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midgardianweasley · 3 years ago

Note

Oh please may I request a Natasha X fem reader where Natasha comes down with the flu & reader takes care of her. At first Natasha is in denial & stubborn about being sick but Reader is having none of it, especially for the woman she has feelings for. So reader carries Natasha to her room. For a week reader does her best to make the red head as comfy as she can. Then one night when Natasha is high on medication, confesses her feelings for reader. Just pure fluff! I will forever be grateful! ❤️❤️

of course! i hope you like it <3

Take care of you

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary/request: Natasha comes down with the flu & reader takes care of her. At first Natasha is in denial & stubborn about being sick but Reader is having none of it, especially for the woman she has feelings for. So the reader carries Natasha to her room. For a week the reader does her best to make the red head as comfy as she can. Then one night when Natasha is high on medication, confesses her feelings for the reader.

Warnings: none

Word Count: 3.8k

Message/ask if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

Requests are open

It was another day in the compound, the early sunrise started to make its way into your window, dimly lighting the room and beginning to make you stir awake.

A quiet groan escaped your lips, arms and legs automatically stretching before relaxing immediately afterwards. You’d just come back from a mission a couple of days ago, it had been exhausting and cold. So, so, cold. So it was a relief to get into pyjamas and your blanketed bed with the heating up so the room was warm, but not a furnace.

Standing up, your toes curled into the fluffy rug as you picked up a grey jumper that had been discarded beside the bed, throwing it over your figure, falling just below your thighs which were covered with loose sweatpants.

You made your way out of the bedroom and towards the communal kitchen belonging to everyone that belonged on your floor, Tony had made an all girls floor for us, apparently we need the space to deal with our 'girly stuff', that man has a way with words. Tony stayed with Pepper on their own floor and the male Avengers had been split up in small groups across other floors.

Expecting the kitchen to have a few people inside either eating or just chatting, you were surprised to see that it was empty for as far as you could see. However, it was obvious that people had been in beforehand, with the odd plate and mug lying around next to the sink.

‘Must be in training’ you thought.

Before you could walk to the kitchen island and begin to make something to eat, you heard a sneeze coming from the doorway a few steps behind you. With a small jump, you turned to see an assassin whose nose was currently the same colour as her hair.

“Sorry for scaring you.” She snuffled. Obviously the cold hit some people a little harder than others.

“It’s alright, you okay though? You sound a bit snuffly.”

“Yeah, I'm fine. Just allergies.” Pulling some Frosties from the cupboard below her, exposing her side a little as her top fell forward.

You knew she was lying, she’d told you ages ago that she didn’t have any kind of hayfever or anything when you walked around the compound with antihistamines constantly in your back pocket during the spring time last year and she was making jokes about how screwed you would be if the Avengers had to fight against pollen. You weren’t impressed.

You decided to leave it be for now, let her keep up her little facade, even though you knew, and she did too, that you could read her like a book and you knew she was sick.

“Right. Allergies.” You nodded directly to your friend and teammate, walking towards her to make yourself some cereal too, smirking to yourself slightly whenever you heard her try not to audibly sniffle.

The thing about Natasha that you'd always found so bittersweet, was her stubbornness. She always stuck to her guns, always made a deal to let it be known she was correct, however it was never in a malicious way, or to make anyone feel bad, she just liked to make her point. While you admired her confidence and certainty in her words, it was also incredibly frustrating when she was determined she didn't need any help.

Back in the days when she was hesitant to trust all those around her, she wouldn't let anyone help her heal her wounds from missions she'd been hurt on. Always brushing it off with an 'I'm fine' or 'I can do it myself'. She's grown a lot since then, she even occasionally let's you braid her hair when it's fallen out or she just needs to relax a little and while you know it's mainly for practicality, you still pride yourself on the fact that she chooses you to do that for her. To help her.

"Achoo!"

You just wish she'd have that same trust in you to nurse her a little.

"Doing okay over there?" You directed to the redhead who now sat curled up into the corner of the sofa by the windows, slowly munching on her cereal and taking short, mouthy breaths

"I'm doing" sniffle "great" She rubbed her nose with the back of her hand, it slowly appearing more red and irritated by the action.

You internally sigh, wondering how long it'll really take for her to fess up to you that she was coming down with something. Continuing to make your cereal and tidy up afterwards, you pick up the bowl and make your way over to Natasha.

"Do you mind if I sit with you?"

"Sure, but not too close"

"Why not?"

"Because i.."

"Because you're…?"

"Sneezing all over the place! I don't want to sneeze on you. You know how it is with your hayfever"

In her years of being a highly trained assassin, a black widow, you think that that has to have been the worst lie she's tried to pull off.

"I do, but I don't think you would"

"Huh?"

"You don't have hayfever, Nat. You're sick."

"I'm no-" she was interrupted with another sneeze, grabbing a tissue from the box sitting on the table beside her.

“Bless you.”

“thank you” she mumbled, soon beginning to realize that with every minute, her story begins to crumble and her ill health becomes more obvious.

“come on, i’m taking you to bed”

“you’re not even gonna ask me on a date first? classy.” she joked, although congested, her wit remained just as quick and just as sassy.

It was moments like these, where she made those flirty comebacks or comments that made you wonder if the feelings you’ve harbored over the past months are reciprocated. you’d always put it to the back of your mind when you’d occasionally see her and Bruce cosying up, or what appeared to be a loving gaze shared between her and Steve. You decided to put your feelings to one side, not willing to not only ruin something for Nat, but end up being hurt in the long run. It was best to stay friends.

If only you knew.

A playful glare was sent her way upon hearing her words, trying to silently communicate that try as she may, she isn’t winning this one. It felt like you were staring at each other for hours, realistically it was only a matter of seconds, minutes at a push, before she threw her head back in defeat and audibly groaned at the fact she’d lost.

“Okay. okay, fine, I surrender”

You rolled your eyes at the dramatics, all of this for some bed rest, meds and soup. Standing up from your spot, you lean down and swiftly lift the redhead up bridal style in your arms, cereal being long forgotten. One of the perks of attending Steve’s training sessions, you build up a hell of a lot of strength because that man does not go easy on you.

It was a short walk to Nat’s bedroom, her room only being at the end of the hall down from the kitchen. She was practically half asleep in your arms, her head had found its way burrowed into the crook of your neck, minutes away from falling asleep.

“Hey FRIDAY, can you unlock Natasha’s room please? Hands are kinda full.”

You heard a small click noise before the door opened slightly allowing you to gently kick it open fully so you could walk in.

“Miss Romanoff’s door is unlocked, Miss Y/L/N.”

“Thanks F.R.I.D.A.Y.”

Walking in, you already had an idea of what her room would look like, having been in once or twice before. Natasha liked to keep her things tidy and in order, clothes laid away, bed made, floor clear. So to see her bed covers ruffled into a ball, tissues in the bin and scattered around and laundry in a bundle in the corner, it took you by surprise. She must really be unwell.

You took her over to the bed, laying her down gently before pressing the back of your hand to her forehead, she felt like an oven to the touch.

‘Okay. definitely a fever.’

She was in between being asleep and being awake, so you decided to leave her covers off and tidy up some of the mess in her bedroom. You discarded the tissues, hung up some clean clothes that were yet to be put away and replaced the space in the basket with her dirty laundry. Turning back to see if the assassin had fallen asleep or not, you really took in her appearance.

Her clothes were just slightly on the big side, but you could still see a faint outline of her figure, hair was tied back into a loose ponytail, letting the odd few strands escape and frame her face. Her eyes were practically fully shut, but you could still see the tint of green in them, slightly covered by her long, dark eyelashes. ‘It’s unbelievable’, you thought, ‘Her body is literally shutting down, and she still looks angelic.’

You’d be riddled with envy if you weren’t so entranced by her. Times like this, you wonder how you manage to keep your feelings to yourself.

“What” cough “what are you doing?” A raspy voice asked.

“Oh, I was just tidying up your room a bit, I know you like it to be tidy and-”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know. I wanted to.” You ensured.

“Thank you.” It wasn’t obvious, you had to squint to see it, but she attempted a half smile.

“I’m just going to put this stuff in the wash, do you need anything brought back for you?”

“I’m just too warm.”

Looking around the room, you looked for ways to cool her down. There was the obvious option of windows, but they were full length except a tiny rectangle at the top which wouldn’t be enough air. You racked your brain for another minute before an idea came to mind.

“Wait here, I’ll be back in a second.”

“I’ll time you.”

If you weren’t in a rush to get back as soon as possible, you would’ve made a comeback to her comment. You took the washing to the laundry room, quickly throwing it all into the machine and putting on a boil wash before dashing to your own bedroom. Eyes scanning all over the room, it didn’t take long before they landed on the desk fan sitting on top of your wardrobe. Reaching up and grabbing it, thankfully it was a small wardrobe otherwise it would’ve been an incredibly embarrassing fall, you made your way back to Nat’s room.

Entering her room, you could feel it getting warmer as time went by. The woman hadn’t moved from where you left her, still sprawled out among the sheets. You set the fan down on her bedside table, plugged it in and switched the ‘on’ button. Over the quiet whirring, you heard a faint gasp of relief leave Nat’s lips, her body visibly relaxing at the cool breeze.

“That feel better?”

“Mhmm” She murmured, shifting in her bed to get as close to the fan as possible.

“How’s your hayfever now?”

“Hmm”

You chuckled at her sudden calmness that overtook her, glad to have been able to help her out a little.

It wasn’t long before she fell asleep, the last of her energy disappeared within seconds and soft snores emitted from her. Pushing her hair back off of her forehead gently, you whispered a quiet ‘sleep well, love.’ before walking out to do some other things around the compound, reminding yourself to come back in an hour or so to check in.

You didn’t notice the affectionate smile that had made its way onto Nat’s face at your gesture.

__________________________

“Miss Y/L/N.” Friday suddenly announced, making you drop the wooden spoon you were using to stir the soup you’d made for Nat. You remember her mentioning a dish called ‘borscht’, something she used to have in Russia, it was one of her comfort dishes. It was either this, or pizza. The soup was probably the safer option.

“Miss Y/L/N?”

“Yes, sorry F.R.I.D.A.Y., what’s wrong?”

“Miss Romanoff is awake and asking for you.”

“Oh, thank you! Could you let her know I'll be through in a minute?”

“Of course.”

And with a chime, F.R.I.D.A.Y. went off to pass on the message. You hastily got a bowl out of the cupboard behind you, spooning a generous amount of the soup in and covering the pot up afterwards.

The room had considerably cooled now, the fan had been on full speed since you left, the only difference was the curtains were now shut and the corner lamp was on, dimly illuminating the room.

A small ‘hi’ could be heard, although muffled, still audible. You knelt down beside her bed so you could be at the same eye level and tugged the blanket covering half of her face down.

“Hey sleepy.”

“Did I sleep for long?”

“Only an hour. Don’t worry.”

“An hour?! Ugh. I said to Clint that i’d train with him today. I’ll get dressed.” She attempted to sit up, and while successful, she looked as though she’d just got off the twister ride at the funfair. You shook your head, putting your hands on her arms and lightly pushed her back, raising your eyebrows in response to her playful glare.

“I spoke to Clint, he said he’ll catch you when he feels better. He didn’t feel up to dragging your passed out body off of the mats today.” She rolled her eyes.

“I’d be-” She sniffed, well, tried to, and looked around the room curiously before her eyes landed on the bowl beside her and then darted between it and your face.

“Did you-” She pointed towards the food “make Borscht?”

You looked down sheepishly.

“I tried. I remember you saying you used to eat it and I thought it might help. But if you don’t like it then-”

“I’m sure I will.” She reached over for the bowl, hand clasping the tea towel I slid underneath it so as not to burn her hands.

Settling with her soup, she blew on her spoon, cooling the substance before eating some. You watched anxiously, hoping you hadn’t messed up too bad, you’d only made it once before when she taught you the basics of it, so this was the first time you’d made it alone.

You exhaled a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding when you saw her smile, looking at you adoringly.

“I love it.” She rasped

“You do? Is it okay?”

“More than. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” You smiled, making small talk here and there while she ate.

“Do you want me to set up a movie for you?”

“Sure.”

You walked over to retrieve her laptop, getting ‘Grown Up’s’ up on the screen. She’s recently been into Adam Sandler movies, it was a nice and easy movie to watch, it was really lighthearted. You nudged the laptop over to her, angling it so she could still see it properly when lying down. When you got up to leave, you felt a weak grip on your wrist, encouraging you to turn and meet those shimmering, slightly droopy, green eyes.

“Need anything Nat?”

“Can you stay? Please? I like your company.”

Your stomach suddenly became home to a zoo full of butterflies, as it often did when you spent time with Natasha. You’d both spent time together before obviously, but it was usually due to missions or as a group, only occasionally getting the chance for it to be just the two of you. So to have her openly request your company, it was heartwarming. Unbeknown to you, Natasha had the exact same feeling in her stomach, and it wasn’t because of the Borscht.

You gave her a nod, trying to hide the smile trying to force its way onto your face as you settled yourself down next to her, in the meantime missing the smile she was giving you, the kind where you smile with both your mouth and your eyes with a slight sparkle in them.

You looked up eventually, causing her to snap her head back towards the screen, a smile still clear as day on her face, only getting larger as you maneuvered your arm so it was behind her neck, allowing her to get closer, which she did. So close that you could feel her ragged breathing on your chest.

If you had to use one word to describe how you’re feeling right now?

It’d be warmth. The air may have been cold, the bowl left on the side will inevitably be the same. But all you can feel, is the warmth of the blankets spilling over the bed. The warmth from the laptop. The warmth radiating from the one who you admired so dearly beside you. And most vital of all, the warmth running through your entire body, making your heart feel full. If you had the chance, you’d bottle this feeling and treasure it forever.

__________________________

A week went by, and Natasha was almost fully recovered, just having to take her medicine and rest when she can, but she’s now able to walk around the compound more often. However, although she’s had this freedom returned, she doesn’t appear to long for it as much as she did a week ago.

When she woke up in the morning, she’d roll her eyes when you’d told her she couldn’t go and train, she had to stay in bed. Unimpressed with not being able to go about her day as usual, she’d try and convince you that you were being dramatic.

'I don’t need to stay in bed.'

'You're worrying over nothing!'

'Let me leave my bedroom.'

'I’m perfectly able to go and train.'

She wasn’t, and was soon proven wrong as she collapsed back on the bed with a cracking headache.

But now, after the last 7 days of eating with you, watching movies with you and just generally indulging in conversations until she fell asleep with you, she started to feel like she didn’t want to feel better, she wanted this time with you to last forever. If she didn’t have feelings for you before, she most definitely did now. Or more so that she recognised it more now. She couldn’t pinpoint what it was. Maybe it was the way you took the time to make her favourite foods, or maybe it was the way you always made sure to check in with her and how she was feeling. Although, it also could’ve easily been the way your eyes lit up at the funny scenes in a movie, similar to the way they did whenever you made eye contact with her.

“Nat? Earth to Nat?” Lost in her thoughts, Natasha blinked a couple of times to focus back on the girl in front of her, smiling as always.

“Sorry, daydreaming.” She chuckled, her face feeling warmer as a blush appeared on her cheeks.

“Don’t worry” You laughed. “I was just letting you know that I'm gonna go and get your Nyquil, it should help with the headache and sore throat.”

“Ah, so I'm getting the good stuff now?” She winked

“I think you deserve it, plus, you’ve blown through the last of the ibuprofen.” You gave her a playful glare, both of you knowing that you’d have to go and buy some more, but you didn’t mind, you’d have gone to all 50 states for it if you had to.

“What can I say? I’m sick” Pulling the puppy eyes, not being able to last a minute without bursting into a grin, which you responded with a dramatic faint for an exit out of the room, leaving to go and get the Nyquil.

Getting her to take it was easy enough, dealing with a sleepy Nat, not so easy.

“Y/NNNN”

“Yes?”

“I don’t like this movie.” She grumbled, pushing her face further into the pillow as her sign of protest.

“What’s wrong with this one?”

“It’s stupid.”

“You love this movie!”

“No.”

“Right, what would you like instead?” You asked, already clicking out of the movie to go and pick another one for the fourth time.

“I don’t wanna watch anything anymore.”

“Okay. I’ll turn it off then. Still want me to stay?”

“Please”

“Alright.”

You shut down the laptop, putting it to the side and lay down next to the redhead who was trying to fight sleep. You reached forward to put some hair that was in her face, behind her ear, trying to ensure she was comfortable. It must’ve worked because before you could pull your hand away, her face nuzzled into your palm, eyebrows easing from their furrow.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” She whispered so quietly that if there was any other noise in the room, there’s no chance you would’ve heard it.

“It’s my pleasure Nat.”

She opened her eyes fully now, instantly meeting yours, they were cloudy with sleep. There was a comforting silence surrounding the both of you, neither one of you daring to break eye contact, I hadn’t taken any medicine yet I was still falling asleep with how peaceful it was. I woke up more when she started to murmur again, this time, it was incoherent.

“What was that?”

“I like you.”

“I like you too, Nat.” You smiled warmly

“Noo, as in, I like you.”

You could’ve sworn you felt your heart stop. Is she actually- Is this- what?

“You’re just tired, love.” She shook her head

“m not that” Yawn “tired.”

“Tell you what, get some sleep and then tell me in the morning when the meds have worn off, okay?”

“m’kay. I will y’know”

“I believe you” You were hesitant with her words, unsure about whether this was a moment she’d forget tomorrow and it’s not her true feelings, or if it was true and the circumstances had just convinced you otherwise.

But, true to her word, the next morning when you woke up, still groggy from the sleep, she was laying there almost wide awake with a toothy grin.

“morn-“ And before you could finish your word, her lips were on yours. They felt like the perfect fit, moving against yours at a gentle pace, though still not enough to let you process what was actually going on.

“Morning” She pulled away.

“That enough confirmation for you?”

more than enough.

taglist: @the-dumbass-that-throws-knives

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hangovercurse · 4 years ago

Text

I’d Drop it All for You

Pictures of you and Pete are spread all over the internet, causing a whirlwind of hate to enter your social media.

Request: “Pete content please! anything !!! smut fluff whatever”

Pete x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, depictions of depression and anxiety

A/N: *Insert normal spiel about respecting A.G. and only using her for plot purposes. No harm intended.* Also I wrote most of this after a meeting with my therapist so... enjoy :) (He’s so cute in this gif I wanna kiss his face)

Word Count: 1820

You weren’t one of those people who loved being the center of attention. You knew that being in the spotlight also meant constantly living under a microscope, and you decided a long time ago that that was not for you.

But you were lucky enough to work as an assistant art director at just 24. You were hoping that The King of Staten Island, your newest project, would help get your name out into the professional world. But that wasn’t the only thing to come out of the film.

It happened unexpectedly, you showed up on set the first day, ready to do whatever the art director required of you. You couldn’t help but be slightly distracted by the lead actor and writer, Pete Davidson. He was so kind and funny, and he wasn’t uptight like everyone else.

After a few hours of filming, he came up to you, introducing himself. He said he “wanted to get to know everyone working on the project,” but you didn’t see him introducing himself to anyone else. You two started talking during breaks. Then he started sitting with you at lunch. Then he was asking for your number.

In a matter of weeks he was asking you out to dinner, taking you to a cozy restaurant that you absolutely adored. He walked you home, his hand grazing yours until you intertwined your fingers.

It was all very romantic, so when Pete asked if he could take you on another, you obviously said yes. Flash forward two weeks and he finally got the courage to ask you to be his girlfriend, even though you were both exclusively seeing each other already.

After filming ended 2 months later, you were still working on the film in post, which meant you had an excuse to stay in Staten Island with Pete. After about 2 weeks in post, you spent more nights in his bed than your hotel’s.

Nearly 6 months later and you were happier than ever. You were splitting your time between your small apartment in the Bronx and Pete’s basement apartment. Pete introduced you to most of his friends, and you introduced him to yours.

But other than your small circles of friends, you kept your relationship fairly quiet. Pete doesn’t have social media and yours is strictly professional, so there are no pictures of you two together. You weren’t hiding each other, you loved each other, you just had no reason to tell tabloids. And you were perfectly happy with that.

Which made it so much worse when various news sites had pictures of you two holding hands. Had they been anyone else you would’ve thought they were cute, walking along the South Beach oceanside at night.

Pete had been in the SNL studio all day when the pictures were released, while you were in his apartment, trying your best to focus on the photoset in front of you. The production team wanted the film to scream “teen romance,” which basically entails subtle pink undertones and a higher saturation. But you couldn’t quite get the coloring right, probably because you weren’t actually focusing on the colors.

You sighed, looking at the time and realizing that Pete won’t be back until sometime after 2am, which was a whole 5 hours away. You let out a huff, pushing away from the desk and making your way to Pete’s closet and searching for one of his hoodies. They always smelled like him (and weed), so it was a comfort to you.

You crashed onto the bed, finding the phone that you had tossed there a few hours earlier. Turning it on you were surprised by the number of notifications you were getting. You knew the photos had surfaced but you weren’t expecting this.

Your Instagram was blowing up with new follows, likes, and comments. It was kind of exciting at first until you started reading some of the comments.

I mean, we knew he would downgrade from Ari, but this is like… really far down.

This girl really thinks she’s special just bc Pete’s dating her. Hun he could do so much better

Who is she?!? Literally no one.

Someone needs to show her how to dress

That hairstyle is not it honey

Pete Davidson is dating YOU??? He could do sooo much better

Ari was prettier sorry not sorry

The entire comment section on your last post, a picture of you on the set of your latest film, was pretty much the same. There were some nice comments, but a lot of mean ones.

And you couldn’t help it, you couldn’t stop looking at them. It felt so cliché, but it was like all of your deepest insecurities about being with Pete were thrown out on the table.

You knew that Pete had a fairly large following, and that a lot of people had really strong feelings about him. You had expected that if and when your relationship went public you would have a lot of people watching you, scrutinizing you. But you didn’t care because Pete was worth it.

Now you weren’t so sure. It wasn’t that you couldn’t handle people talking bad about you, because you definitely could, even if it hurt. You just weren’t expecting the amount of people comparing you to Ariana or saying that Pete could do so much better.

And it only bothered you so much because you felt it too. Your inner demons loved to remind you that Pete had dated Ariana fucking Grande and now he’s dating you. Anyone could see an obvious downgrade.

You turned your phone off and threw it on the opposite side of the bed, trying to think positive thoughts. “I am in control of my own thoughts and emotions. I am catching my negative thoughts and fixing them.” You murmured your therapist’s mantra to yourself, but it was too late. The thoughts had already taken hold of your mind.

Your eyes started to water as you could feel the heavy feeling in your chest set in. You pulled the hood over your head, pulling the straps to hide as much of your face as possible, and pulling your knees to your chest. You laid like that for a while, tears falling as doubts ran through your head. Once you had effectively exhausted your thoughts, you went numb. Your tears had stopped, but you couldn’t move. This wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling, but it sure wasn’t pleasurable.

There was a sort of buzzing throughout your body, almost like the feeling when your foot falls asleep, but everywhere. It seemed to block out your sound, as you didn’t hear the basement door open. You only knew that Pete was home when he sat beside you on the bed, pulling the hood off your face.

“There’s my beautiful girl.” He smiled at you. You tried your best to fake one back, but you honestly couldn’t find the energy. Pete pulled you so you were sitting up, back pressed against his front. His arms wrapped around your middle as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “What’s goin on?” He murmured against your skin.

“Did you see them?” You asked, your voice quiet and hoarse.

Pete let out a sigh, “Yeah, I saw them.” He paused, his hold on you getting tighter, like he was making sure you couldn’t leave. “I’m sorry baby. I know you didn’t want it to be a whole big thing.”

You turned your head to face him, “It’s not that. I really don’t mind that people know. We weren’t trying to hide anything.”

He smiled, “Yeah, I know I just- it was nice having this to ourselves.”

He wanted to hide you. He’s embarrassed of you.

Your inner dialogue never seemed to shut up.

You turned away from Pete, trying to hide the tears forming in your eyes. “Yeah.” You whispered.

“What’s wrong, you’re still upset.” He rocked you in his arms, kissing the top of your head. You shrugged in response, not trusting yourself to talk. “You can talk to me, y’know.”

You nodded, leaning further into Pete’s chest. “People found my Instagram.” You murmured, looking down and tracing the arrow tattoo on his hand.

“Whaddya mean? I thought it was public?” He furrowed his eyebrows.

You sighed, wishing you hadn’t said anything. “Yeah, it is. But after all the articles people started following me and shit.”

“I would ask how that’s a problem but I deleted my Instagram so I can’t really talk.” You could tell he was trying to make you feel better, but you couldn’t seem to get out of your haze.

You shook your head, deciding to drop the matter. “It’s not, I’m just being overdramatic.” You sighed, putting on a fake smile and facing him fully. “Wanna watch a movie?” You asked, trying to change the topic.

He gave you the I-know-you’re-bullshitting-me look, which made you look down. “Something’s bothering you, Y/N. And you’re trying to pretend it doesn’t because you think your feelings aren’t valid, but they are.” He tilted his head, trying to meet your eyes that were still trained on the bedsheets below you.

“Where’d you learn that one?” You chuckled half-heartedly.

“Rehab part 2” he smiled, hand coming to your jaw to tilt your head up. “C’mon, talk to me. I wanna help.”

You huffed, moving towards the opposite side of the bed where your phone laid. You opened it, finding your Instagram, and showing him the comments. His eyebrows furrowed as he scrolled through the comments. When he decided he’d had enough he put your phone down, grabbing your waist and lifting you onto his lap so you were essentially straddling him.

He leaned his forehead against your own, your noses touching. “That’s all bullshit, you know that, right?”

You looked down, biting your lip. “Y/N you’re the most amazing, most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, okay? I’m in love with you, not anyone else.” Pete’s eyes were searching yours, trying to figure out what was going on in your head.

“I know.” You sighed, “It’s just hard to be with you and not compare myself to her. And then all these people started to do it too, and they kept saying that you could do so much better and you can. So, I dunno I guess I just kind of spiraled.”

Pete captured your lips in a long, passionate kiss. “Y/N. There is literally no better than you. I can’t do better because you are the best woman I have ever loved. “

You pulled Pete in for another kiss. “Thank you, Pete. I love you.”

“I love you too. If this happens again, I want you to call me. I don’t care what I’m doing, I’d drop it all for you.” You smiled, sitting in the arms of the guy you loved. The thoughts didn’t just magically go away, but for a brief moment in time, you were happy.

#pete davidson #pete davidson imagine #pete davidson x reader #pete davidson angst #pete davidson fluff

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sundaysundaes · 4 years ago

Text

Jealousy

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader | Smut, Fluff, Drama | NC-17 | College AU Summary: It comes as a nice surprise when you saw your ex-boyfriend at your workplace and you thought everything was going to be fine. You both have moved on, right? Unfortunately for you, your boyfriend, Lee Donghyuck, thinks otherwise.

Warnings: rough unprotected sex, oral sex, slight choking, slight dirty talk, this is just pure filth you guys I’m so sorry I had too much feels

It’s the continuation of Before Our Story Began but can still be read separately if you want.

It has been months since you first dated Lee Donghyuck, also popularly known as Lee Haechan, and things were great—more than great, even, but all good things have come to an end at one point. Your relationship with Haechan is still going pretty strong, but now that you have passed the Honeymoon Phase—where it’s all just sex and raw passion—things can sometimes get a little tense.

While he’s been certainly fun and charming for the most times you’ve been together, not to mention adventurous when it comes to sex, Haechan can be really stubborn and selfish that you often start to bicker with him over the simplest of things.

Like yesterday, for example.

“Look, I said I’m sorry!” He whined and you held yourself back from rolling your eyes because that was so him and it wasn’t really cute anymore. Especially after he arrived an hour late at the cafe that he’d asked you to meet a day before.

“I’m not angry,” you stated, emptying the rest of your coffee. On the other side, Haechan’s ice americano was still pretty much full considering he just got there and you had ordered the drink for him an hour before, thinking that he was going to be on time for your date. But no, he was so into the new online game Jaemin had told him about a week ago that he began to lose track of time. It seemed to you that was all he’d been doing for the last few days, and you were fine with giving him some personal space but clearly not if he was wasting your precious time instead. Not everybody is as smart as him when it comes to keeping good grades. Maybe he doesn’t have to study much, but you do.

