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honeyhotteoks · 1 year ago

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always only you (c.sc)

summary: the date was terrible, awful even, but you just can't call your brother to pick you up. you have to call his best friend instead.

note: hi um....... i'm back and a seventeen stan now????? don't worry, i'm still working on ateez fic, but s.coups has taken hold of my brain and i needed to get this one out there so..... pls enjoy

warnings: non idol!seungcheol, fem!reader, older brother mingyu, seungcheol is mingyus bff, reader is called a sl*t in a mean way by her shitty date, v protective cheol, reckless driving, unprotected sex (wrap it up dont be like them), reader is curvy and descriptors like full, thick, etc. are used throughout, makeouts, grinding, cheol is obsessed with pussy, i mean fr he's a bonafide wap enjoyer, an oral aficionado of the wettest kind, anyways there's oral sex f receiving, hand stuff, rough fingering, rough but passionate sex, use of baby and princess, creampies b/c lbr he's gotta, anyways they're obsessed with each other

pairings: s.coups x reader

genre: smut and more smut, childhood friends to lovers

word count: 14.2K

It was a bad date.

Not the worst date you’ve ever had, granted, but still pretty up there in terms of terrible. He left an hour ago, the minute you interrupted his monologue to tell him that you were pretty sure things weren’t going to work out. You’ve never had someone leave in the middle of a date before, but then again, you’ve never actually told someone the date was bad in the middle either.

Not being able to find the right guy is starting to feel embarrassing. It’s been years since your last relationship and months since you even had a second date. Naively, you had had such a good feeling about tonight and having to be proven wrong at breakneck speed before you even got your entrees feels like some kind of poetic karma for something you must have done. You just wish for once you had kept your mouth shut, but your good feeling had been infectious and your excitement about the date bubbled up out of you to your friends and your coworkers.

You just wish you never told Mingyu.

I have a really good feeling about him. That’s what you told your brother on the phone a few hours ago. We’ve been talking for a few weeks, I think you’ll really like him.

Stupid.

You should have known he was on the rebound from the suspiciously large gap in photos on his Instagram. You should have known he was just trying to sleep with you from the minute he commented on your dress, from the way he touched your shoulder for too long for the first hug. You should have known on top of all of that that he would be boring from his joking non-answer when you asked about his most recent read. Sometimes it takes all of those things wrapped up tightly together and shoved directly in your face from across a dining room table to know for sure.

You just wish you never said a word to Mingyu. You don’t want to see that look in his eyes when you tell him he wasn’t the right guy. His eyes always go soft, mouth downturned, and it kills you every time because he means it when he says - You’ll find the right guy soon, anyone would be crazy to not love you.

Tonight you really don’t want pity, you don’t think you can handle it.

“Are you ready for the check?” The server’s voice snaps you right out of your thoughts and you look up at his sympathetic smile.

“Sorry,” You manage, “yes,”

“No rush,” He lies, immediately producing the leather billfold and sliding it across the tablecloth.

The floor doesn’t start to drop out from beneath you until you open it, despite having to sit here and eat your pasta alone. This place is expensive, more expensive than you thought.

Your eyes run through the bill. Four cocktails, two appetizers, two entrees, one slice of cherry cheesecake. The bills your date left on the table just barely covers three cocktails. You can’t afford this. The prices here were probably nothing for your date given how much he talked about his extremely smart investing strategies, but not for you.

You do fast math, panic math.

After paying the bill you’ll have 9,600 won in your debit account. You get paid tomorrow so it’s not the scariest number you’ve ever seen in your account, but it’s definitely not enough for a taxi home.

Your stomach churns.

You pay the bill quickly, quietly, the server’s hovering presence by your shoulder enough to tell you there is in fact a considerable rush. Your card is returned to you in moments, and he places a brown paper bag in front of you, “There’s an extra slice of cheesecake in there for you,” he says, “I’m sorry about your date.”

He’s gone before you can say thank you.

You suppose you can’t really sit inside anymore if you’ve paid the bill and you’re holding a to-go bag, so you step out into the chilly night air. It’s been raining lately, but barely. It’s been cloudy more than anything, and yet here you are walking outside into the cold night air and a late autumn storm of icy rain.

Your date was a special kind of bastard for leaving you stranded a half hour from your apartment in a storm like this.

The comments he made about you, about your dress and the way it fits flick through your mind and your jaw draws tightly shut. If you had had the wherewithal in that moment to slap him or toss a glass of water in his face you would have, but instead you sat frozen with your stomach in knots.

It takes you one flash of rage to scroll through your phone and delete the three dating apps installed, and then you open up your contacts and scroll for your brother’s name. He doesn’t live too far from here, and you know he’s probably out with some of his friends, but if you’re lucky maybe he’s close by. Your finger hovers over Mingyu’s contact, but you can't quite make the call.

You’re twenty-six, you should be grown up enough to get home by yourself after a bad date and not have to call him to rescue you. Embarrassment floods you, the idea of admitting you can’t afford the taxi tonight just sinks into your bones. You love your brother so much, but the idea of seeing him look at you the way he sometimes does and then slip money into your purse for you to find at home makes you want to cry. You’d call him and you’d tell him you’re returning it and he’d play dumb - What money, y/n? I didn’t put that there, maybe it’s like when you find 50,000 won in your old jeans?

No, you can’t call him. You can’t go over to his lovely little apartment with his absolutely lovely fiance and cry about the sorry state of your romantic life. Nothing about that will make you feel better in this moment, absolutely nothing.

You scroll away from his contact and you think about anyone else you could call, but there’s only one person who keeps coming to mind. There’s no way he’ll pick up, not when he sees your number on his phone, not after the way you’ve treated him for the past year, but his apartment really isn’t that far from here and if he doesn’t hate your guts you know he’ll at least give you a ride.

The rain picks up, pelting you hard enough that you have to duck back under the measly lip of the restaurants roof for what cover it provides, and you don’t realize you’re well and truly crying until your cheeks feel warm and wet and you can’t get a full breath, but here you are. Stranded alone, broke, and loveless in an apparently ill fitting dress, and there’s only one person’s voice you want to hear even if it’s just his stupid voicemail box.

Tears hiccup out of you as you dial, cold fingers shaking as you try to press the numbers you’ve had memorized by heart since you were thirteen and got your first cell phone.

The phone rings twice before he answers, “Hey, you,”

The easy sound of his voice makes your tears come faster. Your breath hitches in your chest, “Cheol?”

“y/n?” His voice shifts, “Are you crying?”

“I’m,” You hiccup again, “I’m sorry,”

“Hey,” He tries again, “y/n, is that you?”

“I messed up,” Your head is starting to throb and you press your eyes closed, leaning back against the cold wall of the restaurant and hiding as much of your body under the overhang of the roof as possible, “I’m sorry to call,”

“That’s okay,” Seungcheol says, his voice sounding strained, “what happened, princess?”

He hasn’t called you that in years, not since you were fifteen and carrying a torch for him. Not since you made Mingyu tell him to stop.

“C-can you come get me?” You wish you could just stop crying.

“Tell me where you are,” He answers immediately, and despite the rain you hear the sound of his car keys.

You give him the name of the restaurant, the closest cross streets, all blubbered out between fat tears and rain drops.

“That’s…” He sounds distant suddenly and then his voice reconnects, “twenty minutes, okay? I’ll be there in twenty minutes, princess, just take a deep breath,”

You drag in a shaky breath, “Cheol,” you scrub the tears from under your eyes, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know who else to call,”

“Me,” He says, his car starting up in the background, “you always call me if you need me,”

You haven’t seen him in almost a year, barely talked to him outside of sending reactions to each other's Instagram stories, but he’s coming.

The way you fell away from him was gradual at first, and then an intentional self preservationist wall. Mingyu had introduced his best friend to a girl, and despite your high school crush being supposedly dead and buried, you weren’t prepared for what Choi Seungcheol in love would look like. You started being busier and busier until his calls went unanswered and then eventually his calls just stopped altogether. Mingyu told you later that the relationship didn’t last, but the damage was done and in the end it was just easier not to reach out first.

You can’t believe he picked up the phone and you can’t believe the first thing he heard from you in a year was hysterical crying. Taking a set of deep, steadying breaths you wipe away the wetness from your cheeks. Your date had hurt your feelings, but you only let it last for a minute. You wouldn’t let a man with such a fragile ego get into your head, and besides, you’ve always liked this dress.

Seungcheol makes it to you in fifteen minutes flat. He’s broken at least six traffic laws to get to you, including running a solidly red, redlight, but he really doesn’t care.

He’s seen you cry before, plenty of times. When you skinned your knee at seven or that time he and Mingyu played a prank when you were eleven, tricking you into thinking you were home alone on Halloween night. He’s seen you cry at movies and at videos of puppies and the sound of moving music, and he remembers your eyes full of glassy tears watching Mingyu graduate college. He remembers the sound of it when your grandmother died when you were nineteen, the way your shoulders shook and your breath wheezed as you hid your face tightly in your brother's chest while he looked on feeling so, so helpless.

Seungcheol remembers all of it, but he’s never heard you sound like you did tonight.

Mingyu had said you had a date. Earlier in Seungcheol’s night at a bar not far from his apartment, his best friend mentioned it off hand. Mingyu said it like an afterthought as he answered one of your texts. Seungcheol tried not to notice the way his hand tightened on his beer can, enough to make the aluminum crack inwards on itself where his thumb dug into the cool metal. He tried not to think too much about what that meant, just like he’s been trying not to think too much about you at all lately.

Now his mind is racing, threading the pieces together as the wet road whips by. The threadiness of your voice turns synonymous with panic in his mind and now all he can think about is how he’ll find you when he gets there. He goes over the facts he knows while he stops behind a small block of traffic, his knuckles white as he grips the wheel.

A date, a bad date, a date you needed a ride away from. The kind of date you couldn’t tell your brother about, when he knows that Mingyu is always your first call. As the traffic disperses he presses the gas pedal and weaves around the slower cars, images flickering in his mind’s eye. A faceless man looking at you, making you uncomfortable, pressing into your space. His mind loops on the image of an unwanted kiss, of pushy hands finding their way under your blouse.

By the time he’s skidding into the parking lot of the restaurant his hands are shaking and he’s ready to kill.

When he sees you, wet and shivering on the sidewalk, he nearly falls out of the car trying to get to you. He leaves the key in the ignition, the door flung wide open with warmth pouring out into the chilly night air.

He looks flustered, rumpled like he was having a quiet night in. Heavy gray sweatpants that hang just right on his hips and an oversized white shirt. He’s wearing socks and slides and the second you see him it dawns on you that when you called him you must have sounded hysterical because he didn’t even try to dress for the icy weather.

“You look terrible,” You clap a hand over your lips to stop yourself from laughing, and you can’t believe that’s the first thing you manage to say to him after a year. You hate yourself for having no filter, no off switch, no ability to just be normal and say thank you for coming all this way.

His expression runs from panic to confusion in a split second, “What?”

“Fuck,” You laugh, shaking your head, “no, sorry, you look good, but it’s raining like hell, get in the car,”

He blinks, “y/n,”

“Come on,” You duck out from beneath the measly roof overhang and dart towards the passenger side door, “it’s freezing, I’ll explain in the car,”

Your dress is wet, but not soaked through, so you hope you won’t do any damage to his seats as you slide into the warmth of his car and shut the door. It takes him at least thirty seconds to follow you, but through his confusion at your reaction you bet he finally registers the cold wetness of his socks and it snaps him back to reality.

He leaves the car in park and turns his body to you.

You owe him an explanation, especially given the way you cried on the phone to him twenty minutes ago, but all you can think right now is that it’s really, really nice to see his face again. His hair has gotten longer, shaggier and curled a little at the neck and it might just be the fit of his shirt, but he looks broader. It’s only been a year, but he looks so much more like a man now. All you can manage is, “Hey, Cheol,”

“Hey,” He answers, shifting himself further in the seat so that he’s almost twisted up sideways, one leg tucked up to accommodate the position.

The front of his shirt is damp with rain and clinging a bit to his chest and you look down. You really do not need to be having these kinds of thoughts about him again, it’s only been a minute, ninety seconds at the most.

“y/n,” He says, his voice slow and soft, “what happened?”

Shame floods you, heating your cheeks red.

He stretches a hand across the center console, but he stops halfway, his fingers closing into a loose fist, “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“I know,”

“I won’t tell Gyu,” He offers quietly, “just tell me what happened, and I promise, I’ll take care of it.”

Oh.

Your head snaps up at his serious tone, “Nothing happened, I’m fine,”

He looks more confused than before if that’s even possible, and you can practically see him working out his next words.

“Cheol,” You shake your head, “I’m serious, I’m completely fine, I just needed a ride,”

“You were crying,” He says, not a question but a fact.

“I know,” You sigh.

“You were crying like something happened,” He draws his arm back and runs a hand through his damp hair, “and you called me?”

“I know,” You repeat, “it was a bad date, but that’s all it was. He ditched me without a ride though and I just,”

Seungcheol’s lips close at your words as he waits for you to finish.

“The thought of calling Mingyu and telling him about this just,” You clear your throat to push back a little bubble of emotion, “yeah, I couldn’t do that,”

“Oh,” His voice drops, and Seungcheol shifts in his seat, throwing the car into drive, “got it.”

“No, Cheol,” You shake your head, “that’s not what I meant,”

“It’s fine,” He peels out of the parking lot, “I’ll drive you home.”

He’s angry, pissed at you in that way he gets pissed. Tightened jaw, heavy sighs, his knee bouncing in irritation. If you give it five minutes he’ll tell you what’s bothering him, he’ll say it in a fast rush like he’s more disappointed than mad. You have to let him come to you when he’s like this, no amount of trying to explain will fix it, so you wait.

The drive is silent, and you fight the urge to jump in with directions when he approaches each light and turn. He knows where your apartment is, he helped you move in four years ago when you graduated college. Mingyu and his friends lifting box after box and telling you to just relax and let the professionals handle it. You smile at the memory.

He stays quiet until he turns off the major road and down the side streets that will take you to your apartment, but finally he says, “You can’t just call me like that and expect me to drop everything when you have a bad date,”

“Were you busy?” You didn’t think so judging by the state of his clothes, but it’s not out of the realm of possibility. He could have had friends over, maybe a girl. You wonder idly if he’s seeing someone.

“That’s not the point,” He glances at you, “and you know it.”

“I’m sorry,” You tell him, and you mean it, “I really didn’t know who to call, and I just,”

“What, y/n?” He pushes a little.

“I just don’t want to tell Mingyu about the date,” You confess, “and I didn’t mean to call you and be such a mess, the date really was bad and I was feeling sorry for myself, and I didn’t have enough money to get home,”

“What?” He swivels his head to the side for a moment and then refocuses on the road.

“I would have called a taxi,” You explain, “but my fucking date left and didn’t pay after we ordered all this food and it was more than I was planning for,”

“He didn’t pay?” He sounds disgusted and you smile.

“No,” You tell him, “but in fairness, I did tell him in the middle of the date it wasn’t going to work out,”

He laughs sharply, and you know he’s still irritated but at least he’s listening, “That bad?”

“Yeah,” You sigh, “but it is what it is,”

He glances over to you again, “So he walked out?”

“Basically,” You nod, “he said what he needed to say, dropped twenty-thousand won on the table like that was going to cover anything and walked out. At least now I know he was an asshole, I’m not missing out on anything,”

“What did he say to you?” His voice pops up an octave.

You’d really rather not tell him, you’d be fine burying the comment he made deep down inside never to be unpacked again. You shake your head, “It’s fine,”

“It doesn’t seem fine,” He starts, but you smoothly cut back in.

“I just didn’t want Gyu to feel bad for me I guess, he knew I was looking forward to the date, and having to call for a ride like this, I don’t know. I was embarrassed,” You explain.

“I still don’t understand why you called me, though,” He admits, and you can still feel the tension in him even though the conversation has been ebbing and flowing, “I’m not your brother.”

Irritation sparks in you at the comment, “I know you’re not,” you turn to him, “but we’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Friends call each other,” He says simply, “don’t they?”

You let his comment sit in the air between you for a moment, and then you sigh, “Yeah, they do. I’m sorry I disappeared on you like that,”

“I tried calling,” He says softly, “but you were always busy,”

“I know,” You breathe.

He drives further, slower now and safer that you’re in the car, and you can see him thinking through your words. Finally he slides his hand across the center console with his palm turned up, offering you his hand, “y/n,” he says, “are you doing okay? With money, I mean, after what you said?”

“I’m good,” You tell him, “it was just shitty timing,”

“If you need anything,” He squeezes your hand as you slide your palm across his, “I’m here, we don’t have to say anything to,”

“I’m okay,” You assure him, “but thank you, seriously,”

He nods, accepting your words, but then he asks something harder, “What did that guy say to you, y/n? I know you, you weren’t crying like that over not being able to get a taxi,”

You sigh, leaning back in the passenger seat, “Can I ask you to let it go?”

“You can ask,” He shrugs, “but so can I.”

You sit quietly, looking at your entwined hands resting on your knee. His thumb strokes over your knuckles slowly.

“Fine,” You murmur, “he said he didn’t want to date me anyways, he just came to sleep with me,”

His hand tightens on yours.

“And if I wasn’t going to fuck him,” You do your best to clean up some of the language he used when he got up from the table, “I shouldn’t have dressed like a slut,”

You leave out the part that really cut deep, the part that made the more form fitting dress you chose go from sexy to something sour.

“Give me this asshole’s name,” Seungcheol skids to a stop a little too harshly at the next traffic light and turns to you.

“No,” You shake your head, “I’m fine now, it just stung,”

His lips close in a tight line and then he sighs, “I’m so sorry someone said that to you,”

“Don’t apologize, Cheol,” You squeeze his hand, “you didn’t say it.”

“I know, but still,” He holds your gaze, “it was mean, and you deserve much better from a guy you’re seeing, and you don’t look like, or I mean, you aren’t a,”

You smile as he stumbles over his words and someone behind him gently honks the horn enough to let him know the light has gone green.

He jolts and refocuses on the road, clearing his throat, “What I’m trying to say is that you look nice, pretty. The dress is good, and you, um, you don’t look,”

“Thank you,” You cut him off, trying to save him from swallowing his own tongue out of embarrassment, and you ignore the way your stomach flipped over on itself hearing Seungcheol call you pretty.

“Yeah,” He swallows, slowing down to make the final turn onto your little block, “you know what I mean,”

“Mhm,” You laugh, breaking down any lingering tension, “Cheol, are you a little disappointed you didn’t get to punch my date? Is that it?”

“Shut up,” He sighs.

“Aw,” You smile as he pulls into a space by your apartment, “You were worried about me?”

He rolls his eyes as he kills the ignition, “You were hysterical,” he says, “what was I supposed to think?”

“Don’t worry,” You smile as he throws open the driver’s side door, “I think it’s kind of sweet that you went all knight and shining armor on me,”

His lip twitches, “Don’t make fun,” he says, “I thought something bad happened to you,”

“Nothing bad happened to me,” You find yourself assuring him again even though he already knows this, and you twist the moment back to a joke as quickly as you can, “unless you count listening to a guy talk about his ex for twenty minutes,”

He grimaces, “Ugh,”

“Exactly,”

“Actually, you know what,” He grins, “you’re right, that is a terrible date and you were right to call me,”

He’s out of the car and crossing to your door and relief floods your chest. Just like that, you’re back to normal.

Seungcheol pulls open your door to let you out and says, “Do you have a towel or something?”

“You want to come up?”

“If you don’t mind,”

“You just swooped in and saved my night, Coups, of course I don’t mind.” He smiles at the nickname, the one mostly used by his friend group and coined by Seungcheol himself during their short lived Soundcloud music career freshman year of college. The nickname stuck, but you and Mingyu knew him before and you’ve both always, always called him Seungcheol.

He ducks his head, smiles, and follows you up the stairs and into your apartment just like old times.

It’s a little strange seeing him like this after so much time has passed, but no matter what has happened in your life, even when your childhood little crush on him was making your nights sleepless, he’s always been there. He’s been a constant in your life since you could form memories, and when you really think about it, you’ve never not known Seungcheol. Suddenly seeing him in your living room feels right, and it makes you wonder why you couldn’t pick up the phone and say something real to him this past year.

“It looks good in here,” He offers, toeing off his slides in the entryway and stepping into your little living room, “it looks like you,”

“Thanks,” You’re pretty sure the floor of your bedroom is still covered in clothes from earlier, but he’s not going to see that and you’re just glad you didn’t let that chaos spillover out here.

“So,” He clears his throat lightly.

“Towel,” You jump, “right, hold on,”

You disappear down the hall and Seungcheol’s chest goes fluttering fast. He doesn’t need a towel, he doesn’t need anything except a pair of dry socks and his own bed, and he can’t figure out for the life of him why he gave into the little voice that told him to come upstairs. You’ve made it pretty clear over the past year or so that you’ve grown up, you’ve made your own group of friends outside of him and your brother and the guys. He doesn’t need to be here, you don’t need him anymore, you just needed a ride.

But he’s missed you a little. A lot if he’s being honest with himself. Sometimes he finds himself asking Mingyu about you, hoping you might drop by while he’s at his best friend’s place. Your name on his phone screen earlier in the night had stopped his heart cold. He couldn’t imagine why you were calling and not just texting, and he picked up the phone so fast he thought he might have fucked it up and accidentally pressed end. He tried to sound casual, normal, but his heart was pounding.

Standing in your living room he feels out of place, like a forgotten childhood relic unboxed in the middle of a new home. He doesn’t know which seat to sit in, he doesn’t have his spot on your couch here like he did at your old place. He doesn’t know where you keep your glasses or which remote would switch on the television. He doesn’t know which book you’ve been reading from the little stack on the table or the name of the place you’ve been working, and there’s a man’s jacket hanging on the wall in the hallway that he doesn’t recognize. He hopes it’s Mingyu’s.

He doesn’t know why he’s here. He should leave. He should go.

“Okay,” Your voice comes back, and he tears his eyes away from the little details of your life he doesn’t recognize to look back at you, “I’ve got a towel, socks, and I bet I have a sweatshirt of Gyu’s around here if you’re cold,”

“I’m good,” He recovers, taking the dry items from your hands.

Your fingers brush along his as you pass everything off and your stomach jumps.

“Come in,” You wave him in, “I’ll make some coffee or something and then I need to change,”

“You should get a warm shower,” He says abruptly, “you’ll catch a cold,”

“I’m fine,” You shake your head, “I wasn’t out there for too long,”

“I’ll make the coffee then, you need to get out of that wet dress,” He shoos you away and points to your kitchen, “I assume you have a normal coffee machine and not some fancy Italian thing?”

“I think you’ll be fine,” You smile, “I’ll just be a second,”

He nods, and you dart back down the hallway to your bedroom.

It takes you three minutes to change into something comfortable and clean and then kick all of your scattered clothes into the closet and shut the door. You run a brush through your tangled hair from the rain, and you almost forget that your childhood crush is walking freely around your apartment, but then you hear his laugh and you melt into the wall behind you. You missed the sound of it so much, and if you don’t get a handle on this right now you’re going to go out there and make a fool of yourself.

But then he laughs again.

You smile as you come back out into the living room, leaving your good sense behind in the bathroom, “What’s so funny?”

“I haven’t seen these in years,” He grins, and as you come around the corner you realize he’s looking at the photos you have framed and sitting in various spots on your bookshelf.

“Oh,” You smile, seeing the one he’s holding and studying, “yeah,”

“This one,” He tips the frame so you can see the picture, but you already know which one, Mingyu and Seungcheol in their first year of college stand in the center of the frame, Wonwoo, Jeonghan, Dokyeom, and Hoshi with their arms thrown around each other on either side. You are crouching in the center with Jeonghan’s little sister, both of you holding out a peace sign.

“Isn’t this the night we went to that haunted theme park?” Seungcheol asks with a smile.

“Yeah,” You take the photo back from him and look it over for a moment, “in Daegu,”

He nods, “I remember,”

“Yeah,” You place the photo back in it’s assigned spot and turn towards the kitchen, “I just remember you and DK scaring the living shit out of me,”

“God,” He runs a hand through his hair, “we did, I felt so bad about that after,”

“Mm,” You laugh.

“Gyu reamed us out for it later,” He follows you into the kitchen and watches as you pour two cups of freshly brewed coffee.

“He never told me that,” Your eyes perk up in surprise.

“He said,” Seungcheol straightens himself up to his full height and lets his face go passive for his impression, “‘If you ever make my sister cry like that again, you’ll be sorry,’”

“Sorry?” You laugh, “Mingyu wouldn’t know how to make someone sorry if his life depended on it,”

“I don’t know,” He shrugs, relaxing his shoulders and reaching for his cup, “it seemed pretty clear he wasn’t fucking around, we took him seriously,”

“Wow,” You lean against the counter, “that’s actually kind of sweet,”

“He’s always been protective of you,” Seungcheol points out, “even now, he’ll talk about you and I can see it,”

“I’m not a kid anymore, though,” You bristle a little.

“He knows that,” Seungcheol shakes his head, “he just worries, you know, it’s his nature,”

“Yeah,” You nod, taking a long sip of your coffee, “I know,”

Seungcheol hovers, not finding a place to lean or to sit in the unfamiliar place, and finally he just asks the question that’s been on his mind for the past twenty minutes, “Is that why you didn’t call him? He worries too much?”

“I guess a little,” You move past him and back into the living room, “come sit down, you’re making me nervous,”

He blushes and every little emotion you’ve ever had for him comes thundering back in your chest. There are at least three places for him to sit that aren’t directly next to you on the couch, but he ignores every one of them and sits next to you, barely a foot away, and turns towards you so he can put all his focus on you.

“So,” He prompts you, “come on, it’s just me,”

Talking to him was always easy, always. Even in the throes of your infatuation you were able to hold a conversation with him, sometimes a long one out on the balcony of your parent’s house. It’s almost irritating how quickly that familiarity and comfort comes back.

“I just feel like I’ve been really fucking this whole dating thing up,” You confess, “and Mingyu’s been… well you know him, he’s like the number one hype man for me making all my dreams come true, and being ten out of ten happy,”

“Yeah,” He nods, but lets you continue.

“But I just haven’t been able to make it work with anyone in a while,” You bite down the reason why in the back of your brain, “and every time I tell him about a bad date he just looks sadder and sadder for me,”

“Mm,” He nods, sympathetic, “I know exactly what you mean.”

“I’m so glad you picked up, honestly,” You glance down at the edge of your cup, “you’ve never treated me like that, and I just… I guess I needed a friend and not my brother tonight,”

He hesitates, but then his hand comes to rest on your knee and he gives you a squeeze, “I get it,” he says, “but, honestly it seems like you’re putting a lot of pressure on yourself,”

“I know, but,” You sigh, your words dying out as you focus on his lingering hand on your knee.

“What’s so important about getting a guy right now?” He asks, and you almost laugh at the absurdity of this man asking you that question.

“Cheol,” You shift on the couch to reposition, pulling back your knee from his touch so you can face him and admit this without being dizzier than you are about his presence, “I don’t know, exactly, but… don’t you feel like living alone is kind of fucking lonely sometimes?”

His eyes flick over you and then he nods.

The words keep coming as much as you don’t want them to now that you’ve started telling someone, telling him the truth of it and you grimace as you admit it, “The sick part is that I think it’s me. Tonight was the exception, he was a dick, but most of these guys are nice. They’re nice, they’re respectful, they seem to be interested in me, but none of them are what I want, none of them are,”

You have to stop. You have to get off this topic and off this train before you say something really and truly stupid and burn this newly restored friendship down to ash.

“Having high standards isn’t a bad thing,” He offers, “and Gyu sets the bar high for how you should treat a woman, I mean,”

“You think I’m talking about Mingyu?” You laugh sharply.

“He’s the best guy I know,” He starts to say and then the wheels start turning.

It happens fast, your absolute lightning quick strike to the match, but your poor decision making usually goes something like this. It makes you mad at first, his constant reference to your perfect brother, but then it all makes sense. Seungcheol really has no idea how you feel about him, as a person or otherwise. It doesn’t enter his brain that the guy who set your standards for men so high might be him, even after he drove illegally fast on wet roads just to come get you because he heard you cry. Up until the last year of your life where you tried to install some distance, he was always there. He was always your first call, always your last call too, and you could never really see anyone else while he was towering right in front of you. He’s never let you down and he doesn’t even know it.

“I can’t believe you,” The words slip out, and then you’re kissing him.

He takes a sharp inhale of breath at the way you collapse onto him, holding yourself up with one hand on his chest and the other on his neck, and his mouth is so warm. You press the first kiss tentatively, and then the second a little more insistently, and then you realize he hasn’t moved an inch and isn’t kissing you back in the least.

You fly backwards, your hand over your mouth, “Oh, god, I’m so sorry,”

He clears his throat and shifts, shaking his head, “It’s fine, don’t worry about it,”

“I can’t believe I just did that,” You blush scarlet, “I’m a mess, I’m so, so sorry, Cheol,”

“Really,” He avoids your eyes, “it’s fine, it was an emotional night, and you just said it yourself, living alone is lonely. We’re good,”

“I didn’t kiss you because I was sad,” You run a hand through your hair and slump back on the couch, “I kissed you because you were being a dumb ass,”

“I feel like you’re insulting me a lot tonight considering I just drove across town for you,” He’s not angry, not really, but he doesn’t let you off so easily, he never has.

“I kissed you because you’re the best guy I know,” You counter his words back, “and I’m sick of you always putting yourself down when-”

He yanks you forwards by your wrist, and this kiss is what you’ll count forever as the first one. He drags your body forwards as he leans back against the couch and kisses you hard, his tongue dipping past your lips this time, his breath mingling with yours.

You shift for better purchase, your chest and his flush together, and you moan softly against his lips when his hand slips lower on your waist.

He breaks the kiss, his forehead leaning against yours, “What the fuck are we doing?”

“I think they call it making out,” You manage, your heart beating fast like a bird.

“Jesus,” He shakes his head, “what are we doing?”

“Cheol,” You start, but he kisses you again, hungrier and hotter as he pulls you in.

You pant against his mouth, your brain exploding into little fireworks as his hands start to wander, and then he groans, “You feel so good,”

This is going somewhere fast, and with your hands twisted in the fabric of his t-shirt you swing your leg over his hips and let him wrap his arms around you.

“We should slow down,” You find yourself mumbling against his mouth, “but I don’t want to, I want you,”

He nods against you, his hands squeezing your thighs where they rest on either side of him, “I want you too,”

“We should talk more,” You manage as his kisses travel over your jaw.

“Later?” He asks, his hands dragging you closer, “God, that dress,”

“Yeah?” You’re breathless already.

“If I knew you were going to kiss me I would have peeled it off you,” He pants.

A moan gets caught in your throat, your hips jerking, nipples hardening against his chest as you throw yourself into another kiss.

“God,” He shivers.

“Cheol stay,” You can talk later, he’s absolutely right, and you beg him not to go between kisses, “please stay,”

Logic starts to pump through him at the implications of that, so much more than kissing comes with staying for the night and he starts to shake his head, but at the way you’re touching him he can’t quite tear his hands away.

“I should go home,” He murmurs against your mouth, fingers slipping underneath the hem of your t-shirt, “you’ve been drinking,”

“I had two drinks,” You connect your lips with his again, tongue dipping into his mouth, “like three hours ago,”

“Still,” He kisses you again despite his words, his hand now flat against the small of your back.

“I’m not drunk,” You pull yourself closer using his shoulders, “if you don’t want to kiss me, don’t kiss me, but don’t use that as an excuse,”

“I should go home,” He repeats, like saying it out loud might make his body follow his brain, but it doesn’t. All he does is tug you closer, your legs now fully splayed around his hips as he leans back against the couch and groans against your mouth.

“I should,” He starts again, whispered thoughts against your lips, but you push back from his chest and break your mouths apart.

“If you want to go so bad, go,” You pull your arms away from him, crossing them under your chest to hold yourself steady. Your nails press pinpricks into your palms.

“This isn’t about what I want,” His eyes soften in that tender way you love, and his hand cups your waist, thumb brushing a line over the deep curve of your hip.

“Why wouldn’t this be about what you want?” You press him, “Or about what I want?”

“Mingyu is my best friend,” He says, his mouth drawn into a sullen line, “and I never want to do anything that betrays his trust or hurts him in any way,”

“I’m not asking you to,” Your voice is small.

“Just,” He sighs, his head tipping backwards against the cushions and his hands slipping to rest over your thighs, “tell me something, okay? Be honest,”

“Okay,”

“Do you want me because you’re lonely and I’m here,” He asks, his eyes locked to the ceiling, “or do you want me because you want me?”

Your arms fall slack and you open your mouth to respond but he presses forwards.

“Because if this is a one time thing to make us both feel better,” He shakes his head, “I can’t do that, I have to go home.”

“Cheol,” You murmur, but he doesn’t lift his head. You reach for him, brushing a hand along his cheek and drawing his gaze back down from the ceiling to your face, “Seungcheol, look at me,”

“Yeah,” He finally follows your gaze.

“I love my brother, but this isn’t about him,” You tell him clearly, and you watch his lips part so he can cut in but you shake your head, “it isn’t. This is about us, and I’ve had a crush on you since I was fucking thirteen,”

He blinks, a grin breaking across his face, “You have?”

“Yeah,” You shuffle closer on his lap, “why do you think I disappeared? You started dating that girl and I just… it wasn’t my place to say anything, it’s not like you were mine, but,”

He brushes the hair back from your cheek as he nods, “It hurts to see the person you want with someone else,”

“Yeah,”

“And you wanted me?”

You nod, stroking his neck where your hand rests, “I just needed some space after that, I thought I could move on,”

“I know the feeling,” He smiles, his thumb tender against your jaw, “believe me,”

“I do,” You nod, “so believe me when I tell you I’ve wanted you for a long time and I don’t just want the one night,”

He sits frozen, his eyes studying your expression, and then he’s moving. Seungcheol pulls you down to meet his mouth again, hands roughly threading into your hair and gripping your hip as he tugs your bodies flush together. He kisses like you hope he fucks, passionate and a little messy, like his need to be inside you and consumed by you is more important than any vanity.

“God,” He groans against your mouth, “he’s going to kill me,”

“Probably,” You huff a laugh against his lips, rolling your hips forwards to slot your bodies together tightly, and at the feeling of his hardening cock pressed against your sex you can’t help the breathy moan that slips out.

He drops his hands to your hips, coaxing you into rolling them again as he presses upwards and you follow his guidance with ease. He curses softly and you roll your hips again, “Oh, fuck my fucking life,” he groans, kissing his way down your throat, “he’ll kill me, but you’re worth it,”

“I better be,” You tease him, tugging gently on his hair as he licks a stripe along your throat.

“Oh, you are,” He shifts back up to kiss your lips again, his mouth pillowy soft and hot against yours, “and I love Gyu, but,”

“Seungcheol,” You push on his shoulders.

His rarely used full name gets his attention and he leans back just enough to see your face, “What’s wrong?”

“Can you please stop talking about my brother while you’re trying to fuck me?” You can hear the whine in your own voice, “I need you right now, we’ll deal with him later,”

“Sorry, sorry,” He smiles, “of course, come here,”

You melt into him as he gathers you closer, his warm, rough hands finding new expanses of skin to touch and it’s strange but delicious to know that there are still brand new things you can learn about a person even after knowing them all your life. He gets soft beneath you like butter when you touch his ears, audibly groans when you grind against him, and gets breathier every time you kiss his neck. He’s not afraid to make little noises in your ear, to curse when you do something right or softly beg you to do something again.

With his mouth on yours and his hands exploring you, you’re just a shaky wet mess in his arms and he doesn’t even fully realize it yet, still so focused on studying your body with his lips, his tongue.

“Ch-Cheol,” You whine as his teeth nip at your pulsepoint, “baby,”

His hands tighten, sliding to cup your backside through the thin fabric of your lounge pants, “Say that again,”

“Baby?”

He exhales hot air across your neck and chest, “God, I like that,”

“You hate pet names,” You sigh, remembering how his nose always crinkled in an uncomfortable scrunch when he heard people getting too coupley.

“No, I don’t,” His hand slides up, tucks under the waistband of your pants, and slides back down to feel your skin, “I hate cringey shit. You calling me ‘baby’ while you’re grinding on my dick isn’t cringey, it’s fucking hot,”

“Ah,” You tug his hair just a little, rolling your hips again, “yeah? Like this?”

His hips jolt up, pressing his cock against your clothed mound and he groans, “Say it,” he nips at your neck again and then pushes you backwards so that you’re sitting up straddling his lap, “and let me see you,”

For a brief flickering second you feel shy, another stark moment of awareness that the man between your thighs is Mingyu’s best friend, but it flashes away the minute you see his smile. He’s looking up at you like you invented the sun and you think it just might make you dizzy enough to say yes to anything he could ever ask of you.

“God,” His eyes rake over you, “you’re so fucking pretty,”

Blush creeps up your chest, “Yeah, baby?”

He swallows hard, his hands coasting up your arms and his eyes coming to rest on the heavy swell of your chest, “The prettiest.” His fingers tuck underneath the straps of your tank top and your bralette and he glances up to your face, “Can I see?”

“Please,” You whisper.

He moves slowly, peeling down the straps from each of your shoulders first, letting the thin fabric of your tank top droop down your arms until he’s left with just the stretchy elastic of your black bralette. His fingers trace your curves, the pad of his thumb ghosting over one of your hardening nipples until it pushes into a firm peak under the fabric.

“Cheol, please,” If he doesn’t touch you soon you’re going to be a squirming mess.

“Relax,” He toys with the strap, “we’ve got all night,”

You gasp as he dips forwards, peeling the front of your top down entirely until your breasts spill out of the elastic fabric. His lips connect with your skin, tongue exploring intimate parts of you in ways you’ve never experienced quite like this with anyone else.

“These,” He cups your full breasts in his hands, kissing along each swell, “are perfect, princess,”

You shiver at that, whining in his grip as he traces his tongue down and ghosts it close to your nipple, but you smile and manage, “I really took you for an ass man,”

“I’m an everything man where you’re concerned,” He flicks his tongue experimentally across the hardened bud and hums softly when you jolt in his arms, “so excuse me if I have to slow down and show my appreciation,”

This crush is going to kill you, that’s the thought that gets instantly banished from your brain the second Seungcheol wraps his lips around one nipple while his fingers pinch the other, setting a steady pace of sucking and teasing that is sure to leave pleasured little bruises.

“Oh,” You grip his shoulders, “oh, Jesus, Cheol,”

“Feel good, baby?” He switches sides smoothly and sucks again.

A jolt of pleasure rocks from your chest to your untouched clit and you rock down, trying desperately to press your aching center against anything for a little friction.

“Yeah?” He prompts you gently.

“So, so good,” You nod, rolling again, “but I need more, please,”

He nods against your chest, pressing one more kiss to your breastbone before he says, “y/n, I don’t want to move too fast or anything, we’ll do whatever you want, but,”

“But what?” You’re about a second from pushing his hand into your underwear yourself.

“Can I eat you out?”

Your stomach flips, “Oh, fuck yes,”

You’re on your back practically the second you give him permission. He holds you tight to his chest as he pushes himself up off the couch and flips you around, dropping you back onto the cushions and tugging at your clothes. Normally you’d be a little self conscious, especially in the brighter light of your living room and not the dim strategic lightning of your bedroom, but Seungcheol keeps looking at every inch of your body like he’s starving for it, groaning in pleasure at every inch of you that gets revealed, and you’re starting to think he really does like everything about you.

You help push off your pants with shaky hands, but let him loop his thumbs under the thin straps of your underwear and tug those free, a slick wet patch in the middle where you’ve been soaking through the cotton for the past half hour. You help him with your top, until finally you’re completely bare and he’s pushing you to lie back onto the extended length of the chaise while he falls to his knees before you.

“Wow,” He breathes, his hands running along your thighs, “just… wow,”

“Stop,” You can’t stop the blush now, and you fight the urge to reach for a blanket or cross your arms over yourself at his exacting gaze.

“Nope,” He dips his hands to your inner thighs and pushes your legs apart little by little, “I’m going to enjoy every bit of this,”

“Now you’re just trying to embarrass me,” You smile.

His tongue darts out to wet hips lips and he shakes his head, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,”

Your stomach churns, flipping nervously as he looks at you so earnestly.

“I’m serious,” He kisses your knee as he opens one of your legs wider, “I’ve thought about this a thousand times, but you’re so much better than my imagination,”

“Cheol,” You whisper tightly.

“Mm,” He sighs as he tips your hips back, maneuvering your legs wide and open now and shifting your hips to the very edge of the couch so he can tuck smoothly between your open legs, “I wonder if you taste as sweet as I imagined too,”

Your fingers grip down on the cushions, your heart hammering in your chest.

“Look at you,” He sighs pleasantly, his fingers ghosting along the edge of your lower lips, “is all this for me, baby?”

“Uh-huh,” Your breath hitches as his finger just barely touches your seam.

“You got this wet just from grinding on my lap?” He smiles, his teeth catching his thick bottom lip.

“Cheol,” It’s all you can manage, you really didn’t know he was like this.

His eyes soften up though at the sound of his name on your lips, and he kisses your thigh tenderly before looking back up to you, “Doing good? Okay?”

“Mhm,” You’re fine, you are, except you think you might come the second he touches you and you’re a little terrified at just how intense he is from minute one.

“y/n,” He squeezes you a little.

“I’m good,” You breathe, “I promise,”

“Okay,” He kisses your skin again and nods, “just relax, okay?”

“I’m relaxed,” You answer too quickly and one of his eyebrows goes high.

“Mhm,” He eases up on his knees a little to see your face better and smooths his hand from your leg to your hip to your stomach, “what’s going on?”

“This is just a little surreal,” You admit, “isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” He releases your legs and shifts up so he can lean over your body, catching your mouth again in a soft kiss, “it is, but do you trust me?”

“Of course,” You kiss him back.

“Then you should know,” He nuzzles your nose with his, “that all I want to do right now is make you come on my face until you can’t think, and after that if you still want to take this further we can, but baby, I really don’t care what we do tonight. I just want to be with you,”

Your mouth runs dry, and you can feel your core throbbing hard between your legs, your heart fluttering fast.

“So, please, can I make you come?” He smiles, pressing another quick kiss to your lips, “I think you want me to,”

“Yes,” The nervous knots in your stomach release, “please, Coups,”

His nose scrunches as he laughs, kissing his way down your chest, “It’s Coups now?”

“Cheol,” You whine, “you’re stalling,”

“It’s called foreplay,” He licks a firm line between your breasts and moves lower, “have you not been getting fucked right, princess?”

“F-fuck,” Your back arches as his lips travel down over your belly, eyes slipping closed, “Seungcheol,”

He shakes his head, his hair brushing against your skin, “No more baby?” He makes a sulky noise with his tongue against the back of his teeth, “Come on princess, call me baby,”

Your mind is spinning, and you gasp sharply as his fingers finally slide through your wet slit and land at the apex, pressing deliciously down over your throbbing clit, “Ch-Cheol, fuck, oh fuck, baby,”

“There she is,” He groans, and as his fingers fall away and his lips take their place. He licks a deep stripe through your folds and groans, spreading your legs open wide with his hands anchored on the backs of your thighs, “You’re perfect,”

You moan as he sucks the tender bud of your clit into his mouth.

“I’m going to do this everyday,” He pants, licking another stripe, exploring every inch of your cunt with his tongue, “you’ll be my dessert every night,”

“Ah,” Your head rocks back as pleasure lights up your spine, “baby,”

“Mm,” He groans into your core, burying his face against you and alternating perfectly between sharp sucks and flicks of his tongue.

You are moving fast, from nothing to desperate something in the span of a couple of hours, but honestly you’ve never felt safer and better and more held than this. His hands roam your body, seeking every soft place he can grab and squeeze and hold onto, and you just know the bruises on your hips will be worth it when he finally fucks you.

“Come on,” He tips your hips back to get better access, wrapping his arms around your thick thighs, “don’t be shy,”

“Oh, shit,” Your hand flies down to grip his hair and anchor your position as he manhandles you, your other hand gripping the cushions, “just like that,”

He sucks harder and flicks the tip of his tongue against your bud again, quickening his pace and listening carefully for your sounds to know what you need. Looking down between your legs you can barely believe the sight, but there he is, Choi Seungcheol with his face glistening. His lips are puffy and red, his eyes hooded, and he grins when he sees you watching before nodding just a little and redoubling his efforts.

Your legs are trembling now, the start of your orgasm building up through the base of your spine and flooding warmth into your belly, and if he wasn’t holding you so tightly you’re sure you’d snap.

“Baby,” You whine, your voice sounding not quite your own as heat floods in your chest, “oh, God, please don’t stop,”

He sucks hard, shifting to kiss your core and push the tender muscle of his tongue inside you, “I’ve got you,” he pants as he works his tongue faster, “I’ve got you,”

He’s a mess, wet with slick across cheeks and sweat on his brow, and you think for a split second you might actually be in love with this man already, no one has ever, ever treated your body quite like this. As he shifts to tease your clit again, building the pleasure up and up higher, you grip down on his hair harder.

“I’m,” You stammer out, your back arching and your mouth falling slack, “I’m gonna,”

He nods into you but doesn’t stop the pace of his tongue one bit.

“I’m,” You gasp again, “coming, fuck, I’m coming,”

It hits you all at once, punctuated with his sharp suck to your clit and your legs snap shut around his head, your body wrenching sideways as the wave takes you from conscious to that hazy middle space of pleasure. You can barely breathe, you can't even think, all you can do is feel pulse after pulse of pleasure.

“Fuck,” He curses, and your brain connects enough to realize your legs are still snapped tightly shut around his ears but you can’t get your body to respond, “yeah, fuck, there you go,”

Everything you are is trembling in his hands.

“I could fucking die happy,” He says, shifting to nip your plush thigh with his teeth, his hands gripping down on your curves, “right here between your legs,”

You make a sound, you think, and he chuckles against your skin.

“Mm-mm,” He sighs pleasantly, his hands running from your thighs to your hips and down to cup your backside, “you’re fucking gorgeous, y/n, I love every fucking inch of you,”

“Y-yeah?” Your eyes flutter open.

“Mhm,” He flicks his tongue over your clit once more, eliciting a deep shudder from your hips before he says, “I can’t wait to fuck you,”

Your legs start to relax, and you look down, “Then fuck me,”

“I want another first,” He shakes his head, “please, let me make you come again, sweetheart,”

“Oh,” You shiver as he kisses your slit again, letting his tongue linger, “fuck,”

He sighs, “This pussy,”

“Cheol,” You blush hard.

“I would do anything,” He smiles, flicking your clit again with his tongue, “for this perfect fucking pussy,”

“Anything?”

He goes still between your legs and then he nods, wetting his lips with his tongue, pressing a kiss to your quivering cunt, and looking up over your body to meet your eyes, “Anything.”

“Will you come up here?” You reach for him, “Will you hold me?”

He eases your legs down off his shoulders and shifts up, “Yeah, of course,”

“Will you,” You nearly come again just at the sight of a sizeable wet spot on his sweats, and you tug at his shirt to try and silently communicate your need, “I want to touch you too,”

“Mhm,” He stands up, shucking off his clothes as quickly as he can, and when he pushes down his boxer briefs your muscles clench.

When you were younger, a teenager inexperienced with sex and boys, you imagined his cock. You saw the faint outline of it once through a pair of athletic shorts and you wondered what he might look like naked. You wondered if you would like his body. You wondered if he would like yours too. You can’t really remember what you imagined Seungcheol’s cock to look like, but you know this is better. It’s long, but not too long, like the guys who can’t fit it in all the way without smashing painfully into your cervix, but it’s thick. His cock is heavy, deserving of the word, and perfectly straight until the very end where it curls up towards his abdomen.

You want him inside you so badly you could cry.

“You okay?” He says as he slides up the couch next to you, your naked hip against his.

“A little nervous,” You admit quietly, turning towards him on the cushions and drawing him closer with your hand on his shoulder.

“Me too,” He says softly, maneuvering until one arm is wrapped around your back and your head is pillowed on his other, your chests flush against each other, his cock trapped between your stomachs.

“God,” You shift closer to him, tangling your legs together, “you’re so hard,”

He nods, sighing at the way your skin drags against his, “You’re making me insane,”

“Good,” You smile, finding his lips with yours, tasting yourself on him and dipping your tongue into his mouth as you deepen the kiss.

He groans against you, and you snake a hand between your bodies to wrap around his aching cock. “Oh, fuck,” he curses as you pump your hand up and down his shaft, “easy, it’s been a while,”

“Yeah?” You soften your grip a little, rolling your hand at the tip and feeling precum bead up and smear on your belly, “Saving yourself for me, baby?”

He moans softly, his eyes rolling shut, “You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

“Maybe,” You kiss the corner of his mouth and pump his cock a little harder.

“L-let me touch you,” He pants, his hand pushing your hips back just enough so that he can fit a hand in between your thighs, “can I touch you?”

It’s dizzying how much he begs to pleasure you, and you’re starting to think maybe this is part of what he needs, but you’re still new to each other’s bodies and learning and you suppose you’ll have time to figure all of this out. It’s not just a one night thing.

“Touch me,” You open your legs for him and he immediately slides his fingers down your slit to your aching entrance.

“Don’t stop,” He urges you and you realize at the feeling of his fingers you stopped pumping your hand.

You smile, kissing him again and finding a new pace with a stroke of your hand and a roll of your wrist, “You feel so good, baby,”

“So do you,” He pants, and then he pushes two fingers inside your slick walls.

You choke out a wine, pushing your hips forwards into his hand so he can go deeper.

“God,” He holds you firm with his other hand, “you’re too tight,”

“Too tight?” You huff, still working your hand over his cock, “never gotten that complaint before,”

“Not a complaint, princess,” He teases, drawing his fingers out of your channel before thrusting back inside, “but I need to prep you a little, I don’t want to hurt you,”

Your muscles clench down around his fingers.

He laughs softly, “Oh, yeah, babygirl? You want me inside?”

You nod, a whine trapped on your lips, “Cheol, please,”

“Shh, shh,” He shifts, effectively sliding down the couch a little more while you slide up, and he rests his head on your shoulder and adjusts the angle of his arm so he can pump his fingers in and out of your channel at a steadier pace. He watches the way his fingers disappear inside you with rapt attention, cursing when he feels you grip down on him, “You want to come again?”

“P-please,” You’re doing your best to keep working your hand, but at the way his fingers are curled inside you and pressing rhythmically against your sweet spot you think you’re about to see stars again.

“Fuck, baby,” He sighs, “you’re so sexy,”

All you can do is moan, grip down on his shoulder and let him have you.

When he pushes in a third finger to stretch you, you gasp tightly at the sensation, the pleasure rocketing up your back and making your brain buzz.

“Are you close?” He pumps his hand harder, finding your nearby nipple with his tongue and your body arches again.

“Close,” You pant, your legs widening as you try to brace yourself, your hand falling away from his cock and gripping down on his thigh as the rolling wave of your orgasm starts to wash up over you.

“Come for me,” He’s gripping you hard, like you belong to him and he wants only to please you, and his words combined with the way his hands lay on you leaves you coming apart at the seams.

The sound of it is obscene, wet and filthy and pornagraphic and you’ve never in your life had sex with someone for the first time and had it be anything close to perfect. Your bodies want each other with such need. It's entirely outside your conscious brain, and you think if he can love your body like this then maybe he can love all the other parts of you, and you never want to let him go.

Your orgasm hits you harder than the first, locking your body up in spasmodic elation, and he curls around you when you twist to make sure he works you through the crest of it, his hand only slowing down when the pulses of pleasure start to ease.

When you come back to earth, you’re pressed face down onto the couch instead of up, your cheek against the cool fabric below you. Seungcheol is wrapped around your body like he’s glued to your back, and you feel his soft breath against your cheek and shoulder, his easy kisses on whatever part of you he can reach. His hand is still tucked underneath you and between your legs, cupping your cunt warmly and just holding you as you come down.

“Cheol?” You murmur, your brain almost a little foggy at the heady feeling of two full body orgasms.

“Hey, there you are,” He kisses you again, “feeling okay?”

“Mm,” You nod, “so, so good,”

He smiles, “Yeah? Did I get you?”

You laugh against the cushions, shaking your head, “Babe, I just came so hard I blacked out,” your body stretches, pressing your core into the cup of his hand, “you definitely got me,”

“Mm,” He rocks his hand and you sigh a little overstimulated sound, “should we stop here?”

He doesn’t know, you realize it suddenly, he has no idea how badly you want him. He’s been so focused on your body, your pleasure, your wants, but you can see it now in the hesitation in voice that he still doesn’t know for sure if you want to be here with him or if you just wanted someone.

He’s been touching you like it might be the only time, his only chance to have you and hold you in his arms. Didn’t he believe you when you said it wasn’t one night?

“Seungcheol,” You wriggle in his arms, “baby,”

“What’s wrong?” He gives you the space to roll and you twist against him.

You see his eyes when you turn, like he’s waiting for something and you curse yourself inside for not telling him like he was telling you. You smile, pushing his shoulder until he’s flat on his back, “What’s wrong is that you’re not inside me,”

“O-oh,” He gasps as you hook a leg over his hips and straddle him, your body hovering over his prone cock.

“Mhm,” You drop your body over him, your slick slit nestling directly over his cock, “but I’ve been so selfish,”

He shakes his head to protest but you lay your fingers over his lips to stop him.

“I want you, Cheol,” You drag your hips and find the head of his cock so you can dip and press it against your entrance, “so fucking much,”

He’s breathing heavy against your hand, your eyes locked on eachother.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” You stay steady above him.

He nods, just a little.

“I’ve never wanted anybody like I want you,” You tell him, “never,”

His lip quirks a little, a small smile as he presses a kiss to your fingers, “I’m all yours,” he whispers.

You sink your hips back in one smooth flush motion, taking him inside you to the hilt without warning, and his head falls back as he moans. He’s stretching you out wide and full, his thick cock pushing into every spot inside you that you didn’t know could feel like this.

“Oh my fuck,” Your body moves on it’s own, rocking your hips in a circle to take him deeper and roll your clit across his pubic bone, “Cheol, Cheol,”

He blinks hard, finding your eyes at the sound of his voice, “Yeah?”

You feel strangely like you might cry at the rush of endorphins, and you roll your hips again, whining out a need, “Hold me, please? Please, touch me,”

Seungcheol softens, his hands unclench on the cushions below him and he coasts his warm hands over your thighs, your hips, up and down your sides, “I’m right here,” he murmurs.

You relish in the feeling of it, and you direct them from their wandering comfort to a landing place on your hips, the perfect soft place for him to grip in with his fingers and keep you steady while you work him. He follows your lead, watching you above him with no hesitation, and his mouth falls slack when he watches you get your position right on your knees and lift up to draw his cock out of your warm, wet channel.

“y/n,” He pants tightly.

You sink back down hard and he groans, cursing and no doubt leaving a pretty bouquet of bruises where his fingers press down.

“Your cock,” You moan as you bounce again, finding a steady rhythm, “you feel so perfect,”

“Yeah?” He bounces you, teeth clenched as he tries not to come too early.

“Made for me,” You grind down and jolt against the pleasure, “never felt something this good,”

He groans, a hot pant of breath and then he stutters his hips upwards, “D-don’t, I’ll come,”

“Good,” You sink down and back up, feeling him stretch you open again and again.

“Come here,” He reaches up for you, tugging you down by your neck to get you close and you can feel him suddenly reposition and change the angle, take back control as he pins you to his chest and pumps his hips.

The way his cock punches into you, curved and pressing directly into your g-spot, makes you choke out a moan and dig your nails into his chest.

“Say you love my cock,” He pants suddenly in your ear, “if it feels so good, say it, tell me,”

You moan sharply, “I fucking love your cock,”

“Fuck yes,” His hand claps down on your ass and grips you tight as his hips piston upwards.

“Ah, ah,” Your legs are trembling again, “I can’t,”

“Yes, you can,” He pants, “I want to feel you come on my cock, babygirl, squeeze me,”

Your eyes slam shut.

“So fucking tight,” He breathes, “so wet,”

“For you,” You choke out and hips stutter.

“Oh, f-fuck,” He pushes up hard, but instead of thrusting he locks his hips there with your bodies pressed flush together and at the sound of his sudden moan, the way his hands lock tight on your body, the way warmth floods your belly, you know he’s coming.

