”

You roll your eyes, trying to suppress the smile threatening to break free. “I’m serious. What if I’m an awful kisser and ruin everything?”

“Then I’d just kiss you again,” Mingyu responds, completely unbothered, as if that solves everything. “And again. And again. Until I figure out how to teach you properly. I’d take a hundred bad kisses if it means I get to kiss you a hundred times.”

“Wow,” is all you can utter out. “You’re really down bad for me, aren’t you?”

Mingyu’s grin widens even more, if that’s even possible at this point. “Down bad? No, baby, I’m crazy for you. To the point I think I’ll suffer from a heart attack one day. There’s a difference.”

You can’t help but chuckle, shaking your head fondly at how absolutely unapologetic he is in his affection. It’s one of the many silly quirks you love about him𑁋how he wears his heart on his sleeve and isn’t afraid to show it, even from cities away.

When you shift in your position within your covers, a yawn escapes from you as the exhaustion finally begins to catch up with how late it is. You don’t really know how long the two of you have been calling, but you don’t bother to check for yourself.

He’s your little infinity.

“Tired?”

“Mmh, yeah. A little. Been a long day,” You respond with a low mutter, stretching your legs out under the sheets.

Mingyu thinks for a moment, before reaching out to grab the pillow right next to him, wrapping an arm around it and squeezing it tightly.

“Bluetooth hug!” he exclaims eagerly, voice muffled into the pillow.

The corners of your mouth lift as you grab your own pillow, squeezing it with the most affection your body could muster. It’s the closest thing you have to him.

“Bluetooth hug,” You repeat back with a sleepy smile.

“Fall asleep with me?” Mingyu proposes with a sly look.

“Unless you want your phone to explode later on,” You remark playfully. “Sure.”

The two of you are swift to curl yourselves comfortably under the sheets, the only sounds being the occasional shift of Mingyu in his bed and your quiet breathing. You feel Mingyu’s eyes still on you even as you’re struggling to stay awake, a simple, comfortable silence taking over in the way you both simply exist in this bubble of virtual connection together.

“Gyu?”

“Mhm?”

“I love you. Goodnight.”

Maybe love isn’t easy. But with him, it feels like the easiest thing in the world.

“Goodnight, baby, I love you too.”

You don’t really need to say anything more than that; the simple truth of his presence, even through a screen, is enough. The love, the connection, the trust you share together𑁋it’s all there. It’s real.

Eventually, the call fades into silence, the sounds of your quiet, rhythmic breathing and the steady fall and rise of your chest being the only things Mingyu can see and hear. He stays like that for a few minutes𑁋just simply taking you in within the darkness of your bedroom he hopes to share with you one day, admiring you from afar, knowing you’re just a screen away yet somehow right there beside him.

When he’s sure that you’ve fallen asleep, he lets out a breath he’s been holding within his chest.

“One more month,” he whispers to himself as he closes his eyes, the gentle sound of your breathing lulling him into a peaceful state. “One more month, and I'll finally get to hold you.”

One more month, and everything will be right.

Your overthinking may as well make your brain combust.

Mingyu hasn’t called you or has been answering his calls for the past ten hours, and it’s making you worried sick.

Your mind runs through all sorts of scenarios, ranging from the logical to the most absurd. Maybe he fell asleep. Maybe his phone died. Maybe he’s just busy. But ten hours? Mingyu always, always makes time to send at least a quick text if he’s not available, always makes time to call you at least twice a day, and would definitely let you know if he can’t call at all. What in the world happened?

This was definitely not how you imagined you’d start your March break with, with your boyfriend basically going AWOL-radio silent on you for almost half a day. You try not to let your thoughts spiral too much, but your chest tightens nonetheless. Is he okay? Did something happen? What if he got into an accident? What if he lost his phone? What if𑁋God forbid𑁋he’s ghosting you?

No, that last one is absolutely out of the question. This is Kim Mingyu we’re talking about. He would rather cut off his own limbs than ignore you for this long without a good reason.

You chew at the inside of your cheek as you stare at your phone, debating if you should call again or to send another text, or if you’re going overboard from being worried over literally nothing. You’ve already spammed him enough𑁋eight texts, four missed calls, and a voice memo where your tone was a mix of concern and frustration.

Just as you’re about to work yourself into another wave of panic, your phone vibrates on your nightstand. You scramble to grab it, barely registering Mingyu’s name flashing on the screen before answering, bringing it up to your ear.

“Mingyu? Where have you𑁋”

“Hi, baby,” he interrupts, voice warm like melted chocolate, but there’s something else there too𑁋something you can’t quite place. “Sorry I didn't call earlier. Were you worried?”

You let out a breath, flopping back against your pillows. “Worried? That’s an understatement. I was already debating if I should call that Wonwoo guy to track you down. I thought you got kidnapped or something!”

Mingyu lets out a breathy chuckle, the sound oddly laced with amusement. “I promise, no kidnappings today. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you, love.” There’s some rustling sounds on the other end, like the sound of a piece of clothing being adjusted or the wind breezing through the air. “Are you home right now?”

“I𑁋Of course, I am. Are you? You sound like you’re outside.”

On the other end, Mingyu clears his throat. “I... uh, I had to do a lot of errands today.”

“Errands?” You frown, sitting up straighter in bed. “Since when do you run errands for ten hours straight without answering your phone?”

“Um, since... today?” he tries, voice holding that signature boyish charm, but there’s an unmissable nervous edge to it.

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Gyu, what are you up to?”

“Nothing, nothing!” He laughs, but it sounds a little too forced. “Just… stuff. Important stuff.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“You caught me,” he teases, but you hear the sound of a door closing on his end, the faint rustling of fabric, then𑁋what was that? The beeping of an elevator? Your brows knit together in confusion.

“Gyu,” You deadpan, your tone serious. “Where are you, really?”

“Home, obviously,” he answers, his footsteps echoing on the ground through the phone. “Can you do me a favour, baby? It’s a quick one, I promise.”

You huff a breath, unsure how much more you can tolerate him avoiding your questions. “What?”

“Check your front door.”

Your heart skips a beat at that, pursing your lips together at his words, throwing the covers off your body anyway. “Gyu…”

“Go open your door,” he repeats, voice soft now, almost giddy. “Please?”

“Did you send me a package?” You ask back. “I swear to God, Gyu, I’m going to be in a lot of debt just to pay you back.”

You hear the smile that blossoms on his face, even through the call. “Nonsense, baby. It’s just a small gift.”

Your mind races, breath catching in your throat as you practically throw your phone on speaker mode and stumble clumsily out of bed. With each hurried step towards your front door, your pulse thrums louder in your ears. This better not be a joke. This better not be some elaborate prank where he’s made you run to the door for nothing, or else you’ll kill him.

Pausing in front of your door, you take in a deep inhale.

Hand shaking slightly, you unlock the door and pull it open𑁋

𑁋and nearly stop breathing altogether.

Because standing right there, under the dim glow of the hallway lights, is Kim Mingyu.

Your Kim Mingyu.

Live. In person. Not pixelated through a stupid phone screen with spotty WIFI.

Kim Mingyu, in all his six-foot-something, broad-shouldered, grinning glory, standing on your doorstep with a suitcase propped by his side. His eyes glow under the dim apartment light with unrestrained joy as he takes your vulnerable appearance𑁋barefoot, hair slightly disheveled, drowning in an oversized hoodie that he bought you for Valentine’s day, your face a mixture of disbelief and awe. He’s drinking in the sight of you just as much as you’re drinking in him, standing frozen in the doorway.

“Bluetooth hug?” he requests shyly, voice slightly breathless, holding his phone up and ending the call. 

Before you can even fully register everything, your body moves on autopilot. One second your feet are rooted to the floor, the next you’re launching yourself at him.

Mingyu barely has time to react before you’re in his arms, wrapping yourself around him in a tight embrace, your face burying into his chest. He lets out a soft, breathless laugh before his own large arms curl securely around you, pulling you in as close as humanly possible. His scent washes over you𑁋warm, familiar, safe𑁋and the moment his hands splay across your back, the reality of it all finally sinks in.

He’s here.

For the first time ever, he’s really, truly here.

And you’re sharing your first ever hug together. Not a Bluetooth hug, not that little hugging emoji he sends you through text. A real one.

“You idiot,” You mumble against his chest, clutching at the fabric of his sweater. “I can’t believe you𑁋”

“Believe it, baby,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the crown of your head, his hold on you tightening. “God, you feel so much better than a pillow.”

You let out something between a laugh and a sob, tilting your head up to look at him. His gaze softens instantly at the sight of you, his hands cradling your face like you’re a precious gift. For a second, his eyes drop down to your lips, before coming back up to your face. You’re so much more beautiful in person. A phone screen is incomparable.

He sucks in a breath.

“You flew here?” You ask him, still caught in a daze of disbelief.