“You are! You’re totally angry!” He pointed out and you sighed because of course, I’m angry, you idiot, I had to spend an hour by myself doing literally nothing because you asked me to go out when I’m supposed to be working on my papers that’s due tomorrow but you kept yourself in silence. You had to be the adult in the relationship, especially when you’re dating a goddamn brat.

“Whatever.” You placed back your phone—which had been your only companion—into your purse and wore back your coat. “I have to go.”

His eyebrows—his thick, beautiful eyebrows that you love so much (though not that day) were knitted in both desperation and annoyance from how you acted. “Noona!” He wailed, grabbing your hand when you stood up from your seat. “What do you want me to do? If I could go back to the past, I would, but I can’t and you being unreasonably angry like this isn’t—”

“Unreasonably?”

Haechan’s jaw hung slackly on his face when he noticed the anger radiating off your body. You were angry before but not this angry. “I’m sorry, that came out wrong.”

You clicked your tongue in irritation, pulling your hand out of his grip. “I’ll see you later, Donghyuck.” It was cold, the way you said it, and Haechan sensed that. But being the whiny brat that he was, he just kept on shouting back, gathering people’s attention.

“Can’t we be adults and talk about this—Yah!” When you didn’t answer��or even glanced back at him—he threw his hands in the air, yelling, “You know what? Fine! I don’t really want to hang out with you anyway! In fact, it’s actually better for me if we don’t hang, ever!”

But you already had your feet out of the door.

On the next day, he came by to your dorm at four in the morning, making your roommate groan with a hellish fire burning in her eyes. “If that’s your boyfriend, I am going to kill him.”

“Don’t bother, I will,” you muttered in response before you stepped down from your bed, turned on the lighting (which earned another loud groan from your friend), and reached for the door. Haechan stood there with his hair looking like a bird’s nest, his cheeks reddening from the morning cold, and his eyes bleary from lacking sleep.

“I’m sorry,” he softly said in all of the sincerity he could emit. “I’ve been an asshole.”

“It’s four in the morning, Haechan-ah.”

“I know, but I can’t sleep thinking about what happened before and I don’t think I can before you forgive me.” He did his best pout. It was cute, but not cute enough to wash your vexation away. “Also, it’s raining heavily outside, if you haven’t noticed, so I thought it would add some dramatic effects to my apology.”

“You’re not wet though.”

“Neither were you before you met me,” he joked, wiggling his eyebrows but when he noticed you glaring at him in reticence—oh if looks could kill—he flinched and hastily added, “Sorry, bad timing. I don’t know why I said that. Well, umm, it was kinda cold when I stepped under the rain so I decided to just bring an umbrella with me.” He suddenly seemed like he remembered something. “Oh yeah, can I leave it here? I’ve got an early class today and I don’t really want to carry it with me everywhere.”

That earned another flat stare from you. “You’re not taking any of this seriously, are you?”

“I am! I swear!” He squeaked, shuffling inside his bag before he took out a white box with a red bow wrapped around it. “Look, I brought you some chocolates.”

“I’m on a diet.”

“Well, now, how am I supposed to know?”

“I literally told you that yesterday.” To say he was testing your patience would be an understatement at that point. “Remember? When you arrived late on our date and you asked why aren’t you ordering anything and I said I’m on a fucking diet!”

“Yo, chill, I was just trying to be nice.” Haechan grabbed you by the shoulders, massaging the sore spots and it would probably feel good if you weren’t so pissed-off over his antics. “Also, Noona, don’t you know? Men have a harder time remembering things than women do. And that’s just scientifically speaking, not me.”

You exhaled so loudly into the air, slapping his hands away. “Look, it’s literally four in the morning. Can we talk again when the sun is up? Like normal people?”

“Noona, pleaseeeeee.” He threw his head back in exasperation. “I said I’m sorry! What else do you wa—”

“JUST FORGIVE HIM FOR FUCK’S SAKE! YOU GUYS ARE TAKING FOREVER AND YOU’RE GIVING ME HEADACHES!” Maybe you and Haechan were getting a bit loud, but your roommate was just shouting like she was about to march on a war so you didn’t really have the choice. It was either take your boyfriend’s apology or have your roommate kill both you and your boyfriend at the same time.

Haechan sheepishly and annoyingly smiled at you. “She’s got a point, you know.”

But, of course, he does learn his lesson from time-to-time so things don’t always end up in fights. And Haechan can be considerate, if he wants, noticing the little things that you do. Like when you’re wearing a new skirt (or new underwear, for that matter), giving you his jacket when you sniffle from the cold (as cheesy as that sounds, it does make your heart flutter a bit), or intertwining your fingers together when you’re nervous before your presentation.

Hopefully today this considerate version of his comes out to play again because there’s something you want to talk about with him.

“I think I need to start looking for a part-time job,” you say, sighing contently as he has his lips on your neck, suckling on the soft skin. Your fingers are playing with the soft strands of his hair, unconsciously tugging at them when he brings his tongue into the game. You know it’s not really the best time to have this conversation—especially not when he has his hand under your shirt as you sit on his lap at the back of his car—but with Haechan, it’s almost always like this whenever you’re alone with him so you don’t really have that many options. “I’m running out of money.”

“From dumping too many dead bodies in the swamp?” He chuckles next to your ear, unbuttoning more of your shirt and pushing the fabric off your shoulder. “Babe, I’ve told you,” he mouths against your skin. “You gotta search for a new swamp that’s free of charge—”

“Shut up.” But you’re laughing anyway. This inside joke you two have has become somewhat of a routine—a topic that pops out anytime in any conversation.

You can feel his grin pressing against the sensitive skin below your ear. “Told ya this swamp thing could be our thing.”

“No, I’m serious.” But despite that, you have to hold back a moan when you feel his hand roaming around your chest, his fingers slipping underneath your bra. You can’t tell him exactly why you need this job because you don’t want him to feel sorry for you. But the truth is, your parents back home have been having financial problems and you know how costly your college tuition can get. You just want to help out, even if it’s not much, and try to survive on your own without using your parents’ money. “I need some pocket money.”

Haechan has your earlobe between his teeth, his breathing feels warm and extremely sexy in your ears. “Mmm, for what?”

“To buy personal things.”

“What personal things?”

“Like…” You bite your lower lip, having the hardest time concentrating when he starts to play with your nipple, his thumb brushing against the sensitive bud. “I don’t know, like girl things.”

Haechan suddenly pulls away, looking you straight in the eyes with his own gleaming in excitement. “You mean like a customized dildo?”

“Make-up, Donghyuck.” You flatly stare back. All your sexual excitement from before? Gone. “I mean, make-up.”

“Sure, that too. But,” he insists and you roll your eyes, knowing where this is going. “Have you ever considered playing with a dildo in your spare time? Because I have. I mean, picturing you using it. Not me using it in my ass, oh God, no.”

“Are you done?”

“No, seriously.” It turns out, he’s not finished. And he still has a long way to go, judging by the enthusiastic look in his eyes. “Because I would totally buy it for you if it’s a dildo you need. Or any sex toys, for that matter. No matter how expensive it is, I’ll pay! I’ll save up some money and buy some so we can use them together in the future!”

He’s making it look like he’s talking about buying a house for your future marriage and it’s cute and disgusting at the same time so you stop him by pinching the bridge of his nose. It’s pathetic, the way he whines, but as long as it can stop him from sputtering nonsense, you’ll do it again.

“Why do you need make-up anyway?” He eventually gives up, rubbing his red nose, still wincing from the pain. “You’re already pretty without it.” And it really does sound sincere, the way he says it. Haechan flirts a lot, even when you’ve been together for months, he still does it pretty often. But he does have his sincerity from time to time, just like now, and you can’t help but blush a little because of it.

“Well, I’m more confident with it.”

“Well, of course, you do look smoking hot with your make-up on, don’t get me wrong,” he adds, lazily circling his arms around your waist as he leans his back to the car’s seat. “But you’re beautiful the way you are too. Like, you literally can wear that I woke up like this shirt every morning and you won’t find me complaining.”

“You complained about my morning breath this morning.”

“That you should work on.”

“Asshole.” You push a palm against his face, which he licks playfully like a dog. This is your favorite Haechan, if you have to be honest, with his lips pulled back showcasing a boyish grin, his eyes sparkling as he gazes at you, and his voice sounding light and airy with a hint of teasing in his words. And of course, also with the way he has his hair slightly pushed back, his forehead shown and his eyebrows raised whenever he throws flirty lines at you.

You really should consider yourself lucky to be able to call someone like him, who has the perfect balance of cute and sexy, as your boyfriend.

“I really like you,” you say, abruptly out of nowhere that it surprises you too. Haechan’s laughter stops almost immediately, his eyes searching yours. There’s silence hanging in the air, slowly suffocating you, and you’re about to beg him to say something when he smiles, so gentle and soft, with his hand reaching up to cup your cheek, rubbing comforting circles with his thumb.

“I really like you too,” he says, almost like he’s sighing. His eyes go up-and-down your face, switching from your eyes and your lips. “I like you so much that it drives me crazy sometimes.”

It’s insane how fast he can turn your steady heart rate into something that beats too loudly for your ears. “Okay, stop right there. I can’t with all this cheesiness you’re throwing at me. Let’s just make-out.”

And that sexy smirk of his grows back almost immediately. “I won’t argue with that.”

***

It’s not easy getting a job these days, especially when you don’t really have a set of skills you can be proud of but luckily enough, you’ve found a part-time job as a waiter at a family restaurant nearby. The salary is slightly below your expectation so maybe you have to recalculate your budgeting again but beggars can’t be choosers. You thought it should be enough for now. And the most important thing is, you only have to work three days a week so you can fit in well with your campus’ schedule.

The only remaining problem is your boyfriend because, believe it or not, he demands more time than all of your classes and assignments combined.

“I can’t believe we have our Netflix account renewed like two months ago and yet we haven’t watched anything on it,” Haechan complains, a bag of popcorn on his lap. He’s in his black sweat pants, hair all tousled from lying around on the bed all day. He’s already munching more than he should, even way before you can log in to your Netflix account. “At this point, we’re just throwing our money away.”

“Don’t blame me,” you retort, taking the bowl into your arms so you can climb into his lap, snuggling close to his chest. “I’m not the one who got my dick hard during the first half of literally every movie we decided to watch together.”

“You literally rubbed your ass against my crotch every single time. What a man gotta do in that situation?”

A smile creeps up your face. That you certainly did. It’s just so funny to have him flinch every now and then whenever you move slightly in his arms so you often just exaggerate your movements a bit, sometimes leaning forward in a suggestive way whenever you tried to change the brightness of your MacBook screen—so Haechan could take a good look of your ass—before settling back between his legs, making sure to give him enough friction as you slid down. Or sometimes you just laid your head on his shoulder, pressing a random kiss to his neck, and just went back to watching the screen as if you didn’t do anything. It really didn’t take long before Haechan groaned in exasperation, threw the bowl away, tackled you down to the bed, and pulled your shorts down your legs.

“Should I move away then?” You offer. “We can stay, like, five feet apart from each other as we watch this.”

“Nah.” He shakes his head, pulling you closer again to his chest. “I like to snuggle. You’re warm and you smell really good, it comforts me. Besides, having sex with you is so much better than watching every movie out there.”

“Even better than watching The Kissing Booth?”

“Yah!” The way his cheeks turn scarlet almost immediately is too cute for you to handle. “You promised you wouldn’t make fun of me! See, this is why I—”

You cut him off with a chaste kiss, letting your lips linger on his the way he likes it before you pull away and pat him on the cheek. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it. Forgive me?”

Haechan unconsciously juts his lower lip out, just a little. “Fine,” he mutters, wrapping his arms tighter around your waist before he skims his nose along the nape of your neck. “Only because you’re cute,” he whispers.

“Oh right, that reminds me,” you say, closing your eyes as you listen to his breathing. It’s somewhat calming your nerves, after a long day of doing… well, nothing, actually. “I’ll be busy every Wednesday, Saturday and Sunday from now on so we won’t be able to hang out during those days.”

“What?!” He shrieks, almost turning you deaf. “Why?!”

“Because I have my part-time job, didn’t I tell you that before?” You can honestly hear your ears ringing from the loudness of his voice. “Or did you not listen to me again?”

“I can handle it if you work during the weekdays, but on the weekends too?” He’s actually looking pretty upset, though not that you haven’t expected him to be. “That’s our time! How can you do that to me? To us?! This is so not fair!”

You roll your eyes. “Stop being a drama queen. You literally spent the last weekend playing Overwatch at Jaemin’s place.”

“Whoa, hey,” he crows, pulling away from you with both hands raised in the air and forcing you to turn and look at him in the eyes. You do it as you nonchalantly munch on your popcorn, enjoying how dramatic your boyfriend can be at times like this. “Once again, lady,” he stresses on the word, narrowing his eyes at you. “They were holding a very, very important Anniversary Event and that does not happen every day. It’s not like I have any other choice! They were giving out new skins and other rewards!”

“Your choice was to spend your Saturday night with your fingers on your keyboard or in me. That was your choice.”

Haechan opens his mouth to say something, already holding out one finger in the air as if he’s about to make a good excuse but he fails almost immediately when your point begins to sink in his head. “You’re right,” he admits, “I’m sorry. What was I thinking? I should’ve been wiser.”

You pat his hair as you would do to a child. “Look, we can still hang out. I only work during the day, you know. You can always pick me up after work and we can get dinner together or something.”

He pouts, lowering his head as he murmurs, “It’s still not the same, though. I like spending time with you.”

You can feel your heart flutter from the way he says his line so genuinely. “Me too, Haechannie. Let’s just promise to always meet up on the weekends after I’m done with my work.”

The pout still does not falter away but it’s nothing a kiss can’t fix.

***

“Haechannie, I really need to go.” You struggle to slip yourself away from his long arms, holding back a laugh as you do it, and you almost reach the end of his bed but your boyfriend easily hooks an arm around your waist and pulls you back into his chest.

After not seeing each other for five days, you could finally see your boyfriend with his dazzling bright smile in person when he picked you up after work on a Saturday evening. You didn’t realize how much you’d missed him until he snatched you back into his embrace, intoxicating you with his amazing scent and airy laughter that sounds like music to your ears. It was a good thing being separated for a few days like that because Haechan became much more clingy in the most adorable way, following you around like a lovesick puppy. Even during sex, he was all giggly and soft, gently asking you how you feel, whether he was being too fast, or simply just telling you how beautiful you look even when you were pretty much exhausted from work. It was a nice change.

Both of you are still pretty much naked from the morning shower you just took together—or rather, the morning shower you took when suddenly your boyfriend came barging in, greasily saying, “My, my, there’s a naked lady in my shower. This must be my lucky day,” and ended up moaning against your mouth instead of washing the soap off your body.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he says, smiling into the kiss just like you do and you let him part your lips with his, slowly slipping his tongue in and tasting the roof of your mouth. “Oh man, I must be a freak for being so turned on from the fact that you’re wearing my shampoo.”

“You’ve always been a freak,” you snicker, pushing his face away with your palm. “Now, get off me. Jaemin can come back any second.”

“Jaemin’s too busy sucking Jeno’s morning wood, I’m sure. He won’t be back anytime soon.”

“Well, my shift is starting in thirty minutes.”

“Which leaves us twenty-nine minutes and fifty seconds to get each other off and ten seconds for you to get ready.” He lowly chuckles, his voice still sounding quite deep from sleep as he nips against the column of your neck.

“I’m serious…” You can tell that your voice becomes way less convincing. It’s just Haechan feels so warm and he smells so good, you have to literally offer your best effort to deny him and his touches. You’re still in the middle of putting in that so-called effort when you notice he’s sucking on the supple skin, to the point it begins to hurt a little bit. “Don’t suck too hard! You’ll leave bruises and I am not gonna wear a scarf again.”

“Good,” he murmurs against your skin. “So everyone will know you’re mine.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

You sigh, tangling your fingers around his hair, arching your back to press your body closer to him. “You can be too possessive sometimes, do you know that?”

“Any man would if their girlfriend is as pretty as you,” he replies, pulling away from you a little so he can bore his eyes into yours. “Stay with me today.”

As much as you want to, especially with that hooded eyes looking at you with so much passion and desire, you have to be the responsible adult for today. “I can’t, Haechannie.”

“Noona~” His serious demeanor falters, and the whiny brat that he is comes back to the surface again. “Pleaseeee~ I’m lonely and I’m hard, can’t you just be kind to me for just one day?”

“Are you using your aegyo on me to get a quickie? Seriously?”

“What, it’s not working?” He tilts his head to the side, looking at you with that sexy smirk and his eyebrow raised seductively. “I thought aegyo was your thing.”

No, but your goddamn smirk and eyebrow raise surely are. “Fuck, okay, ten minutes. Can we finish in ten minutes?”

“I can guarantee that you will.” His smirk grows wider, licking his lower lip. “But I’m not sure if you can make me.”

“Is that a challenge?” You push him with both hands until he falls back to the bed, with you straddling his lap. “I’m going to make you take your words back, Lee Donghyuck, you better be prepared.”

***

You’ve broken two plates so far, and you’re sure you’re about to be fired if you even do a tiny mistake in the next hour but you try to keep yourself calm and composed and promise yourself to do better. It’s not that you’re a lousy waiter—okay, maybe a bit from the lack of experience—but the restaurant you’re working in can be surprisingly packed during lunch hours and it’s really taking all that you have to carry three porcelain plates on a tray as you walk on high heels that are killing you in every step you take. You often complain about the blisters at the back of your heels when you sit next to Haechan in his car, which usually ends up with him massaging your feet, while mumbling, “See, this is why you should’ve agreed with me when I told you about buying dildos. I would work my ass off to pay for that, and you can just lie around in my room all day.”

You’re getting better at your job the more days go by, and you’re much confident now in talking with customers. You’re already standing pretty in your uniform with a menu book in your arms, ready to greet the next customer but when the front door opens, all of your professionalism just goes straight out of the window.

“No way…” Your jaw hangs loosely on your face, eyes blinking twice in surprise. You can’t believe what you’re seeing. There, walking through the entrance door of the restaurant, is your ex-boyfriend from high school, Jeong Jaehyun. Dressed perfectly in a light blue buttoned-up shirt and a pair of black khaki pants, Jaehyun looks much, much better than how you remembered him to be. His dark hair stands in contrast to his pale skin, his veins appearing along his wrists and you have to remind yourself to stop staring and proceed with your work.

You take hesitant steps to meet him, swallowing your nervous breath and hoping that you don’t look as awkward as you think. You almost trip on your own feet when you notice Jaehyun looking back at you, his eyes widening in surprise before his lips turn upward into that gentle smile that reminds you of how he used to be back in high school. Maybe some things never change.

“Hi,” you greet with an awkward smile on your face.

“Hey.” The way his eyes droop slightly when he sees you feels nostalgic, and perhaps he’s much taller now because you have to look up to meet his eyes. “I can’t believe I’m seeing you. It’s been a while.”

“You’re right,” you reply, chuckling a little to mask how tense you really are. “Would you like me to take you to your seat?”

“Oh no, I won’t be long,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “I just wanted to talk to the manager for a sec.”

You furrow your eyebrows, trying your best not to get distracted with the way his hair ruffles almost perfectly under his touch. “Is there something wrong?”

“No, just wanted to see the latest financial report.” He smiles, showcasing his teeth. “My grandfather owns this place, and I’m helping him take care of the business while he’s overseas.”

Fuck. “A-ah, is that so?” Meeting him once as a customer is already painfully awkward enough for you to bear, but actually working for him?!

“I won’t bother you, I promise,” Jaehyun immediately adds, “I wasn’t aware that you work here, actually. Has it been long since you started?”

“About two weeks.” You fidget on your feet, having the hardest time making eye contact with him. “And I’m not very good at this.”

“Wait, are you the one who keeps breaking plates?”

You wince. “Yes. Can you please not fire me? I’ll pay for them, I promise.”

And Jaehyun laughs, his deep voice booming into the air. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll pay for them myself if that’s what it takes to keep you around.” He says his lines so naturally that it surprises you both when the words finally sink in. “I—I mean,” he clears his throat, “It’s just really been a while since I last saw you so I thought we should really catch up on things. How are you?”

“I’m—”

“Boss,” your manager suddenly comes to interrupt, carrying some paper sheets in her arms. “These are the reports you wanted. I can e-mail you the rest if you need more details.” And when she sees you standing next to Jaehyun with the worst looking smile you’ve ever had on your face, she squints her eyes menacingly at you, “What did you do this time?”

“She didn’t do anything,” Jaehyun hastily answers before you can even form a word of protest. “She’s a dear friend of mine. It’s been a while since we talked, so do you mind if I borrow her for a while?”

Your manager seems utterly shocked and you kind of dance happily in your mind because she’s been kind of mean to you—though you were the one who gave her the reasons to be—and seeing her speechless, only able to mumble out a small, “S-sure,” before she trails away back to her office like this becomes the highlight of your day.

“Thank you,” you say to him, not sure why but it feels right.

“Let me know if she bullies you again,” he says, gently patting you on the head and you can feel his fingers slowly brush your bangs off your temple. It seems like he’s unaware of what he’s doing and you can understand why because that’s just his habit, even from the time when you hadn’t started dating yet. You remember the time when he said he liked your eyes—he thought they were beautiful, and hiding them under your bangs like that was a shame.

You take a step back, looking anywhere but his eyes. “Umm…”

“Right, sorry,” he fumbles with his hands, the tip of his ears growing red. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Can we just sit and talk?”

You smile, genuinely this time. He really hasn’t changed despite his appearance. “Sure.”

***

Jaehyun doesn’t visit the restaurant every day and you don’t really expect him to, but when he does, he always spares some time to talk to you privately—usually during your break time so your manager can stop throwing ice daggers from her eyes at you.

“I’ve tried to call you after graduation,” he confesses as he takes you out for some coffee at the nearest cafe. Your shift is over and you’re waiting for Haechan to pick you up but he’s running late because he has to take a quiz that he missed from skipping the class the previous week—you guess it had something to do with him pulling an all-nighter playing Overwatch again—and you told him to take his time.

“You did?”

“Yeah. Several times, actually, but I couldn’t get connected.”

“Maybe you called after I lost my phone,” you reply, taking a sip of your hot latte and wincing when it nearly scalds your tongue. “I had to change my number. I lost my contacts and everything.”

“That makes sense. Would it be okay if I ask for your numbers now?”

“Only for business purposes,” you tease, and he grins back, almost boyishly.

“Only for business purposes,” he confirms, “Just so I can give you a heads-up when I’m about to fire you.”

You gasp, half-amused, half-terrified. “Please tell me you’re joking.” And he only responds with another laugh. Talking with Jaehyun is easy and comforting, and he really listens to what you’re saying like a loving older brother taking care of his sister. It’s a nice change considering it’s always you who have to act like the mature one when having a conversation with Haechan—not that it isn’t good. It just can get quite tiring after some time.

Jaehyun is in the middle of walking you back to your workplace when he tells you stories about the things he did after graduation, and how he’s planning to continue with his study overseas to get a master’s degree in business management as soon as he’s done with his work here. You’re so entranced with his story that you barely notice your boyfriend waiting with his back pressed against the side of his car, eyes busy staring at his phone screen.

“Haechannie, you’re here!” You run to his spot, a grin spreading wide on your face before you lean up and kiss his cheek.“When did you get here?”

“Noonaaaaa,” he pouts, voice becoming whiny as usual. Compared to how he acts, he’s dressed maturely in a white shirt and a black leather jacket, his silver necklace hanging low on his neck. It takes you a good five seconds to ogle at his amazing looks while telling your heart not to get too excited. At least not until you get back at the dorm so you can rip that shirt off him with your own hands. “I’ve been calling you three times already. Where have you been?”

“You have?” You immediately check on your phone, noticing that yes, in fact, he did call you three times. You didn’t notice before because your phone was on silent. “I’m sorry, I forgot to switch it back after work. Did you wait long?”

“A bit,” he pushes his bottom lip out but it soon turns into a cheeky grin. “But nothing a kiss can’t fix.”

“Haechannie.” You pat him softly on his cheek. “We’ve got company.” And at that, he begins to widen his line of sight—because he usually just focuses on you and forgets his surroundings—and spots Jaehyun standing a few meters behind you with his hands buried deep within the pockets of his pants.

“Oh,” he comments, acting nonchalant though you notice by the slight raise of his eyebrow that he’s already annoyed by his presence. “Who are you?”

It’s kind of rude to suddenly ask for his name, especially in the cold tone Haechan is using and Jaehyun’s lips twitch at his words. “Jeong Jaehyun.”

“Well, Jeong Jaehyun,” Haechan says with mockery on his tone, straightening his posture and you wonder whether it’s because he feels slightly inferior to Jaehyun’s height. “My girlfriend and I would like some privacy from now on, so if you can just run along now, that’d be great.”

“Hey!” You slap his shoulder, gasping in disbelief before you turn around to face the other man. “I’m sorry, he can be quite rude sometimes but I’m sure he didn’t mean it.”

“Meant it with all my heart.”

“Be quiet.” And even Haechan can tell for his own good that he shouldn’t push your buttons further than that.

“It’s okay, I have to go anyway,” Jaehyun casually says, smiling angelically like how he always does though his eyes don’t really play along. “Your boyfriend is cute. How old are you? Does your mom know you’re still playing outside at this hour?”

Oh my God, not you too. You immediately grab Haechan’s hand to stop him before he flings himself forward and throws an arm toward the other man. You can see him clenching his jaw, almost baring his teeth when Jaehyun laughs quietly to himself, saying, “I’m just kidding. Have a good night, you two,” before he walks back to the restaurant, most likely to have another business talk with the manager.

“Who the fuck does he think he is?” Haechan blurts out, his eyebrows knitted together in annoyance. You stroke his arm, trying to soothe him down but what he does is relocating his glare on you instead, almost yelling, “Why were you with him? How many times have you guys seen each other? And why on earth did you take his side?!”

You’re too tired to care, to be honest, let alone answering him. You’re also suffering from the cold of the night, wanting desperately to climb into Haechan’s car and put on the heater to warm yourself up. “I’ll explain on our way back,” you sniffle, squeezing his hand. “Can we get inside the car? Please? I’m freezing.”

You can tell he’s still very much upset but his gaze softens when he sees puffs of air flowing from your chapped lips and your nose turning red. He sighs into the air but opens the door for you. He doesn’t really talk until he has his engine started, and you can practically see steam coming out from his ears as he drives into the night.

“Have you had dinner yet?” You ask, trying to keep as casual as you can.

“No.”

“Should we order something—”

“I’m not hungry.”

“O… kay…” You hold yourself back from sighing too loud. He’s testing your patience again, but it’s fine, you’re the mature one. You can handle this. “We’ll just go straight back to my place then. I’m sure I can make you something. I think I still have some pasta with—”

“I think I’m just gonna go back to my room right after I drop you off.” His words don’t hurt as much as the tone he’s using. You’re trying to patch things up even though you’re sure you haven’t done anything wrong but he’s not even trying to apologize about how rude he acted earlier. You can’t help but snap, probably because your fatigue is taking its toll. You figure you can act mature any other time, but not today.

“Okay, what is wrong with you?” You can feel your voice rising and it forces him to sneaks a glance at you but only for a split second before he brings back his eyes on the road again. “I’ve been trying to be nice to you but you keep on acting like a brat—”

“Oh, of course, now you have a problem with me being a brat.” He grits his teeth, sinking his nails into the steering wheel. “I think we both know that’s pretty much how I act around you—around anyone, really—and if I remember it clearly, you said being a brat was part of my charm. That was, of course, before you met this oh-so-mature Jung fucking Jaehyun and suddenly, now, I’m fucking annoying.”

“I didn’t just meet him, Hyuck.” You exhale loudly, rolling your eyes. “I’ve been friends with him since high school.”

He clicks his tongue in aggravation, quietly adding, “Friends that fucked each other whenever your parents weren’t around, I’m sure.” And he probably didn’t mean his words to be heard because he just said them out of spite, but you did hear him and it makes your blood sparks in fury.

“Actually, yes,” you jeer back, “We did. He was the one who took my virginity away, just so you know and—WHOA!”

The sudden turn of the wheels makes you yelp and scramble to wrap your fingers tightly around your seatbelt as if you were hanging for dear life, and Haechan suddenly stomps his feet on the brakes, messily parking his car on the side of the street and earning a lot of angry car honks from the drivers behind him in return.

