#i like it when the batter is closing his eyes

[syluslnd]

hi!! i love your writing, i’ve never made a request before, but i was thinking about sylus (in the early stages of their relationship, the “rivalry”) finding MC at his door injured?? like a “i had nowhere else to go” kind of a situation

when you end up at your rivals doorstep

A chill filled the night air as you limped up to Sylus’s front door, each step sending a fresh wave of pain through your body. Blood stained your clothes and every inch of you ached but you had nowhere else to go. You and Sylus had always been two sides of the same coin—equal in skill, stubborn as hell, always toeing the line between animosity and something… else. But, in this moment, all you wanted was to see him.

With a trembling hand, you knocked weakly on his door before your vision blurred and your knees buckled. The world tilted and you sank to the cold ground, the last bit of strength leaving your body.

You weren’t sure how much time passed but the sudden flood of light hit your closed eyelids as the door opened. You forced your eyes open just enough to see him��Sylus, staring down at you, clearly about to make some sarcastic remark. But then his eyes widened and all traces of humor vanished.

“Sweetie” His tone was shocked, low with concern, as he dropped to his knees beside you, his hands hovering uncertainly over your bloody, bruised form. “What the hell happened to you?”

You managed a weak, half-smile. “Long story…” you muttered, your voice barely a whisper.

Without hesitation, Sylus scooped you up in his arms, his grip surprisingly gentle but unyielding. He carried you inside, the warmth of his chest against your cheek feeling like the only thing keeping you grounded. The smell of him—warm, familiar, infuriatingly comforting—filled your senses and despite the pain, you felt a sense of relief wash over you.

Sylus laid you down on his plush couch, his gaze sharp as he took in every injury, his jaw clenching tightly. “I hate seeing you like this” he muttered, more to himself than to you, his fingers brushing a blood-matted strand of hair from your face. “What were you thinking, coming here like this?”

You let out a faint chuckle, though it hurt to laugh. “You know I don’t run to you unless it’s… a last resort.” Your voice was faint but you tried to keep your usual sass, even through the haze of pain.

He scoffed but his eyes were softer than you’d ever seen them. “And here I thought you’d be too stubborn to admit you needed my help” he murmured, grabbing a clean cloth and carefully dabbing at the cut on your forehead. His touch was surprisingly tender and you closed your eyes, focusing on the warmth of his hands, the way he was taking care of you despite every argument you’d ever had.

“I… I didn’t know where else to go” you whispered, feeling yourself growing drowsy, exhaustion finally overtaking you.

He went silent, his gaze lingering on your face as he continued tending to your wounds. You weren’t sure if it was the pain or the proximity but you could feel your heartbeat quicken under his gentle touch. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you could hear your own voice whispering that this was dangerous—that you should pull away, keep up your walls, protect yourself. But here, lying battered and broken in Sylus’s living room, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

His hand stilled, hovering over your shoulder as his eyes met yours, a conflicted look crossing his face. “You know I can’t stand you, right?” he murmured, though there was no real malice in his voice. “But… seeing you like this…” His voice faltered, his usual cockiness gone. “I hate it even more.”

Something in you broke. Maybe it was the pain or the adrenaline—or maybe you were just too tired of pretending. “Yeah, well, I can’t stand you,too” you whispered, trying for sarcasm but sounding much more vulnerable than you intended. “But maybe that’s… not the whole truth.”

You barely processed your own words before his gaze softened, surprise flickering in his eyes. He studied you, his fingers stilling on your shoulder as his expression shifted, like he was searching for something in your face.

“Do you know what you’re saying,sweetie” he murmured, his voice soft, almost hesitant—a tone you’d never heard from him before.

You let out a shaky breath, feeling your pulse race. “I… I think so” you whispered, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “I know it doesn’t make sense, but… I don’t hate you, Sylus. Not like that.”

For a moment, there was only silence and you braced yourself, half-expecting him to laugh it off, to throw some snarky remark back at you. But instead, his gaze softened, and he leaned in, his hand slipping to rest on your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin.

“I guess I don’t hate you either” he murmured, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Infuriating as you are.”

You felt your face heat up but you couldn’t look away, your breaths shallow as his face hovered just inches from yours. The tension between you was palpable, a slow burn that had been building for far too long and in this moment, it felt like it was finally going to snap.

But he just gave you a teasing smirk, leaning back ever so slightly. “Just don’t expect me to go easy on you after this. You’ll owe me, big time.”

You rolled your eyes, a smile breaking through despite the pain. “Trust me, I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

And as Sylus settled down beside you, his hand resting protectively on your arm, you realized that maybe, just maybe, your rivalry wasn’t as simple as it had once seemed and as you drifted off, his warmth anchoring you, you felt something new stirring—a feeling you weren’t sure you wanted to fight anymore.

[honeybelleee]

for you i’d bleed | p.js

req ( anon & my bae @kpopiedictionary ) : down bad boyfriend jay fighting someone who talked bad about you in your absence + passionate sex but dom!y/n

pairings - jay x fem!reader

genre - established relationship, dom!y/n x sub downbad!jay, smut (MDNI), fluff

warnings - lower case intended, fighting, jay getting injured, mention of blood, heavy oral (m receiving), pwp, y/n getting objectified

1,3 ++ wc ! masterlist

jay had never imagined he’d be fighting to defend y/n from someone so close to him, but the bitter reality hit when his friend’s careless mouth spewed inappropriate, lewd remarks about y/n in her absence.

the argument flared quickly, blazing like a fire out of control. jay’s friend, wearing a smug, dismissive grin, shrugged off jay’s fury as if y/n were meaningless a joke.