Mingyu chuckles, his thumb caressing the skin of your cheek. “Of course, I did. Didn’t want you spending your March break alone. But, uh…” He licks his lips, eyes dipping to yours again. “I really need to kiss you right now.”

You let out a soft hum, peeking up at him with half-lidded eyes.

“Hmm, well, do you?” You murmur, allowing your fingers to trail lightly over the nape of his neck. “I think you’d have to earn it.”

Mingyu blinks at that, letting out a choked sound𑁋half-frustration, half-amusement. “I just crossed an entire ocean for you, you little devil.”

And you know you can’t counter anything back with that, because he did.

“Yeah,” is all you can say with a heartfelt look, flickering a gaze at his lips as well, granting him permission to cross that line. “You did.”

And then his lips are on yours.

It’s slow and tentative at first𑁋like he’s taking his precious time memorising the feel of your mouth against his for the first time. It’s way better than what his dreams have given him, way better than what his fantasies have showed, way better than anything else he could imagine. But then you sigh against him, melting into him completely, and a coil within him snaps.

Mingyu presses into you firmly, causing you to stumble back towards the doorframe, deepening the kiss with a low, pleased hum and a wicked smirk that you could feel. You part your lips slightly, coaxing his tongue to sweep against yours, and he swallows the sounds that elicit from your mouth. It’s full of need, full of want, full of desire. His hands tighten around your waist, fingers gripping at the fabric of your hoodie like he never wants to let go.

Your knees feel weak, almost like jelly, and you swear you might actually float away if it weren’t for the way Mingyu holds you in his grasp, the way he keeps you his.

“Sweetheart,” he rasps against your lips, the heat of his kisses blossoming its petals throughout your body. “You taste like home.”

When you pull away slightly, breathless, Mingyu chases after your lips with a small whine.

“Come on.” You take his hand in yours for the first time, and it’s almost familiar in the way he fits perfectly in your hold. You can definitely get used to this. “Let me show you around.”

It’s the last night of your March break.

Which means, it’s also Mingyu’s last night with you too.

You don’t know where all your time with him went𑁋how it passed by so quickly yet so slowly. You’ve shown him so much of your world in just this miniscule window of time, shown him various spots in your city that created a particular chapter in your life, and yet, there’s still so much you want to share with him.

You watch as Mingyu stuffs some of his belongings into his suitcase. His flight is not until the next day, but seeing him begin to pack already makes your chest squeeze tightly. You feel as if he’s already perfectly settled his way into your chaotic routine, as if he’s already belonged in your day-to-day life. Even if it’s inevitable, the thought of your relationship going back to what it once was𑁋behind a simple screen, a simple text𑁋makes your stomach twist into a knot.

But you can conquer it, right? Most of your relationship has been spent doing long distance, anyway. He could always fly back to see you again, and you could always wait for the opportunity for your schedule to be free to finally cross that threshold into his own life.

This is merely the beginning for the two of you, merely the start of something new.

“You keeping that?” Mingyu’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts, his affectionate eyes watching the way you're threading your fingers through one of his shirts.

“Yeah,” You give him a faint smile. “Smells like you.”

An airy chuckle leaves him, his gaze taking in the saddened, defeated features of your face. He drops the pants he was folding up and picks himself up, sitting down right next to you at the edge of your bed. Leaning in, he presses a reassuring kiss to the tip of your nose, making your face scrunch cutely.

“You know this isn’t the end, right?” he assures, reaching out to lock a hand with yours. “I could always come visit you again. In the summer, most likely.”

“I know,” You reply dispiritedly, running a finger over his knuckle. “but I... I don’t want you to feel pressured to come visit me all the time. You have your own life, Gyu. I don’t want you to put everything on hold for me.”

Mingyu exhales softly, tilting your chin up so you're looking into those dark, warm eyes that seem to hold entire galaxies in them.

“Baby,” he murmurs tenderly. “You are my life.”

Your breath catches at that, and before you can say anything else, he’s already leaning in, capturing your mouth with a slow, sweet, loving kiss. A low whimper leaves you when he trails his lips to place one at the corner of your jaw, his hands finding its way to your waist, drawing you closer to him.

You don’t have it in you to resist𑁋you never could when you’re with him, anyway.

“I don’t care how far apart we are,” he whispers against your skin, the warmth of his breath fanning over you. “I’ll always come back to you. Every single time. I’ll make time for you, no matter what, as long as you have me.”

And you want to have him. For a long time. His words wash over you like a calm, ocean tide, one that laps deliciously up your skin and drags you deeper into his embrace. Your heart beats in time with his, and it feels like you can’t get close enough. His lips brush back along the line of your jaw, and then, with a daring shift of his mouth, he presses a soft kiss to the sensitive spot just below your ear. You inhale sharply, feeling a surge of heat rush through your body.

“Gyu…” You breathe out weakly, but he hears it, of course, the way your body reacts to his touch.

“You’re so cute,” he continues, lips ghosting over the column of your neck. “My girl, my princess, my entire heart. And I’ll make this entire night worth it for you, yeah? So you don’t forget it when I leave.”

The sweet promise of his words spikes up your pulse, rendering you breathless and melting into the arms of your mattress. Mingyu pays particular attention to a sweet spot on your neck, one he’s gotten to know very well now, nipping lightly. Then he lets a hand slide under your shirt, causing you to let out a gasp. The room suddenly feels confining, almost too suffocating to breathe in, yet you crave the closeness to him, the way he makes you feel like you’re the only girl that matters in the world.

“God, I need you,” he pants thickly. “I can’t leave without having you just one last time. Will you let me, baby? Let me love you tonight?”

The only thing you can do is nod, and that’s all it takes. Mingyu slowly peppers his kisses back up to your mouth, pulling away slightly to gaze at you. Desire clouds his half-lidded eyes, but his features reveal nothing short of devotion, adoration, just pure love. Compared to his other kisses from before, the one he simply gives you next is soft, languid.

Then he pulls away from you fully to stand up, and you watch as he grabs the hems of his shirt and pulls it off effortlessly, granting you with the sight of his chiseled, sculpted torso, his honey skin glowing under the dim lighting of your bedroom.

You gulp down a lump in your throat as he steps back towards you, looming over you with the familiar, teasing smirk tugging at his face. Then he dips his head down to catch your lips in a slow, tantalising kiss. His hands find their way to your waist again, fingers pressing firmly as he gently coaxes you backward down to the bed, easing you down with him.

He delicately cages you within the safety of his arms, his warmth swallowing you whole as he hovers above you. His lips don’t just kiss𑁋longing plagues how he lingers, how he tastes you like he’s memorising every inch of your mouth, like he’s afraid to forget the way you feel beneath him once he leaves.

His body shifts slightly, pressing you further into the mattress, slotting a knee between your thighs in a way that makes your head dizzy.

When he pulls back, he relishes the flushed look to your face with pride.

“My pretty girl,” Mingyu praises under his breath, already pushing up the ends of your shirt. “I’m all yours. Always.”

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[rynwritesreid]

I wanna know you, honey| Spencer Reid

A/N: I will be continuing mind games soon I promise, that’s all :)

Summary: Spencer’s wanted since the first time he had seen you, but he is was always to scared to admit his feelings.

Content: idiots in love basically. Smut. 18+. Fem reader. Fluff. Munch! Spencer. Creampie. No mentions of contraception. P in V. Semi dom spencer. Sub reader.

Masterlist| request are open| Navigation

Spencer knew you were so far off limits; it was almost humorous, but he couldn’t get enough of you. He didn’t love you, because he knew he couldn’t love you, but he would give everything he could, including his sky-high IQ, for you two to be in love with each other.

 

Spencer wanted everything from you, he wanted to know what you tasted like, he wanted to know what you looked like first thing in the morning or just after a shower, and he wanted to know what did when you were alone.

 

He often found himself daydreaming about doing mundane, everyday things with you. But shamefully, he also thought what it would be like to have sex with you. He believed you would taste like honey, and if he ever did get a taste of you, he didn’t think he would be able to ever stop himself. He wanted to know how you sounded, what kinks or fantasies you had.

 

Spencer couldn’t shake the thought of you, no matter how hard he tried to distract himself. “Spencer, you either need to tell how you feel, or get a grip man.” Derek stared at Spencer, with a mix of concern and amusement.

 

*

Spencer had neither told you about his feelings, nor got a grip. Instead, he found himself slipping deeper into his fantasies about you. The thought of your smile, your touch, consumed him day and night.

 

“Spencer, have you told her yet?” JJ interrupted his thoughts, her concern evident in her voice. Spencer shifted in his seat, his mind racing with all the possible outcomes of revealing his true emotions to you.

 

He had rehearsed the conversation a million times in his head, each scenario ending with a different reaction from you. The fear of rejection gripped him tightly, paralyzing him from taking that final leap of faith.

 

"I... I haven't found the right moment yet," Spencer stammered, avoiding JJ's piercing gaze. But deep down, he knew it wasn't about timing. It was about finding the courage to lay bare his vulnerable heart before you, risking it all for a chance at something more. And the fact that his boss, saw you as his daughter.