Your brain somersaults and you rock your hips, trying to keep catching the friction against your clit to help push you over the edge, “Ah,” you whine, “no, please,”

He doesn’t go anywhere though, he just presses his hips up to keep giving you the pressure you need and holds your hips down with his broad hands, and you hear him hiss at the overstimulation but he groans and manages, “Come baby, you’re so close, there you go, there you go,”

You’re saying something, but you can’t really hear it. All you can feel is the bubble about to burst inside you as you drag yourself fast and frantic against his body. You’re needy and seconds away, falling into trembles again.

“So beautiful,” He mumbles, dragging your mouth up to his and locking you in a heady kiss.

“Cheol!” You squeak against him, body cracking apart into shakes as you come, probably louder than you wanted to as you fall into the sweet space between his neck and shoulder.

“I’ve got you,” His softening cock slides out as you come, but he slides a hand between your thighs and rubs fast circles on your swollen clit, “fuck, look at you, god, you’re such a mess,”

Your brain is dizzy as he talks you through the edges of your orgasm.

“So wet,” He bites down softly on your shoulder, “soaked for me and full of my cum, fuck,”

As you collapse on his chest, your orgasm receding, his hand slows, but his fingers stay slipped between your folds in the messy mixture of your slick wetness and his release. You are a mess, but he seems to like it and if you’re benign honest so do you.

“I’m so,” You breathe out, shaky and exhausted, “god, I don’t know,”

“Mhm,” He sighs, and finally he slides his fingers out of you to rest on your hip, his other hand stroking a line up and down your back while you recover together.

You need to get up, run to the bathroom and get the shower started, but you’re boneless and floating and he’s just the perfect temperature, so for a little while you don’t move.

When he shifts his hips under yours to readjust your eyes pop open and you start to move, “Am I hurting you?”

“Shh,” He wraps his arms around you and gathers you tight to his chest, “don’t you dare go anywhere,”

“Yeah?”

“You’re perfect,” He repeats and you smile against his skin, “next time I want you sitting on my face,”

You laugh against him, “Next time?”

He’s quiet, his fingers still dragging up and down your spine, “If you want,”

You shift up in his arms, settling on his chest so that you can see his face, “So much,”

He cups your cheek, brushing his thumb along your face, as he smiles, “I missed you, you know,”

Tears prick at the back of your eyes and your throat goes thick, and you don’t trust your voice but you nod and press your lips to his, “I missed you too, all the time,”

He gives you a moment, just staying calm and kind with his hands, and then he leans up to capture your lips once more, this kiss so much softer and more familiar from the frantic emotion a few minutes ago. His kisses travel from your lips to your forehead and then he smooths back the tangled mess of your hair, “We should get cleaned up,” he murmurs, “how are you feeling?”

“Like I might not ever walk again,” You joke wryly.

“I didn't hurt you, did I?” He leans to look you over, “I got a little carried away,”

You shake your head, “No, I’m perfect, I promise,”

“We didn’t talk much beforehand,” He notes, brushing his palm over the swell of your hip, dipping at your hip crease, and tracing up over again at the curve of your thigh, “I just want to be sure you’re feeling okay with everything,”

“I’d tell you if I wasn’t,” You press, “you know I would,”

“Good,” He sighs.

You stretch on top of him, your knees aching from your curled position and you smile, “You want to get a shower? We can share the hot water,”

“You’re insatiable,” He quirks an eyebrow at you.

“Not for sex,” You slap his chest lightly as you climb off him, wincing at the sudden stretch of your knees, “I can barely move,”

“I like a challenge,” He sighs, rolling off the chaise and stretching long and you catch yourself watching the strong flex of his back, the cut of his shoulders, the curve of his ass and his muscular thighs.

Maybe you could rally.

Seungcheol turns and his eyes flick over your body too, “Yeah,” he nods, “I think I can get one more out of you,”

“My shower is shockingly small, so,” You reach for him, guiding him down the hall with you, “we’ll see,”

“I said I like a challenge,” He shrugs, and all of a sudden you can’t stop laughing.

Your shower is small, but in the end it doesn’t matter. Seungcheol ends up crouched on his knees anyways, with one of your legs hitched over his shoulder while he takes his sweet time with his tongue bringing you up to your softest, easiest orgasm of the night. You trade lazy kisses in the warmth after, the suds long gone and your fingers pruned by the time you fall into bed.

You don’t have to ask him to stay, he just does. You talk for as long as you can keep your eyes open, stories of years ago when you saw him almost every single day. You whisper late into the night, until finally he falls asleep first, his head lolled to the side, but his hand still wrapped tightly around yours.

You tumble into sleep right alongside him, his skin smelling of sweet peach and nectarine.

In the morning, you wake up to something cold suddenly pressed to your cheek and you start to stitch together the world around you in quick threads.

“Kkuma,” Seungcheol’s voice reaches you first, a hushed whisper as he tries to get his dog’s attention, “come here girl, let her sleep,”

You groan a little, and you realize the something cold was Kkuma’s very wet nose against your cheek. Instead of listening to Seungcheol, she presses her nose to you again and follows it up with a lick, her panting excitement pushing you from laying on your side to your back as she collapses over your chest.

“Kkuma!” He exclaims quietly, “down girl!”

Your eyes start to pop open, and this time you see his dog’s fluffy white face inches from your own, delighted that you’re awake.

“Kkuma,” He tries to drop his voice to a lower tone to get her attention.

“It’s okay,” You yawn, reaching up to scratch Kkuma behind the ears, “I’m awake now,”

“I’m sorry,” Seungcheol moves into your bedroom, and you can see he’s fully dressed and has been for some time, “I didn’t think she would just jump on you like that,”

Your brain is still a little sluggish and you rub your hand over your face, “Did you go home?”

He grins and nods at your sleepy question, the answer obvious from the dog on your chest, “Yeah, I needed to run home and take her for a walk, I hope you don’t mind I let myself back in,”

“Not at all,” You smile up at him, “I’m just sad you’re not in the cuddle pile,”

“We can fix that,” He tosses his beanie on your nightstand and then holds up a little carrier containing two coffees and a few little pastry bags, “and I bring gifts,”

“From that place by your apartment?” You brighten, recognizing the stamped logos on the cups.

“Mhm,” He passes over your cup, “sugar, no cream,”

“You remembered,” You push yourself up in bed, Kkuma adjusting herself to snuggle into your side, and accept the cup, “thank you,”

He lays his heavy denim jacket on the chair by your dresser and slips back into bed with you, dragging the covers back over both your legs, “Of course, I did, not that much could have changed in a year, right?”

“Mm-mm,” Your legs slide together as you tuck under his arm and settle back into his chest.

His fingers play with the ends of your hair while he sips his coffee, and then he sighs, “y/n,”

Your stomach freezes and you wonder if you’re about to get let down easy. If waking up in the morning cleared his head, if a text from Mingyu changed his mind, if on the trip back to his place he worked out the right way to break your heart, if he practiced it out loud in his car with the dog.

“What’s up?” You say, hoping you sound far more casual than you feel.

“About Gyu,” He exhales heavy, his coffee leaning against his thigh as he gathers his words, “listen,”

“Don’t,” You murmur, pressing your eyes closed, “please don’t go,”

“Go?” He asks.

“I’ll tell him, and I know he’ll be fine after the shock wears off,” You twist in the bed to look up at him, “please just stay, last night was… Cheol, please just think about this,”

His brows knit together tight in confusion and he sets his coffee on your bedside table to free up his hand and brush it along your cheek, “I was going to say, about Gyu, I’m meeting him for lunch at two. I’d like to tell him about us today,”

“You what,” You blink.

“I’d like to tell him that I picked you up after your date,” He says, “and that we got to talking, and that we kissed,”

You can almost see Mingyu’s wide puppy eyes as he realizes where the story is going to go.

“And that I asked you out on a date,” Seungcheol finishes, “and he’s going to ask me a lot of other questions which I definitely am not going to answer, except one thing,”

You swallow nervously, your coffee almost tipping to the side forgotten in your hands until he plucks it up and sets it to the side.

“He’s going to ask me if I’m serious about you,” He says calmly, like you’ve discussed this before, “and I’m going to say yes, but that’s the kind of thing you should know before your brother does.”

“You’re serious about me,” You say it back, your heart picking up as the words come off your tongue.

“Yes,” He nods, unequivocal, “and I hope you feel the same way because before I drive across town and tell my best friend I’m in love with his sister, I just need to know if you feel even a tenth of that,”

Your heart should be pounding, your stomach fluttering, your body flooding with emotion at the casual confession, but all you feel is calm. Mingyu told you once that life would fall into place, you just never thought you’d have that realization while it was happening around you.

You try to keep a straight face when you say, “There’s only one problem,”

“Okay,” He says, but you watch his hand fidget in his lap.

“You never actually asked me out on a date,” You point out with a smile, “and I don’t want to lie to Mingyu about anything,”

He grins, his tongue dragging against one side of his teeth as he shakes his head in disbelief, “You’re right,” he says, “that’s my mistake, will you go out with me?”

“I’d love to,” You lean into him so you can press a quick kiss to his lips and take his hand in yours, lacing his anxiously twitching fingers with yours to hold him steady, “and if Gyu gives you any lip about this,” you kiss him again, “tell him I’m in love with his best friend,”

“You are?” His fingers tighten on your hand.

“Mhm,” You suddenly can’t keep your lips away from his, “and you tell him that if he does anything to ruin this, that I’ll make him sorry,”

“Now that,” He laughs, “that I believe,”

You pull him down to you and your body without another word, and with a hushed apology he pushes Kkuma off the bed so he can splay you out in the middle of the mattress. He takes you fast, hurried and full of need now that you have so much time ahead of you for slow. For now, you have a lot of catching up to do.

When you finally make it out of bed the coffee is cold and Seungcheol is late for lunch.

#honeyhotteoks updates #honeyhotteoks fics #seventeen ff #seventeen fic #svt fanfic #svt ff #scoups x reader #seungcheol x reader #choi seungcheol #scoups #scoups fic #scoups smut #scoups ff #seungcheol smut #seungcheol fluff

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l0vergirlwrites · 4 months ago

Note

A totally random fic request but something where like reader sees like the team treats Spencer badly like interrupting him or something or like making him feel bad and the reader just like following Spencer out and like holding him I guess or something like that, sorry it’s rlly vague 😭😭

elevator sweetness ; spencer reid

synopsis: after another slightly deprecating comment was made about spencer, you offer him a shoulder to lean on & some kind words.

warnings: mentions of spencer being a bit sad, morgan making a comment about spencer (ily but leave my boy alone lmao), sorta new to the bau fem!reader, non-established relationship but future relationship is teased, fluff & slight angst themes, loosely based on s2 ep8

note: thank you for the request! i hope you like it! 💌

you first noticed it when you walked into the bullpen that morning, leather saddle bag snug on your shoulder as you beelined for your desk. you sat at the cluster of cubicle styled desks across from spencer’s, giving you a perfect view of him, which you’ve come to find is a blessing & a curse.

he had walked in moments after you, eyes drawn to the floor or inanimate objects, that curious twinkle was missing, & his soft smile was nowhere to be seen. spencer just sat at his desk, throwing himself into his work without greeting anyone or even getting a start on his morning coffee.

it made your lips pull into a small frown as you turned your gaze back onto your computer before anyone noticed you looking at him for too long.

“bau—conference room in fifteen” hotch’s voice broke through the morning chatter, the tiniest pit of dread filling your tummy after his alert. you wondered what the case was this time.

after going through your emails in a dash, you made your way to the small office kitchenette to grab a coffee before the round table, glancing spencer’s way once more. you saw derek perched by his desk, a teasing smile on his face like normal, but spencer remained rigid.

it made you frown again.

by the time fifteen minutes passed, you were in the conference room with two cups of coffee, casually placing one where spencer usually sits before the others noticed. you made sure to add lots of cream & sugar.

when spencer walked in, tight lipped & awkward, he felt a little lighter when he saw the coffee on the table. as jj grabbed everyone’s attention, his eyes fell onto you.

“thank you” he mouthed before opening the tab on the plastic lid, lightly blowing on it as jj played a video on the tv screen.

this weeks case was dealing with a kidnapping. three high-school girls from a small town, all athletes with bright futures—but they disappeared out of nowhere with odd voicemails as the only evidence to go off of for now.

“are we sure that they aren’t just going on a road trip? they said they’d be back by the weekend & their parents aren’t all that worried so—“.

cutting morgan off, spencer spoke up, much to your surprise. “but their voicemails were quite cryptic. clean cut. as if they were reading off of a script—“.

slightly rolling his eyes, morgan interrupted spencer. “you know, not every high schooler is a stickler for the rules like you were. it’s normal for teenagers to make impromptu plans while they’re young—have a little fun even”.

about to rebut his point, spencer opted to stay silent. he’s used to being picked on, jabbed a little here & there for his goody toe shoes persona around the team. but today just wasn’t the day he could brush it off easily.

noticing spencer’s body language closing in as he slightly slumped into his chair, you took your turn to speak. “morgan, spencer’s right. the girls sound almost afraid on the phone—monotone, maybe even apprehensive. plus, they both said the exact same thing to their parents—word for word. just because their parents aren’t super worried doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be” you pointed out, jj quickly agreeing with you before gideon & hotch followed suit.

the meeting soon wrapped up with a warning that the jet would be leaving in half an hour, causing the team to scramble to prepare. as spencer made his way to the elevator, you decided it was your moment just to check in with him.

“spencer!” you gently called out, seeing him stop walking & turn around to see you. it made you smile a little when you saw that he was still nursing the coffee you made for him.

saying your name in greeting, spencer & you continued to walk once you were at his side. “grabbing your go bag?” you asked & he confirmed with a nod.

“could i tag along? i have to get mine from my car too. what do you usually pack in yours?”.

as you both waited for an elevator in the busy office atmosphere, conversation came easy. you noted the way spencer spoke almost hesitantly, as if he was conscious of him rambling too much that he censored himself. you came to learn that he always packs a few books in his bag with sticky tabs to annotate—it’s become a new hobby of his.

once an elevator became free, the doors closed before anyone else could occupy it. so it was just you & spencer.

despite the decently large space, you both hovered to the centre with a few inches of personal space separating your arm from brushing his. the thought of it made a chill run up your spine.

“can i ask you something?” you fiddled with your fingers, tempted to pick off the black nail polish you wore as you looked to spencer.

you could tell he was still down in the dumps about something, but without the loud chatter of the office, a metaphorical weight was lifted off his shoulders for a moment.

“sure. what’s your question?”.

swallowing your anxiety in fear it was out of line to ask, you felt like it was right. “is it normal for the others to kinda, i dunno, make comments about you like that?”

you watched as spencer’s face sort of furrowed, clearly not expecting a question like that. he was unsure whether he should answer it honestly or brush it off. he’s gotten used to doing that.

“uh…” he licked his lips, looking away from you to think.

you cringed. “sorry if that’s weird of me to ask”.

he shook his head. “n-no, it’s okay. i-uh, just wasn’t expecting you to ask that” he scratched his neck, swallowing his own nerves as he continued to look at the metal floor of the elevator.

he wondered why it was moving so slow.

“i’m used to the comments—most are made in good fun, i know they aren’t targeted to get under my skin. but uh… people have said stuff like that, even worse, my whole life. so it doesn’t really bother me as much as it used to” he explained, tight lipped again as he nodded his head, finger drumming against the metal rail.

he knew you could see right through him though. “it doesn’t mean those comments can’t hurt sometimes though. you’re allowed to feel uncomfortable by them” you assure him, trying to validate his feelings like you wished others did for you too.

you knew exactly how he felt. different circumstances, but same feelings nonetheless.

the fragility & kindness behind your words made spencer’s chest ache as he turned his head to look at you again, seeing nothing but empathy across your features.

“i know it’s not my place, but i also know that it’s not fun for them to jab at you like that every now & then. i just wanted you to know that i…i have your back, you know… that i care”

spencer let the tiny crease in his brow dissipate, his eyes softened, & he felt a blanket of warmth spread across his body at your words. he didn’t know what he did to deserve someone so kind.

he almost felt choked up. “that’s really nice of you,” he spoke your name with such sweetness, it made your heart break into two & mend back together. “y-you don’t know how much that means to me. really”.

you gave him a warm smile in return, not realizing that your hands were just barely touching his against the metal rail. “it’s no biggie. i know you’d do the same for me” & spencer nods, affirming that what you said was true.

“i would—i-i do” he corrected, letting a smile grace his lips too. you didn’t realize how much you missed it.

“pinky promise?” you proposed, slowly lifting up your hand, pinky outstretched. you hoped it would lighten the mood a bit.

spencer took it without hesitation.

“pinky promise”.

soon enough, the elevator opened to the car park & you both walked in tandem to his car before reaching yours. more conversation was made along the way, one even included a promise that you both would sit next to each other on the jet & listen to music from an album you recommended him.

from that moment on, spencer couldn’t look at you without noticing the way your tucked your hair behind your ears, the crinkle in your eyes when you smiled, or how your laugh made his heart feel fuzzy.

he didn’t know that in this moment, he fell for you. & he wouldn’t realize it for another year.

#l0vergirlwrites💌#spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid criminal minds #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler #mgg #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fanfiction

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soaps-mohawk · 1 year ago

Text

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 2 - Adjustments

Summary: You're struggling a bit in your adjustment to your new life, and you're finding some of them are easier to get along with than others. Luckily you're not in it alone.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, let's be real this is so unrealistic but it's a/b/o you're not here for accuracy.

Author's Note: I'm so just overwhelmed with the attention this fic has gotten, but not in a bad way I promise! I'm just surprised is all. Thank you everyone that has read and reblogged and commented. I love all of you and so, since I have no self control, here is Chapter 2. Lots more world building and dialogue in this part, but I promise good stuff is coming.

Also I promise Soap will get his time soon. He's just the hardest for me to write, and you'll see why in this chapter.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

“She was lying.”

Price doesn’t bother looking up as a dark figure leans against the wall next to him. He stares out at the empty space between the barracks and the mess hall, not much traffic between the buildings during this time of day.

“About how she got to the institute.”

“Or at least not telling the whole truth.” Price says, turning to look at Simon. “Something tells me she’d talk if we asked.”

“She’s soft.” Simon says, letting his gaze drift off into the distance.

“She’s a civilian.” Price counters. “The CIA did a little training, but she’ll need some work. We can’t leave her completely defenseless...”

Simon turns to face him again. “There’s something else.”

Price pushes himself off the wall, heading back inside. Simon follows, the two of them making their way down the hall to his office. “There’s hundreds of American military bases across the world, thousands of regiments they could have chosen from, and yet, they sent her to us.”

Simon closes the door behind him as Price sinks into his desk chair. “You think it was deliberate?”

Price pulls open one of the drawers, pulling out the file Kate had given him. “Laswell said the CIA has had eyes on her for years.” He slides it across his desk to Simon. “There’s a lot of why's in this situation, and a lot of how’s. Like, if what she’s saying is true, how did a Staff Sergeant get his daughter into FIOT practically overnight?”

Simon glances up at him over the top of the file. “You think there’s something else going on with this Initiative.”

Price nods. “I do. I think there’s more than one experiment being run, and we’re the guinea pigs.”

You stare at your reflection in the mirror as you run a comb through your damp hair. You look tired, the dark circles that have plagued your face for the last few weeks looking even darker now. It’s been a long day, so long it’s hard to believe it’s only been a matter of hours since you boarded the helicopter in London.

Your new pack had made themselves scarce after dinner, leaving you to your own devices. You had been left alone after lunch too, and you had spent that time laying in bed, resting after the overwhelming scenting.

You’d played back the last few hours in your mind. Leaving London in the helicopter, meeting your new Pack Alpha, Laswell leaving, meeting your new pack, the scenting. You had plenty to think about, to stress over, and you had been surprised when the knock came at your door for dinner. You were equally surprised to see Gaz and Soap waiting for you.

You’d been sandwiched between them again as you walked to the mess. It was busier for dinner, and the eyes weren’t quite so quick to look away with the alphas missing. You know they have to be curious, with an omega on base following around two members of a SpecOps team, smelling like them. You know what they were probably thinking of you, what they were thinking your presence means.

You’ve begun to understand Price’s rules a bit more.

Price and Ghost had joined you as Soap said they would, coming in late from whatever they had been busy doing. You had been seated next to Soap, Ghost taking his other side while Price sat next to Gaz. It hadn’t gone unnoticed to you how close Soap and Ghost sat, and you remembered the look in Ghost’s eyes when Soap had approached to scent you. How his defensive stare had turned icy, threatening even, when he’d gotten close to you as if you were capable of hurting Soap. It had been a silent warning. If you tried anything, you’d have him to contend with.

Ghost is territorial, more so than most alphas. You had seen it just a bit in Price, but only because you had been watching for it. Ghost was silent in his claim, but his gaze spoke of his territorialism. As you sat at the table with them, you slowly felt the stares lessen, the curious alphas and betas around you slowly turning away from your table until you were left in peace. You knew it was all thanks to a well-pointed glare from the second alpha at the table.

They’d escorted you back to the barracks before disappearing again, leaving you alone. You’d opted for a shower to try and clear your head, exhaustion weighing heavy in your limbs but your mind was racing too much to really get any rest. You haven’t been told what their normal schedules entail or even what they look like, but you expect an early morning tomorrow. Since Price had said at least one of them needed to escort you around base, that likely meant you were going to be constrained to their schedules.

You know even when they’re not away, their days are probably full of training and briefings, much like yours had been for three months. They’re probably up early, earlier than you’d like to be, and then they go non-stop all day.

You wonder if they ever get a break.

Maybe this is a break for them.

You sit on the edge of the bed after you finish your routine, eyeing the pillows and blankets stacked at the end. They’re military issue, not as soft or as plush as you might have preferred. This is your new normal, though. Comfort isn’t exactly going to be a high priority.

Tears prick your eyes as you run your hand over the comforter. You know it’s the exhaustion, the stress of the day beginning to weigh on you. You’re worn out, and that’s causing a slip in the tight reins you keep on your mood. Omegas and alphas were both prone to being moody, and those who were unrestrained could lose control quickly. Alphas were quick to anger, while omegas could get depressed very easily. Exhaustion drives both to being grumpy, though alphas will descend into irritability and anger, while omegas will get whiny and weepy.

You hate it, how easily you can be driven to cry. How easily you can lose control. It makes you feel weak and helpless, but that’s partially by design. It was supposed to be your pack’s job to fix that, to give you that support and take care of you.

Except you don’t know your pack.

What would they do if you approached them like this, all teary and needy? Would instinct take over and snap them into their roles? Or would they give you an awkward pat on the back and leave you to take care of yourself? Gaz would help you, you think. He had slipped into that role so easily during the scenting. Your fingers twitch on the bedspread, your mind telling you to seek him out, track him down, even if it’s only to catch a whiff of his scent again.

Your phone screen lights up where it’s sitting on the nightstand, drawing your attention from the door. Kate had given you the phone just this morning before you left the hotel. It had her number on it, as well as your pack’s. You’d half expected to find messages already from them when you’d turned it on, but there had been none. They had kept that boundary of meeting in person first.

You pick up the phone, checking the message. It’s from Price.

Breakfast is at 0700. I’ll take you to see the Omega Specialist after.

Seven o’clock. It’s not terribly early. You’d eaten around the same time at the institute. You’ll get to meet the Omega Specialist as well tomorrow. You’ve met plenty of them in your time as an omega, but something about the idea of having someone there who knows, who understands is comforting to you.

You send a reply in acknowledgement for tomorrow’s plan before setting an alarm for tomorrow morning. There’s an uneasy feeling under your skin, a tickling in the back of your mind that you can’t seem to relax. Your eyes are drawn to the desk where the shirts still sit, and before you know it you’re moving to the desk, letting your fingers trail over each one.

You grab Price’s shirt, taking it back to your bed. You curl up with your back facing the door, holding the shirt against your chest, letting the scent of tobacco smoke and whiskey fill your nose. Silent tears slide down your cheeks, your face pressing into the pillow to muffle your sobs.

As you try to muffle your tears, you miss the sound of boots pausing in front of your door, the person on the other side standing there for a moment before continuing down the hall.

You let out a groan as your alarm pulls you from sleep. You had drifted in and out for a few hours before finally managing to get a couple precious hours of sleep. You’d woken when the others got up. You knew they were trying to be quiet but you had heard them shuffling around, talking quietly amongst each other. You’re normally a fairly deep sleeper, but in a new place you always struggle.

A new place surrounded by almost complete strangers.

You turn off your alarm, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. They’re burning a bit, the exhaustion still weighing heavy on your shoulders. You pad to the bathroom, splashing cold water on your face to try and make yourself at least look more alive than you feel. The last thing you need is them getting worried about you. That’s attention you’re not sure you want right now.

You blink sleepily at your closet, trying to decide what to wear. Were you allowed to wear anything? You didn’t have much besides the basics, since the only thing you had been allowed to wear at the institute was its uniform and the clothes they provided. Then when you were with the CIA, they had provided clothes for you to wear as well. The things you have now had been bought by Kate before you left D.C.

Everyone on base wore similar variants of the same uniform. You’re not military, though, so you don’t think those rules apply to you. No one had said anything about your state of dress yesterday. You opt for comfort, knowing you’d likely find out soon if you were going to be forced to dress differently too.

You’re tying your shoes when the knock sounds on your door. You had heard the others moving around, footsteps in the hallway, opening and closing doors, quiet voices talking and Soap laughing at something. You know it’s one of them, yet the nervous tickle at the back of your head is back.

Soap is leaning casually against your doorframe when you open the door. His face lights up in a smile as he sees you. “Morning, bonny. Sleep alright?”

“Yeah.” You shrug. “Tossed and turned for a while.”

“We didne keep ye up did we?” He asks, his smile faltering just a bit.

You shake your head. “No, I never sleep well the first few nights in a new place.”

“Well, our beds are always open if ye need something more comfortable.” He winks at you playfully.

Your face warms at his words, the double meaning not lost on you. You were right, Soap was going to be the one to push your boundaries the most.

Gaz elbows him in the ribs as he passes. “She’s been here a day, mate, don’t go scaring her off now.” He leans on the other side of your doorframe, giving you a smile. “Morning.”

“Morning.” You say, your face still warm from Soap’s teasing.

“You hungry?” Gaz asks.

You nod. You do feel hungry this morning, likely a side effect from your emotional night last night. You step out of your room, the two betas stepping back to give you space as you close the door behind you. Ghost is leaning against the wall next to his door, his eyes watching with the typical cautious disinterest that seemed to be his default setting.

Gaz and Soap sandwich you between them again, close enough their arms brush yours as you walk. It was almost as if they could sense your inner turmoil, the neediness still tugging at the back of your mind. If Ghost hadn’t been trailing the three of you, you might have been tempted to give in and grip their sleeves, or slip your hands into theirs. How would Ghost respond to such a bold move? The mental image of your body flying through the air as he punted you into next week almost makes you laugh.

Price is already seated at a table frowning at his phone over a cup of coffee. Gaz and Soap load up your tray for you, something you’re getting used to rather quickly. It was expected from the alphas, or at least Price, to coddle you a bit, but it seemed the betas were more than happy to get in on it as well.

The thought makes something flutter in your chest.

You’re seated between Gaz and Price again once you reach the table, Price greeting you with a tired smile. “Morning. Sleep alright?”

“Not really.” You say honestly. “New place and all. I’ll settle in eventually.”

“Maybe the Omega Specialist can give you some ideas to help.” He glances at his watch before looking at you as you spoon a heaping spoonful of porridge into your mouth. “Take your time. We have until 8.”

You listen to the conversation at the table as you eat, Gaz and Soap talking about a football game that’s on tonight. You feel eyes on you, your skin prickling a bit. You glance up, half expecting Ghost to be glowering at you again, but his gaze is focused on his eggs. You cast a quick glance around the mess, turning slightly to look behind you.

Three tables over, you find the gaze of some soldier focused on you. You haven’t paid much attention to anyone else on the base, but then again you haven’t had much time or reason to yet. You can’t read the expression on his face as he stares at you, but you feel a shiver run down your spine as your eyes meet his.

He stares at you for a few seconds before his gaze moves slightly past you, quickly dropping back to his plate. You turn around, finding Ghost staring just past your head. His eyes are narrowed, his scent coming off stronger than it had been. You can practically see his hackles raised, the warning clear in the air. You feel the urge to curl in on yourself, the threatening aura radiating from him makes you want to cower.

It doesn't go unnoticed by those at the table either.

“Easy, Ghost.” Price says calmly, Gaz turning to follow his line of sight.

“Bloody wanker.” Ghost grumbles before rising from the table.

You turn back around, but the soldier that had been staring at you is gone.

You nervously pick at your sweatshirt sleeves as you sit in the plastic chair next to Price. You’re still on edge a bit from what happened at breakfast. It wasn’t so much being stared at that bothered you. After now three meals in the mess, you’ve almost come to expect it. It’s Ghost’s reaction that has your mind still reeling.

“I’ve always hated the medical center.” Price says with a sigh as he leans his head back against the wall. “It smells too sterile. Makes my nose burn. Reminds me of too many close calls.”

His words jar you a bit. You hadn’t even thought about that aspect of his job. He’s used to getting shot at, to getting into fights, running head first into danger that would send most running the other way. You wonder how many times he’s been the one with the close call, and how many others he’s had to watch have their own.

You wonder how many times he’s had to make that trip to tell someone’s family.

You’re pulled from your thoughts as the door across from you opens. Price pushes himself to his feet, and you follow as a kind looking woman steps out. You breathe a quiet sigh of relief. You don’t have anything against male Omega Specialists, but you were already surrounded by men. Sure you have Kate, but she’s half a world away.

She’s tall, dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. Despite being a doctor she’s dressed casually, no white coat or gloves to be seen. Her eyes are light green and crease in the corners when she smiles.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Keller.” She introduces herself, shaking Price’s hand.

American. You think, silently breathing another sigh of relief. Kate really had pulled some strings with this one.

“Captain John Price.” He says.

You introduce yourself when she turns to you, shaking your hand. Her voice is soft and gentle, the scent of beta coming off her in waves.

“Come on in,” She says, leading you into the office. “Sit anywhere you like. Make yourselves comfortable.”

Her office isn’t what you expected either. Instead of the harsh fluorescents, the lighting is softer, warmer. There’s paintings and posters all over the walls, along with several plants. There’s a desk covered in books and paperwork in one corner and a bookshelf with several books packed into it in the other. There’s a couch on one wall, and a couple plush looking chairs on the other.

You move to one of the chairs, sinking down onto it. It envelops you in softness, and you feel as if you might sink into it and never be able to get out. After a day of hard plastic and stiff blankets, it nearly makes you weep.

Price takes the chair next to you, Dr. Keller sitting on the couch across from you. The office smells good, a light, neutral scent in the air aside from the pure almondy scent of beta.

“Alright,” She says, holding a tablet and a stack of files in her lap. “I always like to start by introducing myself and telling you a bit about me, then we’ll get into the important stuff.”

She jumps into telling you about herself. Where she grew up: California. Where she studied: UC Berkeley. What institute she did her residency at: West Coast Training Academy. Where she worked last before Kate called her in: some poor inner city institute in LA.

“Now, on to the more important stuff.” She says, turning on the tablet. “I got your medical records yesterday. You’re quite the healthy girl.”

“Yes ma'am. I have good genes. That’s what my mom used to say.” You respond.

Dr. Keller smiles. “Hardly even been sick. Your heats are all normal, too, correct?”

“Yes, ma’am.” You say. “Except for a three month stretch two years ago.”

“Yes, the heat sickness epidemic that hit America.” She says.

You nod. “FIOT locked down completely and everyone was supposed to quarantine, but I heard a rumor that it was one of the beta food workers. She snuck out to see her alpha boyfriend and brought it in with her. We only think it was her because she disappeared not long after the first omega got sick.”

Dr. Keller hums. “I know not everyone was so willing to take it seriously. You made a full recovery, though. No lasting side effects, I’m sure thanks to the state of the art medical facilities that FIOT keeps.”

“Yes, ma’am. We were lucky it was just a mild case.”

“That is lucky.” She flips through something on the tablet. “Your lab results all look phenomenal. I like to do checkups monthly, just to ensure everything is working as it should. I know the CIA gave you quite the cocktail of vaccines while you were with them.” She turns her gaze to Price. “Captain Price, I’ve sent in a request for your team’s vaccination records as well. I’m sure you’ve had everything under the sun, but I’d like to ensure there’s no risk of any accidental exposures.”

“I don’t see a problem with that.” Price says. “If RAMC gives you any trouble, just let me know. I’ll get them for you myself.”

“Thank you, Captain.” She says. “One last bit in this part and then we can move on. I see FIOT issued an implant before you left, as is standard practice.”

You nod. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. You’ve had more than enough time for it to take effect so we won’t have to worry about any accidental slip ups during your next heat.”

Your cheeks warm at her words a bit. You’ve been trying to avoid thinking about that inevitable side of things.

“And your next heat is roughly six weeks away.” She says, looking at the calendar. “Don't be surprised if it comes a little earlier now that you’re being exposed to alphas again.”

Your stomach twists nervously at that thought. It was common for heats to be triggered early after exposure to alphas, especially after such a prolonged period without exposure to them. It wasn’t likely to start tomorrow, but you knew it could jump a week or two due to the natural pheromones alphas put off, and the instinctual call for the alpha/omega bond.

“You’re planning for the claiming to take place during the heat?” Dr. Keller asks.

“Yes, that’s the plan.” Price says.

“That is the most natural time for it.” Dr. Keller says. “Of course, it is always up to omega preference in the end.”

You don’t miss the way her eyes dart to you for a second.

“Now that that’s over with,” She says, putting the tablet to the side. “If it’s alright with you, I’d like to do this next part with just the two of us.”

A beat of silence passes before you realize she’s asking you. Her eyes are on you, and so are Price’s. She’s asking you. She’s asking you what you want.

“I-I guess...yeah.” You stutter over your words, not quite sure how to answer. Is there a wrong answer? Would Price be upset if you said yes? Would Dr. Keller be upset if you said no? Your eyes turn to Price, trying to gauge his reaction.

“It’s up to you.” He says softly. “We’re here for you.”

You sit up a little straighter at his words, nodding your head. “Y-Yes. That’s okay.”

Price pushes himself to stand up. “I’ll be right outside.”

The air inside the room seems to lighten as he leaves, Dr. Keller reclining back on the couch as the door clicks shut. She pulls out a stack of papers and a pen before she looks at you. Your palms are sweating, and you’re starting to think you’d like the chair to swallow you whole.

“This next part can feel a bit personal, but I just want you to know that everything you say in here is as confidential as you’d like it to be. Captain Price is right. I am an Omega Specialist, I’m here for you. I’m not just a doctor, I’m here to help you in all aspects of being an omega. I know FIOT teaches a lot, mainly obedience and compliance. I want to make it clear that you can be honest with me.” She holds up the stack of papers. “No one is going to see these papers but me, alright?”

“Yes, ma’am.” You nod.

“You don’t have to be so formal with me.” She smiles. “You can call me Dr. Keller, or Doc. You could even call me an evil bitch if you want, it won’t phase me any.”

You can’t help the small smile that forms on your face.

“I’ve got some questions I’d like to ask you. They’re a sort of tracker to measure how well you’re settling in and bonding with your new pack. I’d like to meet once a week until your next heat just to see how well you’re settling in. After that we can meet as often as you’d like. Sound good?”

You nod in approval. It sounds like a lot, but you also know you’re going to have a lot of downtime, even with your pack on base.

“Alright, let’s get started. How are you settling in? I know it’s barely been a day, but I want to know how you feel here.”

Your heart begins to pound in your chest. How do you feel here? How do you feel after being pulled from the institute and taken to a training facility where you found out you’d be moving halfway across the world to be a military pack’s omega.

This wasn’t what you had expected when you reached the age where you became an available omega. Most omegas at FIOT came from rich, powerful, important families and your purpose there was to be groomed into the perfect omega to return right back to that world.

You thought you would be chosen quickly. You had expected it. With your scores and your high ratings and your status, you were what most alphas dreamed of. Yet, the years had passed and though there was some interest, nothing had ever come of it. You weren’t alone in it. There were others like you, those who excelled at being an omega, but then seemed to stall in the selection once they came of age.

Of course, now that you look back on it, you can’t help but think it might have been done on purpose. The Omega Initiative was new, you had been told during your first briefing explaining why you were taken to a remote building somewhere outside of D.C. and greeted not by your new pack, but swathes of CIA agents. Military packs were nothing new, but they wanted to utilize the naturally formed packs and make them stronger and more stable by adding in omegas.

Only highly skilled omegas were considered for the program, but of course you had no say in whether you were going to partake or not. They chose the omegas and they decided where you would end up.

It wasn’t that dissimilar from being chosen from an Institute. At FIOT there was a screening process packs had to go through to be determined eligible to have access to omega files. Then the pack would have to send a neutral emissary, usually a beta, to meet the omegas in person and choose on behalf of the alpha. Most institutes don’t have that strenuous of a process, and some don’t have a process at all. In some, alphas themselves could walk in and choose an omega without even so much as a background check.

Omegas never got a say. As soon as you were handed over to an institute, the ability to choose was taken from you. Whoever your caretakers were as a pup signed over their rights to you and the institute became your legal guardian. They dictated your life up until you joined a new pack.

You had hoped it would be someone rich. If nothing else, you’d get to live a cushy life and you’d never have to worry about anything. When they told you what was really going to happen to you, you had almost cried. You did cry, late at night curled up in your bunk after hours of training and briefings.

Kate picked you for this pack specifically because she knew them and she knew you could handle them and their world.

Maybe if you had been worse at being an omega, things would have been better for you.

Or maybe they would have been worse.

“It’s...different.” You finally say, picking at your sleeves again. “But in a lot of ways, it’s similar to The Institute. It always takes me time to settle somewhere new.”

“Me too.” Dr. Keller says, writing some things down. “And with the time change, it’s just so much harder. I feel like I should be in bed right now, but it’s 8 AM. Have you started nesting?”

You shake your head. “No. I don’t even feel the urge to.”

“That’s fine.” She says, writing something else down. “In truth, I’d be more concerned if you were.”

Your eyebrows raise a bit. “Why?”

“During an adjustment period for an omega, especially in a new pack, there can be something that happens called false instincts. The sudden urge to nest, a drive to bond with pack members too soon, false heats. It’s usually brought on by a sudden change in environment, like when omegas are taken from a place where they’ve spent sometimes years with no exposure to alphas and are suddenly thrown into a space with a lot of alphas. It’s more common in larger packs where you have alphas, betas, and other omegas.”

“Could it happen in smaller packs?” You ask.

“It’s possible, though rare. It can cause some serious issues down the line when those instincts are actually supposed to begin to show up, like adjustment sickness. I’d say if you’re starting to feel the urge to nest or bond before the first week is up, then come talk to me, alright?”

“Yes, ma’am.” You nod.

She smiles, turning the page. “How far have you gotten with the bonding process?”

“Just the scenting yesterday.” You answer.

“And how did that go?”

You pick at the loose thread on your sweatshirt. “Fine. It was...overwhelming.”

“They can be.” Dr. Keller says. “The new members of your pack, how are you getting along with them?”

“Fine, I guess.” You shrug. “I like Soap and Gaz. Price, he’s...he’s nice, and Ghost...” You trail off, not sure how to answer. If she’d asked before breakfast you might have said he doesn't like you. He doesn’t want you to be part of his pack, but after what happened at breakfast...

You can’t be sure he did it for you. He could have thought that soldier was staring at Soap or Gaz or even Price. He could have thought the soldier was staring at him and was annoyed with it. He had scared off the stares at every meal you’d eaten together, but how often did they get stared at? You couldn’t know if that was a daily occurrence and he was just growing sick of it.

He could be annoyed with you because you’re drawing in the stares.

“I don’t know what to think about him yet.” You answer.

She writes something else down, going through a few more questions with you. How is your appetite? How are you sleeping? Are you taking care of your needs? Do you have any concerns?

Before you know it the hour has passed and you’re walking out the door into the fluorescent, sterile hallway of the medical center.

“Remember, you have my number. If you need anything, I’m here for you.” Dr. Keller says as you part ways.

You walk with Price out of the medical center, glad to be out in the fresh air. It’s not particularly warm, and the sun is hidden behind a layer of clouds, but it’s better than the medical center.

“What do you think?” Price asks as you follow him back to the barracks.

“I think it went well.” You say, mind still reeling from an eventful morning. You’re beginning to feel your restless night.

“Do you like Dr. Keller?” He asks, probing a bit.

You nod. “Yes, sir. She’s nice.”

“Good.” He says, opening the door to the barracks for you. “I have to leave to oversee training for the next few hours.” He glances at his watch. “One of us will come get you for lunch.”

You nod. Of course you’d find yourself alone again between meals. You’re beginning to notice a pattern. “Yes, sir.”

His hand is warm as it settles on your shoulder, squeezing gently. You’re surprised by the touch, as small as it is. Were they too fighting the urge to get close to you, like you had this morning?

You can still feel the warmth of his hand even after it’s disappeared and he’s gone. You head for the rec room, deciding to avoid the constricting feeling of being shut in your room for the time being.

The TV is on when you enter, but the room is empty, playing some morning talk show. You move to the bookshelf against the wall, letting your eyes scan the titles. There's a surprising lack of military-based books shoved into the packed shelf. Of course there's a handful of old manuals and handbooks, nothing that you're particularly concerned about needing to read. You let out a sigh, standing on your toes to reach a Brandon Sanderson novel.

You look around the room but the remote for the TV seems to be missing, and it’s too high on the wall for you to reach the power button, so you leave it on, curling up on one corner of the couch as you begin to read.

You’re not sure how much time has passed when something moves in your peripheral. The sun has come out briefly, shining in through the windows. You look up from the book, suddenly feeling very small under Ghost’s gaze. His eyes are narrowed as he stares down at you, a thousand things flashing through your mind. Are you in his spot? Is this his book? Had he come to the rec room hoping to be alone and here you are infringing in his space?

“Come on.” He says, his voice rougher than it had been this morning. “Lunch.”

He’s already turned and heading out the door as you scramble up, leaving the book on the coffee table as you hurry to catch up to him. His steps are quick and wide, and you find yourself having to almost speedwalk to keep up with him.

Your thoughts are jumbled as you follow him out of the barracks and off towards the mess. Why would they send him to get you? Was he the only one available? Yesterday they had time before lunch to return to the barracks, or had that only been because of you? Or were they perhaps hoping this might offer a chance for the two of you to bond a bit?

Or were they entirely blind to Ghost’s disinterest in your existence?

Perhaps they were used to it. After so long together, perhaps they just thought it was normal. If you were brave enough to bring it up, would you get a “oh that’s just how he is” in response?

You can’t see the others as you enter the mess, Ghost leading you to the line. He stands behind you like a hulking shadow, his scent covered by the smell of gunpowder and sweat. You fill your own tray for the first time, grabbing things that look appetizing. You’ll have to get used to it eventually, even though the others insisted on doing it for the time being. When they’re not here, you’ll have to do it yourself.

Ghost leads you to an empty table, and you opt to sit across from him. You begin to eat, taking big bites to avoid the need for conversation, not that you really thought Ghost would strike up a conversation with you. Your eyes flicker around the room nervously, glancing over the entrances time and time again, waiting for the others to arrive.

“Stop twitching. They’re on their way.”

The words cut straight through you and you snap your head around to face Ghost. He’s got his mask pulled up to his nose, your eyes immediately drawn to the exposed pale skin. There’s light stubble on his chin. You remember how that had felt on your own skin when he’d scented you. He’s blonde, you think, or at least has light hair judging by the color of the stubble. There’s a scar on his chin, almost hidden by the stubble.

Your face warms as you realize you’ve been caught in your nervous fretting. Of course, you should have known he would take notice. There’s not a lot they don’t notice, you think. Though, when your survival depends on noticing even the smallest detail of anything or anyone...

You jump as a tray is set down next to yours, your eyes snapping up to see Gaz with a smile on his face. You turn back to look at Ghost, his mask pulled back down but you see a slight shake to his shoulders for a second.

Was he...laughing at you?

Your attention is drawn from him as Gaz takes a seat next to you, sitting close enough his arm is almost brushing yours. Price and Soap taking their usual spots as well. You’re beginning to pick up on the patterns that existed around them, and their own patterns. Perhaps that will make it easier for you to fit yourself into their lives. You knew from the start they weren’t going to change to fit you into their lives. They couldn’t. You were going to have to find a way to fit into their lives.

Gaz walks you back to the barracks after lunch, abnormally quiet as he watches you warily. He walks you to your door, leaning on the doorframe as you step inside.

“You alright?” He asks, big brown eyes shining with worry as he looks you over.

“Yeah.” You nod, shifting on your feet. “Just tired. I think I might take a nap.”

He nods, and you’re sure he doesn't quite believe you, but he doesn’t press any. “Alright. Happy napping.”

You close the door as he leaves, sinking down onto the edge of the bed with a sigh. It’s been a long day and it’s only lunch. Between the probing questions from Dr. Keller and the few minutes you had spent alone with Ghost you feel exhausted. It was good to know you weren’t entirely broken in your lack of nesting instincts, and perhaps your turmoil with belonging in this place wasn’t quite as abnormal as you thought.

What to do about Ghost.

He’s said more words to you today than he did in the entirety of the previous day. In fact, you think today might be the first time he’s spoken to you at all. You know he doesn’t approve of you, and you’d go so far as to say he doesn’t like you. You can imagine he fought the hardest against you being added to the pack. They were fine without you. It didn’t take a genius to see that.

You’re an outsider. A civilian. A risk.

An unneeded disruption to their lives.

You pull your phone out of your pocket, staring at the dark screen. You know Ghost might never accept you. He won’t want to claim you, he won’t mate you, but...perhaps you might just get him to tolerate you.

You unlock your phone, sending a quick text to Kate.

“Can you get a book for me?”

You regret your decision momentarily as you step into the rec room. Gaz and Soap are lounged on the couch, beer bottles open on the coffee table. The TV is playing ads, their attention on each other. You almost feel as if you’re infringing upon a private moment as they laugh, half tempted to race back to your room and hide until your hunger draws you out or someone breaks down the door to get to you.

“Hey!” Gaz’s face lights up when he sees you, Soap turning to look at you.

“Hey, bonny!” His face lights up with a smile.

“Do you mind if I join you?” You ask, shifting nervously on your feet.

“Not at all.” Gaz says, patting the empty spot on the couch next to him. “You want a beer?”

You shake your head. “No thank you. Never could get past the taste.”

Soap throws his head back as he laughs, slapping Gaz’s shoulder. “I keep tellin’ ye!”

“Yet you keep drinking it!” Gaz attempts to defend himself.

“Cause it’s th’ only thing we got!” Soap argues, leaning around Gaz to stare at you. “So, ye a football fan, bonny?”

“Well, I watched the World Cup a couple times as a kid.” You say. “My household was more of an American football and baseball household. Two of my older brothers played soccer, though they never were very serious about it. Mostly just did it to fulfill my dad’s physical activity extracurricular requirement.”

“What did you do to fulfill that requirement?” Gaz asks as he takes a sip of his beer.

“Softball. I was...not good at it.” You laugh. “I could catch and throw, but I don’t think I hit the ball a single time I was at bat.”

Both of them chuckle, turning back to the TV as the ad ends. “Don’t worry, we’ll turn you into a proper football fan yet.” Gaz says.

You watch the game with them, and it doesn’t take you long to realize they’re rooting for opposing teams. They explain things to you here and there in between yelling at the TV and each other. Despite how loud they are, you find yourself relaxing further and further, the tension from the last two days easing away, even as the two betas yell at each other over a soccer game.

Gaz tenses for a second as he feels a sudden weight on his shoulder. He turns his head slightly, noticing you’ve fallen asleep, your head drooping onto his shoulder. His lips quirk up in a smile as he gently nudges Soap.

“Wha?” Soap asks, turning to look at him.

He jerks his head to the side, leaning back just slightly so Soap can see. A grin breaks out on the younger man’s face and he pulls out his phone. “Aww, look a’ that. Think we should wake ‘er and get ‘er tae bed?”

“Nah.” Gaz says. “Let her sleep for now. She probably needs it.”

You sleep soundly through overtime, Gaz not moving until the post game is over, letting you sleep as long as possible. He knows you have to be tired, after the last few days and the time difference. You looked tired today, with dark circles and droopy eyes. He hates to wake you, but he knows you can’t sleep on the couch.

He nudges you gently, trying to rouse you. “Hey.” He nudges you again, your head finally lifting off his shoulder.

You blink sleepily, rubbing at your eyes. You make a quiet sound in protest of being awake, eyes drooping closed again.

“Come on, love.” He says, keeping you upright. “It’s time for bed.”

You cover your yawn with your hand, blinking at him sleepily. “Bed?” You murmur sleepily, Gaz smiling softly at how adorable you are in this state.

“Yeah, you’ll be more comfortable in bed.” He pushes himself to stand, hands on your arms to pull you up.

You make another sound in protest, nearly falling against his chest when he gets you on your feet. He wraps an arm around you, letting you lean on him as he guides you back to bed, Soap cleaning up the mess they had made.

You’re more awake once you get to your door, blinking up at him with bleary eyes. “‘S fun.” You murmur, rubbing your eyes. “Should do that more often.”

“You’re always welcome to join us.” He says. “Get some rest. You’ve had a long week.” He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Night, love.”

He waits until your door is closed before heading back down the hallway towards the rec room, a small smile on his face.

NEXT ->

Taglist:

@bobaprint, @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @hayleybarnesx, @protokosmonaut @fruitymoonbeams-blog, @blue-blue0, @hindi-si-ikay @hanellokey, @thatonepupkai @redwites @kattiieee, @141trash @ghostlythots, @lothiriel9, @dillybuggg, @beebeechaos, @konigsmissedbeltloop, @kaoyamamegami, @thychuvaluswife, @idkkkkkkk8363, @wallwriterstuff, @bisky-business, @smile-child-13, @anomiatartle, @dangerkittenclaws, @bless-my-demons, @mystic60, @evolutionarry, @red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff, @cadotoast, @linaangel, @rancid-wasp, @codsunshine, @thriving-n-jiving, @slayerx147, @ferns-fics

(If you'd like to join the taglist, let me know!)

#call of duty #call of duty fanfic #141 x reader #task force 141 x reader #poly 141 #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #captain price x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #a/b/o #alpha beta omega dynamics

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loganlermanstanaccount · 2 years ago

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Show me where it hurts (part 1)

Miguel O'Hara x spiderwoman!reader

(AO3 Mirror), Part 2, Main Masterlist

summary: Miguel's acting weird, and you make it your mission to find out exactly what's going on.

warnings: no warnings for this chap, pg-13, swearing and canon level violence. smut next chapter xoxo

a/n: this is a combination of 2 asks and this post I saw on here a while ago: flirty/ snarky fem reader, Miguel during a ""rut"" (I don't know if it counts as a rut really, but its to do with his animal instincts/DNA) and Lyla playing matchmaker. I had so much fun writing this, enjoy :D

(i wrote this pre seeing spiderverse 2, so i think characterisation is a little off, esp for Lyla, apologies! I'll fix it in my upcoming fics)

edit: I use the term "bichita" which I have been informed can be read not as I intended in Spanish. I'm not a native speaker so I want to apologise in advance. I'm doing more research for my future fics and leaving this up as a testament to my stupidity. Spanish speakers, feel free to correct me / clown my ass in the comments. My bad guys :(

wc: 3.6k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You think Miguel is avoiding you.

One of your closest friends, giving you the runaround for months, it seems. Calling the two of you close friends is a little extreme, sure. You've only known O'Hara for two years, and been in love with him for slightly less than that, thank you very much. And yes, he refuses to call you by anything but your last name. And the last time you saw him he wouldn't so much as look at you, but that was besides the point.

"..the point," You tell Lyla, in between exasperated bites of cereal, "... is that aren't elite forces of spiderpeople supposed to, you know, have some spiderpeople kick ass once in a while? And where exactly is our fearless leader? I haven't seen O'Hara's scary ass in weeks, and I'm starting to miss it."

She gives you a look, one that says this isn't what I'm programmed for , but you pointedly ignore it.

"His ass, by the way." You clarify. "I very specifically miss his ass. Remind me to get his routine. I know girls that would kill for…"

"How the fuck did you get in here?" A voice croaks. You turn behind you and see Miguel, not in his suit, but wrapped up in a blanket like he's just woken up. And he looks rough, like a train ran him over on the way here: puffy eyes, splotchy skin, tension kneaded into his brow.

"Wow." Your spoon drops into the milk. "You look like shit.."

He furrows his brow even deeper, if that was possible. " Mierda. You shouldn't be here."

"This isn't quite the welcome party I was expecting, man. I'm the only one to actually turn up to one of your meetings, and this is what I get?"

"I thought I told Lyla to cancel," He mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Cancel? Since when do you miss a chance to talk about rules and protocol?"

"I don't have time for this-"

"-and I'm not leaving without a proper explanation. Is everything okay?"

"It's actually way worse now you're here." He deadpans.

"Haha ." You turn to Lyla. "You drop everything to travel halfway across the multiverse and this asshole won't even say thanks."

"Thanks, but this asshole needs you to leave. Now."

This is the most he's spoken to you in forever, and you hate that you like it. You just want his attention, however it comes. If that means dragging this out so maybe he acknowledges you, touches you, looks at you - then so be it. Squinting, you get closer to him. You scan his face for anything to latch onto. You put a hand on his shoulder, still searching.

"You sure you're alright? You know you can tell me if-"

"Si, si." He grits his teeth, looking away. "M'just fine. I'll explain…. later."

"...because I'm your right hand man?" You grin, poking at his brow. "Stop frowning so much Miguel, you're gonna ruin that pretty face of yours."

He flushes, nervous, and swats you away. "-what? N-No. You're not my right hand man and I like my face just the way it is. Now, leave. "

Making your way to the door, you tap your nose teasingly. "You know where to find me!"

When the door closes with a click, you make your way down the corridor, and stop in your tracks when you hear it. It's muffled, but with the strain of your supersenses you can make out Miguel's voice just beyond the wall.

"I just…. don't want her to see me like this… Lyla, it's not happening… I can't tell her…." Tell her what, exactly?