“What?!” He shouts, eyes wide, completely ignoring the passerby or the fact that you’re still trying to catch your breath. “You had sex with him?!”

“Once, Donghyuck, Jesus Christ!” You almost yank every strand of your hair out of your head. “Just once! And I never did that with anyone else until I met you!”

“I can’t believe you never told me this! And now you just hang around with him behind my back?!”

“What’s there to tell?! It’s in the past, way back when I didn’t even know your name. It’s not like you tell me things like this too. I don’t have problems with you sleeping with hundreds of girls before you met me.”

The sudden silence that surrounds you snap you back to reality and you regret everything you just said because you know you didn’t mean it. Well, it certainly has been bugging you for quite some time whenever you think about how easy and casual he’s always been when it comes to sex—not to mention how experienced he is—so you can’t help but wonder. You do understand that it’s not fair blurting about it to him like this, though. Especially not in this situation.

And the way he just suddenly becomes mute almost makes you shudder.

“Hyuck, I didn’t mean—”

“So that’s how you think of me?” He asks, voice low and deep. “Is that the reason why you’re seeing him? Because you don’t trust me?”

“Oh my God, Donghyuck,” you almost scream from all this frustration you’re venting out. “This is getting out of hand. Okay, first, that was wrong of me to say that and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any of it. And second, stop being so jealous—I was only out with him to get some coffee. We no longer have feelings for each other, I can assure you that.”

“Yeah,” he snorts, “Sure. Whatever.”

“Hyuck, he’s my boss! I was just being polite—”

“Well, that’s just fucking great, isn’t it? No wonder you keep insisting on taking this job. It’s not even about the money now, is it?” He slams his hand against the steering wheel, groaning out, “I’m so fucking stupid,” before he throws his head to the side, glaring at the scenery outside his window instead of you.

There’s silence hanging in the air again and you take a deep breath to calm yourself as much as you can because you know where this is going. You just hope you’re wrong. “Why does it sound like you’re accusing me of cheating on you?”

“Because maybe deep down, that’s what you’re doing?” He’s not even looking at you when he says it, but the bitterness in his voice is clear and it’s loud enough to finally tweak the final string of patience you have left in you.

So you grab your purse, carry your jacket in one arm and step down from the car. “I’m taking a cab,” you say and when he still doesn’t look at you, you add, “Come talk to me when you’re mature enough to have this conversation.”

And not knowing your own strength, you slam the door until his ears begin to ring.

***

It’s the worst fight you’ve ever had, not just with him but with anyone else too. You’re more the type that avoids situations like this—one that says sorry even when you know you’re not doing anything wrong just to reduce the tension, so this fight you’re having with Haechan has been ruining your mood for a whole damn week since day one. And the fact that he doesn’t come to apologize or even send a text or two is driving you insane.

You can’t help but to dwell in his way of thinking, trying to see whether it’s really your fault that this is happening. Yes, maybe you should’ve explained better, but he wasn’t really giving you the chance to do it, was he? And yes, maybe you should’ve told him about you hanging out with Jaehyun every now and then or the fact that he’s your boss but you just couldn’t find the right timing before. Well, it’s certainly too late to start now.

Should I call him…?

Because you miss him. You miss Haechan so badly. You miss his bratty smile, you miss his annoying whine, you miss his stupid dazzling smile, you miss his scent, his kiss, his embrace—everything about him. You didn’t realize how close he was to you—already becoming a big part of your life—and you just really notice it now when he’s completely out of your sight.

“Fuck this.” You’re in the middle of searching his name in your contacts and about to press dial when suddenly you get his message.

Can we meet tomorrow?

It’s really weird that a simple text can make your heart race and almost send you jumping in delight. Trying to keep your heart rate back to normal, you type back.

Of course. What time? Where?

You wait for his reply and it seems like the time suddenly slows down where seconds feel like hours. You nibble at your bottom lip, hesitating at first but sending it anyway.

I miss you, Haechannie.

Your heart starts hammering against your ribcage again. A lot of thoughts begin entering your mind at the same time, making you worry about what if he wants to meet me because he wants to break up with me? What if he doesn’t miss me and he’s grossed out with my text? What if—

His reply arrives with a slight ding coming from your phone, and with shaky hands, you open his text.

I’ll text you the time and place tomorrow morning.

There’s a disappointment that bubbles up inside your chest but the next text from him erases all of that almost instantly.

I miss you too, Noona. Good night.

And you think that maybe tonight, you can finally have a good sleep.

***

“Can you fill in for tonight?”

It’s the first thing your manager said to you the second you stepped inside the restaurant. You haven’t even taken your jacket yet, and it’s really rare to see your manager walking around the place on a Sunday morning but here she is, and she’s already ordering things around.

Your mouth suddenly feels dry. “Pardon?”

“There will be a banquet tonight for the Jeong family and we need every waiter we can get. I know you’re lousy at your job but Jaehyun-Sajangnim seems to like you so I hope you can stick longer for a few hours.”

“I…” You wet your lower lip anxiously. “I can’t. I already promised someone—”

“Look, this is not a request. It’s an order.” She seems like she’s running out of patience. “But I’ll pay handsomely for your time. I think you need the money to pay for those two plates you broke anyway. You know how expensive they are.”

You wince. “Yes, Ma’am.” It’s not like she’s leaving you with any other option. You figure you can call Haechan later during your break time. It’s still not confirmed anyway, your date with him. You’ll think of a way to make it up to him.

It’s only for a few hours anyway, right?

I’ll just text him now. You dip your hand into your purse, trying to find your iPhone as fast as you can. You run your fingers along the screen, typing letters with your thumbs.

Haechannie, something came up and I have to stay longer at work. I’ll see you later tonight at your place and we can talk then.

“What are you doing standing around like that?” Your manager suddenly shouts and you almost drop your phone in surprise. “Go and change your uniform now, we’re opening the place in ten minutes!”

“Y-yes, Ma’am!” You fumble with your steps, throwing your phone back into your purse in a hurry. You inwardly sigh. Today is going to be a long day.

I’m sorry, Haechannie.

***

“Great work today,” Jaehyun says when most of his family members have left the restaurant. You didn’t realize how big and wealthy his family was so it amazed you that one family could occupy the whole seatings they have in this place. There were more than thirty people in the room before and you had to change your high heels into a pair of flat shoes so you can run from one table to another while carrying several plates at once.

“Not really, I almost broke another plate today,” you respond with a sigh, which earns a low chuckle in return. Jaehyun has his back leaning against the wall just an arms reach away from the front door, waiting for you to finish shoving all your belongings into your bag before he curls his fingers around the doorknob and twists it open.

“Thanks,” you say, almost sheepishly because it looks weird, no matter how you see it—your boss is opening the door for you. “Stop being so nice, Jae, you’re making other staff jealous.”

“But I do this to all my staff,” Jaehyun snickers, following after your trail.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Hey,” he calls, placing his hand on your shoulder so you’ll stop on your track and turn around to face him. “Thank you.”

You raise your eyebrow questioningly. “For what?”

“For acting like how you normally do around me,” he explains, smiling a little bit bashfully. “For not being so awkward after our break-up.”

“Oh… Well…” You try to focus your gaze somewhere else, suddenly finding the silver watch you wear around your wrist entertaining. “It’s been years since then, I think we both have moved on by now, right?”

There’s a thick tension growing between the two of you and you almost beg him to say something before it starts to suffocate you.

“Sure,” he says, but the pressure in his tone speaks otherwise. You look up to meet his eyes, expecting him to smile and bring another topic into the conversation, but all he does is just gazing at you with these gentle, almost longing eyes that make your heart stops for a split second.

You know this can’t go any further.

“Well, uhh,” Jaehyun clears his throat, running a hand through his hair, perhaps feeling rather embarrassed himself. “It’s already late. Do you want me to escort you back to your place?”

And you find it hard to form a sentence, still somewhat baffled from the way he’s acting around you, and you’re so unfocused that when another voice enters your hearing, it shocks you down to your spine.

“I’ll be taking her from here,” Haechan says, startling you both and you turn around so fast on your heel to face him that you almost stumble forward. Your boyfriend is standing with one hand carrying a black suit and another one digging inside the pocket of his pants, dressed nicely in a white buttoned up with sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He has the top two buttons of his shirt loosened, showing a glimpse of his collar bones and the silver necklace he usually hangs around his neck. His short brown hair is parted to the side, slightly pushed back to showcase his temple. You’ve never seen him dressed so sharp and elegantly before since the first day you met him and you can’t help but feel a little bit starstruck from the way he looks. But you soon realize that there must be a reason why he’s so dressed up and you feel terrible because you don’t know what it is.

What day is it today?

“Haechan—”

The way he grabs your hand shows how agitated he actually is despite the calm facade he places on his face, and it’s glaringly possessive the way he drags you to match his step on the way to his car but you follow him without a word, not even sparing a glance at Jaehyun who’s looking at him as if he just stole something important from him. Haechan opens the door to the passenger seat, and you climb in with your heart thrumming loud against your chest.

Haechan walks to the other side without making eye contact with Jaehyun but even at that point, your ex-boyfriend doesn’t dare to say a word or make a move, probably because he knows he has no right to do so. Haechan does not look angry and neither does he act like it but the quietness that fills the space between you, even when his car engine is blaring noisily outside, speaks louder than everything that he does.

“Umm.” You suddenly feel parched, your throat burning with every word you try to form. “T-thank you for picking me up.” You’re about to flinch from how terrible you just sounded. “I thought you were waiting at the dorm. Didn’t you get my text?”

It takes a few seconds that feel like forever for him to answer. “I don’t know, did you send me one?” He simply asks, voice flat and nonchalant, as he switches the gears of his car.

Did I not? You gulp in horror and begin to frantically search for your phone in your purse. Your heart almost leaps out from your chest when you see your phone is dead, probably ran out of battery sometimes during your hectic hours. You didn’t check on it before because you thought that Haechan most likely had seen your text and was waiting for you at the dorm, so you decided to just run in a hurry without texting him that your shift had ended. You were also busy talking with Jaehyun and felt it wouldn’t be polite for you to check on your phone while he was around.

But, as you connect your phone to your power bank, turning it on, and run your thumbs along the screen, you notice one thing: you didn’t send him anything.

“I’m—” A shiver runs down your spine. “I’m sure I texted you before—why—” You remember how your manager suddenly interrupted you when you were about to send the text. You must have forgotten to press send, and seeing how there are suddenly a lot of messages coming to your phone at once from him makes your heart drop to the floor.

I’ve made a reservation at Boccalino at 7 p.m. I know how you’ve always wanted to go there. Wear something nice.

Where are you now? Are you still at work? Do you want me to pick you up?

You’re probably busy at work. I’ll just see you at our table, okay? Don’t be late.

I haven’t heard from you. Where are you? I’m on my way to the restaurant to make sure our reservation is still on.

All my calls are going straight to voicemails. Where are you?

You’re an hour late. Where are you?!

You can feel the tremble in your fingertips as you hold your phone, your eyes running back and forth in horror. Haechan still doesn’t speak a word, focusing his eyes entirely on the road that lays in front of him.

“I’m… I’m sorry.” Even though you know you’re already so out of line and probably won’t be forgiven anytime soon, you still apologize because what else can you say? “I didn’t realize my phone was dead. And I was sure I’d texted you but—”

“It’s fine,” he says as he props his elbow against his window, rubbing the side of his temple with his fingertips. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

And with that, the conversation ends. Your thoughts are running fast, trying to come up with a better apology or find a way to patch things up but you can’t. The more plans you make, the more you hate yourself for being so stupid and ruin this whole thing for him. The drive back to your dorm is filled with nothing but silence, and you spend the entire time counting the street light that glows faintly on the side of the road.

You do notice something, though. Haechan’s phone keeps on making little sounds, notifying him that he’s receiving text messages and chats. There was also a phone call which he ignored even when the street light was red, only saying, “I’ll just call back later,” when you nervously ask him about it.

It’s when he walks you back to your dorm, that you begin to gain the courage to ask about it. “You’re getting awfully a lot of texts today.”

“They just want to congratulate me,” he says, tucking his hands in his pockets so you can’t take a hold of any of them as you walk beside him.

“On what?”

“My birthday.”

You wish the earth could just swallow you whole because how fucking ignorantly stupid can you be? It’s the sixth of June today, and you were so busy dealing with the fight and minding your own business that you forgot the birthday of the most important person in your life right now. You can feel how your legs almost give out under your weight, your head’s spinning.

And apparently, you’re doing it again, so lost in your own thoughts that Haechan has to say, “We’re here,” to snap you back to reality. You’re now standing gawkily in front of the door to your room, palms getting sweaty from how nervous you are. Haechan murmurs something about seeing you later and you’re about to burst into tears from how terrible you feel for him so you hastily grab him by his wrist, fingers almost sinking into his skin from how desperate you’re being.

“Stay with me,” you beg with quivers in your voice. “Please, just—I need to talk to you.”

Haechan stares at you with cold eyes, his jaw clenching slightly. But he doesn’t pull back his arm and follows your trail with heavy steps as you step inside your room. He closes the door behind him and leans his back against it, still not saying anything.

You’re so occupied with trying to form a coherent sentence that you forget to be thankful about how your roommate is away for the weekend again, providing you the opportunity to have the entire room for yourself. You decide to not make any excuses and apologize for every little dumb thing you’ve been doing for the whole day—no, for a whole week even, since the time your fight started. But no matter what you say, Haechan is staring at you with lifeless eyes, as if he’s just too tired to listen—as if he just no longer cares.

And that scares the life out of you.

“Hyuck, please,” you whisper, closing the distance between you until you can feel his warm breath caressing your cheek. You have your palm pressing against the side of his face, “Say something.” You know it’s not right, but you lean in for a kiss. It’s not just because you’re desperate to pull an emotion out of him; it’s more because you miss him so terribly so, it’s driving you crazy.

Haechan has his eyes closed by instinct but he doesn’t kiss back, only letting your lips linger on him, sharing his breath. And though it feels like there’s a javelin slowly sinking into your chest, you try again, kissing him with more passion, hooking your arm around his neck to pull him closer. Haechan tears himself away, his gaze turning dark as he stares at you and you look at him back with desperation in your eyes.

“Haecha—”

It’s like something snaps inside him and he suddenly no longer has control over his own free will, because Haechan is now pushing your body against the door, slamming your spine against the surface none too gently with his hands on each side of your head, lips chasing after yours. You let out a gasp, both from the shock and the pain that stings from the back of your head, and he takes the opportunity to kiss you deeper, tongue delving in to explore the inside of your mouth. His fingers trail down from your cheeks to your jaw, before they rest on the sides of your neck, his fingertips probing against your veins. You’re not sure whether he does it unconsciously from the sheer excitement or something else but the way his hand is holding you by the neck, his fingers low key choking you make your adrenaline runs faster.

He doesn’t give you the chance to process every single thing that’s happening, or even breathe, for that matter. The next thing you know, he already has his hands running down to your thighs, pulling them up so you have no other choice but to tangle your legs around his waist and groan when he presses your hips together. Hearing the sound of his name tumbling down your lips in a desperate, needy moan, Haechan groans at the back of his throat, his hands moving up to palm your breasts before they start to struggle with your shirt.

You’re doing the same thing, just as eager to get him out of his white shirt so you can latch your lips on his smooth sun-kissed skin. But unlike you who struggle to unbutton his shirt one by one, Haechan’s patience is wearing thin so he ends up just ripping your uniform, buttons clattering down to the floor.

“Wait, Hyuck—” You’re forced to swallow whatever it is you’re trying to say when Haechan sinks his teeth down to the skin that connects your neck to your shoulder, pushing the fabric of your shirt down to expose more of your bare skin. Your whole body shudders, clutching to him with every strength you have. It hurts, the way he bites and nibbles along your sensitive skin, but at the same time, it sends electricity down to every inch of your body.

“Do you have any idea how fucking pissed I am right now?” He says in a low, dangerous voice as he gnaws around your earlobe. “Turn around.”

With his nails sinking into your hips, he forces you to turn on your heel, pressing the side of your face against the door and tears your shirt away from your body. He doesn’t immediately take off your bra like he usually does, and instead focusing first on slipping his fingers underneath the band, thumbs glossing over your hardened nipples as he applies wet kisses on your nape. You almost let out a sob when his hand travels south, raking his fingers against your stomach before he takes off your skirt in such a hurry, leaving you in nothing but your black stockings and your laced panties.

Your entire body jolts when he slips a hand between your legs, rubbing you over your underwear before he suddenly pushes the fabric down and runs his fingertips along your folds.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he whispers in your ear, his breath fanning your neck. “I’m surprised you like being treated like this.” But when you cry out his name, begging for him to stop teasing you already, he chuckles lowly. “I should’ve done this sooner.”

You’re sure that you’re just reacting this way because it’s him and not anybody else and you want to tell him that but you can barely form a word with him rubbing his fingertips along your clit. “You’re actually quite dirty, aren’t you?” He brings two of his fingers to your lips, forcing you to suck them into your mouth and you oblige, knowing what he’s intending to do. You coat them with as much saliva as you can before he brings his hand down to your heat again, this time inserting one finger into your entrance with another one following soon after.

You hiss his name under your breath, becoming a little lightheaded from all this sensation you’re having at once. “What do you want me to do?” He asks tauntingly, knowing he’s in charge of everything.

“Fuck me,” you gasp, eyes tightly shut at the feeling of him finger fucking you to oblivion. “I want you inside me, Hyuck, fuck.”

“Maybe in a few minutes.” His teasing tone is back but it’s different. It’s almost menacing this time, somewhat heartless. He picks up the pace, pumping his fingers in and out of you until you find yourself biting your lip to contain your sob. “Do you know what I want?” He carves his words against your skin, taking a handful of your hair with his other free hand and yanking it back so you can’t help but face the ceiling. His lips are hovering dangerously close against your ear. “I want to fuck you raw. We’ve never done that before, have we? I want to come inside you—want to see my cum dripping down your thighs when I’m finished with you.”

Fuck. You almost cry from the temptation. “Then do it. I don’t care just—” You arch your back, sinking yourself down to his fingers, moaning against the side of his neck. “Please, just fuck me, Hyuck.”

“Good girl,” he replies and you can hear the smirk in his voice but you don’t care. He can be as cocky as he wants for the night because you secretly like it. You like how confident he is during sex, how passionate and sexy he can get, and how desperate and uncontrolled he becomes at the end. You can feel your stomach flip at the anticipation, especially when you hear him working on his belt, unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down only low enough for him to free himself.

“Let me fuck your mouth first,” he demands and you find yourself succumbing to his orders, turning around to face him before you drop to your knees, the tip of his cock protruding against your lips.

Haechan is still holding himself back, you’re sure, because he lets you take your own pace at first but his dominating persona comes back almost immediately when you only give him tentative licks against his slit. “Open up,” he orders, his fingers finding home in your hair and you loosen up your jaw to take him deeper.

Tears begin to form in the corner of your eyes from how hard he’s hitting the back of your throat but you try to keep up. He moves his hips, enjoying the warmth of your mouth. When you feel him twisting his fingers around the strands of your hair, you look up to see his expression. Haechan has his head thrown back in pleasure, his lips parted in a silent moan and you hum proudly to yourself when he brings his eyes down to meet yours. They’re glazed with lust and he’s so sexy like this with his breathing ragged, soft moans flowing like music to your ears. And he’s probably feeling the same about you, from the way he pushes the bangs out of your eyes, taking every detail of your face as you hollow your cheeks, swallowing when his taste falls upon your tongue.

“Fuck,” he hisses under his breath, “You look so perfect like this. You’re so fucking sexy, do you know that?” You hum, running your tongue along the prominent vein, giving kitten licks around the tip. Something gleams in his eyes and suddenly he commands you to stand up and pushes your body against the wall again, face first.

“Do you know how excited I was for today?” He grabs you by the waist, pushing his palm against your shoulder blades so you’ll bend lower, and positions himself against your entrance from behind. “I wanted to celebrate my birthday with you—just with you, Noona—even after our fight, I still wanted to spend it with you—”

“I know,” you gasp, thighs trembling when he rubs his tip against your folds. “I’m sorry—I was too busy with—“

“With work?” He taunts, “Or with that guy you’ve been seeing?”

“No—” A sudden yelp flows out of your mouth when he abruptly pushes himself entirely inside of you in one quick motion, his nails digging into the skin of your hips. Haechan moans a tad louder, much breathier, with his eyebrows knitted together in ecstasy. He’s more sensitive now since he’s not using a condom, directly feeling how wet and hot you are around him, how every clench makes him lose his mind and you can feel him twitching inside you. “Haechan—wait—”

He thrusts forward with such brute force, you find yourself pressed against the door. The dorm is quiet and with the way he’s slamming his hips against yours, the door making rhythmic banging noises against its frames, you’re sure you’re going to be noticed sooner or later.

“The bed—” You gasp, searching for the hands he has on your hips. “Let’s move to the bed—”

“Later,” he groans, his mind sinking in the way your heat is enveloping him.

“People can—” You have your eyes tightly shut when his thrusts get stronger. “They can hear us, Hyuck—”

He tangles his hand around your locks, making a messy ponytail out of them so he can yank on your hair as he rocks his hips faster. “I don’t fucking care,” he growls, “Let everyone know you’re mine.”

It feels fucking amazing the way he’s all breathless and rough, fucking you senselessly as if the world is ending, and it’s not long before your legs start to give up on you, quivering under the sensation.

“Fuck,” Haechan takes a sharp intake of breath, pulling you back against him when you’re about to fall. “Tired already, babe?” His chuckles are unfamiliar to your ears, as if he was mocking instead of teasing but you can’t really comment on it because he’s now pushing you down to the floor, forcing you to stay on all fours. “Now, now, what do we do?” He asks, spreading your thighs but holds your ass firmly in the air. “I’m just getting started.”

Every thrust of his hip feels like fire running all over your body and you can’t believe how good he is at hitting that particular spot deep inside you. You bite your lower lip to keep your voice down and Haechan notices it so he leans close, his chest pressing against your spine and you feel his lips and teeth caressing the crook of your neck as he speaks.

“Stop holding back your voice.” His voice sounds sultry, almost sinful to your ears. “I’ve told you before, right? I like hearing you say my name when we do this. Let me hear you moan.”

You shake your head. “I don’t want anyone to hear—“

“Well,” he doesn’t even let you finish. “I guess I’ll just have to force it out of you then.”

He slows down his pace, and instead of giving you fast, shallow thrusts, he focuses his strength on making each thrust hard and deep. You can feel your breathing being knocked out of your lungs, your toes curling in pleasure and if he keeps doing this, you know you’re not gonna last long. Your orgasm hits you so hard, a whimper falling from your mouth the way he likes it, and your body begins to shake.

Haechan laughs quietly against your ear. “You came, didn’t you? It feels so good—you feel so good around my cock.” He grabs you by the chin and roughly angles your head to face him. He kisses you hard, leaving you even more breathless than you already are before he says, “It’s my turn now.”

Haechan flips you to your back, spreading your legs wide as he sits on his knees, holding your ankles in the air like how he did the first time you had sex with him. Maybe it’s his favorite position, almost splitting your body in half, and seeing your face and your breasts bouncing up and down with every movement of his hips. You’re still dazed, reeling in the afterglow when Haechan pushes back into you again without warning, his eyes half-lidded in pleasure, his lips parted forming your name between his breathy moans.

“I’ll never get tired of how you look when I fuck you like this,” he says, smirking in the sexiest way you’ve ever seen him do. “You’re so goddamn irresistible, you know that?”

It’s frightening how different and rough he’s being right now, and you’re about to cry out because you miss him—you miss the way he used to be. The adorable, annoying little tease that he was. How can you bring him back?

“Haechannie,” you call out, voice soft and quiet almost in a whisper. “I love you.”

His movement stops almost immediately, his eyes widening in surprise. He locks his gaze back with yours, his grip on your legs becoming loose. “What?”

“I love you,” you repeat, placing your legs down so you can sit up from your position. Your back feels sore, screaming in pain but you try not to wince. You reach out to grab his face, running your thumb along his lower lip. “I love you, Lee Donghyuck.” You kiss him gently, merely pressing your lips against his and you can feel how his body stiffen under your touch. “So calm down, because I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always be with you, as long as you let me.”

Haechan is still very much speechless and you decide to take control. You carefully push him down so he can sit back on the floor before you climb into his lap. You kiss him again, tangling your fingers in his hair before you slide down, enveloping him once again. There’s a small moan escaping his lips, which you immediately capture with your own and his hands find their way back to your hips again.

“That’s not fair,” he says, his cheeks reddening slightly though he’s still scowling at you. “You’re just saying that so I won’t be angry with you anymore.”

“That too, but,” you’re interrupted by a moan that departs from your lips, can barely handle the way he twitches inside you. “I’ve been feeling that way for quite some time now. Especially when we fight. I just missed you so much, I couldn’t stand it.”

His pout is growing back on his face, though not as apparent. “Well, whose fault do you think is that?” It’s perfect, the way he moves inside you and it’s driving him crazy whenever you clench your walls around him.

“There’s nothing between me and Jaehyun, I promise you,” you softly murmur as you place open-mouthed kisses down his neck. “I’d never cheat on you, Hyuck. You know that, right?”

He shivers slightly under your touch, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “Still,” he breathes out, “It doesn’t mean I’m fine with you meeting him behind my back.”

“He’s my boss, I wouldn’t be able to avoid him even if I wanted—” You have to end your sentence short when he rubs his thumb against your clit, reeling in the sensation. “Hyuck, you’re going to make me come again at this rate.”

“Good, because I intend to make you come at least three times tonight.” He snickers against your lips. “So you won’t be able to forget who owns you.”

His movements become sloppy, going out of rhythm, even more desperate with each thrust and when you whisper with his earlobe between your teeth, “Happy birthday, baby,” he comes undone almost immediately with his face hiding between the slope of your neck.

He lays you down to the floor again, gently this time, before he hovers above you, his arms shaking slightly. “Holy shit,” he exhales, cheeks flushed and beads of sweat forming on his temple. “I think I came a lot inside you.”

“Glad I’m taking some pills then,” you reply, smiling a little as you cup his cheek, your thumb tracing the mole under his left eye. “You okay?”

“Are you okay?” He asks instead. “Was I too rough? Are you hurt somewhere?”

“Why is it that whenever we have sex, you end up asking me these questions?” You chuckle. “Yes, you were. And yes, I am hurt. My back is killing me.”

“I’m…” There’s a slight panic flitting across his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, it was kinda hot seeing you all riled up like that. It’s like you turned into a completely different person.” You pull him down by his necklace, murmuring against his lips, “I won’t mind if you fuck me like that again sometimes.”

It’s funny that after all of this that just happened, he actually blushes over your words. Quietly cursing under his breath, he leans back on his heels, slowly pulling out of you and stare intently at how his cum starts to seep out of you.

“Goddamn…” he mumbles, eyes unblinking as if he’s in a trance. “I really did come a lot inside you.”

“Consider that your birthday gift. Also, can you stop looking at me like that—it’s embarrassing.” You don’t usually get embarrassed about sexual stuff, especially now that your boyfriend’s shamelessness kind of rubs off on you, but Haechan really knows how to push your buttons.

Seeing you fidget out of shame, Haechan’s eyes twinkle, his lips forming a teasing grin. “No, wait, let me clean you up.” Despite what he says, he slowly pushes one finger into you, with another one following right after and you part your lips in a gasp but loss for words when you see him playing with his cum that’s mixed with yours, smearing it on the inside parts of your thigh.

“Haechannie,” you gasp, feeling his fingers inside you once again, with his thumb rubbing over your clit. “What are you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” He grins, showcasing his perfect teeth. “I’m going to make you come again. And then you’re going to make me come again.” His face hovers above yours, wetting his bottom lip as he stares lustfully at you. “Since it’s my birthday and you’re obliged to do whatever I want.”

You gulp. You’re going to be so sore tomorrow.

***

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storiesforallfandoms · 4 years ago

Text

kissing strangers ~ pete davidson

word count: 2522

request?: yes!

“Can you do a story where the reader is at New Year's Eve and she wants to kiss someone and she kisses a random man she finds out it's Pete Davidson after?”

description: in which she’s single for the first time in years and decides to kiss the first person she sees at midnight on new year’s eve

pairing: pete davidson x female!reader

warnings: swearing, alcohol usage

masterlist (one, two)

Why did I think this would be a good idea? you thought to yourself as you looked around at your fellow partygoers.