 

You weren’t biologically related to Hotch, but while you attended Georgetown University, you had become Jacks nanny. Hotch was the one who had pushed you to join the FBI and become a profiler. He had become overly protective off you, knowing the dangers of their line of work all too well.

 

“Is it really because you haven’t found the right moment yet, or is the fact that she is that close to Hotch scaring you off?” JJ watched Spencer carefully, knowing there was more to his hesitation than just timing.

 

*

All of Spencer’s thought now were consumed by you, he wanted you, he wanted you more than anything he has ever wanted before. “Hey, Spence. Are you okay? It feels like you’ve been avoiding me.” You whispered, there was a hint of sadness in your voice.

 

"Hey," Spencer replied softly, his heart racing at the sound of your voice. He couldn't bring himself to meet your eyes, afraid that you would see right through him. "I... I've just had a lot on my mind lately."

 

You moved closer, concern etched on your face. "Is there anything you want to talk about? You know you can always confide in me, right?"

 

Why did you have to be so friendly, and genuinely nice and caring. “It’s… its nothing. I know I can always talk to you don’t worry, but there isn’t anything to talk to you about right now.” Spencer swallowed hard, the words he longed to say caught in his throat.

 

“Okay. But if you ever need to talk, I’m here for you.”  Your voice was calming to him, it was something he wished he could listen to constantly. As you walked back to your desk, he noticed Emily and JJ glaring at him.

 

*

You don’t know what time it is, but you hear a light knocking at your door. Before you even start moving towards it, you hear Spencer’s voice, “Hey it’s me.”

 

Without hesitation, you opened the door to find Spencer standing there, his hands nervously fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still.

 

"Spencer, what are you doing here so late?" you asked, trying to ignore the fluttering in your chest at his unexpected visit.

 

He didn’t answer though, he just moved closer to you. His hand cupped your cheek, making you look directly at him. This is the first time you had seen Spencer this close, you could see how plump his lips, how his hair perfectly framed his face, and how his face looked like it had been created by a Greek god.

 

Before you knew it, and before you could ask him again what he was doing here, his lips were on yours.

 

Passionate and intense, his kiss sent a jolt of electricity through you. Spencer's lips were soft yet urgent against yours, as if he had been holding back this desire for far too long. You melted into the kiss, your hands instinctively reaching up to tangle in his hair.

 

“Do you know how long I have wanted to do that?” Spencer whispered against your lips, his breath warm and sweet. His eyes bore into yours, searching for any sign of rejection or hesitation. But all you could see reflected back at you was longing and raw emotion.

 

“How long?” is all you could manage to say. Spencer's answer came in the form of another searing kiss, his hands pulling you closer to him. As you melted into his embrace, you started to wonder if he had wanted this as long as you had. But you didn’t really care, you were just happy it was happening now.

 

As Spencer pulled away from the kiss, all you wanted to do was pull him back into it, you didn’t want the kiss to end. “Which way is your bedroom?” Spencer asked, his voice husky with desire. You raised your arm, and pointed out your bedroom door, and before you could say or do anything else, you felt Spencer pick you up and place you over his shoulder.

 

"Spencer! Put me down, I can walk!" you giggled, feeling a mix of excitement and shock at his actions.

 

"I know, but I don't want to take any chances. Besides, I like carrying you around." he replied with a playful smirk.

 

You had never really thought Spencer would be strong enough to carry you like this. Derek and Hotch certainly looked like they could, but not Spencer. Spencer carried you to your bedroom with ease, though.

 

As he gently set you down on the bed, a rush of anticipation filled the room. His eyes met yours, a mix of adoration and desire swirling in their depths. “Do you want to know what else I’ve wanted to do to you?” Spencer whispered, his voice low and filled with longing. Without waiting for a response, his lips captured yours again in a fervent kiss that left you breathless.

 

His hands wondered your body till he found the hem of your pj shorts. “Is it okay if I take these off?” Spencer asked, his eyes searching for your permission. You nodded slowly, your heart pounding in your chest as you gave him the go-ahead.

 

He slowly pulled down your shorts, revealing your soft skin beneath. Spencer trailed his fingers along your thighs, something he had dreamed off so many times. You felt goosebumps rise on your skin as his touch sent shivers down your spine. He palmed your breasts through your t-shirt, sparking waves of pleasure that left you gasping for air. His lips found your neck, trailing soft kisses that sent desire coursing through your veins.

 

His hands pulled your t-shirt off you, revealing your bare skin. He paused for a moment, taking you in with a mix of admiration and hunger. His lips moved from your necks and down towards your breasts, kissing each one gently. You arched into him, feeling his tongue traces the outline of your nipple, making you moan softly.

His lips then moved on to your stomach, and finally they found their way to your clit.

 

His touch was expertly gentle, yet firm, and you could feel his intense focus on you. You let out a string of moans, your body tense with the desire he was unleashing within you. You could feel your arousal building, the intensity of his fingers and lips working their magic on you.

 

You could feel your orgasm building, the intensity growing with each passing second. It hit you like a tidal wave, waves of pleasure washing over you, your body tensing and then relaxing with each powerful contraction. You cried out, your voice ringing out loud and clear through the room.

 

You tasted as sweet as he thought you would, but he wanted more. He wanted to feel you around him, he wanted to hear you begging for him. As he drew his fingers out from your damp centre, a satisfied smile graced his lips, he knew he had made a profound impact on you.

 

Without missing a beat, he rose above you, his eyes scorching into yours, and positioned himself at your entrance. You looked up at him, fear and anticipation dancing in your eyes. He glanced down at your face, reading your emotions, and caressed your cheek.

 

“Don't worry,” he whispered, aiming to quell those fears gleaming in your gaze. “I'll be gentle, and I'll take care of you.”

 

You felt his warm, hard length nudging against your entrance, and your breathing hitched. He gently pushed himself inside you, and you felt like he was filling you in a way no one else ever could. Your eyes widened in a mixture of shock and pleasure.

 

Slowly, he began to move, thrusting into you with a steady rhythm. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into you with each movement. The sensation was indescribable, like fire and ice coursing through your veins.

 

Your fingers dug into his back, pulling him closer as the pleasure built within you. “Harder, please.” You begged; your voice barely audible above the pounding of your heart.

Spencer, not one to deny you anything, increased his pace, driving into you harder and faster. His eyes locked onto yours, and you could see the raw passion and need reflected back at you.

It wasn't long before the tension within you reached its peak, and you cried out as you collapsed over the edge. Spencer's thrusts grew more intense, and before you knew it, he too was surrendering to the pleasure, the satisfaction of giving you what you've always needed.

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[dreamersparacosm]

jeon jungkook - under the checkered flag (part five)

warnings ; talk of blood and injuries (kinda?) but that’s it!

prompt : in which a girl who doesn’t believe in risks takes the biggest one of all—falling for a man who lives for the thrill.

note ; guys why am i depressed about part six being the last part. i will miss my pookie so badddd :((

also, why did I get turned on writing about injured jk…girl. anywho — it’s crazy to me that this story has amassed over 3000 notes like… i love u all!! (make sure to listen to snow on the beach by taylor for the first part of this chapter ;’))

playlist here

series masterlist here

A few days pass.

Yet the man hasn’t left your mind. You’ve tried to shake it off, tried to go about your days like normal, but the problem is: nothing feels normal anymore. Not since Maya’s party, not since that night in his car, not since he told you not like this. Not since you woke up the next morning, lips tingling with the ghost of a kiss that never happened.

You’re so screwed.

It’s a crush — a full-blown, heart-thudding, stomach-flipping, ridiculous kind of crush.

The kind that makes you overly aware of every little thing he does. The way he texts you throughout the day, the way he always waits for your reaction when he says something funny, the way he watches you sometimes, really watches you, like he’s waiting for something.

And the worst part? Nothing has changed, yet everything has changed.

Jungkook still invites you over like he always does, still texts you pictures of puzzles he’s working on, still shows up at your door with a bottle of wine like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Today is just another one of those days.

It’s raining outside, the steady hum of water against the windows filling his home. The air smells like fresh coffee and buttered popcorn, and a half-played movie flickers dimly on the screen as you curl up in the corner of his couch, knees tucked under you.

It’s comfortable. Familiar.

Unfortunately, to your dismay, his stupid, soft, obnoxiously pink lips, the ones you almost felt against your own, the ones that hovered so close to yours that night in his car, the ones that have been torturing you for days now.

It’s ridiculous. You’re ridiculous.

Ever since that night, you haven’t been able to stop. Not during work, not during your commute, not even in the silent moments before you fall asleep because your brain won’t let you. It replays everything, like some cruel, never-ending loop. His voice, his gaze, the way he held you so gently as he carried you up your apartment stairs.

You’re obsessed with the almost, with the what if, with the thought of how it would’ve felt if he hadn’t stopped.