Resolutely, you make up your mind. Miguel O'Hara's got a secret. And before you leave for home, you're gonna do everything in your God given power to wear him down and find out.

~~~

Despite his insistence otherwise, you liked to think of yourself as O'Hara's right hand man - and most of the other spiderpeople thought so too. You were one of the very first he recruited, after crash landing onto your earth like a spiderman-shaped meteor; the two of you were inseparable. Miguel was stubborn and headstrong and thought he was right all the time. Infuriatingly, he was, but that didn't stop you from telling him to get his head out of his own ass when his ego grew too big.

He was different around you, you think. Softer, sometimes. Harsher, other times. He told you what you needed to hear whether you wanted to or not; the result of mutual respect and agonising persistence. Slowly, you had chipped away his hard exterior; the one he built because he thought he needed to push people away. In that regard, you were similar, but this need manifested in you like a weed - an awful, awful compulsion to joke and laugh at your own expense, to keep others at an arm's length. You had spent your whole life picking and pruning away at yourself, looking for perfection. Even after all this, multiverse-hopping and fighting alongside people who were the closest things you had to friends , it wasn't enough. There was still something missing.

Ironically, Miguel had told you something similar the one of the last times you had spoken. You had fucked up a mission, well and truly. In the aftermath, all you can remember is coming back to base, limping on Jessica's arm.

"She's hurt!" She cries out. Lyla materialises and leads you both to the med bay, inspecting any visible wounds. There's a deep laceration, sticky with blood, at the base of your stomach. You shift onto the bed and hiss with pain.

Miguel is quick to follow, face twisted with confusion, pain, sadness. Even in your haze, you feel the tension radiating off of him as he drags over a cart of supplies.

"What happened?" He strains.

"I don't even… it happened so fast. We got ambushed, and all of a sudden I'm on the ground. I wasn't thinking straight and… " She sobs. "...she jumped in front of me. God, she saved my life-"

"-wasn't your fault, Jess." You croak, trying to sit up. "And I'm fine. Just need to walk it off…"

"Sit, bichita," His nickname makes you frown, despite yourself, and you settle back down. "Lyla, what's the damage?"

Your vision goes spotty, and Lyla's voice barely registers. All you can feel is searing pain in your side, but Miguel is warm, oh so warm. You clutch his arms, and force him to look you in the eye.

"M'ready, Miguel." He nods weakly, but you don't think he understands. "I mean it . I can lead, j-just need another chance and I won't let you down… Jess, tell him that I can-"

"It's okay. I believe you. You just need to relax for me, hmm?" He clutches at your hand, tight, and it's like you're the only two people in the world. "You did good. I promise."

Faintly, you nod. You feel a pinch at your arm, and Jessica's there, with an empty vial of something in her hands. The pain washes over you, and you fight to keep your eyes open. In those last few moments of light, you swear you feel a shaky kiss pressed to your temple.

"Sleep, mi bichito amoroso. Sleep."

When you come to, you're still in the medbay, moonlight streaming through. Well, artificial moonlight. Time worked a little differently here, something Miguel explained to you a while ago - God knows what about dilation and quantum interference. It makes you smile now, remembering his frustration as he tried to explain to no avail. You were the only spiderman this side of the multiverse without a degree in quantum tech, you had said with a lopsided smile.

You move to sit, and pain shoots up your side. Groaning, you push through it, determined to get out of this bed and find the others. As if on cue, Miguel walks in, almost leaping towards you.

"You should… mierda ! You should be resting in bed."

You pout as you stumble into his chest. He hooks an arm around you and leads you back. You clamber in, sighing. "M'fine, O'Hara."

"Your guts were halfway out of your body less than 24 hours ago. So stay put, or you might give me another heart attack."

You scoff, incredulous. "You were worried?"

He shrugs. " 'Course I was."

"Why? You know I'm practically indestructible." You give him a shit eating grin, and poke the frown appearing at his brow. He doesn't bat you away like he usually does.

"Famous last words, bichita." He sighs. You can't speak a lick of Spanish, but you know he only calls you that word when you've frustrated him to his limit. So you take it as a win, for now.

He drops into the chair next to you. "How are you feeling?"

"Just peachy, dollface." You wink, and he doesn't so much as groan.

"I'm being serious. You went through something pretty traumatic…"

"You want me to tell you it hurts, so, so bad, daddy? " You pout and flutter your eyelashes mockingly. Miguel shifts in his seat, unable to make eye contact.

"That's not what I meant."

"What did you mean, O'Hara? I feel fine. And in a couple of days, I'll feel even better, and I'll be up and about. I can finish what we started and-"

"-no, absolutely not." He frowns. "A couple of days? I'm sending you home-"

"You can't do that! On whose fucking authority?"

"On the authority of you almost fucking died ! Keeping you safe is our priority right now-"

"God, is this my punishment? This is a low blow, O'Hara. You know how hard I've worked for this: months of surveillance and intel a-and I did everything by the book, just like you told me to." You croak. "I fucked up . I know that, and I feel terrible. Give me a chance to make things right; that's all I'm asking. I can do it, I know it. "

He looks at you for a moment, something heavy in his expression. His face contorted, he strips you down to the bone with just his gaze. His voice is so quiet, you almost miss it.

"....you're still trying to prove yourself, aren't you?"

Honestly, it catches you off guard. You don't even know what the fuck that means, let alone why he said it.

"I don't… I d-don't…?"

"They all love you. Respect you. More than me I think, sometimes." He chuckles at that. "You're good at what you do. The best . What else are you trying to prove? What else do you need ?"

Your throat goes dry. You couldn't speak if you wanted to.

"I'm not punishing you. You made a mistake, but you don't need to be crucified for it. I just want to keep you safe. I can't… we can't lose you."

"Miguel-"

"-this isn't a discussion. And I'm not trying to argue, although I know how much you like to argue." He inches closer, cupping your face gently. You try to move away, blinking back tears. But his hands are steady and he strokes your jaw with so much tenderness you think you hear your heart break. He's pretty, so pretty. You don't deserve him, you think. "There'll be time to fight, bichita. Rest. That's your mission right now."

"C-can't sleep." You breathe. "It hurts."

Miguel pauses, head tilted like he's thinking. He taps your shoulder. "Scoot over."

You do as he says, and he slips into the bed with you. It's a tight fit, but he manages, placing you on his chest with an arm gently around your shoulders. You bury your face in his hoodie, sniffling and hoping he doesn't notice you choking back sobs. Absentmindedly, he settles into a rhythm, gentle breathing and playing with your hair, soothing you softly. He pretends he can't hear the tears.

"M'gonna stay here until you're asleep. For as long as you need."

You nod, unable to speak for fear of breaking down.

~~~

The days after felt like a blur. You woke up to Miguel gone, and an ache in your heart. Jess visits as much as she can, and Ben calls you a couple times, to see if you're okay. Peter B brings Mayday, and she clambers all over your bed, bringing some life into the room. Miguel doesn't visit per se - you hear whispers of him, Lyla visiting in his stead for comprehensive status updates. Once, you wake up in the night to see him on the adjacent chair, head lolling in deep sleep. He looks peaceful, calm - one of the first times you haven't seen his brow furrowed with worry. Of course, he's gone by the morning.

The very last time you saw him, he opened the portal home. It was weird, after everything, but if Miguel felt the same you wouldn't know. Talking at a thousand miles a minute, he alternates between assuring you they'll be fine without you and situation reports from spider people all across the multiverse. Things you'd missed whilst bedbound, asking for advice before you left. He trusted your judgement and the thought warmed your heart, almost making you forget that he completely brushed past the previous nights before.

You still remember the last thing he had said to you, which would've been weeks ago, now.

"...and if you need anything, and I mean anything, you call me directly. Not Jess, not Ben, and certainly not Peter B. Call me, and I'll answer, I promise. You need help, you need advice, you just need someone to talk to, then-"

"-I call you. I get it, O'Hara. Will do." He opens the portal, watching as you walk towards it. He can't take his eyes off of you, even though you can't see him. At the last moment you turn, and run towards him. You almost knock him over with a hug. Burying his head in the crook of your shoulder, he hugs you back, ever careful of your injury. Separating, your smile almost knocks him over again. Weakly, he smiles back as you head through the portal, back home.

You're left with that feeling, of his arms around your body - warm, so warm - as you putter about by the switchboard. After careful deliberation (you were really, really bored ) you'd taken to manage the Multi Modal Multiversal Switchboard - as aptly named by Miguel. Everyone else called it the Big Red Phone of course, but he had insisted on calling it by its proper name . Every. Time.

The thought makes you chuckle as you call up Peter B. His icon flashes on the screen in front of you. With a click, he picks up the call, his face materialising holographically in front you. A little hand reaches up and tugs at his ear.

"Ow… ouch … Dad's on the phone, honey."

"Aww! How's my favourite Parker doing?"

"Not bad, actually! MJ just made us probably the best burger this side of New York-"

"-sorry, Peter? Me and May are trying to have a conversation." You hear her giggle in the background. Her gap toothed grin pops into frame and she babbles excitedly. "...yeah, exactly May. That's literally what I said."

"Okay, okay, that's enough." He puts the toddler down and watches her scurry away. "You're feeling better, I see."

"Yeah, back in action. Thought I'd check in."

"All good here." He squints, trying to take in your surroundings. "You're at HQ?"

You hum.

"Could've sworn Lyla cancelled…"

"Yeah, didn't get the memo. But I think something's wrong with O'Hara."

He gives you a weird look. "Uhhh, what makes you think that?"

"He won't even look at me. Was it something I said? Something I did?" Your eyes narrow. "...what do you know, Peter?"

"Nothing! Absolutely nothing!" He scoffs, a little too quickly, clutching his chest like you've offended him. He's stared down some of the scariest villains around, but the look you give him is truly chilling. "Just… uhhh. You didn't hear this from me."

"Naturally…"

"We tracked 'em down, the guys that ambushed you and Jessica."

"The Sinister Six? From Earth-215?"

"Yeah, but by the time we got there, it was just Kraven and some of his goons. Miguel got there first, and…." He gulps. "He was pissed. Trashed the whole place looking for the rest of 'em. Beat Kraven half to death and we had to pull him off."

"Shit."

"Yeah, it was pretty rough. Never seen him like that before. And just generally? He'd been weirdly quiet, a little grumpy, more aggressive on missions. I don't know what's gotten into him."

"Hmmm. Thanks, Pete."

"No problem, sweetheart. And if the big guy asks… "

"...this didn't come from you, I know." Weakly, you smile. "Say hi to my favourite Parkers, for me."

" 'Course I will. We should celebrate, if you're back officially. Mine and MJ's is always open."

"Good to know. I'll see you around."

He waves goodbye, and the hologram clicks off. Sighing, you try to piece together what you've just heard.

Miguel: acting weird. Well, you knew that already. Aggressive was new. And Lyla? She had canceled, but not for you, for some reason. An honest mistake, perhaps. But Lyla doesn't make mistakes…

You stew for a couple of hours, puttering about the switchboard, twiddling your thumbs. Something's wrong, and for some reason you're afraid to see him. To have him look straight through you, again, when you ask to do the same. Show me where it hurts. Tell me how to make it better.

On the way there, you chew your lip in anticipation. In the corridor, you're outside the door to his place, hand hovering above the door. To knock, to call. In the harsh fluorescent light, you hesitate.

"Lyla?" Nervously, you sink down onto the floor. It's hard to explain, but you don't expect her to actually come; to materialise in front of you.

"How can I assist you?" She says with a ding.

"Uhh… hi. Just wanted to talk." You pause, clicking your tongue. "Can you be honest with me?"

"I can only be honest with you. It is not in my programming to lie, unless specified by my owner."

"Sure. Cool. It's about him, actually. Is Miguel okay?"

She tilts her head, as if processing your request. "Okay is a subjective term. Is Mr O'Hara alive? Yes. Is Mr O'Hara physically well? Yes. By those terms, he is okay ."

Too vague for your own liking. "I guess I meant more… his emotional state. To the best of your knowledge… in your opinion , Lyla: is Miguel okay?"

"...I believe Mr O'Hara is experiencing some emotional turmoil."

You frown. "Oh. Do you know why?"

"Mr O'Hara has instructed me not to disclose that information with you."

"Fair enough. But you don't have to tell me… I could just ask questions?"

She nods. "There is nothing in my programming that prevents me from answering some questions within certain parameters."

"Did I do something? Not just today but… last time I was here. Did I say something to hurt or upset him? Is that why he's acting weird?"

"No." She says blankly. "And yes. I suppose it is… complicated." She gestures around that word.

"I'm a little confused, Lyla."

She sits next to you, on the cool tile. Not that she could feel it, but it feels more intimate - like two friends talking. The extent of Lyla's consciousness, you weren't sure of. Was she alive? To you, she might as well be. Could she think, feel, emote? Maybe, maybe not. You weren't smart enough to understand the nuances of her programming. But you were human enough to see it in her - something glittering beyond the surface.

It could be projection, but you swear her voice is softer. "He has a name for you. When he speaks about you, and to you. I have it logged in my memory database. Do you know what that is?" You shake your head.

Lyla opens up her palm and projects videos and images - little Miguel's popping up in her palm, tinny and gruff voices ringing through the hallway. They say your name, shout your name, whisper it. Some say other things in Spanish. Curse words had always been your assumption, and he had given you no reason to think otherwise. Now, having it played back to you, you hear a tenderness in his voice you would've missed. Words and phrases that come up again and again…

"Bichita." She repeats. "Bichito del amor. Mi bichito amoroso. "

You shake your head, still confounded. "...I don't speak Spanish, Lyla."

"Little bug. Sweetheart. Lovebug. My little lovebug." She clears her throat. "I believe they are terms of endearment."

Steadfast, she directs you towards her palm. Another small Miguel appears, and you think it's him from this morning.

"I thought I told you not to let anyone in, Lyla?"

"I did not let her in. She let herself in using the code you previously gave her, Mr O'Hara."

"Yeah, for emergencies. Fuck. Mi bichita, too smart for her own good."

"...If you are in distress, I believe she would understand, Mr O'Hara."

"I just think it's too much. I don't want her to see me like this."

"According to Alchemax files, previous subjects showing this kind of aggression benefitted from-"

"Lyla, it's not happening, no chance. I can't tell her."

The figure blinks out of her palm. "Mr O'Hara has forbid me from telling you about certain things."

"...but not from showing me." Your eyes meet hers. You give her a watery smile. "Thank you."

With a hint of a smile, she nods and is gone from the corridor. You are left alone, with nothing but your thoughts of little lovebugs rattling around in your brain.

#miguel o hara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #across the spiderverse #kat_writes😼#this gif is fucking crazy btw

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mygnolia · 10 months ago

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it’s cupid, stupid! | lhs

୨୧ SYNOPSIS -› To hell with Lee Heeseung, you couldn't find someone you hated more than the boy who's by your side no matter what. You figured that maybe the summer before university would be the best way to finally let go of him, and to leave the hate you have in your childhood- but no. What do you mean you have to spend ALL summer with him?

୨୧ PAIR -› golden boy!heeseung x fem-pres!reader

୨୧ GENRE -› fluff, pining, hurt/angst, slow burn (oops), bakery au, summer au, post highschool au | ୨୧ TROPES -› (slightly one sided) enemies to lovers, rivals to lovers | ୨୧ WC -› 20k (jfc)

୨୧ INCLUDES -› CURSING, food mentions, a self indulgent characterization of my grandmother but she’s also everyone else’s in this fic, the bakery has foods from like 40 different cultures, both mc and hee get burned but it’s tiny, heeseung’s parents r lowk overachieving assholes this is NOT a reflection of anyone irl, ew so much banter, heeseung and mc drink from the same straw ik that’s an ick for some LOL, underaged alcohol consumption (and being drunk)…sorry

୨୧ REN SAYS... thank u thank u thank u peng aka @jlheon for beta reading this in one sitting for me!!! your comments were so cute i'm so glad you enjoyed reading it <3

plsplsplspls reblog and send feedback/asks if you liked this!

Lee Heeseung might only have eleven characters to his name, but they spelt trouble in forty different ways.

It starts with the same old Lee Heeseung spilling his applesauce on you in the first grade, with his cup of mushy lukewarm grossness splattered across your new pants with glittery stars on them. You shriek when it happens, frantically wiping off the mess and yelling at his Lightning McQueen lunchbox with all of the bottled up rage a six year old can have. His eyes are wide, but all his friends laugh and say girls are so angry all the time, so he stops himself from apologizing. Which, you think his friends were being a little rude to all girls alike, but what mattered was that Lee Heeseung never ended up saying sorry.

But that’s just one way of spelling it. He hit you in the face with a ball, ran into you when your knee was scraped and you almost were bursting into tears, and tripped you in the lunch line.

Did the universe hate you, or did he?

You figured it was the latter.

Heeseung’s been stuck to you your entire life with some extra strong adhesive that you can’t seem to get off. You wish you could get some of the same glue that stuck you two to the hip and attach his tongue to the nearest streetlight, but things almost never worked in your favor. If you could catch him, just once, like one of the dumb boys who lick frozen poles in winter, you’d be satisfied.

The blackmail would trump any sort of Heeseung related adversity your elementary grade self had to deal with.

Unfortunately, the years have rendered you no protection against him, and in the small victories you find yourself in, you also see Heeseung right next to you. The exam you aced was topped by Heeseung with a 98%, just a bit higher than your 96%, and it couldn’t even feel good to talk about it because you knew all your friends talked about was how he did the best. Better than you.

There was no accomplishment anymore when Heeseung was around.

Heeseung was perfect in everyone’s eyes, a golden boy in their praises and a role model for their parents. If people didn’t want to be with Lee Heeseung, people wanted to be Lee Heeseung. That? That was something you hated. How could people want to be someone who you couldn’t stand?

Summer is a new slate- a very humid new beginning for you to get away from people at school and hang out with only your closest of friends and to ghost any new message you get. That is, if you choose to. Or, you could have an objectively more “hot girl summer” where you go to pools and post pictures on social media and talk about strangers on the internet. Unfortunately, none of those things seemed to be a viable option, with your friends in different countries and in cute swimsuits. Your visits to your grandmother had been so pushed back with all of the finals on top of exams and end of the year festivities that it had been a while since you last saw her. Spending time with her this summer was your number one priority- your friends could wait a few weeks to hang out again.

You spend your first Saturday at her house making pastries with oddly reminiscent spices and a sprinkle of your childhood within every slice. If there’s one person you can trust to stay the same, it’s your dear grandma, with her decade old recipes and hard to find ingredients that she sometimes makes you go on a manhunt for. It’s endearing in a way to know that her cooking will never change, and maybe it’s the reason you make an effort to visit when you can. You love your grandma, and you always have, because she’s the only true constant in a world that’s constantly changing.

You’ve made a feast by the time the sun barely peeks from the edge of the ground. You’ve measured countless spoons of sauces and powdery substances that all look the same and you're surprised the sauce you burned still tastes good. She’s finished setting up the table, and you two can finally dig into your favorite authentic cooking. Even if you see her quite frequently, she doesn’t always cook. Sometimes it’s leftovers, sometimes it’s take-out. But today was different.

After you’ve both finished, your grandma hands you plastic wrapped dishes filled with mere fractions of what you two have made. She tells you to go to the Lee’s down the road, and your eyes narrow slightly. Lee is also the last name of Heeseung. So, what would be the odds it was him?

Not likely. Heeseung would think he’s too cool to live in an area like this. His parents are probably minted- and if not loaded, then well off.

Well, you were 100% wrong! Lee Heeseung does seem to live here, and you will admit the porcelain figures of calico cats in the dark as shapeless silhouettes were a little frightening at first. Your grandma washed away your previous concerns with a “Of course they’ll be home! Heeseung always answers the door for me.” and pushes you out of the house to deliver the two boxes of leftovers that smell delectable. If you weren’t so full, you’d just take a different route and have it for yourself.

You can hear the ‘it’s our neighbor!’ And a pair of footsteps tumbling down the carpeted stairs to answer the doorbell.

Lee fucking Heeseung in his sock and pajama clad glory. How punchable he looked in this very moment, with his warm brown dyed hair and white t-shirt.

“I have leftovers. For your family.” His widened eyes immediately go back to their normal state, and he reaches out to meet your offering halfway.

“You live here?” He asks, in a calm, civil manner that you don’t think you’ve ever seen with him.

“Grandma does- I’m just her errand…runner.” You respond, in a not so smooth way. You wince internally at how choppy your words come out, but make no further effort to fix it. By now, it’s Heeseung who’s holding the styrofoam boxes. Your job is done. “Do you live here?”

He nods solemnly, a smile filled with a smidgen of pride dusted across his features. He loves this house- Heeseung’s been in it his entire life, and it’s obvious the memories that have stayed with him since childhood make him far from ashamed to say it’s where he’s grown up all these years. But you? Could you say the same thing about the simple abode you went home to everyday?

Maybe not. Another reason why Heeseung had it perfect, and another reason to resent him.

You sighed to ease the tension that had condensed between the two of you. His mom wondered what took him so long, and he wondered the same question.

Before you’re about to turn away, he blurts, “Thanks for the food.” You turn around, nodding a silent ‘of course,’ and walking away.

At that very moment, there was no reason to hate Lee Heeseung. But as you walked away and back to your house, you hated the calico cats and the gate you entered through the house he went back inside to.

The nostalgic board game high with your grandma does not last for long. As if the universe needed another reason to hate you, the unfortunate truth was that there was always more in store when you were subjected to a bad day, a bad week, or even a case of bad luck. You come back to the mahogany door to terrible news- your grandmother is sick. You rush out of her house the same day with the names of medicinal cures scribbled on a notecard and an urgency in your step. You buy her enough to last for the next few lifetimes, but it doesn’t matter. Anything healthy you could find in the fresh food aisle, you put in your cart, and when you came home, she was already up and sweeping the cold floors with a cough threatening to overwhelm her.

Sometimes, you wish she didn’t overwork herself. You gently coerce her into laying on the couch, taking some of the medicine you got with a cup of warm water to ease her throat. She says nothing and you expect nothing in return for the last minute shopping you’ve done, but her eyes hold a sincere thankfulness that you know she will never speak aloud. When she’s retired to her bed, you finish unpacking the groceries and complete the mental task of chores your grandma would’ve exerted herself to finish independently. When you’ve finished, your hands are dry with soap and cleaning products, and your arms ache from the mopping, but the house is clean, and your grandma is sleeping well in the other room. You turn off the tv with one of her shows and switch off the light, heading back to your room and changing out of your clothes. By the time you crawl into your bed and charge your phone, the moon is the last thing you remember seeing before you fall asleep.

Monday comes unexpectedly, despite time still being on its course. You find yourself flipping through the cookbooks that littered the walls in your grandmother’s room, and in turn, the absolute urge to busy yourself in her passions manifested in the impulsive decision to work at her bakery.

“Could- could I go work in the shop?”

At first, her rejection was through scowls and furrowed eyebrows wondering why someone like you would want to fill their youthful summer days dusting surfaces with flour and kneading doughs instead of living the dream and swimming in turquoise waters. Her second rejection is easier to register. “I already have Hee helping me.” She states plainly, excusing the idea of two people in one room to run her business. Your nose scrunches up, and the temperature of your blood increases tenfold.

“Heeseung,” she clarifies, with almost too much enthusiasm. “He’s in your grade. Goes to your school, too.” She smiles, brushing a section of hair behind your ear and examining the imperfections on your skin. You frown, the obvious displeasure plastered on your features. It’s not hard to notice you don’t like what she just told you. “You don’t like him?”

“It’s whatever.” You tell her, shrugging away from her gaze and shrinking in on yourself. “I don’t care much for him.”

What a lie! “It seems like you don’t like him.” She comments.

Of course you don’t like him. Heeseung is stuck up, arrogant, and looks past people like you- people who just aren’t as perfect as him. “I mean, why can’t I help you? Shouldn’t Heeseung….rest for the summer?”

“It’s fine- he’s helped me out multiple times anyways.” She concludes, closing the book she was reading previously. “I wouldn’t mind you coming down to help, I’m sure 17 year olds like you and Hee can run things by yourself.” You raise an eyebrow at both of your names mentioned, but don’t speak out against her.

You can run it by yourself, but you won’t, simply because your grandmother seems to have an affinity for some boy you just happen to hate. Plus, if Heeseung messes up, you get all the triple chocolate cake to yourself, so you’ll pray on his downfall until then.

Wednesday morning is when you head over to the bakery, at a much earlier time than usual. The business doesn’t open until at least an hour later, and you spend the time preparing the mixing stands and covering the sweet rolls to be baked in a light sheen of oil. When the sun shines more vibrantly in the morning sky, and the cars honk at the traffic, a ruffled head of hair enters the building, and you’re very worried that you might’ve forgotten to lock the doors. “Sorry, we’re closed!” You yell out, but Lee Heeseung’s tuft of tinted hair is already in your vicinity.

“The real question would be why you’re here, Miss _____.” He glances towards you, curiosity glazing his eyes over. You immediately scowl at his slightly teasing tone, one that could feel even condescending if he pushed that boundary just a bit more. Lee Heeseung might objectively be better than you in the eyes of an average high schooler, but frankly, you were just the same, and he had no right to sound that amused when you woke up and came here first. It’s 8:03am, and you already found just one more reason to hate him.

You roll your eyes, knowing that with your back turned to him, he wouldn’t notice the obvious displeasure. “I can’t help out my grandma?”

It’s so quiet in the place that you hear him suck on a breath behind you. “She’s your grandma?”

“Did you not remember when I dropped off the food? Oh right, you probably wouldn’t spend your time on something so…,” you pause, racking your brain for a word you think he would use. “‘insignificant.’”

Rustling. He takes a bowl and a carton of eggs. “Don’t put words in my mouth. Sorry, it’s just so difficult to believe you’re related to her.” Were you really that detached from your culture, or was Heeseung just mean?

Lee Heeseung’s words get right under your skin, and it makes you see red. You frown in his direction, disregarding his words and moving on with your day. “Yeah, my grandma is nice, I just don’t know why she thinks you’re a saint.”

“She thinks I’m a saint?” And you see something for the first time, something that’s akin to stars in his eyes, and the corner of his lips turn in satisfaction. He doesn’t even comment on how you’ve let it slip that you’re jealous of their relationship.

“Maybe in your dreams.”

“You just said-“

You feel like two cats about the fight behind a dumpster, before the door jingles, and someone walks into your conversation with Heeseung.

“Sorry, is the shop not-?”

You rush to the counter before Heeseung does, counting it as a mental victory to take the first order.

“It is! What would you like?” It’s something else you can tell your grandma when you get home- that you’ve been starting off all the work in the bakery, and you’re ‘not sure what Heeseung really does.’

The professionalism masks the irritation on his features, and you would’ve killed to see Lee Heeseung’s frown once more.

When the customer is done telling you his order, you make sure he gets everything he needs, fully satisfied before the ring of the door is heard once more during his departure. The corner of your lip turns up into a grin, victorious as you childishly tease your co-worker.

“I’m going to do the most around here, and I don’t need your pretty face getting in the way of things.”

While he denies the rest, Heeseung doesn’t quite ignore what you said about his features.

When noon has passed, but the sun still glares down on everyone outside, you work just as hard as the white ceiling fan providing cool air for everyone inside. You work in silence, with a playlist filling the air and adding to the ambience, as you listen to your own music through your headphones. Heeseung works without interacting with you more than what needs to be done, and rarely asks for help. He doesn’t let people down; if anything, he exceeds their expectations, but never yours. It’s been like this since the beginning, and you’re convinced it’s something personal- some wrangle ever since you two learned what cooties were that lasted until now.

“____,” He starts, turning to you. You glance at him, waiting for the boy to continue. “Can you make the brown sugar milk tea- it’s on the-“

“I know where it is.” You snip.

Heeseung makes the right choice (in your opinion) to say nothing as you proceed to grab a cup and open the container of boba pearls. After you’ve taken a few orders, you move to the back of the bakery to pull the tray of matcha sheet cake onto the counter to cool.

“Have you seen the scissors?” Heeseung asks out of nowhere, startling you from the doorway.

Reaching for the ones you used to cut the parchment paper with, you hand the pair to him and with a mumbled ‘thank you,’ he makes his leave.

In an odd way, you’re stunned by the silence that follows. A “you suck, _____!” would be more in character for villainous Lee Heeseung than whatever just happened. But you’re way too occupied with the bakery, and go back to cutting squares in the matcha cake.

It’s the same for the next hour until the rush ends and you get a bit more time to yourselves between orders. Heeseung agrees to wash the dishes and you clean the tables to the sound of your playlist from the speakers.

“You have good music taste.” Is the first thing that comes out of his mouth when he emerges. He wipes his hand on a white towel and you stare at him, utterly puzzled. Where’s the malice? Where’s his snarky comments?

“I’m waiting for you to tell me it’s not as good as yours, or something along those lines.” You deadpan.

Heeseung rolls his eyes. “I’m not that mean, I can give a compliment or two when I feel like it.”

“Oh, poor Lee Heeseung only has so much room in his heart to compliment people. How thankful should I be that you spend your daily supply of niceness on me?” You snap, cleaning off the tables. Your chest feels light and you don’t feel as angry as you did this morning, finding your digs to be more playful that serious

Blame it on the lack of sleep.

“I think you should be bowing down to me and only talking when I tell you to.” He jokes, and when you glance up, there’s a semblance of a smile on his face. “Anyways, when are you leaving?”

“Whenever you leave.” You tell him, shrugging.

“Your grandma said she didn’t want you to stay too late but she also wanted me to take you home, and I think she’d throw a fit if you didn’t. You were dropped off this morning, right?”

“I’d die before getting into a car with you, Lee Heeseung.”

“If I had to get into a car with you, that’s probably how I’d die.” He responds lightly. You furrow your eyebrows and rack your brain for some sort of retort that hurts Heeseung’s pride, but nothing comes up.

“My driving skills are very good, I’ll have you know.”

He jabs, “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

“How about, next time you come, you leave with your bumper falling off? Some bad driving, yeah?”

Heeseung could start feeling dizzy if his eyes continue to roll around in his skull. “Sure, we’ll see what your insurance has to say about that.”

The aroma of vanilla slips through the air, and momentarily distracts you as you make haste to get it from the ringing oven. Unfortunately, your enthusiasm spills over the rim, and when reaching inside, you feel the burn of the sheet cake as you leave it on the iron rack to cool. Heeseung doesn’t tear his eyes from the way you jump back, squeezing the tender skin between your fingers as you blow on it in puffs.

“Are you okay? Here-“ He reaches for your hand, but gentle. “Let me see that.” Heeseung soothes the slight pain with his thumb running over the burn, and his breath cooling it down slowly.

“I’m fine.” You tell him, slowly pulling your finger away. His gaze snaps back up at you, and you feel your disdain for him dwindle ever so slightly. Maybe the Heeseung that rushed to make sure you were okay isn’t so bad.

“Right. You’ll be fine.” And he doesn’t know if it’s something he tells himself, or if he’s telling you, when he goes to get some ointment.

“A grad party? With Heeseung? Invited?”

You can’t see him, but you almost hear Sunoo’s pout from the line. “Yeah, I don’t even know why you two fight anyways.”

You huff, laying back down on your bed after Sunoo’s confession made you shoot up in surprise. “Have you seen him? He’s the most stuck-up annoying person ever.”

Your friend hums. “To be honest, I don’t think you really know him.”

“I know him plenty. And there’s nothing good about him, like, ever!”

“You barely even talk to him, ____.” The last week proves differently, but you bite your tongue.

“I talk to him enough!” You’d defend yourself until the end of the earth. “He’s just…always around me- not like I even want him to, or he’s always hanging out with my friends, or-“

“Our friends.”

“Well, not really.” You think hard. “They’re only friends because you and I are friends, so I’m friends with Heeseung in a distant obligatory way. And I need to keep it that way by not coming to this party.”

“Come on!” Sunoo whines from the phone, and you laugh at his antics. “It’s a grad party, you’ll be too busy talking with everyone else to care anyways.”

“Well, maybe for a bit.”

“When’s the next time we’ll even be able to see each other anyways? Considering all of this college stuff.”

You break his facade. “We’re literally going swimming in two weeks from now.” Sunoo laughs. “No, ____. Swimming is different from eating snacks and playing dumb board games.”

He’s right, and you admit that it’ll be fun for something once last time.

Maybe Heeseung won’t even show up.

The next day at the bakery, you rush to ask him, almost too eager to know his answer. “Are you going to Sunoo’s party?” Please say no please please please-

“Of course. I’m his friend. You weren’t invited, or something?” His tone makes you want to light a fire on his head.

“I’m his friend, too. I was the first person he talked to about it, so of course I was invited, and of course I’m going.” You say it as if the boy in front of you didn’t make you single handedly question your attendance last night. You say it like your demeanor never faltered, not even once. You say it like Heeseung had no say in the decision.

Because he definitely didn’t.

“I’ll see you there, then.” He smiles at you, a glint of evil in his eyes as he gauges your reaction. You return his scheming grin, frosting a slice of cake before walking out and calling the order number. When Heeseung emerges from the paper white curtains, he sees you engrossed in helping a customer pick out a few of the best options for ‘something not so sweet.’

When you’re done, you turn around to take a sip of your iced tea. “Really?” He starts, stirring some milk into a swirling shot of espresso. “The red bean cake is your definition of not too sweet?” Your ear-to-ear smile falls when you hear the off-handed comment from Heeseung, leaning against the counter with his taro milk tea, with close to no sugar.

“I’m sure if they asked you, they would’ve walked out with a cake that tastes like a sponge.” You retaliate. You do your best not to look so affected, seeing as there were other people in the vicinity. It’s a bakery, you have to keep up the comforting atmosphere.

“I don’t really think you’re the best person to offer advice for those kinds of things, unfortunately.” His tone snips at your resolve, and with every passing moment you stare at his lips and listen to his words, the more you wish to sew them together.

“Sure, and they’ll be satisfied with eating basically paper? Your standards are also a little far-fetched.” You busy yourself with cleaning the cups and bowls from this morning, physically turning away from him.

He walks past you and into the kitchen, but not before saying, “I’m sorry one of us has good taste.”

You pray to every being that someone keeps Heeseung from speaking another insufferable word.

Sunoo’s house is as quaint as you remember, and although you don’t find yourself making the resemblance often, it suits him. With one hand occupied with holding a gift, and the other about to press the doorbell, you’re interrupted by an all too familiar voice.

“I guess you did show up. Sucks to see my dreams didn’t come true.”

“I will throw this at you.” You motion to the neat basket in your hands.

Heeseung sighs dramatically, before continuing in the same feigned tone. “Would be a shame if Sunoo only had one gift from us.”

“He’d understand.” You turn around to ring the doorbell, and Sunoo emerges, a bright smile on his face. He greets the both of you, and his quick side hug immediately reminds you of why you’re here.

You will have a good time. And you won’t let any auburn haired boy ruin that.

Despite being close to Sunoo, you’re not as close to the rest of his friends. He keeps his circle small, only with people he spends time with regularly. Which would be good for any other day, but for today, you feel almost like an outsider. Sunoo’s group of friends greet you all the same, and shower the boy behind you with affection. When you walk towards the kitchen, you catch some more of your mutual friends, and your nerves slowly ease away. You join their ongoing card game, an observer to it all as they yell in success or defeat.

The group of people playing Taboo suddenly doubles as the six of Sunoo’s friends decide they want in. With the way you move to the floor, you’re so preoccupied with making sure there’s enough space for everyone and that all the cards are there, that you don’t realize where you’re sitting.

Cross legged, on the ground, next to Lee Heeseung.

You can’t get up, and you weakly protest against the many thoughts telling you that a game of Taboo with Lee Heeseung would get you so heated that everyone would see steam out of your ears by the end of the first round.

“You know how to play?” Yuna starts to thumb through the cards, making sure all of them are placed in the right orientation. While the majority of you guys nod, a few of them shake their heads, and it prompts a quick explanation from Ryujin.

“So, everyone gets a set of cards in a team of 3, and you have to describe it without using the words in the white box below. So for example, if my word is Vanilla, I can’t use the words bean, flavor, ice cream, extract, or chocolate.” She shows everyone the example card, and you all nod your heads. “Okay, now we divide into teams!” You tune out the rest of her words as she divides you all into sections based on where you’re sitting, and it leaves you with a twisting feeling.

“Blue will be ____, Heeseung, and Jungwon!”

Truly, was luck ever on your side?

You don’t have time to ponder just how horrible things are going, because Jungwon’s excitedly pulling you two close into a circle to discuss game plans.

“Okay, just skip the cards you can’t answer, think about references rather than actual descriptions. Guys, the prize is good, Sunoo told me.” And the need to win anything reignites in your eyes, determination being your main motivation.

Jake, Sunghoon, and Yuna go first, and guess four cards correctly. You feel the excitement coursing through the air like electricity, as everyone’s competitive spirit shows through.

It’s finally your turn, and you volunteer to be the describer, picking up the cards with anticipation. You share a look with Heeseung and Jungwon, praying they share your wave of telepathy.

First word- Engine.

You scan through the words you’re not allowed to use, Jake watching over as your referee in case you slip up.

“Okay, it’s the thing in the-“ You’re about to say car, but you pause, quickly trying to reevaluate your descriptions. The timer looms, and you feel panic settle in. “The thing that powers the…vroom vroom.”

In Jungwon’s head, it clicks. “Engine!” You toss the card, reading the next. Egypt?

“It’s a 3D thing, but it has three sides in north Africa.”

“Pyramids.” Heeseung answers smoothly.

You grin unknowingly. “Right-right, okay. Where is it?”

“Egypt.”

“This is a Jesus related celebration-“ You continue, glancing at the hourglass as the sand slips through.

“Easter!” Jungwon says. “Christmas!”

“The second one! It’s one of the little things you… put up!”

“Stockings!” And you shake your head at Jungwon, goading them to think a bit more and guess. You glance up almost sheepishly, at a loss of words and stumbling over thoughts. Heeseung sighs, leaning back before looking at you again.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that.” You huff, flicking at the card anxiously.

“Like what? Like you can’t describe a simple word?”

“Oh, as if you could-“

“Ornament!” And with that, the timer ends. You glare at Heeseung, hard, and if you were anything like Superman, you really would’ve burned holes through his skull. Thankfully, with Jungwon was your mediator, you don’t say anything snarky back at him, staying silent as the other groups go.

The first round tension eases as the night carries on. As Jake and Sunghoon score 7 cards in one round, it prompts you, Heeseung, and Jungwon to come together, a jittery feeling as you sip from a can of soda and pray your brain works in tandem with both of them.

Remembering Heeseung’s your describer, you sink in your seat a little, feeling hopelessness consume your mind- but Jungwon doesn’t let you sulk as he cheers Heeseung on. “Last round!” He says, a sparkle in his eye. The teams are so close, and despite your team having the lowest points by being the last group to go, you know you can score the 6 points needed to beat Ni-ki, Ryujin, and Sunoo.

The hourglass is flipped, and you hold your breath.

“Naturally occuring formation,” he says smoothly, glancing at you and Jungwon. “Hot stuff.”

It clicks. “Volcano!” Jungwon smiles, feeling victory running through his veins. Heeseung’s lip curls up.

“It’s the saying with too many people, ‘three’s a..” He waits for you both to finish the line.

“Crowd!” Heeseung and you smile at each other as he continues to rush through the cards, briefly glancing over to the timer.

He falters slightly, before lighting up. “When you’re excited, you’re on ____ 9.” You finish it quickly, burning holes into the back of his cards before he continues. You have to win.

“Jungwon, we played this game in 2020 on Discord with the guys!”

“Among Us.” and you laugh at the references he makes to win.

“____, it’s the 60% thing you like at the bakery.”

Your breath hitches, and you almost forget to answer until you see the way he’s looking at you.

“Chocolate.” You mumble, and he cracks a grin again, relieved to get it in only four seconds.

With the way he looks at the words and furrows his eyes, you worry that the sand will slip through the hourglass completely before he can finish explaining the sixth and final word.

Heeseung chooses to deviate from the normal meaning of the words, and chooses to use a different meaning of it in order to not risk using a word on his unavailable list. “When something is more spicy than you expect, you say it has a little something to it.”

Your heart is beating wildly, and you’re barely in the same spot as you were when you first started, leaning over and closer to Heeseung’s curly fringe. “Kick!” you yell out, and the room explodes in commotion, carefully counting the tallies under every team name. Yeji sighs as she marks down your final tally, and you stand up, all in a group hug before you even realize it. You watch Heeseung, looking up at the way his eyes are closed and his smile’s wide. The adrenaline keeps you jumping with your partners, unaware of how Sunoo observes the carefree way you cling onto his friend, and the supposed bane of your existence. When you two finally stop cheering at your long awaited victory, you shoot Heeseung a glance, noticing how he’s already looking at you with the same gears turning in his head. Although you’ve created space, he’s zoned out, and you can tell he hasn’t noticed that you two once again make eye contact. It takes a raised eyebrow from you for him to look elsewhere, absentmindedly tonguing the inside of his cheek, feeling almost embarrassed to have been so close.

There’s a bubbling feeling in your stomach whenever you think about how he remembered- how Lee Heeseung pays attention to the little things. You push it down, because it’s nothing more than what coworkers do for each other. He’s cordial, as always. That’s all it is.

“Didn’t seem like you hated Heeseung much.” Sunoo comments, a smile puffing up his cheeks. You roll your eyes, helping him pick up some of the stray trash from the floor after the party is over.

“Don’t even!’ You start, debating if you should throw a Dorito in his face. “It’s just for the games, he was literally insufferable every other minute.”

Sunoo is unfortunately the victim to your back-and-forth, trying for you to see with reason but falling short to your simple petty nature. He fails to see how Heeseung has treated you, but deep down, you see it. You see the occasional stare Heeseung finds himself in with you, the frown on his features or the way he always carries himself as if he’s somehow better than you. It’s exasperating how easily he surpasses you, and always glances back to make sure you know. The looks he gives you are deceptive, and you basically see his thoughts laid out in front of him before he turns away. You swear to Sunoo that he has it out for you, always trying to boost that inflated ego of his by showing you how much better he is at anything.

“How are you so sure Heeseung just wants to rub it all in your face? Well, wait.” He pauses, tying a trash bag closed. “Why do you look at him so much that you catch him staring?”

Oh. You think about it, truly emptying your brain to find a proper answer, but deep down, there was none to be found.

“I don’t know, Sunoo,” you huff. “He just always looks at me.”

“Maybe he wants to be friends.”

Violently shaking your head, you smash in a water bottle, feeling a flash of confusion pass through you. “Why would he want to be friends with me? To show he’s such a nice and caring person?” The boy on the receiving end sighs, slumping to the floor in the kitchen. You stare at him, watching how Sunoo deflates before going to wash his hands in the sink. “You’re insufferable.” He calls out, laughing quietly.

A frown makes its way onto your features unknowingly, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion as you truly put yourself in your friend’s shoes.

Surely, Sunoo sees what you mean, right? There’s just no way Heeseung would want to be friends with you either- it’s not like you treat him any better than he treats you. Plus, Heeseung has had it out for you, always by your side for the best and for the worst times, somehow dampening your mood in both.

Right?

After a tight hug from Sunoo and your efforts to lift his mood after a long day, you get in your car, a random song from your playlist coursing through the stuffy air.

There is mutual hatred- well, maybe not hatred, but dislike. A definite dislike between you and some part time bakery employee who also happens to be the worst boy you’ve ever met.

You’re beginning to think that this feud between you two is a small flame that you’re shoveling piles of wood into, igniting from your own hands.

You have no idea how to prove it, though. You can’t let yourself look like an idiot by simply being nice to him if he really has it out for you and hates you- or else he’ll get some sort of upper hand.

Your plan goes like this; You’ll give Lee Heeseung one chance to prove himself as an arrogant and selfish person, and when it happens, it’ll be true solid evidence you have to dislike him. It’ll prove that Lee Heeseung hasn’t changed one bit, and that you were always right in your beliefs.

You trust the universe will help you out one time, and pray for the best.

So that’s why, when your grandmother invites you to join her at the Lee’s once again, you agree, finally getting to try not just the leftovers of Mrs. Lee’s delicious galbi recipe.

And that’s how you're standing in front of his doorstep with a welcome mat under your feet, and a porcelain cat staring up at you from the porch.

You hear the commotion that follows your knock, and you're greeted with a warm smile from whom you can only assume is Heeseung’s mother. After she invites you in, you meet the rest of the family, and make sure your grandmother has taken a seat. Heeseung glances at you from the stairs, before wordlessly joining the table, quickly grabbing bowls in the kitchen before coming to sit down. Everyone interacts, and you’re stuck smiling and shaking hands with his father and bowing to his grandmother, asking if there’s anything you can do to help.

When his mother brings the steaming aromatic food over, your eyes light up. “Here, Heeseung, sit next to ____!”

Your smile drops.

He takes the empty seat next to you, flashing you a grin. “Long time no see.” You roll your eyes, with the distance between the two of you closer than ever, you lean over to make sure your grandma gets plenty of cabbage kim-chi and warm sauces with her rice, helping her whenever necessary. By the time you sit back down, your bowl already is full of food. You glance over at the culprit.

Heeseung just shrugs when you raise an eyebrow, muttering a thank you before digging in.

“I hear you’re planning to attend the same university as Heeseung.” His mother’s words cause your eyes to widen, choking slightly on your bite before you feel someone’s hand on your back. “You okay, ____?” And the mirth in his eyes tells you he finds your reaction funny.

You shake your head in earnest, feeling yourself lose even more passion for school. She continues, reaching for some grilled meats with her chopsticks. “It’s exciting, isn’t it? You two are basically neighbors, and you’re always super hard working. Maybe Heeseung could learn a thing or two, since I hear so much about how you help out your grandma.”

You’re pleased to hear she likes you, but it all comes out at once, and her confessions leave you in surprise. You glance over at the boy next to you, hoping to gain some wicked satisfaction from it all, but what you see leaves you with a dejected look. Heeseung’s gaze is steely, and you notice the almost glare his mom sends her son after saying it. He feels small, unlike the confidence that surrounds him after test scores or when he got admitted into his colleges. Something doesn’t feel right, and it leaves a sour feeling on your tongue when you try to make yourself bigger than him.

“Heeseung has always done well. I’m sure he’ll continue to do well both at the bakery and in school.” You don’t mean to disagree with her, but it’s true. You hate to admit it, at least to his face, but Heeseung’s worked just as hard or harder than everyone else. He tilts his head in confusion as to why you’d voice something like that, and you roll your eyes, hoping that he never brings it up again.

You continue to talk with his mother, laughing at her comments and going along with whatever she has to say, no matter how traditional her views might be. You thank her profusely for the meal, and she waves you off with a bashful look. ‘It’s nothing,’ she communicates through her laughs and small hug when you two are about to leave.

“See!” Your grandma says on the walk back, as you carry tupperware of marinated meats and soup. “Hee isn’t so bad after all.”

“I guess.” You really have nothing else to tell her, not wanting to ruin the delicate moments between you two as the sun casts down a slim glow. “He didn’t really say much.”

His mom, however, made you realize just why Heeseung performs at the standard he does- because he really has no choice but to be the best, or to accept failure in front of his parents’ eyes. It’s a corrosive treatment, one that slowly digs away at anyone’s ability to be passionate about truly anything.

She changes the subject. “How’s the bakery?”

You want to tell her that Heeseung is annoying, that he runs around always telling you to do things, that he’s always too busy covered in flour and coconut cream to help you out. You want to tell her that you hate Heeseung, and that your quality of life decreases whenever he’s around. He messes with you, sends jokes and digs your way, and you don’t know how to get him out of there faster.

“Heeseung’s fine. I know he’s a big help to you.” And maybe, he’s become a big help to you, too.

There is one thing you’re not sure you can perfect- macarons.

They’re dumb, take so little ingredients yet such precision- and to be honest, do they even taste that good? In your personal opinion, they’re nothing amazing, and honestly, the scraps of chocolate cake that you don’t use for cake pops serves you well.

The night before, you and Heeseung both mutually agreed to stay for a bit longer, starting on the macarons so neither of you would mess up tomorrow morning in a rush. It’s a large order, and you get them relatively often. You try to get tips from your grandmother the night before that, writing them down in your phone and making sure you listen to every piece of advice she says. You write down the last thing in your notes, ominously typed out in bold text. “don’t overdo it.” it reads, and you stay up watching videos on how other people make them look so perfect.

Staying late for the shift meant you shifted your routine by a few hours- showering later, eating a bit later, and sleeping less than you should’ve. You were tired already, but the extra work only added to it, making you feel less and less confident in every piped macaron.

The alarm reads 8:00am, a criminally late hour if you want to get to work on time. Sending a quick apologetic text to your coworker, you rush out of the house, driving as carefully as you can to make it there while scraping as much time off as you can. Rushing in, you see Heeseung, leaning over and assessing your yellow batch. If the grid you used was supposed to be a 5 by 11 sheet, then there should be 55 macarons- but you notice, in a few places, there are missing confections.

One culprit. “How childish do you have to be to eat the ones I’ve made?” The immediate accusation has Heeseung looking up at you, straightening his back to narrow his eyes.

“Some of your macarons were hollow shelled.”

“What, so you go and throw them away without even asking me?”

Heeseung hates how the mood is immediately dampened, finding himself getting more heated around you. “We literally need 25 of each- only four of yours were hollow- I had to start making another batch because I didn’t want to risk mine being hollow, too.” He tries to explain, tapping his fingers on the counter. Your skin feels hot- how dare he mess with the batch you already worked so hard to pipe and fold? If you were to fish out the shells from the trash right now, you would be positive that they weren’t even that empty. You grab one of the tools from near the sink, going to inspect his red ones.

His attempt to make himself look human is shattered when you notice that none of his, are in fact, hollow like how he presumes they were.

“You didn’t even check yours!” You exclaim, feeling targeted.

He rolls his eyes. “It doesn’t even matter who’s batch it was- why do you care so much that I was trying to help you out because you were late today?”

That- that was your reason. Lee Heeseung once again spelt trouble, by meddling in your macarons when you could’ve so easily examined them yourself. He turns around to start washing the utensils in the sink, as you stand there and seethe. Blame it on the sleep, or on the stress of rushing out this morning, but all of it makes you walk out of the building, feeling the hot tears fill your waterline before they spill and cascade down your skin.

You worked so hard to make them- and even if they weren’t perfect, even if what he had to say was right, you just wished you could’ve seen it for yourself. You haven’t worked there much prior to the summer, and macarons have always been something you’ve wanted to nail, so to see Heeseung set the standard according to his own feelings and just throw out the ones you wanted to see- well, it hurts. It’s a jab at your pride, at all the effort you’ve put into learning and watching videos, sacrificing sleep to listen to people croak advice after advice on one of the greatest baking feats. It hurts to see once again that you’ve failed to be like Heeseung, and that he took matters into his own hands by assessing your tray for you

Fishing out your phone, you look for one contact to offer comfort. “Grandma?” You ask, sinking down to rest your head on your knees without sitting on the cement. You’re next to your car, not wanting to go through the efforts of finding your keys.

“What’s wrong?” She asks immediately after hearing your sniffle, and you tell her. You tell her about how your shells were uneven, and how you worked so hard for them, and how Heeseung threw them away before you could even see for yourself. She understands your pain, and tells you that no one can perfect something as difficult as macarons- and that during spring break, she had seen Heeseung go through the same thing. It helps, just a little, to know that he started from the same place as you, too. You calm down with her further reassurance, and wipe your puffy eyes before coming back in. You’re afraid the patrons will notice something’s up, and ignore Heeseung’s worried looks to pat cold water onto your eyelids in hopes of helping them look less red.

He sees all of it- Heeseung Isn't stupid, he knows what he’s done, but he can’t get himself to apologize. And as you knew, he went through the same heartbreaking process, and in his thorough reassessment of the situation, he doesn’t know why he didn’t see it from your perspective until you stormed out.

‘I'm sorry,’ he writes on the bag of lemon curd he made for your macarons. But it does little to salvage your disposition for today. You ignore him, never asking for any help, or any opinion even in the times you usually would. It’s quiet throughout the whole day, like a gray cloud has dampened the colors in the sky, and you clock out at exactly the right time after everything is done, put away, and cleaned. you refuse to leave a mess for Heeseung to point out, but you leave feeling angry, sad, but mostly, disappointed.

The next day, you arrive at the bakery to find Heeseung sipping from a dangerously large cup of instant boba and taro milk. His eyes dart up to witness all of your struggling glory carrying a shipment that came to the house instead of the shop. In a hurry, he grabs a few boxes from the top and sets them down on the counter, and whatever you were carrying follows suit. He treats you as if you didn’t fight, as if you two aren’t filling the room with tension the more you steal glances at each other. He grabs his drink, one that he’s prepared 15 minutes ago, and finishes almost another quarter of it in one long sip.

You want to tease him for how much taro he’s had when it’s barely 8 o’clock, but it’s not the right time. Days like this are always slow, only dragged out longer by the silence and lack of tasks. The awkward silence between you two fuels him to grab scissors and start opening the boxes.

“I thought your grandma might’ve told you I could handle it.” Heeseung comments, refilling the crushed water and oreo toppings. “I was checking the delivery updates pretty often.”

“Not often enough,” you snap. You fight back a glare, and proceed to open up your own box of extracts. “I’m her granddaughter. Maybe you should go enjoy summer with your friends. Don’t you have a beach trip to thirst trap at or something?” It’s meant to be an insult, but Heeseung quietly chuckles, finding it a little funny.

“Yes, we are having a beach trip soon. But i already told your grandma I’ll work in the morning before your aunt comes to take over.” You frown, wondering why your grandma never reaches out to you and asks you to help.

With emphasis on the syllables in his name, you fire back, “Let’s be clear, Heeseung, she wants my help much more than she needs yours.” He glares, stirring a cup with his eyebrows furrowed and lips curled down in distaste.

“I’m sure that’s why she was so enthusiastic about coming over to our house and talking to me.” It’s your turn to scowl, and you’re afraid Heeseung’s comments will only take years off your life and produce wrinkles on your face much quicker.

“Funnily enough, I heard she didn’t want you working there at all.” You cross your arms to look at him as a way to further your point.

He responds defensively. “Yeah. as if.” Even the way Heeseung rolls his eyes at you is annoying. “She just wants me around more than you.”

You can’t feel offended, especially when his tone is so light. It probably isn’t even true- how much your grandmother prefers Lee Heeseung over you, just like anyone else. The feeling burns you and you shrink away from the heat of the sudden fire accompanied by the implications of his words. Heeseung catches on to the sudden shift in your demeanor.

“Hey, I didn’t mean that.” He tries to apologize, watching you carefully.

The flames leave you angry with his response, feeling once again belittled by him. “Bullshit. Are you glad you’re the favorite for every single person you know?”

His eyebrows furrow, feeling the bite of your words, and the mood instantly changes. “That’s not what I meant, ____.”

You roll your eyes. “Of course that’s not what you meant, Heeseung. Of course you’re the one who’s perfect, and I’m simply the one who misinterprets all of it. Of course you have never had a bad intention ever and you are loved by everyone. Why can’t you just go? Do you really have to take one more thing away from me and make it your own?” The years of resentment pile up in the words you throw at him, and the built up wall you’ve created finally shows just why you should despise him so much. “Or was it not your intention to do that either?”

It’s too early, to be honest, to be fighting like this, and you’re definitely saying things that you’re going to regret. But you’re tired of being second to him- tired of never getting the recognition you so badly deserved from those who you actually wanted to hear it from. You’re tired of never being heard by your teachers, getting grades that swoop right under a certain someone’s. All on purpose. (right?)

Despite the sudden urge to bicker with you about how you think everything is about you, and how you’ve never given him a chance, the boy beside you is observant to how hurt you sound being so vulnerable. Heeseung finds himself trying to rethink the past ten years of shared childhood experiences. He’s never really thought about what he’s done to deserve such resentment from you, but the more he says silent, the more he realizes that he’s always so graciously soaked up praise from everyone, and because of it, you were always left sulking in his shadow.

“I’m sorry.” But it’s more than that.

You feel stupid for expecting anything deeper. “Is that all you have to-“

He cuts you off, trying to articulate the words and form reason. “No, there’s more. God- let me just think.” You hear how badly he needs to get it out, and you stay quiet, having let all of your anger out already.

“I’m sorry for hurting you. I’m not going to apologize for all of the things I’ve achieved,” he says firmly. “Because that’s never how things were for me- I have no reason to feel bad about what I did.” And you can respect him for standing his ground in a situation full of misunderstanding. “I never did it to hurt you, and I never did it to get in your face and show I was better. But I’m sorry for hurting you unintentionally. I’m sorry I never realized that those things were just as important to you, and I’m sorry for always assuming the worst when we’d talk. I’m sorry I never apologized, and held all of this against you, and made this thing between us worse than it was supposed to be. And, I’m sorry, too, about the macarons. That was stupid. I really should’ve known.”

You feel overwhelmed, your mind trying to undo the years of built up feelings towards him under the assumption that he meant to do those things. “I thought you did it because you genuinely didn’t want to see me happy. Like that time you did the extra credit in biology just so you could score better than me.” You breathe, words coming out without really realizing what you’re saying. “Or like that time in first grade where you spilled your applesauce on me, and never apologized. I kept thinking, what the fuck did I do to deserve it? What had I done to make you feel like we had to compete?” Your open ended questions continue to resonate within your co-worker’s mind, and the more you ramble, the more he sees just how twisted he looks.

“In first grade, that was because the boys said I’d get cooties if I went to talk to you. Believe me, ____, I tried. But every single time I try to fix things between us, you never let me, I swear.”

It’s your turn to be confused, swearing that you never saw him apologize. “When have you ever tried to be nice to me?”

“I tried to let stuff go. Like all the little things we’d say about each other- I tried to understand why you were always so unhappy around me. But you always said I was meddling in your business or that I just wanted to find another way to get under your skin.”

It settles, then, the realization that you’ve turned him into the villain a bit more than you should’ve. You know there’s always been mutual dislike- there are certain times where you know Heeseung had it out for you, with his sneers, his comments or the way he’d smile at your defeat- but you weren’t a saint either. There were other times that maybe, he wasn’t out to get you, but you were always so consumed with the idea of hating Lee Heeseung that you hated the idea of him being a decent person, too.

“I’m sorry,” You say, leaving your emotions to witness. “I really should’ve paid attention to your genuine efforts back then, too.”

And you’re not the only one who’s at a loss for words this time. Heeseung is in uncharted territory, unsure of how to process the way you’re apologizing, and being so open. And he’s antagonized you too; made you out to be a mood killer and party pooper in every event imaginable, despising the idea of being around you because you two always disagree somehow.

“But, why do you do it? Why do you come here if it’s really anything personal?”

He answers in the only way he sees fit. “I want to help her out, she’s always cooked for our family, she’s let me come over a few times, just little things for my family and I. I never meant to take your grandma away from you like that, I promise. She’s just so kind, and she cares so much about me, so of course I want to care for her, too. I just didn’t think it’d be at the expense of you.”