"why are you getting so worked up man?" his friend sneered. "if she wasn’t your girl, i’d fuck that pussy real good. she’s got a body that—”

“don’t,” jay interrupted, his voice low and dangerous. “don’t talk about her like that. you have no idea who she is, and you clearly don’t respect her.”

his friend scoffed, crossing his arms. “come on jay, it’s just a joke. lighten up. it’s not like she’d ever even find out i said anything.”

jay stepped closer, fury flashing in his eyes. “that’s not the point. if you think I’m going to let you talk about my girlfriend like that, you’re dead wrong.”

“oh, so now you’re gonna act all tough? over a few words? you used to be fun, bro,” his friend taunted, raising his eyebrows in mock amusement.

jay’s patience finally snapped. “a real friend wouldn’t disrespect the woman i love,” he said through gritted teeth, “and a real man wouldn’t need to put someone down like this to feel big.”

jay's fists clenched, his blood boiling at the blatant disrespect toward someone he cherished. he couldn’t ignore it, couldn’t just let it slide. his friend’s sick remarks and arrogant stance only spurred jay on until he couldn’t hold back anymore.

with a surge of anger, jay threw the first punch, connecting with his friend’s jaw. the impact left him stumbling, but he recovered, lashing back and landing a wild swing that split jay's lip. ignoring the pain, jay lunged forward, grabbing his friend by the collar and slamming him into the wall, “if I ever hear you talk about her again, i’ll fucking kill you. understood?”

the friend, suddenly realizing the depth of jay’s anger, muttered, “alright… fine. i’m sorry. i went too far.”

jay stormed off, his mind racing as he headed straight for y/n's place. as he reached her apartment, he hesitated, his hand hovering over the doorbell. his face was bruised and bloodied, and he didn't want to scare her. but the door swung open before he could change his mind, and there she was, looking concerned and beautiful in her silk robe.

"jay, what happened?" she asked, her voice filled with worry.

he tried to smile, but the pain from his split lip made it more of a grimace. "just a little disagreement with a friend."

y/n's eyes widened as she took in his battered appearance. "oh baby, come in! we need to get you cleaned up."

jay followed her inside, feeling a mix of shame and desire. he knew he had overreacted, but the thought of that guy disrespecting y/n had made his blood boil.

in the bathroom, y/n gently guided him to the sink, her touch soft and soothing. she ran a damp cloth over his face, wiping away the blood and grime. her fingers were gentle as she dabbed at the cut above his eyebrow, her breath warm against his skin.

"does it hurt?" she asked, her voice low and concerned.

"not as much as my pride," jay replied, his voice hoarse with emotion.

y/n's eyes locked with his, and in that moment, something shifted between them. she could see the hurt and anger in his eyes, but also a raw, primal desire. her heart raced as she realized the effect she had on him.

"you fought for me," she whispered, her voice laced with a mixture of awe and arousal.

jay nodded, unable to speak as the emotions overwhelmed him. he had always been the protective type, but this was different. the thought of someone sexualizing y/n had sent him into a blind rage.

y/n's fingers trailed down his jaw, her touch electric as she caressed his bruised face.

"you're so beautiful when you're angry," she murmured, her breath hot against his ear.

jay shivered at her touch, his body responding to her words. he had always been the dominant one in their relationship, but now, as she stood before him, her eyes burning with desire, he felt a surge of submission.

"y/n, i..." he began, but she placed a finger on his lips, silencing him.

"shh," she whispered, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "let me take care of you."

with that, she dropped to her knees before him, her hands sliding up his thighs, her touch sending shivers through his body. jay's breath caught in his throat as he felt her fingers brush against the bulge in his pants.

"i want to make you feel good," she whispered, her voice throaty with desire.

"let me show you how much i appreciate what you did for me."

jay groaned as she unbuttoned his jeans, his cock springing free, hard and throbbing. y/n's eyes widened at the sight of his thick, erect shaft, her lips parting in anticipation.

"you're so hard for me baby," she purred, her voice filled with satisfaction.

she leaned forward, her breath hot against the tip of his cock, and then she took him into her mouth, her lips sliding down his length. jay's eyes rolled back in his head as pleasure surged through his body. y/n's mouth was warm and wet, her tongue swirling around his sensitive head, driving him wild.

she sucked him with a passion he had never experienced before, her hands gripping his thighs as she took him deeper into her throat. jay's hands clenched into fists as he struggled to hold back his orgasm, wanting to prolong this moment of pure ecstasy.

"fuck, y/n," he groaned, his voice hoarse with desire. "your mouth feels so fucking good."

y/n moaned around his cock, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through him. she pulled back, her lips glistening with his precum, and looked up at him with a wicked smile.

"i want you to fuck my face," she whispered, her eyes daring him to take control.

jay's heart pounded as he realized she was giving him permission to be rough, to take what he wanted. he placed his hands on her head, his fingers tangling in her hair, and began to thrust gently at first, but soon the primal urge took over, and he was pounding into her mouth with abandon.

y/n's moans and gasps fueled his desire, her hands gripping his hips, urging him on. her tongue danced against his shaft, her lips tight around him, and he could feel her throat constricting around his cock as he plunged deeper.