Maybe it’s the way he’s sitting beside you, one arm thrown over the back of the couch, his other hand absentmindedly playing with a loose thread on his sweatpants. Maybe it’s the way his knee brushes against yours every so often, something almost deliberate in the way he doesn’t move away. Maybe it’s just you.

Your heart is doing too much, your body feels too warm, and suddenly, sitting next to him feels like the most dangerous thing you’ve ever done.

You clear your throat, shifting slightly, trying to act normal. “This movie sucks.”

Jungkook glances at you, one brow lifting. “You picked it.”

You groan, hiding your face in your hands. “I know. But I thought it would be one of those so bad it’s good movies.”

He smirks, sinking lower into the couch, arms stretching wider. “It’s just bad.”

You peek at him through your fingers, m lips twitching. “I regret everything.”

Jungkook hums, tilting his head like he’s thinking. “I could save you from your suffering.”

You blink. “How?”

His smirk deepens. “Turn it into a drinking game.”

You gasp, scandalized. “It’s literally three in the afternoon.”

Jungkook shrugs. “And?”

You glare. “You’re a bad influence.”

“And you’re boring,” he teases, nudging your knee with his. “Live a little.”

You scoff, crossing your arms. “I do live.”

Jungkook snorts, eyes glinting with amusement. “Do you?”

You narrow your eyes. “Yes.”

He leans in slightly, voice dropping, taunting. “Then prove it.”

Your face heats. “I—”

Then you realize. This isn’t about the movie. This isn’t about anything you’re saying at all. This is about the way he’s looking at you, the way his voice dips low whenever he talks to you, the way his eyes flicker to your lips more often than they should. This is about the other night, you’re almost certain of it (and that holds weight, considering you may be as clueless as a child.)

Your breath hitches, pulse hammering beneath your skin, and you scramble for something to pull yourself back. “I live,” you blurt out.

Jungkook grins, watching you squirm. “Oh, yeah?”

You nod too quickly, too obviously. “Yes. I—I do things. Fun things.”

His smirk widens. “Like what?”

You freeze.

Your mind goes completely blank.

Jungkook laughs, tipping his head back, the sound rich, deeper than it should be. “Oh my god.”

You groan, hiding in your hoodie, absolutely mortified. Yet, a hand tugs your sleeve down, fingers brushing against your wrist, warm and gentle. Suddenly, you’re so aware of him again. Of how close he is. Of how the teasing is still there, but the energy has shifted, gone heavier, quieter, something else creeping into his expression, something that makes your stomach twist.

You swallow, throat tight. “What?”

Jungkook’s gaze lingers, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. “You always get shy when I look at you like this," he murmurs, voice low and careful.

You open your mouth, speechless, but he tilts his head slightly, gaze never leaving yours.

"It’s cute," he continues, soft but deliberate.

This doesn’t feel mundane at all. Your stomach twists and turns like those pretzels you used to get at the mall as a kid. You know what he’s doing — knows he sees right through you, knows he’s teasing you for the way your pulse stumbles and your fingers twitch whenever he gets too close. It works every time.

You clear your throat, eyes flickering away, trying to shake the warmth creeping up your neck. “Stop that.”

Jungkook grins, all lazy amusement, the corner of his mouth twitching like he’s thoroughly enjoying your embarrassment.

“Stop what?” he muses, tilting his head, fingers drumming against the couch.

Your eyes narrow. “Looking at me like that.”

He hums, pretending to think. “Like what?”

“Like—” You wave a hand at him, flustered. “Like that.”

Jungkook laughs, head tilting back,“You are so bad at this.”

You glare, grabbing a pillow and chucking it at him. “Shut up.”

It hits him square in the chest, and his laughter dies instantly.

You freeze. He blinks in response.

“Oh,” Jungkook murmurs, fingers curling around the pillow like he’s just now realizing the power he holds. “That’s how we’re playing this?”

You scramble backward, suddenly regretting everything. “Wait—”

Too late.

The pillow collides with your face, and you squeal, grabbing it before swinging back twice as hard, and suddenly it’s a war zone.

Feathers fly. Laughter erupts, breathless and wild, pillows smacking into shoulders, arms, legs. Jungkook is relentless, attacking without mercy, and you can barely breathe between your giggles, between the way he’s so unfairly quick at dodging your swings.

“You’re cheating!” you gasp, ducking as he swings again.

Jungkook grins, dodging another one of your feeble attempts. “How?”

“You just—” You lunge, shoving a pillow against his chest, pushing him back.

Somehow you both lose balance, and now, you’re too close. His weight shifts, his arm reaching out to steady himself, and then his face is inches from yours.

Your laughter dies, breath stalls.

The room feels too quiet, warm, suddenly too cramped.

Your fingers are still curled around the pillow, but you don’t move. You can’t.

Jungkook doesn’t either.

His lips part slightly, chest rising and falling too slow, too deep, his eyes locked onto yours like he’s waiting for something.

The thudding pulse in your ears, the heat coiling low in your stomach, the way his breath mixes with yours, close enough that if you just—

No.

Your brain kicks in, and you move first. A sharp inhale, a jerk away, a desperate scramble to the opposite end of the couch.

Distance. You need space.

Jungkook blinks, like he’s coming back to himself. Like he wasn’t just about to… He wouldn’t.. right? You can’t think about it.

So you do what you’ve done since you were young enough to comprehend basic human emotions. You deflect.

You grab another pillow and toss it at his face, laughing too quickly, too forced. “Truce?”

Jungkook catches it midair, gaze still unreadable. He smirks.

But this time, it’s not smug. It’s something else entirely.Something that makes your stomach flip, your chest tighten, your skin burn.

The pillow fight dies down, the last of your laughter melting into the air, breathless and warm. You’re both a little flushed, a little too aware of each other, but neither of you acknowledge it.

No, he doesn’t dare speak on the way his hands almost brushed against your waist. Or, the way you caught yourself staring at his lips when you landed too close. Or, the way you ran to the other side of the couch like your life depended on it.

Instead, you’re both acting worse than two petulant children who are trying to hide the candy supply in the classroom.

Jungkook shifts, stretching an arm over the back of the couch, sinking into the cushions like the last few minutes hadn’t completely ruined you (or him, for that matter.)

You do the same, try to focus on the movie flickering across the screen, try to calm your pulse, try to not think about the heat radiating from his body just inches from yours.

Now, as the glow of the screen casts soft shadows over his face, you’re even more hyper-aware of everything. You watch way his fingers tap idly against his knee. The slow rise and fall of his chest. The effortless, maddening way he exists beside you.

You hate him. You really, really hate him.

You let out a slow breath, forcing your gaze forward, gripping the edge of the blanket draped over your lap. Focus. It’s just a movie.

A terrible movie, but still, a movie nonetheless—

“Do you remember what you said when you were drunk?”

Your body locks up, fingers tightening against the fabric of the blanket as your heart skips a beat. Slowly, too slowly, you turn your head.

Jungkook isn’t looking at the movie anymore.

He’s looking at you.

The weight of his gaze presses into you, steady, unreadable, dark eyes flickering.

You try to play dumb. “What?”

Jungkook tilts his head slightly, expression too neutral. Like he’s just making conversation. Like he’s not throwing you into complete chaos right now.

"You said you wanted to kiss me."

Silence.

Your stomach twists into knots. Heat floods your face, your entire body suddenly warm, stiff, undeniably trapped in this moment with him.

He’s watching you so carefully, giving you a chance to deny it. You know you can’t.

You remember. You remember too well. It’s actually the only part of the night that replays in your head like a broken record. You clear your throat, swallowing past the dryness, voice barely above a whisper. “..Yeah.”

Jungkook exhales, just slightly, just enough for his lips to part again, and you make the mistake of looking at them.

The word hangs between you, fragile, dangerous, like it might shatter if you move too fast.

He doesn’t speak right away, doesn’t shift, doesn’t react. He just watches you, gaze heavy, dark, unreadable. And the way he’s looking at you, like he’s waiting, like he’s already bracing himself for what happens next makes your stomach flip.

“You think about it?” His voice is quiet, deep, deliberate.

You should lie. You should play it off, should laugh, should look away and act like he’s reading too much into this.

Your fingers twitch in your lap, throat too dry, pulse hammering against your ribs. “… Do you?”

His jaw tenses, his body too still, too controlled, like he’s holding something back. His voice is low when he finally answers. “All the time.”

There it is.

No teasing. No playful smirks.

Just the truth.

Your nails dig into the couch cushion, your body frozen between running away and leaning in. “Jungkook…”

He exhales slowly, eyes flickering between yours, something like hesitation, like restraint flickering behind them. You blurt out “You’re looking at me like you want me to kiss you.”

“…Would you?” Your voice is barely above a whisper. “If I let you?”

The words slip out before you can stop them, soft, unguarded, trembling at the edges. And the moment they do, time seems to slow, wrapping itself around the weight of what you’ve just said. You are not the kind of person who speaks without thinking. You measure your words, tuck your feelings away where no one can reach them. But here, now, in this fleeting second where everything feels just right, your heart betrays you. Your pulse pounds in your throat, heat crawling up your neck, a slow, aching bloom of realization. You shouldn’t have said it. You don’t say things like this.