Despite still feeling hurt, you nod, trying to be mature and talking about it rather than burying it deep. “All I hear about is how she wants you to come, and how she never needs my help anymore because she has you already volunteering. It’s like I barely mean anything to her.” Your words sting for Heeseung, but not because there’s any anger directed at him. Heeseung feels a pang of relatability in his chest, the inability to ever be enough for those around you gnawing away at your self-esteem.

He shakes his head, begging you silently to understand. “She doesn’t want you to work so hard.” He starts, running a hand through his hair. “She tells me about how she’s worried if you’re eating, or if you’re stressed. She’s watched you through-out your whole life, ____. All she’s ever wanted was for you to finally enjoy the summer you worked so hard for.”

“I just wish it felt that way.” You admit.

To hear such high praise from his lips feels foreign- the idea of Lee Heeseung noticing how hard you’ve worked, realizing the amount of effort you’ve put into your standing and accomplishments, it’s weird. You know he understands completely how stressful it’s all been, considering he was stuck to your side the whole time in highschool whether you liked it or not. Lee Heeseung has worked hard, if not harder, than you, and for him to be able to admit that is so much different than what your perception of him would think. It’s awkward to meet his gaze, and his small smile eases the tension a little when you laugh at his attempt to soothe things out.

“I feel dumb, for thinking so horribly of you. I honestly never thought you looked at me like I was an equal, just someone you could surpass.” He shakes his head, about to reach out and grab your wrist before he realizes just how intimate it would be.

“You’re not dumb, _____. You never have been. I’ve always looked up to you.”

There are knots in your chest- the ones that make it feel as tight and hard to breathe as you do right now- that slowly become untangled the more he speaks of you. His words undo them, little by little, and even if it takes a long time to fix the rift between you two, at least you know you have help.

Internally, your heart begs you to ask. “Why do you even care?”

He pauses, mulling over his words, and looking for a proper response. “I don’t know.” He sighs. “I just want to, we’ve been around each other since we were kids, and if there was someone who I’d hope to have by my side, whether or not we’re close, it was you.”

Your breath hitches at his confession, and your mind runs in a hundred different directions, without ever expecting those words to tumble from his lips. You promise yourself to do things differently from now on, not trusting your words to continue the conversation.

“We should finish unpacking.” And the rest is that.

When you two leave to go home, the old tension feels different- lighter, almost. As much as you know he would do things to get on your nerves, never understanding just why you were so negative and brooding around him, your perception of him wasn’t the best, either. And still, you may be a bit mad at him, and not exactly friendly, but at least you’ve both let go of the unspoken baggage.

When you sit in the passenger seat, you’re less inclined to turn away and face the window, and make small talk with the radio on.

Things aren’t perfect- the years of hurt he’s done to you doesn’t dissipate in a day, but it’s getting better, and you can only hope it continues that way.

A week passes between the two of you, and time flows easier now that you two talked things out. You don’t dread going to work, and you didn’t refuse when he offered to buy food on the way home a few days ago. Sure, some topics between you two are sore, and you’re not best of friends, but it’s light years ahead of what it was like before.

You can never truly get rid of the banter between you two- there are clever insults you’ve crafted in your head that you love to see his reaction to, and you’re just the right person for Heeseung to bicker with.

“Do you ever stop drinking that soy milk?” Your coworker asks. You nurse your cup, keeping it close as you rush to defend your end of shift drink. “You’re like, a baby.”

“It’s lactose free. And a very good basic drink.” You explain, frowning at yet another large cup of taro tea he holds in his hands. “Your drink probably tastes like nothing.”

He holds it out, and you raise an eyebrow. “Just use the same straw,” he insists. You truly don’t mind, but it’s so weird now to know that Heeseung, like, your friend. But you take a sip anyways, cringing at how your suspicions were right- There’s barely a hint of sweetness in there.

“Don’t make that face!” He comments when you grimace, and also feels the need to protect his opinion on 15% sweet options.

“Anyways,” you change the subject, determined to get him to see your sweet tooth ways. “Help me make some creme brûlée for my grandma. I’ve never tried.” And he sets his cup down, and for the first time possibly, Heeseung joins you to do something.

“It should be easy, right?” He says, and with a look of determination, you set off.

“Heat the cream.” You tell him, reading the instructions from your phone.

He retorts lightly, “So rude.” and you turn around to scoff, all in good fun.

“You’re insufferable.” And he tilts his head, offering you a small pouty smile when he turns on the stove.

The mood feels so much less stuffy than it did before when he says, “Must suck to always hate me like how you do.”

“I have an egg yolk in my hand that i’m willing to throw at you.” He chuckles, and peers over at your bowl.

“You’re pretty good at that.” He notes, and you fight the urge to beam at his compliment for your yolk-separation skills. After he’s poured in enough cream, he grabs the sugar and a measuring spoon, fishing your phone out from beside you and reading the measurements.

He adds so much less than what the recipe says, and you only know this because when you glance over, the scale reads a number much lower than 65 grams.

“Heeseung,” You call out, in a playfully stern manner, and the boy in question turns around like he’s been caught. “Bring back the sugar.”

“We’ve run out.” He says, the lie appearing as a wide smile on his face. Unconvinced, you walk over, and in turn, he holds the jar up out of your reach. You refuse to reach for it, knowing that the boy in front of you is much taller, but also that you don’t want to break the glass with some horseplay.

Your voice goes from demanding to reasoning. “Give it back. God, I can’t stand you and all of your low sugar preferences. The sugar is literally needed for the texture!” He simply shakes his head, walking over to add just one more unmeasured spoonful. “You didn’t even weigh it.”

Heeseung mocks you- a high-pitched and garbled version that follows the intonation of your words, and you let out a surprised scoff at his immaturity. Getting a whisk, you make sure the newly added sugar is fully dissolved. He returns with the pot of cream that bubbles slowly, with an oven mitt around the hot handle. Without a look in your direction, Heeseung holds out his arm between you and the heated cream, and it really doesn’t do much- but yet, at the same time, it does. It’s something he does subconsciously; and something you do your best not to pay attention to in order to properly reach for the whisk.

He slaps your hand away lightly, and you mumble an ‘ow!’ in response. “Don’t touch that. Let me whisk it. It’s hot.” He reprimands gently.

Yeah, you’re still doing your best not to pay attention to it.

When the mixture transforms from a deep yellow to a pale banana color, he leans down and checks the side of the bowl for any egg and sugar he’s missed. “Here,” you reach out. “Let me get the pot.” Heeseung glances up, and shakes his head quickly.

“No it’s okay-“ and it happens quickly, the hand that was whisking leaves to swat your hand away, but it instead makes contact with the rim of the metal appliance when he doesn’t pay attention to where his hand is placed. Although Heeseung only hisses quietly at the pain, you immediately feel bad.

“Just give it to me,” you demand, and pry the pot out of his hand to let him nurse his wound, leaving it in the sink and quickly going to the medicine cabinet for burn relief cream- the same one you used a few weeks ago. After you grab it, you return to him, reaching out your hand and waiting for him to show you the puffy red skin.

He slowly puts his hand on your palm, and you twist around his finger to apply the ointment, doing your best to spread it without pressing too hard.

“Thank you.”

You glare. “Don’t hold hot things if you’re not fully attending to them.” And he puts his hands up in surrender, taking a step back.

“I’ll be preparing your ramekins, boss.” The nickname has a nice ring to it.

When it’s done, the creme brûlée comes out with a slight wobble in the middle, indicating a well-cooked perfection. “Grab the blowtorch!” You shove him into the direction of where it is, and he complies. You sprinkle sugar over five of the six dishes, using a spoon to shape the sugar in the last dish into a heart since you thought it looks cute.

Heeseung comes back from your right, leaning over to watch you intently. “A heart? You make it seem like you’re in love, or something.” He jokes, evading a jab with your right elbow.

“Shut up.”

“You shut up.”

“You argue like a-“ you’re about to finish your sentence with ‘child,’ but when you turn your head (in hopes that saying it directly would add more emphasis), you’re face to face with Heeseung, with a proximity between you two that’s far less than expected.

He takes a quick step away, and you glance somewhere else with a nervousness in your eye.

Neither of you say anything, not really sure if you should apologize or if he should, and you return to your current task, a small churning turning in your stomach. You take a step back to let him caramelize the sugar, and he holds the blowtorch with his non-burned hand.

It’s good, is the only thing you think when you crack the sugar and scoop a bit, admiring the texture. When you and Heeseung finished one each, you begin to clean up and wash the equipment you used.

“It’s late, _____. I’ll take you home.” He states the obvious, and for what?

“How else am I supposed to get back?” You laugh, and in response, he shrugs.

“Just a reminder as to which one of us is so graciously kind to drive you too and from the bakery almost everyday.”

“If I had a choice, I could’ve easily taken my own car. You know my grandma needs it for her errands. Like her Wednesday bingo night, or whatever.” He chuckles, holding the door open and unlocking the car.

Being in the same space as Lee Heeseung isn’t as excruciating as how it used to be- and now, it’s just an opportunity for you to finally ask your burning questions.

“Heeseung, I’m just curious. How did you even meet my grandma?”

He furrows his eyebrows. “I think it was the mailbox,” he starts, trying to remember. “She dropped her mail, and it blew out into the street, so I went to get it for her. And on the walk back, she just started asking me questions. Apparently she and my mom were closer than I thought.”

“And that’s how you started working?”

“First, it was community service. Just using the cash register- since we’re cashless, it’s nothing illegal to have me manage orders.”

“And she just thought you were an angel from the get-go, or something?”

“Who doesn’t?” And you glare, mocking him like what he did to you earlier. Heeseung’s lips curl into a grin at your antics, never taking it to heart.

“Me, obviously.” And it’s a half-lie, because secretly, Heeseung isn’t so bad.

“Well,” he starts, motioning. “I don’t think there’s anything I do or could do that you’d like.”

You splutter, “That’s not true!” And he raises an eyebrow at your indignant words.

“Name one thing that you like about me.”

“No!” You refuse, crossing your arms. “You already have a large enough ego from the teachers.”

Heeseung rolls his eyes at you, tapping his hands tapping on the wheel impatiently. “That’s lame, ____. You’re just further proving my point.”

With a sigh, you tell him, “I like how you helped us win in Taboo.” And he gives you a look.

“Cop-out.”

“What-? No!” Emptying your brain, you try to find something you truly like about the boy who makes life a living hell- or, well, used to (he still kind of does). “Okay, fine. I like that you care about my grandma.”

Heeseung stays kind of quiet, not really sure what to do now that you’re once again being sincere. “Well, she’s like- the only person who doesn’t expect something from me.”

Confusion floods your thoughts. “What do you mean?”

“I’m grateful for everyone in my life,” He prefaces. “But it’s no fun having to always work for people’s approval, sometimes, I wish that someone could just appreciate me for me, and that’s how your grandma is. No expectations with her. She’s just happy I’m still around- which, I know, is bare minimum, but at least I don’t have to try so hard for her to like me.” The light turns green, and the car rumbles as he slowly accelerates.

You mull over his confession. “Do I expect something from you then, too?”

“You expect me to perform well, because I always have- and therefore, I have to do well, or else you’ll just rub it in my face.” He states plainly, and you grimace for the second time today.

“Sorry, I won’t do that anymore.” Heeseung waves you off.

“It’s no big deal- plus, you weren’t the only one who thought I’d do well all the time. It’s something everyone thought of me. If anything, you were the one who just motivated me to always work harder.”

“But isn’t that a good thing? To be the best?”

He shakes his head and when you take a good look at him, Heeseung has a glassy look in his eye. “Sometimes, yes. A lot of the time, no. I just want to do well without anyone forcing that on to me. I don’t want the expectation to be perfect, because then, it’s so much easier for me to stumble.” You don’t realize just how much weight Heeseung carries on his back from the words of his peers and his family. And to you, he resembles a diamond; perfect, but from pressure.

“Well, from now on, I won’t expect it from you. And if I do better, then I won’t rub it in your face. So that’ll make two people you won’t have to worry about.” The response he gives you is non-verbal, but his change in expression is first laced with surprise, and then silent appreciation.

“Thanks,” he says, once again at a loss for words. “I appreciate it.”

You send Heeseung a smile, understanding how it feels to always have to do good. You can only hope that he gets his break from the pressure before he burns out.

“Oh, I should tell you now. I can’t make it next Friday. I have plans, and I’d figure I’d let you know now so you could find someone to replace me.” He announces. When he looks over to see your response, you nod in understanding.

“What are you doing?”

“Grad party.” Heeseung says plainly. “It’s Jake’s, so if I’m hungover, I’ll try to let you know if I’ll be good by morning.”

“So considerate.” You comment, albeit a bit teasing. He scoffs, making the final turn before reaching your house. “To be expected from someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” He questions. “And what kind of person am I?”

“Someone who’s going to have to work alone for the next two weeks if he doesn’t shut up.” He laughs, his eyes scrunching up as unlocks the car. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Of course, ____.”

A few days go by, but one morning, you walk outside to see Heeseung parked in his car, scrolling on his phone- and it takes you walking up to him to roll the window down.

“You didn’t even text me you were coming,” you start, pouting slightly.

Heeseung pats the passenger side. “Just- get in, will you?” And you comply, never one to refuse a free trip to work.

“So why today?” You ask, fiddling with your fingers and bag. “You usually never pick me up on Thursdays.”

“Since it’s your grandma’s birthday and all, I figured I could just pick you up, and drop you off. She called me yesterday asking to come over, and invite my parents, too. And they couldn’t come because of a work trip, but I promised her.”

You stay silent. “Fuck, that’s today?” And Heeseung laughs- not at you, just at the situation.

He nods, eyes still glued to the road. “Have you decided what you want to get her?”

“Flowers, definitely. Probably these treats she’s been thinking about getting from the store. I have this really nice collection of kitchen appliances that I know she’ll like.” And you’re rambling, but Heeseung makes no effort to stop you. “She loves to peel stuff by hand, but I was trying this thing out in the store and it actually works perfectly. Here, I’ll pull it up.” And he takes a quick look at the overpriced appliance, realizing that you also care immensely, but in different ways. “I still need to get her stuff, though- I’m not sure how I’m supposed to get to the flower shop if they close when we close.” And it leaves you dejected, since you know what flowers are her favorite, and how happy she’d be if she saw them on the table for a while.

“We’ll figure it out,” Heeseung promises, and you nod, believing his words.

You close a bit earlier than usual, and Heeseung writes on a small sticky note for patrons to come tomorrow. The bakery closes at 8:00 PM everyday, and usually 30 minutes can’t hurt- or at least, you hope it doesn’t.

When you continue to anxiously check the clock, he comes to your side, rubbing your shoulder and telling you that “30 minutes is plenty of time.”

“We have to walk there though, and clean up. There’s virtually no parking there ever since that other place opened up nearby.” And he curses, not taking something like that into consideration. While you might be ending earlier, you can’t just leave anything out in fear that someone’s going to try and break in, but you also don’t have nearly enough time to properly wash the dishes and wipe down the tables and counters. Instead, you both opt for putting away the large equipment and the food, turning off the lights so anyone who looks in gets the impression it’s closed with the lack of displays or people around. Then, you two can come back to finish organizing and preparing for tomorrow.

His reassurance is easy to listen to, and Heeseung’s ability to figure out a plan is comforting in and of itself. You’re grateful he’s even willing to come with.

“You can just wait in the car, really-“

Heeseung looks at you like you’re mad. “We talked about this,” he pressed. “It’s dangerous to go out alone. I have nothing to do in the car anyways.”

Finally, you shut off the lights and start dragging Heeseung’s arm, who’s still taking the key out of the lock as he’s being taken away by your impatience. Setting off in a brisk walk, you continue to check your phone, trying to beat time. Heeseung promises you once more that it’ll be okay, and you ask him what he got for your grandma to change the conversation. You both know her well, and your gifts reflect what qualities you care for most. You realize that Heeseung always keeps others in the back of his mind- like his thoughtful gift to Sunoo, with a handwritten card that Sunoo read a bit of to you guys before Heeseung stopped the further embarrassment. You didn’t realize it then, but the people in his life feel wanted all the time because he has the love to give them.

You get there barely five minutes before 8:00 PM, and the discontent that washes over the shop owner’s face is apparent. “We’re closed,” she says, and you can’t imagine it’s easy to stay by yourself in a room so stuffy and full of pollen. You walk up to her with Heeseung following behind you, observing the way you practically beg for her to let you find some flowers. You promise you won’t take long, and she sighs, unraveling some of the wrapping paper she knows you’ll want.

There aren’t many left now that the day is over- and you wonder what kind of people frequent the flower shops. Is it apologetic husbands trying to win over their disappointed wives? Is it children buying flowers for their parents and elders? Or is it people like you and Heeseung, who want to gift it to someone they care about?

“Can you trim the thorns?” And she shakes her head, continuing to ring your bouquet up. You feel horrible, understanding exactly how it feels when someone at the bakery asks for something so grandiose near closing, when your social battery has depleted and you don’t have any more smiles to give. And you know this, but you’re willing to go above and beyond if the shop owner is okay with it. The effort she’s put in already to cut the papers and ribbons to accentuate the flowers is already plenty, but it’s your grandma, and you make sure to come back to support her generously again.

“Please,” you exhale, desperation and anger mixing in your tone. “I’ll pay extra.” With that, the shop owner sighs, taking your forty dollars and looking up as she opens the cash register. “Just keep it.” You say, in apology for earlier. She doesn’t decline the offer, and slides the crumpled bill into the slot with the rest of them, and ties a purple ribbon around the bouquet.

You almost forget that he watches the whole ordeal, until the owner of the flower shop mutters a “couples these days” under her breath, and your eyes widen.

With profuse thanks, you grab the neatly wrapped flowers and leave, but the moment you turn the corner, you gawk. “Did you hear what she said?”

“That we’re a couple?” Heeseung brushes it off like it’s nothing. “Yeah. But- what kind of boyfriend would I be if I wasn’t the one paying for them?”

Heeseung paying for flowers to give to you- it’s a thought that leaves you quiet as your feet follow the same steps you took to get there. Of course he would- and you wonder if you’d ever want to be on the receiving end of it from him- or, actually, anyone for that matter. You’re not sure your mind automatically wants such a sweet gesture from Lee Heeseung himself.

“Thank you for coming, again.”

“Quit worrying about bothering me,” and it’s like he can read your mind. “Believe it or not, I don’t mind being around you.” His sarcastic comment still holds that undercurrent of honesty, and it’s like he knows just what you need to hear.

The walk back is much less stressful than the walk to. It falls back to that simple dynamic between two people who have begun to tolerate each other, full of little insults, hits to the side, and laughing. You finally make it back, and the sun paints the sky with swirling blue and pink. The sunset illuminates Heeseung’s side profile as he unlocks the door again, and when you finally pay attention to his jawline, or the gentle purse of his lips in concentration, you come to the conclusion that Heeseung is more than easy on the eyes.

And as you two clean up, the flowers sit in the passenger seat; a symbol of care for your grandmother, and Lee Heeseung’s time well spent with you.

The trips with leftovers become more frequent, and his parents always remember who you are every time you come bearing gifts. “____!” They exclaim, returning the old tupperware with more dishes on top. It feels like at this point, your grandma cooks for them, and they cook for her just as much.

“Go bother Heeseung, won’t you? We have dinner in a moment, but he’s been so busy with his work.” You smile at her, curious as to what he even has to do now that school’s over. “It’s the room to your left when you go up.”

You knock on his door and he yells in response, telling you to come in. Under the assumption that it’s his family, Heeseung goes wide-eyed when he notices it’s you in his messy room with his pajamas and old t-shirts strewn here and there.

“I did not expect it to be you,” he mumbles, quickly getting out of his chair to fix his covers and pick up a sock. A laugh bubbles from your throat with the way he’s scrambling to make things presentable right before you.

“Don’t worry. I don’t think I’ll be staying long anyways. Your mom told me to drag you downstairs because you were too invested in your work.” He looks sheepish as he mumbles a quick apology, and after the quick tidying, he shuts his laptop and organizes his desk. “What do you even have to do anyways?”

“I’m just making music- I started this internship with an entertainment company where they let me shadow a producer and offer input on some unreleased songs for their artists- so I’m just looking at the tracks and making demos.”

“They let you do that? I figured shadowing wasn’t possible for a company so big.” He nods, a smile dusting his features, and you can tell he takes pride in what he’s accomplished.

You’re about to ask more, but a call of your names from downstairs leaves you two quickly walking down.

“Have dinner with us!” His dad tells you, and you want to tell him you already ate a bit, but the noodles look delicious, and you agree to only eat a little bit. You glance over at Heeseung, but he offers a small smile as he pulls out a chair for you.

And so it begins again, but just without your grandmother.

“____, what are you planning to do in the future?” Heeseung’s dad starts.

“I’m planning to study Biology in the fall at uni.” You start. “I had an internship last summer before senior year, and I really learned a lot from it, so I knew what I wanted to do by the time I applied for schools.” His mother praises you, as all Asian mothers do, and you can see why Heeseung is so kind-hearted by the way his parents speak to you.

The conversation naturally switches from your plans to Heeseung’s, as they talk about his pursuit in music production.

“I’m sure he’s doing a good job, I’m always in classes with him, and there’s nothing you need to worry about.”

His mother continues, however. “I mean, there’s always ways kids can get ahead. I always tell him to apply for things early, and he could’ve gotten more scholarships and finished his internship last summer if he wasn’t so behind. But he’s doing it now, so there's nothing we can say about it.” Her words rub you the wrong way immensely. While your own parents were never the most involved in your high school academics and were supportive of any career path you chose, they never placed an expectation on you to do the best and overachieve. But you get the sense that for Heeseung, no matter how supportive they were, it was never really good enough. It’s torturous.

But, you don’t really know how to respond, humming to ease the growing silence instead. “That’s always true, but I know a lot of people look up to him, including me. He’s doing great regardless of when he does it.” No matter how gently you put it, you know it’s in total opposition to how they think and feel when it comes to their own son, but you can only hope that it helps ease the tension.

The rest of dinner goes smoothly, with the discussion of your summer and how things have been with friends, parties, and planned trips. You finish their food quickly, complimenting Heeseung’s mother’s cooking once again and watching her face light up.

“You should head home, we don’t want your grandma to be too worried.” His dad starts, and you agree, quick to grab your bag. Heeseung takes the containers from your hand and starts putting on his sandals. “I’ll walk you home.” Despite your refusal to let him carry your things, he insists, and you miss the way his mom stares fondly at you two from the kitchen island.

The warm summer air gives you the illusion that it’s not so late, and with the way light still peaks from the horizon, you feel less tired the later the summer nights get.

The boy next to you speaks up first. “Did you mean it?” You sneak a glance at his relaxed posture, a hand in his sweatpants and bangs on his forehead.

“What part?”

“Any part.”

You nod, feeling almost incredulous that he thought you’d make up something like that after you two agreed to be on good terms.

“Of course, Hee- I wouldn’t lie about that stuff, especially not to your parents.”

“I’m sorry about them, by the way.” He reaches up to run a hand through his hair. “They have high expectations sometimes, I’m sorry if it’s uncomfortable to hear them talk about me like that so openly.” The first instinct you have is to reach for his shoulder, making eye contact with him and offering a semblance of comfort before you walk across the street.

“No, you don’t need to apologize for stuff like that. I’m sorry your parents hold you to those kinds of expectations.”

“It’s okay, I’m used to it.”

“But the problem is, you shouldn’t have to be used to it. You’ve genuinely done so much and you deserve some recognition rather than someone always telling you to do better.”

It goes quiet, but you don’t choose to bring anything else up, enjoying the crickets chirping and the gentle breeze that carries you home.

You stop outside your door and unlock it, inviting him in to say hi to your grandmother.

“Thank you,” you tell him as he’s leaving. “For walking me home.”

Heeseung simply shakes his head. “It was nothing, really. Thank you for seeing my parents again and whatnot.” He smiles, waving at you before walking back, and a grin makes its way onto your face before you even notice it.

Your phone dings at an hour earlier than you expected to get up, and it leaves you in an annoyed mood while you turn off your alarms.

hee: dude you HAVE to come in we just got a huge order for triple chocolate cake they said they’d pay extra if we finished by today

y/n: help wtf r u doing at the bakery

hee: i was making brownies i asked ur grandma this morning if i could

y/n: what for…

hee: because i had a craving ??? what else..

y/n: oh LOL ok ill be there in 30

Originally, you and Heeseung were going to have the day off, and your aunt and grandma were going to work instead- but the tempting offer from Heeseung leaves you explaining why you have to come in for work, and that they should stay at home. You say anything that comes to mind, but they know you wouldn’t let them come with the way you were dressed and already grabbing your shoes and keys.

When you finally rush to the doors, you see Heeseung cutting into the chocolate treats, and when you two make eye contact, he shoves the piece in his mouth and nods.

“Gross.” You comment, laughing.

He says something intangible, and you shake your head, putting on your apron.

The amount of work you two have put in is simply criminal to be fake, and the day off you have is getting darker the longer you two stay.

You voice your concerns. “Do you think they’re lying about the tip?What they told you seems like much.”

Heeseung shrugs, and sprinkles sea salt over the piece he picks up. “I’d hope it’s true. They seemed pretty desperate. I called them back today telling them their order would be done soon, so if they show up and pay more, that’d be great.”

“I’m glad you’re so optimistic.” You laugh.

“I have to be, because you’re definitely not.” Heeseung laughs when he sees the scowl on your face.

“Oh yeah? I think I’m at least a little better than the time you spilled the tapioca pearls and then talked about how everyone had it out for you that day.” He rolls his eyes.

“Between the two of us, I’ll always hear you saying ‘fuck, i dropped the spoon’ more.” His teasing has you smiling.

“Focus on your lettering. Or do you need someone to hold your hand and help you?” You lean over to look at him spelling CONGRATS with brown icing. “You messed up.” Nitpicking, you point out a random loop and make fun of him for it despite it not looking bad at all.

“I did not!” He huffs defensively. “I want to see you try.” He passes you the bag, and you get a piece of plastic wrap on the counter before starting.

“Lee Heeseung sucks.” He reads. “Did you seriously write that?” You laugh at how offended he is, and the boy next to you is quick to pull the bag from your hand to start piping. halfway through the word ‘hate,’ you elbow his side, and it causes his letter ‘t’ to be dragged too far.

“Hey!” He runs over, smearing a bit of icing on your forehead before you duck and try to avoid all his other attacks. The laughs bubble from your stomach, the adrenaline causing you two to chase each other around the kitchen. You’re not even sure what Heeseung would do if he catches you, but you don’t want to find out.

“I think we should package those cakes!” You remind him, albeit as a distraction. He sighs, crossing his arms in defeat before agreeing and heading back over. You narrowly avoid his glare, a wide smile on your face as you hum in victory. It’s a bit past closing, and he makes sure to flip the sign, still keeping the light on.

The customer rings the phone, telling Heeseung that she’ll be there in a few minutes. By the time you’ve boxed all three cakes and cleaned up any edges, she walks in. You ring her up at the counter, and she pulls out her largest bills, telling you to take the change as a gift. You two both thank her immensely, making sure she can carry the cakes out to her car before closing for the night.

When Heeseung enters through the front door, immediately you start cheering. “We just got paid tonight, Hee!”

The boy grins, subtracting the total from the amount she gave, and it’s clear that she was being serious when she said she would pay extra. “I think this calls for celebration.”

You don’t really have an excuse to see him outside of work, and the idea of being alone in a non-bakery setting feels scarily new.

And you’re about to make up an excuse about how you have to be home (you don’t), but your stomach makes a low sound, and it serves as an answer in place of your faltering words.

“I’m thinking Korean.”

You don’t expect to learn something new about Lee Heeseung, until you see him order two bowls of stir fried ramen despite the restaurant serving much more elegant dishes.

“Ramen?” A glance at the menu has you reading one of the more expensive meals offered. “You could’ve had- I don’t know, their Honey Garlic Short Ribs.”

He scrunches his nose in disapproval as a testament to how much he adores his instant noodles. “It’s just not the same. We barely have noodles at home, since my mom always insists on making it from scratch or boiling them in those big packages. Never just ramen.” You take a sip of your water, surprised.

“You don’t have ramen? God, come over more often, I’ll make you some.” You suggest lightheartedly.

He glances over, taking you up on the offer. “Woah- me, in your space?” You send him a glare, looking away and ignoring his laughs.

The food comes relatively quickly, and he looks over what you’ve gotten to judge it. “It looks good. Let me have some.” He says, reaching over with his wooden chopsticks.

You gasp at his suddenness, quick to refuse and to drag your plate away from him as you pick up a short rib and eat it before he can. The meat tastes wonderfully marinated and tender, and you don’t realize that the haphazard way you tried to eat it left some sauce on your mouth. Heeseung glances over with a frown, about to comment on how incredibly stingy you are until he notices there’s red sauce on your chin, and grabs his tissue.

“Here.” He says, tapping you on the shoulder. And silently, he wipes it off, to make sure you won’t have to walk around with people seeing and saying anything.

“Oh- thanks.” It’s pathetic the way your throat dries up, and how you force yourself to drink your water and move on. You hear about this only in movies- about male leads you turn to burns and wax poetic about how much they love you. You don’t expect it to happen so suddenly.

“Is yours any good?” You ask, averting your gaze. His fried eggs and boiled shrimp sit neatly on his stir fried noodles, the presentation better than you could ever make it at home.

With a shrug, he replies, “We’ll see.” He tries some, and you see a satisfied grin on his features.

“Is ramen really that good, Hee?” His enthusiastic nods tell you all you need to know as you continue eating, your pile of bones growing ever so slowly. You two make small talk, about his recent beach trip, or about you rafting with your friends. He talks of college- about going away and his fears of growing up. You tell him you’re scared to dorm, since you’ve been around your family for so long, and you share each other’s sentiments about the rapidly approaching adulthood you’ll both have to face. It’s nice like this, not to bicker and to argue and to despise him. It’s nice to just exist around Lee Heeseung, and you wonder why you haven’t done something like this before- sitting next to him and being able to talk freely about the interests and questions you share.

You guess that it was just the timing- you were both always so stressed from school, unable to properly sit down to sort out your emotions. And yeah- summer is a new slate, and this year feels just a bit more life-changing than the rest of them.

“You eat so slow.” And you shoot him yet another scowl, picking up some rice.

“You ordered ramen and you eat like you’ve been starved for three years.”

“Whatever. I’ll cover the bill?”

Narrowing your eyes, you try to remember if you two had discussed anything about payments before. “No- I thought we were just going to split the bill.”

He doesn’t seem to care too much. “I’ll pay for you, since I couldn’t have done it without you,” refering to all the baking you did today.

Exasperated, you refute his horrible reasoning. “I wouldn’t have even found out about her order if you weren’t there. Just let me split it.” You reach out expectantly, and he retracts the receipt, clutching it close.

“Just pay me back sometime for something else,” and it’s the last thing he says before turning on his heel and leaving you with your agape.

When you clean up and join him in the car, the first thing you tell him is that he’s ‘annoying,’ and ‘so stubborn it hurts.’

Heeseung just laughs at you, telling you it’s nothing special- like he’s used to paying for others. And thinking about how many people come in to ask him for his number or hope for a date, your assumption makes sense- that he does these things for everyone, and you’re not an outlier in any way.

When the bakery is one chestnut haired boy short, things are much less interesting.

“Don’t have too much fun without me.” You joke when Heeseung begins to undo his apron.

“You can come,” He offers with a small yet sincere smile on his face. “I asked, you all know each other anyways.” You feel your heart stir with the way Heeseung keeps you in his thoughts.

All you do is refuse his offer. “I have to rewatch my rom-coms.” You wave him off, and within minutes, you’re left alone. The quiet music plays and the bell jingles every so often as patrons come for pick-up orders or drinks. Thankfully it was slow for a Friday, and you weren’t rushing around the shop.

There’s a girl who’s around your age who walks in, curious as to who’s taking her order before making eye contact with you emerging from behind the curtain.

“Where’s the boy you usually work with?” She says, getting a list of what her and her friends wanted. “I’ve been meaning to ask for his number.”

You can’t lie and say you’re indifferent to her question, but nonetheless, you take her order and give her his phone number saved in his contact. “He’s not dating anyone, so don’t worry.” You tell her, handing over the receipt. She smiles, and your heart tightens a little at the thought of Heeseung. One of you two is well-liked, one out of the two of you is perfect in every way, and it wasn’t you.

Without any of your usual weekly plans with your friends, the drive home was quiet as you figured out what to do for the weekend. You would feel bad every time your grandma had to take a shift despite her recovering quickly, and despite her being excited to work again. When home, you decide to make dinner, change, clean up around the house, and retreat to your old room. The show you were catching up on until the wee hours of night was interrupted, and a familiar contact flashes on the screen.

“Heeseung?” You ask, confused. It’s 12:00 AM.

“____-ie.” The line giggles a bit before you hear some shuffling. “My head hurts.”

You’re a bit shocked to hear him like this, but you’re not going to hang up on him and leave him confused. “Did you drink too much?” You ask, trying to choose your words carefully.

“Yeah,” Heeseung responds, sighing. “I lost a bet, _____. And I lost cup pong, too.” He sounds dejected, like a hurt puppy as he elongates his syllables and pauses between thoughts. “I was going to tell you something.”

“That you can’t come in for work tomorrow? You sound out of it, Heeseung.”

He groans, and more shuffling comes from his side. “Yeah, but I can’t drive, ____-ie.” You cringe at the nickname, but refuse to say anything about it with the way he’s acting now. “No one else can take me home, and my parents can’t know.” He sounds stressed, and you’re quick to reassure him before he starts crying.

“Where are you?”

“You’ll pick me up?” Heeseung asks, his tone filled with elation.

“Maybe. Depends on how I feel in the next 10 minutes.”

“I’ll cover your shifts anytime, I’ll drive you home, I’ll buy food for you, I’ll sneak you out…” He continues to ramble about all the favors he could do for you, and you laugh before getting out of bed.

“You better mean it.”

“I want to see you.” You know he just wants to go home, you know he doesn’t mean anything else with his words. You know he just wants to sober up and go to sleep.

You know it’s nothing more between you two, yet your heart still beats wildly with every minute you drive, the words echoing in your head.

“I got you water, and some food- I have no idea if you ate or not.” Is the first thing you tell him when he stumbles out of the house and into your car.

Heeseung’s one drowsy blink away from falling asleep, and you have to shake him away to make sure he doesn’t fall asleep with a hangover. “Hee!” You rush to park on a random sidewalk before unbuckling your seatbelt.

You brush back his red hair, pushing his curly bangs away and wiping the sweat from his forehead. He slowly blinks, adjusting to the proximity between you two. You shove a water bottle in his hand before getting a tissue to wipe the light sheen off of his skin.

“What are you doing, hm?” And his voice, rough with exhaustion, has you quiet for a moment as your skin gets hot.

Despite your heart thrumming faster, you force yourself to answer simply. “You’re going to have a hangover.”

He opens his water, drinking almost a third before he leans back. “My head still hurts.” He whines, and you have to laugh.

“Here,” you suggest, opening the tupperware of fried rice. “Eat.”

He refuses, continuing to drink from his water, and you don’t have it in you to be annoyed at him. Instead, you grab a spoon. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” You mumble, starting to break up the fried egg and mix it all together.

After the first bite, “It’s good,” He says simply. “I’m glad I got to see you.”

You feel the incessant pounding in your eardrums and your whole face feels hot. “Eat, before you throw up.”

“I missed you.” Despite the harmless intention, you can’t stand to let Heeseung sweet-talk you, and it almost frustrates you to know there’s no weight to his words.

You roll your eyes at him and force him to finish his water. “Sober up before you get home.”

In the quiet of the night, in the small neighborhood with everyone asleep, no one would know about the loudness of your chest, about how his eyes still hold his twinkle as he gazes tiredly at you, letting him dote on him.

You continue to make sure he drinks and eats, and you’re so engrossed in taking care of him that you don’t realize how little the distance is between you. Making eye contact with him leaves you stunned into silence, but Heeseung says nothing to dispel what’s between you two. He reaches up, his palm cupping your jaw, and you swear, past the alcohol, there’s the faint fresh scent of the ocean, one that you recognize from being around him so often.

You hold your breath, keeping the box in your steady as you wait for what he’s about to do next. He stares in silent question, glancing only to your lips and back up. It’s like time doesn’t even pass anymore, like a moment written in eternity when you brush away some of his hair.

You swear you’re about to kiss Lee Heeseung for the first time in your life.

Instead, you cough and duck from his intimate stare, and he pulls away. The heat of his thumb still lingers on your cheek, and the way he looks at you doesn’t go unnoticed.

“You’re feeling better, right? I’ll drive you home.”

The wind whips against your window and the streets lay bare as you turn into his neighborhood. It’s all you can do. You can’t be in love, not with Heeseung.

Heeseung texts you profusely the next day, apologizing before he leaves the house to see you in person. ‘i’m sorry if anything happened last night, please let me know if I overstepped a boundary,’ and despite his words being through text, your mouth feels like it’s dried up, and that you have no idea what to tell him. You send him something vague about driving yourself, nothing that alludes to how your heart raced and skipped a few beats, and how you still think about the gentle way he caresses your jaw.

How are you supposed to pretend things were the same? Like you weren’t watching him, like his gaze wasn’t with care, and his touches were not electric. How could you pretend that you weren’t slowly falling for Lee Heeseung?

“Did I,” He starts as he rushes through the door. “Did I do something wrong?”

Shaking your head, you continue to crush up the cookies in their topping container. “I just don’t want to bother you with driving me around anymore.”

“But you’re not a bother.” Heeseung can barely recall what happened yesterday, and he doesn’t know what caused your sudden lack of interest with your texts from the morning. “Look, ____-”

In a desperate attempt to push down your unreturned feelings and return things to how they were, you cut him off. “Heeseung, drop it.”

The day stretches for an eternity, and Heeseung knows something’s wrong. As one last chance to fix things before he goes, he speaks up. “Please, what did I do?”

And you want to oh-so desperately tell him that last night, you were about to kiss, that the distance between you two was so finite and the way he looked at you had your stomach churning with butterflies. That somewhere, you realized just how similar you two were- that Lee Heeseung understood hard work, he paid attention to the little things, he related to and comforted you in the times that you felt like you were never enough. And those are just the handful of reasons why. You never knew just how well you truly knew him until you evaluated the years you’ve spent together. Some things you pick up subconsciously; like the way he fidgets or nervously smiles when a girl asks for his number, or the way he always looks back at you when he rejects her advances. It’s weird how quickly the knots that made your relationship so complicated suddenly untangle. It’s really just this long windy string that connects you and him, and within the miscommunication, it’s gone awry.

You and him are in the same vein, and with how much time you spend with each other, it’d be criminal if you didn’t slowly fall for the way he sings along the radio or how he started to open your door. He cares, in all of the minuscule tiny ways that make your heart ache so terribly. “Nothing, it’s…” It’s almost sick how your mind immediately wanders to some stupid scenario where you and Heeseung ended whatever was going on between you two, and you admitted feelings to each other. Heeseung drives you around in his car, Heeseung comes to your house with baked goods he made himself, Heeseung’s eyes glitter when you two get good scores on a test, telling you how happy he is. “It’s just nothing.” You tell him, not really sure what to make of your feelings at all. And while your emotions towards the boy are new and fresh, they're so real- it snowballs fast.

“It’s not nothing if something’s changed between us.” He reasons, a look in his eye begging you to explain.

“It should be nothing, Heeseung. We’ve never gotten along, so what’s the difference now?” The words leave a burn on your tongue, and you hate the way Heeseung looks away for a moment before he agrees.

“Right.” He says, monotone and lifeless. “Why bother?”

And you’re angry with yourself for the way you nod, taking your things. You want to scream in his face that you’ve begun to tolerate Lee Heeseung, in more ways than one. You don’t just tolerate him- you appreciate him, you care for him, you want him to be yours.

“Okay- Hee, wait.” You falter in your decisions, your heartstrings pulling you in an enchanting way towards him- against all rational. “I’m sorry.” You can’t let a good thing go, you can’t risk never talking to him again, simply because you don’t know what it’s like to live life without him. You see him in every memory, in every class photo, and you can’t bear to be the reason you two stop talking- all because you were too scared to speak your mind.

He turns around, waiting for you to continue, crossing his arms as he proceeds to lean against the counter. If you were honest with yourself, you’d admit that Lee Heeseung is one of the most attractive people you’ve met.

“Do you mean it?” You ask, feeling foolish. He should be asking you that- after what you’ve just told him.

Heeseung takes a step closer, his gaze on the ground as he nears the cash register, slowly closing the distance between you two.

“Do you mean it?” He asks, his voice small. There’s still space between you two, and it feels like oceans apart. And you soak up his words for consideration, truly questioning if you did.

“No, Heeseung-“ You stare at the blinds, looking around the space only to realize just how secluded you two were- that no one outside of the bakery would know just what loops and hurdles you two had been through to get here. “I could never. I shouldn’t have said it.”

“Is it true, then? That we get along, now?” His slow steps finally leave the crunching of his shoes in front of you, and you nod your head. And after he sees your confirmation, he continues. “How do you feel about me, ____?”

Your surprised gaze meets his, and you see the small smile on his lips, and the almost playful look in his eye indicating that he’s not really hurt anymore.

“I hate you, Lee Heeseung.” You say, emboldened by his teasing. “I hated you for spilling all of that applesauce on me when we were eight, I hate how you get along with everyone, I hate how you act like you’re better than me.” You pause, to think of more, but his hand reaches up to cup your chin, pointing up to make sure you’re looking at him.

“I hate all that humming you do at work,” you start, your voice small, feeling shy now that he’s forced to make eye contact (which is extremely attractive and turns your legs into jelly). “Or your piping skills, or how good your macarons taste compared to mine.”

Heeseung is so dangerously close, like how you were just last night. “What else?” He goads you on, wanting to hear just how much more you have left.

“I hate everything about you,” You barely murmur above a whisper with him being so close to you. “But I’d hate it if you didn’t return my feelings, either.”

He smiles, finally hearing you admit the very things that’s been plaguing your relationship with the idea of more.

“Anything more to add?”

You scoff, reaching up and tangling your hands in his hair. The last thing that reaches Lee Heeseung’s ears are the words, “You’re so annoying,” before you crash your lips into his.

Your kiss with Heeseung satisfies a longing that’s lasted for a while- to know what it felt like to be so close to him, to kiss his rosy lips just once. It’s tantalizing- the way you can’t pull away, and the way he doesn’t let you with how his hand rests on your lower back to pull you closer. When your hold on his hair loosens slightly, he gingerly lets you lean back. Your forehead comes to rest with his as you open your eyes, letting out a slow breath as you think about the ghost of his kiss on your lips. He’s hesitant to separate from you completely, and rests his hand on your waist instead.

You smile, biting your lip so you don’t giggle like an excited girl who’s just told her friends about a measly interaction with her crush. Your heart feels like a floating balloon, and your lips stretch into a grin, prompting Heeseung to smile at you, too.

An idiot. That’s what you both look like. But when Lee Heeseung presses a small kiss on your forehead and intertwines your fingers, you couldn’t care less.

“Heeseung, stop piping heart macarons, it’s embarrassing.” He rolls his eyes at you and adjusts the piping bag with red macaron batter inside.

He mimics you childishly, and you want to scoop the lemon curd to plop on his head. “Stop piping heart macarons, yeah, okay, so why do I see you eating them?”

“I don’t. I’d never.” You’re lying, and you both know that, but Heeseung entertains your false narrative a bit more.

“I’ll have you know, the lady at the law firm a few blocks down came here earlier and ordered some of them.” He retorts. You stick your tongue out at him and continue to mix the drink you’ve been preparing.

“What does she want them for, hm? I can imagine she’s in the season of love in July.” He laughs at your childish comment, continuing to pipe out almost identical hearts onto the baking sheet.

“Maybe she loves her partner so much and wants to shower them in affection.” He grins, alluding to your relationship. You want to flick him across the forehead, rolling your eyes and walking over after finishing your drink for a to-go order.

With an elbow on the counter, you watch him from the side as he diligently fills in the heart outlines. “You’ve always liked my macarons, though.” He reminds you. “Remember? You said it when we k-“

“Can you shut up about that?” You cut him off, feeling embarrassed. “It was like- a month ago.”

It’s your exasperation that fuels him to tease you further. “It was a good kiss, was it n-“

You bump his shoulder, and he messes up one of the macarons, pausing before looking up at you. “Hey!” He whines, frowning. “These are supposed to be for that lawyer, remember?”

You roll your eyes, and you know when Heeseung lies through his teeth. “Yeah, yeah,” You mutter, using a clean finger to wipe at the edge to make it look nice once more. You play along with his lie. “And we definitely fell in love because of cupid.”

my baby is done!! as always pleaseeeeee let me know what you think!! even if it is just 'hdefhjfhds' that means the world to me!!!

reblogs are appreciated!! reblogs w comments are da best and asks !! let me know what you think NO JUDGEMENT!

tagging @sumzysworld !

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moonchild1 · 1 year ago

Text

jeon jungkook fic rec list (Ⅸ)

hi everyone wow it's really been a while and i'm on list 9 already damnnn that's alot and list 10 is like half way complete already... soooo you might notice a change in the set up this time around i liked how it looked on my ao3 list so i added it here as well, i absolutely love this list like i've gone over this list a million times it's filled with alot of fics i was absolutely obsessed with, you know how attached i get to the characters and this list holds quite a few of them too so i hope you enjoy reading them as much as i did and you fall for them too... remember to give lots of love to the authors of these fics they are absolute geniuses and deserve all the respect and love in this world for creating these beautiful fics and sharing it with us so be sure to give them a follow, like and reblog or even leave a little comment i'm 100% percent sure it would mean alot to them 🥺🖤 also as these fics contain smut no under minors allowed/interact... if you would like to share some of your favourites or just wanna ramble about fics you love send me an ask i love hearing from you guys and happy reading everyone till next time ✨🖤

a- angst s- smut f-fluff

series

dreamcatchers by @ggukcangetit f a

↬ DI Jeon didn’t need a new partner. Unfortunately, his superiors felt otherwise; especially considering the extremely high-profile murder that had just taken place in the port city. Recent transfer, DI Choi Yuri finds herself confronted with a new cityscape, unfamiliar people, a hostile partner, and a homicide that is certain to bring back unpleasant memories.

block party by @minlucent f s a

↬ moving into your new apartment brings back memories of your biggest mistake. neighbours au e2l

a little bit of your heart by @yoongiofmine f s a ft. myg

↬ you had everything you could ever dream of; the career of your dreams as a music producer, the best friends you could ever wish for, and a exes-turned-friends-turned-fuck-buddies relationship with min yoongi. you knew you and yoongi would never move past that and you were okay with it. Until a friend from your past comes back into your life, offering to give you everything you deserve, everything yoongi couldn’t. Will jungkook show you what you’ve been missing? Or will the new guy threaten yoongi enough to do something about it?

lost stars by @/yoongiofmine f s a

↬ Jungkook was lost. He didn’t know who he was anymore, so he decided to leave and find himself. But he wasn’t expecting to find you along the way, an island girl who has no idea who he is. Jungkook has a secret. But so do you. idol au s2l

secrets we keep by @/yoongiofmine f s a

↬ Being a camgirl was never your main goal in life, but when the pandemic hit and you lost your job, you were desperate. Now, two years later, the world is back to normal and you are one of the top creators of OnlyChingu; the South Korean version of OnlyFans. A website where idols hide behind anonymous profiles in search of that connection they lost during lockdown. Jungkook was never into this type of stuff. Until he ran into you. He knows you’re his perfect girl, his ideal type. Will he be able to put his own insecurities aside when chasing you? Or will you let the secrets you keep ruin you? idol au

i hate you, i love you by @jungblue s a

↬ You hated him at seven, warmed up to him at twelve, and liked him at fifteen. Now the two of you are twenty years old and inseparable best friends… and you’re absolutely in love with him; he’s in love too—just not with you.

fatal attraction by @jungcock s a ft. kth

↬ your dangerous ex-boyfriend comes back to haunt you in more ways than one. exes au serial killer thriller

pub golf by @taleasnewastime f s

↬ One night. One stupidly hot man, who just keeps appearing in every pub you go to. Six friends. Nine pubs. Nine drinks. Ten million stupid rules. Let the chaos begin. s2l

animal by @cutaepatootie f s a

↬ boxer jungkook au ANGST

things you don't know by @btsgotjams27 a

↬ It’s been seven years since you last saw the boy that broke your heart. After moving back home, you try everything you can to avoid seeing him around town, but destiny has a wicked way of doing the opposite.

entangled by @caelesjjk f s a ft. kth

↬ Jeon Jungkook is Spider-Man. He saved your life twice. But he’s also been your sweet lab partner in college for the past two years and now someone who is more than just a friend. You care about him…maybe even love him. But something tells you that you aren’t quite sure what love even is. How could you when you have feelings for someone else as well? Kim Taehyung is the handsome stranger you’ve seen around campus and somehow ended up dancing with at Club Onyx. You were upset that Jungkook had stood you up once again and Taehyung made you feel like you were on top of the world. What you didn’t know that night, is the dark secret Taehyung is trying desperately to hide, but the closer the two of you get the more difficult that becomes.

when the end comes by @oddinary4bts f s a

↬ Seven years after you've started dating Jungkook, long distance creates a wedge in your relationship. When the only solution seems to be breaking up, you go your separate ways even though love still lives in the two of you. Will you find a way back together, or has the end come for you and Jeon Jungkook?

new girl by @jjkeverlast f s a

↬ after finding out your boyfriend of 6 years cheated on you, you find yourself moving in with three guys in a loft. what could possibly go wrong?

horizon by @/sokooks f s a

↬ The way you approached life had started to break down Jungkook's emotional barriers. Jungkook couldn't deny that he was drawn to you in a way that was entirely new and unfamiliar. You had become more than just an assignment; you had become someone he genuinely cared about. It was the way you made him feel. With you, he felt more human than he had in a long time. Despite his best efforts to remain detached, his heart had other plans. angel au

searching for nirvana by @/sokooks f s a

↬ he shouldn't be here. he shouldn't be touching you the way he was- but he was here before him. he was your friend, not him. he knew your body, not him. he wanted to be the only one to touch you the way you liked. he he wanted you to remember that. despite the fact that he already had someone waiting for him. best friends au cheating au.

twelve hours by @whatifyoulivelikethat s a

↬ you have twelve hours to make jeon jungkook fall in love with you. he's about to get married. you're the entertainment at his bachelor party - a burlesque dancer. long ago, he used to be the class representative and you used to be the class delinquent. nothing has changed and, yet, everything has.

when it all... by @7deadlysinsfics f a

↬ what’s there to do when your husband says he thinks he doesn’t love you anymore? you pick up the broken pieces the best you can and try to move on

better than me ? by @/7deadlysinsfics f s a

↬ jungkook is clear on what you both are to each other. still, he doesn’t want you to think anyone else is better than him

our first and our last by @thedefinitionofbts f a ft ot7

↬ The first time you met Jeon Jungkook was on your tenth birthday. On that day, he was nothing more than the strange man who jumped into a dark portal that suddenly opened in the middle of the park. The ten year old you just stood in the grass, strands of hair ruffling from the calm breeze that swooped by; head slightly tilted, bright, innocent eyes wide open and staring at him with wonder and disbelief. There was a certain amount of confusion, but your young mind was too naïve to question his actions or what they entailed. soulmate au

dancer in the dark by @gwoongi f s a

↬ Money can’t buy you happiness. Jeongguk, for the longest time, thinks he’s happy. Truthfully, Jeongguk doesn’t know what happiness is until you find him. rockstar au

together by @httpjeon f s a ft.pjm

↬domestic!au, couple!au, stoner!au, gamer!au

hot bot by @/httpjeon f s

↬ purchasing a Hot Bot wasn’t exactly something you ever really planned on. when you do, however, it sends your life down a path of convoluted government schemes and dark secrets.

stardust by @iamtaekooked f

↬ You didn’t believe in soulmates until you lay your eyes on Jeon Jeongguk, the younger brother of your best friend’s husband. That is when you see the red string beginning encircled around your pinky and ending in his

serendipity by @rohobi f s a

↬ After you reveal your inexperienced sexual status to your best friend, Jungkook grapples with the news, startled by the idea that the girl he always thought could get anyone, is a virgin. After finding his porn at 3AM, you decide that maybe it’s about time to stain the white sheets of your world with the colors of a forbidden fruit Jungkook seems to have in the palm of his hands.

chasing shadows by @colormepurplex2 s a

↬ Your job gets you into trouble sometimes. Who would have thought crime journalism would put so many targets on your back? But, it’s happening again, someone’s threatening you. Only, this time, it’s not just you that’s in the crosshairs. Your best friend, Enola, is out on assignment and can’t help like she usually does. So, what does she do instead? She sends her brother, Jungkook, armed with a magic bag, a charming smile, and deductive reasoning skills that prove his worth as one of the best PI’s around.

I gasp once, and in that breath, I accept you in by @inkofyoonkoo f s a

↬ In which Jungkook arrives to your small town to spend the holidays, and you slowly let go of all the ghosts of your past. s2l fwb au

sweet nothing by @adonis-koo f s a

↬ Being a guest at the Jeon Estate after a mishap of being kidnapped and dragged into your brothers affairs isn’t all that bad. Truth be told it brings you a lot closer to the mobster and owner of the estate Jeon Jungkook himself. His two rules are simple, don’t cause trouble and don’t give him a hard time. Somehow you manage to constantly do both in the most endearing way despite being pregnant and waddling around most of the time.

three's a crowd by @/adonis-koo s a ft. jimin

↬ When your mom’s fairytale life begins to bleed over into your world you’re suddenly caught between two men and one big secret, what was supposed to be a relaxing trip soon begins to spiral out of control. All you wanted was a free vacation… ceo au

sleepwalking by @taexual f s a

↬ due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

empty space by @ahundredtimesover f s a

↬ It started as friendship, turned to a casual fuck, then ended in heartbreak. Turns out, he wasn’t who he said he was, and years later he enters your life again, forcing you to face all the emotions you’d been trying to bury.

OR Officer Jeon looks really hot in his uniform and you wish you didn’t hate him as much as you do.

as the world burns around us by @today-we-will-survive a

↬ You haven’t seen the sun in two years. The Virus wiped out a good three quarters of the world’s population and then the wars that followed wiped out half of that. After everything happened, it was only a matter of time before the different countries started blaming each other and emptied their nuclear arsenals. You’re still surprised Seoul survived – if you can call what it has become “surviving”

hotter than hell by @chateautae f s a

↬ jungkook, lucifer and king of hell, has been cast out of the crimson underworld for a reason he’s unsure of. embarking on his journey for the answer should’ve been easy, if it weren’t for you, the human that nurses his wounded body in her home, and accidentally witnesses the truth of his identity. kickstarting a hellish adventure with the devil himself, you discover lucifer is the most infuriating company ever; and jungkook finds out that maybe his answer to returning home lies within his annoying human confidant.

to turn a bad thing good by @/chateautae f s a

↬ jungkook’s drunken one night stand goes awry when he comes to learn not only is he being forced into an arranged marriage, but it’s to the very girl he abandoned that night—and things get a lot more complicated when you’re the best hookup he’s ever had.

J’aime by @baepop f s a

↬ You’re the newest hire at a local café and head barista Jeon Jungkook takes you under his wing.