"oh baby i'm gonna cum," he grunted, his body tensing as the orgasm built.

y/n's eyes flashed with excitement, and she pulled back, her hand wrapping around his shaft, stroking him in rhythm with her mouth. jay's body convulsed as he exploded, his cum shooting into her mouth, down her throat, and over her lips. she swallowed eagerly, sucking him dry, her eyes never leaving his.

as he caught his breath, y/n stood, her body flushed and her lips glistening with his release. she pressed herself against him, her breasts pressing into his chest, and kissed him deeply, sharing the taste of his cum.

"i love you," he whispered, his voice hoarse.

y/n smiled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "i love you too, ready for round two?”

jay will bleed for u if u like/comment/reblog!

perm taglist - @ancnymcnzjy @june19190 @wiccangirl29 @shjsnjkj @who-tf-soddhi

©honeybelleee on tumblr!

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

Game On. | Touya x Reader Imagine 🌶

LOLOL But imagine Touya fucking up into you bare for the first time...

Oh, you can't!? Well let me do it for you...

He finally has you naked in his bed like he's been dreaming about ever since you joined up with the League of Villains.

You'd knocked on his door and kissed him when he'd answered it - putting a fiery seal on 6 months of mutual pining and flirtation. You'd been so desperate for each other that he'd pulled you into his arms and kicked the door closed behind you. His lips were everywhere - your mouth, your cheeks, your pulse point. He'd unbuttoned your shirt and shed you of your clothes in record time. There was no time to be embarrassed about your nakedness - not when there's so much of Touya you still need to explore.

You pull at his hair, bite at his lips, run your hands down his toned, stapled body...there wasn't time to grab a condom, not when you need each other this badly. You were already so wet and desperate for him, he pressed his thick cock into you so easily. Touya slid into you smoothly like a knife into room temperature butter.

And so now here you are, riding him. Bouncing up and down on his cock like there's no tomorrow, like you won't need to have a serious conversation about what you mean to each other after this is all done.

Nope - no thinking. No planning ahead. Just you riding his emo fucking dick and cooing at him as he throws his head back and lets out the sluttiest little sounds you've ever heard.

His piercings and staples glint in the low light and his large hands move to grip at your hips, his touch almost bruising in intensity. His cock twitches and bullies its way up into your tight pussy as he searches for your G-spot. You gasp when he finds it, and he grins wickedly up at you when he feels you reflexively squeeze around him. He focuses in on repeating the motion again and again. Your tits bounce with the rhythm of his thrusts as he speeds up, grinding into you.

"You wanna cum, babe? You want me to fill up this tight fuckin' pussy?" He speeds up and brings a calloused thumb between the two of your bodies in order to rub at your clit. Heat pools in your lower belly and your cheeks heat up as you feel yourself at the verge of release. Touya grins up at you, wicked white teeth glimmering as he fucks you, enjoying himself.

"Don't worry about cumming too early, sweetheart. I bet I can get at least 3 orgasms out of you tonight." He flashes you a smile of bright white teeth as his cock twitches deep inside of you.

And at his inspired dirty talk, you fall over the edge and into oblivion, creaming on the cock of one of the most wanted villains in Japan. Your breath hitches in the back of your throat as you feel your pussy clench tightly around his dick, pulsing and fluttering in time with the pleasure of your orgasm.

Touya's icy blue eyes bore into your own. As he watches you cum, something in him falters and his eyes grow a fraction wider. It takes you a moment before you register what's going on - your orgasm is milking pleasure out of Touya's cock and the goddamn idiot is also cumming. His dick twitches once, twice, three times as he cums deep inside of you, fucking his ejaculate deeper and deeper into your tiny cunt.

Reading his body language you realize - his orgasm had taken you both by surprise. The goddamn idiot had thought he could holdout longer. But now here he is, filling you up to the brim with his thick baby batter.

"Fuuuuck!" He groans out, eyes fluttering shut as his hips work overtime to draw out his release. "Fuckin' hell." You feel his thick, hot ropes of cum filling you up and making the tail end of your own orgasm even more intense.

You groan as you both finish, crying out his name in such a pretty way that he doesn’t know what to do. His hands grab anything they can find – your hips, your breasts, your neck. He feels so good and he craves closeness – he’d climb into your goddamn skin if he could.

When you both come down from that heaven-sent high, you fall onto his chest and nuzzle into his neck. You're absolutely spent.

“Wow.” Is all you can say as you feel him gently pull out of you, cool air hitting your pussy as cum and arousal gush onto the sheets. He shifts you into a more comfortable position and you shiver as the sweat on your body cools in the AC.

“I’ll last longer next time.” He says, softness creeping into his voice. He sounds...embarrassed? You smile, savoring the rare spark of vulnerability. All sense of angry bravado has been abandoned now that he’s fucked out and breathless.

“You’d better.” You try to challenge him, but you’re too tired and too boneless to hold up your end of banter. “Hold me?”

He wraps his arms around you, strong biceps flexing against your bare skin. You feel the hard metal of staples scratch lightly across your skin as you curve into him. You shift your gaze up to his beautiful face, his mouth quirked into an unsteady smile.

His ice blue eyes search your face as he croaks out: “So…are we actually doing this?”

“Doing what?” You ask shakily, afraid of what his answer might be.