Jungkook’s face tightens, jaw clenching, something dangerous and desperate flashing across his face. “Don’t test me.” His voice is low, strained, warning.

That is what does it for you. And maybe you should back away. Maybe you should slow down. Maybe you should stop pretending this isn’t going to happen.

His fingers move. Not in a rush. Not deliberate. Just… easy. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world, his thumb brushes along your jaw, tilting your chin up slightly, just enough to make you look at him. His touch is barely there, but it’s everywhere, searing into you, sending sparks down your spine.

“You still want me to kiss you?" His voice is soft. Careful. But the way his thumb lingers against your skin, the way his eyes darken just slightly, the way his breath mixes with yours, it’s not careful at all.

Your body betrays you before your brain can catch up, leaning into his touch, tilting your chin just slightly closer. You don’t even know if you’re breathing.

For a moment—just a moment—he gives you the chance to back out.

He lingers there, breath uneven, fingers still holding you in place, his body too still, like he’s waiting, waiting for you to come to your senses, to pull away, to break whatever this is before it fully unravels between you.

You won’t. Right now, every single thought, every ounce of hesitation, every reason you had to keep your distance, it is floating in the wind with the rest of your fucks, because all you can think about is him.

His lips are right there, warm, soft, barely a whisper away from yours.

You close the distance. Jungkook reacts instantly.

The moment your lips touch, his restraint shatters completely.

A sharp inhale, a slight hitch in his breath, and then he’s on you. His fingers tighten against your jaw, tilting your face up exactly how he wants it, his other hand gripping the couch beside you, caging you in, keeping you there.

God, it’s everything.

Slow, deep, hungry, like he’s been waiting for this for so long it’s physically painful. Your lips part, and he takes full advantage, kissing you deeper, harder, letting his lips move with so much purpose you can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but feel everything he’s pouring into this moment.

It is as if, in that single, breathtaking moment, every fear and every hesitation is washed away by the warmth of his embrace. His desire for you is evident in every nuance: the way his eyes close a little tighter, the way his hand lingers a moment longer, as if trying to memorize every curve of your face. You feel him wanting you, wanting you so badly it hurts, and that longing wraps around you like a promise.

The cool metal of his lip ring brushes against your mouth, contrasting the heat of his kiss, making you dizzy, making you press closer without meaning to. Jungkook groans into your mouth, a sound low, rough, completely wrecked, like he’s feeling every second of this as intensely as you are.

His hand slides to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair, tilting your head just enough for him to deepen the kiss.

You sigh into him, letting yourself melt, letting yourself give in, and the moment you do, his fingers twitch against your skin, like he feels you surrender, like he knows exactly what this means.

It’s more than just a kiss. It’s him wanting you. Not just now, not just tonight—but always, like he’s said a thousand times over.

You feel it, in the way his lips move against yours, in the way he devours you slowly, in the way his hands never leave your skin, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

No man has ever kissed you like this. No man has ever wanted you like this. It’s overwhelming, intoxicating, undoing you completely.

And when you finally pull back—just barely, just enough to breathe—he chases you.

His lips brush against yours again, soft but desperate, like he can’t stand the distance.

You don’t even realize you’re doing it at first.

Your fingers drift upward, brushing lightly against his jaw, and then the cool metal of his lip ring, pressed so perfectly against his lower lip, catching slightly where your mouths meet.

It’s distracting, fascinating, and without thinking, your tongue flicks against it, curious, experimental, testing the feel of it against your own lips.

Jungkook nearly combusts in his own home.

He makes a sound that is low, deep, something that rumbles through his chest, and his fingers tighten against your skin, like he’s holding himself back from something much worse.

He pulls back, just barely, lips still brushing against yours, his breath hot, heavy, uneven.

His eyes are half-lidded, dark, hold yours with something so intense it makes your stomach flip.

"This is really hot, you know," he murmurs, voice raspy, ruined, like he wasn’t expecting this, like you’ve completely wrecked him without even realizing it.

Before you can even think of responding, before you can feel even an ounce of embarrassment, Jungkook pulls you back in.

He’s done pretending, done holding back, done waiting for permission.

The kiss is hungry, dizzying, lips parting, bodies pressing, fingers gripping, heat pooling low in your stomach as he devours you whole. Your shy giggle breaks between kisses, flustered and light, but Jungkook doesn’t stop, doesn’t even give you a chance to catch your breath.

He just grins against your lips, barely pulling back, murmuring something soft, something teasing, before diving back in.

You finally pull away, giggly, breathless, completely undone. Your skin is flushed, burning, your lips tingling with the ghost of his, and you can’t stop the embarrassed little laugh that escapes you as you tuck your face into your hands.

Jungkook?

Jungkook looks so smug, grinning like he just won first place at a national race, his head tilting as he watches you absolutely dissolve in front of him.

“Oh my god,” you mumble into your hands, mortified.

He chuckles, voice warm, teasing, endlessly amused. “What?”

You peek at him through your fingers, face burning, and he’s too close, too gorgeous, too smug about how easily he wrecks you.

“That was—” You pause, flustered, shaking your head before hiding your face again.

Jungkook laughs, tilting his head back against the couch.

“That was…?” he prompts, mischievous, completely entertained by your suffering.

You shake your head faster, burying yourself deeper into your hands. “Shut up.”

Jungkook grins. “Not a chance.”

You peek at him again, still horribly, painfully shy, but his smile is so warm, so easy, and you can’t help but laugh, your own nervous energy spilling over.

For a few seconds, neither of you speak, just sitting there, drunk off each other, off this moment, off the fact that you actually kissed him and survived it.

You let out a small breath, playing with the hem of your sweater, still so painfully shy when you murmur, “…I really like kissing you.”

The words are barely there, so soft he almost misses them, but the second they register, Jungkook freezes. Then, his grin widens, eyes lighting up with something dangerous and smug and pleased. “Oh, yeah?”

You instantly regret everything. God, why were you given the right to speak? Your face erupts in heat, and you bury your head into his shoulder, groaning into his hoodie. “Stop.”

Jungkook laughs, giddy, boyish, his chest shaking beneath you. “Say it again.”

You shove at his arm. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re annoying.”

He’s beaming, completely unfazed. “Oh, come on. You liked it. You just said so.”

You try to glare at him, but your lips betray you, twitching up at the corners, and Jungkook knows he’s won.

“So…” His voice is lighter now, careful, curious. “Are we friends who kiss?”

The air shifts, just slightly, just enough to remind you that this isn’t just teasing anymore. You really don’t know what to say to that, because the truth is, you have no idea what you are anymore.

And from the way Jungkook is looking at you, like he’s waiting for an answer, like he actually wants to know, you think maybe he doesn’t, either.

“…Do you kiss all your friends like that?” It’s quiet, barely above a whisper, but you feel the way it hits him instantly.

Jungkook exhales, a slow, measured breath, his fingers tapping against his knee like he’s thinking, debating, deciding what to say next. “Only the cute ones,” he murmurs.

Your breath stumbles, heart stammering, warmth spreading down your spine as you scramble for composure. You roll your eyes, shoving at his arm, playing it off even as your fingers tremble slightly. “You’re impossible.”

Jungkook chuckles, tilting his head at you, his expression so unbearably fond it makes your chest ache.

“So…” he continues, smirking. “That’s a yes, then?”

Your brows furrow. “A yes to what?”

“To us being friends who kiss.”

The teasing is back in his tone, light and playful, but there’s something else underneath it, something hesitant, something that feels too careful, too deliberate.

If you agree to this, to whatever this is, then what happens when it’s not enough anymore? What happens when you wake up one day and realize that being his friend isn’t enough anymore?

You swallow hard, pulse pounding, lips parting before you even realize you’re speaking. “..Maybe, I—I don’t...”

It’s softer than you mean for it to be, quieter, almost like an admission you shouldn’t be making.

Jungkook hears it. You see the way his smirk falters just slightly, the way his fingers flex against the couch like he’s reining himself in, like he’s forcing himself to keep this playful, to keep this from turning into something real.

“Hey,” he murmurs, voice lower now, gentler. “It’s just a question.”

It’s not just a question. Not to you. Not to him.

But instead of pushing, instead of pressing, instead of forcing you to define something you’re still too scared to name, Jungkook just smiles, nudging your knee with his. “Don’t think too hard about it, okay?”

Somehow, that makes it worse. He’s giving you an out, he’s letting you pretend. That should make you feel relieved. Instead, it just makes your stomach twist.

Because if Jungkook is willing to pretend, if he’s willing to let you call this nothing, then why does it feel like everything?