Your best friend had convinced you to come to a New Year’s Eve party thrown by someone you didn’t even know. Your boyfriend of five years had broken up with you just a few days before (between Christmas and New Years, perfect timing), and all you wanted to do was lay in bed and cry. Your friend, however, wanted to get you out of the house, even if it was just for one night.

“I’ll be by your side all night,” she had promised. “I won’t leave you alone at all.”

That lasted all of ten minutes.

The moment you walked through the door, the host of the party whisked your friend away. She called over her shoulder that she would come find you soon. That was roughly three hours ago and you were still stood in a corner all by yourself, watching your fellow partygoers having a much better time than you.

There were too many couples sitting or dancing together, grinding or making out. They were all basically one step away from fucking right there in front of everyone. If it wasn’t couples, it was single people attempting to hook up with anything that moved.

Being what felt like the only single person in the room made you regret coming. You found yourself even becoming angry at this thought and wanting to leave. But you were already two drinks deep and you were sure your friend was more than shitfaced at this rate. So, instead of leaving or sitting there and continuing to feel angry, you decided to follow her lead and get completely obliterated.

You down your next two drinks in quick succession, and did a few shots with a group of very drunk people that were in the kitchen when you went for your third. By the time you had gotten halfway through your third drink, you could barley see straight and your stomach was starting to churn.

You went outside for some fresh air, nearly sighing with relief when the cold air hit your face. You hadn’t realized how stuffy it had gotten inside until that moment.

You were leaning on the railing of the balcony, two couples standing on either side of you, already getting started on their midnight kissing. You cringed at the very public displays of affection, but also secretly wished you were still with your ex to do the same thing.

Who breaks up with someone before New Year’s? you thought to yourself. Especially so close after Christmas? The greedy fucker probably only wanted his Christmas gifts then to kick you to the curb.

Your anger started to rise at this, and just in time for someone to announce that there was only 30 seconds left of the year. Everyone raced outside, either onto the balcony where you were or into the yard below, to start the countdown to the new year. As they began to chant from 10, you noticed almost everyone around you had someone for their midnight kiss. Everyone except for you.

A combination of your anger and drunkenness caused you to make a decision you never would’ve made if you were sober.

“Five, four, three, two, one!”

Without thinking, you turned to the person closest to you that wasn’t already attached to another girl, and pulled him in for a kiss as the fireworks lit up the sky around you. Your poor victim seemed shocked at first, going completely tense as your lips met his. The somewhat sober part of your brain was screaming at you for your stupid decision (You don’t even know who this guys is! What if he’s some creeper or he has herpes or something?!), but you were too faded to really care at that point.

His hands found your waist and he pulled you to him, pressing his body as close to yours as he possibly could. Your hands gripped at the soft material of the shirt he was wearing, slipping under for just a moment to feel his warm skin against your cold hands.

Before either of you could go further, though, your stomach lurched and you quickly pulled away from him. You had gotten just a glance of what he looked like before you went running back into the house and to the nearest bathroom.

After hogging the bathroom for upwards of 20 minutes, you finally stopped throwing up and were able to get up from your place beside the toilet. You splashed your face with some cold water and decided your best course of action was to get some water, find your friend, and leave as soon as possible.

The first stage was very easy to fulfil, however the party was so jam packed with people, and the lights were so dim, that it was hard to tell where your friend could’ve gone. You were starting to wonder if maybe she ditched you for the host of the party, or for some guy she had picked up along the way. Neither would’ve surprised you all that much.

You decided to take your water and sit outside the front door to see if she would leave any time soon. If you didn’t see her within the next hour, you decided you’d just walk home on your own.

You were finishing the contents of your cup when someone sat next to you. He was a tall guy, around your age, with messy black hair and brown eyes so deep you felt like you could get lost in them. You almost had to chastise yourself for thinking of him in this way so soon after your heartbreak, but you had to admit that he was a very attractive man.

“I hope my kissing wasn’t that bad that you had to go vomit,” he said.

It took you a moment to realize what he was talking about, and when you did you cringed. “Fuck, that was you?” He nodded, a slight grin on his face. “Oh my God, I am so sorry. That was so wrong of me, I hope I didn’t ruin your night or anything?”

“Again, only the thought that you threw up because you kissed me would have ruined my night,” he responded. “Trust me, I will not complain about a beautiful woman randomly kissing me during a party.”

You blushed at his compliment and looked down at your cup, hoping he wouldn’t see.

“I didn’t throw up because of the kiss,” you assured him. “I just had too much to drink way too quickly and it all caught up to me at once.”

“Sounds like normal New Year’s Eve party behavior.”

You shook your head. “Not for me. I don’t usually drink. I kinda went overboard tonight because...” You trailed off, looking up at your still unknown midnight kiss. “Sorry, you don’t wanna hear this. We don’t even really know each other.”

“Well, we can fix that. I’m Pete, and you are?”

“(Y/N).”

“Nice to properly meet you, (Y/N).” You giggled and shook the hand he offered to you. “Now, tell me, what has you so troubled that you got shitfaced, kissed a stranger, then threw up? And now has you sat out here all by yourself.”

You sighed and looked down at your lap. “My um...my boyfriend of five years broke up with me a few days ago. My friend dragged me to this party to get me out of the house, but she immediately ditched me, and watching all these couples being lovey dovey with one another, or horny drunks trying to hook up, just sort of set me off. I decided to get absolutely drunk, and at midnight I was drunk and angry so...I kissed the nearest single person.”

“Which was me,” Pete finished.

“Which was you,” you confirmed. “At least, I hope you’re single. If you have a girlfriend already I am very sorry.”

Pete chuckled. “Don’t be sorry. I am very much single. I don’t think a girl has even looked at me that way in months. That I know of, anyways.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, happy to know that you hadn’t drunkenly made the moved on a man who was already taken.

“And, if I might add,” Pete continued, “I know that I literally know nothing about you besides your name, but your ex is definitely an idiot. Five years and he decides to end it? Not even put a ring on it? That’s shitty, and stupid. If I were your boyfriend, I’d put a ring on it within a few months.”

You giggled and shook your head. “You don’t mean that. You don’t even know me.”

“I don’t, but I know your kissing is so good that I’d never let it go.”

Your face heated up with blush again. This time, Pete caught it and smiled back at you.

The door opened behind the two of you and you looked over your shoulder, hoping to finally see your friend again. When a group of drunk girls walked out instead, narrowly avoiding kicking the two of you or tripping over you, you sighed and rolled your eyes to yourself.

“I know, drunk girls, right?” Pete joked, thinking your reaction was to the girls who were now walking away.

“That wasn’t meant for them,” you told him. “It was meant for the friend I came here with. I spent who knows how long trying to find her after I threw up so we could go, or at least so I could tell her I’m leaving, but there’s no sign of her anywhere. I’m just annoyed that she ditched me when she told me she wouldn’t.”

“That’s fucked up,” Pete agreed. “Listen, this may be a bit forward since we only just met, and I understand if the answer is no, but I haven’t been drinking tonight. If you want to go home, I can drive you home. Fuck your friend, leave her here to get home on her own. I think you have more than a good enough reason for that.”

While part of your mind was screaming at you to not get into a car with this man that you didn’t know, the other part was reminding you of your stomach, which was still not feeling the best, and the heartbreak that led you to coming to the party and meeting Pete in the first place. You just wanted to be home and, at this rate, you’d take any offer to get home.

“Yes please,” you responded. “That’d be fantastic.”

Pete smiled and stood. He offered you his hand and pulled you to your feet. You stumbled slightly, falling into him. He quickly wrapped an arm around your waist to steady you. You looked down into his eyes and felt your legs turn to jelly (although, that also could’ve been thanks to the alcohol still in your system).

“Can you walk?” Pete teased.

“I can,” you confirmed, pulling from his embrace and slowly walking down the two small stairs. He laughed at your attempt to seem sober and led you to his car.

The minute he turned on the heat, you were blasted with hot air against your face. He quickly reached to turn it off, but you caught his hand before he could. “Leave it on, please. It was way too cold outside for me to just be sat around in jeans and a t-shirt.”

Pete chuckled and agreed.

As he started driving, you rested your head against the window, a weird sensation of the cold glass mixed with the hot air surrounding you. The world outside passed in a blur and you could barley focus on it too much as it was hurting your eyes and your head. You ended up closing your eyes for a while and, before you know it, Pete was waking you up outside of your apartment.

“I’m gonna help you to the door,” he decided. “Just to make sure you don’t pass out or anything on the way there.”

You wanted to protest, but you knew that was a smart idea. You were suddenly feeling very tired and could already feel the effects of the hangover you’d have in the morning.

Pete helped you out of the car and walked you to your door, one hand around your waist as he did so. His touch was warm and you just wanted to stay there forever.

You got to the door and unlocked it. You stepped in and turned to Pete, almost expecting him to be following you inside. Instead, he stayed just outside the door, leaning against the doorframe.

“Well, m’lady, you have made it home safe and sound,” he said. “Make sure you keep an Aspirin by your bedside table for your hangover tomorrow, and drink a lot of water.”

“I will,” you told him. “Thanks again for all of this, Pete. It means a lot to me that you’d drive me home.”

“Anything for my midnight kiss.”

You giggled at this. You both stood in silence for some time. You didn’t want Pete to go. Although you were still feeling an ache in your heart, you could also feel something else for Pete. Something that went beyond two strangers kissing at midnight, or a potential rebound with him. You felt like, once you got to know him, you might have some real feelings for him.

“I feel like it’s my duty to make sure you’re not completely miserable tomorrow when you wake up,” he said suddenly. “So, I hope it’s not too forward if I ask you for your number. Just so I can check on you tomorrow, of course.”

You smiled brightly. “Of course. Give me a second.”

You grabbed a pen and a sticky note and wrote your number down. As you passed it to him, his smile mirrored your own. He looked down at the number for a long time before looking back up at you.

“This is a real one, right? I’m not gonna call a Chinese place by accident tomorrow?”

You laughed. “Yes, it’s my number. You gotta have some faith in people, Pete.”

He nodded. “You’re right. I do. One last question before I go: do you think we could try that midnight kiss again? You know, without you running away to vomit afterwards.”

“I can’t promise I won’t vomit, but I’d love to try the kiss again.”

Pete smiled and almost immediately took you into his arms. Your lips pressed against his and you could almost hear the fireworks that had been lighting up the sky during your first kiss. Except, this time, there were no actual fireworks. It was just the feeling that came from kissing Pete.

He pulled away from the kiss first, literally having to drag himself away from you. “Goodnight (Y/N).”

“Goodnight Pete.”

You closed and locked the door behind him, watching him walk back to his car and start it before silently celebrating to yourself.

I guess tonight didn’t turn out so bad after all.

#pete davidson #pete davidson imagine #pete davidson x reader #imagine #one shot #request #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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wizkiddx · 4 years ago

Note

I would for sure read a continuation of the birth photographer fic if you feel comfortable writing it/have time! Xx

a/n sorry I kinda combined these two together, I hope this is okay!! sorry ive taken so long too!! my requests are still open, just going a bit slowly :)

summary: literally just birth + harry

dad!tom x reader

warnings: childbirth, mentions of fainting, squint for suggestiveness too

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Your doing so good darling, just keep breathin’ like that for me, in-out-in-out”

That had pretty much been the soundtrack to your last 3 hours. And yes it was MORE annoying than it sounds. Of course, that’s also ignoring the insane amount of pain your uterus was putting you through - as it spasmed while the little bug in there was wriggling away. Giving birth was not easy but giving birth with a husband-turned-midwife wittering away in your ear? Un-fucking-bearable.

“Tom…. I love you but..” Everything had really been starting to ramp up in the last half an hour, you were a panting sweaty mess now. “Please… SHUT THE FUCK UP” Tom would’ve recoiled completely away from the bed because of your tone, if it wasn’t for the absolute death grip you had his right hand in. Instead, Tom settled for straightening straight up and staring helplessly and dejectedly across the room at his brother - who of course was trying to hold back laughter, knowing it would be very easy for you to switch your target to him.

Clearly it wasn’t a social call to the hospital, Harry was here under the premise of taking photos when the baby arrives for Tom; but really to stop his brother from having his own breakdown - as commissioned by you. Lets just say, however scared and mortified Harry was of this ‘event’ he was taking a lot of enjoyment from how his brother was acting currently.

“It’s okay sir, if you were pushing a watermelon out of hole that normally was the size of a whiteboard marker, I’m sure you’d be a bit tetchy too.” That lady was your favourite midwife and in a lull between the sets of contractions, you actually managed a laugh. Wide-eyed, Tom just nodded jerkily, murmuring some sort of agreement. It was at this point a flash of light reverberated around the whole room, causing you to breathlessly laugh, Harry’s face informing you the picture he just got of Tom was priceless.

The laughter didn’t last long though, the next contraction had you bearing down on the bed, face contorted in pain as you sucked desperately on the gas and air tube.

“Okay Y/n I think we might be getting there, let me call the senior midwifes in okay?” The midwife had your legs hiked apart, a blanket attempting to cover your modesty - but at this point she was basically sticking her face in your noon. Modesty was out the window.

“Already?” Tom was shocked to say the least, from all his reading and research he’d learnt that the average labour time was more like 5 hours. Lets just say, Tom never exceled in school, never much enjoyed reading - which made the hours of highlighting baby books and pregnancy leaflets all the more extraordinary.

“Babies don’t stick to the script sir.” You could tell she was proud of the pun there, because you know, Tom’s a moviestar. “Professional improvisers, the lot of them.”

The cream walls of the hospital room very quickly filled with more and more people - Harry staying like a fly on the wall, now nervously biting his nails as he watched an obscene amount of medical people all take their turn oggling his sister-in-law’s bits. This was a weird ass situation.

Almost immediately it was at the point the midwifes were telling you to push, which after 9 months of holding a baby in (as well as your ill functioning bladder) sounded like an absolute dream. But it was also absolutely terrifying and exciting and horrifying all wrapped in one. Naturally then, after nodding hesitantly at the midwife between your legs, you’d craned your neck across to tom .You might’ve just told him off, for trying to encourage you, but now? You needed his encouragement.

What met you though, was his face completely drained of colour, mouth hanging slightly open as he hadn’t moved - still staring intently at the midwife. She followed your gaze, only taking half a second to survey the situation before knowingly smiling.

“Can we get a bit of help for dad please?” Immediately one of the more junior looking midwives was directing (pushing) Tom into the chair next to the floor. Suddenly actually concerned, you looked with wide eyes to the lady between your legs, who you felt bad for not remembering her name. With a comforting squeeze of your ankle she reassured you he’d be right as rain after a few moments of having his head between his knees. Also sensing you needed your support, she arched up, beckoning over to Harry who had an equally bemused look on his face.

“No - I-um I’m not.” His squeaking protests were interrupted by a large scream on your part, as another contraction tore through your body. Helplessly Harry glanced between Tom, who was still hunched over on a chair with a nurse squatted infront of him; and you, writhing around on the mechanical bed. He didn’t hesitate then, in jumping right to your side, allowing you to start crushing all the bones in his hand too.

And then it was all happening, a blur of activity and screams. It didnt take long for Tom to pull himself together and then you were flanked on both sides by Holland boys - both giving cheesy encouraging words (which you would’ve again told them to shut the fuck up for, if you’d been able to), Tom also stroking the top of your head. He found it pretty impossible, watching the woman that he loved go through such immense pain - especially when he was technically half the cause. Well… actually more that that, it had been him who had been… well shall we say *needy* those nine months ago.

“Okay Y/n the heads crowning, I know you’re tired but we need a few more big pushes, can you do that for me?”

Merely 5 minutes later and the most beautiful sound in the world echoed through the 4 creams walls. You were absolutely spent, eyes closed as you panted, knowing tears were flooding down your face too. Immediately though, familiar hands cupped both sides of your face, a forehead resting on yours.

“You did it Y/n/n.” His eyes were glassy, watering and red and the way he scoffed a smile in disbelief had you mirroring him exactly.

“We did it.” Your voice was hoarse and scratchy from all the yells of pain but it didnt matter. The midwife calling you by the name ‘mum and dad’ got both of your attention, a title you’d no doubt start getting used to.

“Meet your beautiful baby girl.” Another choked sob escaped your throat, as this little roughly wrapped up pink alien looking thing was placed onto your chest. Both you and Tom just gazed at her, completely transfixed at the way she wriggled her head slightly, nuzzling into your chest. Tom gently hovered his palm against her little head, while you pressed down the blanket gently, just so you could see all her features.

Then a flash echoed around the otherwise silent room, making you all look up to Harry who was gritting his teeth in apology. “Do mum and dad want to smile for the camera?” The question was posed so hesitantly and quietly, really it wasn’t funny either. That didn’t stop you and Tom both pulling out the biggest grins and chuckling away, allowing Harry to capture the perfect moment. Being referred to as mum and dad - it was bloody comical.

“You gonna tell me her name now?” You looked from Harry to Tom, nodding in approval for him to spill the beans.

“Amber. She’s Amber.”

You’d squabbled for months before ending on Amber. It had been a long relentless process, Tom claiming that your baby might just have ended up as ‘as yet untitled’ which you and your hormonal state had stormed out at. It hadn’t taken much to forgive it though, Tom had long since worked out that Ben and Jerrys was the way to your heart.

The nurses took Amber back to do some tests, properly cleaning both you and her up and after that everything was weirdly calm. Harry had left to give the twothree of you a moment alone and Tom was about to do his turn of skin to skin.

“This really is it isn’t it?” He murmured, whilst carefully scooping Amber from your arms.

“Mhmmm… your stuck with two girls who’ll go psycho on you without a moments notice.” He seemed to accept it though, just nodding in response.

“And I still can’t bloody wait.” His eyes penetrating deep into you, had you blushing like a nervous teenage girl. “ ‘m still so proud of you, you grew this little human.”

“Your not allowed to call her little because you didnt have the ‘little’ thing rip your insides apart.”

“Hey! I’m upset about it too! Was like I had to watch my favourite pub being burnt down.” Of course, trust Tom to make a dirty joke at a time like this.

“Don’t kid yourself, you weren’t watching, too busy fainting.”

“I didn’t actually faint!” This time he protested a bit too loudly, causing Amber to mewl a little and bury her head into the crook of her Dads arm. “I think Ambers just told you to shut it too.”

“You annoy the hell out of…” Your grumbling was interrupted by an impressive, ear-splitting yawn. “ You annoy the hell out of me.”

“But you love me?” He sing-songed, now back to a hushed tone.

“I hope so, otherwise we’re in a bit of trouble.” He scoffed, but nodded his head, taking the hand that wasn’t cradling Amber to tuck some sweaty, knotted strands of hair behind your ear.

“I do owe Harry though, he was at least able to stay on his feet.”

“He was a better birthing partner than you too, much much less condescending and annoying.” You sniggered, making Tom pout once again, only wiping the look off his face when you yawned again, rubbing an your eye like a toddler would.

“If your done insulting me… get some rest love, I got you.” All you did was nod, with a small groan (because below your waist still hurt like a bitch) rolled over so you could fall asleep to sight of the two of them.

“Got you both, my two beautiful girls.”

hope you enjoyed, would love to hear any thoughts <3

taglist: @hollandfanficlove @hallecarey1

#tom holland x reader #tom holland #tom holland fluff #Tom Holland blurb #dad!tom #tom holland imagine #harry holland

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sugarmaplewings-fics · 4 years ago

Text

Touch Starved

Pairing: Bakugou x reader

Warnings: Cursing, sfw fwb dynamic (lmao it’s secret hugging)

A/N:

*heavy breathing* I finally finished it!! I’ve had this request sitting in my inbox for literal months and I’m so sorry, anon, that you had to wait so long 😫. I hope you like what I came up with!

Also I ended up using she/her pronouns a bit towards the end, so if you’d like me to edit it so it has they/them I can repost it! Just let me know :)

-Sugar

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● Bakugou's never been much for physical affection

● Or, at least, so he'd convinced himself

● Even around his family, he found himself shrinking back from hugs

● And anytime one of his friends would try to put an arm around him or pat him on the back, he'd flinch and tense up (Kirishima and Kaminari had a few special privileges, but even they were on thin fucking ice)

● A part of him craved that touch, wished it could last longer

● But his ego always got in the way

● From a young age, he'd viewed acts like this as showing weakness and vulnerability. It's no surprise that by the time he arrives at UA, the longing is a mostly ignorable dull throb

● Until he got to know you

● You were one of the most sickeningly sweet people Bakugou had ever seen, and he despised you

● You were just as bad as that Shitty Hair, if not worse; always grinning and trying to include everyone, even him

● He hated how his eyes seemed to have a mind of their own around you, never letting you leave their gaze when you were around him. He hated how your laugh made his cheeks heat up and his heart pound in his chest. And most of all, he hated when the tips of your fingers would brush against his arm, or when you tried to lean on his shoulder. You truly were the most intolerable of beings

● And it seems like you're even worse today

● Class was about to start and you were talking with Ashido, Kirishima, and Kaminari

● He honestly wasn't even paying attention to the conversation, that is, until he heard his name mentioned

● His red eyes flicked to you, since it had been your voice he'd heard say his name

● You had definitely been trying to get his attention. Now your gaze was directed at him

● "I've never seen you hug anyone, Bakugou," you said, your head tilted slightly as you addressed him

● "The hell does that have to do with anything?" he grumbled, already getting annoyed at the topic of conversation

● "Well, I read the other day that hugs can make you happier! And you always seem so grumpy all the time, so I was wondering if you just needed more hugs."

● You seemed oblivious to the way your classmates were staring at you. Even Bakugou couldn't bring himself to speak, merely glaring at you with a confused, almost offended expression

● Panicking at his lack of response, you bent down and threw your arms around his shoulders. You thought you heard a gasp from one or two of your classmates behind you

● Bakugou seemed to have no reaction other than mild shock. He just froze there, neither pushing you off nor reciprocating

● The whole thing was over within a few seconds, but it felt as though it had actually lasted much, much longer. Seconds after you pulled away, the bell rang for class to start, and everyone had to go back to their seats

● There was an abnormal silence in the class after that. It was as if nearly every student was thinking, Holy crap, (L/N) just hugged Bakugou freaking Katsuki

● Bakugou was weirdly silent too. It seemed as if he hadn't had any reaction at all

● Sike—it was pure chaos inside his head

● He's just been pounded with a whole slew of new feelings and emotions—give the boy a break (and a minute to process)

● He can scarcely pay attention during class (which he can afford to do, it's not like he doesn't already know most of this stuff)

● Katsuki can't tell if he hated it or not

● His immediate instinct is to reject it and say it was awful . . . but he can't deny that there's a teeny tiny part of his brain that wants you to do it again

● No one can ever know this, of course. He has a reputation to maintain, after all

● But in the safety of his own mind, he replays it over and over, trying to remember every detail of how your arms had felt around him for that brief moment

● Boy was hooked on you even more than he had been before

● But it's not like anyone can tell. Bakugou's good at that. No one would ever be able to tell he had any feelings towards the incident at all, negative or positive

● Even after his friends bombard him with questions after class, he gruffly brushes them all off. He acts so uninterestingly about it, they don't even bother asking him about it again

● Bakugou hopes that this will all blow over within the next few days. He'd surely stop thinking about you all the time, right? Maybe somehow, if he ignored these thoughts, his eyes wouldn't trail after you on their own accord, and his mind wouldn't jump at every opportunity to think about you

● For weeks, he told himself this, and time passed to nearly two months. He avoided you at all costs, refusing to speak to you or even make eye contact

● You felt horrible, blaming it on the dumb mistake you'd made to hug him that morning. No matter how hard you tried to approach him to apologize, he'd turn you away, and soon enough, you'd given up

● Until one night, he couldn't take it anymore

● He had just been fantasizing about that moment again, and tentatively wondering how it would feel to put his arms around you while he was out in the dorm hallway

● Even through the haze of his thoughts, he was quick to notice your head of hair about to turn into the hallway to your room

● You. Bubbly, bright, overly touchy and friendly you. Fuck you.

● You were always hugging everyone, right? You didn't really mean anything by it, right? It was no big deal when you hugged other people. So, maybe if he were to just ask . . .

● "Oi."

● You froze in your tracks. You'd caught sight of him in the hall, but you knew better than to try to attract his attention. He was dead set on avoiding you, and you'd pretty much accepted that by now

● Turning, you met his fiery red eyes for the first time in weeks. "Yeah?"

● There was something . . . apprehensive in his expression. You weren't sure if you'd ever seen anything like it on his face before

● "Get over here, I want to ask you something." He shoved his hands in his pockets, shifting his glare to the carpet below him

● Uncertain of what might be going on, you cautiously made your way to him

● "What is it?" you asked, a little annoyed with how he'd been treating you lately

● "I, um, well—remember that thing you did a while ago?"

● You blinked at him, slowly. "I do a lot of things. You need to be more specific."

● You'd never seen him look so flustered. It was almost . . . cute

● "You—um, you hugged me. Remember?"

● Of course you remembered. That was what had made him hate you in the first place, right?

● You sighed and crossed your arms. "Look, I'm sorry I did that. I know it made you uncomfortable and I'm sorry it affected you so much. Really, I was just goofing around, and I'm sorry it got out of hand."

● He blinked at you. You were apologizing? Oh, maybe it did make sense, now that he thought about it. He had been being an ass to you

● "Is that what you wanted?" you asked. "I tried to apologize a long time ago but you wouldn't even look at me—"

● "Could you do it again?" he cut you off

● ". . . apologize?"

● "What?! No!" Bakugou's face reddened and he scanned the surroundings for a potential audience. He dropped his voice to a scarcely audible mumble. "I . . . —dammit, I want you to hug me again."

● You blinked at him, this time in surprise. You had, in fact, heard him, but you could barely believe it. You only knew that you'd understood him correctly by his posture, and how uncharacteristically flustered he was

● "You want another hug?"

● He scowled. "Don't make me say it twice."

● "So you liked it the first time?"

● "I never said that!"

● "Uh-huh."

● Even with your annoyed teasing, you felt as if you might be able to understand a little. Everything seemed to make more sense to you, and you were beginning to catch onto the bigger picture. He'd been embarrassed that he liked it, and that was why he'd been avoiding you

● "So do you want a hug now or—?"

● "Not where anyone could see!" Bakugou's eyes nervously darted around again. "We could . . . go in my room or something." His voice had dropped back to a mumble

● You snorted and rolled your eyes. "Secret hugs, huh? I didn't know I was in such high demand."

● "Shut up, dumbass. Just follow me."

● You do that, letting him lead you into his room. After he shuts the door behind you, you stand there awkwardly for a second

● "So . . . you just wanted a hug?"

● He shrugged. "Yeah."

● You closed the distance between you and took him into your arms

● He stiffened a little at the contact, heart pounding away in his chest. It was even better than he had remembered, and now he noticed even more things; like the way your chest felt pressed against his body, and how your hair smelled like shampoo, and—

● "Relax, idiot," you whispered beside his ear. Bakugou tried to let out some of the tension in his shoulders and even tried looping his own arms around you

● You snickered internally, until a thought struck you

● When you finally pulled away, you looked at him inquisitively. "When was the last time you hugged someone?" you asked. "Other than me."

● He frowned, still a little flustered. Then he shrugged. "I don't know. It's probably been a few years."

● You couldn't help but feel your heart pang a little bit for the boy. You knew how he felt about interacting with people. You'd seen how adverse he'd seemed towards physical interaction, even among his friends

●Touch starved, you thought. It was an awful thing to experience. Bakugou probably wasn't even aware of what he was missing

● You sighed. "We can do this again if you want," you offered, wondering if the proposition would set him off to ignore you again. "I won't tell anyone."

● "Better not," he muttered under his breath

● "Do you want me to come back or not?" you asked

● He shrugged. "S'whatever. Do whatever."

● You frowned right back at him. "Yes. Or no?"

● "Yes! Yes, come over here and hug me or whatever shit! Just—just leave now."

● You rolled your eyes at him, turning and twisting the doorknob. "Just ask when you're ready," you said before walking out of his room again

● Bakugou stared at the door for a long time after you'd left

● His chest felt like it had little explosions going off in it, and he couldn't help but feel ridiculously giddy

● What was he doing? But it had felt . . . amazing. And you'd offered to do it again, whenever he asked . . . .