“You know damn well ‘what.’” He scowls, but his expression is softer than usual as he squeezes you to him. You can feel his heartbeat pulsing where your chests lay flush against each other. “I want you too badly. I want you to be mine.”

“Like…in a hookup-fuck-buddy kinda way? Or in an intense, deep devotion relationshipy way?” You ask, suppressing a giggle as Touya scowls at you with those endless icy eyes of his.

“Don’t make me say it.” He says gruffly, rolling his eyes as he looks past your face to stare hard into the cracking ceiling. “The latter. I need you all to myself. Idiot.”

“Touya, you’re so goddamn mushy I can’t stand it.” You say sarcastically, bringing up a hand to trace his sharp jawline. He fuckin leans into the touch. He’s so whipped for you, you practically glow with the realization. “So does that make me your girlfriend?” You tease.

He huffs, throwing you off of him and onto your back. You hit the plush mattress and sink in a bit, surprised at his sudden roughness. Seconds later he’s on top of you, kissing down your neck and sinking his teeth into your shoulder and sucking at the skin there. A bright hickey blooms quickly under his mouth and he smiles at it, content.

“If calling you my girlfriend gives me unrestricted access to this gorgeous fuckin’ body…then, yeah. I’ll let you be my girlfriend, sweetheart.” He whispers harshly, his fingers coming down to rub against your abused clit. You gasp, still over stimulated from your orgasm.

“You’re such a shithead jerk, Touya.” You moan in discomfort as he slips a finger inside of you with a squelch, pushing his cum back inside of you.

“Yeah, but doll I’m you’re ‘shithead jerk’ now. No take backs.”

You can feel him already getting hard again against your thigh, and you spread your legs to give him better access to your pussy.

Oh you are gonna have fun with boyfriend Touya. You gasp as he curls his fingers to hit your g-spot deep inside your still-shaky cunt.

You grin wickedly up at his ceiling.

Game on.

-------------------------

Woohoo a rare little one shot ficlet! Hope you enjoyed!

XOXO, RedRiotUnbreakableHeart ❤️

🔥Link to My Master List 🔥

[ninetailedfoxmanchi]

Mafia! BTS - They Want to Spoil You

Warnings: /

A/N: They realize you're not well-off or are even struggling financially and that makes them want to take care of you even more. Per popular request <3.

MASTERLIST

Jin

Jin was already lying in bed when you got out of the bathroom. You grabbed your pyjamas from your bag as he watched you change.

"Oh no ..." you mumbled when you saw that the seams in your side tore and left a gap in your top. "Can I borrow a t-shirt?" you asked as you turned to your boyfriend but you already knew the answer. You were beginning to suspect too that Jin even preferred it if you wore his clothes.

"Do you need new pyjamas?"

"No, I'll just sew this up and they'll be like new again," you told as you grabbed Jin's t-shirt from one of the dressers.

"Just get a new pair," said Jin as he sat leaning against his pillow.

"I can already barely get through the month, I can't just buy new clothes whenever there's a tear in them," you laughed as you pulled on Jin's white t-shirt. You climbed into the bed but your smile faded when you saw Jin frowning.

"Are you okay?" you asked gently and scooted closer to him.

"You barely get through the month?" asked Jin seriously. Your mouth parted and your face went blank. Your cheeks turned pink as you thought about how much less you earned compared to Jin. You had made your peace with it already when you two began dating but the difference between your incomes and savings never crossed Jin's mind.

"It's not that bad," you smiled and tried to reassure your boyfriend. "I have a beginner's salary, it's normal."

"It's not normal if you're struggling," said Jin sternly as he sat up straight and his hand cupped your cheek. "Let me take care of you." He frowned even worse.

"You don't have to take care of me, Jin, I'm fine, really," you insisted although the past few months have been really tight for you financially. Your rent took most of the money whilst you were staying at Jin's place the majority of the nights. Then there was the food and the bills, the everyday things and the public transport. Your phone was so battered that the screen had began to flicker a couple of weeks ago.

A look so determined filled Jin's eyes that it began to worry you a little.

"Please don't think about it anymore, Jinnie," you begged as you took his cheeks and kissed him. He struggled to respond at first, his mind in a storm, but he couldn't resist your soft lips.

The next day when you woke up, you reached for the nightstand blindly to check the time on your phone but you couldn't find it. You rose your head and frowned when your phone was nowhere to be seen.

"Have you seen my phone?" you mumbled sleepily when you came into the living area, finding Jin already dressed in another one of his perfect outfits. It must have been late in the morning judging by the daylight if not close to noon. Jin liked to sleep in as well but not that day. He had been up since early morning.

"Here you go, princess," said Jin as he handed you a phone.

"This isn't my phone?" you asked confused and tried to give it back to Jin. It seemed brand new so you figured he changed his.

"It's your phone," insisted Jin, his eyes still filled with the same unbending look as the night before. You frowned and tapped the screen. The background was the same as on your phone, the contacts and the apps, everything was the same but the machine itself.

You looked up and finally noticed the dozens of bags lying around on the sofa and the coffee table.

"What's all this?" you breathed, your frown only deepening.

"You bought this for yourself, princess," said Jin as he took your free hand and placed a black card in your palm.

"N-No, I didn't," you backed away but tried to give the card back to Jin at the same time. He didn't even look at your hand.