Written in the Stars by @/baepop f s a ft. kth

↬ You’re the girl of Jungkook’s dreams, literally. The only problem: you’re taken by his best friend

make me forget by @roseannekook f s a

↬ You are the lead vocalist and main dancer of your company’s first girl group, but on the fourth promotion of your debut song things don’t go as planned. At the brink of an uprising scandal, you seek refuge in the bathroom stalls…and find it in the arms of no one else but BTS’ golden maknae Jeon Jungkook.

one of your girls by @ggukiepie s a ft. pjm

↬ fwb au college au fuck boy au inspired by the song

boy in luv by @/ggukiepie f s a

↬ just two idiot best friends in l*ve college!au, bff!jk, athlete!jk, student council president oc, cheerleader!oc

the boy who left by @/gujoonim a

↬ As your eyes staring deeply into your possible client-to-be’s eyes, something crossed your mind, it was that pair of eyes that you were looking for when you being abandoned at the aisle on your wedding day. ceo au

love sewn by @jvnghxope s a

↬ You’ve never cared about the thin-as-paper walls of your beloved apartment until Jeon Jungkook moved next door. You could hear everything –from his late-night parties on Saturday, to the quality time he spent with his girlfriend in the intimacy of his bedroom. One day, everything ceases. Days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months and you find yourself knocking his door before you can think it twice.

not yet by f s @bratkook f s a

↬ jungkook feels the pang of guilt in his gut when you spot your recent ex out with his new girl, and what better way to make the jerk hurt than to have him believe you were now dating him, the neighbor he had been insecure about your whole relationship.

one shot

blazes of deceit by @periminkle f a

↬ when the opportunity to finally venture past the stone walls you’ve grown up in presents itself, you jump at the chance to discover the origin of those mysterious lights—even if the trip comes with a harsh truth and a suspicious, yet undoubtedly attractive, tour guide. tangled au disney au

southpaw by @starshapedkookie f s a

↬ Knowing Jeon Jungkook for the better part of your life, you thought you knew everything about him. Well, that was before you two disappeared from each other’s lives at least. When Jungkook suddenly finds himself buying you a coffee to rekindle your friendship, it leads to much more than you bargained for.

house of cards by @jeonggukingdom s a

↬ What does safe mean when you are chased by zombies, when every corner you turn could be the last one for you? What do words like home and future mean when you’re always on the run and every moment could be your last? They mean nothing and everything at the same time and Jeongguk is all of the above. He is your safe haven, he is your home and he is your future. But things like that crumble easily in your world.

enouement by @littlemisskookie s a

↬ War is Hell, but it’s what you had to do to take your brother’s place. Of course, between the days of Hell are little slices of Heaven you’d call your Captain, Jeon Jungkook. mulan au disney au

miss taken by @junghelioseok f s

↬you pride yourself on being a professional, but sometimes your students' parents really test your patience. single parent dilfjk jk e2l

the ex text by @shadowkoo f s a

↬ The 2 AM texts have started again. It’s a bittersweet familiarity that you can’t run away from, and despite wishing to forget him: no one will ever measure up to the exceptional standard set by your ex, and you’ll never have anyone as good as him either. Like a permanent mark on your heart, Jungkook’s presence has become an insatiable craving, an addiction you'll never outgrow or cast aside.

the proposal by @hansolmates f s a

↬Jeon’s the editor-in-chief for Big Hit Publishings, a closet romantic with a penchant for antagonizing his assistant on the reg. When his work visa is in the process of being renewed and he takes a trip to Norway, his eligibility to stay in America is on the line. However Jeon Jungkook doesn’t go without a fight, and in order to save his job he offers you a proposal you can't refuse. based on the movie the proposal e2l

red and gold by @/thedefinitionofbts f s

↬It’s no secret that genius, billionaire, international playboy, and philanthropist- Jeon Jungkook, better known as the CEO of Jeon Industries-and even better known as Iron Man, is one of the most intelligent, wealthy, and powerful men in the world. There’s nothing that can get to him or his ego, that is, until you happen to show up and give him a run for his money.

burning bright by @snackhobi s

↬there are no secrets in the drift. if jungkook were to see the mess inside your head and heart, laid utterly bare, he’d turn away from you. based on the movie pacific rim

but we loved young by @jl-micasea-fics s a

↬Jungkook is everything you’re not, the ying to your yang. Your tight knit friendship nurtured from childhood survived the major life events that most don’t, and to that end, you suppose you’re fated to be together, until unrequited longing is eventually noticed, and boundaries are forever crossed.

the shoulder on which you cry by @lemonjoonah f s a ft. knj

↬ after moving away from your hometown five years ago, you’ve struggled on every return. each trip back being made out of haste due to an unfortunate event in your life. namjoon has always been there to help you through those moments. but when he can’t be there to support you during your current trip home, jungkook offers to stay by your side and be the comfort you need.

illusion of choice by @hobibliophile f s a

↬ You’ve grown up with the Jeons, Jungmin and Jungkook, for as long as you can remember, your parents being very close. But little did you know that this is because you are in fact arranged to be married to the Jeon heir, Jungmin. However, a tragedy causes Jungkook to take up his brother’s mantle, and that includes becoming your fiancé.

the blue princess and her red rose by @/cutaepatootie f s a

↬ After all, he was her red rose, while she was just another one of the many blue roses that grew in the dying gardens of Greyria. princess au

rigor mortis by @readyplayerhobi f s a

↬ A night out at a bar results in you going home with a young and attractive police officer. But if you think the night was something to remember, that’s nothing compared to waking up to find a zombie outbreak in the city. A chance encounter with Officer Jeon leads to him helping you escape from the plague infested city.

lowkey by @joonbird s

↬ Jungkook is the nude model for your art school’s life drawing class.

part-time lover by @sketchguk f s a

↬there is no crime more perfect than marrying jeon jeongguk. your relationship is nothing more than a ruse - while your friends pester you for being perpetually single, jeongguk desperately needs a wife to complete the pristine image of a family, fooling his way through the parent interview at the nation’s most prestigious private school. only time will tell how deep your lies will run as you find home in one another’s minds. because untangled in the moonlight, he is but a spy, exposing a secret world of corruption, and you, an assassin, ridding the streets of danger one hit at a time.

sweet apple biscuits by @rosaetae a

↬ a story about someone who receives letters from themselves ten years in the future and asks them to fix all their regrets and save a particular boy. inspired by the anime 'orange'

i'll be home by @wwilloww f s a ft.knj

↬ When your first love, Jungkook, disappeared from your village five years ago, no one thought he would return, let alone on the night of your betrothal to another man.

white lies by @noteguk f s a

↬ in which Jungkook lies his way out of and into trouble. But he can’t tell white lies when it comes to you.

yes coach by @/taleanewastime s

↬ You play in a local netball team and as a new season starts you have a new coach. Enter Jungkook, he may look soft, but he turns out to be a hard taskmaster, one who ruffles your feathers when he makes some changes to the team. Tensions grow between you through the weeks, until they finally reach breaking point.

spf 50 by @gimmeyoon f s

↬ If you have to spend your summer home from college working a job you hate, it might as well include sitting by the pool with Jungkook. Now if only kids could stop vomiting in it.

fifth wish by @jiminrings f a

↬ jeon jungkook, world-class socialite and nepotism baby, should be out every night to celebrate while he’s at his prime. why should he fake-date his bodyguard instead? alternatively, jungkook regularly throws coins to wishing wells with only one desire in mind — to get rid of you.

blacklisted by @/httpjeon s a ft. kth

↬after departing from your dom, you’re assigned to two incredibly powerful men.

↬looking for other jjk fics or the other members check out my library

5K notes · View notes

honeymoonblues · 20 days ago

Text

The One Your Friends Don't Like

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Everyone has something to say when a girl has fun with the local freak.

Word count: 2.6k

Warning: Some cursing.

A/N: I had this one on the drafts for a long time. Silly little thing. Incredibly self indulgent. I usually make my fics with a gender neutral reader, but I felt this one needed to be fem! for the sake of the plot. Please, let me know if there are any spelling errors, English is not my first language.

You had never expected it to end the way it ended.

In fact, you distinctively remember thinking no one would ever find out that you were passing notes in class. Why would anyone know?

Except Eddie Munson had a big fucking mouth. And you had a friend in common with him (sort of).

The thing was, you were bored. Badly. And the biology professor had this superpower of putting everyone to sleep with his monotonous voice. So it wasn’t intentional when your spaced out gaze landed on him. On Eddie Munson, of all people.

Your pencil fell to the floor because you got startled when he smirked at you. And then, came the little note.

His handwriting was hideous, but legible. The paper seemed torn from another class’ book. You didn’t write anything back. Instead, you made a little grotesque cartoon of the professor, which Eddie seemed to appreciate very much.

“You think Munson is cute?”

How the fuck had Vicki already found out about it by lunch, you had no idea. But you were about to find out.

“I don’t-”, you started, but she didn’t let you finish.

“He told me that you were staring at him,” she scoffed smugly.

God, you hated that expression on her. The smile forming on your lips was totally betraying you, but you weren’t about to give her the satisfaction.

“And since when are you friends with Eddie Munson?”

“He’s friends with Kate’s brother, you know Gareth,” she waved her hand around, “they’re in that, uh… club together, and a band. He’s always hanging out at Kate’s.”

Asking her not to make a big deal out of it was useless, you knew her mind was already scheming to set you two up.

“You’re dating this idiot?!”

There was nothing you appreciated more in your friendship with Robin than her honesty. Even if sometimes she was too honest.

“We’re not dating! We just, uh… hanged out once.”

“Yeah, well, be careful. I haven't heard too many kind things about him.”

Her tone softened, meaning she was trying her best to understand you.

The truth is, it had been a date, no matter how much Eddie and you acted like you were above all that sort of stuff.

His handwriting had been clearer on that one note, neater, with more thought behind it. You felt his big brown eyes on you while you read it, so you knew you had to act as cool as possible. As if him inviting you to a literal date wasn’t freaking you out. You didn’t even pass the note back, you just nodded in his direction, and he smiled while twirling his hair on his finger.

In the end, Vicki didn’t even had to set you up, Eddie asked you out himself, like a big boy (kind of).

The guys leaving the club session looked at you like you had grown a second head.

“Band practice is down the hall”, one of them snickered. That was Gareth, you assumed.

“I know”. You narrowed your eyes, holding your saxophone case a little tighter and breathing deeply. Gosh, and these were Eddie’s friends?

Immediately after, Eddie’s big eyes sparkled when he saw you outside the classroom.

“Hey, you made it”.

Like the other boys, he wore the club’s t-shirt but this one looked particularly clean. You saved your comments to yourself, though, and just smiled back.

The moments you were deciding where to go were the most awkward. You could tell that Eddie wasn’t used to talking to many girls. No matter how much of a peacock he acted like when he was in a ten-foot radius of a cheerleader.

If there was a contest for Weirdest Location for a First Date, Eddie and you would’ve won first place. You both agreed on going to the Hawkins’ graveyard. The place worked to ease your nerves, somehow.

Many graves had stories you’d heard over the years. And of course, the metalhead guy loved to hear about them, tagging on with his versions or additions to them.

The date went well and it definitely helped to fuel both of your delusions of being cool and oh, so edgy. In reality, you were just two nerds walking and laughing in an inappropriate place, while not having the guts to admit this was a date.

When the “hanging out” turned to actual dates, you knew it was going to be impossible to hide it from Robin. And you braced yourself for her reaction.

“How many times did you kiss him?”

If she'd asked a day before, you would confidently say ‘three times’. But after the makeout session the night before, it wasn’t like you could keep count of that.

Your skin crawled by imagining telling this to her, so of course, you omitted the question.

“No, wait wait! Don't answer that. I need a complete timeline: from the first date to the first kiss, to now.”

You scoffed.

“What are you waiting for? Start talking.”

Oh, she was serious about it.

So you talked, knowing there wasn’t any way of getting out of it.

She already knew about the graveyard, so there was little comment to make about it.

The words you chose were careful, though. Robin wasn’t too thrilled about Munson at all, so you had to put effort in making him look as good as possible while keeping it in the realm of possibility.

You spoke about how witty he was, but didn’t mention the fact that you held your breath the first time you walked into his room. Not that you were the picture of cleanliness, let’s be honest, but you had wondered just how long had it been since his sheets had seen the inside of a washing machine. (Not like that had stopped you from rolling around on his bed, anyway).

You talked of how he was actually a bookworm and really interesting to converse with, but kept quiet about how, just on your third date, he immediately asked you to stay the night after getting his hands under your shirt.

You told Robin about his encyclopedic knowledge of music, similar to Robin's, but carefully omitted the fact that he had bitten you despite you asking him not to. You had moaned at it, either way.

Trusting him was a hard task. Sure, maybe you were paranoid, but this guy made up stories as a hobby. And even if he didn’t, he seemed too eager to impress any girl in his vicinity to be a hundred percent trustful.

“Oh, I don't believe you.” That phrase came out of your mouth so often now, it was almost funny.

“I swear! Cross my heart and hope to die.” Dramatic as always, of course.

“Sure, whatever you say, man.”

But truths and lies weren’t that important when he kissed you so sweetly. As sweet as this brute could be. It was very endearing.

You didn’t give a fuck if that fight he was telling you about was real, or if his band was as awesome as he said, not when he pulled your hair and bit your lip in that way that made you shiver.

Let him talk, you thought, he had a cute mouth anyway.

Between nerdy conversations about Lord of the Rings or music, and heated makeout sessions on his bed, or yours (whichever was available at the time), there was always a debate that bubbled up between you two.

“Doesn’t that fuck up your brain or whatever?”

“princess, it’s 1986. Everyone smokes weed.” You had stopped fighting that nickname long ago, you even stopped cringing at it, somehow.

“Not everyone!”

“Yeah, well, it’s you and Vicki against the world, then.”

It’s not like you ever expected him to change his ways; that was stupid. But it was annoying when he expected you to just… be okay with it.

Still, he stopped smoking when he was with you —wow, what a gentleman!— and you ignored the fact that he may or may not sell pot. Closing your eyes and letting his hands wander was the best way to forget everything about it.

The sun was already setting on a beautiful Saturday afternoon when you brought it up.

“Remember how I told you Robin doesn’t like you much? Like, at all.” Your breath felt a bit shallow, you had kissed for what felt like hours at this point.

“Yeah, what about it?”

“Well, uh… It’s mostly because she told me she saw you and Chrissy Cunningham together the other day… You know, alone and everything.” Your gaze was unblinking, boring into his eyes as if you were trying to read his mind.

His blush was a little more intense than before, reaching his ears, but he didn't hesitate in answering, “I never talked to her before, Robin must have mistaken me for another person.”

Your silence must have freaked him out a bit, because he croaked a tiny “I swear!” that sounded quite pathetic, even for him.

The intention of this whole afternoon was to talk to him about being exclusive. You hadn’t been mad about the Chrissy thing, really. It wasn’t like Eddie and you were official at all. Even if he liked to make it very obvious that you were together every time he crossed paths with you at school. But now that he was denying everything? Yeah, the exclusivity thing didn’t sound so appealing to you anymore.

Because you’d lied. It wasn’t just Robin that caught him, you were there, too.

“Are you sure, Eddie? I’m not… I’m not mad about it.” But you were starting to be.

“Yes, yes! It’s funny, actually… I, uh, had like, the biggest crush on her in middle school, you know? But not anymore, princess! I don’t even look in her direction, I promise.”

You felt like you hadn’t blinked in the last five minutes.

Fuck this! You didn’t want to be his girlfriend. That was never the intention with this whole thing. You just wanted to have some damn fun for once.

“Okay…” You said carefully, “just… don’t expect Robin to talk nicely to you, okay?”

“I’m used to people not liking me, princess, nothing new.”

Your smile was tight, and the way he twirled his hair had never bothered you this much before.

“So, I heard there’s this party next Saturday...” You said.

The mirror smiled back at you after you applied your lipstick. You were already a little tipsy after the pregame at Vicki’s, but you did your makeup flawlessly in front of her bathroom mirror.

’Hot’ was the right word to describe you that Saturday, you felt confident, you looked cool, and you were definitely ready for some kissing and smooching. If you ended up in Eddie’s van? Even better.

Your friends were not so thrilled about seeing Eddie, not after the Chrissy thing, but they knew they couldn’t do much to stop you. Those were your bad decisions to make.

The party was flooding with people, and it took an absurd amount of time to find Eddie, even when he was the flashiest thing in the room.

By the time you got to him, you were way too drunk. No longer just tipsy. The unknown substance in your red cup was doing its job, and you could barely keep steady on your feet when you found yourself in his arms.

Your friends were cringing hard when you kissed him in front of them, staining his face with lipstick. He was very, very pleased with it, though. Even if he felt heavily judged by everyone in your circle.

In the end, he ended up taking you home, but not in the way you’d have liked. Because the moment you stepped outside and started to walk to his van, heavy nausea hit you with the cold air of the night,

Your vomit stained his sneakers a bit, but he didn’t complain. In fact, he had never been this gentlemanly before. Even your friends, usually very unimpressed with him, were surprised.

He made sure you drank water, wrapping you in his jacket and then drove you home, making sure you made it up the stairs without falling and tucking you in like a good, responsible boy,

“I’m sorry I ruined the night.” You murmured sleepily before he left.

“Are you kidding? You throwing up was so metal! I’m honored I got to witness it.”

He was such a freak.

You were tugging at your hair, frustrated. After just finishing it, you accidentally tipped your glass of water over all your homework, so you had to redo it. Then, your friends who were supposed to hang out at your house didn’t show up, and you had cooked for them. And while you tried to calm down with a nice hot coffee, your favourite mug slipped from your hands and shattered into a million pieces on the ground.

You needed to call Eddie. Maybe he’d help you laugh about it a little.

The phone call had been 30 minutes long at this point. You sighed, feeling a little better, but still guilty for talking about yourself and your own problems nonstop.

“I feel like I complain too much sometimes,” you chuckled.

“Princess, I know the female population, okay? They are always complaining about everything, all the time. I’m used to it, don’t worry.”

He knows the what, now?

“Eddie, what the fuck?” But the idiot kept on talking.

“Yeah, princess, it’s fine. I mean, we guys don’t give a shit about most things. But that’s just natural, you know? It’s like, biological.”

Hanging up on him had never felt so good. No goodbye, no nothing. Seriously, who does he think he is?

You needed to call Robin. Maybe she’d help you laugh about it a little.

“I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

This conversation wasn’t meant to be had over the phone, but the winter break had just started, and you were leaving on vacation the next day. Leaving this matter to stretch over time would just make it worse. You wanted to enjoy your holidays without anything weighting on your mind.

Not that he could ever convince you to stay with him, anyway. There had been a long talk with your friends about all this. And the jury had decided he should be executed out of your life. You agreed, of course.

There was only so many things one could ignore in the name of fun. And when your frustration started to surpass the enjoyment, what was the point?

He was not the type of guy you could introduce to your parents. He was not even the type of guy you could see with a steady relationship. You realized you wanted a little bit more romance than he could get you.

So you mentally prepared yourself for this phone call, for his insistence, for his endless questions, even for some anger.

“I didn’t mean to tell you this over the phone, I’m sorry.” Your voice was steady, clear, no sign of doubt.

“Oh…” Silence. And then, a moment after: “It’s okay, I get it. Thank you for these last few months.”

“Uh, Eddie-”

“Goodbye.”

You stuttered a goodbye, but it was too late, he had already hung up.

Shortest phone call of your life.

“Honey, he sells drugs. You didn’t know that?”

“Not until very recently…” Liar, liar, pants on fire.

Your friend laughed, shaking her head.

Now, your friends would have something to tease you about for the rest of your life. And you’d have all that time to pretend you didn’t enjoy his company or act like you didn’t notice what a mess he was.

And maybe he’d try to contact you again, try to get close. But you’d ignore him, walking awkwardly past him in the school hallway.

Still, he’d live forever in your mind as the one your friends didn’t like.

#my writing #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem reader #stranger things #oneshot

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yelenasbraid · 8 months ago

Text

take a breather — joe burrow

summary — its a few days after the loss to the chiefs and you and joe decide to go out for dinner. unfortunately, there’s kc fans everywhere

warnings — fem!reader, established relationship, reader gets defensive and starts gets in a fight, fluff, some suggestive comments, mean comments, implied smut

note — not every chiefs fan is like the one in this fic, i know that, but for the sake of this fic the reader interacts with a pretty mean one. also this is SO long y’all oops

THE LOSS TO THE CHIEFS was as shocking as it was devastating. for a while, you thought they were safe. you believed that the bengals would win against the chiefs, their longstanding rivalry. joe talked about how excited he was, he talked about how he was ready to take them on after the grueling practice they had.

so, when the chiefs won by one point, everyone’s heart dropped. anger and frustration swirled around in your head, the cold feeling of sadness making it a sour cocktail. it was a good game, filled with many good highlights and great plays, but you knew that joe was already beating himself up about it.

you tried your best to be there for him, reassure him and help build his confidence back up. the night after the game was the hardest, especially since you both were battling intense emotions.

flashback

the silence that fell between you was thick. you tried your best to remain neutral, to be a grounding force for joe. being home didn’t change that.

he didn’t bother speaking to you as he walked in, making a beeline for the stairs. you stopped in your tracks, trying your hardest not to cry.

“please talk to me,” you begged him softly. you knew that joe took things at his own pace, which normally meant alone. you’ve had to help him realize that he’s not alone, and that you could help share the burden.

“i’m not in the mood for talking, y/n,” he informed you, barely looking at you. you bit your lip and flicked your eyes up to the ceiling to stop the oncoming tears.

“do you want anything to eat?” you asked him, walking into the kitchen.

“no, i don’t.” he answered shortly. you nodded, and as he went to go up the stairs, you went to follow him.

“i want to be alone, just leave me alone, y/n,” he snapped, turning his eyes to you, eyes that were iced over. as much as you hated to do it, leaving him to his head, you inhaled and exhaled slowly.

“ok, i’ll be down here if you need me,” you told him, barely evoking a response out of him. so, that was that.

flashback end

joe did apologize for his behavior, swearing he was going to try his best to keep you with him. ever since that night, he’s done just that. he’s confided in you about more than he ever has, and you were proud of him for being vulnerable.

ever since that night, he’s also been clingy. he never wants you to feel the way you felt that night, the way he made you feel.

“we’re going on a date tonight,” joe announced as he walked in the door from practice. you looked up at him from your spot on the couch, raising an eyebrow.

“what?”

“we’re going on a date tonight, you know, the thing normal couples do,” he playfully reminded you. you smirked, putting a bookmark in the book you were reading and closed it. it was refreshing to see his eyes lit up, to see how he glowed with a renewed sense of hope.

“alright, where are we going, ya know, as a totally normal couple?” you played along with the joke, standing up from the couch and walking over to him.

“there’s a nice place downtown, the one we always say we want to go to but never do because of how busy we are,” he excitedly told you. seeing his smile again after the two losses was refreshing, but it also just made you fall even more in love with him.

“oh yeah, the place that apparently has really good burgers,” you smiled up at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “you asking me on a date, burrow?”

“why yes i am,” joe chirped. he was chipper, and you knew that he was taking the losses hard, but you also knew that he couldn’t feel down for long. joe knew his job for the next game, and he was going to finish it.

“then i accept,” you smirked, and in response joe leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips.

“good. i’m gonna get a shower, then the bathroom is all yours. we’ll leave around 6,” he told you as he made his way towards the stairs. his timeframe gave you about 2 hours to get ready, which was plenty of time.

“sounds good,” you replied, feeling butterflies build in your gut. despite having dated since your time at lsu, you still got butterflies whenever you and joe would go on a date. you guessed that feeling never goes away.

—

about an hour and half later, joe is dressed and ready sitting on the edge of the bed. you, on the other hand, are putting final touches on your outfit for the evening. it was something breathable, but cute. you put your earrings in and fluffed your hair. once you were happy with your look, you applied your perfume and put on your shoes.

“damn mamas,” joe commented as he watched you emerge from the bathroom. a blush crept up on your cheeks as you walked towards him.

“hope that’s a good thing,” you hummed as he stood up. he was dressed in a black button up, jeans, and platform van-type shoes.

“oh it definitely is,” he mused, leaning down and pressing a soft and quick kiss to your lips. he knew he’s been clingy, but he also knew you didn’t mind. ever since he got snappy with you, he’s never wanted to sound like that ever again. be knew there’d be losses, especially tough ones, but he needed to work on how he processed through it. he couldn’t drag you through the mud too.

“mmm good,” you hummed. it was in that moment you realized that you could stay with him all night, in that bedroom, on that bed and not go on a date. but, dates were rare during the season, and plus dates were fun. you and joey always had fun on your dates.

“we should get going, huh?” joe asked, almost sounding disappointed.

“i’m hungry, so yeah,” you chuckled, making joe crack that beautiful smile of his. you both walked out to the car, joe opening your door of course, and he got in the driver’s seat. he pulled out of the driveway and headed towards the restaurant.

—

the restaurant wasn’t packed, but it had a decent amount of people in it. the hum of conversations drew you in, but what pulled you in further was the sweet smell of food.

you two were quickly seated and ordered your drinks. you looked at the menu, browsing the different options.

“this all looks amazing,” you commented as your eyes saw a pasta section of the menu.

“if i were like, infinitely hungry, i’d get the whole menu,” joe agreed, and you snorted.

“ok, joey,” you laughed, shaking your head.

“what? think about it, if you never got full and have an infinite amount of space in your stomach, you could realistically have several meals in a sitting,” his eyes grew wide with this theory, and you loved whenever he got like this. it was the cutest — and hottest — thing ever, well, for the most part.

“ok, but what about your intestines? they’d be begging for mercy,” you replied as your drinks were settled in front of you. you ordered your choices of meals, gave the waitress your menus, and continued talking.

“ok well in a perfect world they wouldn’t be,” he replied, sass evident in his tone. you laughed, shaking your head as you took a sip of your water.

“i need to pee, i’ll be back,” you informed him, standing up from the booth.

“speaking of intestines,” he commented, earning a glare.

“that’s your bladder,” you whispered as you walked off. joe only rolled his eyes as he sipped his water. he watched as you disappeared into the bathroom, and patiently waited upon your return.

a few minutes later, he caught movement in his peripheral and he flicked his eyes over, hoping to see you. he did, but with a very different expression on your face.

“excuse me?” you seethed, your eyes wide with anger. the girl you were standing in front of had the audacity to speak ill of joe in front of you, but also to speak ill of you. in front of you.

“you heard me the first time, i said your boyfriend would have played better if he’d been getting taken care of at home,” the girl replied. it only enraged you further, especially since she had no right to be involved in yours and joe’s private life.

“and what does your boyfriend do? sit at home and criticize the guys he’ll never be?” your words were just as venomous, your adrenaline driving you even further.

“for all i care, i hope he tears a ligament again. all this hype around joe burrow needs to stop, or maybe he just needs to retire already,” she kept going, and you’ve never seen red before until that moment. this girl had no idea the rehab joe went through, the mental blocks he had to overcome just to get to this point.

words weren’t enough to voice your anger, the rage that fueled you. you laughed, allowing some of that tension to release, but also because you thought it was hilarious some random woman was criticizing joe burrow.

you took a step towards her, your hands curling into fists. you saw what joe went through, you knew of the dark place he went to after his injury. she didn’t, and it pissed you off that she wanted him to go back there again.

“i hope he has another season ending injury, so for once, other teams can have a chance and stop listening to bengals fans’ whining,” she continued on, and the more she did, the more her words added fuel to the fire. it was the final thread in a rubber band, and you snapped.

you shoved her away from you, your eyes hard and angry. you went for another, your muscles tensing to make sure this one hurt, but strong arms pulled you back. you knew it was joe because of his scent wafting over you, but you didn’t much care.

“don’t you dare,” you growled, fighting against the hold joe had on you. your hands tried to pry joe’s arms off of you, but your attempts were futile. what distracted you for just a moment was the feeling of his muscles rippling under his skin as you went to shove him off.

“i bet you got scared when that helmet came off, huh? well, i wasn’t,” she kept mouthing off, and you knew she was doing it on purpose. she wanted to see how far you’d go.

“it’s nice to say that when your team gets paid by the refs to win games!” you hissed, body tensing with every word. neither of you were going to back down, and joe could see that. he’s never seen you this angry, he’s never seen you go after someone like that.

“walk away, love,” he calmly told you, whispering in your ear. he moved to stand beside you, using one arm to hold you place instead of two. you strained against him, anger radiating from every pore. your straining made him eventually wrap his other arm around you again.

“y/n,” he looked down at you, and even though you weren’t trying to plow through him, you weren’t exactly backing down. it was admirable, really, how you went to war for him. you didn’t have to, but you did. you would defend him until your dying breath, even though he never asked for that. he just didn’t want you to get hurt.

“listen to your boyfriend y/n, this is a fight you’d lose anyway,”

“you’re not helping,” joe snapped, turning his eyes towards the girl. she didn’t seem to get the memo, not entirely caring that joe was addressing her. you, however, did notice. the way his jaw was clenched, the way his muscles were contracted, it was hot.

“why’s that?” you retaliated, anger still coursing through your veins. joe was trying to keep you from getting away from him. it wasn’t helping that the other girl kept moving towards you.

“because, unlike your boyfriend, you’re too pussy to fight anyone,” she was so confident it killed you. you managed to slip out of joe’s grasp, lunging for this girl, but joe caught you by the bicep. he drew you back, pressed a firm hand to your chest and walked you back.

“that’s enough,” he sternly told you, thankful you were walking with him. your eyes flicked to meet his, just for a moment, and in that moment you were the most turned on you’d been that whole day. feeling his hand firmly but gently guide you back, hearing the sternness in his words, it made that all too familiar ache begin to take hold in your stomach.

that feeling didn’t last long though. your irritation and anger came back the second you made eye contact with the girl again, wearing that obnoxious red jersey. you wanted to say something back to the girl, but no words were coming to your mind. your emotions were all over the place as joe walked you back. you watched the girl as her own group walked her away. they should’ve done that earlier.

you two left the restaurant, and once you were alone, you slipped away from joe’s grip.

“what the hell was that?” joe asked, now facing you, “i have never seen you that angry,”

“you heard what she said! she-she was saying all of these things about you, about how she wished you snapped your ligament again and retired! i couldn’t just let that slide!” you argued back, your adrenaline still on a high.

“you could have! people say stupid shit!”

“i saw what you went through! i’ve seen you rise above it, i’ve seen you grow and to have her laugh in the face of that is disgusting!” you defended, tears now pooling in your eyes. you watched as he processed, and you felt a tear drip down your cheek. there was a beat of silence. joe sighed, walked up to you and wiped the escaped tear with the pad of his thumb.

“you didn’t have to defend me, but, thank you for doing so. as much as i appreciate it, and don’t mind at all seeing you get fired up, i just don’t want you to get hurt,” he hummed, cupping your cheek with his hand. you sniffled, feeling your body crash from the adrenaline rush.

“i know,” you exhaled, “but next time we play the chiefs, we need to pummel them into the ground,” you sniffled, and joe just chuckled, bringing you into his arms.

“we will,” he promised, kissing the top of your head, “were you really scared when my helmet came off?” he asked, and you looked up at him in disbelief.

“yes, i was terrified,” you admitted, burying your head in his chest. you knew the likely hood of a concussion increased just because he played football, but you knew how scary they were. you’ve heard of too many players who’s seasons ended because of a concussion, or even worse, their lives ended.

“i’m ok, i promise,” he assured you. as he held you, his remembered the look you gave him earlier in the restaurant.

“what was that look for earlier?” he asked.

“what look?” you mumbled against his chest.

“that look, the look you give whenever you’re feeling a certain way,” he answered, causing you to part from him. he didn’t miss it, how could he? he’s seen that look several times before, but he’s never seen it in this context.

“oh…”

“oh what?” he chuckled, watching as your cheeks flushed.

“it’s nothing, just pure emotion,” you lied. you were feeling a number of things, and arousal was just one of them.

“you liked that, huh?” joe gave you a cocky smirk, the kind that could get you into trouble. his tone didn’t help either.

“oh leave me alone,” you playfully shoved him, walking towards the car. he wrapped his arm around your waist, kissing the side of your head.

“i would be lying if i said i wasn’t also turned on,” he hummed in your ear, breaking the hard exterior you had on.

“is that so?” you mused, casting a look up at him, “remember how it feels to not be sore, love, because after tonight you will be,” you hummed, your eyes darkening with desire. your tone sent him into overdrive, not to mention your confidence. he wasn’t sure if he was going to make it home or not. he wouldn’t be necessarily complaining if he didn’t.

he was in for a long night.

YOWZERS this is long. not sure how i feel about it BUT it’s probably the longest one i’ve written, so c’est la vie. but what inspired this was joe holding back ja’marr at the game on sunday and i went crazy with it. enjoy!

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagines #joe burrow imagine #nfl imagine

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jnnul · 1 month ago

Text

tokyo 1988

a/n: oh my god. everything hurts. when i say that this fic took it all out of me...i mean it. i learned as much from this fic as i healed. love is never easy and first love especially is so difficult. but there will always be a way to get up. special thank you to hua @polarisjisung for reading this monster of a fic and loving it with me! quick note: feedback, comments, etc. GREATLY encourage writers! if you felt any sort of way (in a good or bad way!) about this fic, pls leave feedback!

word count: 29.5k (i'm so sorry...)

tags: girlboss neuroscientist!y/n x her resident!riki x ex!jungwon, she's a complicated one, lot to be learned and a lot of hurt to be experienced there’s a lot of soul searching in this one, i poured my heart and soul into this please love her the way i do warnings: mentions of sex, alcohol, death, pregnancy, family trauma, relationship trauma

[tokyo, 1988]

you stand outside the tokyo international airport, rubbing your shoulders to bring some warmth into them. you knew to bring a thicker jacket but somehow, it had completely slipped your mind when you left seoul.

of course, you were otherwise occupied when you left so leaving behind a jacket was really the least of your concerns.

your gaze strays upward as you wait, looking at the downcast skies and quite threatening clouds. they’re angry and a deep gray that makes you more and more sure that it was going to rain soon.

you’d forgotten your umbrella with your coat. of course.

you check the watch on your wrist sullenly as you continue to wait. it was already half past two, meaning that yang jungwon was a good twenty minutes late. which would be concerning, considering how punctual the man was, but for some reason, you can’t bring yourself to be upset with him.

it’s hard to be mad at someone you’d been in love with once - no matter how it ends.

just as you’re about to head back inside to make a phone call to jungwon’s office to get a hold of him, an unfamiliar toyota pulls up to the curb of the airport pick up area. jungwon rolls down the window and your breath catches in your throat when you see him.

he’s a little bit more masculine than he was from your memory. a little more filled out, with more muscle than baby fat that had all but melted off of his body. he’d grown out his hair a bit, long enough that he had to shake it out of his eyes. his eyes were a little more tired but still full of life, just as you remembered.

“long time, no see,” he quips, offering you a slight smile - one that you reciprocate.

“it’s only been four years,” you point out as he exits the driver’s side to help you load your bags (the only two that you had) into the back of the car.

when he’s shut the door to the backseat, he turns to look at you and you suddenly realize that he’d somehow grown even taller. you hesitate for a moment before stepping forward, and jungwon envelopes you into a gentle, tender hug.

“a lot can happen in four years, y/n,” jungwon says softly into your hair. you don’t say anything, not trusting your voice to speak without giving way to the tears threatening to slip from your eyes. but you know he knows by the way his grip on your frame grows just the slightest bit more firm before he lets you go.

you try not to think about the implications of the fact that it almost physically hurts to see him pull away, as he took his warmth with him.

jungwon opens the passenger side door for you, closing it gently when you’ve sat down and settled in your seat.

he pulls out of the airport pick up area, merging onto the highway with ease - as though he’s done this many times before. he’s gotten used to tokyo, with the winding roads and the traffic that far exceeds seoul’s own traffic. your heart grows tight in your chest before you remind yourself that you’ve lost all right to feel anything anymore.

“have you told hyewon that i’m in tokyo?” you ask after a couple minutes of jungwon driving in silence. jungwon hesitates before nodding.

“yes. she knows you’re in tokyo,” jungwon concedes. you sigh, leaning back into the seat.

“i’m sorry i couldn’t make it to your wedding,” you say. jungwon just shakes his head as he takes an exit off of the highway.

“it’s alright. i’m sorry to hear about your grandmother,” he says and you just turn to look at the scenery outside. there’s a slight drizzle as you and jungwon drive through the busy streets of tokyo that slowly morph into less busy residential areas.

“she missed you,” is all you have to offer in comfort. jungwon sighs, closing his eyes when the car rolls to a stop due to the traffic.

“i’ve missed her - and your grandfather - too,” he confesses and somehow, the words bring more sadness than happiness that jungwon still cared for the past that the two of you shared - even if he didn’t care about you as a person anymore.

“i’m sorry.” jungwon stares at the road in front of the two you with a particularly confused look and you know that the look is meant for you.

“for everything,” you continue, pressing forward with your eyes focused on the landscape outside, not once looking at jungwon, who sounds as though he’s about to protest. “for not coming to the wedding. for not telling you about my grandma. for not explaining anything before i called because i needed a place stay. for not being a good girlfriend while i had you. and - and for still loving you even when i have no right to anymore.”

jungwon is silent, and you know you’re not being fair to him at all. but jungwon is the one person that you’ve always been truthful with, even when it’s not fair and you know it’s not fair. because he’s the only person you’ve ever loved and quite possibly the only person you will ever love.

“it’s not your fault,” jungwon promises.

he puts the car in park as you pull up to a standalone home near the outer ring of the city.

somehow, the fact that he’s not upset with you the same way that you were upset with him makes you want to cry just a bit more.

you get out of the passenger seat once jungwon unlocks the door, hesitating before stepping out.

the house is nice - especially considering how expensive homes were this close to the city. it was two stories tall, with a well maintained lawn and a couple of rose bushes that lined the path to the front door. the entire house was white and gray, painted a color that was muted but somehow still lively against the dark tokyo skies.

it was picture perfect. just like jungwon.

and jungwon and hyewon’s marriage.

“come on, y/n,” jungwon says, carrying both of your bags. he’s standing at the point where the driveway gives way to the entrance of the home and for some reason, you want to take a picture of him like this. in front of this perfect home, looking every inch the man you’d fallen in love with as a young woman.

maybe you could look back at the picture later, pretending that it was your house that you’d bought with jungwon. if you closed your eyes shut tightly and tried hard enough, you could imagine browsing houses until you found one that you and him both like. you could imagine making sure that the neighborhood was connected to a good schooling system for your future children. you could imagine waking up in bed next to jungwon everyday, knowing that it wasn’t a luxury to be able to do so because he was the man you’d married.

you open your eyes.

jungwon is standing in the entrance of the doorway turned to look at you, where jo (yang, you have to correct yourself) hyewon is standing with him, watching you.

[seoul, 1982]

“what would you do if we broke up?” you asked, playing with jungwon’s fingers. you already knew what jungwon’s answer would be but you can’t help the question anyway, needing to hear it from him.

“we’re not going to break up,” he said gently, shifting to look at you but you continued to stare up at the sky, watching the stars twinkle in the dead of the night. you’re not supposed to be on the rooftop of one of the college lecture halls with him like this but you figured that if you weren’t rebellious in the last few months of college, you’d never get the chance to do it again.

“but if we did,” you persisted, letting him weave his gentle and calm fingers with your own restless ones. “what would you do?”

jungwon was silent, the same way he was every time he was in deep in thought. it was one of the things that you loved about him the most; jungwon never said anything lightly or just for the hell of saying it. he was always so soft and gentle, thinking every word through before putting it out into the universe.

“i don’t know,” he confessed finally. he turned to look at the stars with you. “i don’t know what i would do. but i do know that i would never be the same. i don’t know if i could ever live a life without you, y/n.”

in that moment, the world felt so big and yet all yours.

now, you knew it was just the foolishness of young lovers but at the time, it just felt like the truth. you’d taken jungwon’s presence, his love, and all of his patience for granted at the time, thinking that it was an infinite resource that you could always call upon.

it wasn’t until you were forced apart by fate that you realized just how silly the notion was.

[tokyo, 1988]

the interior of jungwon’s house is nearly as perfect as the rest of him. there’s cozy furniture placed tastefully, every inch the comfortable and inviting home. the dark wood of the house contrasted with the emerald green accents and the occasional gold decorative piece made the entire house look incredibly put together and well thought out. an elegant balance between a cozy look and and an expensive taste.

“hyewon picked it out,” jungwon says from behind you. you nod, swallowing down any bitter words as you try to offer the younger woman a sincere smile.

“it’s very beautiful,” you manage, a little bit softer than you were hoping. hyewon is silent for a moment, a habit you know she’s picked up from jungwon, before a small yet hopeful smile spreads on her lips.

“i’m sure you see a lot more impressive people at work,” she says shyly, and you feel a tight squeeze in your chest when you realize just how young and sweet she is.

“being a doctor seems a lot more fancy than it really is,” you cough drily, forcing a smile when you see that hyewon’s seems to have faltered, receding into her shell a bit. “but it is really special to be able to study the brain in ways you never would’ve expected.”

at this, hyewon seems to perk up once more, seemingly enthused that you held no contempt for her.

you honestly didn’t. nothing that happened between you and jungwon was her fault. and while it hurt that she was living the life that you’d wished for so long was your own…it really wasn’t her fault. as much as you might hate the circumstances of your arrival back in jungwon’s life, you really couldn’t hate her.

“y/n, why don’t you go ahead and take a shower in the guest room? the flight to tokyo might be short but i know how much you hate not taking a shower the second you get home,” jungwon offers, head inclined towards the interior of the house - where you assume the guest room is.

you hold the bag in your arms a little closer to your chest before smiling sadly. “i don’t get that paranoid about not taking showers as soon as i get home anymore. there’ve been a few too many times i’ve collapsed without showering after a twenty-four hour shift at the hospital.”

jungwon falters, and almost as if to search for comfort, his eyes drift to hyewon. your heart feels tight in your chest when he does. there’d been so many times that he’d done that with you. when you were the person he sought out amongst people he knew and loved, just because he knew he would always be the most comfortable with you.

“but,” you choke out, clearing your throat. “i should take a shower this time. it seems that it’s the time of year where everyone has a runny nose and a cough.”

the tension in jungwon’s shoulders melts in just the slightest as he nods, and you follow him further into the house. of course, the entire house is decorated similarly to the living room, with all dark wood paneling and…heated flooring?

“you have heated flooring even outside the bedrooms?” you ask incredulously, examining the warmth that seemed to be radiating beneath your feet. jungwon laughs sheepishly before opening one of the doors next to the kitchen area, leading you into the guest bedroom.

“hyewon gets cold pretty easily so we decided to get heated flooring installed everywhere for the colder months,” jungwon explains, depositing your bag at the foot of the bed. you hum in understanding before your eye catches on a specific painting faced away from you, so that you would see it laying in bed but not when entering the room.

you draw closer to it, breath catching in your throat as you recognize the painting.

“it’s the one you painted for my birthday,” jungwon says gingerly, and you nod, the lump in your throat not allowing you to verbalize your inner thoughts.

“i didn’t think you’d keep it after - after we broke up,” you confess and jungwon shrugs, looking at the painting with you.

it’s a simple painting. it’s just a crude painting of an emerald jewel that you’d painted after taking a painting class with jungwon in college. you’d always promised that you would show your magnum opus that you’d been working on for the entirety of the course to him when it was finished, finally presenting it to him on his birthday.

when he asked you what it meant, you’d cited his own words.

“we’re not going to break up. so this emerald is meant to represent our love, since emeralds symbolize deep, unconditional and everlasting love.”

the irony of the situation is not lost on you as you stare at the painting until the emotions inside of you overwhelm you to the extent that you feel like you can’t even breathe properly, forcing your head away from the painting.

jungwon coughs before turning away as well, padding over to the other end of the room, pushing a door open to reveal the attached restroom.

“feel free to use anything in there,” jungwon mumbles before rushing out of the bedroom, leaving you there, alone, with nothing but your racing thoughts and beating heart.

“thanks,” you whisper to no one particular, a cold loneliness setting in your bones - even with the heated flooring.

[incheon, 1981]

“who’s most likely out of all of us to get married first?” lee heeseung wondered aloud, slurping from his ramen. there were six of you huddled around a campfire, bundled in blankets and warmed up by the ramen that park jongseong had boiled for all of you.

“logically, it should be you, heeseung, since you’re an old fart,” park sunghoon said, twisting away when heeseung threatens him with the lid of the pot that the precious ramen was resting in. “but honestly, probably jungwon and y/n.”

you and jungwon shared a shy look before turning away, huddling closer in the much too thin blanket that heeseung had brought.

“nah, it’s probably going to be jay and sumin,” you pointed out. it was then your turn to evade death by ramen pot lid, ducking into jungwon’s warm embrace when jongseong (who’d gotten the name ‘jay’ due to the time he spent in america before his family moved to seoul) started wielding the pot particularly intimidatingly.

“we’re only twenty-three years old!” bae sumin protested, but you see her leaning further into jongseong’s embrace, and it was clear that she wasn’t all that put off by the idea of marriage.

“so? my mom and dad got married and had me by the time they were twenty-one,” sunghoon snorted and you and jungwon had twin expressions of alarm on your face.

“i’m twenty-one, sunghoon and i’m nowhere near having a child!” jungwon exclaimed, and you nodded. while marriage wasn’t completely foreign to the two of you, with you having established that having a career set in place was most important (the path to becoming a doctor was a long and tiring one), you inevitably had to push back any plans of marriage for later than perhaps most couples who’d dated as long as the two of you.

after all, dating for six years was usually an experience that people heeseung’s age were more likely to have rather than your own peers as juniors in college.

“yes, but by the time that y/n gets into medical school and jungwon’s in a good place for his job, you’re going to be around twenty-four? maybe twenty-six if jungwon goes to military service right after college?” jay pointed out, finally putting the lid back on the ramen pot instead of wielding it around like a shield.

“heeseung will be his late twenties by then,” sunghoon sniggered and heeseung rolled his eyes, taking another slurp of his ramen.

“i’m only going to be twenty-eight or twenty-nine. i don’t know why you guys make me sound like an old fossil,” heeseung said sullenly, shaking sunghoon’s hand off of his back when he rubs his back in a part sympathetic and part sarcastic gesture.

“you already are an old fossil,” sumin joked, joining in on making fun of the oldest friend in the group.

the rest of the night was more fun at the expense of heeseung, the ramen pot lid being tossed from person to person to prevent decapitation at the hands of the enraged eldest.

you and jungwon hadn’t said anything at the time, just sharing a sweet smile and all too thin blanket.

[tokyo, 1988]

“when do you start work?” jungwon asks from across the dinner table. hyewon’s laid out a korean dinner filled with all of your favorites - almost like your grandmother did for you when you lived in the house she’d shared with you, just two months ago.

staying in the house that you had been born in and your grandmother, the only parental figure you’d ever had in your life after your grandfather died three years prior, died in was far too much for you to handle, which is why you’d all but uprooted and ran away from seoul with little formality as soon as you could.

it’s funny, how something as simple as bulgogi can shake even the strongest of minds, taking them back to memories that they’d prayed to move past.

you thank hyewon when she hands you a pair of wooden chopsticks that have a design engraved into them, shaking you out of your thoughts. they were a nice pair of chopsticks; not just a random pair of chopsticks that you give to guests for a single use. the knowledge that one of them had bought you a pair of nice chopsticks in case your stay extended long enough to need them makes you feel strange.

“i technically start on the fourteenth but i have to go in on the twelfth to get some paperwork in,” you explain, waiting for hyewon to sit to begin eating.

“do you need a ride to work?” he asks, reaching over the table to deposit some rolled omelette cutlets into his bowl, smiling up at hyewon when she does it for him instead.

“uh, yes, i would appreciate that. at least until i buy a car,” you say softly, eyes fixed on your own plate, unsure of if you really had it in you to look up and see more of their intimacy.

“that reminds me,” jungwon begins, taking a bite of the omelette once hyewon’s also sat down next to him. “there are a couple of dealerships near hyewon’s school. we can all go together after i pick up hyewon from office whenever you’re free.”

you nod, chewing on a spring onion slowly. “sounds good with me. i was planning on going on the twelfth so you won’t have to be driving me around for more than a week.”

jungwon waves you off. “it’s not a bother for me. the hospital is owned by the university that hyewon’s doing her masters at so it’s not out of my regular route.”

“you’re doing your masters?” you ask hyewon, who’s been silent throughout the meal. hyewon seems to be startled, as though she had been checked out completely before she nods belatedly.

“yes, i’m doing my masters. i worked for a couple years but i realized that i wasn’t really getting promoted because i’m a married woman and because i don’t have higher education,” hyewon elucidates. jungwon opens his mouth to say something - undoubtedly to comfort her by saying that the sexism of those around her was not an accurate representation of her caliber but you beat him to it.

“you’re a smart and talented person, hyewon. higher education just gives you a certificate to prove it but i’m sorry that people don’t want to acknowledge your talent without a simple, largely useless piece of paper,” you say, voice steady and clear. hyewon pauses mid-bite and jungwon also freezes, his chopsticks halfway between his bowl and his mouth, his omelette slipping from his chopsticks and falling into the bowl.

they exchange a look before hyewon smiles - a real, genuinely touched smile.

“that means a lot coming from you, y/n,” jungwon says and you know he means it in more than one way.

the rest of dinner is relatively quiet, with hushed requests for one dish or another but for some reason, it finally feels as though the tension in your shoulders has started to melt and you feel like you can take a breath of fresh air.

after dinner, hyewon decides to retire early, leaving you and jungwon to do the dishes, even though both of them protest heavily.

“what kind of host would i be if i let you wash the dishes?” jungwon complains, physically trying to nudge you away from the sink with his hip but you ignore him, starting to move the various dishes into little containers once you find the correct cabinet.

“i’m living in your house as an uninvited guest until i find a house of my own, jungwon. i can’t take advantage of your hospitality,” you chide, snapping the lid of the tupperware open to line up the leftover cutlets inside.

“please don’t feel like a guest or feel uncomfortable. you moved to a new country and we’d love to make your move as easy as possible,” hyewon says, having changed into sleep ware as she unscrews her water bottle to fill it up with hot water she’d heated up before heading upstairs.

you just shake your head as you stack each filled container on top of each other, moving the emptied dishes into the sink. “i won’t feel like a guest and please don’t treat me like one. think of me as long lost family, if that makes you feel better about me doing the dishes.”

jungwon frowns as he sets the washed dishes into the dishwasher next to the sink to let them dry. “i’m not letting you do the dishes, y/n. but i will be very thankful if you could put those containers in the fridge.”

hyewon just watches as the two of you work in tandem, slipping into a familiar rhythm as she turns around to head back upstairs, her water bottle still empty and her heart feeling as though it was going to beat out of her chest.

[tokyo, 1988]

hyewon wasn’t unaware - not of your history with jungwon. he’d been very open about his past and only previous relationship with you and had told hyewon very early into their relationship. she knew about how you and jungwon had been friends for years before realizing that perhaps there were more than just platonic feelings for each other. she knew about how he’d asked you out during your first year of high school at the suggestion of his friends, park sunghoon and park jongseong.

neither of them had come to jungwon and hyewon’s wedding - only lee heeseung and bae sumin.

hyewon knew about how the two of you dated for eight years before breaking up due to various reasons. she knew about the wreck jungwon had been after breaking up with the girl who was his first love, best friend, and inspiration to work hard all during the breakup. she knew about the eight months that hyewon and jungwon had tiptoed the line between friendship and something more when jungwon moved to tokyo, a year after you and him had broken up.

she knew that he told her that he fell in love with her at first sight but he was carrying so much guilt from everything from his past relationship that he couldn’t cross the line in good consciousness until hyewon crossed it for him. she still remembers the look in his eyes when she kissed him as he was rambling about how he wasn’t good enough for her and that she deserved someone who wasn’t such a mess. god, he was so in love with her that it almost breaks her heart to realize how long it’d taken for her to really understand that look in his eyes.

so when jungwon told her that you were moving to tokyo after the death of your grandparents, hyewon thought she was okay. she had all the facts laid out in front of her and she knew that jungwon, while he would always hold a soft spot for you, was no longer in love with you anymore. she knew all of this as a fact because jungwon had promised that he wouldn’t open their doors for you if hyewon was even a bit uncomfortable with the idea that you would stay with them for however long it took you to get on your feet in a new country.

he told her, in words that were a lot more gentle and less charged, that the year of marriage that the two of them shared was a lot more important to him than the eight years of love and eleven years of friendship you’d shared with jungwon.

so yang hyewon had said that she was alright - that she wanted you to stay with them as long as you needed to.

but when you appeared, stepping out of jungwon and hyewon’s red toyota, somehow hyewon lost the quiet confidence she’d had previously. not her confidence in jungwon. not when the moment jungwon parks the car, and perhaps even before, his eyes begin to search the entryway of their shared home for her, drinking up the sight of her the moment she opens the front door.

it’s when you step out of the car with so much grace, so much poise, carrying yourself with a sense of regality that hyewon cannot begin to emulate. that’s when hyewon starts to lose confidence in herself.

you’re elegant, with every step you take filled with a self-assuredness that hyewon knows only comes from having been battered down by the world in every way possible and still getting up every time. your blouse was pressed neatly, tucked into your slacks as though you’d walked off a ralph lauren runway, rather than the runway of an airport.

your hair is perfectly pulled back into a low but neat ponytail, mascara smudged ever so slightly so it gives you a touch of humanity rather than looking messy. your eyes are analytical but still full of warmth when you look at jungwon - whether you realize or not.

and then you looked at her, and you’re skeptical. of what, hyewon’s not sure. maybe of the way she looks? her age? the way that she carries herself? her clothing? suddenly, hyewon feels like an awkward teenager again as she looks down, examining her body.

she’d gained a bit of weight after finals last semester, prone to late night meals after spending too much time studying. not so much that she felt she’d changed drastically, but hyewon can clearly see that there’s more fat around the circumference of her thighs than she remembered there being. her clothes are wrinkled at the ends of her shirt - not so much that it’s obnoxiously obvious but for some reason, hyewon feels as though you were able to see right through her and at all of her flaws.

see how she was just a young woman fumbling through life, trying to prove to the entire world that she was capable of being a career woman. it feels like it’s just not possible, though, when she knows that you’re a doctor (a neurologist, at that) and that you’re everything that hyewon wishes she was. intelligent, strong, brave, hard-working, elegant, and somehow, the right amount of detached and attached from and to the world.

for some reason, for some explicable reason, hyewon wants to prove herself to you. prove that jungwon was in good hands, even if you’d broken up with him. she wants to prove that even though she was two years younger, she was still mature enough to be included in every conversation. that she was able to hold her own household - one that included her husband.

and then you enter the house, saying that the interior was beautiful and suddenly, everything makes sense to hyewon.

hyewon was guilty. she felt guilty that she’d gotten all of the blessings in her life at your expense. at the expense of your relationship with jungwon. at the expense of your happiness.

she wanted to prove that she was worthy having everything that you wished for. just as you had everything she had wished for.

and as jungwon holds her to his chest, his other arm running through her hair gently, hyewon can’t help the tears that stain his satin pajamas - something that jungwon chooses to keep to himself, just holding her even tighter.

[seoul, 1987]

“i’m sorry man, i just really don’t think i’ll be able to make it to the wedding,” sunghoon said over the phone, tucking the cup of the phone into his shoulder as he pours two mugs of coffee.

“is everything alright in seoul, sunghoon? jay called me yesterday and told me that he’s not making it either,” jungwon said over the other end. his voice sounds grainy, somewhat choked up but sunghoon couldn’t tell if it was because of the connection or because of the emotion in his voice.

“i really am sorry, jungwon,” sunghoon said simply, sliding over one of the mugs to where you were sitting at his dining table, stretching the cable of the phone thin as he padded over to the table and then having to spring back before he pulled the phone box out of the wall.

jungwon just sighed, and sunghoon felt a pang of guiltiness in his chest before jungwon spoke again, sounding almost defeated. “it’s alright. i just - i won’t have half of my friends on the biggest day of my life. i just always wanted to have all of you here with me but i understand that life doesn’t work the way we want it to sometimes.”

he was silent, perhaps waiting for sunghoon to change his mind and retract his statement but when sunghoon didn’t say anything either, he just whispered a soft goodbye before the phone clicked, indicating he’d hung up. sunghoon put the phone back in the phone box before slipping into the seat across from you, where you were sitting, a blank look in your eyes.

“i wouldn’t blame you if you go,” you said softly, never looking up from the inky recesses of the coffee you were sipping from. sunghoon reached over, covering your hand with his.

“i’m not going because i don’t agree with what he did, y/n. not just because of your - history with him. that wouldn’t be fair to him and it really wouldn’t be fair to you either,” he said, patting your hand gently before lifting his mug to his lips, retracting his hand from yours.

“he did what was right, considering the situation, sunghoon,” you protested, but your voice was weak even to your own ears.

sunghoon thought for a moment, shaking his head when he came to his own conclusion. “no. he didn’t. leaving you when your grandfather had just passed was not right, no matter what you try to say.”

“sunghoon, you’re not being fair,” you tried to say but it was clear that your words were falling on deaf ears.

“he could’ve postponed going to tokyo, even if you guys had already broken up by then. we were all friends even before you guys started dating. it’s ridiculous that he forgot that conveniently,” sunghoon said, and your gaze grew concerned when you realized that his grip on the mug had turned his knuckles white.