● . . . You proved to stand by your word

● Sure enough, he'd catch you alone every few days and sneak off to his room for a quick hug. In return, he'd help you go over your notes for class

● Before long, you couldn't help but feel closer to Bakugou. Even with his harsh nature, you noticed how he could really be. Coupled with the moments of vulnerability he'd let you in on while you hugged in secret, your liking for the boy only grew

● And it did seem to have some effect on his mood. He wasn't so easily set off, and he yelled a bit less. Your fellow classmates didn't bring up the change, but they had certainly noticed it

● Even though no one was allowed to know about your shared moments together, Kirishima would often join you for a study session

● During those days, you'd wait until he left before going in to give Bakugou his hug

● Until the inevitable happened

● It was just you and Bakugou in his room. You'd gotten all your stuff packed up for the night and you were giving him one last hug

● He'd gotten better at it over the past couple of weeks, and he'd learned to relax more into your hold

● Of course, that was right when Kirishima came back in

● "Sorry, dude, I left my—" He froze at the sight before him

● Bakugou jumped back from you, trying to look as though it wasn't obvious what he'd just been doing

● "Sorry, guys!" he said, hovering in the doorway for a moment as he debated whether or not to grab whatever he'd forgotten before dashing back out. Ultimately he decided to go emptyhanded, slamming the door shut as he whisked back into his room

● You looked at Bakugou, trying to gauge how he'd taken this turn of events. He looked angry and flustered (a look on him you were starting to get used to), but he definitely could have looked more outraged

● You patted his back. "Are you okay?"

● The blond seemed speechless for once, unable to take his eyes off the door

● "It's just Kirishima," you assured him. "He'd get it. He's understanding."

● Bakugou wasn't so sure

● A few minutes after you left, there was another knock at Bakugou's door

● "What the hell do you want?"

● Kirishima poked his head in, making sure the coast was clear. "I just wanted my notebook back."

● Bakugou picked it up from his desk and launched it at Kirishima's head, which he barely managed to catch

● "Thanks, man." Even with his originally sought after item, the redhead proceeded to step into his friend's room. "So what's going on with you and (L/N)?"

● There it was, the question Bakugou knew was coming

● "Nothing." At least it wasn't a complete lie

● "No, you two were doing something," Kirishima smirked. "Are you dating in secret or something?"

● "What?! No! It's not like that! And besides, it's none of your fucking business."

● Kirishima shrugged. "That's fair. But if you're not dating, why was she hugging you?"

● Bakugou tched. "She hugs everyone, you know her."

● "Yeah, but you were hugging her back."

● "She just gives really nice hugs!"

● Kirishima pouted. "You never hug me."

● "That's because it's different!"

● "So does that mean you like her or something?"

● Bakugou froze for just a split second too long. "No."

● Kirishima gave him a look. "She might like you back. Just ask her out on a date."

● "I already said it wasn't like that—"

● Bakugou's friend shrugged. "Well, if it was . . . couldn't hurt to try."

● Once Kirishima was successfully kicked from Bakugou's room, he took a moment to think. Could he actually . . . like you? Maybe that would explain some of the things that he'd been feeling lately

● But what about you? Could you like him back?

● Bakugou rolled his shoulders. Of course you'd like him, what part of him wasn't perfect? But still . . . .

● One night a few days later, you were alone with Bakugou again in his room, doing homework together

● You couldn't help but notice that his vibe seemed off, and it looked like he was having trouble concentrating

● "Are you alright?" you finally asked him

● "Yeah," he snapped

● "You seem stressed," you commented.

● "I'm not fucking stressed," he said, refusing to meet your eyes as he glared at his notebook in front of him

● "Okay, then," you muttered, rolling your eyes to yourself and attempting to go back to your own notes

● You watched Bakugou fidget from the corner of your eye, but decided not to pay it any mind anymore. It wasn't long before you noticed that he hadn't turned a page in his book for the past several minutes

● Bakugou was, of course, internally raging

● Why couldn't he ask you a simple question? Did he even know what kind of question he wanted to ask, though?

●Go out on a date with me— too forward, it didn't sound right to him in his head

●For some reason, I think I might like you— no again, that wasn't right either

● His mind rolled over various phrasings, trying to figure out how to put his feelings to words. How was he supposed to do that?

● How could he iterate this weird burning mess he felt clawing in his chest every time he looked at you and touched you? How could he say that he wanted more than what you were doing? How was he supposed to get the reaction out of you that he wanted?

●Be fearless, he told himself. He'd faced worse than this before. He'd been through situations where his life had literally been on the line. How come you, of all people, made him feel more frightened than ever before? Why did he care about your opinion of him so goddamn much??

● He had to start somewhere. Maybe once he got going it would be easier

● "Oi," he said, straining to keep his voice steady and nonchalant as you looked up at his averted eyes

● "Yeah?"

● "I was . . . I was wondering if maybe you wanted to . . . study somewhere else sometime."

● You blinked at him. "Like . . . where?"

● He shrugged, just a bit too jerkily. "I don't know. There's this café a few blocks from campus."

● You squinted at him. "What's wrong with staying here?"

● He scowled, his eyes finally darting up to meet yours before dipping back down again. "I just wondered if we could maybe—do something together. Something a little different."

● A hint of realization dawned on you, causing a smile to alight on your lips and your eyebrow to quirk up. "Different like—a date? Are you asking me out on a date with you?"

● He shrugged again in the same manner, still scowling as he muttered, "Only if you want it to be."

● You considered for a moment. He was a decent enough guy. If you were being completely honest with yourself, you might say you'd developed a bit of a crush on him, actually. You'd never paid too much attention to it before, but now that he was asking . . . it couldn't hurt to try

● "Of course I'll go out with you," you said, breaking into an easy smile that Bakugou still wasn't certain if he adored or hated

● He immediately relaxed, a small smile of his own appearing on his face at your agreement

● He was glad it was you. You were the only person he felt comfortable being vulnerable around. He could already tell that he was growing to like you more and more with each passing day, and he could only hope that you felt the same

● You put up with him, and you were strong in your own way, and by goodness, he was beginning to fall for you so hard

● And maybe, if you agreed for him to be your boyfriend, you'd let him cuddle with you. It wouldn't be awkward, because that's what couples did. You'd be his and he'd be yours, and he wouldn't have to bottle up these annoying feelings anymore

● But that would be decided at some later time

● Even so, he couldn't wait for that day to come

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Taglist: @basicaegyo @fourteenow @iiminibattlehero @katsugay @nabo39 @pyrofanatic @sendhelpimstupid @xoxopam4

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou bnha #bakugou imagine #katsuki bakugou imagine #bakugou katsuki imagine #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #reader insert #request fulfilled!#sugar fics

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luxwritesfanfic · 4 years ago

Text

Right Where You Left Me

Reader gets déjà vu in a way she never expected. Or, the one where Sherlock is the gift that never stops giving. AU!Bucky because he always has your back. Enjoy!

Author’s Note: There is a lot of angst and multiple different aspects that could be very triggering for some within this work. Please be mindful of the trigger warning below and if you see something that you feel should be listed, message me and I will edit accordingly!

Trigger Warning: Severe depression, suicidal ideations, suicide attempt (overdose), forced vomiting, talk of death in general, angst with a happy ending

Sherlock Holmes/Reader

You couldn’t really tell how long you’d been lying in bed for. Time was such a foreign concept to you now. It was either before the fall, when you were happy and he was with you, or after the fall, where you were all alone. You weren’t alone physically because your friends would never allow for that. Since the fall, you’d been staying in Sherlock’s flat, and Mrs. Hudson would always bring you a plate of whatever she was cooking and put it in the fridge. And like clockwork, she’d come every Sunday and clean the fridge out from where you didn’t touch any of the plates. She never seemed to mind, though, and she never stopped bringing you food.

Bucky would come by every day and check on you and help you do things around the house. And by help you, he did everything for you. Mrs. Hudson would let him stay in John’s old room whenever he needed, and he’d make sure you showered and that your laundry was done. He would tell you he does this because he loves you and that even though you weren’t born his sister, you would die that way.

John had moved on and moved out and you were happy for him. Mary was lovely, and you wished you could move on with your life, but you couldn’t. You knew he was taking it just as hard as you and that you both just had different ways of coping with the pain.

When you had to quit your job, Mycroft was immediately there and offered to take care of you financially. “Please, allow me to do this for you. It’s what my brother would have wanted. He couldn’t stand me when he was ali—here, so the least I can do is make him happy where he is now,” he said quietly. Pigs must’ve been flying in the window behind you because when you reached to hug Mycroft, he met you halfway. You cried nonstop for days after that.

You had tried to be better after the scare, not for you, but for your family. You don’t remember much from it, but you do know that no one brings it up around you and you haven’t been left alone for longer than a few hours since.

You woke up with your face propped up against something cool, but you could barely open your eyes to see where you were. Your stomach was in the most pain it had ever been in and everything around you sounded so far away. You remember being yanked back and fingers were shoved down your throat and someone, Bucky, was standing over you and holding you up saying through tears, “I know it hurts and I’m sorry, but you have to throw it up, Y/N. You have to. I can’t lose you, too.”

Everything hurt and in between gags you could hear Mrs. Hudson crying and begging whoever was on the phone to get there faster. You had never heard anyone scream like that and you were sorry you were the one who caused it.

Even though you’d promised Sherlock he would never lose you, Fate stepped in and you lost him. When you thought about the turn your life had taken, you just told everyone you were keeping your end of the deal.

Bucky knocked on your door and stuck his head in. “Mornin’, Y/N. I’m gonna start some laundry and make us some coffee and then I’ll be back, okay?” You could tell he was worried by the tone of his voice, but he did a good job of hiding it. You didn’t say anything back to it and he didn’t expect you to.

Bucky came in a little later with some towels in his hand and a coffee in the other. “I know you’re not feeling real good today, so I was thinking I could wash your hair for you? You can just bend over the tub and I’ll do all the work. I’ve even been watching some videos on how to braid and then you won’t have to worry it matting up either.” He set the coffee down on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed next to you.

By this point you were already crying into the pillow because how could the people in your life love you this much when you had nothing to offer them anymore?

“I love you so much,” you cried, and Bucky’s heart broke at the sound, “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry and I love you.”

He brushed the hair away from your face. His hands were warm, and it made you feel human again. “You don’t have to be sorry. I love you and I will take care of you for however long you need me to. God knows you would-- and have, done the same for me. So, let me wash your hair for you and I can tell you all about how Lestrade constantly shits on Anderson now as an eternal tribute.”

You smiled and although it wasn’t full of life, he was just as happy to see it. You ended up just getting a shower and Bucky rushed next door to get you a sandwich in hopes that you’d eat for him, too.

As you were brushing your hair out, you heard multiple voices. You heard Bucky, and he sounded… shocked? And then there was John and then just as you were about to reach for the door you heard it. You would know that baritone voice anywhere. Barging out of the bathroom and almost tripping over your own two feet, you came to a full stop.

“Sherlock?”

There he stood in the middle of the room with John a few feet behind him, and Bucky with his back to you, seemingly always ready to protect you. It looked like him and it sounded like him, and hell, it even smelled like him. You couldn’t believe it.

“Y/N.” He went to make a step towards you but seemed to have think better of it. It was better if he assessed your reaction to seeing him first. It had been so long since he had last seen you and while he silently fought the raw want he had to hold you, he knew you were seeing red.

“I don’t even—I can’t-- can’t even comprehend this. Where do I start? Where the fuck have you been? You were dead, Sherlock! I watched you…” You squeezed your eyes shut, steeling yourself the best you could. You weren’t going to cry. You had too much to say. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw John and Bucky slip through the front door. You were sure that was their best bet.

Sherlock said nothing as you went off because there was really nothing for him to say. He understood why you were so mad with him, even if he wasn’t generally self-aware when it came to his own feelings, he wasn’t that daft. He had come prepared for this and he was going to make it right.

“No, you know what? Don’t say anything. I don’t even want to hear it. I have been fucking rotting in this flat while everyone else was able to move on with their lives. I was here, because I couldn’t live without you. My world stopped. I do nothing, Sherlock, nothing but sit and lay in your bed and cry into your old shirts!” You were yelling now, hands running through your hair as you tried to make sense of it all. Somewhere in the back of your mind you made a mental note to thank Bucky for making you get up and shower this morning.

“I quit my job, Sherlock. Mycroft has been paying to keep me alive and Mrs. Hudson and Bucky take turns to make sure I’m still breathing every other hour because they’re scared that if I’m left alone for too long, I won’t be. And poor John, I see him and start fucking bawling because then all I see is you. I stopped caring about everything, and everyone else, because the only person I cared about looked me in the eyes and walked off a fucking building!”

Sherlock opened his mouth to say something, but you quickly cut him off.

“Seriously, don’t speak. You don’t get to just waltz in with John after all this time—you know what? There’s the million-dollar question. Was I the only one who didn’t know you were alive? Because so help me God, Sherlock, I’m this close to losing it.”

He didn’t know whether or not he should actually speak, but he took the cue after he started to physically feel the heat from the deathly glare you were giving him. You quite literally looked deranged but that didn’t stop him from taking a step towards you. He always seemed to chase danger, and you were no exception.

“No… you weren’t the only one. John only just found out a few weeks ago, and only a few select people knew the whole time.” Sherlock was careful with his words. He knew he was walking on thin ice.

You didn’t say anything to that, and Sherlock found that even scarier than when you were yelling.

“Hah, select people, huh? I like that one. So, where were you staying? Were you in London this whole time? Shit, you could’ve been downstairs for all I know. I guess I wouldn’t be a select person to know that, though, would I?”

Sherlock grimaced. Things were going worse than he imagined, and he already figured it would be pretty bad. That was an understatement. “I had to jump around often for everyone’s safety, but I stayed in London for the most part. I stayed with Molly when I could.”

You laughed in his face at that, and you clamped your hand over your mouth, turning your back on him lest you start laughing again. He watched you with furrowed brows and you knew he wanted to speak but you couldn’t do it right now. You took a few steps towards the kitchen window and looked out at the bustling London streets beneath you. For months your world stopped, and it seemed so real when in reality nothing stopped at all.

“Great, great. That’s so great. Splendid, really.” You murmured to yourself and perched your free hand on your hip. Drumming your fingers against your lips, you began again.

“Bucky had to glue the windows down because he thought I was going to jump, and you were staying with Molly.” The tone of your voice was venomous and if looks could kill, Sherlock Holmes would be dead for real this time.

Sherlock winced. “Y/N, please, let me—” You cut him off, speaking louder this time. Your face was void of emotion, but your eyes betrayed you as the tears started to fall freely and your voice cracked under the weight of everything that was being said.

“Bucky had to glue the windows down because I thought I was going to jump, and you were staying with Molly! Damn you, Sherlock Holmes! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” You grasped at the kitchen counter to steady yourself as you gasped for air between the sobs that you couldn’t contain anymore. Your heart ached so badly that you actually clutched your chest, afraid that it was going to break through your ribcage and abandon ship. You could barely register Sherlock coming up behind you through your tears and as he willed you to face him, you noticed that his eyes were brimmed red and glossy. Even sad, Sherlock looked as beautiful as a doll.

“I always come when you call, why didn’t you come for me?” You cried, fisting your hands in his shirt so tightly that you thought heard buttons pop. Your head was swimming and you had never felt more betrayed in your life. How could Sherlock turn to anyone but you? Had you not made it clear that you would do anything for him?

“I called for you every single night, Sherlock! Begged for you, mourned you, I—” The tears wouldn’t stop flowing and your voice was starting to crack from its sudden and harsh overuse.

It was then that Sherlock wedged himself so close to you that you didn’t even have the space to move your head and look up at him. A pair of strong arms wrapped around your back and you were being squeezed so hard to him that you thought you’d either die from a heart attack or suffocation. And even now at the hands of Sherlock, neither seemed that bad. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He whispered against your forehead again and again as if he was repeating a chant he had been practicing for some time.

“I love you so much and you didn’t even call! Why didn’t you call?” Your words were lost to the both of you now, spoken into his shirt and distorted by your sobs. Sherlock held you as you cried and tried to contain your shaking body against his as you let out months of sadness and pain and despair. You were so overwhelmed that you couldn’t think straight.

“I know, I know you do, and that’s why I couldn’t call. I couldn’t call for you.” He held onto you as he spoke like you would disappear. Sherlock had decided before he even stepped foot into the flat that he would not lose you again. In his time away from you, he was subjected to feelings he could only describe as both love and heartbreak in equal measure. Being apart from you had left him feeling a void that nothing could fill, but it was his love for you that he relied on to keep you safe and away from him.

Sherlock pulled back from you and while it was only by a few inches, you suddenly felt worlds away. You go to pull him back to you when he gathers your hands in his and leaves a trail of ghostly kisses along the spread of your knuckles.

“I have never begged for mercy in my life…” He murmurs, eyes never leaving yours. He was determined; that much you could tell. Your eyes widened as he lowered himself to one knee, and then two. “Until now. I have hurt you in ways that are beyond comprehensible. Please, grant me the mercy I do not deserve to explain myself. I am willing to bare myself before you if you’ll have me.”

You were in shock at the sight of Sherlock on his knees before you. You had heard him apologize maybe twice in your time of knowing him and here he was, begging for you to hear him out. All you could do is nod.

You expected him to stand up again, but he sat in place and looked up at you with so much love in his eyes that felt all the anger you were harboring dissipate under his gaze. He took a deep breath and prepared himself. If you were ever going to forgive him, he knew that he would have to be honest. And he knew that if he was going to be honest, he would have to admit the feelings he had for you and hope that he could express them in a way that you could understand.

“There were constantly people watching you, and John, and pretty much everyone else who held any value in my life,” he explained, rubbing his thumbs over your fingers as he spoke absentmindedly, “they knew you would be suffering, they counted on that. And if you weren’t, they’d know something was going on. Your suffering had to be real, or else it wouldn’t have been believable. I didn’t want to keep you in the dark. But I had no choice. When I faked my death, I had some help. I stayed with Molly here and there because she already knew, and my relationship with her is is…different for ours.” He paused.

You were hanging on every word he said. You could tell he was being sincere, and even though you were upset, you understood. If leaving Sherlock meant protecting him, you would do it too.

He cleared his throat and started again. “Molly was a safer option. They would have expected less of a reaction from her. And if things were to go wrong…” Trailing off, Sherlock squeezed your hands. You knew what he was trying to say, and you didn’t dare breathe. “You were not someone I could lose. It couldn’t have been you. So yes, I stayed with Molly, but I worked constantly to make it so that I could come home to you.”

You couldn’t take it anymore. “Sherlock,” you whimpered, pulling him to his feet by his collar and back to you where he belonged. He followed suit quickly like he was reading your mind.

For what seemed like the first time today, you were truly taking him in. He was just as beautiful as he was the day he left you. You reached up to brush away a stray curl from his eyes and smiled at the way he seemed to try and follow your touch.

There were so many things that you couldn’t be sure of, but this is something you’d always know to be true. You loved Sherlock, terribly, terribly, so. If loving him was the only purpose you ever found in this lifetime, you would be sure not to fail him.

You were lost in other when the sound of footsteps climbing up the stairs drew your attention. Sherlock followed your gaze as you watched John enter the flat from the living room.

“Is everyone okay up here? There was a lot of yelling and then it got pretty quiet…” As he rounded the corner to the kitchen, he stopped in his tracks at the sight of you braced against the counter with a small amount of space between you and Sherlock that he must’ve recently graced you with because you could barely move before. His hands rested on your hips and your hands had found solace on his shoulders. John looked like a deer caught in headlights before he covered his eyes with his hands and made to walk back out, determined not to ruin the moment that all of London was waiting on.

“Fuck, I’m sorry! Don’t mind me, pretend I was never here!” He called out as he dashed back down the stairs so quickly you thought he had fallen and you were sure you heard him say to someone, “I told you so!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the whole situation and when you looked back at Sherlock, you realized he was already looking at you. Even after everything today, you still caught yourself feeling nervous under his heavy gaze.

“So, it’s okay when you stare but not when I do?” You teased, hoping that he couldn’t see the blush you could surely feel. Sherlock squinted his eyes at your comment as if he didn’t understand what you meant but gave you a devilish smile all the same.

“I’m sorry.” He wasn’t. “But you are confirming that you do stare at me, right?”

You were torn between smacking the smirk off his face or kissing it, whatever compelled you the most and right now it was a tie. Rolling your eyes, you brought your hands down to his arms and gave them a squeeze. Not even realizing you were thinking out loud, you whispered something about having déjà vu. This caught Sherlock’s attention, and he moved tiniest bit closer to you. “Déjà vu? How so?”

Cursing yourself under your breath, you laughed and dipped your head down between the two of you, laughing at how ridiculous all of this was. “Jeez, it’s been years now. I had the most realistic dream that’s stuck with me all this time.”

Sherlock tsked at you and moved to bring your head back up so that he could properly see your face. He cupped your cheeks and in the most familiar way and just like in the dream, you were breathless.

“Go on,” he urged, voice like velvet, “tell me what happened in your dream.”

You all but melted under his gaze. Sherlock, in any form, would always have this effect on you it seemed. His thumb brushed along your lower lip as his own parted. Physically he was with you, but mentally he was far away committing this memory to only a place he could see.

“Use your words. I’m paying raft attention, aren’t I?” Once again you thanked Mrs. Hudson and her choice in countertops because if it was any less sturdy you were sure you would collapse and bring him down with you. On second thought—

Any coherent thought was lost to you when Sherlock nosed your cheek, and you couldn’t help the gasp that left your lips or the words after.

“I told you I loved you, Sherlock. That’s what happened in the dream.” Your words were spoken so quickly in the effort to chase after his lips but he held you still, waiting and wanting in front of him.

You whined like a child. None of anything that happened today was fair to you, but one kiss and you would forgive all of London for keeping your detective’s secret.

“Well, I guess the only proper response to that is for me to tell you that I’ve loved you for ages, my dear girl.” He smiled against your skin and you thought that this was it. You had officially lost your last marble, and this was the delirium finally setting in. You welcomed the insanity happily.

“Say it again, please. I need to hear you say it again.” You begged, everything hitting you at all at once.

“I love you,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. “I love you, and it’s only ever been you. It couldn’t be anyone else but you. You…didn’t you know that?” His eyebrows rose up and you stopped him in his tracks. That was Sherlock for “are you dumb?”

It was then that you decided you were done with talking before he had the chance to say anything smart. You pulled him down to you so quickly that you missed the shock that flashed in his eyes when your lips finally met. After years of yearning and pining for the man in front of you, you finally had him right where you wanted him. There were so many things you wanted to say to him, but no words would express how you truly felt about him and lucky for you, Sherlock was more of a hands-on learner.

When you finally broke apart, you got to admire the man of your every hour in all his glory. The mussed hair and kiss swollen lips really added to his already suave look and you couldn’t help but smile like an idiot. “You’re handsome. So handsome, seriously, it should really be a crime. I can finally tell you that without any shame.”

He returned your smile tenfold, and you thought if you could make his eyes crinkle like that just one more time in your life that it would be a life well lived. He acted as if he was mulling your statement over, rolling his bottom lip between teeth. “You could’ve mentioned it before. It might’ve helped me make my deductions much sooner.”

You slapped him on the shoulder but then worked on smoothing his shirt out while he watched you with a gentle fondness that he reserved just for you. You still had so many questions that you wanted answered but you knew those could wait. Something had been generous enough to answer your most asked prayer and you weren’t about to be ungrateful for even a second.

Placing one last (for now) kiss on his cheek, you led him to the door to the flat and swung it open. “Hey, has Mrs. Hudson seen you—”

As if on perfect cue, Mrs. Hudson shrieks so loudly that any bad memory you have of her yelling is now a good one.

“Sherlock!”

#bbc sherlock #bbc sherlock fanfiction #bbc sherlock imagine #bbc sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock x you #sherlock holmes #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock x you #sherlock imagine #sherlock #sherlock has feelings #sherlock holmes imagine #sherlock holmes fanfiction #reader insert #fanfic #luxwrites #bucky x reader #au bucky barnes

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hyuckssunchip · 4 years ago

Text

Blooming Pt. 1

Pairings: Jisung x Reader, ft. nct dream, lucas (honorary member of dream)

Words: 7.5K

Warnings: Language (there is almost always language in my writings), angst, fluff

Synopsis:

Love isn’t as easy as it seems, Park Jisung is an advocate of that. A blooming relationship that has prematurely ceased can be re-sparked years later, or can it? Will Jisung be able to overcome his fears in order to succeed in what he deems love?

Part 1 | Part 2

Freshman Yr.

Hey Jisung,

I know that this is kinda random and I only have the guts to do this now because I probably won’t see you again but here goes. I think you are a really sweet and cool guy and I wish I had gotten to know you better, probably because I had a big crush on you... I just thought I would send this to you because I know it’s nice to know and it’s probably a little bit of a confidence booster. (I also kinda wanted to get this off my chest). Sorry for the essay and you don’t have to respond to this if it’s awkward … I hope you stay safe especially with what’s going on right now

You held your breath, panicking at the loading sign on your phone. Welp, it was too late now.

You were pacing back and forth in your living room, nail very much in your mouth as you bit them anxiously.

“I just sent it.” You breathed out, “Oh my god, I just sent it.” At this point you were nearly in tears you were so nervous.

“That’s good. It’s like one a.m. though, so don’t be too worried if he doesn’t answer right away.” You nodded into the receiver, and although your best friend couldn’t see you, she still understood your silence.

You had called your best friend earlier to ask for her advice about the guy you had told her about months ago. It was the last quarter of school for this year and you finally had the courage to confess to him.

Your best friend Megan was a little bit more experienced than you and she laughed when you had told her you wrote drafts, and you promptly sent it to her.

“He’s not writing back.” You told her, staring intently at the screen, refreshing it every few seconds as if that would make him answer.

“Well of course not, you literally sent it ten seconds ago. Besides I told you, it’s late, he might just reply in the morning.” She sighed at your panicked state.

“Oh my god! He read it.” You bit your lip, staring at the numbers below your text.

“Oh.” She giggled, “Cute, he has read receipts on like you.”

You barely had time to comprehend what she had said when you gasped out, “Oh my god. He’s typing, he’s typing! There’s bubbles.”

She laughed, “Wow, that was fast.”

You weren’t exactly paying attention to her, focused very much on the bubbles that were still there. Then suddenly they stopped.

“They stopped.” You felt the need to relay everything to her.

“That’s fine, he’s probably just reading over it.” You nodded, trying to convince yourself. But you couldn’t because nothing ever came. It was almost 25 minutes later that you heard the familiar ding of your phone.

Hey Y/N! thanks for letting me know, it really is not easy but rip coronavirus really is kinda messing with everything. i think you’re a really nice person and if circumstances would have allowed, i would have wanted to get to know you more too. everything is kinda hectic rn and i wish you the besttt and stay safe too!!

Immediately you called Megan again. “It doesn’t look good…Listen to what he said.” You read the text, heart dropping with every word you read.

“What are you talking about? That’s a good thing. Y/N he said he wants to get to know you better too. That’s sweet. I think he’s just keeping it open though, cause there’s not much you guys can do anyways.”

“Yeah.” You tried to not let out how dejected you were, but it was clear to her.

“Hey don’t worry about it. If he doesn’t like you then he’s not worth worrying over.”

“Right.” You pouted despite what she said making sense. “Look I’ll call you later, I’ve got to go now.”

“Okay, Y/N, don’t stress too much about it, okay?”

You hummed back, mumbling out your goodbyes.

The moment you hung up, you threw your phone on the bed, falling next to it. You sighed, trying not to overthink everything.

That’s why you confessed now, so that if you were so badly rejected, you wouldn’t have to see him again. Right?

You groaned, closing your eyes, hoping that sleep would make you feel better. Or perhaps you would wake up and find that this was all a dream.

You woke up and of course with habit, the first thing you did was look over at your phone. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, grinning at the screen.

You weren’t thrilled that it was in reality a dream, but on the other hand things had become very real very fast.

NOTIFICATION

Park Jisung 5:18 a.m.

oh, are you still going back to school next year?

You smiled at the text, heart immediately choosing to beat faster than you would’ve liked. With a glance at the clock you realized it was 8:07 a.m. and you couldn’t stop yourself from replying the moment you saw it.

yeah, i’m planning on living off campus tho… are you gonna live off campus too?