"Jin, please," you begged when you realized what he was doing. "I don't need any of this—"

"Y/N," warned Jin when he turned to you. "Not another word." His hands caressed your neck gently before they moved up to your jaw and made you look up at him. He leaned in slowly and kissed you, silencing any protests that might want to come out of your mouth.

"I'll know if you won't use the card, Y/N," he cautioned against your lips, sending shivers down your spine, but you only wanted another kiss. Jin backed away when you searched for his plush lips again. You opened your eyes, seeing the stern look on Jin's handsome face.

"Just let me take care of you, princess," he spoke quietly, his chest vibrating with the deepness of his voice. You nodded weakly, folding at the prospect of Jin's affection. True to your presumptions, he rewarded you with another tender kiss.

Namjoon

You found your boyfriend sitting on the sofa, checking something on his laptop when you took a seat beside him.

"Are you busy?" you asked quietly, not wanting to disturb him.

"No, it's just some stupid emails," said Namjoon absently, his eyes scanning through the unnecessarily long blocks of text. "What is it, baby?"

"I was just ... I was wondering if ..." You cleared your throat as you squeezed your hands nervously. "If you could maybe lend me some money," you asked with difficulty. Your cheeks flushed pink in embarrassment when Namjoon tore his gaze from his laptop and looked at you, his eyebrows furrowing into a heavy frown.

"I'd pay you back everything," you said quickly. "It's just for rent—"

"What do you mean you'd pay me back?" asked Namjoon sternly, a tempest of thoughts behind his dark irises.

"I'll get my paycheck next week and I'll pay you back every cent, I promise," you explained although the demanding look on his features gave you little hope. His pensive eyes studied your face wordlessly. "It's okay if you don't want to, I'll ask my mom—"

"For rent?" Namjoon cut you off. His frown only grew deeper as he struggled to understand what you were asking.

"It's okay, I shouldn't have asked; I know it's weird," you said quickly and took Namjoon's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. You tried to get up but he caught your wrist and pulled you back down.

"How much do you make?" demanded Namjoon. His voice was gentle but no less inquisitive. Your face went blank as more heat rose to your face. You didn't even make a hundredth of what Namjoon was bringing in in your first job as a beginner with no position.

"You know I don't make as much as you do," you swallowed. Even though your answer gave little information, Namjoon realized for the first time since you began dating that you might be financially unstable. He knew what you did and you liked your job but since money was never an issue for him, he never considered it might be an issue for you.

"I'll take care of it," nodded Namjoon and smoothed his thumb gently across your cheek before he got up.

"Take care of what?" you asked wide-eyed as you stared up at him. "Namjoon, I just need—"

"I'll take care of it," repeated Namjoon and gave your forehead a kiss as he buttoned his suit jacket. He grabbed his phone and his wallet and made for the door.

"Namjoon," you called again but he was adamant and gone.

A few hours later, you were looking through the fridge to think of some ideas for dinner when Namjoon came back. He set down a brown folder on the kitchen isle with a credit card on top of it before he pulled off his jacket and came to you for a kiss. You closed the fridge blindly as you responded to his lips but your mind was on the folder.

"What's this?" you asked as you removed the card from the brown paper and opened the file. It was a title deed with your name on it as part of a property transfer. The apartment in question was your rental paid in full and written in your name. Your eyebrows gathered into a frown as your mouth parted and your stomach gave a nervous squeeze.

"I told you I'd take care of it," said Namjoon easily and grabbed some orange juice from the fridge. You stared at him, your frown as deep as ever.

"You bought my apartment?" you asked astounded.

"No, you bought your apartment," said Namjoon as he drank the cold juice from a crystal glass. His fingers sat down on top of the dark credit card and he pushed it towards you. The letters of your name were engraved on the luxurious-painted plastic.

"Are you insane?" you blurted, your chest riddled with guilt. You were used to working hard for everything you had and hated accepting things from others. Even birthday gifts if too extravagant made you uncomfortable.

"I can't accept this, I won't accept this, Namjoon," you insisted although you could see it on his face that you were shouting in deaf ears. Your boyfriend was one of the most intransigent people in the world and when he decided on something there was no changing his mind.

"It's yours," said Namjoon nonchalantly, "Whether you like it or not."

Your eyes flinched in the direction of the crackling fireplace as you held the folder in your hands. Namjoon followed your gaze and smiled with amusement.

"I have a digital copy, baby," said Namjoon as he came closer to you. "The apartment is yours and so is the card." His arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled you to him, his forehead almost leaning against yours whilst you stared up at him.

"I'll know if you won't spend anything," he purred a warning and came even closer. "And I won't like it if you don't spend anything." His deep voice gave you goosebumps as your eyes flicked down to his plush lips.

"I want to spoil you, baby," said Namjoon against your soft mouth. "You should let me." He closed the space between your lips and kissed you deeply enough for the folder to fall from your hands as he pulled your waist to his hips.

Yoongi

"Fuck ..." you mumbled under your breath as you scrolled through the bills on your email, your back against the foot of the sofa and your laptop on the coffee table. Your stomach was in a tight knot. You tried to calculate the priorities but even that surpassed the amount that was left on your bank account from your last paycheck.

"What is it?" asked Yoongi as he sat on the sofa behind you, his legs on each side of your frame when he kissed the top of your head.

"Nothing," you whispered and closed your laptop quickly. You looked up and gratefully responded to Yoongi kissing your lips. His hand was caressing your neck gently, the cold rings on his long fingers giving you goosebumps as they made contact with your warm skin.