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

You and Jungkook still talk every day. Still text constantly, still tease each other like you always have. He still calls you at random hours, voice warm, casual, like he just likes knowing what you’re doing. You still pretend it doesn’t make your stomach flip when he tells you about his day, when he asks about yours, when he remembers the smallest details you barely remember telling him. You still spend time together, still find yourselves in each other’s spaces like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

But now, there’s something undeniable sitting between you. A weight to every glance, a meaning to every touch, a charge in the air whenever you get too close.

You feel it in the way his hand lingers on your back when he walks beside you, in the way his knee brushes yours when you sit too close on his couch. In the way he looks at you like he’s waiting for something. Like he’s waiting for you to admit what you both already know.

And maybe that’s why this time, when he tells you to come to another race, it feels different.

Before, he invited you.

But this time?

This time, it’s a demand, not a request.

"You’re coming to my race this weekend."

Not if you want to. Not if you’re free. Just come, like there was never a chance you’d say no. There really wasn’t.

When you get there, when you arrive at the track expecting to be in the stands with the rest of the civilians, expecting to be just another face in the crowd, you realize this time, he’s put you somewhere else. Somewhere closer. Somewhere that means something. You’re no longer in the stands.You’re with his crew, his manager, with the people who are part of his world, part of him.

And as you stand there, watching the way his team moves around you like you belong, wearing the NASCAR jacket with his last name on it that he draped over your shoulders without a word, you realize: You’re not just a spectator anymore. You’re fitting into his life. He is making you space for you. It’s a statement, intentional or not—he’s treating you like someone important. He’s branding you as his.

So it’s not surprising when Jungkook walks over to you, where his manager stands, and his eyes are gleaming with happiness. You see him before he even reaches you, his racing suit already zipped up, sleek black and red, fitted perfectly to his frame, the number on his chest stark against the fabric.

It’s the way he’s looking at you, like you’re his favorite part of this whole damn day.

"Well," he grins, voice warm, breathless with excitement as he reaches you. "You ready to watch me be incredible?"

You roll your eyes, but your heart flutters anyway.

"You’re already insufferable, and the race hasn’t even started," you murmur, pretending like his presence isn’t throwing you completely off balance.

Jungkook laughs, tilting his head at you, gaze flickering down to the VIP lanyard resting against your chest before meeting your eyes again.

"Looks good on you," he muses.

You blink, confused. "What does?"

"My name."

Your breath stalls. And it’s only then that you realize, printed in bold across your lanyard, just below the race’s credentials, are the words: Guest of Jeon Jungkook.

You swallow, suddenly hyper-aware of everything—the weight of the jacket he lent you, the way his team has already accepted your presence without question, the way he’s so clearly staking his claim without actually saying it.

So you just huff, crossing your arms. "You’re the worst."

Jungkook grins, completely unbothered. "Heard that before.”

Before you can argue, before you can figure out a response, he leans in slightly, voice lower now, teasing.

"Anyway," he murmurs, "I think you forgot something."

You blink. "…What?"

Jungkook tilts his head, feigning deep thought. "I mean, I could be wrong, but I swear I heard that a good luck kiss is mandatory."

Your brain short-circuits, entire face igniting. Jungkook just smirks, thoroughly enjoying your visible meltdown.

"I—" Your voice betrays you, barely there, caught somewhere between shock and disbelief. "You’re making that up."

He gasps, placing a dramatic hand over his heart. "You think I’d lie to you?"

You give him the flattest look possible.

Jungkook grins wider, eyes twinkling with mischief, waiting, because he knows you, knows exactly how to get under your skin, knows exactly how flustered you are right now.

The worst part? He’s right. Because now you can’t not think about it. The idea of kissing him, the thought of pressing your lips to his, even if just for a second.

Your hands curl at your sides, nerves running wild, and you glance away, feeling impossibly warm under his gaze.

"Fine," you mumble.

Jungkook stills. "Wait, really?"

You roll your eyes, stepping forward, standing on your tiptoes before you can psych yourself out, before your heart makes you back down.

You lean in, pressing the softest, tiniest, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it peck to his cheek. It’s barely anything, just a whisper of warmth against his skin, a brush of your lips that ends before it even starts.

When you pull back, Jungkook is frozen.

"Oh, come on," he groans, whining like a child, tilting his head dramatically. "That was barely a kiss!"

Your cheeks burn. "You didn’t say how long it had to be, or where!"

Jungkook pouts. "That’s cheating."

"It’s not cheating!"

"It is," he argues, grinning now, eyes flickering down to your lips before meeting your gaze again. "But I’ll let it slide for now."

You huff, but before you can fire back, his team starts calling him over, signaling that it’s time. Jungkook lingers, just for a second, then tilts his head at you, so effortlessly charming it’s infuriating.

"Wish me luck?"

You sigh, but smile despite yourself. "Good luck, Jungkook."

His grin widens, but before he turns to leave, he reaches out, fingers brushing the sleeve of his jacket on your shoulders.

"You look good in this, too," he says, softer now.

And then he’s gone, walking toward his car, leaving you completely ruined in his wake.

One moment, Jungkook is standing in front of you, all teasing grins and warm eyes. The next, he’s walking toward the starting grid, toward his car, toward the adrenaline-fueled world that belongs to him in a way you’ll never fully understand.

The pre-race ritual begins like clockwork.

The track is a beast of its own, surrounded by a sea of flashing cameras, roaring fans, and the pulsing hum of engines warming up. Crew members move with quick precision, adjusting final setups, checking tires, fueling the machines that are about to push beyond human limits.

The announcers’ voices boom through the speakers, a mix of excited commentary and statistical breakdowns, analyzing lap times, weather conditions, and strategies for the coming race.

Jungkook steps onto the grid like he was born for this moment.

His racing suit fits like a second skin, sleek black and red, his name embroidered over his chest, sponsor logos lining the fabric. His gloved hands adjust the collar before he rolls his shoulders, his signature pre-race routine.

He waves to the crowd and the stands erupt.A deafening roar of cheers, whistles, and screams fills the air, the sound vibrating through the track, through the very ground beneath your feet. His name is on thousands of signs, chanted by fans in unison, a presence so overwhelming that it sends a chill down your spine.

Yet, Jungkook is calm. He grins, tipping his head toward the cameras, radiating a confidence that seems almost effortless. He acknowledges the love with a quick lift of his gloved hand before turning toward his car.

Your heart skips as he moves. Because while everyone else sees a world-class driver, a champion at the peak of his game, you truly see him. The man who just asked you for a good luck kiss like it was nothing. The man who threw his jacket over your shoulders without a second thought. The man who made sure you weren’t just in the crowd this time but standing with his people.

Your fingers tighten around the lanyard at your chest. And then, he finds you. Even in the chaos, even as the pit crews move, even as his race engineer talks into his earpiece, giving him last-minute data, his gaze lands on you.

For a brief second, the noise fades. Jungkook doesn’t wave this time. He just smirks, cocky, knowing, completely at ease with the fact that you’re watching him like you can’t help it.

You can’t find yourself to look away, not as he slips into the cockpit of his car, pulling down his visor. Not as the five red lights illuminate above the track, signaling the countdown. Not as the entire world seems to hold its breath.

Lights out.

Jungkook disappears in a blur of speed.

Somehow, you swear you’re screaming louder than anyone else. Your hands are clutched together, heart hammering against your ribs, breath shallow with anticipation as you watch him maneuver the track like he was born for this, his car weaving through turns, slicing through air with an ease that is almost inhuman.

You’ve watched enough races now to understand what’s happening, to know how to read the screen displaying his lap times, to recognize the strategic braking, the calculated risks he takes with each hairpin turn.

He’s flying.

The crowd is a blur of screams and chants, his name echoing through the stadium like a heartbeat, like a pulse. His manager and crew are behind you, murmuring low, speaking in code—numbers, tire wear, fuel calculations—but none of it registers.

All you can see is him.

Lap 47.

Only a few more to go.

Your grip tightens on the lanyard around your neck, the one with his name on it, the one that shouldn’t mean anything but suddenly means everything.

Before you can even recognize it, your nightmare, something you hadn’t dared let yourself think of as a possibility, happens. A flash of movement, a miscalculated overtake, a split-second misjudgment. Another car veers too close and clips into Jungkook’s left side.

The impact is instant.

His car jerks violently, spinning, tires screeching, rubber burning against asphalt and all you really see is his car disappear into the wall.

A sickening crunch of metal, the screech of carbon fiber against steel, and the entire stadium gasps as his car slams into the barrier.

Your breath vanishes. Your vision tunnels, ears ringing with static, with silence, with nothing.

No.

No, no, no.

Your body moves before your mind can catch up, hands clutching at the railing, eyes wild, scanning the wreckage, searching for movement, for a sign, for anything.

He’s not moving.

He’s not getting out.

“Jungkook,” you whisper, but your voice is lost, drowned out by the deafening roar of the stadium, the panic crackling through the radios, the blur of pit crews surging forward.

Your stomach twists, a horrible, gut-wrenching nausea that makes your knees weak, makes your hands tremble as you try to breathe, think, stay calm.