You panicked, staring at the screen, knowing damn well that he wasn’t about to reply at 8 in the morning. You had to restrain yourself from calling your best friend that very moment, you were in a happy mood and waking her up would not keep that.

The entire day you were buzzing, constantly checking your phone for new notifications. For the first time you understood what phantom texts felt like. Every couple of minutes you were sure that you felt a text, but alas it was your imagination.

It wasn’t until 4 p.m. when a real text came through, ringing loud and clear. You had turned your ringer on and off, making sure that it was working just in case.

yup! I’ll be living by the shopping complex in downtown. how about you?

Restraint was not easy for you, and you replied after a few moments passed. Megan had constantly told you to let at least a few minutes pass, but you couldn’t help it. Besides, read receipts were not in your favor.

Conversation seemed to come really easy to you, and after an hour of texting non stop he said he had one more final to take.

You understood and immediately felt bad, realizing that you had taken up precious study time for him. You wished him good luck and spent the rest of the night relaying every detail to Megan over the phone.

Little did you know that that conversation would be the last for a long time.

3 months later

It was time for a break. And what better way was there than a small kickback with your best friends after midterms?

“I brought the good stuff.” You were startled, laying on the daybed of your other friend, Camille’s room. It was the perfect spot for a kickback. A couple hundred feet from the main house, and completely stocked with all that you needed.

You sat up glancing at the armfuls of alcohol Megan had snagged, don’t ask how she got it.

You giggled at the thought, watching as Camille helped unload. “Let the games begin.”

“Truth or Dare Y/N?” You groaned, turning away from the both of them.

“You know I hate this game.”

Megan didn’t let up. “Camille has a pond.”

That was enough information for you. You took a glance out the window, noting that it was freezing outside. You were not taking a chance on her intentions. “Truth.”

“Boring.” She sang, but nevertheless had a question set. “Have you talked to that boy since the last time you called me about him?”

You grumbled to yourself, taking a shot and grimacing. “No.”

“Why not?” Camille asked, reaching for the bottle still in your hand.

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t know, I’m too much of a coward to text him now. But he could text me first too you know. Especially cause I took the first jump. It’s probably because he doesn’t like me.”

You sighed, staring at the bottle again, tempted to take another shot.

“I’m sure that’s not the case.” You missed the look Megan shot Camille, already coming up with a new idea.

In the end you caved, choosing that perhaps another shot could bring you happiness. But it just burned your throat.

“Megan truth or dare?”

“Dare, duh.” You watched the proud look on her face.

“I dare you to… snapchat that dude that sent dick pics to fuck off.” Camille said, watching Megan’s face contort into delight.

“Hell yeah! It would be my pleasure.” She giggled, and you noticed that she was feeling the alcohol as well.

You felt the need to roll your eyes again.

“Done. And blocked.” She tossed her phone in the middle of the group with satisfaction.

“I don’t know why you just didn’t block him right after he sent them.” You commented, chewing on a gummy worm.

She just shrugged, “I don’t know, it was kind of fun I guess. Anyways. Camille, truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Do you really only see Carson as a friend?” Camille sputtered at the question, spitting out a bit of juice.

“No, I see him as a brother. That’s disgusting, besides he’s dating Bailee.” She shook her head, working to clean up the mess.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t like him.” Megan muttered, before dropping it and turning back to you.

“Y/N truth or dare?”

“Truth.” You mumbled out, not really paying attention.

“Come on, do at least one dare. It’s not fun if you only answer truth.” She whined, pushing another cup of jungle juice towards you.

You hesitantly sniffed the cup before taking a sip. A moment of silence passed as they waited for you. You let out a deep sigh, “Fine, dare. What do you want?”

“I dare you to text him.”

You froze, you knew that’s what she was going to say, but you were so out of it that you let it slide.

“You know I can’t do that.” You answered, wide eyed.

“It’s a dare.” Megan nodded at the window, insinuating the punishment.

“No, I really can’t. I’ll give you my phone though, but I can’t do it.” You dug the phone out of your backpack and tossed it next to hers, which she grabbed immediately typing in your password that she had memorized.

“Deal. I’ll just start it, then you can keep the conversation going.” You waved her off, choosing to drown yourself in as much alcohol as you could in hopes of forgetting that this happened tomorrow morning.

“Done. I just sent hey, with like three y’s and a smiley face. Not the emoji though.” Your mouth dropped at her.

“That’s so not me though. You know I use emojis, and I don’t do the all, heyyyy thing. He’s gonna know.” She just shrugged, sliding the phone back to you.

You sighed, staring at the empty screen, the other two returning to the game.

But it was three minutes later when your phone dinged, a text from Jisung lighting up your screen.

“Is that him?” Camille asked, peeking over at the screen.

“Yeah. I don’t wanna read it though, you do it.” You pushed it away, pulling your knees into your chest.

“I got you.” Megan paused. “See. Guys like the hey thing. He did it back, I don’t know what you were talking about, he’s totally into you.”

You grinned, crawling forward to see for yourself. The phone dinged again seconds later.

“Ooh, that’s hot. I like it when a guy texts in multiple bubbles, it shows they just text you what they think. They’re not planning it out or anything.” Megan commented, already typing in a response for you.

You watched over her shoulder, glancing at Camille who was doing the same.

“Is this good?” You just nodded back, sitting back on your heels to take a break.

“Oh, wow. That was fast. He texted back.” Although she sounded impressed, she frowned at the text.

“What? What is it?” You asked, panicking at her expression.

“Nothing. He’s just… dry. Was he always a dry texter?” She asked, handing the phone back to you.

“No? I don’t know, I didn’t think he was dry, we texted for like an hour straight that one time.” You mumbled, looking at the phone disappointed.

“Well he seems pretty dry to me. Maybe you should text him, maybe you were right, my texting was too different from yours.” You bit your lip and nodded, trying to come up with a response to him.

You didn’t know if it was because you were drunk, or that he could tell you were drunk, but while the conversation did get slightly better, he seemed dry to you as well. It was after twenty minutes of texting that you couldn’t keep the conversation any longer. You became frustrated at the dwindling conversation.

You had chosen to contact him again after three months of ghosting each other, and now he was making it difficult to carry a conversation. Maybe he really doesn’t like you. You felt your face heat up in embarrassment. Fine, you thought, you weren’t reaching out anymore. You didn’t want to be seen as pathetic, you could catch a hint. He just didn’t like you and was being nice. If he did actually like you, he could reach out to you.

This didn’t stop you from thinking about him for the month following the drunken incident.

2 years later Junior Yr.

“I swear if you’re late for this one too, I’m not setting you up on anymore blind dates!” You winced at the sound of your roommate cursing at you.

“I’m going!” You yelled back, slipping out the front door before she had a chance to attack you again.

You managed to close door without hearing what ever else she had in store for you.

Your keys jangled as you quickly tried to lock the bright red door, giving it one last tug of reassurance when you turned on your heel to find your car.

“Oof!” A body collided with yours, you were partially, well mostly at fault.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I should’ve paid more attention. It’s just, I was in a bit of a rush…” You trailed off, finally getting a good look at the other person’s face. “Jisung?”

He simply stared back with a blank look on his face, mouth hung slightly open. “Y/N?”

You hated how your heart quickened at the sound of your name from his lips.

“I-I… wow…” You stuttered out, not quite able to act as natural as you had hoped. “Do you live here?”

“Uh… yeah, I live next door.” He pointed to your left, and when you followed his finger sure enough it was right next to your apartment. You missed the way that he looked you up and down, gulping at the sight of you in years.

“Oh. Wow, what a coincidence, I guess.” You laughed out nervously, hands playing with your lanyard.

“Yeah.” He nodded back, not really making eye contact. Not that you were trying either.

“Well…”

“Yeah.”

There was an awkward silence between you two, and you cleared your throat to break some tension.

“I was actually on my way out, so… I’ve got to get going. But I’ll see you around.” You put on a fake smile that didn’t really reach your eyes, and shot him a wave before rushing off to your car. Once under the safety of your car, you sighed and tried to discreetly glance at the boy you hadn’t seen or thought of in years.

You shook your head, starting the ignition. It’s time to forget him, you told yourself, besides I’ve got a date waiting for me right now.

It wasn’t until Jisung was positive you could no longer see him, having driven off minutes ago, that he threw his head back and let out the deep breath he didn’t know he was holding. The blush he had been so desperately holding out finally came over his face, as he felt the heat burn his ears.

He had just begun to forget about you, from time to time, pausing over your conversation stream. Although it was torture, every once in a while he would read back all the texts, hating the way that they abruptly stopped. On occasion, mostly when he was drunk, but there were times when he was sober, he would even type out a text but fail to send it.

Jisung was never the outgoing type, he envied those who were. Those that could just strike up a conversation and carry on like it was second nature. But it was hard for Jisung. It took work and energy, and sometimes he didn’t have that. It was stressful and scary to Jisung.

It was a godsend when you reached out to him years ago, claiming so boldly your feelings for him. He wasn’t going to admit it, but then he had asked for his friends help in responding. It was Mark’s wishy-washy personality that had unbeknowingly sent your mind in circles that night.

It was Haechan’s straight-forward nature that had forced him to text you at 5 a.m. the next morning. He was tired of hearing about Jisung’s concerns as to why you didn’t reply earlier, complaining that if he was that worried just text her.

So he did.

And it worked.

It worked so well. That hour he had spent texting you had butterflies dancing in his belly. He had never felt happier or more connected than at that moment. It wasn’t until his alarm rang, notifying him that he had five minutes until his last final did he stop smiling.

He was more than disappointed when nothing came out of the conversation. Of course he knew that it wasn’t just your fault, after all he had a phone, he could text you too.

And he tried, he really did. Multiple times. But every text he drafted was soon deleted and so the conversation ran dry. That was until three months later, May 16th.

But you always seemed to catch him at a bad time. It was Saturday, but his professor had given him an extension on his paper and it was due at midnight.

Your first text came at 10:58 p.m.

It took all he had not to answer the text, and eventually he did cave. But as much as he wanted to focus on you he couldn’t, after all he had begged his professor to extend his deadline, he had to finish this.

Maybe that’s why this time you didn’t seem so responsive. Maybe that’s why this time it only took twenty minutes for the conversation to end.

Maybe that’s why, after it took him forty-five minutes to respond to your last text, you left him on read.

“What’s with the long face dude?” His best friend, and housemate asked, slapping his back passive-aggressively.

“Nothing. And I don’t have a long face.” He pushed back, shoving him softly out of the way.

“Who was that? At the front door?” Jaemin asked, shoving a cookie into his mouth.

“No one, just someone I knew.” Jisung muttered back, reaching out to steal one from the jar.

“Just someone I knew.” Chenle mocked back, leaning against the wall of the kitchen. “Right. We all could see the look on your face, that’s not just someone you knew.”

Jisung shrugged. “She was a girl I was texting.” He tried to pull it off nonchalantly, but it was evident to his housemates that it wasn’t nothing.

“Shit. Was that that girl you were talking to freshman year? The one you were head over heels for?” Jeno asked, grabbing a seat on a barstool, his laptop tightly in his grip. It was obvious he was working on something.

“Y/N?”Jaemin asked around the crumbs that filled his mouth.

“Ew. Gross. Have some manners dude.” Renjun said shoving Jaemin off the counter where he was perched, “And how many times do I have to tell you not to sit on the counter, that’s not sanitary. We have chairs for a reason.”

Jaemin made a face, but still moved to take a seat next to Jeno.

“Yeah.” Jisung frowned at the rest of the guys. “Did I make it that obvious?”

Renjun laughed, pulling a plate out of the cabinet. “You just talked about her everyday for a month. But no, not that obvious.”

“You should talk to her again, does she live close by?” Jeno asked, typing away at his computer.

“Yeah, she’s… uh… she’s our neighbor.” He rushed the last bit out, knowing that they would take advantage of the situation.

“Ooh! Our Jisung’s little girlfriend lives next door guys!” Chenle cackled out, “Guys, this is fate. And it’s our job to help out.”

Jisung scowled at him, knowing that Chenle meant what he said, “No. Guys leave her alone. Don’t make things weird. We’re going to be neighbors for the rest of the year, I don’t want to have to avoid her.”

“Avoid who?”

“Haechan, how many times did I tell you to give me that key back?” Renjun asked, narrowing his eyes at the boy.

“Too many.” Haechan shrugged, letting Mark close the door behind him. “You can have this one back though, I’ve got two more copies at my apartment.”

Renjun threw his hands in the air, “I give up.” He picked up his plate of leftovers, opting to sit at the bar next to Jaemin.

“Who are we avoiding though?” Mark asked, settling against the wall next to Chenle.

“Y/N.” Chenle said, giving Mark a knowing grin.

“Y/N? Wait isn’t that...?” Mark furrowed his eyebrows, sporting his signature confused face.

“Uh-huh.”

“Why are we avoiding her?” He asked, turning to Jisung, who had been awfully quiet.

“We’re not.” Jeno spoke up, finally shutting his laptop. “We just found out she’s our neighbor and Jisung doesn’t want us to do anything about it, cause he doesn’t want to avoid her.”

Haechan grinned, pulling out a glass and filling it up with water from the fridge. “So you still like her?”

“No.” There was an empty silence. “Yes.”

Jisung sighed at the commotion his confession caused.

“Well, don’t you think it’s our duty, as your friend, to help you out? After all, I feel like I am very invested in this budding relationship. I did help send the text that set things in motion.” Haechan boasted animatedly, accidently spilling some of his water, which he wiped up with this sock.

“No. I don’t think that it’s your duty. And please stay out of it?” He all but begged the rest of the boys. Much to his dismay, none of them looked like they were swayed.

Jaemin clapped his hands together standing up, “Okay, how about some neighborly cookies? Everyone likes cookies.”

Jeno rolled his eyes with a smile, but stood up anyways. “Sure I’m down, but no more of those peanut butter ones, those are shitty. Can’t we just do chocolate chip?”

Jaemin frowned, digging through the pantry cabinet. “You’re lucky we’re out of those. Chocolate chip it is.”

Haechan strolled towards Jisung, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, “How about we get drafting then?” He snorted, “I think a nice love letter should do it.”

Jisung shoved him away with more force than necessary, “Get off me. And no. Stop it with the love letter thing, I was drunk and sad okay?”

Mark butted in before the two of them would really start fighting, “Actually I don’t think that’s a bad idea. I think she’d like that, like, slip it in with the cookies or something. Just say you’d like to see her again, and hang out.”

Renjun stood up, placing his dishes in the sink, “Dude this is why Jisung sent mixed signals in the first place, ‘i’d like to see you again’, ‘let’s hang out’. Can you get any more confusing than that?”

Mark frowned and cocked his head, opening his mouth to retort, but Haechan beat him to it. “Then what would you say Renjun? ‘Oh how beautiful your eyes compare to a midsummer’s eve. May I court you this evening?’”

Renjun glared at him. “You’re not funny. And no. I was going to say, just tell her it was a missed opportunity. That you’d like to take her out on a date now that you can.”

Jisung shook his head violently at the sound of that. “How am I supposed to do that? That’s way too straight forward, what if she says no?”

“Dude, she likes you. Remember? She sent you that text. And if her feelings aren’t there anymore then… well… I don’t know. But the chances are low.” Jeno tried to reassure him, not doing a very good job of it.

Jisung sucked a breath in, ultimately letting out a hissing noise.

“Trust me on this one Jisung. I make a mean cookie, we’ll just head over there later today and rekindle whatever you two have.” Jaemin cooed at the boy with a big smile.

“Right. Like I can trust all of you.” He muttered to himself, choosing to escape to the confines of his room.

“So… how was it?” Your roommate asked expectantly, a far change from the way she was speaking to you earlier.

You shrugged, “I dunno, he was nice I guess.” You shook your head. “I don’t know why you guys are all pushy on this stuff. Like I get it, but it’s weird trying to date someone that I’ve just met you know?”

Your roommate Alex just shook her head, waving you off. “Whatever, so did you like him or not? Is there gonna be a second date?”

You laughed at her, she was way too invested in your non-existent love life. “I don’t know, I think so. He was sweet and stuff, but like I said it’s weird.”

“Well, that’s the furthest you’ve gotten so far.” You sent her a glare. “I’m just saying. You always either end up leaving the date, or never seeing them again.”

“Shut up, I don’t-”

You were cut off by the sound of the doorbell ringing. Alex and you exchanged glances, you weren’t expecting anybody.

She stood up, grabbing the bat next to the door, that your mother insisted you bring, ‘just in case’.

You huffed, moving past her, “You know, you could just look through the peephole.” You leaned forward squinting into the door, only to find a group of boys that seemed your age.

“Who is it?”

You pulled back, tilting your head, “I don’t know, just a group of guys.”

You unlocked the door, peeking out through the crack slightly, and you were greeted very enthusiastically by the boy in front.

“Hi!” He grinned, showing off a perfect set of pearly whites. He was waving very aggressively with his free hand, the other seemed to be holding a plate of cookies. “I’m Jaemin! We’re neighbors.”

After his quick introduction he shoved the plate towards you, never letting the smile leave his face.

“Uh… hi?” You weren’t quite sure what to say.

Luckily Alex did, “Hi, I’m Alex and this is Y/N. That’s so sweet of you.” She smiled back, taking the plate from you. “Do you guys want to come in? We can crack them open right now.”

You stepped back, watching the trail of six- no seven guys just stroll into your apartment.

“What the hell?” You muttered to yourself, closing the door softly behind the last boy.

“Hi Y/N.”

You looked up to see Jisung again, and you took a slight step back, startled at the sight.

“Jisung. Oh.” You barely let out.

“Sorry, we didn’t mean to overstep or anything. The guys just wanted to meet you… all. They wanted to meet all of you… cause you’re our neighbors, and all…”

You blushed realizing that he had heard you comment, completely ignoring the way that Jisung was stumbling all over his words.

Haechan took no time in introducing himself, and taking the honor of introducing everyone else as well.

“I’m Haechan, this is Mark, Jeno, Chenle, and Renjun. You already know Jaemin, and I’m aware that you already know Jisung.” He grinned proudly after gesturing to each of the respective boys.

“Jisung?” Alex asked, eyebrows raised. You hadn’t told her about him. For one, it never came up, and secondly, it’s not like it was anything important now. That was years ago, you didn’t feel the need to inform her of every detail of your life, like him.

Haechan cocked his head, “Yeah. You didn’t know they knew each other?”

You furrowed your brows at him. “And how do you know that?”

Jisung shyly raised his hand next to you, embarrassed that he was outed for spilling the details to his friends. “Sorry, that would be my fault.”

You turned slightly, mouth dropping at his face, “Oh. I didn’t mean it like that. I..I- That came out wrong. I’m not mad or anything, I was just shocked.”

You bit your lip feeling guilty about the way he responded.

“Anyways.” Jaemin interrupted the awkward silence. “We just wanted to say hi and stop by. Maybe we can all hang out and stuff and be neighborly.”

He grinned, looking around at the group.

“Right.” You nodded slowly, “Thanks for the cookies, and it was nice meeting you all.” There was a forced smile on your face, but none of the boys seemed to notice or care.

Eventually the boys filtered out one by one, and you closed the door, sighing against it.

“They were nice.” Alex said, taking a bite in a cookie. “Oooh, and these are hella good.”

“Yeah.” You mumbled, moving to sit on the couch.

“Why do you look like that? You don’t like them?” She asked, grabbing a glass for milk. “You and Jisung already know each other though. By the way, how do you know him?”

You rubbed your hand over his face. “It’s a long story.”

“Well, I have the rest of the day.” She sang back, taking a seat on the cushion next to you.

And so, now that Jisung was back in your life, you were left no choice to fill her in.

“Damn! That’s awkward as hell.” Her eyes were widened to the max.

“Yeah, I know. But I didn’t want them to feel super weird, cause you know, neighbors right? I just can’t believe my luck though.” You sighed leaning back, slouching down.

“Yeah, but do you like him though?” She asked, to which you whipped your head towards her.

“What?”

“Do you like him? I mean this could be really good for you. Actually it’s a win-win for everyone here. I can stop forcing you on blind dates and you can date the boy you’ve been pining after for years.” She shrugged like it was obvious.

“Okay, I have not been pining after him for years, and we’re not going to date just because I liked him two years ago. I mean, didn’t you get it from what I told you? He doesn’t like me.” You tried to shut her down.

“What are you talking about? Did you see him today? He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you.” You frowned at her observation. You didn’t remember it the way she did, every time you looked at him, which wasn’t that often, he was desperately trying to avoid eye contact.

“No he wasn’t.” You nevertheless blushed at the idea.

“Ooh, you’re blushing! Someone has a cru-ush!” She raised her voice, and you slapper her.

“Shut up, they’re right next door remember? They’re our neighbors.” She simply winked at you.

“And no I don’t.” You added as an afterthought.

The small restaurant was bustling with energy, something the boys loved.

“Dude, why haven’t we been here before?” Mark asked, eyes wide with excitement, smacking Haechan’s shoulder unnecessarily hard.

Haechan tried to move away from him, but to no avail.

“I told you, Jeno always said this place was pricey.” He muttered back, giving in when he realised Mark’s habit wasn’t disappearing anytime soon.

“We shouldn’t have trusted Jeno’s cheap ass.” Renjun snorted, “The prices here look decent.”

“Hey!” Jeno tried to defend himself. “I’m a college student, everything is expensive.”

Jaemin threw an arm over Jeno’s shoulder, trying to comfort him. “Let’s just grab a booth.”

As they trudged down the busy pathway, Jeno spotted a familiar face.

“Hey isn’t that Y/N?” Jeno asked, elbowing Jisung in the side. But Jisung was already aware of your presence, he had been the moment they stepped into the restaurant.

“Don’t point.” Renjun slapped the boy’s hand down.

“I wasn’t-”

“Shut up.”

“Wait… who’s that with her?” Jaemin asked the obvious, slurring his words at the end, as if just understanding the situation.

It seemed as if you were on a date, and Jisung’s heart dropped. It felt like his entire world came crashing down, like any and all hope he had in you went out the window.

Of course you would have a boyfriend, it’s been two years since you last talked, and it’s not like you were even an item. You texted for an hour.

Jisung closed his eyes for a second, but the picture was still searing in his brain. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if he told you that he liked you.

“I guess we didn’t think about that. That she could have a boyfriend.”

“Yeah, I mean it has been two years.” Mark nodded, agreeing with Jaemin.

“Guys, not helping.” Renjun said between gritted teeth.

Jisung bit his lip, silently running over the image of you.

Is that your boyfriend? How long had you been dating? Was it after he ran into you? If he asked you out then, would that be him?

He had so many questions he wanted answered, but he would never get them.

Chenle pulled his arm roughly, trying to drag him into the booth. “Jisung you’re staring. Try not to make it so obvious.” He teased.

Jisung quickly averted his eyes, choosing to sit where he could watch you from his seat. His stomach felt queasy, maybe that was a bad idea. Suddenly he lost his appetite at the sight of you smiling so widely at something funny your date had said.

Mark glanced up from his menu, staring at Jisung who was now downing his water. He elbowed Haechan who was concentrating on the menu.

“Dude, say something.” He hissed at him, trying to get Haechan to lift the mood. But for some reason, today of all days, he wasn’t having it.

Haechan just shrugged, shaking his head, “What do you want me to do?” Then he went back to his menu.

Mark bit his lip nervously, feeling uncomfortable at the sight of Jisung so anxious. He shot a look at Renjun who understood and at least tried to spark up conversation.

“So Jeno, who’d you come here with again?” He asked, an attempt at diverting attention from the elephant in the room.

“Uhh… some girl…” Jeno mumbled back, blushing furiously.

“Jeno’s blushing!” Chenle shouted out, his loud voice carrying across the restaurant.

This had Jisung cracking a smile.

“Dude, not so loud.” Jeno groaned out, sinking into his seat. He turned to glare at Renjun, “Did you have to bring that up?”

Renjun shrugged, but sent a small apologetic smile. ‘Sorry’ he mouthed at the embarrassed boy.

You had Chenle to thank for alerting you of the group’s presence. You pulled away from your conversation with Lucas and craned your head to get a glimpse of your neighbors.

“Do you know them?” Lucas asked, following your gaze.

“Oh, yeah, they’re my neighbors.” You said back, tearing your eyes from their booth.

“Yikes, they’re kind of loud.” He chuckled, “That must be rough on you.”

You gave him a smile, accompanied by your own giggle. “Lucas, in case you didn’t notice, you’re loud.”

He let out a fake gasp, holding his hand against his chest, “Me?”

You laughed, “Lucas, on our first date you thought we had so many complaints about the ‘loud dude in the booth’ that they asked us to leave.”

He frowned, “It’s not my fault my voice carries. And I have a very pleasant laugh, they should’ve been happy to hear it.” He pouted, “But we got ice cream to make up for it.”

You bit your lip, holding back your grin at the memory. “Yeah and it was freezing out.” You paused watching his expression, “But it’s never too cold for ice cream, besides, I wouldn’t have gotten your jacket out of it. And by the way, I’m keeping it. It’s soft.”

He smiled widely, immediately agreeing with you. “I’m just gonna use that excuse to see you again.”

You returned his sentiment, it wouldn’t be all that bad to meet Lucas again. You seemed to enjoy yourself every time you met.

“Oh. Jisung, hey.” You let out surprised.

“Hi.” He smiled at you shyly, staring back at you.

“Hi.” You blushed at the awkward tension between the two of you.

You turned and locked the door quietly before facing your neighbor again. “I was just heading out.”

“Right.” He mumbled, retreating back towards his apartment.

“I was going to the bookstore to pick up some things…” You trailed off, watching his expression, “If you’d like to come…?”

You immediately regretted your offer, ducking your head to hide your embarrassment. “You don’t have to, that was-”

“Sure.”

You froze, quickly snapping your head to meet his gaze.

“I uhh… have some things to take care of too.” He stumbled over his words to accept your offer.

“Oh, okay.” You smiled shyly at your feet, a strange feeling in your stomach turning.

You nodded in the direction of campus, trudging forward slowly at first to let him catch up. Soon enough the two of you were keeping pace.

A few minutes passed before Jisung cleared his throat, “So what are you getting from the bookstore?”

You nodded to yourself, “I have a textbook I ordered. It’s ridiculous isn’t it? How insanely overpriced it is, and it’s not like it’s even possible to pass the class without it. I mean I’m paying enough for college, now I have to pay on top of that.” You took a breath and chuckled nervously, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to rant on you.”

Jisung grinned at the way you were so worked up, “No not at all. I totally agree. It’s a rip off, I mean why not just make it part of tuition, we’re paying enough as it is.”

You nodded, “Right? It’s not right to make it required, like I could totally pirate it online, but if the professors make our homework using the online site to turn it in, that’s not even an option.”

You sighed exasperated, and missed the look on Jisung’s face. He seemed to enjoy the way you raved on about something as simple as a textbook.

You paused at the sound of his laughter from beside you, and you turned to look at him with a smile, enjoying the sound.

It was a fifteen minute walk to campus, and another five to the bookstore. And before you knew it the building was looming over your heads.

Jisung jogged a few paces before you, reaching for the door. You paused, watching as he stood aside, holding the door for you.

You blushed, perhaps, as they say, chivalry isn’t dead. “Thank you.”

You reached your hand up, pressing your cold fingers against your burning cheeks, an attempt to chase away the color.

“So which class is it for?” He asked, looking around, and thankfully not noticing your heated face.

“Economics.” You replied, lifting your head in search of your department.

The two of you wandered around for a few more moments, not searching particularly hard for the book in question.

“Look, introduction to Korean Pop Music.” He laughed, pointing at the textbook. “Can you believe there’s a whole course on that?”

You smiled, looking. “I dunno, it seems interesting. Besides, there’s classes for classical music, and pop music, why not K-pop?”

He nodded back, giving you a glance.

“Here, economics.” You mumbled out, walking down the long corridor. You ran your fingers along the spines of all the books, stopping at the familiar title. “Jesus, 98 dollars.”

He frowned, sidling up next to you.

Sighing you reluctantly pulled the book off the shelf. “Ready?”

Jisung looked at you under heavy brows.

“You’re going to get it?”

“It comes with the online version. I mean I have to get the online portion, might as well get the hardcopy for free with it.” You nodded towards the check out, stepping towards the staircase.