"You sure?" asked Yoongi when he pulled away a little. You set your eyes forward again and bit your lip as you nodded. Yoongi's hand glided around your neck and pushed back your soft hair as he began to run his fingers through it. You leaned your head against the sofa and closed your eyes.

"Tell me what's wrong," said Yoongi. His voice was deep and quiet but no less authoritative.

"Nothing's wrong," you insisted as you shook your head a little. Yoongi frowned more and more with each second. You didn't even have to open your eyes to see his expression. You knew that he knew that you were hiding something.

"You don't trust me anymore, jagi?" asked Yoongi. His hand came down to your cheek and caressed you gently. Your eyes opened at those words and you turned around to look at him.

"Of course I trust you," you spoke feverishly.

"Why won't you talk to me then?" said Yoongi as he tucked a lock of hair behind your ear.

"Because it's nothing," you lied. "And you'll worry and think that you have to fix it."

"Fix what?" pressed Yoongi. You groaned desperately and buried your face into the sofa. Yoongi seized the opportunity and opened your laptop behind your back, his eyes scanning over the bills.

"No, wait—" you tried to close the laptop when you noticed what he was doing but it was already too late. He saw everything.

"Yoongi, don't do anything," you begged as you got up to your knees and cupped his face. The look in his eyes was as hard and unmoving as a mountain and your words fell on deaf ears. He pulled the wallet from his back pocket and slid out a slick black credit card.

"Here you go, kitten, happy anniversary," said Yoongi as he offered you the card. You stood up with a frown.

"Our anniversary won't be for three months," you protested although that was far from Yoongi's point or yours for that matter. He stood up as well, took your hand and wrapped your fingers around his card.

"You can give me that card all you want but I won't spend a dime," you insisted. Yoongi turned to you slowly and took a good look at you. His eyes made your stomach dance with butterflies and fireworks.

"Fine," said Yoongi as he came closer to you. "Then I'll make you." His voice send shivers down your spine as he towered over you. He took your hand and you had no choice but to follow him. He drove you half-way across town until you arrived to a large glass building.

"Why are we here?" you questioned when Yoongi opened the car door for you. "Please, let's just go home." You took your boyfriend's hand but he wasn't paying your tugs no mind.

"Yoongi," you gasped under your breath and squeezed his hand tightly when he led you inside the Cartier boutique. It was too late to leave without causing a scene in front of the elegant saleswomen.

"Mr Min," said the older one of the two with her hair in a neat bun. "We're so happy to see you're back. It's been too long," smiled the other lady and took in the sight of you, giving you a warm smile as well.

"We have a very special thing for you," said the older lady and disappeared in the back.

"Yoongi," you pleaded in a whisper as you tugged on his hand a little but his fingers were tightly intertwined with yours. Yoongi looked down into your eyes, defeating you in an instance.

"This is one of our rarest and most sought after items, Mr Min," purred the older saleslady. She placed a beautiful red box on the glass counter before you and opened it with care. "This is out Panthere Maillon Etrier necklace in 18 carat white gold. It's distinguished for its geometric shape with the center of the necklace set with brilliant cut diamonds around 2,15 carats."

Your lips parted as your face went blank in the face of the exquisite piece of jewellery. You had never even stood in a jewellery shop, much less in Cartier itself. Yoongi observed your reaction for a while before he nodded to the saleslady.

"Very good," she smiled and motioned to her assistant to take care of the payment.

You realized that the purchase was agreed to and looked up at your boyfriend with wide eyes.

"Please," said the younger saleslady when she gestured elegantly at the payment terminal. Your gaze shifted between her, the astronomical number on the screen and Yoongi.

"Your card, kitten," said Yoongi as he stared down at you. You were still clutching to the black piece of plastic in your clammy hand. You swallowed before you inched the card closer to the terminal until it made a sound of approval.

"See? It's not that hard," purred Yoongi in your ear as his arm wrapped around your waist. You turned to him, your lips only inches apart. "You can use it for other things now too, kitten, and I'll know if you won't," he spoke quietly, his hot breath teasing your mouth as he slowly closed the space between you and kissed you greedily.

Hoseok

Although you have been dating Hoseok for a while now, you were never very comfortable talking about money with him. You grew up poor and even though you were just starting your first job now, you still struggled quite a lot. You didn't mind that Hoseok made a lot of money, you accepted that right in the beginning of your relationship, but you never wanted to talk about your situation because of that. Yet when you had a glass of wine too much with your dinner last week, you told Hoseok about your upbringing and how the notion of always having to save money was still rooted deep inside of you.

You shouldn't have said anything, though, because once Hoseok found out about it, he began to shower you with gifts every single day. You didn't mind him paying for meals when you went out but the gifts he was giving you now weren't anything short of luxurious.

"Hobi, I swear if you get me another thing—" you threatened when you saw the timeless Hermès Kelly on your nightstand. Your stomach twisted into knots just at the idea of how much it must have cost.

When you turned around with your index pointed at Hoseok, he was standing so close to you that the wind was knocked out of you. Your lips parted as Hobi towered over you.

"Or what?" he asked with an amused smile resting on his lips and in his dark eyes. You were at a loss for words. "Or what, kitten?" he asked again, taking another half a step closer to you and closed the space between your bodies.