“don’t do that sunghoon. maybe that was his way of trying to get over everything. a fresh start in a fresh place. grandpa was always fond of jungwon, like a son. it must’ve been hard on him and he moved to a new country while he was mourning the loss of a father figure.” sunghoon was silent and you knew that no matter what you tried to say would’ve been moot to him - sunghoon had always been like an overprotective older brother towards you and had been the first person to draw lines between you and jungwon when you broke up. your first ally.

“you’re too kind to him.”

“i love him.”

sunghoon shook the hair out of his face, looking at you with a strange expression as he analyzes your words carefully.

“you love him?”

“i can’t help myself. i’ve spent twelve years out of twenty-six being in love with him.”

[tokyo, 1988]

the drive into downtown is surprisingly less awkward than you’d expected it to be. hyewon and jungwon are engaged in quiet conversation in the front and you’re left to dissect your own thoughts in the back, feeling as though you’d be intruding on a private conversation if you were to listen to them speak.

like an uncomfortable guest in a cozy home.

you shift in your seat, watching the skies turn from pinkish-orange to blue as the sun rises in the sky, later than you’d expected, shocked by the inky skies when the three of you had piled into the car twenty minutes ago. it seemed like the sunrise was even later than it was yesterday, when you and jungwon had headed out together for you to complete your paperwork at the hospital.

“y/n, you’re the first one on route,” jungwon says, turning onto a smaller street off the main one. you nod before realizing he couldn’t see you and coughing out an, “alright.”

“my classes are over at three and jungwon gets off of work at six o’clock,” hyewon explains, twisting in her seat to meet your eyes. “when do you get off of work today?”

you sift through a couple of papers that you’d been handed yesterday to learn your schedule before starting your rotations today, squinting as you read when you would be ending today. “today…i get off at three o’clock.”

hyewon hesitates before speaking, clearly not having discussed what she was about to say with jungwon. “would you want to go to the dealership with me before jungwon gets off work? it’s not too far of a walk from the university and it’d be good to look at your options before finalizing a car. unless - unless you already have a car in mind?”

for some strange reason, there’s a funny feeling in your stomach when you hear hyewon lose her confidence as she speaks and it’s plainly obvious that jungwon senses it too when he glances at her out of the corner of his eye.

“i have a few models in mind but i’d love if i could get a second opinion before i get a third,” you say as gently as you can, trying to make it obvious that this was as close to an olive branch as you would be able to extend.

hyewon hums in satisfaction and turns back around, but not before you see the shy smile on her lips. jungwon meets your eyes through the rearview as the car draws to a stop in front of the hospital and as you set foot outside the car, he nods.

thank you.

you tug your bag over your shoulder, stuffing the other papers you’d been examining into the bag somewhat haphazardly as you head into the hospital, not once turning around to watch the car drive off into the distance.

the hospital itself is much larger than you’d thought it would be when you first arrived yesterday, given that it was a sister hospital to the hospital you’d originally been working at had shifted you to as part of the fellowship program you’d applied to.

everything is white and glass, looking as though it’d been pulled straight from the future, with top to bottom glass windows and various, streaking pillars of sterile white that supported the entire hospital.

you fumble with your keycard as you pull it out of your bag, flipping it upside down once or twice before finally figuring out how to swipe it through the glass gates that separated the employee entrance from the rest of the hospital. you tuck the keycard into your bag before rushing through the gates as they start to close on you, letting out a sigh as you manage to make it through.

“it was pretty confusing on my first day too,” a voice says from behind you. you turn around to confront the new voice, only to have your gaze continue to travel upward as you come to face an extraordinarily tall man, who looks at you with a cheeky grin.

“i see,” you say simply, turning back around. the man doesn’t seem too discouraged however, reaching out from behind you to press the up button as you wait for the elevator to arrive.

“my name is riki. riki nishimura,” the man continues and you turn around once more to get a good look at him. he’s tall, dark, and every inch the type of beautiful that makes you a little nervous. the type of beautiful that an elegantly carved dagger might be - dangerous and yet so captivating.

he has dark hair that’s strewn across his forehead in a carefully calculated way so that he still looks put together and yet so casual at the same time. angles draw the harsh lines on his face, with a sloping nose and a gaze that makes you feel like he’s reading you inside out. but all of his lines are somehow softened by his lips, which are full and…currently moving, sounding out words that you most definitely have not been listening to.

“the elevator’s here,” the man - riki - is saying when you tune back in and you turn in horror to see that the elevator, in fact, is very much open and the doors are about to close in your face when riki’s hand shoots out to prevent them from closing. you rush inside abashedly, scolding yourself internally for being so caught off guard.

this wasn’t the first time that you saw a pretty face and most certainly wouldn’t be the last time you saw a pretty face. that didn’t mean that it was alright to stutter and trip over yourself every time you did, and for the elevator ride up to the ninth floor, you’re completely silent, chiding yourself for acting so immaturely.

“ladies first,” riki says, extending his arms in an almost overly gentlemanly way. you just bow your head in his general direction before hurrying out the elevator, turning to enter the neurology department’s office, only to belatedly realize that riki had not only not gone the other direction, but was actually patiently waiting for you to enter the office so that he could enter behind you.

you clear your throat, willing yourself back into the composed, analytical version of yourself you’d grown so accustomed to before opening the door to the office, not bothering to keep it open for riki.

there aren’t many people in the office, you notice, as you enter. there are a few very tired looking interns and residents who are scattered throughout the office, with majority of them taking power naps on the long table at the far end of the office or filling up yet another cup with coffee from the coffee machine.

you duck your head forward to see if you can catch sight of your little office from here, only to rear backwards when riki moves directly into your line of sight.

“are you dr. l/n? the new neurology fellow?” he asks, his hands tucked into the pockets of his white coat. you nod, attempting to side step him to make your way to the office but riki stands in your way once more.

“i’m sorry, can i help you?” you ask, shifting so that the bag sat a little more comfortable on your shoulder. riki watches you for a moment - a moment that makes you feel more nervous than you care to admit - and then he shakes his head with a grin.

“you’re spearheading the biomedical research on the new study on neuron death, right? and it’s relation to age and lifestyle?” he asks and your heart for a sinks for a split second as you realize why exactly his face had struck such an impression on you (or at least enough to render you speechless long enough to nearly miss an elevator).

“you’re my resident for the next three months,” you say drily and riki’s grin grows even cattier, if that was even possible. “i was told that you’d be showing me around the hospital today.”

riki offers a mock bow before straightening up quickly when he realizes that the other people in the room have started to brighten up from their fugue state at the presence of a new doctor.

“i’ll be showing you around the hospital and the laboratory facilities. and i’ll also be at your beck and call for the next three months - you’re the only doctor at the university of tokyo’s medical hospital studying synapses and i’m the only resident who’s on any of the neurology research related rotations,” riki explains, looking all too smug as he does so.

you hum in understanding before turning to him with a question swimming in your eyes. “there’s so many residents in here. how are you the only resident on the neurology research rotations?”

riki finally steps out of your pathway and the two of you exit the main office to walk through the hallway to your office (which was the size of a broom closet, much to your delight) in tandem.

“they’re all first year residents so they have to go on all of the rotations. i’m a second year resident, so i get a little bit more control over the specialties i work in. not to mention that neurology research is a fairly difficult area of specialty to get into in the first place,” riki says as you stop in front of your office, pulling out your keycard to swipe into the small office, trying to keep the wonder off your face at such advanced technology when the lock to the office clicks open.

“i see,” you say absentmindedly, dropping your bag on your chair as you draw the blinds open, pleasantly surprised by the view, as you were greeted with the view of tokyo’s streets filled with people embarking on their own journeys.

“i hear that you’re the youngest doctor to be conducting neurology research,” riki says, making you aware (as if you could forget) of his presence in the cramped room.

“korea’s system is a bit different from japan’s medical system,” you say, turning back around to start pulling out the necessary papers from your bag.

“i think you’re being too humble,” riki smirks, folding his arms over his chest. “i read your file, you know. wanted to see who would be taking over such a big research project. that was when i saw that you graduated at the top of your class in medical school and that you’d already published research as a medical student, two years earlier than other students. and then that you’d finished your speciality residency in two years, meaning that you’re the youngest fellow at our hospital.”

you blink, genuinely taken aback at the amount of research that riki has done into your academic history. “uh…i didn’t know any of that was publicly available information.”

riki just smiles, fingers tapping his arm as he watches you carefully. “it’s not.”

you frown, but before you can ask riki what the hell he means by that vaguely ominous statement, he slinks out of the room - presumably to check in at the computer in the front of the office, leaving you bewildered and somewhat worried in the room.

you take a deep breath, pulling out more papers when your eyes fall on jungwon’s signature on one of the forms.

emergency contact: yang jungwon.

a pang of guilt runs through your body, a dull ache like thunder after lightning, and for some reason, you can’t bring yourself to even begin to wonder where the guilt came from.

[seoul, 1983]

jungwon held your hand tightly between two of his own, tears threatening to escape from his eyes as he sat in the chair that he’d pulled up to the side of your hospital bed. sunghoon stood at the foot of the bed, frowning as he examined your state.

he’d just returned from military service a couple days prior, excited to see his friends (other than jay and heeseung, who he was forced to see everyday in the military) after making his rounds with his family, only to have to rush to the hospital in shock after jungwon called him that morning.

“sunghoon? hello? sunghoon?” jungwon had warbled out, immediately striking fear into sunghoon. in all the years that he’d known the younger man, sunghoon could count on one hand the number of times that he’d heard jungwon be that concerned.

“jungwon? what happened?” he said, already rushing to the entryway of his apartment to grab a coat from the coatrack.

“y/n - she - she’s been working so hard lately because she’s doing research and she’s just started her first year of medical school,” jungwon said, it’s only then that sunghoon realized that he’d completely misread jungwon’s emotions. while there was definitely concern swimming in his voice, he could finally hear the sheer panic that jungwon was facing.

“jungwon. where are you?”

“at the hospital. y/n’s medical school called me, saying that she passed out. sunghoon, i’m her emergency contact.”

sunghoon tried his best not to show his displeasure on his face as he watched jungwon, who had his head down, buried into the hospital bedsheets.

“i’m her emergency contact.”

for some reason, jungwon’s words kept running through his mind like a never-ending chant as sunghoon tried to think. it wasn’t the words themselves. no, the words themselves were…fine.

it was jungwon’s tone. the way that he sounded like he was somewhat in disbelief that he would be your emergency contact. the way that he almost sounded…unhappy? no. no, jungwon would never feel unhappy. he simply wasn’t the type to sound unhappy about anything that was related to you - or at least, as far as sunghoon was aware.

so what was it? what was it that was rubbing sunghoon in all the wrong ways?

it’s only when you finally woke up, two hours later, promising jungwon that you wouldn’t work yourself that hard again, that sunghoon finally realized what exactly was wrong about the whole situation.

it was jungwon’s panic, as if the reality that you cared about him more than he could ever realize, had just set in.

and somehow, sunghoon had a feeling that it was a reality jungwon wasn’t ready to face.

[tokyo, 1987]

“jungwon, please,” hyewon cried, reaching out to try and hold onto jungwon’s hand. jungwon stood as still as a statue, and for a moment, hyewon thought that he was going to shake her hand away, that he would cringe from her touch. but jungwon relaxed as she coaxed her hand into his, and it looked like all of the fight left his body as he slowly sank to the floor.

he looked up at hyewon, who was seated on the couch, watching him worriedly with eyes filled with unshed tears. jungwon closed his eyes, letting himself cry freely and hyewon falls to the floor, gathering jungwon in her arms as she cried into his hair.

“i’m sorry. i’m so sorry, hyewon,” jungwon sobbed, clutching at her tightly, as though he was scared that she would disappear if he didn’t hold onto her.

“it’s okay,” she whispered softly, tucking his head under chin as they sat, kneeling on the floor.

“it’s not, hyewon. it’s just not fair. it’s not fair to you because it’s not fair that i’m still crying about y/n when i just married the woman of my dreams less than a month ago.”

hyewon remained silent, knowing that jungwon needed to spit up all of the guilt that had turned into poison, sitting deep inside his soul, to finally get better.

“it’s not fair because i loved her so much. i loved her so much that i thought i was going to die when she broke up with me. i - i knew that we weren’t perfect, that there were so many things that came in our way at the end of our relationship. but i thought that we would get past it. we’d made it eight years, and i can’t help but think that if i had just made it past those last eight months, we would’ve lasted.

“and i just feel so frustrated with myself because i cannot believe that i’m even saying that because if things had actually worked out, i never would’ve met you when you’re the single best thing that has ever happened to me, hyewon. the day that you changed your name from jo to yang, i swear to god, i thought that it would be okay if god decided to take me from earth that very second because at least i’d die the happiest man on the planet.

“but - but there’s a part of me that i just can’t understand. did - did all of those eight years mean nothing? did i even love y/n like the way i thought i did? i did at some point, because i wouldn’t have been so broken when we ended our relationship…right? but if i loved her then and that was true love, then what is this? and if this is true love, then what was that? is my doubt the real reason why we broke up? then will i be the cause of destruction for our relationship too? it’s my fault that i couldn’t introduce you to my friends - the friends that i’ve spent half of my life. i’ve destroyed every single relationship i’ve ever made for myself. maybe…maybe you and i - ”

jungwon never finished his sentence, his rambling mind given a pause when hyewon pressed her lips to his, firm and so sure of herself.

and between salty tears and apologies, jungwon finally learned how to forgive himself.

[tokyo, 1988]

you’re unsure of what to say, what to do when hyewon finally meets your eyes.

“why the hell would you tell me that, hyewon?” you ask, unable to keep the anger from staining your tone. “what could you possibly achieve from telling me about the intimate details of your marriage?”

your voice is soft but deadly, and yet hyewon sits, unfazed by the sheer venom in your voice.

“i couldn’t sleep these last few weeks,” hyewon confesses, holding her books closer to her chest. you look at her incredulously.

you’d just come back home after a grueling week at work, where you were meeting people that you didn’t particularly care about meeting, fending off riki’s double-meaning words, and trying to figure out how the hell anythingworked in japanese hospitals. where you were hoping for some quiet, perhaps some peace of mind, hyewon had asked you to follow her upstairs, into her and jungwon’s shared bedroom.

jungwon wouldn’t be back for another two hours, so you had been confused on why hyewon wanted to speak with you and hyewon’s recollection of the first month of marriage with jungwon was certainly doing a very poor job of helping you understanding anything.

“i’m really not following what you’re trying to say, hyewon. i’d be very thankful if you could just tell me,” you say gruffly, and hyewon looks at you strangely, as if you were the weird one for not understanding her intentions.

“i haven’t been able to sleep for a week - not because i was worried that something would happen. i see the way that you look at him, you know. i know that you still love him, and it’s so incredibly heartbreaking to see you love him so much because you need to know that it’s just not worth it.”

hyewon’s words feel as though as she’s struck you with something very large, very heavy and very painful as the wind gets knocked out of you.

“it’s not worth it? what’s not worth it?” you eke out once you manage to find your voice.

hyewon looks at you with sad eyes, an unreadable expression on her face. “loving him this much, now, isn’t worth it. maybe it would’ve been worth it back then, when you spent night after night working at the hospital instead of spending time with jungwon, but you chose to prioritize your career.”

“are you seriously saying that because i chose to become a doctor, my relationship with jungwon failed?”

hyewon shakes her head rapidly, almost as though she was begging you believe her. “no! no, that’s not what i mean. i mean…jungwon thinks that the reason that your relationship didn’t work out is because of his own doubts that you didn’t love him as much as he loved you. and there’s some stupid, dark, twisted part of him that won’t admit it but i know that it was because he felt insecure. all the doubt, all of the complaints about the long hours at the hospital, all of it came from his insecurity and i know that because i love him so much, i want him to be the proudest person on the planet. i want him to always hold his head up, being the most perfect person in the room and - and i just want him to be happy with himself.”

you’re shocked into silence, unsure of what to say - or if there even was anything that you could say at this point.

“and i’m telling you all of this because you love him so much that you keep loving this vision of him that you’ve glazed over in rose-colored glasses, holding onto a love that only exists in the past. and it’s just not worth it, y/n. you’re everything that i’ve ever wanted to be and i can’t bear to see you look at jungwon like that,” hyewon says, tears streaming down her cheeks.

you gulp, trying to force down the lump in your throat painfully. “like what?”

“like you’ll never be able to love anyone but him ever again.”

you sigh, turning your head so that hyewon wouldn’t be able to see you cry, brushing away the tears in your eyes as quickly as they form in your eyes.

“why are you telling me this, hyewon? all of a sudden? two weeks after i’ve been living in your house? are you telling me this because you want me to leave? what do you want from me? are you trying to see if i’m going to try to steal your husband? what do you want that i could possibly even give you?” you manage to eke out, trying your best to keep your emotions out of your voice.

“i want you to know that you might not have jungwon but you have so much,” hyewon says, slipping down from the bed to sit next to you on the loveseat on the other side of the room. “and that what you went through with jungwon’s parents was the same i went through. maybe that my career, or my profound lack thereof, was the reason why they pushed jungwon to marry me, even though we had only been dating for a year. that his insecurity about your career wasn’t jungwon’s issue alone, but the thoughts that his family had been shoving down his throat - but you already knew that.”

you laugh, a dry and grating laugh that sounds bitter even to your own ears. how could you forget? how could you forget the way jungwon’s mother had tried to convince you to quit medical school when your grandfather brought up marriage for the first time with the families? the way that jungwon’s father had turned his nose up while your grandmother bragged about the seventy-eighty hours a week you’d spend studying, working, or in class? the way that jungwon’s bright eyes clouded over with doubt at some point, whenever you brought up the future?

the way that sunghoon had been silent the whole time that you’d been in the hospital during your first year of medical school, slipping out quietly when jungwon asked you why you made him your emergency contact, a look of anger and sadness on his face.

“i still don’t know why you’re telling me any of this,” you say, looking up at the ceiling to physically push the tears in your eyes back to where they came from.

“because even though it’s so much easier said than done, you need to fall out of love with jungwon. you’ve gone through so much in your life and if there’s something that i know about you, it’s that you deserve to be happy. and you’re never going to be happy stabbing yourself with a double-edged sword of heartbreak. you deserve to heal, y/n,” hyewon says, mimicking you as she looks up at the ceiling.

“why now, though? why are you telling me all of this now?”

“i don’t know. i’ve always been a patient person but i just felt like i needed to tell you. it was eating me up day and night for the past few weeks. i just - i just thinking that maybe if my older sister was still alive, she’d be a lot like you. and i’ve never wanted her to be anything but happy.”

“you want me, your husband’s ex-girlfriend, to be happy? the one that i’m sure your in-laws have been completely defaming for the past two years? the same one that happens to be living in your house without paying a cent of rent?” you ask, and this time the laugh in your voice sounds just a tad bit less sad than before, more shocked than anything else.

hyewon smiles through her tears, shrugging. “i’ve learned that anyone my in-laws don’t like is someone that i should definitely go out of my way to talk to.”

“how rebellious for the princess,” you say sardonically, and hyewon turns to you with a nostalgic melancholy written plainly on her face, seemingly not having picked up the dryness in your voice.

“my older sister used to call me princess,” she whispers, voice full of adoration, and it’s clear that hyewon’s older sister was an important figure to her - wherever she was. you turn to her, and for the first time in two and a half months, you feel as though there’s something that’s keeping you tethered to the ground beneath your feet. someone to keep you tethered.

“i’m sure your sister would be so proud of the way her younger sister has grown,” you say, turning away when hyewon starts crying even harder, trying to hide her tears from you, and you two sit there for almost an hour, just trying to be okay with not being okay.

[tokyo, 1988]

“are you avoiding me, dr. l/n?” riki questions, leaning against the inside of the door to your office, having had stormed into your office quite early in the morning as you sit at your desk, looking through some previous literature.

“i’m not even avoiding my ex-boyfriend that i live in the same house as when his wife told me that i need to fall out in love with him because she wants to see me happy after twenty-eight years of sheer tragedy,” you respond, not even looking up from your papers. “not to mention the fact that i quite literally can’t buy a house right now because i’m not a japanese citizen so my ex-boyfriend and his wife are my sponsors in this country so i can buy a house in another two months - even though this country colonized mine just forty years ago.”

“uh…i don’t know if you’re being completely serious about that or not but i hope you know that i personally don’t (and didn’t) condone the japanese colonization of korea…” riki says, his usually suave demeanor giving way to his genuine worry. you crack an ironic smile, looking up at him finally.

“i’m not avoiding you, riki,” you counter, setting down your pen to give him your attention. “and i’m being completely serious. although…i’m not sure why i told you any of that.”

riki hums, ducking to see if anyone was looking into your office before sitting down in the chair across from you. “i haven’t been in the lab for the past week.”

“you haven’t?” you ask sarcastically. “i never realized that my only resident never showed up to work.”

riki rolls his eyes before checking his pager to make sure that he hadn’t been paged before leaning forward in the chair.

“it took some threatening but i heard from dr. watanabe that you’ve been scheduling me conveniently on his rotations more often rather than your own. that sounds like you’re avoiding me,” riki points out and you shrug, neatly stacking the papers in front of you into piles.

“i hear you’re considering neurosurgery as the speciality you want to declare next year - dr. watanabe is one of the best neurosurgeons this department has to offer. i figured you might want to get as much exposure as possible before you go ahead and grab a scalpel,” you explain drily but riki’s gaze doesn’t soften in the slightest, jaw tight as he watches you.

“i’m considering neurosurgery. i might also want to go into neurology research too; i don’t know how i’m supposed to make an informed decision if i only have enough information about one career path because my fellow keeps pushing me away,” riki says and for a split second, your movements pause at the iciness of riki’s tone.

“i’m sorry riki. as your fellow, i thought i was doing you a favor so that you’d be able to make decision towards a cooler profession,” you confess, eyes soft and tone gentle, as though you were speaking to a petulant child - and this only serves to piss of riki even more.

“i’m twenty-seven years old, dr. l/n,” riki says after a moment of silence. “if i felt a certain way about being scheduled on your rotation, i am more than capable of saying so.”

“i’m glad to hear that, riki. i’m sorry for overstepping,” you say, attention diverted to the articles in front of you once more, completely oblivious to the grim line that riki’s lips were set in. the caring tone of your voice should convince riki that you might be shedding some affection on him but it’s not the caring warmth of someone who loves another.

it’s the type of care that a babysitter might offer to the child. like the affection between a young child and a daycare worker. platonic, mentor-like, and just far too coddling.

he watches you for a couple more seconds before getting up suddenly, the squeak of the chair when he does so resounding through the tiny room, startling you enough to accidentally mix up a couple articles.

“dr. l/n, you may be the brightest person in the room when it comes to neurology but…” riki never finishes his sentence, shaking his head as he leaves the room, leaving you just as bewildered as you always seemed to be in his presence.

[tokyo, 1988]

“hey, you guys know my cousin? the korean one?” one of the residents said excitedly, waving a piece of paper suspiciously as he spoke.

“uh, the hot, married way too soon one?” riki asked, flashing the resident a smirk when he groans.

“yes, hyewon. anyway. she told me that we’re getting a new fellow from korea,” the resident continued. riki yawned, looking around to see if the line for the hospital cafeteria had reduced enough for him to go and get lunch.

“…and she’s SO hot, i actually think i got a nosebleed when i snatched this,” the resident said, taunting the other men around him by hiding the piece of paper from them, which riki belatedly realized was likely this hot new fellow’s application.

riki snatched the paper from him, ignoring the protests from the resident as the other men crowd around him, and immediately, a gasp seems to echo through the four of them. and riki couldn’t even blame them.

dr. l/n, y/n. god. even your name was gorgeous.

his eyes traveled down the paper at lightning speeds, trying to soak up every piece of information he possibly could before he eventually lost grip on the paper that everyone else was trying to snatch away from him.

“she’s hot and she’s smart? we’ve got to keep her as far away from riki as possible,” one of the other residents joked, merely laughing when riki glared at him.

“i can’t believe that riki’s playboy antics are going to cross international borders,” the first resident snorted, rolling his eyes when riki’s eyes stare daggers into him.

“all of you need to shut up,” riki muttered, and the men finally seemed to register riki’s displeasure with their joking because the clump broke up as the men took their seats.

“why sleep with seven nurses in the same hospital if you didn’t want the reputation of it?” the resident said, stuffing the paper back into his coat pocket. he’s about to say something else (which most likely would’ve led to his death) but he was interrupted by his pager going off, groaning as he gets up to throw out the rest of his unfinished lunch.

“is it true that you actually slept with seven nurses?” one of the other residents, one who still has a bit of shine in his eyes, asked before leaning back when riki raised a very critical eyebrow.

“i don’t know who the hell started that rumor but i highly doubt that spreading lies like that led to too much of a laugh,” riki replied simply, and some of the men groaned, upset that the rumor of the neurology resident stud was untrue.

“you’re lowering our street cred, riki! if people find out that the rumor isn’t true, then no one is going to want to join neurology anymore!” they bemoaned but riki just ignored them, getting up to finally get his lunch since the line had grown so short.

but every step riki took to the lunch line felt like his legs were made of cinderblocks as he kept thinking about the beautiful doctor on the paper. not only was the doctor drop-dead gorgeous, but also well studied and extremely accomplished for only being a year and a few months older than riki.

he sighed as he dug his hands deep into the pockets of his white coat. there’s no way a woman like that could ever fall for him, he decided finally. no matter how riki portrayed himself, he was well aware of his capabilities and his capabilities seemed to lie exclusively in falling for women who wouldn’t even look at him twice.

granted, there weren’t that many people who fell in that category in the first place, but that made riki’s predicament even worse.

y/n.

something about that name, that face everything made riki feel as though his entire body had been doused in cold fire.

it was confusing, invigorating, and frustrating all at the time. little did he know that it was only to get more confusing, invigorating, and frustrating, just with your mere presence.

[tokyo, 1988]

“dr. l/n!” you hear someone call out behind you, and you slow your pace as you turn to meet the person who’d called for you. you’re face to face with a man that you’ve grown quite accustomed with over the past few weeks in your time at the hospital, and it’s clear that he’s had to speed up quite a bit to catch up with you by the way he’s perspiring just the tiniest bit when he reaches you.

“dr. watanabe,” you greet, adjusting the strap of your bag over your shoulder. dr. watanabe flashes you a crooked smile, running his hand through his hair.

“dr. l/n,” he says and you look at him strangely, even with a hint of a smile threatening at your lips.

“you already said that line,” you remind him and this seems to snap him out of his stupor as he shakes his head.

“right. sorry. brain fog,” he explains as the two of you start making your way to the revolving door. “i’ve learned that a neurosurgeon should never do more than three surgeries a day to keep from going a little loopy.”

“i’ll keep that in mind?” your voice lilts upwards, as though you were asking a question rather than making a concrete statement.

“right. you don’t do surgeries. sorry. brain fog,” he repeats as he pushes the first panel of the revolving door so it would be easier for you to push your own, given how heavy the doors were.

“is there anything you wanted to speak with me about, dr. watanabe?” you ask once the both of you are standing on the other side of the revolving doors.

dr. watanabe shoves his hands into his pocket before shaking his head, and then nodding, moving his head in circles from the conflicting motion. you watch him with a bemused expression before a small laugh escapes your lips, clearing your throat to regain your composure.

“i’ll get going then?” you say, feet pointing towards the parking garage you stationed your brand new toyota everyday. dr. watanabe’s hand reaches out, as if to physically stop you before he retracts it quickly, shoving deep into the pocket of his coat.

“i just - i just wanted to ask if you maybe wanted to get some drinks?” he asks, blinking his eyes quickly (due to what you presume to be nerves). noticing your hesitation, he adds, “it’s with the entire neuroscience department! or the ones who are either fresh grads or young residents, anyway.”

“oh, i’m not sure…” you trail off, checking your watch. but for some reason, hyewon’s face flashes through your mind and you look up at dr. watanabe, who’s looking at you as though you’d physically hung the sun in the sky yourself, an uncharacteristic shyness for someone so intelligent.

“i understand if you’re busy, dr. l/n,” he says softly and you bite your lip, debating your options when your eye catches on riki, who’s looking at you from the other side of the glass, an unreadable expression on his face as he watches you.

“no. i’m not busy - and please. call me y/n,” you say, smiling up at dr. watanabe, who returns a megawatt grin as he tells you to also call him by his first name.

“here, the bar’s not too far away from the hospital (which is honestly a safety concern, now that i really think about it) so you can leave your car here. also, you can’t have more than a drink if you’re driving back but you can leave your car in the parking garage and i can drop you off at home if you drink more than one drink over an hour,” haruto rattles off as the two of you start walking in the direction that you presume the bar is. you nod along, tucking away the important information as you walk. of course, you weren’t planning on having more than a drink (or staying longer than one or two hours) so that wasn’t much of an issue but it was still kind of haruto to look out for you.

it was strange that he cared about your safety as much as he did though - whether out of just politeness or gentlemanly tendencies or even a crush that he’d happened to develop of the course of mere weeks and few conversations outside of neurology was still yet to be discovered.

in fact, it was very surprising that dr. watanabe of all people were to invite you to this gathering. out of everyone in the neurology department, you were closest to riki, due to working with him nearly every day for the last month. so the fact that this invitation had been extended by haruto rather than riki was surprising to say the least.

“dr. watanabe - i mean, haruto…is it alright if i invite riki too? i really don’t know anyone besides him and you, of course, but i’d hate to occupy your attention the whole time,” you explain, finding an answer in the intention behind dr. watanabe’s actions when he bristles at the mention of the younger man.

and riki said you were oblivious to things. you can’t help but turn your nose up a little bit, proud of yourself for not being out of the realm of worldly desires for so long you forgot what it was like to have someone like you.

huh. have someone like you. that, you were no stranger to. have someone like you back. that…it’d been a long time since you’d felt that.

you wait for haruto to mumble out an, “of course - i love riki!” before hurrying back inside, where you see riki pressing the button outside the elevator door to go upwards through the glass.

you fumble with your keycard, which you’d tucked deep into your bag, thinking you’d no longer need it for the day, cursing when you see the elevator door open through the employee’s entrance.

you rush through the door, hurrying to stop the elevator from closing on you but you groan in despair when the elevator doors close before you even get within three meters of it. you sigh, a bit too tired too really contemplate your uncharacteristic behavior (you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had the energy to run for anything) after nearly twelve hours of running experiments in the lab.

you’re about to turn around to rejoin haruto, somewhat dismayed, when the doors slide open, bringing you face to face with riki.

he doesn’t say anything, just looking at you with those piercing eyes, a sense of mirth swimming through them as he watches you take deep breaths to regain your balance. and somehow, you can’t find words to piece into the situation, as you watch him from the other side of the elevator. you watch as the doors are about to shut in your face before riki takes one step with those long legs so that he’s outside of the elevator vestibule, far too close for comfort.

his chest nearly presses against your own as he waits for you to acknowledge your behavior - or at the very least, say what you chased him down to say.

but instead, you just look up at him, unsure if you could find the right words to offer to him, tired and every bit confused of what exactly you were doing. it felt as though your brain was fuzzy, filled with cotton instead of brain matter and its a feeling that instills a deep seated panic in you.

this was riki. the boy - man that you saw more of a younger brother than anything else…right? a mentee? a student? definitely nothing similar to siblings, if you really think about it. but…what? why was it that suddenly, being this close to riki made you feel like taking too deep of a breath was too intimate?

you couldn’t remember the last time you felt this way. had you ever felt this way? reckless and confused? utterly flummoxed by the person opposite from you?

you don’t get an answer to your own question as riki just smirks, cocking his head.

“let me grab my stuff and sign out,” he says, not once breaking eye contact with you.

he steps back into the elevator, and even with the distance between you now, you still feel like you’ve just run a marathon with how short of breath you are - all the way until the elevator doors close in your face.

you turn around, your back hitting the wall rather roughly as you try to catch your breath.

something about it all makes you feel as though every single nerve in your body had been set on fire and then doused in icy cold water soon after.

[seoul, 1980]

“you really think that this is a good idea?” you questioned, ducking under the umbrella that jungwon holds out, shielding you from the pouring rain.

“does it matter? we’re only twenty and stupid once, y/n,” jungwon reminded you, smiling when you nearly tripped into his embrace.

“true…so what does being twenty and stupid mean to you right now?” you asked, looking up at him, drinking up every single inch of perfection that jungwon always reflected.

“in this moment?” jungwon whispered, leaning in so close, you can see the individual water droplets that are starting to collect together from where he’d gotten soaked running to get you an umbrella. “it means we finish the soju in your apartment. sumin is staying at jay’s place tonight.”

“how do you even know that?” you retorted, inevitably smiling when jungwon presses a rather deep kiss to your lips.

“because jay asked me if i have any spare condoms,” jungwon snickered and you gasped, looking around as though anyone would be outside your apartment complex at two in the morning, eavesdropping on your conversation.

“jungwon! you can’t just say things like that!” you reprimanded him, but to no avail, clearly, when jungwon just ignored you to clasp your hand in his tightly, running straight through the cutting rain to make it all the way from the convenience store your apartment complex faced to your apartment building.

“but i just did!” he called out over the rain and you couldn’t help the shy grin that twists at the corner of your lips. it wasn’t often that jungwon acted like that - like a normal twenty-year old instead of an old man, as you so often teased him for acting like. jungwon always acted as though he was well into his forties and always spoke as though he’d had at least three lifetimes of experience before he’d even hit fifteen years old. it was usually endearing and definitely fit into the slow, innocent love that you and jungwon shared.

but the way that jungwon looked at you in that moment made you feel as though your entire body had been doused in gasoline and then set on fire. there was something different in his eyes - something that you hadn’t seen in the past four years that the two of you had been dating.

a hunger that you’d only dreamed of in the most private of your dreams but never really seen in your kind, sweet, calm boyfriend.

even the way he had one arm wrapped around your waist, and you could feel the intensity of his gaze on your back as you looked determinedly forward, almost too nervous to look back and see what exactly you were faced against.

the way that jungwon had been tapping his foot, waiting for you to unlock the door to your apartment with uncharacteristic impatience as you fumbled with the keys.

the way that his clothes got your own as wet as his when he presses you up against the door of your apartment the next second that you manage to click it closed.

the way that he grasped at every inch of your body in a way that wasn’t foreign or unwelcome but in a way that made you feel as though he was burning your skin with every touch.

the way that he made you gasp as his lips started to lead downwards - further down than you’d ever remembered them going.

the way that it suddenly felt suffocating for the two of you to be in so many clothes.

the way that you felt absolutely complete and satiated in his presence.

[tokyo, 1988]

“you’re being cruel, y/n. come on, we all know each other way too well and you’re already a bottle of soju in and you won’t even let a single secret loose!” one of the residents cries from the other side of the table at the restaurant all of you were seated at.

you laugh, waving the overenthusiastic resident off. little did he know that you were about half a shot of soju away from absolutely word vomiting about everything you’d ever done in your entire life - starting with all of the secrets you’d sworn never leave your little box of ‘cannot ever share’. but you’re glad that night after night of drinking yourself nearly to death whenever you’d crossed the legal limit for hours you could work a week had allowed you to perfect this poker face you had going on.

or rather, a very precarious grip on your lips.

“i’ve told you a lot about myself,” you laugh, ignoring the protests of those around you. namely, you very determinedly ignore the way riki is staring at you out of the corner of your eye and the way haruto is slumped over pitifully on your other side.

“you’ve told us that you’re twenty-eight, a neuroscientist, and that you want to adopt a dog. you’re not exactly revealing world class secrets here,” another resident points out and you can’t help the drunken giggle that escapes you.

if there was one thing that you were good at, it was keeping your mouth shut. which made the fact that you told riki the real situation you were faced against early into your working partnership all that much more compromising for your sanity but that would have to be an issue when you could stand on your own feet without teetering over as a drunken mess.

“what else do you want to know about?” you hiccup, smiling at riki when he passes you a water bottle, still determined to keep from looking him straight into his dark, probing eyes. somehow there’s a pool of fire in the pit of your stomach that takes you back eight years but you just can’t place the time or the feeling exactly.

all you know is that if you have any more alcohol and you do make direct eye contact, all sense of propriety and decorum would be going straight out the window. and you did not have the confidence to keep it from doing so.

“tell us about your first love!” the original resident calls out from the other side of the table and the entire table immediately erupts into a series of cries and protests (the two women present, who were thankfully more on your side) and wolf whistles (wildly inappropriate and incredibly drunken behavior from the rest of the twelve or so men barring haruto and riki).

“you think that such a big secret will come out just like that? come on, dr. y/n. take a shot and at least slip us half a secret or so,” the other most proactive (read: drunk) resident retorts, sliding over a shot glass filled to the brim with soju.

“you’re telling me that i have to take a shot and i have to spill a secret? how drunk are you guys?” you laugh, pushing back the shot glass. the table groans, having failed to get their mysterious new fellow to spill her guts but somehow you find that the shot glass has made its way back to your side of the table.

you look up, and you regret it for just a moment when you see just how deep riki’s gaze is when you meet it. he pushes the shot glass just a tad bit closer to you, a challenge hidden in the way looks at you and with a sense of absolute lack of control over his sobriety. or perhaps, that was just the way that he looked, with the red blush that dusts over his cheeks and the way his eyelids are heavy as his gaze grows naturally sultry.

and for some reason, you accept the shot glass and knock it back in one smooth motion - and no one notices, having dispersed into their own little conversations by the time you do. in fact, even haruto is too busy trying to keep his head up at all to even pay attention to the fact that you and riki have slapped down a few thousand yen bills and have shrugged your coats on and left.

but it doesn’t seem to make much a difference because the rest of the night is a blur and you can’t seem to remember a single thing after you left the restaurant with riki.

[tokyo, 1988]

there’s a violent pounding in your head when you come to and you severely regret whatever it was that you did last night - even though you can’t quite remember what exactly it was that you did last night.

you remember bits and incriminating pieces as the previous night fades in and out of your mind like a sick and twisted person had to decided to play a rerun but decided to leave all the crucial parts.

you try to sit up but slip, and your head meets the pillow rather unceremoniously when you realize two things: these sheets were silk and that was an issue. not because the sheets are ridiculously high quality silk.

but because you (or rather, jungwon) doesn’t own high quality silk sheets.

you gasp, lifting the covers of this foreign bed ever so slightly, wincing when you realize that you were wearing nothing but a men’s t-shirt and boxer shorts - both of which you did not own.

you take a deep breath, trying to recall as much of last night as possible before you get a migraine from thinking too hard.

there are a few things that come to mind:

you were at a little company ‘dinner’ with all of the neurology residents.

you left said company dinner early after getting violently drunk like you haven’t in quite some time.

you left with riki nishimura, one of the main reasons you got as drunk as you did.

you remember having wine with him after you got back to his apartment.

you remember asking him about his first impression of you.

you’re woke up in his bed wearing his clothes.

it’s not much to go off of but it doesn’t take a neuroscientist to figure out what had happened last night. your worst fears are realized when you twist to the best of your efforts and come face to face with riki. or rather, chest to face, as you realize that riki had, and some point in the night, laid his long (rather well built!) arm across your body, from the way that his arm falls just short of your thighs.

you twist back as quietly and gently as possible, trying your best to refrain from any sudden or large movements that might wake the slumbering giant next to you. you lean just slightly out of the bed to catch the time written on the alarm clock, cussing when you realize that you’re not only too late to make a clean escape back to jungwon and hyewon’s place without either of them realizing, but way too late to make it on time for your shift.

“i called us both out sick. the hospital knows that the neuro residents get rowdy during these dinners - they only let us do this twice a year,” a deep voice rumbles from behind you.

you freeze. okay. this is fine. there has to be a solution for this situation.

attack it systematically. the facts are laid out in front of you. what next?

you decide to slowly sit up in the bed, realizing that there was no way that you could make it out of this situation without having a conversation with the unfortunate owner of the bed you were currently in.

“oh. uh. good to know…i think,” you say, swallowing as you realize just how dry your throat is. “do - do you know what happened last night?”

riki is silent and you steel yourself to sneak a glance at him, only to realize that he was already looking at you with those stupidly hard to escape eyes, full of depth and a promise to something that you’re not quite sure of.

he shifts so that he’s also sitting up and turns so that he’s sitting facing you, much to your horror.

“you don’t?” he asks, eyes not leaving your face even once. you swallow again, pretending to be very interested in the thread count of riki’s bedspread (at least a few hundred, you gather, from how soft these sheets were) rather than having to face him like the grown woman you were.

“not really. i remember pretty much everything up until insisting that you don’t call me a taxi home,” you confess, still trying to memorize every stitch of satin. “i can’t remember a single thing after taking a sip of the wine.”

the silence that fills the room feels stifling as you wait for riki to say something. to put you out of your misery by addressing the elephant in the room. or even better, not address it at all and pretend as though it never happened.

“i see,” he says finally, and there’s a twinge of pain that forces you to finally tear your eyes away from the sheets to look at him. he looks the same, you think. there’s no change in expression on his face…but there’s a twitch of the eyebrows, a look in his eyes that gives way to the inner war that you know he’s going through.

not because riki was easy to read. but because of the way that the same war seemed to ravage at your own chest. stupidly enough, you wanted him to feel the same tear in his chest that you felt in your own.

about what, why, or what you were even feeling, you didn’t have a single clue. all you knew was that you didn’t want to feel alone in these feelings. it felt like after the loss of your grandmother, you’d been alone for so long.

and although this wasn’t the catalyst you’d expected would finally get you to start processing the sheer amount of trauma she’d left behind, for some reason, you just didn’t want to feel alone in this. even stranger, you wanted riki to accompany you in these feelings.

for the first time in about four years, jungwon wasn’t the one on your mind.

“do you want to talk about it? or acknowledge this at all? or do you want to pretend it never happened and bury it?” riki says finally, shaking you out of your thoughts. a question that you don’t have an answer to.

“i don’t know,” you answer honesty. “do you?”

riki sighs, running a hand through his hair. “i can’t believe that you don’t remember anything that i said last night.”

your eyebrows furrow. “what does that mean? what did you say?”

he looks at you, and this time, you can’t even pretend to not see the heartbreak written so plainly on his face.

“forget it, y/n. let’s pretend this never happened, if that’s what you want.”

and although that is what you wanted initially, for some reason, there’s a tightness in your chest that, like everything that has happened in the last twenty-four hours, you can’t explain.

[tokyo, 1988]

the torment doesn’t end when you make it back to jungwon’s home. as it unfortunately appears, both hyewon and jungwon had been so worried sick about your whereabouts that they had taken the day off from school and work to wait and see if you’d make it home before presumably notifying the authorities.

neither of them were strangers to days where you were so busy with a patient or an experiment that you wouldn’t be able to make it back but you were usually really good about phoning home or leaving a voice message about your whereabouts.

so when you finally stumble through the door, exhausted both physically and mentally, by the events of the past day, you’re immediately greeted by a teary eyed hyewon wrapping you up in a deep hug.

“where have you been y/n?” jungwon asks from behind her, arms crossed and his eyebrows furrowed. his tone is stressed, angry, worried, and even a little bit disappointed, you register vaguely.

“i’m sorry, i should’ve called,” you concede, setting down your briefcase next to the umbrella stand as you manage to peel off your jacket and hat the best you can with hyewon still lingering around you.

“yes, you should’ve called. but can you at least explain what you were up to for the last twenty hours that you’re completely unaccounted for?” jungwon says and you’re taken aback for a moment. yes, it was irresponsible of you to get that drunk in a foreign country. and yes, it was very kind of jungwon and hyewon to extend their home to you considering the history between you two.

but you were also an adult woman who was free to do what she pleased, according to your own free will. you were a neuroscientist for crying out loud. you were more than capable of making intelligent decisions for yourself.

…is what you wish you could say.

you just sigh and shake your head, hanging the jacket and hat up on the coatrack. “i’m sorry jungwon. the neuro department had a dinner last night and i had a few too many to drink. a coworker took me back to their place.”

jungwon doesn’t seem to be appeased by this answer and begins to start questioning even further but hyewon thankfully cuts into the conversation, latching her arm around yours as she guides you to the bedroom you were using.

“come on, you should get some food and a nice hot shower in you. i can’t imagine how tired you must be right now,” hyewon says, turning around to undoubtedly shoot jungwon a death stare when he starts to protest behind you.

“thank you,” you whisper when the two of you have moved far away enough from the overprotective man standing in the foyer.

“don’t mention it,” hyewon says, but it’s clear that the conversation is far from over when she closes the door behind her when the two of you reach the guest bedroom.

“what’s wrong?” you ask, trying not to think about the fact that the bedspread that you’d been using for the past three months suddenly felt so much less comfortable than you remember it being as you sit down on the bed. hyewon wrings her hands, clearly unsure how to bring up whatever was on her mind.

“i got a phone call from my cousin. i’m not particularly close to him or anything - so i’m sure you can imagine my surprise when i got the call,” she begins and you start to grow worried as she seems to contemplate every word that leaves her lips.

you nod, wanting to give her the space to approach the topic however she felt most comfortable.

“he mentioned that you had left the dinner with riki, one of the last year residents. mind you, he was drunk out of his mind and he said that riki was probably just making sure that you sober up and get home safe. i just know riki’s reputation so i wanted to talk to you about it. or at least let you know that i’m here if you want to talk to me about it,” she says finally, looking up tentatively. “i didn’t want to tell jungwon because you know he gets about people he feels protective over.”

you just look at her, not quite sure what to say. “right…”

“yeah. that’s all i really wanted to talk about,” hyewon concludes, wrapping her cardigan around her lithe frame a little tighter.

you nod, processing this new information that had been added to the equation. “can i ask what you meant by riki’s reputation?”

hyewon bites her lips as she contemplates for a moment. “i mean, from what my cousin has told me, riki has a bit of a reputation as a playboy. i don’t know how true it is - and i also know that my cousin is very prone to exaggerating things to make them seem cooler but i figured it was better to tell you than find out that you had no clue later on.”

“i didn’t,” you whisper, a hot rush of shame rushing up your shame.

“what?”

“i didn’t know that riki had that kind of reputation,” you explain, swallowing with great difficulty as it feels as though some obstruction was forcing your throat shut. “i didn’t realize that. i mean, i worked with the man for what, three months? i must’ve really been living in a bubble these past few months.”

but even as you speak, you find yourself more confused than ever. what did it matter if riki had this reputation? riki was a grown man and could have relations with whoever he pleased and however he pleased. you had no stake, claim, or even reason to wish for anything over him.

and yet there’s a whisper of a certain green-eyed monster sitting on your shoulder that you have to physically shiver to shake off, unsure of why it was there in the first place.

“i wouldn’t take it too seriously. i just wanted to let you know since - uh - it seems that the two of you are rather close,” hyewon says, trying to backpedal and take back her words. you just shake your head, offering hyewon a bitter smile.

“thanks for letting me know, hyewon.”

[seoul, 1984]

“hey, are you alright?” sunghoon asked, shaking you out of your contemplation. you were sprawled out on his couch, exhausted after another grueling day of talking to people who thought of you as much as they thought of a piece of gum stuck on their shoes. patients and fellow doctors alike.

“i’m fine,” you offered with a smile, accepting a cup of coffee that sunghoon offers you.

“you know this is the third all-nighter you’ve pulled this week, right?” he reminded you and you just nodded tiredly.

“don’t worry about it. i signed up for this,” you sighed and sumin rustled from the other side of you, adjusting so that she was facing you as she spoke.

“yeah…but did jungwon?” she inquired carefully. you and sunghoon both tensed up alike at this. jay’s eyebrows were furrowed, clearly wary of what she was going to say.

“i’m sorry - what does that mean?” sunghoon demanded and sumin just shrugged, taking a sip of her own coffee.

“i mean, you knew that you were going to be working long hours and everything but it kinda feels like jungwon was left in the dark about all of it,” she explained and you looked at her in shock.

“he knew what y/n was signing up for. he was the one who pushed her to apply to medical school. he gave up on korea university to go to seoul national university with y/n so that they could both work on getting her into medical school,” jay fought back and for some reason, it feels like your vision is tunneling as the tensions in the room start to rise.

sumin rolled her eyes as jay spoke, and it was clear that wasn’t the first time they’d fought about this very topic.

“yeah. and then he couldn’t get a job for six months because all of his connections preferred a candidate from korea university,” she reprimanded and you’re stunned by the anger in her voice.

“sumin, did jungwon say something to you? it feels like you’re kinda saying things deliberately but i’m just not sure where it’s coming from,” you retorted. sunghoon sat down next to you, his grip on his coffee mug rather tense.

sumin set down her cup of coffee on the table in front of the two of you, silent as she chose her words.

“it’s just…don’t you realize how much jungwon has given up for you? he chose the same university as you to support your goals and ambitions. he fights with his parents about you spending long hours at the hospital. he pushes off his own wants and needs for you. and he even gave up on marrying in his twenties like he dreamed of because he knew that you wouldn’t be ready to even think about marriage until you started fellowship. and then the only time that he really feels how important he is in your life is when you list him as your emergency contact. you don’t call him while you’re at the hospital. you don’t have the energy for dates.

“even now, you’re only sitting here because heeseung emotionally blackmailed you into being here because we haven’t seen you in four months, y/n. can you believe that? we all live within twenty minutes of each other by walking distance and you haven’t even called anyone. it’s either we reach out to spend time with you or we don’t even see you.

“i can’t even imagine how tired jungwon must be. he put in all of this effort - he changed his entire life just for you and it’s just not fair to see him get bogged down by all of the realities of how much effort he puts in to treat you well and how much you just don’t do the same.”

“i do love him,” you whispered, tears welling up in your eyes. sumin looked at you with a sympathetic look but it was clear that she felt no mercy as sunghoon just gave her a death glare and wrapped an arm around you loosely to ground you to the situation instead of being lost in your own mind and insecurities like sunghoon knew you tended to do.

“i believe you, y/n. but i just don’t think that it’s enough for him. and to be honest, there are a lot of other things that i think that he’s so kind to just brush past in your relationship but i really don’t think that it’s my place to say any of that,” she concluded, picking up her coffee mug once more.

“i think that’s quite enough. you’ve said a lot of things that weren’t your place to say,” jay said finally, getting up rather abruptly. he stormed into the kitchen and you exchanged a look with sunghoon, and you left sunghoon’s side to go talk to jay, knowing that it was best sunghoon that stayed with sumin right now than you.

“hey. you okay?” you asked quietly, watching carefully as jay stared out of the tiny window above the kitchen sink. jay was silent, but you knew that he didn’t mean to use the silence as a weapon. the two of you were similar in that; silence was a friend, not a foe and you and him both knew that you being there was enough of a comfort for both of you to try to sort through your thoughts.

“i’m sorry about that,” he said softly, loud enough for you to hear but not loud enough to drown out the tension in the other room. “i wish i had an excuse for her behavior but she’s been acting the same way with me these last few weeks.”

“i’m sorry to hear that, jay,” you consoled him gently, sighing as you set down your coffee mug. “it’s not easy to be in a relationship for so many different reasons. sometimes…you learn that it’s best to call it quits than to try to force it.”

jay looked at you through the corner of his eye carefully before shifting his gaze back to the stars. “you really want to call it quits on an eight year long relationship? you think that’s fair?”

you figured that it was a rhetorical question at the time so you didn’t answer, even though in retrospect, you probably should’ve.

you probably should have told the truth about just how much pain you felt every time you had to leave jungwon’s sleeping figure to creep out in the middle of the night and head to the hospital. about how you used to cry yourself to sleep in the on call room when you missed anniversary after birthday after promotion after the next reunion with friends. explained how you loved them all beyond belief but the only way you’d ever be able to win over your mother’s family was to show them just how successful your grandmother and grandfather had raised you to be.

there was so many truths that should’ve come out in that moment. perhaps if they had, jay would’ve helped you explain the situation to jungwon and heeseung, who were late to the reunion due to work. maybe it would’ve pushed him to be more honest with sumin about their relationship’s troubles, and maybe jay and sumin wouldn’t have broken up three months later.

maybe when jungwon came home that night with news about a promotion to the tokyo office, you wouldn’t have encouraged him. and maybe that gray house with the wood and emerald green interior would be yours and his.

but you didn’t. and the price you paid came at the expense of your friends, your lover, and every bit of warmth left in seoul.

[tokyo, 1988]

“you’re avoiding me,” riki says, echoing his statements from just a few weeks ago. this time, he doesn’t knock. doesn’t offer you any pleasantries about his day or even sound slightly amused by the way that you’ve been dodging him. you don’t look at him, pipetting the buffer solution into the tube carefully.

“you’re not my resident anymore, riki,” you remind him, ejecting the pipette tip into the little bucket before sticking a fresh one onto the pipette.

“since two days ago, y/n. you’ve been avoiding me for the past week and a half!” riki exclaims, running a frustrated hand through his hair

“i had no assignments for you to get done. i already submitted a glowing recommendation if you choose to do neurology research and patient care,” you offer in rebuttal, but you know that once again, you’re doing everything to avoid addressing the actual issue.

“you’re not being fair, y/n,” he says, and although you can hear the pain and just how fed up he is, you still can’t bring yourself to give him the closure that you know that he’s seeking.

“you said that we didn’t have to talk about it if i didn’t want to talk about it,” you say softly, carefully moving the tubes over to the freezer to chill the specimens over night.

“i said we could pretend it never happened,” he corrects, although it’s hard to believe the kindness in his words when he says them through gritted teeth.

“so let’s do that!” you exclaim, ripping your gloves off.

“yes, but that means that we have to be able to exist in the same space, y/n!” riki yells back. you give him a hard stare before turning away.

“just because you have practice doing this doesn’t mean i do,” you murmur under your breath, hoping he wouldn’t hear you. but alas, riki catches it because as you try to leave the workbench, riki corners you against the wall, so that you’re forced to look at him.

“what is that supposed to mean?” riki says, his voice dangerously low. you try to duck out of sight, not wanting to have this conversation here, where either of the two other professors who use this lab space could come back.

“forget about it, riki. i didn’t mean to say that,” you say, avoiding his gaze.

“didn’t mean to say it or didn’t mean that i would hear it?” he presses.

you squirm. “what difference does it make? either way, it doesn’t matter.”

“it makes all the difference in the world, y/n. if you didn’t mean it, then you’re so stressed because of something that you’re just saying things you don’t mean. if you did mean it, then there’s something you want to talk to me about that you’re just not brave enough to raise,” riki retorts.

“brave enough?” you pause your squirming, and for some inexplicable reason, a wave of fury flushes over you. “don’t you dare talk to me about being brave enough for something, riki.”

you push your finger into his chest, angry beyond belief. “i came to a foreign country by myself because i couldn’t bear being in the same country that i lost all the parents i’ve ever had. my mom, my dad, my grandfather, and then my grandmother. and i’m still here, trying to do my best to stay afloat and not break.”

riki is silent, staring at you in shock, but you’re not done yet.

“i’ve lost so much, riki. i’ve lost my parents. my grandparents. jungwon. my friends. i’ve lost so many people for reasons that were completely out of my control. so i started to just push everyone away! the second that i feel like i start to want to see someone in my life, i push them away before they go ahead and leave on their own.

“so when i woke up in your bed, not knowing what the hell happened the night before, what do you think was going through my head? i didn’t know what i did with you, what i told you, or even how i got there in the first place. i don’t even know why anything that happened happened. i don’t know why i asked you to come to the dinner. i don’t know why i couldn’t even get those words out, to ask you to come.

“i don’t know why my heart feels like it’s going to fall out of its chest when i see jungwon at home and then i come here to see you and suddenly, i get the same damn feeling. i don’t know why i started stumbling over my words the day we first met. i don’t know why i’ve worked this hard for this position and i lost so much in the process, only for it to somehow make sense when i met you.

“you frustrate me beyond belief for reasons that i kept telling myself i didn’t know, when the reality was that i just didn’t want to accept the truth that i possibly could’ve started to like someone. the last person i liked was the love of my life! the man that i had dated for eight years. the man that i thought i would get married to. what the hell do you think that i felt when i got that funny feeling in my stomach when i saw you being so…charismatic? handsome? with that stupidly probing look in your eyes, like you could read me to filth? only for hyewon to tell me that i’m one of maybe fifty women who also feel like that! to know that whatever the hell i might feel about you was probably completely not reciprocated!”

your chest heaving, and you’re painfully aware of how crazed you must look in this moment. hair in every which way from the way you’d been tugging at it in frustration. eyes wide and teary with rage and confusion. the slight goggles line on your forehead from a good four hours with them on. the way your lips are swollen from the way you’d been biting at them all day.

yet, he just looks at you, eyes fixated on your own.

almost as though he can sense another rant coming on, he lifts his hands to cup your cheeks.

and suddenly, his lips are on yours. soft. insistent. but gentle. sweet. tender. you want to push him away, yell at him for doing that. but you can’t. even as your lips don’t move, shaking as you try to process everything. even as you raise your arms to push him away, to shield yourself from the vulnerability that comes with being so intimate with someone, you just can’t.

even when you break, so damn tired of fighting him away.

even as your arms snake around his neck to pull him even closer, feeling the warmth radiating off of him.

his hands drift from your cheeks to your waist, pressing your body directly against his own. it feels as though all of the anger that you’d been harboring was slowly starting to melt away the longer he held you in his arms, enough pressure to keep you anchored to him but gentle enough to let you run away at any moment.

but you don’t. you find that your heart is tired of running and so you let it rest here, in his embrace.

riki doesn’t push you away, even when he pulls away. he lets out a soft sigh as he catches his breath, resting his forehead against your own.