He followed in suit, stuffing his hands in his pocket. He ran into your back after you stopped abruptly, suddenly remembering something.

“Oh, didn’t you have to get a book?”

Jisung’s eyes widened, “Oh yeah.” At that moment he reached out and grabbed what seemed to be a random book from the closest table, but you chose to ignore it.

He raised the book, and gave you a smile.

Your eyebrows shot up, “Introduction to the female reproductive system?”

Jisung suddenly turned very pale, as he tried to play it off. “Yeah, ummm… for my biology class.”

You grinned, nodding like you believed him. But you chose to continue up the stairs, unable to watch as his face contorted. While you weren’t looking he quickly flipped over the cover, gulping at the sight of the price.

“80 dollars?” But he shook it off, trudging after you.

“Anything else for you?” A boy around the same age as you was checking you out.

“Nope, that should be it.” You smiled, fumbling around with your purse to find your wallet.

“Economics huh? Are you a ManEcon major?” He asked, leaning towards you slightly, ignoring Jisung who had arrived nearby.

You looked up from your bag, “Huh? Oh, yeah ManEcon. You?”

Your hand was still deep in your back when he replied. “Same, I’m a Junior, I managed to switch in last year.”

“Really?” You raised your eyebrows, “Was it difficult?”

“No, I mean I knew I wanted to switch early on, so I already was taking the classes I needed.”

You nodded back, “That makes sense. Have you taken macro yet? I’m signed up this quarter but I’m a little nervous.”

“I had Zeggert last quarter, she was pretty good.�� He smiled, nodding, “She likes it when people go into office hours, really tries to help.”

You cracked a smile of your own, “No way, I have Zeggert. Thank goodness, I’m definitely going to use her office hours a lot then.”

You took a moment to successfully dig out your wallet, sliding him your card.

“That’s good, well, I’m here basically all the time. So if you ever need help, you know where to find me.” He winked at you, returning the card.

You murmured out a quick thanks, and stepped aside to let Jisung pay for his books.

Jisung didn’t take long, and you noticed that he was particularly cold with the cashier, who in turn wasn’t nearly as friendly with him as he was with you.

“He was kind of flirting with you.” Jisung mumbled out, picking at the brand new spine of his unneeded textbook.

You glanced at him, stepping through the door that he once again held open, not knowing how to respond to him.

“Don’t you have a boyfriend?” He asked under his breath as you caught up beside him.

“What?” You shot him a puzzled look.

Jisung raised his eyebrows, “Your boy...friend?” He slowed his words, questioning them himself.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” You let out, not pausing in your steps. The same couldn’t be said for Jisung.

He jogged slightly to catch up. “But your date…?”

“My date?” You asked, now choosing to stop and face him. You shook your head, confused, “What date?”

“The- the guy you were with at the restaurant Wednesday.” He studied the sidewalk intently, flustered at his confession.

“You saw me?” You leaned down slightly, trying to catch his gaze.

“I-uh… I mean I didn’t mean to watch you. But we just happened to go to that restaurant.” He mumbled, choosing to walk forward and escape the situation, but you quickly caught up.

“He’s not my boyfriend, I mean, we were on a date, but he’s not my boyfriend.” You felt the need to defend yourself, or at least clear things up. Although you didn’t know why you felt the need.

“Oh. A date.” He mumbled. He was overjoyed at the fact that you weren’t dating anyone, but couldn’t help but be disappointed at the mention of a date. From what he remembered, you seemed to be enjoying yourself then.

The silence grew until you reached your doorstep. It had taken Jisung fifteen minutes to decide, fifteen minutes to pluck up the courage he needed.

“How about a date with me?” Although he refused to meet your eyes, you felt the genuinity.

Part 2

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dizzydancingdreamer · 4 years ago

Text

Persephone's Symphony | Day One | Persephone

Hey lovelies— so as per my usual shenanigans I've decided this will have no schedule and that I will play god to my own creation because what is life without some chaos? The pros are you might not have to wait a week between updates, the cons are you might have to wait a week between updates. In all seriousness, please enjoy my lovelies!

Synopsis: In which he is the bad one— the dangerous one, the clunky one, the one who only knows how to break things— and she is the good one— the fragile one, the soft one, the one who knows how to put things back together— and he has to keep her alive long enough for anyone else— anyone who can do more than kill— to save her like she deserves to be saved— to save her from him. There are no pomegranates, no three headed dogs, and no requirement to stay— that is, if they don’t count an assassin on the loose out for her neck. In that case, three days in a safe house doesn’t feel like a long time— just long enough for Persephone and Hades to remember why opposites attract.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader (third person)

Warnings: Mentions of death, at times semi-graphic, eventual smut

Word count: 3.1k

Previous | Next

Master List

She can’t hear what the man in the truck says to him— the walls of this house are surprisingly thick. She supposes that’s a good thing. It means she will be able to go about her days normally while cooped up here. Well, as normal as possible. She doubts she’ll be able to get away with her three am rom-com marathons and ice-cream binges. She doubts she’ll get away with screaming in her sleep— and in the shower and at the breakfast table and when doing any, little thing that makes her remember that her life is one, constant nightmare.

It’s only three days— all she has to do is stay awake for three days.

While his head— her body guard’s head— is turned she leans against the kitchen sink, inching back the white lace curtain for what feels like the hundredth time. It’s like a little game at this point. She peeks at him, his eyes snap to hers, and she squeals and drops the curtain. Thank god the walls are thick. It’s almost unnerving how tuned he is to every little movement— not almost, it is unnerving but she supposes that is what makes him a good fit for this job. A good fit for keeping her alive. Like she has been doing for months now, she ignores the way her chest squeezes painfully.

Through the little strip of window that she allows for herself, she traces over his features one last time. Cropped black hair, a square jaw, at least two days worth of stubble. He looks like a bodyguard— rough, dangerous, manly— and that’s before taking into account the sheer size of the man. She is on her tiptoes, one hand pushing against the stainless steel below her for dear life, and she still has to crane her neck to properly see his face. She refuses to let her eyes wander any further than that— she had already glimpsed at the rest of him when he had made the short walk from the truck to the house. She already knows he’s massive.

His eyebrow twitches and she drops the curtain— she may not be as fast as he is but she’s a quick learner. Had she held the curtain open longer she is sure his eyes would have flicked to hers again. Those are the rules of the game, after all. She hears a muted thumping and the door handle jiggle from across the room, spinning towards the faded farmhouse door. She watches as the door handle turns, her throat tight, wondering where all the air in the room went— it was there a second ago.

The door pushes open and she jumps away from the sink, only just realizing what it’ll look like if he comes inside to her still hunched over the window. Of course, he’s already seen her but that’s beside the point. Part of the game is not talking about the game. A boot comes into view— the black, military grade kind— and it hits her like a punch to the gut that this is real— there really is someone out there trying to kill her. Now she really can’t breath. She can only force her lungs to expand to draw in some oxygen before her bodyguard finds her sprawled in an unconscious heap on the ground.

The boot is quickly followed by a leg, which is then, by default, followed by a torso and a head. A head that turns and watches her freeze, red handed like a bandit, in the middle of the kitchen. Gods, she should have just kept leaning against the sink— this is worse! Her hands are up and everything, shot out in front of her like she’s about to jump him or something. Yes, her— the girl currently in a hoodie that pools around her legs, displaying her knobby knees and bad posture— about to jump him— the man who had to practically duck to get through the doorway. She could laugh. In fact, she almost wishes he would laugh at her. She wishes he would do anything but look at her with that blank expression and those ice blue eyes.

“Uhm—” she blinks, trying to think of something to say other than holy shit you’re a giant— which, for the record, is what she wants to say— “hi?”

Are you serious, y/n?

He tilts his head at her and she almost cries. Not the same fear ridden, heartbroken, panicky cries of late. More so the awkward, why the fuck would you say that to the man charged with keeping you alive brand of cries. The normal kind. She drops her hands to her sides, slipping them into the pouch of her hoodie and tangling her fingers together. She can only allow herself to display one embarrassing thing at a time.

The man stays silent for a moment, each second of which makes her cheeks flame hotter and hotter, before finally opening his mouth. “Hi.”

Her chest deflates— some of the heat subsiding. He copied her. Whether purposefully or mockingly it alleviates some of the stupidity she’s feeling. She takes a few steps backwards, her bare feet pittering rather loudly over the worn hardwood. Well, that didn’t last long— there’s that embarrassment again.

“I’m y/n,” she squeaks out— gods, is Mickey Mouse in the building? “I guess you already know that though, huh?”

It was a stroke of genius putting her hands in her pocket— at least now he can’t see the way they shake furiously. She has to resist smashing her head against the sink. Nothing about this situation is optimal, to say the very least. Here she is making small talk with a man who could tear her in half. Her eyes drift to where his red henley pulls taut around his biceps— are they bigger than her head?

“James—” her eyes flick back up, face hotter than the sun, both from her blatant staring and the deep gravel of his voice— “but most people call me Bucky.”

Her eyes widen. She doesn’t know why, probably because she’s an idiot or because she isn’t expecting him to say more than three words. He seems like the strong, silent type. Maybe that is just the rom-coms though. Maybe her brain is just mush now.

“Okay,” she all but whispers, backing further into the sink. His piercing eyes have yet to leave her— something which makes her knees knock together and fingers clench. “Which should I call you?”

He tenses, his dark eyebrows pulling together, and she has to swallow the bile that rises in her throat. It’s day one and she’s already offending him. She pulls her lip between her teeth, biting down until the tangy, metallic taste that she has grown too familiar with these past months floods her mouth. She tells herself that she does it to keep from cursing. Lying to herself is another game she likes to play.

The longer he remains quiet, the more she regrets asking the question. His blue eyes are still latched on her, drifting over the space between her eyes and her busted lip, but somehow they also seem miles away. She can’t tell if he’s looking at her— seeing her— or if he’s seeing something else entirely. It isn’t until she pushes off the counter, taking a hesitant step forward, her foot slapping against the wood like it’s trying to embarrass her again, that he blinks. She pulls one of her hands from the puddle that is her hoodie, sliding it over her hair. Can he see the way it shakes?

Probably.

“Nevermind, forget I asked. It was a dumb ques—”

“Bucky,” the word is rushed out, falling over her own stuttered babbling. He slows after that, his face remaining stoic but his cheeks dusting with the slightest hint of pink. “Call me Bucky.”

She doesn’t point it out— she doesn’t have a death wish. Her being here right now, standing across from a literal giant, barefoot and shaking, is proof enough of that. Instead she nods gently, lowering her hand slowly. He’s not going to attack her— he isn’t a wolf— but still she takes the precaution. Better safe than sorry.

“Bucky it is then.”

He nods stiffly and she pretends like it doesn’t make her hands shake harder. She waits for him to speak, eyes drifting over the blue cupboards and the breakfast nook, taking in the applications of the home and trying not to scream. She feels so out of place, not used to the warmth in the room— the lingering smell of yeast and the flowers in the vase on the table. She used to bake all the time. Now she can barely bring herself to microwave frozen dinners. The sun that filters through the crack in the curtains and lands against her cheek feels like pure fire. She spends her days in the dark— she wouldn’t be surprised if she was allergic to the sun itself now. Allergic to all the things she used to enjoy.

The silence is too much— she has to speak to keep her throat from closing. If she doesn’t then it may not open again.

“So—” she draws the word out, her eyes flopping to the floor where her toe scuffs against a particularly worn board— “we just kinda follow each other around then?”

His face doesn’t change, his lips remaining in the same, expressionless line— a master of one trade. “Pretty much. I follow you.”

“And make sure I don’t die.” She fills the rest in— there’s no point not to. He’s definitely seen the pictures.

Finally his expression shifts, his lips pressing together tersely. It’s an answer in it’s own right— he pities her. He shifts his weight between his feet, the floorboards creaking below him. It could just be her but the sound slices through the room— loud and unforgiving— and she can’t stop the way she flinches. He freezes, obviously noticing her reaction. She almost slaps herself. Leave it to her to make an already tense situation worse. Is it going to be this awkward the entire time?

“You’re not going to die.” His voice is softer than his boots, barely reaching her ears as it cuts through the rigid atmosphere.

She doesn’t know what to say— how do she tell her bodyguard that she doesn’t believe him? He’s supposed to be the one saving her life. It feels risky to suggest that he wouldn’t be able to do that. Like telling the universe that she wants to die. She doesn’t want to die. It’s just hard not to think about death when it follows her everywhere she goes. For twenty-four years she was just y/n. Now look at her.

The queen of death.

She doesn’t know what to say so instead she changes the subject.

“Are you hungry?”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

She makes grilled cheese for lunch. It is nothing special but the smell of the butter alone makes the energy she has to scrape together to make them worth it. She can’t remember the last time she cooked like this— the last time she tasted anything but freezer burnt macaroni and lumpy gravy. A couple times she almost drops the spatula, her fingers not used to having to be so coordinated, but the promise of melted cheddar has her fighting through the tremors. That and the audience of one, standing next to her with his arms crossed like he’s judging her culinary skills rather than looking for snipers.

It’s all in her head. That’s what she tells herself at least.

“You want extra cheese?”

She can feel Bucky’s eyes on the side of her face— is there something on her cheek? “Sure.”

It’s all in her head.

She flips the sandwiches, watching as the fluffy white bread is replaced with a perfect, golden brown toast. Her stomach growls, the sound somehow louder than the sizzling pan in her hand. The scream bubbles in her throat again— fuck. Why must everything she does be so humiliating? Why can’t she just keep it together for three days!

“Bacon?” Cue the voice crack.

“Bacon?” He repeats the word back like he hasn’t the faintest clue what a pig is— like somehow he’s a giant of a man but has never touched a piece of meat in his entire life.

Like it’s the dumbest question he has ever been asked. She swallows— hard— her cheeks pooling with heat again. She’s starting to wonder if it ever even left. If he asks she’ll blame it on the steam rising off the pan or her hoodie or both. But he won’t ask— he won’t speak until he has to. It did not take her long to gather that fact.

“You’ve never had bacon on grilled cheese?” It feels like he’s glaring at her.

It’s all in her damn head.

The floorboards groan underneath Bucky again and instead of flinching this time she tries to imagine what they might be saying. Save me, he’s crushing me! She flicks her eyes down, glancing at those military grade boots and then at her own toes, tiny and feeble compared to the size of his gear. One wrong step and her foot would likely be broken. She isn’t too worried about that though— he seems careful. His movements thus far have been slow and calculated, skirting around her and leaving at least a few feet between them at all times. Maybe that isn’t to keep from stepping on her though— maybe he just doesn’t like her. She wouldn’t blame him.

“You say it like that’s unheard of.” He doesn’t say it angrily but there’s no exuberance in his voice either— just the monotone she’s come to expect. It’s been one hour and she can already see how the next seventy-one are going to play out.

“Where I’m from it is.”

There’s a pause— the sound of butter crackling against the pan and of the steady picking up of rain against the kitchen window as it eats away at the sunshine— and she’s expecting the conversation to drop there. He isn’t there to entertain her, after all. That’s what the TV is for— what Leonardo DiCaprio is for.

But then there’s an answer. “Where are you from?”

The corner of her mouth lifts— an action so foreign she can practically see the dust shedding from her rusty smile— and she turns from the frypan long enough to meet his icy eyes and to throw out an arm, putting the front of her hoodie on display for the stoic man.

“SoCal.”

Her mouth lifts higher when Bucky raises an eyebrow, nodding slowly. He could be mocking her but she chooses to believe he’s interested. She chooses to believe that they are making progress and that she won’t have to spend three days talking to the walls. She turns back to the sandwiches, flipping them for the last time before laying down a few strips of bacon next to them.

She isn’t expecting him to keep going but she also isn’t complaining when his voice tickles her ears again. “Caltech, huh? S’that Pasadena?”

She tries to keep her smile from morphing into a full blown grin— she isn’t sure if her poor lips would be able to handle it. It’s been too long since she last used her mouth this much; both for smiling and talking. “Yes sir— born and raised.”

He hums and she watches from the corner of her eye as he leans to the window, peering out of it for a moment. There’s no one out there— at least she strongly doubts there is. This place is in the middle of nowhere. She hasn’t even heard a car since the truck that dropped Bucky off drove away. It’s supposed to be peaceful. She doesn’t see it. All she sees is the dreadful but necessary silence— at least hopefully that way they’ll hear someone coming.

“How about you? Where are you from—” she flips the bacon, pushing it around the pan, her mouth watering at the thought of the greasy, gooey goodness she’s about to consume— “You mind finding some plates?”

She hears him rummage through the cupboard above his head— well, above her head, in front of his— before two mismatched pieces of dishware appear before her nose. Grabbing them, she lets the corners of her lips tick up just the tiniest bit further.

“Indiana— but spent most of my time in Brooklyn.”

“It shows.” She muses, not turning to see whether or not he appreciates the comment.

It’s true regardless— she can hear some of the mannerisms of New York in his voice. Not many. He hasn’t said enough for her to truly gauge just how strong his accent is. Still it’s there, in the gruffness of his tone, just like she’s sure the SoCal shines through in her. At least it normally does— lately she hasn’t exactly been the picture of sunshine.

She removes the sandwiches from the pan, layering them carefully onto the plates. After staring at them for a moment she settles on the one that she wants, handing Bucky the bigger of the two. It’s only fair— he could probably eat at least four. She watches as the giant gives it a glance, rolling her eyes when he hesitantly lifts it to his lips, taking the smallest of bites. Is he afraid of a sandwich?

“I promise I’m not trying to poison you— I need you to stay alive, remember?”

He only grunts.

She has to turn away when he takes a bigger bite, her eyes refusing to detach themselves from his lips. Unprofessional and inappropriate. The orphan and the bodyguard. She takes a bite of her own sandwich, shoving the thought to the back of her mind and replacing it with the heavenly taste of gooey cheese, melted butter, and greasy bacon. She doesn’t have to dissect the thoughts of her delicious food like she would have to the other ones. Cheese doesn’t require a checklist about whether or not her grief quota is up to code. Clearly it’s not— clearly she’s just sick in the head. She takes another bite.

The two eat in silence for a couple minutes, the tension in the room melting for the first time since she introduced herself. Thank gods for cheese.

After a few more moments Bucky sets his plate down, turning back to the window. At first she thinks she is hearing things— like her mind is now also playing tricks on her as well as making her feel like a terrible person— but then it registers and she has to fight back another inappropriate smile.

“You were right about the bacon.”

Maybe three days won’t be so bad.

____________

Tag List: @xhollycowx @remembered-license

#Bucky Barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky fic #bucky imagine #mcu fic #mcu imagine #marvel cinematic universe fic #marvel cinematic universe #Persephone's Symphony

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blossom-hwa · 4 years ago

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Skipping Stones - KEVIN

This was the second full scenario I ever finished for The Boyz and I think it was pretty nice to start with some soft Kevin :D THANK YOU KAI FOR LETTING ME YELL TO YOU ABOUT THIS ONE I HOPE IT LIVES UP TO YOUR EXPECTATIONS.

Anyway! Happy (slightly early but only by a couple hours??) birthday to one of the best boys in the world, the one and only wonderful beautiful lovely Kevin Moon! I hope you all enjoy this <3 please reblog if you did!

Pairing: Kevin x gender neutral!reader

Genre: fluff, teacher!au

Triggers: cursing, alcohol

Word Count: 7.8k

Falling in love with you, Kevin thinks, is a bit like skipping stones.

Alternatively:

Five times Kevin felt himself falling deeper in love with you, and the one time he knew he was gone.

TBZ Masterlist | Touching Stars | Breathe, and Live

prelude.

Kevin knows he exists to be clowned. His sister says it’s something about his face – there’s something undeniably meme-y about his reactions, apparently, that makes him very clownable. His students tell him it’s in his demeanor – he comes off as pretty chill, according to them, which makes him easy to tease because they know he’ll react in some hilarious way, but it won’t affect him too deeply.

(Changmin just says he’s stupid, which makes him clownable to the highest degree, but Kevin refuses to take information from the teacher who still scares him every other week with whichever horror movie mask has recently caught his fancy.)

So Kevin knows he’s just a clownable human being, and he’s resigned himself to that fate for the rest of his life. But around you? His calm, collected, hilarious, wonderful partner? He expected a little less clownery and a little more loving.

“Oh, come on,” you laugh, trying to get Kevin to turn around. Honestly, he’s already feeling the effects of withdrawal from not seeing your smile for more than a few minutes, but he refuses to budge, lips curved downwards in a semi-permanent pout. He knows he won’t be able to keep this up for long (he’ll miss looking at your face too much, and really, he can’t be mad at you about anything), but he can make a scene. “Kevin!”

“You’re so mean,” he whines, still resisting your efforts to make him look at you. “I just poured out a very embarrassing part of my childhood to you and instead of comforting me, you laugh?” His pout deepens. “I don’t know why we’re dating.”

Your hands leave the back of his shoulders. For a second, Kevin thinks you’ve given up and he’s about to start whining about that too, but then you appear in front of him, fingers clasped placatingly. “All right, all right, Kevin.” Still grinning, you grab his hands. “I won’t tease anymore. But seriously, how could you expect me not to laugh my ass off when you told me you learned to skip stones for the –” you make jazz hands, presumably to emphasize your point – “aesthetic?”

Kevin sticks his lip out childishly. “I didn’t think it was that funny,” he mumbles.

“It’s not, not really.” You squeeze his hands. “But it’s a move that’s got Kevin Moon stamped all over it.” As if to accentuate your point, you snort. “Of course you’d learn to skip stones for the aesthetic.”

“Y/N,” he whines.

“Fine, fine, I’ll stop.” Your teasing grin melts into an eager smile. “Hey, teach me?”

“Right now?”

“Why not?”

It feels like Kevin’s physically crumbling to pieces with the way your hopeful voice and sparkling eyes just attack him from all angles. Grudgingly, the deep pout on his lips stretches into a smile, the starstruck smile that all of his friends like to tease him for. “Fine, let’s go.”

He spends the rest of the afternoon stepping around small children and younger couples, trying to find suitable rocks for skipping and teaching you the right angles, the right stance, the right way to hold the stone in your hand before sending it into the water. You learn fast, something he envies – where it took him at least a couple of weeks to perfect the art, you (mostly) pick it up in a matter of hours – but he can’t feel too jealous or too bad when you look up at him after your stone skips once on the water. “Kevin, I did it!” You shake him slightly. “Did you see that?”

The softest smile spreads across Kevin’s face as he kisses your forehead softly “Yeah, I did.”

When he pulls away, you give him the brightest grin before scrambling away to find more stones to skip. Kevin just watches, taking in the way your figure looks against the setting sun, bright gold and pale pink light streaming over your body, almost making you glow.

This is why he fell in love with you, he thinks. Your character, your tenacity, the way you throw yourself into every task you’ve been assigned so that you can complete it as best as you can. It doesn’t matter if you’re trying to treat a new cancer case at the hospital or trying to skip a stupid rock across the water. You always give it your all.

Idly, Kevin picks up a stone of his own. With a practiced flick of his wrist, it goes sailing onto the lake, skipping three, four, five times before sinking beneath the surface.

Falling in love with you is a bit like skipping stones, he thinks, watching the stone disappear from sight. Someone had to force him into that first blind date with you, much like making the first toss of the stone into the water, but every skip after that was quick, effortless, the way he felt himself falling for you, step by stumbling step, until his heart finally gave in and sank below the waves of your warmth.

It’s hard to imagine a time when he wasn’t in love with you, even though such a time did at one point exist. But the way you make him feel with the smallest things you do – the way you scrunch your eyebrows in confusion, the way you rest your chin on your hand in thought – it feels like he’s known you for an eternity and loved you even longer, loved you before time existed.

Your stone skips twice across the water and you shout with joy, racing up to Kevin to celebrate. He catches you when you leap at him, arms wrapping around your waist automatically, smiling into your shining face. Yes, he thinks, he’s in love.

He’s so in love with you.

. . . . .

Kevin, by all definitions of the word, is panicking.

He’s been dreading this blind date for almost a month now, circling the day on his calendar and marking it D-Day, begging Jacob and Changmin to come along and hide in case he needs to be bailed out, relentlessly praying that he’ll be able to leave the stupid date in one piece.

(Look, as much as he appreciates Mrs. Park’s kindness and her brownies, she can be… a little overbearing. To say the least.)

Just a few hours ago, he was putting on his yellow sweater and bemoaning the existence of his pushy coworker. Just a few hours ago, he was lamenting his fate to his two friends (friends is a term he will use loosely for today – all they did was laugh at him). Just a few hours ago, he was cursing the existence of Mrs. Park and her brownies for getting him locked into this date with her sister’s kid. Wait, was it her sister? Or her brother?

(“Yes, her sister,” Changmin says, rolling his eyes. “Pay more attention, won’t you, Kev?”

Kevin groans. “Why couldn’t either of you be chosen by Mrs. Park, huh? Why me?”

“Because I have a partner and Jacob is good at disappearing.” Changmin grins that evil, evil grin he always has on just before he’s about to execute a prank on someone (usually Kevin).

“More like the two of you are good at leaving me to fend for myself against Mrs. Park, even though you know I can’t say no to shit,” Kevin grumbles.

“Give up her brownies,” Jacob suggests.

Kevin gasps. “No way in hell.”)

But now, he’s actually sitting across from you in a café not too far from his apartment, holding a cup of coffee between his (visibly shaking) hands. And he can’t even think of why he was dreading this date so much because you’re just… really, really perfect.

Why are you so sweet? he’s screaming inside. Why are you so funny? Why are you literally the perfect mix of snark and kindness and just – everything?

“So my aunt told me you work with her,” you say, seemingly oblivious to Kevin’s jitters. The smile on your face is really sending electricity racing through his heart. “I know the children must be fun, but I know she can be a bit… overbearing.” There’s a hint of apology in your eyes, like you know your aunt must have pressured him into this and you’re sorry that he had to come on a date with you.

Kevin’s stomach flip-flops. Okay, so Mrs. Park maybe did severely pressure and sweetly blackmail Kevin into a blind date. But Kevin also doesn’t want you to feel bad for it because it’s not your fault at all, so as usual, when he finds himself in a tight spot, his mouth decides it’s time to run.

“No, your aunt is really nice,” he starts. “I really mean it – she’s always very kind to the kids and to the rest of us teachers. I’m still kind of new compared to the rest of them – I’ve only been at the school for a few years now – but she helped me feel welcome that first year when I was still figuring things out. And she also likes Beyonce! You know, the greatest female artist there is? She let me play my entire playlist of Beyonce songs for her last year and she liked every single one of them!”

Kevin’s babbling now. Rambling. Whatever he wants to call it. His brain is screaming for him to stop talking but his mouth won’t stop running because this is what he does when he’s nervous. He talks. Endlessly.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the table where Changmin and Jacob are situated in case they need to rescue him from mental or physical harm. The top of Changmin’s head is barely visible behind a huge menu so Kevin can barely see his friend, but somewhere in his babbling haze, he notices a phone camera poking out from behind the menu.

If he wasn’t blushing before, he definitely is now.

Finally, his mouth listens to his brain and he trails off on his last thought on why Beyonce is the best artist in the entire world. There’s a second of silence.

“Sorry,” Kevin finally squeaks. “I… tend to ramble when I get nervous. Or when I talk about Beyonce.”

Your smile flashes even wider. Kevin is torn between wanting to melt into the ground out of embarrassment and staying upright to keep seeing that grin on your face.

“Don’t be sorry,” you laugh, fiddling with your cup of coffee. “I thought it was cute.”

Kevin’s face burns so much that he misses what you say next. “Sorry?”

You grin. “I’m always interested in hearing about a new artist to add to my playlist.”

Kevin lets out a theatrical gasp. “You don’t have Beyonce in your music library?”

A sheepish look spreads across your face. “… No?”

“Oh my God.” Kevin pulls out his phone. “Okay, I’m about to educate you on the artist of our time.”

The afternoon, then, passes in a flash. Changmin and Jacob eventually just up and exit the café (presumably with enough blackmail to last the rest of Kevin’s life – he knows he was acting like a complete fool, but luckily, you didn’t seem to care), leaving him alone with you. Under any other circumstances, he probably would’ve started crying, but you’re so sweet and so interesting that Kevin thinks he could stay and talk to you in this café forever.