He’s in that car, in that wreckage, in that moment that feels like it will never end.

And for the first time, it truly hits you. This isn’t just a game. This isn’t just fast cars and roaring crowds and celebratory champagne. This is danger. This is risk. This is him—the boy who steals your breath with his teasing, who ruins you with his smiles, who kisses you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he doesn’t hold on tight enough—and you can’t lose him.

Not like this, not ever.

A hand grips your arm. You think it’s his manager, trying to pull you back, saying something, but you’re already shaking your head, panic clawing at your throat.

“No,” you gasp, barely hearing yourself over the screams, the commotion, the static of the radios going off in every direction. “No, I—I have to—”

His manager tightens his grip, voice sharp. “You can’t go down there.”

But you don’t care. It’s a madhouse. Crew members are shouting, paramedics are sprinting, cameras are flashing, the entire stadium is a blur of chaos and noise and fear, and you’re inconsolable.

The second you saw that car slam into the wall, the second he stopped moving, the second the world seemed to hold its breath, something inside you snapped.

Tears stream down your face, hot and endless, your breath ragged, uneven, your entire body trembling so hard you can barely stand upright.

The grip on your arm tightens, grounding you just enough to hear his manager’s voice, low but firm, “They’re getting him out, do you hear me? They’re getting him out.”

You blink, vision blurred, pulse pounding so loudly it drowns out everything else—

At first, it’s barely anything.

A shift, a stretch, a stir. But then, you see it.

His legs move as they left him onto the stretcher. You squint further, and see his mouth move. He’s talking.

Your body lurches forward before you even realize what you’re doing, instincts overriding logic, pure desperation taking control.

You don’t care about the barricades, about security, about the fact that you’re not supposed to be on the track, you just need to get to him. Need to see him, touch him, hear him, know that he’s okay.

The grip on your arm yanks you back, pulling you against a solid chest, holding you in place.

“Let me go,” you sob, struggling, trying to break free. “Let me go, I have to—I have to—”

Your head whips around so fast it makes you dizzy, breath catching as your eyes find him, arms slung over two paramedics, legs shaky but strong, face bruised but alive.

He’s alive.

A broken, helpless sob escapes you, your hand flying to your mouth as you watch them carry him out, watch the way he winces slightly.

Something in your chest completely shatters.

You try to run to him again, try to close the distance, but his manager’s grip is ironclad, shaking his head.

“Come on,” he mutters. “We’re going with him.”

And that’s the only reason you stop fighting.

The world moves in a blur. You barely register the security leading you out of the pit lane, barely hear the frantic voices of the racing officials as they try to control the chaos.

The only thing that matters is the sight of Jungkook being loaded into the ambulance.

And suddenly, you’re moving again, faster this time, pushing past people as his manager guides you forward, urgency burning in your veins like wildfire.

By the time you reach the ambulance, the doors are thrown open, paramedics working around him, barking orders at each other, checking vitals, assessing injuries.

You lose it.

Jungkook looks worse up close.

His racing suit is partially unzipped, revealing a deepening bruise along his collarbone, a few scrapes on his arm where his glove had torn. There’s a gash on his brow, blood trickling sluggishly down his temple, his lip slightly split.

His eyes are lidded, drowsy, like he’s trying to fight the weight of exhaustion pulling at him.

“No, no, no—” Your voice bursts out before you can stop it, frantic, borderline hysterical. “What the hell are you guys doing? Are you checking for concussions? What about internal bleeding? What if he has a brain injury?”

The paramedics barely have time to respond before you whirl on his manager, eyes wild. “Why the hell did it take so long to get him out of the car?”

His manager blinks, startled, before sighing. “He was conscious the whole time—”

“And you let him sit there?!” you shriek. “He crashed into a fucking wall!”

Jungkook groans, head rolling slightly toward you, voice raspy.

“[Y/N], baby,” he murmurs. “Breathe.”

The pet name should throw you off, should have you collapsing and needing medical assistance with him. Your whole body is on fire. But you can’t.

He’s sitting there—bruised, bloody, hurt—and yet no one is doing enough.

You turn back to the paramedics, furious, pointing at the one nearest to Jungkook’s head. “Are you even checking for neurological symptoms? Do you have the equipment for that? Are you taking him to the hospital?”

The paramedic blinks at you, mildly alarmed. “Uh—”

“She’s, uh, kind of scary,” one of them mutters under his breath.

Another laughs, shaking his head. “Damn, Jungkook, you got your girl all worried.”

Jungkook smirks like this isn’t a life-threatening situation, his voice light despite the exhaustion.

“Hmph” His gaze is half-lidded but amused, his lips curling just slightly. “They think you’re my girl.”

Your face burns. Now is not the time for this.

You ignore him, refuse to entertain the teasing, focusing instead on the medics fumbling around him like they aren’t treating the most important person in the world. Or, well, maybe your world.

“You need to check his pupils,” you cross your arms over your chest. “Monitor his speech patterns, make sure he isn’t concussed.”

Jungkook chuckles under his breath, shaking his head slightly. “You’re really going hard for this whole crazy girlfriend thing, huh?”

That is what makes you snap.

“Are you kidding me?” Your voice rises, eyes blazing as you step closer, nearly climbing into the ambulance. “You just crashed into a wall at almost 200 miles per hour, Jungkook. You could have died.”

The teasing disappears from his expression. The laughter fades. He’s just looking at you, eyes flickering over your face, taking in the panic still vibrating under your skin, the unfiltered fear in your eyes.

His throat bobs. For a moment, neither of you speak.

One of the paramedics snickers, cutting through the heavy silence. “She looks ready to throw hands with us.”

Jungkook huffs a quiet laugh, still staring at you, expression unreadable. Finally, he sighs, tilting his head toward you, voice softer now.

“[Y/N],” he murmurs, low and tired His gaze holds yours, dark and unwavering, “I’m okay.”

The words barely leave his lips before you snap back, voice firm, unwavering, “I’m coming with you."

Jungkook blinks.

His manager sighs.

The paramedics exchange glances, one of them stepping forward with a practiced, professional tone. “Ma’am, we need to get him to the hospital—”

“I know,” you cut in, eyes sharp, stance unshakable. “That’s why I’m going, too.”

There’s a beat of hesitation, a moment where the paramedics clearly debate pushing back, but they know they don’t stand a chance.

Your hands are already clenched into fists, your jaw is set, and your eyes are daring anyone to challenge you.

And Jungkook?

Jungkook just stares at you, completely stunned.

Because you’re not backing down.

Because his shy girl—the one who stumbles over words, the one who avoids attention, the one who blushes when he teases her—is gone. Instead, in her place is someone fierce, unwavering, absolutely insane about him.

He’s never been more obsessed in his life.

“Fine,” the paramedic relents, throwing his hands up, stepping aside. “Get in.”

You don’t waste a second.

Jungkook just grins, a shit-eating one that nearly splits his face in half.

The sirens wail above you, the vehicle rocking slightly with each turn, but you don’t care. You’re sitting on the tiny bench next to Jungkook, his fingers wrapped around yours, and you can’t stop staring at him.

Even like this—bruised, banged up, a small cut on his lip—he’s still beautiful. His eyes, despite the exhaustion, watch you closely, dark and soft, filled with adoration. His fingers squeeze yours, thumb brushing over your knuckles, his voice lower now, teasing but so warm it makes your chest ache.

“So,” he murmurs, grinning despite his split lip, “you always manhandle paramedics, or is that just for me?”

Your jaw drops.

Jungkook laughs, the sound low, husky, completely unaffected by the fact that he’s in a damn ambulance right now.

“You’re ridiculous,” you mumble, squeezing his hand just a little too hard, trying to cover up the warmth spreading through your cheeks.

Jungkook hums, tilting his head at you. “You know what would make me feel better?”

You roll your eyes, already knowing where this is going. “What?”

“A good luck kiss,” he murmurs, boyish and smug, despite everything. “Almost worked last time.”

“You’re insane.”

“So is that a no?”

You scoff, but your free hand moves before you can stop it, fingers gently brushing through his hair, sweeping the dark strands away from his face.

His eyes flicker, lips parting slightly, gaze locked onto yours like he can’t look anywhere else.

And suddenly, you’re both silent. Your hand is still in his hair, your fingers lightly tracing along his temple, and it feels so natural, so easy, so dangerous in a way you don’t know how to control.

His breath is slow, deliberate, his thumb still moving against your knuckles, and the way he’s looking at you, like he’s falling just a little harder every second you touch him, it’s all too much.

So, before you can overthink it, before you can talk yourself out of it, you lean in and press the softest, lightest peck against his lips. When you pull back, Jungkook just stares at you, completely still.

“Damn,” he breathes, grinning despite the slight wince. “I think I feel better already.”

You shove him gently, but enough to make him laugh, enough to make your heart stumble over itself. The fear from before feels a little further away. He’s here. He’s okay, and you aren’t leaving his side.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

The hospital room is too quiet. Too white, too sterile, too suffocating with the smell of antiseptic and latex gloves. It should be calming. It’s not.