"You should look what's inside, baby," Hoseok encouraged, enjoying every moment of seeing the puzzled and flushed look on your face.

You looked inside the leather bag hesitantly and found a creamy white jewellery box inside. It was already clutched in your fingers before you let it go and took a step back, your hands hugging your elbows as the corners of your eyebrows pulled downwards.

"I don't want it, you spoke weakly as Hoseok frowned at your reaction.

"You haven't even looked at it," said Hoseok but you shook your head and backed away some more.

"I don't want it - I didn't earn it and I sure as hell don't deserve it," you tried to leave the bedroom but Hoseok caught your wrist.

"Y/N," he called as he cupped your neck just beneath your jaw and made you look up at him but you were avoiding his eyes. "Y/N," Hoseok warned again and you looked at him. His frown softened when he saw the sad look on your face.

"That's the least of what you deserve, baby." He brushed his thumbs along the gentle line of your jaw. "Stop fighting me and let me take care of you." Hoseok leaned his forehead against yours, his closeness calming down your anxiety immediately. Your arms found their way around his sides as you came closer, pressing your cheek against his chest.

"It's okay, baby, you'll get used to it," Hoseok spoke gently against your hair before he kissed the top of your head, his hands caressing your back.

"Wear it to the opera tonight, baby," he said after a while. "Will you wear it for me, kitten?" Hoseok cupped your cheeks again and made you look up at him. You nodded a little. He smiled and leaned in, his thumbs caressing your soft skin as he kissed you tenderly.

When you finally found the courage to come near the bag and the jewellery box again, you were already wearing your evening dress. You opened the delicate velvet box and found a pearl necklace in 18 carat yellow gold. The letters Mikimoto were engraved in the satin interior of the box.

"Do you like it?" smiled Hoseok as he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist before he pressed a soft kiss on your bare shoulder.

You nodded weakly as you studied the necklace without a breath in your lungs. "It's beautiful."

Hoseok took the necklace from the box as you scooped up your hair and the cold pearls made contact with your warm skin. Hoseok fastened the clip in the back and took your soft hair from your hands, his fingers letting them fall down your back.

"You're so beautiful, baby," purred Hoseok when his hands returned to your waist and pulled you to him as his lips left tender kisses along your shoulder.

Jimin

When you got back from work, you were surprised to find Jimin already at home. It was barely the afternoon and he sometimes stayed at the office until evening.

"Hey," you greeted softly as you cuddled up next to him on the sofa. You wrapped your arms around his sides and leaned against his chest but he didn't budge. Jimin was pretending to watch the TV and refused to even say hello.

You sat up perplexed as you studied your boyfriend's sullen frown.

"What's wrong?" you breathed, your chest heavy with guilt although you had no idea what you did wrong. You took your boyfriend's hand and squeezed it pleadingly but Jimin gave no reaction.

"Jimin-ah," you tried again, your voice almost cracking. You couldn't stand having him be upset with you, especially when you had no idea what could have made him react this way. Jimin was never upset with you no matter what, which is why his reaction affected you so much.

The desperation in your voice made Jimin break his harsh facade. He turned to you frowning no less.

"Why do you think I gave you that card?" said Jimin bitterly but you were lost. He leaned forward and grabbed the bank statement from the coffee table and showed it to you.

"You promised me that you would spend money on that card, Y/N," said Jimin when you read through the humble list of meals you had paid with Jimin's card, the 30 dollars that you had spent on buying some cute office supplies and the 20 dollars you had left at the bookstore.

"But I did," you insisted, showing Jimin the bank statement that he knew by heart now. He rolled his eyes and glared at you again. You had never seen him behave like this before. His jaw clenched as his eyes narrowed at you. A part of you knew that he wanted you to spend more money but there was nothing you really needed that much. After Jimin found out that you weren't exactly financially stable, he pulled the card right from his wallet and gave it to you.

"You promised me, Y/N," said Jimin and got up. Your wide eyes followed him and your lips were parted in shock. He grabbed his car keys and waited for you to get up as well.

"What are you doing?" you asked your boyfriend.

"I'm making you keep your promises to me, sweetheart," said Jimin darkly as he took your hand and led you down to his car.

Jimin drove you to the enormous glass building where he liked to shop. You had been there with him a hundred times before but the prices made your stomach twist into knots.

"Jimin, this isn't necessary—" you tried to reason with him but he only grabbed your hand and led you straight to Tiffany & Co.

"Jimin, please," you begged him as your chest grew heavy with guilt. The salespeople knew him. He already got you a pair of their earrings before but you had only worn them once to your anniversary dinner for fear of losing them.

Jimin picked out a 20 carat diamond necklace for you since he knew you'd refuse to choose any of the items the salespeople displayed especially for him.

Your boyfriend gave you his card and stared at you. He was still angry with you and the sight of it made your heart break.

"Jimin," you pleaded but he didn't budge. The lady at the cash registry waited patiently when the five digit number appeared on the payment terminal in front of you.

"Y/N," Jimin warned when he saw you hesitate. You swallowed and gave in. You pressed Jimin's card against the terminal and felt even worse when it gave a sound of approval.

Jimin took you to Dior next, then Celine, Balenciaga and even Chanel where his card caused more rings of approval from the payment terminal. Your boyfriend's frown, however, began to melt away when he saw you try on couture and get tended to from every direction by the salespeople.