He learns you’re an oncologist at a nearby children’s hospital, that even though the work is hard and tiring and sometimes overwhelmingly depressing, the strength of the children and the families you work with inspire you to keep going every day. He learns that you don’t have too much of a sweet tooth (though you won’t say no to ice cream or cheesecake, both of which he notes in his head), he learns that you love coffee, and he learns that you like to take walks in the park whenever you have a little bit of free time.

He also learns that you’re snarky, intelligent, driven, hardworking. He learns that you’re something far beyond the beauty of your face – that underneath your skin, there’s a heart that’s warmer than the sun.

Kevin understands that this is only the first date and that he maybe shouldn’t be making judgments so quickly. But he’s been told that he’s a relatively good judge of character, and the genuine look in your eyes when you talks speaks volumes about the person deep inside.

Even though you live further away, Kevin takes the bus with you to your home, citing that it’s only polite to walk one’s date to the door (in reality, he just wants to spend a little more time with you). As the bus rattles along the road, Kevin lets you listen to the songs on his phone, delighting in the way your head bobs to the beat of his favorite tracks.

Kevin’s a bit sad when you reach your apartment, sad that your time together is over for the day. He lingers outside the building for a moment, trying to work up the courage to ask about a second date.

Suddenly, you lean forward. Kevin jerks back – he briefly wonders if you’re trying to kiss him – but you just pat a spot on his sweater, frowning slightly at your fingers. “Is that… paint?”

Oh my God.

Kevin tugs the material of his sweater forward so he can see the spot you’re pointing at. Sure enough, there’s a small patch of red paint on the yellow fuzz. He groans. “I didn’t even notice.”

“Well, that’s what people like us get for working with children.” You roll your eyes comically, and Kevin bursts into laughter that’s definitely too loud for the small joke you made. Then silence falls again.

You break it. “Listen, Kevin.”

He perks up. “Hmm?”

“I’ll admit, I wasn’t exactly looking forward to this date because my aunt has been trying to set me up with people my age for several years now.” For the first time today, you look shy. “She was probably really pushy with you too, so I’m sorry about that. But I really enjoyed this afternoon.” You meet Kevin’s eyes. “If you’d like, I’d love to go on a second date.”

Kevin’s heart explodes. It really does. Sheer excitement courses through his veins, and he has to stop himself from smiling widely enough to mimic a god damn clown. “I’d love that,” he says trying to hide how eager he really is. “Um, I’ll say that I wasn’t exactly looking forward to this either, mostly because my experience with blind dates has had… limited success. But I’m really glad I met you. You’re a wonderful person.”

Your smile grows wider at Kevin’s admission. “Thank you, Kevin. You’re wonderful too.”

“Do you kiss on the first date?” he blurts out because his brain has no filter. Then he backtracks. “Um, it’s totally okay if you don’t, I was just asking, please don’t think I’m a creep –”

You briefly press your lips to his. Kevin shuts up.

When you break away, Kevin honestly thinks you’re glowing. “Does that answer your question?” you ask, bravely trying to hide something – is that embarrassment? Whatever it is, he thinks it’s adorable.

Kevin blushes. “Yes.”

People probably think he’s insane with the way he’s smiling on the bus ride back to his apartment. He can’t help it, though – the tingling touch of your lips, gentle against his, plays over and over in his mind, along with memories of your lovely voice and your lovely smile and your lovely, lovely disposition. Some people are giving him weird looks, and Jacob and Changmin are sure to tease him to no end when he comes in to work tomorrow.

But who cares? Kevin’s got a second date in the works with one of the most wonderful people he’s ever met.

In his mind, he’s on top of the world.

. . . . .

ii.

Usually, when Kevin gets lucky and scores a second date or a third, he suggests taking his date somewhere with children to gauge how they feel about small toddlers tearing up the place. Children are a huge part of Kevin’s life – he teaches elementary school and knows he wants kids when he gets a bit older – so one of the silent standards he’s set for potential significant others is that they have to like and be good with children.

You work at a children’s hospital, Kevin knows, so you must at least be good with kids, even if you might not like them (hey, it’s possible – Kevin has known many people who are good at things they hate). That fulfills half of the standard. He just needs to gauge the other half.

There aren’t many events at the school coming up, though – no plays, no art exhibitions, nothing he can really invite you to. He’s racking his brains for a third date somehow involving children when you unexpectedly call him about an event at the hospital.

“I know it’s last minute,” you apologize profusely, “but the guy who was supposed to come today for the kids’ music hour called in sick. I don’t want to cancel the event because they always look forward to it and I know you play the piano – would it be possible for you to fill in?”

It is possible, it turns out. He may not be able to pack his Yamaha upright into the back of your car, but he does have an electronic keyboard that fits into your trunk. The whole way there, you’re apologizing, but between reassurances that it’s totally fine, Kevin can’t help but anticipate how you’ll act around the children once the two of you arrive.

Setting up takes more time than he’d like (the extension cord that comes with his keyboard is too short, so you disappear on a twenty-minute manhunt for a longer one while Kevin just stands there awkwardly), which makes him feel slightly like a burden on the rest of your coworkers. They’re so polite, though, so genuine and kind, that Kevin eventually starts to feel more at ease.

(He’s still endlessly grateful when you return, extension cord clasped victoriously in one hand.)

Then the kids start trickling in, and Kevin’s heart immediately both breaks and melts. Some are in wheelchairs, others have lost their hair, but they’re all smiling with so much excitement, chattering to their parents and the staff around them as they settle on beanbags and pillows on the floor. Several look at him curiously and he smiles at them, prompting several questions about who he is, why there’s a keyboard and not a guitar, and why the normal guy isn’t here.

“The usual guy got sick and couldn’t come,” Kevin says to one sweet girl with chubby cheeks and shining eyes. “I’m just here to replace him for a day.”

“Do you play the piano?” she asks, shyly pointing at the keyboard, which more than a few curious souls are standing around.

Kevin smiles. “Yes, I do.” He would say more, maybe offer to show her the instrument a little, but then you’re walking over, and her eyes brighten. “Dr. L/N!” she cheers.

With a loud laugh, you swoop her up carefully, cradling the girl against your shoulder. “How are you, Daeun?” you ask, lips spread in a smile that Kevin knows can’t be faked.

The girl – Daeun – grins. “I’ve been good!” she announces proudly. “Are we going to start soon?”

You laugh again, settling her back down on the floor. Kevin thinks his heart melts with the way your eyes sparkle. “Yes, we are,” you say. “I see you’ve already met Kevin?”

“Your name is Kevin?” Daeun looks at him curiously. “Your name is strange.”

Kevin has to force himself not to coo. “I was born in Canada,” he says. “My Korean name is Hyungseo.”

Daeun’s nose scrunches. “I like Kevin more,” she decides with finality.

Kevin feels brave enough to pat her on the head. “Then you can call me Kevin.”

“All right, Daeun. Go find your mom, okay? Kevin and I are going to finish setting up, and then we’ll get started.” With a soft kiss on the forehead (Kevin makes a sound he really hopes you don’t hear – the scene is just too adorable), you send the small girl off, turning back to Kevin. “Shall we get started?” you ask, grinning widely.

It may only be the third date, but he’s falling in love, Kevin thinks, falling in love with your shining face and sparkling eyes, with the way you shower love upon the children you’ve placed under your care. Right now, you’re everything he’s ever wanted in a future partner – beautiful in character, kind, gentle, fiercely loving.

His heart pounds a little faster.

Belatedly, Kevin realizes you’re waiting for a response and nods quickly. “Yeah,” he breathes, eyes glancing over the sea of children waiting (somewhat) patiently. A smile to rival yours spreads across his face. “Let’s get started.”

. . . . .

iii.

Kevin loves the last Friday of every month, he really does. It’s been tradition for several years now to go out with Changmin and Jacob on what he calls nights for “the boyz” to eat cheap food and get drunk. And no matter how much the others complain about the stupid name (Kevin will admit it sounds stupid now, but that doesn’t mean he’ll change it), he knows they enjoy the nights all the same.

Sometimes, though, Kevin just wishes he had more of a filter on his mouth. If not that, then maybe his brain could stop remembering every single dumb thing he said or did on drunk nights out. It would make his life a lot easier if he could just forget being stupid.

But no, God decided to be mean when making Kevin Moon. So Kevin, as a result, is an emotional drunk. He cries a lot when he hears about sad or adorable things, he says a lot of stupid stuff to (badly) express his overwhelming feelings, and worst of all, he remembers all of it when he wakes up hungover the next morning.

(None of this stops him from getting drunk anyway. Kevin Moon doesn’t learn lessons when it comes to alcohol. When he falls on his face (sometimes literally), he just gets up again, even if it’s with a bloody nose.)

Luckily, the night doesn’t end in chaos. Even though Jacob, who’s half of Kevin’s impulse control, leaves after an hour (he’s meeting with his family the next day, so Kevin is obligated call him a noob – it’s like a law of physics or something), Changmin doesn’t seem to be in the mood to do weird things without Jacob there to stop him, so the night passes relatively smoothly without Kevin throwing, like, a tantrum or anything.

He gets close, though. Because damn, if Changmin isn’t so fucking adorable when talking about his partner. Buried in his purple hoodie, black hair peeking softly over the top, it’s impossible for Kevin not to tear up when Changmin begins gushing over his beautiful, amazing, wonderful significant other whom he just compared to stardust.

Stardust.

Kevin wants to scream, that’s so romantic.

When you come to pick him and Changmin up, Kevin can’t resist relaying all of this to you as soon as he gets in the car. Vaguely, he thinks he should be worried about Changmin hearing it and hitting him, but the boy is mostly asleep in the back, eyes only fluttering slightly when you go over a bump or something. After Changmin gets dropped off at his apartment, Kevin turns the gushing on full force.

“Y/N, the love of my life, he called her stardust,” he’s still babbling even as you strongarm him up to his own apartment. “He’s so adorable. Changmin is so adorable. Oh my God.”

He thinks you snort. Probably. It would be a normal response. “Didn’t you call him the spawn of Satan just a few days ago?”

Definitely a snort, Kevin thinks, but he’s too invested in Changmin’s loveliness to whine about you making fun of him. “Y/N,” he pouts instead, “listen to meeeeee.”

“I’m listening, I’m listening.” You grunt, catching him just as he misses the next step and almost falls forward. “Hey, be careful.”

“’M trying.” Kevin manfully does his best to stop the world from tilting on its side. “But Changminnie.”

“Yes, yes, Changminnie.” Even drunk, Kevin can make out the playful exasperation in your voice. “Keep going.”

“Thank you, love of my life.” Kevin tries to give you a kiss but his lips hit air instead of your cheek. “Heck.”

You burst into loud laughter. “Kevin Moon, you never told me you were this adorable when drunk.”

“Changminnie,” he says more insistently.

“Okay, yes, I’m listening.” You kiss his cheek instead, and Kevin almost topples over right then and there. “Hey, you can’t fall over whenever I kiss you. Tell me about Changmin.”

Kevin starts flailing his arms around as best he can. “He’s so cute!” he half-yells. “He told me his partner was like stardust because she’s so perfect and warm, but she’s also like stardust because… because…”

His lip juts out.

“Oh, no, don’t cry, Kev.” You stop moving, then Kevin registers you bundling him into a hug, patting his head. “I know you’re a sad emotional drunk, but don’t cry.”

“Not crying,” Kevin protests, visibly crying.

“Mhm.” You pat his head one last time before letting go. “Hey, give me a second, I’m going to unlock your door.”

There’s some fumbling and a quiet snick, then Kevin obediently follows you through the door of his apartment. Once inside, you press a thumb to the side of his face, brushing a tear away. “Tell me what Changmin said to make you sad.”

“Changminnie said he’s afraid she’ll… she’ll… slip away between his fingers. Like stardust.” Kevin feels like he’s going to start sobbing any moment now. “He’s afraid she’s going to leave him eventually because she’s too perfect and he’s not good enough.”

“Oh my God.” You sit down on the couch. Kevin follows suit, albeit a lot more ungracefully as he collapses onto a cushion in a tangle of limbs. “Oh my God, that’s so sad and cute at the same time.”

“I said he should call her his star,” Kevin mumbles, turning slightly so he can burrow into your side. “Because stardust. Texted them about it. Both of them.”

Your laugh sounds like music even to the drunken haze of his brain. “Wonder what they’ll think when they see a drunken keysmash on their phones first thing tomorrow morning.”

The two of you sit in silence for a bit. Kevin feels his eyes beginning to get droopy, and he almost falls asleep before a thought strikes him with lightning force.

“I need to give you a nickname!” he almost yells, sitting bolt upright. The movement makes the room spin, but he doesn’t care. This is urgent. “Changmin’s going to call her his star, but I haven’t given you a nickname yet!”

“Kev, Kev.” You hold him by the shoulders, and he relaxes a little. “You can come up with a nickname for me in the morning. Right now, I think you need to sleep.”

“No,” he whines, shifting in your grip. “This is important. You need a nickname.” He sinks into deep, drunken thoughts, the kinds of thoughts he has when he ignores everything around him in favor of getting philosophical after having drunk too much alcohol.

Then it hits him.

“Oh my God,” he gasps. “Oh my God.” It’s his turn to grab you by the shoulders, now. “Oh my God. You’re the sun. Because I’m the moon. Get it? Kevin Moon?”

Through his drunken haze, Kevin thinks he sees you smile, maybe. It looks like a smile.

Your eyes are sparkling. You look happy.

Probably a smile.

“I’m a genius,” he whispers. A genius for coming up with the nickname and for making you happy.

“Sure, Kevin.” You grunt a little as he shifts his weight. “Come on, get up. We’ll see if you’re still a genius tomorrow if you wake up and remember all of this.”

Kevin doesn’t register much for the rest of the night, just remembers falling into his bed and forcing you to lie down next to him. The next morning, he wakes up with a throbbing headache and the vague, ever-present worry that he said something stupid last night.

You’re not in the bed with him anymore. Kevin blinks once, twice, before trying to sit up so to figure out where you went. Then he remembers you don’t live here. You probably went home.

Which is why he nearly goes into cardiac arrest when you appear in his doorway, holding a mug of coffee and a glass of water.

For a moment, the two of you just stare at each other. Kevin’s not sure what thoughts are running through your head, but he knows he’s trying to piece together what happened last night, and whether or not he should be hiding under the covers out of embarrassment.

Then it hits him.

Sun.

Moon.

Genius.

Oh, God.

Kevin wants to die.

“Morning, sunshine,” he says, using your new nickname in the desperate hope that it’ll distract you from remembering the rest of what he said last night.

A catlike smirk curls your lips as you walk over, pressing the glass of water into his hands. A feeling of dread fills Kevin’s heart as he takes it.

“Morning, genius,” you say with enough evil delight to power Changmin for a year.

Kevin groans. “I was drunk.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” Your teasing smile melts into something gentler as you place your mug on the bedside table, turning to bring the glass of water in his hands to his lips. “Coffee’s mine, don’t touch it or I’ll break a bone. Drink the water. I made some breakfast, so come into the kitchen whenever you feel up to it. After you’ve brushed your teeth.”

Warmth courses through Kevin’s body, and it has nothing to do with the alcohol from last night and everything to do with how you’re here in body and mind, sweetly helping him recover from a stupid hangover even when it’s definitely not your problem to take care of and you probably have better things to do. His heart thumps, loud enough that he thinks you could probably hear it.

In this moment, Kevin doesn’t think he’s ever been more grateful for anything than you coming into his life.

“Got it.” He awkwardly tries to salute, but he does it with the hand holding the glass and the water nearly spills onto the bed. As his cheeks flush, you break into snorting giggles.

Even though it’s at his expense, Kevin thinks he would do anything, anything in the world, to keep that wonderful smile on your face and that musical laughter in the air.

. . . . .

iv.

Only when you move in together does Kevin realize just how taxing your job is. He had an idea from when you sometimes had to cancel or move around dates, but when you did meet up, you were usually energetic and cheerful. Of course, there were the token dates where you just came over to Kevin’s apartment or he came over to yours and you just flopped around for a few hours. Outside, though, you always showed a bright face.

But that was because dates were mostly on your days off or when your hours were short, and as a result, you felt good enough, energized enough to show Kevin your brilliant smile. When you first moved in together, Kevin felt a bit surprised – well, maybe not surprised, but saddened – that you didn’t have the energy to smile as brightly as he saw before.

It’s fine by Kevin, though. You smile often enough, and if your teeth don’t show as much as they used to, there’s something beautiful, something calming and sweet in the slower curve of your lips, the gentle, lethargic way you lean up for a kiss. After all, Kevin has enough energy to compensate for when you might lack some of yours.

(It helps that he can cook, he thinks. Even when the kids at school sometimes wear him out, the brief sparkle in your eye that spreads across your lips when you walk through the door to see him stirring something on the stove is more than enough to make up for it.)

You’re cute, too, when you’re tired. Though Kevin loves it when you’re energetic and ready for whatever the day has decided to throw in your path, there’s something so peaceful, so pleasant about feeling you lying lethargically against his side on the couch, scrolling through your phone or reading a book or just resting, doing nothing but breathing softly. Kevin cherishes those small moments, the soft atmosphere where he kisses your hair and you smile, reach up, and press a kiss of your own to his cheek.

Tonight is one of those nights, a night of soft, comforting silence, words few and far between. It’s been a bit warm lately, so Kevin’s elected to wear one of the tank tops he keeps for the warmer months instead of his usual sweater.

You sit next to him on the couch, back pressed to his side as you send off emails on your phone. Kevin’s working too, inputting grades on his laptop. He hums a little under his breath to take his mind off of the monotony of his task.

At some point, you finish, putting down your phone with a sigh and slumping into his ribs. Kevin starts at the sudden movement. “Sunshine,” he whines, even though he could really care less.

“Moon boy,” you parrot in the same tone of voice.

Kevin’s attention turns back to his laptop, so he barely registers you shifting on the couch to a new position. He does notice it, though, when your fingers start trailing along his skin, exposed by the lack of sleeves on his tank top, because your touch tickles.

You completely ignore his resulting twitch of surprise, only keep tracing the skin of his rib cage. Kevin looks down, confused as to what’s caught your attention.

Oh. His tattoos.

“Sunshine?” he asks softly, watching your fingers shift along his skin.

“Mm,” you hum, eyes still fixated on the ink decorating his side.

“Sleepy?”

Slowly, you shake your head, fingers paused on the image of Mickey Mouse. “Not yet.”

He goes back to inputting grades, all the while still aware of your fingers tracing the lines, the curls, the swirls of black ink along his side. When he finishes, he looks over before closing his laptop to see your eyes still focused on his skin.

Something in his heart explodes, spreading a tingly, comforting warmth throughout his body. It’s a feeling he’s come to associate with your presence, a feeling of absolute security, absolute trust, absolute warmth that comes with falling in love with you.

You look up, noticing his lack of movement. “Finished, moonbeams?”

“First moon boy, now moonbeams?” Kevin teases you lightly, picking up the hand you were using to trace his skin and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. Just like every other time he’s ever done it, a wide smile spreads across your face and a shyness sparkles in your eyes, as though you still can’t believe the bliss of the moment.

(At least, that’s what Kevin feels every time you do something to remind him that he’s yours.)

Your voice breaks into his thoughts. “Can’t call you moonshine, that’s an alcohol.” You shrug as best as you can in your stretched-out position. “Moonbeams, moon boy… whatever feels right.”

Kevin puts his laptop on the coffee table. As he leans back into the couch, you curl up into him, one hand still lingering against the Mickey Mouse tattoo on his side. “Tell me about these?” you ask, pressing your fingers a bit more firmly against the ink.

His tattoos are personal, serving as reminders of the past and inspiration to keep moving. Rarely does he share their meanings with anyone (not that people usually ask, because the tattoos are mostly covered by his clothes), and only with those who mean the world to him.

Kevin thinks you qualify as one of them.

Touching your shoulders, he turns you around slightly, just enough to press a short, sweet kiss to the top of your head. “Of course, sunshine.” He smiles, gazing into your eyes, feeling the warmth of your love travel through his limbs. “Which one first?”

. . . . .

Kevin Moon, for the majority of his life, has hovered in between being classified as a morning person or a night owl. Yes, he gets up at six in the morning for a cup of coffee, but he also stays up past midnight doing… stuff. Grading, writing reports, watching cat videos, wasting time.

(When Changmin judges his lifestyle, Kevin just reminds him that he fell in love with his roommate’s hookup and is on a dance team with the parent of one of his students.)

Honestly, if Kevin didn’t remind himself every so often that he’s currently a full adult, his lifestyle would make him think he was still in college. He certainly still acts like it when he isn’t working. Procrastinating? Check. Crying over reports he needs to submit at three a.m.? Check. Flopping around on the floor when life is going badly? Check.

And most importantly: nonexistent sleep schedule? Check.

You put a stop to that real quick when you move in, both directly and indirectly. Directly, you make an appointment for him at a sleep clinic after figuring out his shitty sleep patterns, and Kevin finds out he probably has mild insomnia. The aftermath is horrible – you put him on a strict sleep schedule and all but ban caffeine from his diet (goodbye, morning coffee) – but it helps, after a couple of weeks. He sleeps better. Perks of having a partner who works in medicine.

Indirectly, though, you probably make a bigger difference.

See, the way Kevin thinks about it, he just never had a lot of reasons to stay in bed very long. Even though he appreciates sleep, really appreciates it on long days, it’s just that he can’t really force it if it doesn’t want to come. He’d also rather be doing something productive (or not productive, depends on the asker’s perspective) than lying awake for hours, anyway.

But now that he’s waking up to a face he loves?

Well, even if you sometimes disappear before he wakes (hospital hours are whack as hell, but sadly, you can’t ignore your job), Kevin will just say your warmth is a powerful incentive to stay huddled under the covers, even if he can’t fall back asleep.

He still wakes up every morning to grey light beginning to peek through the window. No matter how hard he tries to sleep in just a little longer, his body can’t seem to stay unconscious past six in the morning, so both of you have just resigned yourselves to the fact that Kevin will always be an early riser.

Before you walked into his life, he would’ve rolled out of bed almost immediately, stumbled to the bathroom (and maybe knocked his knee against the doorframe, who knows), then started brewing coffee in the kitchen to start the day.

Now?

A drowsy smile begins to make its way across Kevin’s face, soft as the morning light, when his brain catches up to the present and he registers your warmth under the covers. Sleepily, he blinks, taking in the sight of your peaceful face buried halfway in the sheets.

You shouldn’t look this beautiful, Kevin thinks, not with your hair strewn all over the pillow, blankets rumpled around your shoulders, arms outstretched so that one sort of curls over his body while the other is held up to your chest. It’s the morning – no one should look pretty and put-together. That isn’t natural.

(Unless you happy to be Kim Younghoon, but that’s another story.)

Yet you somehow look like a sleeping deity in Kevin’s mind, even with your hair a mess and drool drying on the pillowcase. As the drowsiness clears from his eyes, as the light from the window grows brighter, Kevin can barely even think of moving, of disturbing your peace.

He dislikes your alarm. It’s loud, annoying, and hits him with a jolt when he’s just trying to take these stolen morning moments to admire your beauty. When he complains about it the first time, you tell him to serve as the alarm, to wake you up himself.

Kevin counters that he’s an artist, that he needs peace and quiet to give beauty of such a degree the respect it deserves. You just roll your eyes, telling him that if he isn’t going to wake you up, the alarm’s going to have to take that job. The smile on your face, though, and the brief kiss you press to his lips right after, speaks volumes for the emotions Kevin’s words make you feel.

(He loves flustering you like this, even if you pretend his words don’t make you feel some sort of way.)

So eventually, you wake, eyes fluttering as the alarm brings you back to the conscious plane. Kevin’s heart feels like it’s bursting when your eyes fully open, blearily blinking at the world.

“Morning, sunshine,” he whispers, running one hand through your hair.

You lean slightly into the touch, the corners of your lips twitching up. And every day, as he stares into your sleepy eyes, lips curling as you whisper a quiet “Morning, moon boy” in reply, Kevin knows he’s falling, falling in love with every part of you.

. . . . .

+i.

Kevin’s waiting in front of the school when you pull up at the curb. Smiling apologetically, he gives you a quick kiss on the cheek as you step out of the car. “Sorry, sunshine.” He gestures at the two small boys standing beside him, absorbed in their own world. “Their uncle’s running late and Changmin and Jacob have things to do, so I need to wait for Sangyeon to pick them up before we can go.”

“No worries.” You return the kiss, smiling as bright as the sun. Kevin feels a flash of pride for coming up with a nickname that fits you so well. “We have the whole afternoon, don’t we?”

“That, we do.” He grins, squeezing your hand.

“Mr. Moon, who’s that?” a small voice asks closer to the ground. The two of you turn to see Sunwoo and Eric trotting over, curious looks on their faces.

Kevin looks over at you, but you’re already bending down to get to eye level with the two boys. “Oh, hello!” Your grin, if possible, grows wider. “I’m Y/N, Kevin’s significant other. What are your names?”

“I’m Eric,” Eric pipes up. “This is my brother, Sunwoo.”

Sunwoo just stares with round eyes. Well, he’s always been the shyer of the two.

“Those are lovely names,” you reply smoothly, giving Sunwoo an encouraging smile. Kevin feels his heart melt completely at how well you interact with the kids. “I’m just going to be waiting with Kevin until your uncle picks you up, is that okay?”

The two kids nod and immediately go back to babbling in their own little world. Kevin notices the fond smile on your face, and his heart melts even more.

“They’re so cute,” you whisper to him.

“I know, right?” Kevin clutches his heart dramatically. “Can you imagine teaching them every day?”

Just as you’re shaking your head in comic disbelief, another car pulls up behind yours. A harried-looking young man quickly exits and Eric and Sunwoo cheer, distracted by the arrival of their uncle.

“Sorry about this,” Sangyeon says, absentmindedly patting Eric’s head as the boy hugs his leg. Sunwoo seems to be attempting to climb onto his uncle’s back. “Traffic wasn’t the kindest when I was getting out of work.” Then he notices you. “Oh, hello. Are you Kevin’s partner?”

“That I am.” You stick out a hand. “I’m Y/N, and I’ve been told you’re Sangyeon?”

Sangyeon nods, smiling. “Nice to meet you. And to see that Kevin’s found someone to deal with his antics.”

Kevin blushes as you laugh. “Hey,” he complains. “No jokes at my expense, please.”

“Sure, moonbeams.” You roll your eyes, then turn back to Sangyeon. “It’s nice to meet you. Your nephews are adorable.”

The smile that Sangyeon gives the two boys clambering around him says it all. “They are, aren’t they?” He checks his watch. “I’m sorry, I have to go now. My sister’s expecting us back soon, and I’m already a bit late.”

Kevin breathes a sigh of relief. No more teasing at his expense from Sangyeon, at least, though there’s no guarantee from you. “Nice seeing you, Sangyeon. And have a good day, kids.”

A small chorus of “You too, Mr. Moon!” sounds, and Kevin expects that to be the end. Sangyeon will herd the boys into the car, Kevin will follow you into yours, and then you’ll go your separate ways. What he doesn’t expect is for Sunwoo to look out at you from behind his uncle’s leg, round eyes cautiously curious, and ask you a question.

“Y/N?”

Immediately, you turn around, teasing smirk melting into a gentle smile for the small boy. “Yes, Sunwoo?”

Sunwoo’s eyes dart between you and Kevin. Then, softly, shyly – “Do you love Mr. Moon?”

Time seems to stop as Kevin’s breath hitches in his throat at the sudden question, but you only look back at him, eyes soft and sparkling in the sunlight.

Your answer glitters in your gaze.

Though you’re supposed to be talking to Sunwoo, your eyes stay fixed on Kevin, strong and unyielding, yet gentle and affectionate, as you answer. Your voice is soft when you reply. “Yes, Sunwoo. I do love him.” The smile on your face grows wider as you turn back to the child. “I love him very much.”

Indescribable warmth floods Kevin’s chest and tears prick his eyes. And as Sangyeon hurries his nephews away, as you turn around to unlock your car, one truth burns with absolute, crystal-clear certainty in his mind.

He isn’t falling in love with you, not anymore. No, he’s far past that stage.

Kevin Moon is completely, wholly, irrevocably in love with you.

“Kevin?” You look at him from the other side of the car. “You coming?”

A wide grin spreads across his face as he meets your sparkling eyes. Love blooms in his chest.

“Coming, sunshine.”

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for kevin’s whipped ass ksjdkgsdhjk)

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