“are you still angry with me?” he asks, eyes traveling across your face, as though trying to commit every inch to his memory.

“yes,” you whisper, although you’re well aware that there isn’t a shred of anger in your voice.

“that’s okay,” he laughs softly, bundling you up in his arms. “now that i know you feel the same way towards me that i feel towards you.”

“what about all the other women you’ve used the same line with?” you retort drily. riki finally pulls away from you to ensure that you can see the sincerity oozing from his eyes as he speaks.

“i’m not sure where i got this playboy reputation from, y/n. it’s true that i was flirtatious with women in the past but i’m not a player. i don’t do one night stands. i had a phase when i was in college but i’ve grown out of it. my reputation followed me into medical school and i never felt the need to correct anyone because i never liked anyone enough to want to dispel the rumors. but hear me loud and clear when i say this: i have never loved someone like i love you.”

you can’t help the tears that gather in your eyes again, and suddenly even his gaze feels too intimate for you. you look away, trying to brush away the tears that slip from their confines.

“i don’t think that i can love you, riki…not yet…” you warble. riki just smiles a sad little smile as he steps closer, using the pads of his thumbs to brush away your tears.

“that’s okay, y/n. for you? i’ll wait until whenever you’re ready. i’ve got enough for the both of us.”

[seoul, 1987]

“you know, since jungwon moved on and is getting married, you could also put yourself out there again,” sunghoon said, confiscating your soju bottle. you didn’t even have the energy to fight him, letting him steal your solace from you without so much as a peep.

“i don’t even have enough time to take care of myself. where would i get the time to go date someone?” you lamented but sunghoon looked neither bemused nor sympathetic.

“you drink yourself half to death and then max out your hours at the hospital very much voluntarily, y/n. i’m not throwing you a pity party here,” sunghoon said firmly. you couldn’t dispute his statements. he was right. the death of your grandfather and breaking up with jungwon were both things that happened to you somewhat out of your control. the alcoholism and working yourself to the bone at the hospital was all your own doing.

but it just wasn’t fair.

“did you see the picture of her in the wedding invitation?” you asked sullenly, slumped over sunghoon’s table. sunghoon just stared at you for a moment before sighing, sitting down in the seat next to your own.

“i did,” he admitted.

“she’s gorgeous.”

sunghoon was silent. he agreed.

“i want to move on, sunghoon. you think i don’t hurt? i might’ve broken up with him but it wasn’t because i loved him any less than i loved him when we started dating. i honestly love him even more than that! you know that’s why i broke up with him. and you know how much my grandfather meant to me. after everything that happened with my mother’s side of the family, he still was the one to fight with all of them and cut all of them off when i landed on his doorstep.”

“i know.”

“so then why won’t you let me be sad, sunghoon? why won’t you just let me ruin my own life when i’ve already lost two of the most important people i had!” you cried, but even through your tears, you could feel how ridiculous you were being.

“i love you, y/n. you’re one of the most important people i have. and i refuse to make that past tense.” so simply. that was it. sunghoon loved you and you loved him. he was the brother you’d always wished you had. the family that you wished you had when you saw other children bring their brothers and sisters to the park to play with them.

sunghoon took one look at you before covering your hands with his own. “would you let me do this to myself?”

you sniffled. “no.”

he finally cracked a smile at the speed of your response. “so i’m not going to let this happen to you. you’re my little sister, right? i’m gonna protect you.”

and that was how you finally started healing.

[tokyo, 1988]

“do you have any christmas plans next week?” hyewon asks. it’s a rare feat to have all three of you sitting together for dinner, with jungwon often coming home late due to the end of the year projects at his office. it also didn’t help that you had taken on more patient care work, meaning that your hours were all over the place, trying to treat patients and also complete your research in time for the holidays.

“not really,” you say. “do you two?”

jungwon and hyewon exchange a look before jungwon clears his throat, leaning forward in his chair.

“we were going to hyewon’s uncle’s place in the evening…” jungwon trails off and you can surmise the parts that the two of them are struggling to say.

“go. please. i am a big girl and am more than capable of spending time by myself,” you laugh. more time to get some paperwork done, you think. maybe even spend some time calling sunghoon, since he’d also been very busy with the end of the year projects he had to complete.

“i know…but still. i remember how much christmas meant to your grandmother. i don’t want you to feel like you’re alone on the holidays,” jungwon explains gently and your breath catches in your throat for a moment before you’re able to swallow down the pain.

“oh, don’t worry about that. grandma always wanted me to be a successful doctor more than she wanted me to be a family woman because of everything that happened with my mother’s…you know what. don’t worry about it. i’m gonna be just fine, trust me,” you rasp, picking up your chopsticks again. hopefully shoving more food down your throat would make you feel less like throwing up.

“honestly y/n, i’m more than fine with skipping this dinner if you want to do something together instead,” hyewon says earnestly, but you just shake your head.

“no, please, i don’t want you to miss out on spending time with your family on my account. i heard christmas is a couple’s holiday in japan anyway, right?” you say, trying your best to keep from sounding too sardonic. “besides, i’m not going to be alone.”

hyewon nearly falls out of her seat. “you’re not gonna - do you have a boyfriend?”

you think for a moment before shaking your head. “not a boyfriend.”

“then what? if you know that christmas is a couple’s holiday, and you’re not going to be alone, that means that you’re in a relationship - right?” jungwon interrogates.

you shrug. “you don’t have to have a boyfriend to be in a relationship.”

“well, then do you have a girlfriend?”

“no.”

“significant other.”

“…jungwon.”

“so then what do you have?”

“i don’t know. we’re taking things slow. it’s only been two weeks. i’m not ready to put any labels on this just yet,” you say casually but your explanation doesn’t seem to satisfy jungwon, who just chews on his shoga-yaki rather intensely.

“uh…but it’s a something?” hyewon asks tentatively. you pause before nodding slowly, tapping your chopsticks on the plate as you think.

“it’s a something,” you agree. “but i’m being very serious when i say that i want to take things slow. i’m a bit out of practice and this is the first time i’ve liked someone since…”

suddenly the wasabi in front of the three of you looks incredibly interesting. hyewon clears her throat, the first to recover.

“well, whatever it is, i hope it makes you happy, y/n. you deserve a lifetime of happiness,” she says, scooting out of her chair to start putting the leftovers away. jungwon looks at you with a certain look in his eyes - one that you know all too well.

you saw it quite often right before you broke up with each other.

the feeling that you’re being pulled in opposite directions from each other.

“you’re too sweet, hyewon,” you say, unable to take your eyes off of jungwon - who holds your gaze. he wants to say something - you can tell by the way his grip on his chopsticks grows just that much firmer. you wait, and it feels as though the tension is physically rising to suffocate you…and then jungwon’s grip grows lax again as he turns his gaze back down to his nearly empty plate.

“oh, speaking of big changes,” you begin, getting up slowly. “i have some news for the two of you. i haven’t said anything yet because nothing was finalized but i think that there are only a few steps left.”

hyewon turns off the sink she was washing dishes at, turning to you with a worried look. “is everything okay y/n?”

you nod. “everything’s more than okay - you guys remember the apartment i went to see a few weeks ago? well, i just got my clearances back today and the landlord said we could move forward with the process! i’ll be out of your hair in less than a month, at the maximum! it’s in azabu, so the other side of shibuya but the commute to work is much shorter.”

hyewon leaps forward to wrap you with a tight hug. “that’s so amazing, y/n! you’re never a bother for us but it must be so exciting to have your own place and everything now!”

you laugh and hug her back. but even as you do so, you are distinctly aware of jungwon still sitting at the table, silent. hyewon seems to register this as well by the way that she peels herself off of you to look at him.

“jungwon, aren’t you so happy for her?” hyewon asks, her arms still resting on your own. jungwon doesn’t respond, instead putting the dishes in the sink and then heading upstairs wordlessly, not once looking at you or hyewon.

[seoul, 1984]

“you want to break up?” there’s no anger in his voice. no surprise, no disbelief, nothing.

you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

“it’s been a long time coming, hasn’t it?” you could hear the sheer exhaustion in your own voice.

jungwon sighed, running a hand through his hair as he contemplates. “i don’t know.”

“when did you start waking up and knowing that this wasn’t going to work?”

“i don’t know.”

he sounded equally as tired. you swallowed, almost afraid to ask the question that had been pressing on your mind since sumin had confronted you two weeks ago.

“do you still love me?” you ventured. jungwon looked at you as though you’d asked him if you were suddenly glowing and bright blue. and for the first time since you’d sat him down half an hour ago, saying that you needed to talk, there’s an emotion other than tiredness jungwon’s face.

“i love you so much it hurts, y/n. but sometimes, love isn’t enough.”

[tokyo, 1988]

“what are your plans for christmas, riki?” you ask. you don’t look at him, casually flipping through the pages of your literature. not a word on those pages register in your mind as you wait for riki’s answer.

riki hums, tying his shoelaces. it’s been a long day for both of you - riki was officially in the surgery rotation and was being pummeled left and right with long hours and back to back surgeries. his suspicion was that haruto was taking out his anger on his resident but you thought that haruto was too nice to do something that petty.

“i’m not sure. my parents don’t really care for christmas so…i guess it depends on what the girl i’m seeing wants to do,” he says smugly. you can feel the heat rise up your spine and settle on your cheeks, ducking out of sight from riki before he takes notice.

but it’s clear that riki had spoken with a clear goal in mind, with the way that he smirks from across the desk.

“uh, that’s nice,” you manage, clearing your throat. “and if she wants to just stay at home?”

riki shrugs. “that’s fine by me. i’m not scheduled for christmas so i’m alright with doing whatever you’d like.”

you nod, setting down the papers that were blocking your face once you’ve managed to compose yourself. you’re about to say something (perhaps another quip at the ‘girl riki was seeing’) when a wave of nausea washes over you, forcing you to grip the handles of your chair as you try to fend off the wave.

riki looks at you with concern, watching you keel over as you try to take deep breaths to keep yourself from emptying your lunch all over your desk.

“y/n? are you alright?” he asks tentatively, getting up to squat down in front of you. his brown eyes are full of palpable concern and you try to muster a smile, waving him off.

“i’m fine,” you manage. “i’ve just been having these bouts of nausea lately. i think that the sashimi i had a couple days ago has been taking a toll on my body.”

riki doesn’t laugh at your attempt at lightheartedness, instead calculating in his mind. “y/n…you know, it’s been around four weeks since we…”

you lift your head slightly. “yeah?”

riki takes a deep breath, taking one of your hands in both of his. “did you get your period this month?”

you reel backwards, snatching your hand away from riki in the process. “don’t be crazy riki. it’s food poisoning, not a child.”

riki raises his hand in surrender, still kneeling on the floor.

“i believe you!” he says, but you can tell that he’s not fully convinced. “but wouldn’t it be better to be safe than sorry?”

you just stare at him, unable to process anything all of a sudden. you had been having pretty bad migraines the past week. and your appetite was suddenly nowhere nearly as robust as it used to be. but you had chalked all of it up to working too hard over the past few weeks, trying to tie up all the lose ends before the end of the year.

no. all of that was just due to stress. there was just no way that you were pregnant. you were dr. l/n y/n, for heaven’s sake! there’s just no way that you would be pregnant of all things. not after you’d done everything to run away from a family, there’s just no way that the universe could be so cruel to give you the one thing that you were the most afraid of.

but something about the way that riki was looking at you made you feel as though there was a cause for being concerned.

“i - we didn’t use protection?” you ask incredulously. riki pauses before slowly nodding his head and then shaking it.

“we did…the first two times,” he says, somewhat sheepishly. and even as you’re scared shitless, you can’t help the startled giggle that escapes you.

“riki, i need you to tell me exactly what happened that night.” your voice is serious, but not unkind and riki sighs before getting up, dragging the chair on the other side of the desk to the side that you were on.

he holds your hand once more before taking a deep breath, and recounting what had happened that night.

[tokyo, 1988]

“i’m not drunk, i swear,” you promised, but riki was thoroughly unconvinced by the way that you couldn’t walk in a straight line. riki was nowhere near sober (in fact, he was vaguely sure that he was also on the verge of blacking out) but at least he could tell his left from right. with about 10% confidence.

and somehow, that was better than you were faring.

“yeah, and i don’t have the world’s fattest one sided crush on you,” he snorted, somewhat under his breath and somewhat for you to hear.

it’s clear that even if your occipital lobe might not be functioning at 100% capacity, your auditory system was sharper than ever. you pause, stumbling into riki a little bit.

“you what?” you asked, hiccuping slightly as you gasp. “did you, at the ripe old age of twenty-seven years, old use the word crush?”

riki rolled his eyes. “that’s what you’re fixated on?”

you giggled. “it’d be so beyond stupid of me if i never noticed the chemistry between us.”

this took riki aback, sending him stumbling into the alleyway behind him. in any circumstance, riki would be wary of being in such an alleyway in the middle of the night in the dead center of tokyo but he’s too fixated on what you said.

“you knew?” he whispered incredulously. you shrugged, clearly not understanding the weight of the words you were saying.

“that you had a ‘crush’ on me? not really. but i always felt kinda attracted to you - like magnets, you know? i figured it wasn’t one sided if the tension was that strong.” you said it so nonchalantly, as though you were reminded riki that there are 365 days in a year or that uracil is found in RNA, not DNA.

the next thing riki remembered is the look in your eyes when he drew closer and the gasp when his lips were on yours.

after that? nothing.

[tokyo, 1988}

you look at riki, trying to gauge whether he’s messing with you or being completely serious. “you don’t remember anything after that?”

riki shakes his head. he ducks quickly to avoid the angry swat you aim in his direction. “hey! it’s not like i was sober either!”

“but you remembered enough to know that we…you know…more than once!” you splutter, and riki lifts up a finger as if to protest.

“i only know that because of contextual reasoning, actually. i found the condom wrappers in the trash later but i know we went to sleep around four or five in the morning because my alarm went off at five and you nearly fell out of bed because you thought it was a fire alarm,” riki says, eyebrows drawn tightly together as he tries to piece together what happened that night.

you let out an exasperated sigh. “if we were both that drunk, i can’t imagine we were making all the best decisions regarding sexual safety.”

riki’s hand latches itself back onto your own. he looks up at you earnestly, sincerity oozing from him. “i mean this so genuinely, y/n: no matter what happens, we’ll figure it out, okay? pregnant or not, we’ll figure this out. just promise me one thing.”

you look at him, almost afraid of what he was going to ask of you.

“what?”

“just promise me that you won’t run away. promise me that you’ll let me be by your side. promise that you’ll actually lean on me. promise me that we can figure this out together,” riki asks, emotion thick in his voice. you blink, shocked that that’s what he wanted you to promise.

he could’ve walked away at any moment. pregnancy or not, you knew that the blame always fell on the women. especially in asia? pregnant? when you and riki weren’t even in an established relationship, much less not married? you knew that the implications would be enough to make you lose your job, just for the absolute tarnishing of your reputation.

but riki wants to be here with you, and take the fall with you? the fall. oh. you’re gonna lose your job. and riki’s gonna lose his job for standing by you. and then…and then it’ll all go to shit. all of the things you’d worked so hard for your entire life would be for nothing. all the sacrifices you’d made to get here would be moot. everything your grandparents gave up for you to become a doctor would be meaningless.

riki seems to register that you’re starting to spiral by the way your breathing grows more rapid, as if there wasn’t enough air in the room. he gets up, and gently guides you into his embrace as he leans over to hold you to his chest. his chest is firm, and so is his grip on you, but in the way that a snug sock might be. firm but not demanding. gentle and reassuring. maybe not like a sock then.

“it’s okay, y/n. i promise,” he whispers into your hair. and suddenly, it’s as though he’s unlocked something inside you as the tears start to flow, soaking riki’s button up shirt.

“how can you say that?” you sniffle through your tears and riki’s heart seems to physically break at the pain in your voice. he might not know what you’ve gone through for you to seem so distraught or unbelieving of the fact that everything was gonna be okay but riki made a solemn vow to himself in that moment.

he was going to make sure that you never had to doubt that he would be there with you. that you’d have to struggle to make everything okay on your own.

“because i’m here with you, y/n. and i promise that i will be for as long as you’ll have me.”

riki doesn’t move as you just cry for the next twenty minutes.

[seoul, 1985]

you sat, almost numb to the coldness of the hospital chair as you tried to commit your grandfather’s every minuscule movement to memory. your grandfather had always seemed so strong - as though he’d been made out of the thunderclouds that were threatening torrential rain outside. he was tall and still fairly muscular - remnants from his youth as a farmer’s son. he always had a bright smile and a looked like he hadn’t aged past forty well into his seventies.

it was so strange seeing him laying there in that hospital bed. he looked so small and fragile. completely opposite from the grandfather that you remember teaching you how to ride a bike or write a check. the grandfather who’d knock on your door and bring fruits while you were studying and didn’t have time to eat.

it felt wrong.

your grandmother came back into the room with two cups of coffee, extending one out to you. you sat up in your chair as you accepted it and she sat down next to you, watching the gentle rise and fall of her husband’s chest.

“i can’t believe he has cancer, grandma,” you said, unable to keep the worry out of your voice. your grandmother looked at you before looking back at her husband.

“i told him that those cigarettes would be the end of him,” she sighed, but you could hear the pain in her voice. “but he was a stubborn old man and he always used to tell me that they were his one solace when you weren’t at home.”

a feeling of guilt sat low in your belly, like it was churning its sickness into you.

“i should’ve come home more often,” you whispered but your grandmother waved you off.

“we wanted you to work hard and become a doctor. it was your mother’s dream, after she saw her sister become a dentist but things never really worked out,” your grandmother sighed. you paused, your breath catching as you turned to your grandmother slowly.

“my mother had a sister? i thought you told me that you only had mom and that’s it,” you said. your grandmother paused, as though she were deciding to rectify her slip or to smooth it over. the truth won out as your grandmother sighed, leaning back in her chair. you watched with bated breath, shocked at the possibility of having a family that your grandparents had withheld from you.

your grandmother kept her gaze on the cup of coffee in front of her.

“your mother had a sister. she was from your grandfather’s first marriage.” your grandmother took a long sip of her coffee as she waited for you to at least somewhat recover from her shocking revelation.

“what happened to her? i knew that grandpa had a wife but i didn’t know that they had a child,” you spluttered. your grandmother nodded.

“they had a child. your mother and her were very close when they were children, even though they had different mothers. her mother died when she was young so i was like her real mother. and it was all alright until she went to college. your mother must’ve been fifteen or sixteen when her sister went to college.

“i don’t know what happened. it was as though she went as a happy, loving child and came back so broody and snappy all the time. that was around the time that your mother and her sister started growing distant. eventually, she stopped coming home.

“she started to cut us all out slowly, only keeping in touch with her father. and then one day, she showed up on our doorstep with a wedding invitation with some rich boy. his parents had looked at our family background and offered her an ultimatum: denounce her family or be unable to marry their son.”

your grandmother sighed, looking down in her lap. had she always looked so weathered? the lines in her forehead seemed so prominent all of a sudden.

“she chose the boy. she wrote to your grandfather a few times but that was about it. and then your mother grew to become an english teacher and got married to your father and got pregnant with you. she always missed her sister, no matter she tried to hide it. she invited her to her wedding but she never came. i think she had someone drop off congratulatory cash though.

“your grandfather was so upset by that that he forbade any of us from speaking to her - not that that was possible. he wrote her out of the will and never allowed us to speak about her. but your mother, she had a heart that was too soft for her own good. after - after she died giving birth to you and your father died in that car crash on the way to the hospital, we found out that she wanted you to grow up under her sister’s care if something happened to her and her husband.

“the last time we saw your mother’s sister was when she came to our house to say that she wouldn’t adopt you because her in-laws were too obsessed with pedigree. they said that they didn’t want to adopt someone who was born to poor parents and…a child who had ‘killed’ her parents before she was even born. it didn’t help that your father also didn’t have his parents and didn’t have a huge sum of cash to fall back on. your grandfather was so furious at her words that he held her by her elbow and threw her out of the house.”

the tears streamed down your cheeks silently as you listened, unable to even think straight as you tried to process her words. your grandmother chuckled drily, shaking her head.

“that old soul loved you from the moment he laid eyes on you. said that he lost his daughter for only three minutes because she was finding her way back as you,” your grandmother said and you choked as you tried to catch your breath, winded by the realization of just how much your grandparents had sacrificed for you.

“i can’t believe you didn’t tell me this,” you said, unable to speak properly because of the tears clogging your throat. your grandmother tried to smile, rubbing your back gently.

“what good would’ve that been? you are our angel, y/n. our blessing. we got to experience being parents all over again because of you. but that’s why your grandfather and i always pushed you so hard to be a successful doctor. we wanted you to do everything your mother couldn’t do…and prove to them that pedigree has nothing to do with the amount of money you have, but the way you grow,” your grandmother said, and you leaned into her warmth as she continued to rub your back.

“i will grandma. i am going to be so successful that grandpa is going to be able to walk down the streets with his head held high because that family is going to weep because of how successful i’d become,” you promised, eyes red with determination.

and even though in hindsight it was probably just coincidence, there was a slight smile on your sleeping grandfather’s face as you grit your teeth and set your sights on ambitions higher than the clouds in the skies.

your grandmother swore, two weeks later, that that determination is what finally allowed him to rest easy when he closed his eyes for the last time.

[tokyo, 1988]

riki looks at you, beyond shocked at what you’ve revealed to him as the two of you sit on his couch at his apartment. the two of you had decided to move from the hospital to his apartment so that you could take a walk watching the tokyo sunset to calm down your emotions a bit after buying the pregnancy test. you laugh through the tears streaming down your face as you fan yourself.

“that’s the first time i’ve ever told that actually. i can’t believe how much burden has been lifted off of my shoulders by talking about that,” you say. riki is still frozen as he tries to process this incredible amount of information that you’ve disclosed with him.

“i - i don’t know what to say, y/n,” he says honestly. “i am so thankful you trust me enough to tell me though.”

you brush at your cheeks to wipe away the tears. “i felt like i had to explain my spiral from earlier.”

riki finally moves, raising his own hand to cup your cheek and brush away your tears. “you don’t have to justify yourself to me, y/n. but thank you for telling me. it makes a lot more sense why you told me you were so protective about your job…and your hesitation with pregnancy.”

“yeah, having your mom die during pregnancy and then being called a killer for her dying in labor doesn’t really prove to be a great way to embrace motherhood,” you eke out, failing to keep the dark dryness out of your tone.

riki lifts his other arm, twisting so that he was facing you as he sat, and cups your other cheek. “y/n, if you take that pregnancy test and it’s positive and you don’t want this child, i am here for you. it’s one hundred percent your decision and my approval or lack of it means absolutely jack shit but just know that if you want to abort this baby, we will abort this baby. you are the most important person here right now and i want to do whatever you want to do.”

you nod, unable to come up with the words to express your thankfulness. not just at the way riki has placed so much of the deciding power in your hands, but also because of how gentle and kind he has been throughout the entire time you’ve been spiraling.

“i wish i could tell you how much that means to me,” you whisper gently, leaning into riki’s warm touch for just a moment longer before taking a deep breath and pulling away.

“you okay?” he asks, slowly retracting his arm. you hesitate for just a moment before resting your hand on his arm, trying to offer him a comforting smile.

“i’m perfect, riki. i - i think i should take the test. it’ll take half an hour to get the results anyway,” you swallow and riki just watches you carefully before slowly nodding.

“alright. well. you know where the bathroom is - let me know if you need anything, okay?” he says softly. you nod, but you can’t hear him well over the pounding of your heart as you slowly make your way to the restroom.

the process itself takes a lot less time than you’d expected. between opening the package and peeing on the stick, you manage to finish the whole thing in less than seven minutes (which you know for a fact because you count out each individual minute for the last four minutes). the rest of the time that you’re in the bathroom (six minutes, that you also count out) is you biting your nails, trying to figure out how to break this to jungwon.

whether it was negative or positive, there was just something that seems to have clicked when you were sitting with riki on his couch, talking about things that you’d never had the courage to talk about prior to this evening.

with jungwon, things had always been so easy - everything just happened because it felt like it should happen. there was no hardship until the moment that the two of you grew up, and realized just how much you would have to sacrifice for each other to stay together. it felt like when push came to shove, the two of you had been so used to the comfort of always having each other’s presence that you never truly imagined how difficult it would be to adjust outside of that life.

but with riki, every step seemed to be the universe offering you a new life lesson. there was so much growth that came with riki and yet, it felt right. riki never ran away from you, no matter how much you thought you were a burden in his life for all of the unresolved, messed up, jumbled feelings that seemed to weigh you down everyday.

and in the few short weeks you’d been seeing riki, somehow you were presented with more difficult decisions and more conflict than you were exposed to with jungwon over the near decade that the two of you were dating.

and the fact that riki was able to coach you through all of them, despite the fact that he was younger than you, and give you the support that you needed (never mind the near magnetic compulsion you felt towards him) gives you the courage to step out of the restroom.

riki is standing just outside the restroom, back leaned up against the wall as he seems to be reassuring himself quietly, rubbing his thumb over his own knuckles in a rhythmic motion.

“how are you holding up?” you ask quietly, and riki’s head whips towards you when he realizes you’re out of the restroom. he shrugs, running a hand through his hair but you know that there are words he wants to say that are on the tip of his tongue.

“i’m fine,” he says. you nod, almost ready to take this as an answer before a chord of dissonance strikes through your body and you turn around to face him once more.

“are you sure, riki? i mean, this is a big decision for you too,” you say gently. and it’s as though these are the words that riki needs to hear for the dam of his emotions to just break. he looks at you for just a moment, taking in every single inch of your aura as he just stares.

and then he pulls you in for a kiss that feels as though he’s physically trying to mould your soul into his. like he’s trying to transfer every single ounce of his doubt, fear, and love into your brain just by the force of his kiss.

your hand trails up his arm to cup at his cheek, gently caressing it as riki begins to calm down, his heart rate growing steadier and slower with your touch. he pulls away to rest his forehead against yours, eyes closed as he tries to steady his breath.

“i’m so scared. but i’m also so ready for this. and maybe our relationship happened all out of order and without convention but i just…i know that there’s something here. something i can’t let go of, y/n. no matter what,” riki whispers.

these words uttered by anyone else, would make you want to run and scream and bury your head in the soil, running far far away. but from riki? it just feels right.

you just look up at him and smile, taking a deep breath. “i’m here for you riki. just as much as you’re here for me.”

riki nods and then pushes the door to the bathroom open, where the pregnancy test is sitting on the counter and you don’t even have to look at the test to know the answer.

instead you just see riki melt into you, wrapping you up in a protective, warm, and vulnerable hug.

it’s positive.

[tokyo, 1989]

“that’s the last of the boxes, i think,” jungwon huffs, dusting his hands off as he sets down a large cardboard box. you and hyewon had been a little too excited when you’d gone furniture shopping together for your new apartment so the number of boxes that were now lined up against the walls were far too many to count.

“thanks for helping out, jungwon,” you say, offering him a glass of water that he accepts with a tight smile. hyewon was downstairs, in the lobby of the apartment building, picking up the carry out food that you’d ordered to your apartment.

or at least, this was the excuse that she was using to escape from the sure to be nuclear fallout that would emerge after jungwon found out that you were pregnant, which she’d convinced you to reveal today.

you’d told hyewon pretty much right after you’d found out. they’d just come back home from christmas dinner, and hyewon had been looking so light and bubbly.

“you know what, y/n. i wish that you’d get married to that boy soon. i just visited my niece and she is just the most precious person on the planet! i wish i’d get pregnant to have my own bundle of joy but until then, i’m gonna hound you until you have one,” she’d said, folding her formal attire and putting it away in the closet. you didn’t notice in the moment, but she was looking at you with a strange, almost knowing look as she spoke. you hummed, nodding along as you meditated on whether or not to tell her that her wish may be coming true sooner than hyewon might expect.

you glanced at the shut door that led to the bathroom, where jungwon was taking an obnoxiously long shower.

“hyewon…” you began, a thumb running over your knuckles in an effort to ease your nerves. “i have to tell you something.”

hyewon turned around slowly, her gaze growing serious at the pensiveness in your tone. “is everything alright?”

you nodded, and indicated for her to follow you out of the master bedroom. she might’ve invited you up there to chat but you still didn’t want jungwon to see you speaking in hushed tones with hyewon. he’d been a little distant from you since you told him that you were going to be moving out and you didn’t want to put hyewon in an awkward place if he saw you confiding in her.

not to mention the fact that there was no way in hell that you could even tell jungwon about the pregnancy.

“everything’s fine hyewon. do you wanna drink some hot cocoa with me? i brought some from my date,” you said, trying to calm hyewon down. she nodded, though clearly not satisfied with your secrecy.

the two of you made your way downstairs, each lost in your own thoughts. the entire time that you fix up two mugs of hot cocoa, you’re silent, unsure of what exactly to say to her.

“are you pregnant?” hyewon was the one to break the silence and you turned to her, shocked.

“how did you know?” you asked, dumbfounded that she’d known so quickly. hyewon accepts the mug of hot cocoa that you handed her as she thought, trying to find the words to answer your question.

“i’ve known for a while,” she admitted quietly after a few moments of silence. “there’s a glow that you didn’t have before. at first i thought it was because of the man you were dating but it’s almost…softer than that? i don’t know. there’s a maternal energy that you have that is a lot more prevalent now. you’re a lot warmer now.”

there’s a blush on your cheeks as you listened to hyewon. had you truly changed that much? were you that different of a person? in the short time that you were aware of your motherhood, you had never really considered that anyone else would be able to recognize your inner tsunami of emotions.

much less that anyone would be able to tell that you were growing a new life - a thought that was equal parts frightening and beautiful.

“does anyone else know?” she asked, and you’re forced back into the quiet hum of the heating in the background.

“just riki - the father - and you,” you confessed and hyewon nodded, taking a long sip of her hot cocoa.

“does sunghoon know?” she continued. you shook your head, opting to drink from your own cup instead. you’re not sure if it’s the morning sickness or the realization that you need to tell sunghoon but there’s a queasiness in your stomach that doesn’t seem like it’s going to leave anytime soon.

“not yet. and obviously, neither does jungwon,” you said. hyewon nodded, silent as she contemplates your words.

“neither of them are going to react well to this,” she said plainly and while you’re somewhat taken aback at her matter-of-fact statement said so bluntly, you knew that was the truth. seeing the panic on your face, hyewon got up, pausing for just a moment in front of you before wrapping you in a deep hug.

“but even if they don’t, know that i am happy for you. if you want this baby, i will be here for you every step of the way. they’ll come around. they just love you a lot,” hyewon said.

you hoped so.

“hello? earth to y/n?” hyewon says, waving her hand in front of your face.

“sorry, i was just spacing out,” you say, blinking as you’re brought back to the present.

“you’ve been really spacey over the last two weeks, y/n. is everything alright?” jungwon asks. it’s the first time that jungwon has spoken to you about anything other than basic small talk ever since you’d broken the news that you were moving from their place.

hyewon and you exchange a look and hyewon mumbles something about using the restroom and escapes once again, leaving you to face jungwon alone.

“jungwon, i have to tell you something,” you say with a deep sigh. jungwon stares at you, unsure of exactly how he was supposed to react to that statement. he settles for just nodding, and the two of you head from the kitchen to the living room, where the only furniture that had been set up was a couch and an ottoman.

you sit on the ottoman, across from jungwon, who sits on the couch. but as you open your mouth to tell him the news that had been causing you to be so distant lately, there’s a buzz at the door and your stomach sinks.

in your rush to move all the boxes and all the furniture into the apartment, you’d completely forgot that you had invited riki to come over and help with the move in process, thinking that jungwon and hyewon would leave by the time he would come over. you curse as you check your watch, realizing that you’d miscalculated just how long it would take to move everything in.

jungwon gives you a strange look. “are you going to answer the door?”

you swallow, nodding as you get up, buzzing riki in. “jungwon, i need to tell you about someone and…you’re going to meet him right now and i need you to like him. okay?”

“y/n, what are you talking about?”

you’re not sure what compels you. maybe it’s the fact that this is the longest conversation that you had with jungwon in over a month. maybe it’s the growing pressure to tell him. maybe it’s the nerves. the probing look in his eyes. or maybe…maybe it’s the comfort that you feel in jungwon. the comfort that you felt years ago, when you were head over heels in love, and felt like it was almost a crime to keep anything from him because you knew just how much he cared.

“i’m pregnant, jungwon. and riki is the father. and you don’t know riki. but he works with me at the hospital. he’s a year younger than me and i’ve been seeing him for two and a half months. and i - i think i love him.”

the words practically trip over themselves as they rush out, each one more disastrous than the one before. jungwon grows pale with your confession, before a flush rises in his cheeks, anger so obvious in his eyes that for the first time in your life, you’re afraid in his presence.

and as if the universe hadn’t had enough contempt for you very existence, there’s a knock at the door and you don’t have time to react. jungwon leaps up, faster than you can move, and opens the door in the blink of an eye.

everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion. jungwon grabbing riki’s collar. riki locking eyes with you and keeping his hands behind his back. jungwon pulling riki into the apartment. pushing him against the wall. hyewon rushing out of the bathroom. riki doing nothing to stop jungwon when he draws his fist back. hyewon trying to physically pull jungwon away from riki.

“YOU PIECE OF SHIT - YOU KNOCKED HER UP? HOW COULD YOU DO THAT TO HER? DO YOU KNOW WHAT SHE DID TO GET TO WHERE SHE IS NOW? AND YOU JUST RUINED HER LIFE?”

jungwon was screaming, but for some reason, you can’t process anything he’s saying. all you can do is stare, dumbfounded.

riki just looks at him, almost as if he’d expected this explosive reaction, but perhaps for all the wrong reasons. you’d told riki bits and pieces of your past with jungwon - especially about why you were so hesitant to jump into a serious relationship - but nothing significant enough for him to just stand there while jungwon was threatening to beat him up.

“i love her, jungwon.”

jungwon’s fist just barely swings past riki. you don’t give him a chance to wind up and aim properly this time. you leap out of your seat and push jungwon away, and it’s clear that jungwon is taken aback by the statement when he practically topples over from your slight push.

“you what?” jungwon whispers, chest heaving as he looks at riki as if he’d grown a second head. hyewon looks tense from behind him, her arms still circled around his waist.

“i said, i love her. and i’m gonna stick by her. and…and if she wants to keep the baby, i’m gonna marry her,” riki says, almost matter-of-factly. this time, you almost topple over. it’s as though the sheer nonsensical nature of the situation has knocked all the anger out of jungwon as he just stares at riki. and then you. and then riki.

“you’re…what?” he says.

“you - you’re - you…what?” you echo. riki nods, looking down at you with a warm yet concerned gaze. he lifts his arm, no doubt to wrap you in a protective hug, but decides against it when he looks at jungwon again.

“if you want to keep the baby, i’ll marry you, y/n. not because i think that marriage is going to magically take away all the issues or anything. but i want life to be easy for you. i want life to be good for our baby. i want you to have a family - if that’s what you want.” his voice is soft, but firm. earnest and sincere but full of conviction.

if he was running for a political seat, you’re sure that you would’ve already cast your vote for him.

“huh?” at least the confusion was causing jungwon to steer away from anger as he just looks at you with an almost visible question mark floating above his head.

riki is the one to answer his (many) questions. “i’m a doctor at the hospital y/n works at. i’ve known about her since way before she and i even met and i’ll be honest - it was love at first sight for me. but i didn’t think that she would ever look at me like how i looked at her.”

“youngest in her class to be a fellow. top graduate from one of the best schools in korea. at the forefront of innovation in her field. sincere and dedicated to all of her patients. she was just about perfect in every way, shape, or form. and then i met her in person.”

“she was gorgeous, intelligent, and every inch of a walking goddess that i had envisioned her to be. but she didn’t see me. not the way that i saw her. at first, i thought it was because of my age; the fact that i was a year younger than her. or perhaps that i wasn’t nearly as accomplished as her. or even that i scared her. i didn’t know what it was.”

“then one day, she casually mentioned you - jungwon - and her living situation. she mentioned in passing, like she wasn’t thinking about it but for some reason, it was stuck in my head. and then i realized that she didn’t see me because she wasn’t seeing any man - any man but you. so i tried to give up. i tried to forget it but when you know, you just know. no matter what i did to try and push away my attraction - writing it off as lust or just puppy love, i couldn’t. i was in deep.”

“and then…she walked into the hospital and suddenly i just knew. knew that even if she wasn’t completely over you, maybe i had a chance. maybe she would open her eyes and look at me - see me for me. see me the way i had been seeing her the whole time.”

“imagine my surprise when she confessed, drunk out of her mind, that she saw me at least somewhat like i saw her. we were both at the neuro department’s dinner and had one too many drinks. and with that confession and all that alcohol, one thing led to another and…we…slept together. i woke up with the woman of my dreams in my bed and i was beyond ecstatic - did this mean that we could progress past the relationship of a fellow and her resident? did she see me as a man instead of an immature person who followed her around?”

“she said she wanted to forget it ever happened. i didn’t know what to do. it felt like my entire world was crumbling to pieces. i had hoped, dreamed, and twisted my heart into so many different shapes that i didn’t think it could handle any more bending before breaking. did she just see me as a one night stand? or worse…did she even know that it was me? was her confession just an alcohol induced babble? i was lost. and then she stopped talking to me. avoided me when i came to talk to her. pretended she didn’t see my pages. assigned me to so many surgeries, i was too tired to search for her.”

“there were more times than i can count that i staked out in front of her office, determined to catch her and confront her. only to fall asleep before i could. i always woke up to a warm jacket wrapped around my shoulders and another intern waking me up to tell me to sleep in the on call room. i knew she cared - i just didn’t know why she was running away.”

“and then she kissed me and suddenly, nothing mattered anymore. she kissed me, she was in my arms, she was running and she chose to come back. and that’s all that mattered. everything else, i would figure out. i would help her fix it all. not because she needed me or my help. but because i wanted nothing more than to be hers. i wanted to be in every inch of her life that she would let me touch. i just wanted her to trust me and tell me everything that she’d been afraid of, excited for, and ever in love with. i wanted her past, to heal her. i wanted her future, to be a part of it. and i wanted her present, because i wanted her to realize just how beautiful she was. inside and out.”

“then came the pregnancy. when she was taking the test, i was nervous. not because i didn’t want a family with her. no. i knew from the moment she ran up to the elevator, flummoxed by the badging in system that she was the woman i wanted to marry. but i was nervous because i was scared she would run again. and this time, i was scared that she would run away from me. and there wasn’t a thought scarier than that. but she didn’t. she looked at one of the most frightening moments i can only imagine straight in the eyes, grabbed my hands, and decided to run headfirst.”

“i want to marry her, jungwon. she was my inspiration to be a better man before i ever even met her. when i was just her resident, there wasn’t an effort i spared to try and impress her so that she would notice me as anything other than just her resident. when we became something more, there wasn’t a star i didn’t thank for getting so lucky with her. and then when she became pregnant, there wasn’t a god i didn’t pray to that we would get through this and she would let me stand by her side. i want to marry her because she’s been in every beat of my heart since i started counting the moments that i have with her. i want to marry her because she’s been in every dream since i developed dreams beyond just waking up every morning. i want to marry her because i want to be there for her in all of her moments. when she’s sad, angry, happy, upset, frustrated, ecstatic, proud. i want to just be there for her in it all.”

“and as much as i hate it, this world won’t look kindly upon her if she were to give birth without a ring on her finger. to me, marriage is just a paper to declare something that i already know: i found the love of my life. but i want nothing more than for her success to be expressed in its fullest. i want people to look at her with all of the respect and love that she deserves. and if this world were any more fair, they would regardless of a baby. but if they won’t, i’ll do everything to protect her - and our child.”

for the first time in a very long time, your heart has never felt so light. even with everything, this was enough for you. you throw your arms around riki, not caring for who was watching or what they were thinking, tears streaming down your face.

“will you marry me?” he whispers into your hair, and you feel the weight of the velvet box in his pocket when he says the words. so tender. so gentle. so forgiving.

“i will, riki. i’ll marry you."

[tokyo, 1989]

jungwon doesn’t look at you. the door to the bedroom that the two of you are sitting is closed but you’re well aware that hyewon and riki have already left the apartment. they’d mumbled some excuse or another as they herded you and jungwon into the bedroom and shut the door behind them.

you look at jungwon, trying to memorize every curve and line of his face. not in the way that you used to, hoping that if you stared at him for long enough, you’d be able to commit his face to memory to carry you through long nights studying and clinical shifts.

just…because you forgot what it was like to search through every dip and curve of his face to read him. it had been so long since you’d felt like wanting to do so.

“you’re going to marry him?” he still doesn’t look at you.

“i’m gonna marry him,” you affirm. “he’s a good man, jungwon.”

jungwon sighs, hanging his head low between his knees. you look away, almost ashamed of causing jungwon to feel like he has to do so. it isn’t for another few moments that you realize that jungwon is crying.

as if there hadn’t been enough shocking moments today, jungwon’s shoulders start shaking as his sniffles grow louder.

“are you - are you crying?” you ask. it’s a stupid question but the universe has thrown one too many curveballs today.

jungwon doesn’t answer, but his cries grow even louder, despite his best attempts to conceal them. you watch for just a second longer before scooting over, weaving in between the boxes scattered across the room. you pause…but then you hug jungwon.

it was strange. it was jungwon that you were hugging. your jungwon. your first boyfriend. your first chance at universe’s best gift. your first love. but it didn’t feel the same. something had changed. it felt like you were hugging an old friend, one that you were greeting after years apart.

someone who’s changed in the absence but cares about you just the same.

“where did all fall apart, y/n? i couldn’t be happier with hyewon. she’s everything that i’ve ever needed. she loves me despite my flaws and my faults. she’s the most patient, loving woman i have ever had the pleasure of loving in life. she’s everything to me. she’s my everything. i couldn’t live without her but…where did…where did we end? was it the day we broke up? the day that you and sumin fought? when my parents confronted your grandparents? when your grandfather died? when we committed to the same college?”

you’re silent, unsure of what to say. when had it all fallen apart? but when you try to pinpoint a singular moment, you find that you’re unable to.

“i don’t know, jungwon. but you’re never going to stop being important to me,” you admit. “you’re always going to be my first love. and we have grown apart, into different people. i know it’s strange. but…i think it was meant to happen. it feels strange that someone who was my entire world is someone that i can walk away from - into a new apartment and into a new life. but trust me when i say this jungwon: i will always be here for you. think of us going back to the start. we never fell apart; we’re just going back to the way things were supposed to be. we’re going back to being friends.”

“i thought that you stopped loving me. i thought i stopped loving you. i was dead wrong about myself - i don’t think that i could ever stop loving you,” jungwon confesses. you smile, despite the tears in both of your eyes.

“jungwon. you know that it’s not the same. i will always love you. but i’m not in love with you. and you love me. but you’re not in love with me. i’m in love with riki, the man who challenges me and supports me in every way possible. you are in love with hyewon, the woman who inspires you to be a better man everyday.”

“this is all so complicated.”

“it’s life and we’re humans, jungwon. it’s all meant to be complicated.”

“how the hell are you gonna break this to sunghoon?”

“i was hoping i could leave that to you.”

“he already hates me. i’ll be sure to invite you to my funeral though.”

[tokyo, 1988]

“i hope to find love again,” you said, kissing the coin in your hand before flipping it into the fountain before sighing, gathering your bags as you headed towards the hospital to sign your paperwork.

on the opposite side of the fountain, unbeknownst to the you, a tall man stands, holding a coin tightly in his fist.

“i hope she’ll love me back one day,” riki wished, flipping the coin into the fountain.

maybe it was luck. maybe it was fate. or maybe it was the will of the universe when the coin flips onto the fountain and lands right next to where a young, heartbroken woman’s coin had fallen.

the two of you walk in opposite directions but life has a funny way of working out. between gray clouds and broken hearts and reconciliation, tokyo in the year 1988 would prove to be the year that everything fell apart and seemingly fixed itself all over again.

because that’s life. and life is beautiful, messy, complicated, and full of love if you know where to look.

306 notes · View notes

bcystar · 23 days ago

Text

— STAY FOR BREAKFAST

You enjoy his company for a bit longer

pairing: Joaquín x fem!reader

pt.2 here

wc: 1.4k

warning: mentions of alcohol, watching people while they sleep (?), reader is wearing a skirt and a baby tee of some sort.

authors note: I literally JUST finished this fic like ten minutes ago after holding off on it for like two months…she’s here now so yay! I’ve read all the new Joaquín fics so that really gave me a motivation to finish this…BUT honestly if yall want (if YALL want) I have an idea for a part two so if you’d like more then please comment so!!

The sound of banter fills your ears as Sam and Bucky start with their quips once more. You and Joaquín sat next to each other giggling at their antics, the alcohol in your blood streams amplifying the humor. You slowly start to calm your breath once more but one quick glance at Joaquín and you start to giggle again.

“I’m just saying, it’s kind of stupid that you always rip your sleeve off! What if someone asks to borrow your jacket one day? What you’re just gonna let them walk around with their bare left arm out?”

“It’s more practical! I can move it better without the sleeve!”

“What kind of clothes do you wear that makes it uncomfortable for you to move your arm!”

“There are some you know.”

“What you buy clothes made out of latex or something?”

You keep laughing.

“What do you guys think? Is it stupid or not?” Sam asks you and Joaquín.

“Uh…I mean I don’t think it’s stupid but it is kinda silly you know. Imagine you get into a fight on a mundane day and you go; “Hold up guys my sleeve is on too tight!” You reply, sipping your beer after letting out an airy chuckle after doing so.

“Whatever.” Bucky say rolling his eyes and taking a sip from his beer.

“C’mon man we’re just messing with you! We love you no matter the amount of sleeves you’ve got! Ain’t that right guys?”

“Yeah!” You and Joaquín reply simultaneously.

“Uh huh.” Bucky says while finishing his drink.

“Aw don’t be grumpy, Buck. What if I brought the next round? Hm?” You say poking him lightly.

“Nah I have to leave, it’s getting late.” Bucky replied getting up.

“Sam?”

“Ah I have to go too, early mission tomorrow.” Sam said, getting up and leaving with Bucky.

“Guess it’s just us now, Joaquín.” You smiled clinking your beer bottles together.

“Guess so.” He replied giving you a bright smile.

You both then moved to the bar after finishing your drinks quickly to make space for other guests entering as the night deepened. You and Joaquín spent the rest of the night talking and drinking without a care in the world. Except you drank a few drinks too many so now drunk you was rambling on and on to barely tipsy Joaquín about anything and everything.

“No that theory is so stupid! There’s no way Steve Rogers would ever actually leave his best friends. And for what? To time travel and live a whole different life with an already married woman? While knowing bad things are happening? Pfff he’s totally like watching over us from the Moon!” You blather.

“Conspiracy theories, especially about our friends’ friend, is our sign to leave. C’mon, Angel.” Joaquín slightly jokes while closing out your guys’ tab.

He takes your hand in his and makes it rest on his shoulder as he grabs your waist. He guides you out of the somewhat busy bar, dodging the drunk men and dancing women and pushes the door out of the bar open and the chilly air immediately flys against your skin. The cold doesn’t affect you much with the alcohol still freshly in your stream, but, it does seem to affect Joaquín. You hear him suck a sharp breath in and feel him shiver slightly against you. Still, disregarding his discomfort in the cold, he takes is jacket off and puts it over your shoulders.

“Mm don’t need to give it to me Joaquín. You clearly need it more than me.” You slur out while taking it off your shoulders.

“You’re in a skirt and oddly tiny shirt, how are you not cold?” He says while opening the passenger side door for you.

“Alcohol tends to keep you warm.” You mumble out before Joaquín chuckles and closes the door.

He finally sits in the driver seat and starts the engine, he waits a beat for the car to heat up a bit more before typing in your address to the gps and backing out of the parking lot.

The drive back to your house is quiet, the only source of sound being your snores hanging in the air and Joaquin’s hums. Joaquín hums to himself out of habit and turns his head to look at you at a red light. Your hair is a bit array with loose strands covering your face, your lips parted with your drunk snores escaping them, and your head leaning back on the area where the head rests base lays. He chuckles at himself when he sees the sight beside him, finding you absolutely endearing, he only gets pulled out of the trance you pulled him into when the light changes to a blinding green before him.

He accelerated carefully, hoping to not interrupt your sleep not realizing he was already almost in your neighborhood. The gps lets him know that he’d arrived at his destination as he drove closer and closer to your house. He pulls into your driveway and sits there for a moment, finally fully taking your beauty in, with no interruptions. At that moment he’d realized, you weren’t wearing a single ounce of makeup. Your face looked bare, the same face he’d spar with in the evenings, the same face he’d plan missions with late at night, and the same face he was absolutely in love with. He’d had feelings for you since the day Bucky’d introduced you as a new recruit to him and Sam. You were so charismatic and charming and so incredibly funny that he couldn’t help but fall for you. Ever since, he just let his crush on you simmer, scared of scaring you away with his feelings and ruining your friendship

He reluctantly teared his gaze off of you and got out of his car and made his way over to your front door. He got out your extra key from underneath your porch swing cushion and opened your front door. He then makes his way back to the car and picks you up bridal style, slamming the car door closed with his hip. He carries you through your door, into your house, and makes his way up to your room. He’d came over a few times, for game nights and mission debriefs alike, and you’d given him a house tour at some point.

He opened up your bedroom door, greeted with clothes leaking out of your closet (from changing your outfit so much). He grinned seeing the sight of it, slightly endearing him. It all felt so domestic. He imagined what it’d be like, watching you do your makeup, cuddling during the cold nights like this, cooking together, being domestic with him. Only when you let out anther soft snore is when he stops staring. He sits you up on your bed gently, waking you up.

“Where are we?” You mumble groggily.

“Back at your place, Angel.”

“Mmm” Is all you force out while hugging his waist, the side of your face pressing against his abs.

“Why don’t you change and drink some water hmm? That’ll make you feel better.”

At his words you remove your arms from around him and get up slowly. You stumble on your feet a little, alcohol still kicking in your system. Joaquín catches you as you stumble, his hands falling to your waist out of instinct.

“Woah whatcha tryna do there.” He says, still holding you.

“Getting my pjs dummy.”

“Okay sit down…” he guides you back down on the bed “now where are your pjs…?” He looks around the room.

“Top of the dresser.”

He steps over and picks up the silly yellow and white striped sleep shorts and shirt atop your dresser. He looks over at you as your eyes struggle to stay open, feeling like there’s weights attached to them. “Here, I’ll get you some water and pain killers.” All you can do is nod lazily.

By the time he’s back with what you need, you’re knocked out in bed. He can hear the same snores you let out in the car resume but somehow, you look much more beautiful now. He softly walks over to your bedside table and rests the Advil and water bottle on it. He analyzes your chest moving up and down so calmly and he feels another smile creep up his face.

“Goodnight, Angel.” He presses a soft kiss on your temple. As he’s rising back up, he feels a force holding him in place.

“Stay for breakfast.” Is all you let out, your eyes still closed.

If you ask so politely, how can he deny you?

#— spu’s stories 📝#marvel #captain america #avengers #joaquin torres #danny ramirez #fanfiction #fanfic #joaquin torres x reader #writing prompt #mcu #joaquin torres x you

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inlovewithpandora · 3 months ago

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₊˚⊹♡ — Love Letter #1: UNDER THE STARS

Fearturing — Cowboy!Miguel x Farmer’s!daughter!reader

Lyrics — After discovering you’ve never had a “real” Valentine’s Day Miguel makes it his mission to make the day special for you. When you see the thoughtful setup he’s planned and how much effort he put in, you thank him in a way he wasn’t expecting.

Duration —3.8-4.0k

Music Advisory — Fluff, Smut [mature audiences only], country!au, takes place on Valentine’s Day, implied situationship, kissing, oral (blowjob/handjob) [m!receiving], implied p in v, allusions to sex, slight face-fucking, semi-public sex, implied exhibition kink [if you squint]

Words From Artist — This is my first fic for my Valentine’s Day event and I’m so glad I’m finally posting it because it took me a while to finish. I’m working on other fics for this dynamic but I really wanted to make something for the season of love. Always feel free to comment and reblog, I love reading y’all reactions! I hope you enjoy!!

₊˚⊹♡ — If you would like to read more of the Cowboy!Miguel and Farmer’s!daughter!reader click here!

Current Platforms — Valentines Day Event M.list • Main M.list • Special Events Taglist

The sun has just dipped below the horizon, leaving a constellation of stars hanging above the wide, open sky. The night is quiet except for the sound of cicadas in the distance and the soft rustling of the wind through the trees. It’s the kind of peaceful evening that makes everything feel right with the world.

But somehow tonight feels different. You can feel the shift in the atmosphere, a knot tying in your stomach, a tinge of unplaced excitement, and a strange feeling you can’t shake. Maybe the reason is because it’s Valentine’s Day and love is in the air, or maybe it’s the way your thoughts have been lingering on Miguel all week.

Miguel isn’t one for holidays, at least not the popular ones that everyone adores. Flowers, chocolates, fancy dinners, all those things never really mattered to him since he’s considers himself a simple man. But when you told him that you’ve never really had a proper Valentine’s Day, the kind with the romantic gestures and filled with the classic clichés, his heart ached. To him you deserve that, you deserve all the sweetness in the world even though he’s not great with grand gestures or romantic words, so once he’s done working around the farm he starts planning a simple yet special night for the two of you.

He spent the last few hours preparing, scouting out the perfect spot on the acres of land and after searching he found a hill just far enough from the ranch. The place was perfect, the stars would be bright, the cool air would breeze through, and it’s in a secluded area so you both can have your privacy. It’s not much, but it’s his way of showing you that you mean something to him.

Now, with his horse saddled and ready, Miguel is making his way to you. The rhythm of the horse’s steps matches the pounding of his heart as he thinks about how he’s going to approach you and what he’s going to say. He’s never been the type of man that gets nervous but when it comes to you and romantic situations like this everything feels different.

As he reaches your house, he finds you outside, sitting on the porch steps while your attention is focused on your phone, your face illuminated by the soft glow of the porch light that’s shining above you. When you hear the sounds of a horse trotting you look up, surprised to see him since you thought he already went home for the day. “Miguel?” you ask, raising an eyebrow while standing up and placing your phone in your pocket. “What are you doing here?”

He smirks, trying to keep his cool, but there’s an edge of nervousness in his voice that he can’t hide from you and you most definitely take notice of it. “C’mon, cariño. Got somethin’ to show you.”

“What is it?”

Miguel extends his hand to you, giving you a small smile. “You’ll see,” he says, trying to sound casual even though his heart feels like it’s about to beat out your chest. “Get on.” he gestures his head to the horse, wanting you to ride with him instead of taking your own horse like when you two usually go out together.

You instantly agree and allow him to whisk you away, grabbing his hand and swinging yourself onto the horse before wrapping your arms around his torso. The night air feels cool against your skin, and the rhythmic sound of the horse’s hooves hitting the dirt path fills the silence between you and Miguel and allows your rampant thoughts to roam your mind, wondering where Miguel could be taking you.

After almost twenty minutes of making small talk and sitting in a comfortable silence when neither of you could find the words to say, you finally make it to your destination. Miguel stops the horse, swinging his leg over and allowing his feet to hit the ground. “We’re here.” He helps you down, his hands firm on your waist as he slowly lowers you to your feet.

The warmth of his touch lingers even after he pulls away, and you can’t help but smile as he takes your hand, leading you toward whatever surprise he’s prepared. Within a few seconds you start seeing items spread out on the ground and once you're able to get a closer look at what Miguel set up, causing a soft gasp to leave your lips.