Jungkook is laid up in a hospital bed, his racing suit unzipped down to his waist, revealing the bandages wrapped around his torso. His head is tilted slightly back against the pillows, eyes closed, looking far too relaxed for someone who just crashed a car going nearly 200 miles per hour.

You, however, are pacing. Restless, jittery, hands shaking at your sides, heart still lodged somewhere in your throat.

The beeping of the monitors grates against your ears, the fluorescent lighting buzzing faintly overhead, and the room feels smaller and smaller the longer you stand in it.

Jungkook watches you, lazy and amused, arms resting behind his head as if he’s just lounging in his house.

"[Y/N]," he drawls while a nurse takes his blood pressure, voice a little hoarse but annoyingly soft, "you’re making me dizzy."

You stop. Turn. Glare.

How is he acting like this is nothing?

The moment the doctors had cleared him—minor bruising, nothing serious, no concussion—he had just shrugged, completely unaffected.

Meanwhile, you are still reeling. Still wearing his racing jacket, oversized on your frame, still breathing too fast, still feeling the phantom terror of watching his car spin out.

When the doctors finally leave, when it’s just the two of you alone in this cold, clinical room, everything boils over.

"You scared the hell out of me, Jungkook."

The words fly out of you before you can stop them, sharp and unsteady, laced with too much emotion, too much panic that you can’t shove down anymore.

Jungkook’s head tilts slightly. He grins, cocky, infuriating, like he’s enjoying this way too much.

"What," he muses, "worried about me?"

Your hands curl into fists. He’s playing with you, still joking, still smirking, still being so goddamn Jungkook while you almost lost him today.

Your breath shudders, uneven and shaky, and the fight drains from your body before you can even respond.

He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t see what this did to you. Soon enough, his grin fades. Because he does see it now. The way your voice had wobbled. The way your hands are still shaking at your sides. The way you are still trying to breathe through the terror of watching him crash, of watching him not move for those excruciating seconds that felt like eternity.

Something in his expression shifts. Something softer. More serious. More real. He doesn’t tease you this time. He just watches you, quiet now, unreadable.

And the tension lingers—thick, heavy, crackling in the space between you, filling the silence. Because this is not just friendship anymore, and it hasn’t been for a long time.

“Of course, I was worried about you!" The words burst out of you before you can stop them, voice sharp, breaking, raw.

Jungkook’s brows lift slightly, taken aback.

"Do you think this is funny?" Your voice is rising now, fingers digging into your own arms, nails biting into skin just to ground yourself. "Do you think it’s normal for people to watch their friends crash into a wall and just be fine?"

Jungkook tilts his head, gaze unreadable. "Friends?"

Your stomach twists.

You freeze, realizing what you said. Jungkook doesn’t let you run from it. Instead, he shifts forward, leaning slightly.

"You tell me," he murmurs. "Is that all we are?"

And damn him, because he’s still doing this.

Still making you feel every little thing you don’t want to name. Still looking at you like he already knows the answer.

You can’t do this right now.

You shake your head, refusing to take the bait, refusing to engage, but your voice wavers when you speak again. “Do you have any idea what I would’ve done if something happened to you?"

Jungkook pauses.

"No." A beat. A step closer. "Why don’t you tell me?"

"God, Jungkook!" You explode, voice high, breathless, filled with frustration and something dangerously close to grief. "You scared the shit out of me!"

"You could have died!" you continue, voice rising, cracking, hands trembling at your sides. "Do you understand that?! Do you understand what it felt like watching that happen?!"

His lips part slightly, but no words come out.

"You think I’d just be fine?" you push, voice shaking, unsteady, unraveling completely. "You think I’d just—just move on and go back to my life like you weren’t—like you didn’t—"

You stop. Swallow. Your throat burns.

"You think I wouldn’t care?"

Jungkook is staring at you now, jaw tight, hands curled into fists against the hospital sheets. His Adam’s apple bobs, throat working as he swallows hard.

You can’t tell if it’s because he doesn’t believe you, or because he does. That is the part that terrifies you the most.

He just stares at you, his lips parted slightly, his breath slow, controlled, like he’s afraid to move too fast, trying to understand what’s happening. This is not the version of you he’s used to. You, with your hands trembling at your sides. You, with your voice breaking in ways that make his chest ache. You, standing in front of him in his jacket, looking like you’re on the verge of completely shattering.

Your voice is a whisper. Small. Unsteady. he hates it. He finally gets it now. It’s not just about the crash, the fear, the hospital, the bruises on his skin. It’s about him and you and everything that’s been building between you for far too long.

Jungkook exhales, chest rising and falling, his hands gripping the sheets beside him, and for a moment—a brief, fleeting moment—he looks like he wants to say something.

You don’t give him the chance. You move first. Before you can stop yourself, before you can think, you step forward and collapse into his arms.

His body tenses in surprise, but only for a second. His arms wrap around you, pulling you in, holding you tight. Your face presses into his shoulder, your fingers clutch at the fabric of his driver suit, and you break completely.

You sob and shake, and Jungkook just holds you through it.

"Hey," he murmurs, voice softer than you’ve ever heard it, his hands moving slowly, soothingly, one pressed against the small of your back, the other cradling the back of your head. "I’m right here."

You shake your head against him, your grip tightening, words muffled against his shoulder. "You can’t just say it like that, like it wasn’t—like you didn’t—"

Jungkook exhales, understanding without needing you to finish.

"I know," he says quietly. "I know, baby."

You just breathe him in. The warmth of him. The feeling of his heartbeat under your fingertips. The knowledge that he’s here, alive, safe.

"I don’t—" You sniffle, voice unsteady, body still trembling against his. "I don’t know how you do this. How do you just walk away from something like that?"

Jungkook chuckles softly, but there’s no teasing in it this time.

"It’s part of the sport," he murmurs, his fingers lightly tracing circles on your back. "Crashes happen. Risks happen. But I swear I’ll do my best to make sure it never happens again."

And when you finally pull back, just enough to look at him, his hands still rest on your waist, warm and steady.

His eyes flicker over your face, gentle and searching, and when he lifts a hand, fingers brushing away the stray tears from your cheek, you don’t stop him. You just let him touch you. Let yourself feel all of it. You blink, caught off guard, before his next words completely ruin you.

"You know," he muses, eyes twinkling, "you were kinda terrifying back there with those paramedics."

Your jaw drops.

Jungkook laughs, fully and unapologetically, his fingers still on your waist, his body still warm against yours, his presence still grounding you even as he makes fun of you.

"Shut up," you mumble, wiping at your face, still sniffling, still recovering from all of this. “I swear they weren’t even trying to do their job right.”

Jungkook just smirks.

"I like the idea of you as a crazy girlfriend."

The worst part? You do too.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Ever since the hospital, things have been different. Not drastically. Not in a way that anyone else would notice.

But it’s all that makes a home in your brain now.

Jungkook has always been in your life in ways you never expected, but now, it feels permanent, like the space he takes up in your world is so much bigger than before.

You don’t even question why you’re here, in his house, day after day, fussing over him like it’s second nature.

He absolutely lets you. Despite his half-hearted protests, or his feeble attempts to act like he’s fine, he lets you take care of him.

More accurately, he loves every second of it.

“[Y/N], sweetheart,” Jungkook groans from the couch, throwing his head back dramatically as you set a glass of water and his next round of painkillers on the coffee table. “You’re smothering me.”

You ignore him, plopping down on the other end of the couch as you pull your legs up, phone in hand. “You need to stay on schedule with your meds.”

“I barely feel anything anymore.”

You glance at him, unimpressed. “That’s because of the meds.”

Jungkook grins, shifting slightly so he’s facing you more, his arm draping lazily over the back of the couch, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“You know,” he drawls, “I think you just like having an excuse to take care of me.”

You roll your eyes, fighting the warmth creeping up your neck. “I’m just being a decent human being.”

“Oh, come on. Admit it.” He smirks, tilting his head. “You’re enjoying this a little too much.”

You scoff, shaking your head, but your next words betray you: “You’re so annoying.”

Jungkook’s grin widens.

You don’t even see it coming.

His leg suddenly stretches out, toes nudging against your thigh, pushing you just enough to make you wobble slightly on the couch.

You yelp, slapping his knee. “Stop! You’re injured!”

He laughs, full and completely unbothered, before leaning back against the cushions.

“See?” he muses, eyes closing. “My personal nurse. Fussing over me every second of the day.”

You huff, crossing your arms. “I could just leave, you know.”

Jungkook peeks one eye open, eyebrow arching.

“Oh?” he challenges, voice too smug for his own good. “Go on, then.”

You hesitate.

Just for a second.

And that’s all the confirmation he needs.

Because his grin turns downright devilish as he leans his head back again, completely at ease.

“That’s what I thought.”

You despise him. You really do. Except you don’t, not even the tiniest bit.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

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