You see a large quilt covering the ground to act as a place for you and Miguel to sit, there’s a basket filled with your favorite snacks and drinks, including some moonshine that you enjoyed the last time you and him went to a dive bar. He knows how much you liked the sweet burn of it, the way it made you giggle and feel carefree, so he made sure to bring some for you both to enjoy, and so he could tease you once you start feeling the effects.

There’s a small lantern placed nearby that he brought from the barn, providing ample amounts of light to shine around you two so you can see since it’s dark in the countryside. But what makes your heart flutter is the bouquet of flowers resting beside the basket, the same ones you pointed out to him a few days ago when you were in the city and told him it was a beautiful arrangement.

You walk over to the quilt, running your hand over the soft material, your voice soft with appreciation as you soak in the scenery. “Miguel, this is beautiful.” You weren’t expecting anything tonight, especially not from him. You had convinced yourself that Valentine’s Day wasn’t something you needed to care about, that it wasn’t worth the trouble when you and Miguel weren’t even official yet.

You two have been dancing around whatever this was for months so neither of you had put a name to it but now, standing here, looking at everything he’s put together just for you, makes a warmth fill your chest.

“You said you never had a real Valentine’s Day, so… I figured I could make it happen.” As Miguel speaks he shifts his weight while crossing his arms, sort of downplaying the effort he put in. It’s something about the way he says it, like it’s just a simple fact, like he hadn’t spent hours preparing and planning, like he hadn’t gone out of his way to gather all your favorite things and create the perfect atmosphere.

When you hear the nervousness in his voice, and notice how he’s trying his best to keep a steady tone, it makes you realize that this is his way of saying he cares. Miguel is a very calculated man, he has his own way of dealing with his feelings, confronting situations, and sometimes he has his walls up so seeing him do something sweet like this makes you feel special.

You turn to face him, and the look in your eyes softens. You smile at him, the same smile that makes his heart skip and his stomach twist in ways he still isn’t used to because it shows how deep his feelings are for you. Without saying a word, you close the space between you, reaching up and placing your hand on his face and pulling him down to your height.

He stiffens for a second, his breath hitching while his eyes flicker between your eyes and lips, and then you press a soft kiss to his lips. It’s not rushed or desperate. The kiss is slow, lingering, like you’re savoring the moment, like you want to physically show him how much this display of affection means to you. Miguel instantly melts into it and your bodies come together, his rough hands wrapping around your waist, pulling you in so he can feel the warmth of your body against his.

When you pull away, your fingers trace absentmindedly along his jaw, loving how he makes you feel and that he’s slowly seeping into your heart. “You’ve made this the best Valentine’s Day I’ve ever had.” you whisper, wrapping your arms around his torso and pulling him into a hug, wanting him to know how much you appreciate the effort to make today special for you. “Thank you, Mig.”

Miguel exhales a breath he didn't even realize he was holding, his arms instinctively tightening around you as he buries his face into your hair. Your warmth, your scent, the way you just fit perfectly against him, it all makes his chest tighten in a way he doesn't quite know how to handle. He never thought much about Valentine's Day before, never cared for it or celebrated, but standing here, holding you, feeling your love radiating off of you, he realizes that maybe it's not about the holiday itself. Maybe it's about who you spend it with.

"You don't gotta thank me, cariño." he murmurs, voice low and husky as his lips brush against the shell of your ear, making your body instantly quiver. "Just wanted to do somethin' nice for you."

You smile against his chest, your fingers slipping beneath the hem of his shirt, tracing lightly over his warm skin. "Well, I still think you deserve a thank you." Miguel looked so sexy tonight, he’s wearing a worn denim shirt with his sleeves rolled up which shows his muscles, a pair of dark jeans, his favorite cowboy boots, and of course his signature cowboy hat. With how attractive he looks and all the feelings that are coursing through your veins you want to express your appreciation to him in a physical sense.

Miguel pulls back just enough to look at you, raising an eyebrow at the teasing glint that’s shimmering in your eyes. He doesn't miss the way your fingers linger against his stomach, nails lightly scratching against his abs, a gentle touch that’s creating a slow heat to emerge in his groin. "That so?" He’s surprised that this is what you meant by ‘thanking him’ but he doesn’t mind one bit, he loves seeing you on your knees for him so he knows he’s about to enjoy what comes next.

"Mhm." You tilt your head up at him, your voice gentle yet playful as you lead him towards where the quilt lies on the ground. "And I think I know exactly how to show you just how much I appreciate all this..." Once he’s where you want him your hands move to his jeans, unbuckling his leather belt and unzipping his pants, a small smirk spreading across your lips when you see the outline of his hardened cock that’s ready to be released.

When your hands slip inside his pants, pulling his boxers down just enough for his heavy cock to spring free, sends a shiver through him from both your touch and the cool breeze flowing by. Miguel’s eyes are solely focused on you, watching you get on your knees and toss your hair over one shoulder, before spitting on his cock, using your palm and spreading it on his shaft and slowly stroking his length. For him, you have to use both hands. Since his cock is so large and thick you need both to make sure there’s full coverage and no part of him is neglected.

“Fuck, cariño.” He mutters, his hands resting on the back of his head to keep them occupied, feeling his cock pulse as you strategically maneuver your hands on his shaft. He loves when you give him head, there’s something special about the way you tend to him, it’s delicate, thrilling, and sensual. No other woman can make his body react the way you do and that alone makes him want to spray you his seed down your pretty little throat.

“You want me to suck it, cowboy?” It sounds like a rhetorical question but you’re truly looking for an answer despite you already knowing the answer by his body language. You love a vocal man and that’s definitely Miguel, plus you know that he loves hearing your cute country accent and you want to do anything that’ll drive him closer to his peak.

“You know I do, querida.” And with that you switch techniques. You give his tip a light kiss, allowing your saliva to pool in your mouth before sticking out your tongue and allowing it to drip onto his tip, making his cock nice and slippery so you can give him the sloppiest blowjob possible, just the way Miguel likes.

The kisses and little kitten licks feel incredible, he enjoys the satisfaction it brings his body when he feels you drag your tongue up and down the underside of his dick, how the tip of it glazes over his prominent veins and makes him shudder but he absolutely hates the teasing. Usually he’s a patient man, allowing you to move at a comfortable pace but tonight he doesn’t want to wait. “Come on, baby. Don’t tease me.”

“Fine, but only because you’re cute.” You reply with a soft giggle, obeying his wishes and placing your plump lips over the tip of Miguel’s pretty cock, allowing your tongue to run over his slit, causing his mouth to fly open from the unexpected sensation. Things started off nice and slow in the beginning with slow strokes with your hand around the base of his cock, dragging the flat of your tongue around his tip, and gently caressing his balls to make things a little more spicy.

Soon things escalate quickly, Miguel’s hips jerk and he throws his head back with a groan when you hollow out your cheeks, taking a few more inches of him in your mouth and allowing your hand to cover the area you couldn’t reach. It’s so hard for the cowboy not to just shove your head against his pelvis and force all of him down your throat, so instead he starts to lightly thrust, causing you to gag around his length and the warmth of your mouth to engulf him.

As you hold onto Miguel’s meaty thighs to help you keep your balance, you can feel them trembling, one of the few signs that he’s about to bust. To match the rhythms of his lazy thrusts you bob your head up and down, licking the pre-cum that leaks from his tip and allowing it to settle on your tongue, enjoying the salty taste of him on your palate. The wet noises that you’re making are going straight to his dick and seeing the small spit bubbles that are forming in the corners of your mouth, makes it twitch between your lips.

You look up at Miguel through your lashes, you’re pretty hypnotizing, eyes locking with his dark one’s, wanting to see every face he makes when he cums. By looking at him you can tell he’s holding back for reasons you don’t understand. Miguel always sees you as a delicate flower that should be cherished which you adore but you can tell he wants things a little rougher and frankly you’re not mad at it, you would actually love for him to get rough with you.

When you notice him lowering one of his arms to lightly pull up his shirt so it doesn’t get in the way of your performance, you take his hand and place it on the back of your head, silently granting him access to fuck your throat. Once Miguel feels his palm against your hair it unlocks something inside him. His hand tangles in your hair, pressing your head downward, causing his tip to repeatedly press against the back of your throat.

“That’s it, cariño… just—fuck, like that.” He groans with a strained voice, not being able to hold himself back anymore. Miguel loves this feeling, especially when your throat opens up for him to go deeper and the vibrations from your cheeks are getting stronger the more he pushes your head towards him. Once he pushes you to your limit, taking one hard thrust and causing your nose to press against his pelvis, you moan loudly around his cock and your nails to slightly dig into his skin trying to brace yourself from the unexpected movement.

"Shit, baby... 'bout to-" Miguel warns, his stomach clenching as his high creeps up on him fast. You don't let up, doubling down, wanting to see him fall apart completely. The cowboy shudders, his grip on your hair tightening, his cock pulsing in your mouth while spewing lines of his thick seed down your throat, making a series of moans, praises, and a few curses in his native tongue fall from his lips.

You can’t really understand what he’s saying, due to you not knowing a lick of Spanish but by the way his mouth hangs open and his brows knit together you can tell he’s enjoying himself. Once he comes down from his high and he feels you swallow the remaining ounces of his seed, he slowly pulls away from your wet and swollen lips that are coated in his juices.

Miguel doesn’t even give you a chance to clean yourself up before he wraps his hands around your waist, picking you up and walking further towards the middle of the quilt before gently laying you down, placing his hand on your back and lowering you onto the soft fabric, his broad muscular physique hovering over your smaller frame.

His eyes, dark and heavy with lingering desire, trace over your face, memorizing every flushed detail in your features. His fingers graze your cheek before trailing down your jaw, his thumb brushing over your swollen lips, a silent reminder of what just transpired.

Miguel exhales deeply, his breath warm as he begins to press a firm kiss on your neck, another on your collarbone, and then one right above your cleavage. His movements are slow and deliberate, savoring each reaction he draws from you. His hands, strong and calloused, explore the curves of your body, fingertips ghosting over your ribs, your waist, before settling at your hips, making his way to the waistband of your shorts so he can take them off.

His fingers hook onto the fabric, tugging the material lightly, giving you a moment to stop him but you don't. Your breath catches as he peels the shorts down your legs and tosses them to the side, his touch igniting a trail of heat down your abdomen that goes straight to your core. When you feel his fingers tug at your panties, about to pull them down and reveal your pussy, you grab his hand, feeling a little nervous for a second.

“Mig, what if someone comes out here and sees us?” Your voice comes out in a hushed whisper, laced with both nervousness and excitement. The thought of being caught by anyone in your town is mortifying, especially since gossip spreads like a wildfire around here but you and him already went halfway when you sucked his dick so you don’t understand why your nerves are eating you up now.

Miguel chuckles softly, the sound low and smug as he leans in, his lips brushing gently against your jaw. "Now you're worried, querida?" he murmurs, his voice dripping with amusement, thinking it’s funny that you’re now worried about peeping Tom’s after you just finished deepthroating and slobbing all over his dick with no hesitation.

Your stomach twists, a mixture of nerves and exhilaration bubbling inside you. The logical part of your mind knows this is reckless, dangerous even, but the way Miguel looks at you a unrelenting hunger, like he wants to devour you until tears are rolling down your face, makes it hard to care about the consequences. You've already crossed the line, let yourself be consumed by him, and the thrill of it all is just as intoxicating as the man himself.

His lips trail down your neck, peppering kisses that make your breath hitch, making your nerves slowly disappear. "You weren't shy a few minutes ago," he teases, his fingers skimming over your exposed skin, tracing slow, deliberate patterns. "I think you like the risk."

And maybe he’s right, maybe you do like the thrill it brings. Maybe that's why you don't push him away, why your fingers tangle in his hair instead, pulling him closer to your body. "Plus no one's gonna come out here but even if they did.." His voice deepens slightly, his lips ghosting over yours in a mesmerizing manner. "Let them see how good I make you feel."

Heat pools between your thighs at his words, but you still bite your lip, unsure of what to do which Miguel notices, always being attentive when it comes to you. "If you don't want this, just say the word," he adds, his voice softer now, wanting to make sure you’re comfortable before he takes things further. "'I’ll stop."

His sincerity, how he cares about how you feel and won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do makes your heart flutter. You trust him, more than anyone you’ve ever been with and right now, with the stars above you, the warmth of his body pressed against yours, and his heavy cock resting on your stomach, makes the thrill of the moment outweigh the risk of being seen.

Swallowing your nerves, you slowly loosen your grip on his wrist, allowing his fingers to slide past the waistband of your panties. Miguel watches you carefully, searching your face for any hint of hesitation. When he doesn’t detect any, his smirk returns. "That's my girl," he whispers before pressing his lips against yours, his fingers finally pulling them down and allowing him to feel your wet pussy, your juices smeared across your folds, practically begging to be licked.

Miguel groans at the sight, his pupils blown when your alluring scent fills his nostrils as he takes in every inch of you. His large hands slide up your thighs, spreading them apart with a firm but gentle touch. The cool night air brushes against your exposed skin, sending a shiver down your spine, but it's nothing compared to the heat radiating from Miguel's body as he settles between your legs.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his fingers tracing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh before he finally touches you where you need him most, drawing a gasp from your lips. He watches your reaction closely, reveling in every small sound and movement you make, as if he’s memorized by them.

The thrill of the moment, being out in the open, of surrendering completely to him and allowing him to be in control, slowly overwhelms you. Your body arches instinctively, pressing into his touch, silently begging for more, wanting his cock to reach the depths of your womb until you're filled with his seed. Miguel leans down and captures your lips in another yet kiss, swallowing every whimper and moan he pulls from you.

Miguel’s lips pull away from yours, but his touch remains, tender and firm. His thumb gently strokes your cheek as he looks at you with a softness that contrasts the intensity of his earlier actions. You both share a quiet moment, basking in the warmth of each other’s presence before taking things to the next level.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, cariño.” he whispers, his voice low and affectionate, wanting you to know that he cares and has a place in his heart reserved just for you.

You smile, feeling warmth spread through your chest at the simple yet heartfelt words, looking at him with pure love in your eyes. There's something in the way Miguel looks at you that makes everything feel perfect, and you can't help but feel a sense of love for him. "Happy Valentine's Day, Miguel." you whisper, your voice full of affection. It's simple, but at this moment, it means everything.

His smile deepens, and you realize this is exactly where you're meant to be, together, sharing something real and special. No expectations, just the two of you, and for once, everything feels right.

Fanbase — @Yoitsseulgi @migueloharasoulmate @novaaahearts @d0ubl-tr0ubl3 @tater-tot0423 @theitgurl2 @miguelsesposa @maxlynn17 @iwanttogohomeandtakeanap @kxllanxtdoor @ban-al3x @miguellover6969 @beargracecanbeanyone @taylormarieee @h3art-l3ss @mellagzz @em-x0 @3zae-zae3 @onlyloaksgf @popeheywardssecretgf @solanawrld @baizzhu @soilmayo @savagemickey03 @honey-bee2002 @str4wb4ries @kodellyy @hellokittyontop @sin4tra @mrs-pondwater19 @simp2537 @kissestothesuun @ilovegodfr @bala-bala3 @postcardgirl425 @regan18 @aistelloom @syd-bii @wildflowerkive @angel-of-the-moons

#₊˚⊹♡ — Sealed With A Kiss: Valentine’s Day Event #ʚଓ — farmer’s!daughter!reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel smut #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara x black!reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel spiderverse #country!au #cowboy!miguel #cowboy!au #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara fluff #atsv smut #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara #miguel x you

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glitch-but-ya · 1 month ago

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You write fanfiction— The LADs men

A/N: Just a filler post. It’s kinda annoying to work on two fics where both readers have vastly different personalities. I keep mixing them up so I just gave up and stuck to working on the Caleb fic first. But, good news is, the fic is almost done! I’m at the last act :3

Xavier:

Your work is one of the few pieces of writing he doesn’t fall asleep while reading.

No matter how sleepy he was prior to this, he would be wide awake, pondering each poetic sentence and dissecting meanings behind them.

Would pay attention to every little detail hidden in your work, even when it’s something most overlook.

Asks you about your recent fanfics when he sees you.

If you write smut, he probably eats it up like a freak and tries to pick up on the things you desire.

Your biggest fan. Has a dedicated account (main or alt) to just liking and reblogging your work. Whatever you post. Even if it’s just a casual post or answering a fan’s questions.

Probably compliments your work in the tags.

Has multiple accounts just to like your work. Also has a secret account where he argues tooth and nail with every hater you encounter.

Bonus: Would secretly be jealous of the characters you admire a bit too much.

Rafayel:

The proudest man on earth.

Literally. He considers writing (even trivial things like fanfiction) a form of art so he is genuinely so happy you’re an artist like him.

Would bombard you with random new fanfiction ideas.

If you write for a new fandom, he would search it up and watch/read it the same day.

If you include poetic things into your writing, he would bring it up in a conversation and hold discussions on it, offering his thoughts and opinions and helping you both learn.

Would be more chill than Xavier, but he’d definitely be pouty if you favour a character too much.

Leaves dramatic comments. Like, “HOW DARE HE >:O” and such. His comments never fail to hype you up.

PUBLICLY argues with your haters.

Treasures your work as if it was the finest piece of literature ever penned. Wouldn’t be surprised if he rewrites it on a canvas with ink and frames it on his wall.

Bonus: Secretly is the one making 90% of the requests. And usually it’s those vulgar, insane ones. He’s just a girl 🎀

Zayne:

Subtle about his adoration. Would silently like every single one of your posts, but he wouldn’t really comment or reblog them.

With that being said, he will never forget to compliment your work when he sees you, though.

Would analyze every letter and syllable to the point where he can somehow decipher how or what you were feeling or thinking from your writing alone.

He would never admit it, though. He’d only silently know and if he thinks you need a hug, he will try and be there for you more often.

On top of compliments, he provides you with genuine constructive criticism without overwhelming you or making you feel insecure about your work.

But he’s not too good with parts of the writing that include emotions. I imagine it to go somewhat like… “But the phrasing is a little confusing. Could you explain the reasoning behind it?” “It’s for emotional depth, Zayne…” “Ah… I see.”

Don’t be mistaken!! Even though he is scare with his compliments, he doesn’t admire your work any less than the other LIs!

Believes that a person’s art is a reflection of their self, so he tries to see you in your work.

Sylus:

Like all, he is the biggest fan of your work.

Probably has a thousand secret accounts he uses to like and reblog your posts.

Spends alot of money (which is, of course, insignificant to him) blazing your posts and promoting them.

But, if you prefer a quieter fanbase, he would respect that as well.

Nonetheless, expect him to like your work on all his accounts the moment it’s released.

Suddenly you’re wondering how your post garnered 1000 likes in the first hour.

If you’re writing a series, he would ask you when the next chapter is coming out.

You won’t have a single hater as long as Sylus is around. If anyone does so much as dare to comment a single vulgar word aimed towards you or your work, they get a message in their inbox listing their address and personal info.

And then, the next day, their comment is gone. You wonder what could’ve happened.

Like Zayne, he’d give you his advice and some constructive criticism whilst somehow uplifting your work at the same time when asked.

If you include any philosophies in your work, he’d bring it up and discuss it with you. He loves hearing your thoughts, whether it be complex or casual.

Memorises the quotes he likes from your fanfics and actively uses them irl.

Your work would probably be the first and only one to elicit an emotional reaction from him.

If you have any dreams as an author, he would definitely offer to find you a publisher and pay for all costs. He just wants to see you fulfil your dreams, even if you’d abandoned them.

Caleb:

A LOUD fan of your work.

Probably sends it to all his friends (poor Gideon) and boasts about how his partner is such a talented writer.

Reblogs with captions and tags, comments on, and likes each one of your work.

Like Rafayel, his comments are dramatic and encouraging. He doesn’t just compliment your work. He SHOWS that he’s read it.

Avid, shameless smut reader. Would EAT those fics up. Especially if they were penned by you.

Probably sends those to his friends too (poor Gideon).

Blazes each of your posts. Even the stupid ones. Manages to increase your fanbase by a bunch. The month you revealed your acc to him, you suddenly gained a hundred new followers.

If you want a smaller fanbase, he’d be content with that as well. He loves the idea of being one of the few people to read such a masterpiece.

Definitely knew about your acc even before you revealed it to him. If you had previous accounts growing up on either tumblr or AO3, he’d be secretly reading your work via an alt account.

Don’t ask how he found your acc.

Would definitely engrave all the things you want in a partner into his brain and work on them secretly.

Probably has a diary dedicated to analyzing and complimenting your work.

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cochineal-leviat · 3 months ago

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The morning after

Prev / Next

I have to be honest; I did not expect how much people would love the fic and comic I made. I am still flabbergasted at how many people commented on the fic and left me such lovely tags and remarks here on tumblr. Thank you so much for all of that. They really made my week last week. I was walking on sunshine throughout it all.

I was going to leave the comic as is, but all the support and adoration fired me up, so I decided to continue the comic ^_^.

I based the table spread on what is typical around my area and then added grapes and an apple because Siffrin was not getting any good nutrients from what was on his plate.

It is unsurprising who my favourite character is, seeing how much I drew Odile in these two pages. Also, I did not mean for Odile to look like the Grinch at the bottom of page 1, but it just kind of sort of happened, and then it was too funny to erase it. Happy accidents and all.

The comic pages without the text is under keep reading

No coloured version this time because the colours I used initially don't look that good. Dude, I love Odile so much. I am pleased with how she turned out.

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becausebuckley · 3 months ago

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michelle's buddie fic recs: week 6!

and what a week it's been... idk about you all, but i'm very much looking forward to all the 8b spec fic after seeing That One Leak...

this is a mix of fics with all ratings, so some include NSFW content. please take a look at both the ratings and the fic tags before reading! some might also contain spoilers for season 8.

if you come across something you like in this list, remember to show some love to the author by leaving kudos and a comment!

a graveyard in blue | moonlightmornings/@moonlight-mornings | 12.9k | GA

After a call goes south because of limited resources and an equipment malfunction, Eddie's brave move to rescue a young girl takes a nasty turn. i love how this captures the energy and vibe of a rescue!! genuinely feels straight out of an episode <3

and i'd do it over and over again | playinginthunderstorms/@playinginthunderstorms | 4.4k | E

Buck and Eddie hook up at the end of "Confessions". oh when i tell you i savoured this one... such a wonderful fic that captures buddie's first time so so perfectly!! i love how their dynamic is written here <3

everything in between | simplyylupin | 2.1k | T

They’re quiet for a moment, mulling over the unsaid, and then Buck’s bringing his phone closer to his face, eyes squinting. “Are you naked?” the absolute codependency of these two <3 so good!!

hot ghost problems | ebjameston/@ebjameston | 40.9k | T

The ghost would prefer to go by Buck, if Eddie wouldn’t mind. this was a reread! i was reminded of the magic system here and revisited it - can confirm that magic and ghosts and all that are so very good here, and i love the diaz siblings!!

i'll tell them put me back in it (and i would do it again) | paleredheadinascifi | 4.8k| T

Eddie doesn't know how to make his listening history private. Buck doesn't know what to do with the words in front of his eyes. Chris cannot believe he has to deal with either of them. the sheer brilliance of this concept... such a lovely look at the buckley-diaz dynamics! i was smiling the whole way through <3

it's golden, like daylight | rarakiplin/@hoediaz | 8.7k | T

“Shut up,” fingers dig into his ribs, “I mean, would you want to? Be married again?” such wonderful firefam dynamics!! i read this last week, i think, and already reread it this past week as well. a new favourite for sure <3

lonely little love dog | littleghost/@ghostlandtoo | 24k | M

When the 118 is closed for reconstruction after an earthquake, Buck is a floater for different stations around the city. He tries not to let it get to him. Much. this is such a fascinating look at buck's character!! and i LOVED the mara scene <3

parabola | semperama/@semperama | 4.6k | T

“Hey, uh. By the way.” Buck’s been thinking about this, and he has to say it now, or it’ll explode out of him at a much worse time, in a much worse way. “Make sure you don’t forget to change your will again.” truly no fic captures the angst with a happy ending tag like this. also this fic is how i learned that there's a special ao3 tag for eddie's will, which sounds about right. anyway, point is, this is wonderful!!

the last shred of truth in the lost myth of true love | lemonzestywrites/@lemonzestywrites | 25.7k | E

After the events of 6x13, Buck is worried he's lost his charm in bed. Eddie eagerly offers his services to prove otherwise. a reread of one of my favourite fics <3 there's something about the intersection of smut and feelings realisation and introspection in this fic that just hits so very hard, it's lovely <3

the whale fall principle | fastcardotmp3/@fastcardotmp3 | 95.5k | M

Daniel Buckley lives, but he’s still deciding what that means. Maddie is having a baby, but it isn’t her husband’s. And Evan knows his purpose. Until he doesn’t anymore. okay so definitely heed the creator chose not to use archive warnings tag here (there are specific warnings in the chapter notes) but holy shit, this fic. genuinely the best buckley sibling dynamics i have read, like, maybe ever. such a wonderful eddie and chimney and everyone, and such gorgeous writing!! if this one sounds up your alley, you're in for a treat <3

to ebb and flow | akapeterman/@akapeterman | 5.1k | GA

buck is sick, eddie is worried, and christopher is an angel. they'll be okay. i've really been vibing with sickfics lately, can you tell? this is another lovely lovely fic, such great hurt/comfort/domestic fluff!!

wait for me to come home | written_promises | 1.9k | GA

Eddie comes back home to LA from Texas to find Buck waiting for him… in his bed. Because he’s been living in Eddie’s home. and eddie's bed is exactly where buck should be<3 so soft and sweet and beautiful!!

we return to each other in waves | cozycatwriter/@leon-trans-kennedy | 3.1k | GA

“Yes I do. Of course I do. You saved Chris and looked after him the best you could during a tsunami-and you’re still recovering from an embolism from having your leg crushed on the job. The least I could do is look after you and let you stay the night. Besides, Chris would want you to stay.” post-tsunami fics my beloveds <3 it genuinely makes me so happy to see new ones pop up, and this is truly an excellent one!! i love the bed-sharing especially!

you need a friendly hand (and i need action) | AmZamReads | 13.1k | E

Eddie picks up pottery as a hobby and accidentally blows up on Instagram for "accidentally" posting thirst traps of him throwing on the wheel. Buck stumbles across the account and immediately becomes obsessed with Eddie's hands, and horny shenanigans ensues. this fic makes me wish i could make pottery. i love eddie's pottery friends!! and a lovely buddie dynamic too <3

#happy reading everyone!!#i hope you find something you like on this list <3 #buddie #buddie fic #buddie fic rec #911 abc #911 fic #911 fic rec #michelle's recs #fic rec list

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morganitering · 1 year ago

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Because I'm the Weakest

Pairing: yandere!Satosugu x fem!reader

Warnings: Rape/non-con, Dead dove, darkfic, dissociation, trauma, rape fantasy, rape aftermath, vomiting (not during sex), unhealthy relationships, non-consensual drug usage, drugged sex, canon typical violence, sexism, implied/referenced alcohol usage/abuse

Contains: F/M/M, spitroasting, oral sex, penis in vagina sex, blow jobs, face-sitting, come play, overstimulation, voyeurism, slight size kink, humiliation/degradation, vaginal fingering, mentioned Nanami.

Word count: ~6,5k

Summary: Growing up as a female sorcerer has not been easy, especially when you are overshadowed by two prodigies. You used to form a tight-knit friend group, but now in adulthood everyone battled their own demons whether it be a god complex or feelings of inferiority. Gojo Satoru revives a group chat that was almost long forgotten, inviting you and his boyfriend for a long weekend, just like the old days. Before the regrettable night, you wouldn't have ever thought that you'd need to raise a fist against a friend.

A/N: Hey everyone, another fic but this time featuring our two favorite dudes with insanity turned to the max. This fic is once again full of warnings and proceed with caution and read the tags! Remember to take care of yourself. Otherwise enjoy and feel free to like and comment <3

read on ao3 PART II

“Booring,” Satoru complained audibly as he looked through the streaming services’ different movies and series. The little icons changed from bombshell babes to twisted faces with titles written in blood. He was sprawled over the corner of a ridiculously huge couch and he was wiggling his foot as a nervous tick of his. He wasn’t wearing his usual garb, instead he had opted for something more relaxed and comfortable.

“If you’re so bored you should help us out in the kitchen,” Suguru sighed, his black hair draping over his shoulders, still slightly wet from the shower he had taken earlier. When you had pointed out that he was leaving droplets of water everywhere where he went, Suguru had just smiled at you and told you that it’s better for hair to air dry.

He held a knife in his right hand and the other one held onto a cucumber to keep it in place. His fingers were slender but by no means unmanly. Suguru wasn’t too fixated on the vegetable in front of him, chopping away with confidence only experience would provide.

“And where would the fun be in that since I got you two as my private chefs?” Satoru pouted as he shoveled candy in his face.

“You’re going to lose your appetite, if you eat candy now,” you chimed in, poking the halloumi that kept on sizzling on the pan. The water evaporated in a mist that warmed your cheeks in the cool apartment. It wasn’t actually cold in the open plan kitchen, but you had spent long enough in front of the appliances to break a sweat.

“I’d eat it anyway,” the white haired man whined as he got up from the couch finally settling on a tv series that started playing mindlessly in the background. “So, what am I supposed to do?” He asked after grabbing a piece of pomegranate from a small see through bowl. He walked behind you both like a shark, eyeing the ingredients and you, uncomfortably close.

“Set the table and learn to bitch less,” you joked.

“You wound me,” Satoru said, feigning sadness, but did as he was told.

The three of you were residing in an apartment that Satoru had bought himself from one of the skyscrapers surrounding Tokyo. After Jujutsu High it had gotten increasingly hard for the three of you to meet as adult responsibilities weighed heavily on both of their shoulders, – especially Satoru’s, but you saw the similar pain carried in Suguru just as well.

You were not weak, but you could not compare to the two prodigies. On the days when you felt down, the pain of third wheeling constantly ate you up, sometimes so much so that you rather left the two men talking together in the group chat. It furthered the wedge between you and them, until the messages became sparse and you almost could pretend not to know them.

It had been six months since the last time you met, but one day Satoru broke the silence and a notification popped up from your shared chat. It had taken you by a surprise, you were vaguely aware that even him and Suguru had issues with fitting each other in their lives, due to individual missions and what not. So the fact that Satoru decided to deliberately send a message to you as well, got you anxiously excited. He reached out to you. You. A high school friend that barely kept in touch with him.

“Guys! I refuse to work this weekend so come to my place. Let’s have a get together like the good old times ❤️ ❤️?? A little sleepover if you will!”

“Lol what about the higher ups?” Suguru had asked, typing back way too fast.

“Actually never mind I don’t want to be made into an accomplice in your crimes,” Suguru had continued.

“Am I invited too?” You had asked, hands shaking slightly as you stared at the bright screen, already tucked into bed. It was late, but Satoru was a known night owl.

“Damn, what have I done to earn this type of reputation 😭” Satoru complained, reacting to both your and Suguru’s message. You could hear his voice as if he was there in the same room as you.

“Of course you are invited, silly. I wouldn’t send this here if you weren’t.”

So now you were there, living an almost ridiculously domestic life with the couple that you had been hanging out with ever since you were sixteen. They had not changed too much. They were still both tall and slender but years had rid them of the rest of the baby fat as they started to resemble more men than boys, vigorous fighting showing in their bodies in an ever gained muscle mass. You supposed you were the same too. Battle hardened. That’s the word you were looking for.

You were just about to sit down but you saw long limbs reaching out to the white chair pulling it backwards. You looked at Satoru with a raised eyebrow. He was acting weird.

“What? I’m a host. I’m being hospitable,” he said, voice melodic as he pressed his hand on your shoulder to pet your arm reassuringly a few times. Suguru laughed quietly as he sat down next to Satoru.

You ate and drank, buzzing with energy. It was like no time had passed and you wondered why did you ever stop talking to these two. After a drink or two you were brave enough to ask for some hot gossip. Like every high school friend, you went through old drama, like how ugly Nanami’s haircut used to be.

“Has Nanami found love yet?” You had asked. He seemed like the type to find a decent relationship first out of all of you, but to everyone’s surprise it was these two men.

“Do you still have a crush on him? I heard that he’s quite a looker nowadays” Suguru bounced a question back at you with a smile tugging on his lips. It was that one expression that looked a tad too kind.

“No, I don’t. I was just curious,” you tried to move on from the subject. You did not really discuss your relationship history with these two, at least not anymore.

“Why?” Suguru asked, leaning on the hand he had placed on the table. The atmosphere felt off, it was as if he was challenging you. You looked at Satoru who seemed to be equally as interested in your answer.

You scratched your neck awkwardly.

“I- I think he’s too soft,” you said blushing at the implication of your words. You had turned your gaze to your almost empty bowl, your mind going to improper places. As you were buried in your embarrassment, Satoru and Suguru shared a silent look with each other.

At some point during the evening you had moved to the white haired man’s bedroom. He wanted to show you the view from the window since he lived on the 30th floor. It was magnificent. The busy streets were bustling even during the night and you stared at the small lights that blinked in different colors. Your eyes followed the cars that swerved left and right as some people were gathered up in front of bars for a smoke break. You barely could make them out from the height you were in.

Satoru’s bedroom was basically the size of someone’s apartment. The bed was huge and sleek, unlike the common area. This room was a lot moodier and darker and it actually showed that he lived here, small bits and bobs decorating shelves and few paintings were hung up on the wall that you reckoned were Suguru’s taste.

Your drinks had changed from light cocktails to expensive red wine that you were almost scared to consume, but when Satoru saw hesitation in you he made a point to assure you that it’s all on him and after that almost instantaneously Suguru asked you something, leaving you no room to overthink.

The uneasiness still followed you. It was a gut feeling that you were really bad at listening to. You did not believe you were in danger – at least you’d like to think that as a jujutsu sorcerer you’d be trained to recognize threats by now. Luckily the red wine relaxed you, lulling you to the feeling of safety.

The volume of music was loud as the three of you listened to some throwback songs that still made you shamelessly want to dance. You were celebrating embarrassingly in Satoru’s room laughing, swaying your bodies along with the beat. It was as if you were in a club, except this was way more intimate. The world spinned around you, the warm lights mixed with the glimpses of the night sky and the longer outlines of your friends. You felt light, time slowing down and going overspeed at the same time as if you were alone on the highway. Your friends’ smiles stretched on their faces, eyes twinkling manically as both of the men appeared to you in double. Eventually when you tired each other out the whole group collapsed on the bed still humming happily. Satoru’s bed was plush and big enough to have room for the three of you.

You noted the way the silk felt like a warm hug underneath you, the ceiling moving like a slithering snake’s skin on savannah.

Satoru was lying on his back on the left side of you, his white hair now more tousled than before whereas Suguru was on the right leaving you in the middle of the two men.

“I think we should play a question game,” Satoru’s voice was bordering on a whisper. The music had stopped.

You stayed silent. “Satoru, I’m not feeling too good,” you managed to say. The bed was a ship and you were a passenger of the sea.

“I didn’t know you’re that lightweight,” Satoru’s hand reached out to your head to pet you, the gesture meant to lower your guards, but in your ever increasing discomfort, his touch only managed to make your skin tingle with aversion.

“Just humor us for a bit, it could be like the good old days, right?” Suguru argued, flashing a dead smile at you.

“Okay, whatever. Ask me something,” you rolled your eyes, too tired to fight them in your weird mental and physical stage.

“Hmm,” Satoru turned to his side to face you, his blue gaze piercing yours as you were still laying on your back. You had no idea when he had removed his sunglasses. You heard Suguru moving next to you as well. “What do you mean by Nanami being too soft?” The way Satoru laid down the question was impish.

The tone of the conversation had taken a full one-eighty and you opened your mouth to answer with only lies on the tip of your tongue, but then you decided against that. Those two had a very good bullshit radar.

“Do you want to hear what I think?” Satoru grinned playfully as he licked his plump lips once.

“I think Nanami would bore you out of your mind, missionary on Mondays without the lights on? Ugh, I wouldn’t want that for my worst enemy,” he said, laughter hollow full of malice. You couldn’t believe your own ears.

“I think you want it rough and behind that tough girl act, there’s an insatiable woman with some wild fantasies,” he blabbered his obscene thoughts. “Tell me, have you ever had sex with two men?” Gojo’s voice was loud and it was as if he was talking to you from a speaker that had been locked in another room. He was too close, too far away and simultaneously too here.

“What the-” you got cut off.

“Don’t curse. It’s unseemly from a woman,” Geto said calmly.

“Answer me,” Gojo demanded. During high school you would have described Gojo’s eyes as a beautiful spring day. You would have said that he reminded you of blue skies with perfectly white fluffy clouds, but now his eyes had turned to something much paler and darker. They reminded you of deep untouched snow drifts turned to blue in the moonlight as they sparkled ominously, waiting for the first little animal that dared to break the pristine condition.

“What did you do to me?” Your voice was not your own, it was weak, the accusation of your words turning dull as the red wine you had drank earlier sanded the edges away.

“Nothing permanent,” Geto said.

His admittance striked terror in you. Realization hit you, you were not safe here and you felt the familiar warmth flowing in you like a second nature. You manipulated the cursed energy, channeled it and let it flow steadily in your body guiding the power to your hands, but something in it felt unstable, it felt like a chord that was almost broken just barely connecting.

“Did you know that some drugs really affect the ability to use cursed energy? Not that it would matter in your case,” Geto explained, his voice overflowing around you, sticking to your skin like honey.

“Fuck you!” You yelled letting out a gust of wind to both sides, throwing the two men away from you. They landed nimbly to the floor, like cats, as you yourself hopped up from the bed, your vision blurred, walls moving back and forth, small figurines on the shelves changing color others dancing in front of your eye lids. Your head ached, pain banging against your skull, gnawing at the nerve endings that sent panic infused messages across your body, screaming: Stop moving!

“Oh so you want to spar? Go on then, show me what you have,” Geto purred.

It was a pathetic attempt in your current state. Your feet took you towards the door that Geto had come to protect. Hands and feet clashed together in close combat as you drew your cursed energy that was flickering unevenly in your body. Every time you got too close to escaping either Geto or Gojo kicked you further away.

The white haired bastard wasn’t even using his infinity which only added salt to your wounds. He deliberately chose to prance around you, letting you at times touch him a wild smile on his face. There was no cursed energy, no flashy techniques, just you and two overpowered men.

“Do you remember what they said in school when facing someone stronger than you?” Gojo asked, dodging your fist.

“Don’t be a hero,” Geto grabbed your arm and twisted it painfully behind you. “Contact someone better equipped to handle it,” he said and shoved you forwards with a force so great that you staggered towards Gojo’s table with the MacBook wobbling with force earning a “Hey, that’s my computer!” protest from the man himself.

The lights went out with a sound of shattering glass, leaving the three of you enveloped in the darkness, only city lights illuminating the room. Disorientated by the sudden change in environment you froze, breathing heavily as the two men practically surrounded you. Gojo appeared in front of you not a hair out of place.

“And with that, you’re dead. You really should not get distracted during training,” the white haired man shared his advice talking to you with the same tone he used on his pupils. “Truce?” He offered his hand.

You looked up. There was something sinister about the way they hovered over you. Geto’s beautiful prince-like features had turned harsh and angular, the shadows sharpening his face even more. You swallowed a bunch of bile, the effects of forcing yourself to move taking place.

“The power disparity is too big,” Geto said. He almost pitied you. You were a smart girl, you’d figure the best move soon.

You grabbed the hand bitterly. Gojo helped you up and Geto wrapped his arm around your waist when you were about to fall again.

“Careful,” he mumbled, his hand trailing underneath your shirt. His touch felt cold against your burning skin that was damp from sweat. “We wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself,” he taunted.

“Take her shirt off. I’ve waited long enough,” Gojo said impatiently, tapping his foot on the floor.

“Always so demanding,” Geto chuckled as he worked your shirt up, unclasping your bra unceremoniously, your breasts now free for the two men to ogle.

“Perfect tits,” Gojo said as he pawed at you and played with your nipples. You were completely overwhelmed and out of energy. Luckily, you did not have to stand on your own as Geto helped you to stay up his hands unzipping your jeans.

“Why me?” You squeaked your head drooping in defeat as you looked at Geto’s hand that vanished underneath your panties, your trousers still on you. Your question went unanswered.

“Satoru I think you might have been right about your theory,” You felt Geto’s smile on your neck as he referenced the earlier conversation regarding Nanami.

“Really? Is she wet?” Gojo asked curiously.

“Soaking,” Geto said as he explored your soft folds with ease. “Did fighting us make you feel better about what’s going to happen? At least you can tell your friends that you did not break easy,” Geto mumbled onto your skin pressing kisses to your neck, his hand still working on you going up and down tantalizing on your slit.

Gojo dropped to his knees pulling down the rest of your clothes. A whimper left your mouth as you shook your head powerlessly.

“Lift her leg up,” Gojo instructed. Geto slid his hand behind your right knee, lifting it up till you were wobbling on one foot as you leaned on him for support. The white haired man had his lips slightly apart as he looked in awe at the sight unfolding in front of him. His mouth was watering as Geto maneuvered his hand back to your folds, spreading them in front of Gojo’s face so that his boyfriend could take a long hard look at everything you were offering.

You saw the gears turning in Gojo’s head as his expression turned to a mischievous one. “I want her to sit on my face,” he licked his lips and made his way to the bed, throwing the shirt on the floor.

“Can you move?” Geto asked as he let go of your leg, holding onto your trembling body. He tipped your head towards him, his face looking almost worried. It reminded you of the old times, but this was not the old Suguru. This was someone new. Twisted.

He helped you to the bed, where Gojo had been waiting, completely naked, his chest heaving in anticipation. Your eyes scanned him from head to toe, stopping at his cock that had already started to curve upwards. It already looked big, bigger than anything you had ever taken.

“Like what you see baby? Cause me too,” Gojo said jokingly. “Well, come here then or do you want to fuck us dry? Because I’m fine with that,” he hurried you, the threat looming over you.

You climbed on top of him, saddling his face. Gojo’s hands immediately grabbed at your ass, pulling you towards his mouth. You could imagine the pink tip of his tongue trying out where you were the most sensitive. He was too impatient to tease you, quickly finding the bundle of nerves that was begging for his attention. He lapped at it as obscenely wet noises filled the room. Gojo sucked on your clit and you moaned loudly, throwing your head back, a sheen layer of sweat on you.

You felt him hum into your cunt as you felt the weight shift behind you on the mattress, Geto’s hand moving on Satoru’s length, pumping it roughly.

“You see, Satoru here is a bit of a munch. He is loud during the day, but put a cock in his mouth and it works wonders at silencing him. Apparently he likes the taste of pussy too,” Geto said with a devious smile on his lips. Gojo groaned animalistically into your wet heat as the black haired man felt his own hardness straining against his boxers. It took everything in his power to not to take off his clothes and fuck you till you were cock drunk and babbling incoherently, but he had too much fun playing with you.

“How does it feel like having the strongest sorcerer lapping you up like a regular man?” Geto’s voice was just a hush in your ear. “Men and women around the globe are going to be jealous when they hear that Gojo Satoru wanted to stick his dick in you,” Geto taunted you both as his hand focused on rotating around Satoru’s tip, spreading out the drops of precome around his cock. Satoru bucked his hips up involuntarily.

You came. Hard. You thrashed around Gojo’s head as the man between your legs held onto you stubbornly, licking and sucking through your orgasm. You felt something warm trickling straight to his face as the pressure in the lower half of your body exploded. Your voice was high pitched and desperate as you rode his face till you were sore, your already weak legs giving out.

Gojo pushed you off of him, gasping for air, pupils blown out in arousal. His face glistened in your juices and his saliva.

“You know what, for a man who’s shaming me for being talkative, you sure speak a lot yourself Suguru,” he pointed out. Suguru laughed, honest to god laughed, his eyes squinting contently as Satoru pulled him into a kiss.

There was something incredibly erotic watching the two men, knowing that Geto would taste the remnants of you as their lips smacked together messily. Their bodies tangled together, black hair flowing around white as Gojo buried his hand in Geto’s luscious strands. Gojo pulled his boyfriend’s face up gently exposing the bobbing Adam's apple that he kissed reverently. It was now Geto’s turn to saddle Gojo.

“I think you need to take your clothes off. Give her a little show,” Satoru said, biting into the skin on Suguru’s clavicle as his hands fumbled with the black haired man’s belt that opened with a clink.

Geto pulled his black t-shirt over his head, his taut muscles flexing. It felt like forever when Gojo caressed the man on top of him, his face in a constant grin. He took down the boxers inch by inch until Geto’s cock sprang out after being suppressed inside his clothes for too long.

“Get on fours,” Gojo ordered as you clumsily did what he told you to. He moved behind you whereas Geto took place in front of you.

“Arch your back.”

You stretched yourself, lowering your torso and propping your butt up almost as if you were offering yourself on a silver platter. Gojo’s hand came down to your ass with force making your body jerk when he dug his nails on the soft skin.

“Wow, you must fuck a lot of dudes judging by how low you can go. If I knew you were a whore, I would have bent you over earlier,” he laughed, his finger prodding on your entrance.

Geto pulled you from your hair. It wasn’t the nice kind of pain that came when one would grab them near the scalp; instead it stung like hell, when Geto yanked your head up, putting you on the perfect level of his cock.

Gojo inserted one finger simultaneously inside you and almost immediately added another. You whined as his fingers scissored you open, your lips almost touching the head of Geto.

“You know, I get to lie with this amazing man every day. Show him the same respect as I do,” Gojo said. Had you not been caught up in their fucked up power play, their love for each other would have truly warmed your heart.

Geto’s thumb stroked your cheek as if to apologize for what was about to happen. He let his hand trail down to your bottom lip, swiping across it gently.

“Open.”

Satoru pushed his hand almost knuckles deep into you, a guttural moan making its escape from your lips as he used his hand to finger fuck you. Geto used your opening mouth to his advantage to stuff his cock in you. He was huge, your jaw already hurting. His tangy taste spreaded in your mouth as he softly rocked back and forth, not wanting to choke you just yet.

You hollowed out your cheeks and focused on the tip of his cock as you used one of your hands to touch what you could not fit. Geto’s eyes were half lidded as he guided your head to a rhythm that he liked as you squirmed underneath Gojo’s touch.

Gojo removed his hand from you leaving you empty, you almost missed the sensation of him, but soon felt the man behind you poking your folds with something much bigger than his fingers. You mewled in panic when he entered you, your eyes widening in shock. God he was huge.

“Focus. Eyes up here,” Geto said, patting your cheek with an open palm. The way you looked up at him made Suguru feel close to high, your pupils widened to the size of a plate, eyes glistening in tears that you held back, still holding onto a sliver of pride. Brave girl, he thought to himself.

Gojo fucked you sloppily, squelching, slapping and your gurgling filling the room as both the men used your body to chase their own highs. You felt like you were drowning and when one withdrew the other one rammed into you without a second thought. It was hard to keep your attention on Geto when his boyfriend did everything in his power to make your task at hand challenging, when his long cock grazed upon that one spot inside you from time to time.

“I’m going to finish in your mouth,” Geto was out of breath, his grip tightened around your skull. Gojo groaned behind you with his fingers digging into your hips. You were sure that you’d have handprints tattooed on your skin by the end of this night.

Geto’s movement got erratic, his cock hitting the back of your throat making you gag around him painfully. The black haired man relished in the wet warmth your mouth provided him. He was panting as pleasure coursed through him, your despaired moans only driving him further. Hot stripes of his come coated your mouth. You wanted to spit it out, or swallow it, anything to get rid of it as your face soured in disgust.

“Keep it in your mouth,” he advised as he pulled out of you. You almost wanted to spit it on his face as an act of defiance. Geto smiled at the confrontational look on your face as if he knew what you were thinking. “Good girl,” he purred when you had decided not to go against him.

Gojo flipped you quickly around to lie on your back, your legs floating in the air awkwardly as he entered back into you swiftly. He pulled you in a feverish kiss, his soft lips slightly swollen. His tongue prodded inside your mouth, Suguru’s come spreading into his mouth as you explored each other. It felt disgusting, playing with someone’s fluids like this, but somehow it made your cunt clench around your white haired high school friend.

There was something deeply primal in the way Gojo drove into you, his head almost resting on yours as he fucked you deep and hard. You were vaguely aware of Geto’s eyes following the act in front of him, admiring the way Satoru’s muscles moved with every move, drinking up the disheveled look on you.

Satoru’s hips came to halt as he plastered his seed on your walls, making sure that he wasn’t too deep, keeping his thrusts shallow enough so he could see him leaking out of your used cunt.

“Fuck,” he breathed out, spent, the after glow warming him. “You didn’t come right?” He asked you, feeling slightly tired.

“No, but it doesn’t matter,” you rasped out your throat feeling hoarse after the abuse it had taken. Frankly you wanted to sleep as well.

“Suguru, can you help her out? I want to watch,” Gojo said as he fluffed the pillow underneath him to get into a comfortable position as if he was about to open the television and watch his favorite show.

“If you hold onto her other leg,” he said as he propped your left leg around his waist and Gojo took hold of your right one. You were helpless and unable to protect yourself when you tried to squirm away from the two devious men.

Geto’s nimble fingers gathered up Satoru’s come that was trickling down between your cheeks. He pushed it back inside you, moving his fingers slowly without a hurry in the world. It reminded you of the calm before a storm.

“You’re going to give us one more right?” Geto’s voice was reassured when he added another finger into you, thumb trailing to your sensitive clit. He knew just what to do, to get you fast back to the edge that you were teetering on earlier, already feeling overstimulated from the rough treatment you had gotten. His fingers made a come-hither movement hitting precisely your g-spot.

Gojo held onto you whispering sweet nothings to your ear, his thumb caressing your thigh. He was gentle, his touch light, eyes half lidded as he enjoyed the small whimpers coming from your mouth. He spoke to you, told you how much he had wanted you from the beginning. He spoke of how he saw that you wanted him – them. Gojo let you know how well you were doing, taking what they dished out to you, how you were brave and oh so good. He attempted to bury you in his twisted love, six feet underground, anxiety and arousal covering Geto’s fingers.

It was too overwhelming. Gojo next to you, Geto between your legs, your world still spinning around you, overstimulating touch and a coil about to snap. You wailed hollowly as you came apart on Suguru’s fingers one last time.

***

It was deep in the night, around two AM to be precise. You had shot your eyes open as the wave of nausea hit you. The two men had fallen asleep cuddling each other, limbs tangled on each other. You got up as quickly as you could, your head ache punishing you from your choices, stomach churning dangerously.

With a pitter patter from your naked feet, you carried yourself to the extravagant bathroom, barely having time to put the lights on as your nausea took over.

You doubled over the toilet seat, emptying your stomach of your earlier dinner and whatever else your friends had slipped in your drink. You held onto your hair desperately trying not to make a mess. A warm hand landed on your fist bunching up the rest of your hair gently.

“It’s okay. I’m here,” Suguru said affectionately, stroking your head. “Let it all out. You’re going to feel better soon.”

The acidic taste filled your mouth once again as if it was reacting to Suguru’s company. Your body forced you to throw up stomach fluids after having nothing else in it.

The way he took care of you brought up memories of the times you had taken one too many drinks, after your partner of that time had broken up with you. You remembered the way he had held you crying, snot and tears covering his shirt as you broke down.

The sound of water pouring into a glass echoed on the walls and you heard the rattle of an ice drawer disturbing the silence.

“You should drink this,” Satoru showed up leaning on the door frame, offering the glass to you. You hesitated.

“It’s just water.” He said and took a sip as if it would prove you anything. “See?”

You grabbed it from his hand, when you decided that you didn’t care anymore, downing the entire glass in almost one swing. The cold scraped your tender throat punishingly. You should have drank more slowly.

Waking up after the night had turned to day, the windows no longer covered by the blinds. You did not remember a lot of the act, except vomiting, but that came afterwards. The city was already moving fast, a new day offering new opportunities and new exciting journeys.

You felt physically a lot better, still weird, but you no longer felt like collapsing to the ground nor did you see things twice. It was almost like you had a hangover. You looked around Gojo’s room rolling on the bed that was empty feeling relieved of having space.

There were still signs of yesterday's fighting, but random shards had been taken care of and the lightbulb changed into a working one. You had your own pajamas on you, not having the slightest idea when and how you got into your clothes. Feeling nervous you got out of the bedroom walking to the toilet to empty your bladder. As you wiped, you felt around your crotch, searching for the remainder of different body fluids. You had cleaned yourself up. Or someone had.

You washed your hands, scrubbing them together with fervor, pumping out a heap of soap on your palm.

You repeated it once.

Twice.

Until your skin was scrubbed dry.

You looked at yourself in the mirror just to see familiar features, but not anyone you could recognize. You opened the overnight bag that you had left on the side of the sink to brush your teeth and spit out the foaming toothpaste. A smell of dough frying on the pan wafted to your nose as you heard commotion from the kitchen.

You took steps to the living room to find Suguru in front of the stove flipping pancakes as Satoru was hunched over a pile of strawberries nibbling on them happily. Upbeat rock played in the background as the two men joked around and chatted. You stared at them, something seething in you.

“Good morning! We’re making brunch,” Suguru exclaimed as he flipped a pancake over “Do you want coffee or tea?”

Nails bit into your skin as you clenched your fists together hard, your knuckles turning to white as anger turned on like a switch. You wanted to rage, go absolutely berserker, throw things at them, scream how dare you over and over. Some part of you also wanted to forget the night, pretend that it’s a nightmare, sit down with them to eat some fucking brunch.

“What if I tell someone,” it wasn’t really a question that you wanted them to answer.

“And what would you achieve with that?” Gojo retorted, popping a ridiculously big strawberry in his mouth, leaving the green stem outside as he bit down, the trash floating to the table.

Suguru placed the now ready pancake onto the white plate. He grabbed the black ladle to pour more mixture on the warm pan, before he started speaking calm but collected. It was this matter of fact tone that he used as if he was disappointed in your stupidity since he was always speaking the truth. The audacity of men or something like that.

“You know first hand how some clans look down on women, not believing that women should be sorcerers in the first place. So how do you think these powerful people are going to react to you saying that two of the strongest sorcerers assaulted you?” He mused, the conversation reminding you of ethics class where people discussed your human rights as a starter dish, completely disregarding that they were talking about real lives.

You knew how those types of people would react. They would see it only as normal, a woman’s place as a breeding machine, your sorcerer blood and womb more precious than your soul. They would argue that you were lucky or maybe that you had asked for it. Besides, it wasn’t exactly atypical of people in your line of work going insane, the trail of dead comrades keeping one up for countless nights. And who better to take anger out on than the people who are perceived as less.

“Even if they did believe you, it wouldn’t change our life at all. They need our skills and well, his money,” Suguru continued as Satoru grabbed three coffee cups and placed them on the kitchen island. As if, you were staying. “It would change yours though.”

That’s when realization hit you. They were the type of evil that were completely aware of their sins. They knew exactly what was right and wrong, but they simply did not care, the world as their oyster.

“You’re insane,” a tear rolled down your eye, your body trembling like a leaf.

“Not denying that one,” Satoru quipped, not taking anything serious like usual.

“If you want to, you can leave. You are free to run your mouth however you want, block our numbers, whatever makes you sleep better. Or you can eat some pancakes as friends and have powerful allies for the rest of your life,” Geto said. “I’ll ask again, coffee or tea?”

You bit your lip as the conflicted emotions flashed through your face. You despised that you viewed them still as your friends as much as your enemies. It was weird to love someone who had hurt you in one of the most violating ways possible.

“Coffee,” you mumbled as you sat down on the bar stool hanging your hands on your sides as Suguru poured the dark liquid on the blue cup.

“We got you Plan B too,” Satoru said, throwing the cardboard box into your hands. “You should take it. I’m not ready to be a father,” he added.

You fumbled the package open, popping out the small pill on your hand. You didn’t know how they knew that you weren’t on birth control nor did you really care. You placed the tablet on your tongue taking generous gulps of water as the couple continued on cooking.

Music played as the sun shone brighter, lighting up the whole kitchen, furniture basking up in the natural glow. You ate in peace, mainly Satoru and Suguru talking together but every once in a while you added something in the conversation. You fell quickly back to the old habits, maybe at times chuckling at their stupid jokes.

You pushed away the night. You tucked it in a corner of your mind that you did not dare to look at for many weeks to come. You were just three old high school buddies catching up, nothing more. The flashbacks you saw were not yours and the long weekend continued on as a happy sleep over.

#tw: noncon #dark fic #yandere jjk #yandere geto suguru #yandere gojo satoru #gojo satoru x geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #yandere jujutsu kaisen

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