Jimin leaned against the door frame of your dressing room as he watched you put on a beautiful white dress with a black ribbon that screamed Chanel. He glanced over his shoulder before he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. Jimin leaned his chin against your shoulder as he watched you in the mirror.

"See? It's not that hard, baby," he purred before he pressed a soft kiss on your exposed neck and you couldn't help but lean back against him.

Taehyung

"What's this?" asked your boyfriend as he opened his bank statement. You looked up with big wide eyes and your heart sank a little. After Taehyung found out that you weren't exactly financially stable, he gave you his card and practically threatened you to spend money on it when you refused.

"I-I just ... " you began to stutter. You had bought yourself a new bag for your laptop and for the things you needed whenever you went to study or to work and a perfume that you knew Taehyung loved. Those were the kind of treats you could only afford once in a while on your own but since he encouraged you, you got them for yourself although it made you feel no less guilty.

"You said ... You said I should get a few things," you spoke carefully as you watched Taehyung's frown whilst he scanned the contents of his bank statement before his dark eyes turned to you.

"Why didn't you?" he asked sternly, showing you the slip. Your eyes turned into a different kind of wide when he spoke the opposite of what you imagined. You took the bank statement and saw your two items on there along with a few meals that you paid for with Taehyung's card.

"What do you mean? I got the bag," you gestured towards the beautiful accessory that was sitting at the foot of the sofa. "And I got the perfume - it's Gucci." Even saying the brand name weighed heavy on your tongue with guilt. You had never owned a luxurious brand item in your life before you met Taehyung.

"Yeah, and you got tteokbokki, bubble tea, two coffees and spent 12 dollars at a pizza place," Taehyung listed the rest of the items of places where the card was used.

"Do you want me to pay you back?" you asked unsure but that made Taehyung frown even deeper.

"Come on," he instructed as he took your hand and led you to his car. You watched him as he drove you to the city center and pulled up in front of Cartier.

"Tae—" you protested but he cut you off by getting out of the car. "Tae," you tried again when he grabbed your hand and took you inside the luxurious boutique.

"Mr Kim," the elegant saleswoman greeted the moment she saw your boyfriend and you enter their exclusive shop. "We're so glad to see you return, it's been a while." She smiled a bright smile when she saw you before she brought out a collection of their most exquisite items, timeless pieces inspired by art deco.

You tried to get your boyfriend's attention and get out of there but he would not so much as budge. He chose a sapphire and diamond bracelet for you. When the lady presented a six digit on the computer screen, your face grew hot with fever.

"Tae, don't—" you tried but Taehyung glared at you so intensely that you were at a loss for words. He showed you his card - your card - and pressed it against the payment terminal. Your mouth parted when the machine gave a happy sound of approval and the saleslady thanked the both of you. She tried to hand you the velvet box within a beautiful paper bag but Taehyung accepted it instead.

"You're getting this when you pay for dinner tonight, kitten," said Taehyung to you and only you, his dark voice sending shivers down your spine as he towered over you. He handed you back his credit card and left a small kiss on your jaw right above your neck, his lips hiding a shadow of a smirk.

Jungkook

"Please don't make me do this," you begged when Jungkook took you to Calvin Klein and made you try on a series of luxurious fragrances. The prices of the items they sold made your cheeks flush red with discomfort. Ever since Jungkook found out that you weren't financially stable, he insisted you spend money on his elite black card. If you failed to meet his expectations, he made you go shopping and this was just one of those instances.

Jungkook's nose brushed against your neck where one of the wonderful perfumes mingled with your skin.

"You smell so good, kitten," murmured Jungkook, his dark voice giving you goosebumps. He pulled away, his face only inched from yours as he watched you with amusement. Your boyfriend leaned in slowly, a few locks of his dark hair brushing against your forehead. You put your arms around his neck and guided him to you but he pulled away at the last moment, leaving you wide-eyed and perplexed.

"Only after you use the card, kitten," said Jungkook and placed the black credit card into your hand.

"But ..." Your gaze flicked between your boyfriend and your palm. "Jungkook," you whined in protest.

"You should have done this on your own, Y/N," said Jungkook smoothly as he stepped closer to you and you backed away until your back hit the perfume counter. His long arms leaned against the wooden surface and trapped you there. A sharp breath caught in the back of your throat as you stared at you boyfriend but your gaze kept drifting to his lips.

"We could have been somewhere else right now," spoke Jungkook quietly as his eyes gained a dark, glossy look that made your knees go weak.

"O-Okay," you found yourself stuttering.

After you paid for the perfumes you liked, you were eager to leave the luxurious shopping center.

"Not so fast, kitten," said Jungkook as he caught your hand and pulled you inside the Bvlgari boutique.

"Jungkook—" you spoke breathlessly but the salesman already nodded to Jungkook and went to retrieve something from the back.

"Jungkook, please, let's just go," you tried to reason with your boyfriend, but this time, instead of tempting you with his kisses, Jungkook frowned at you. His eyebrows arched sharply as he caressed your cheek.

"Stop fighting me, kitten," he spoke quietly but his chest was vibrating with the deepness of his husky voice. "We made a deal."

Jungkook had made you promise that you would use the card and not just for the things you needed like meals and everyday items.

"Here it is, Mr Jeon," smiled the elegant salesman. He presented a beautiful velvet box on the counter and opened it carefully. A Serpenti Viper Necklace was sitting on the cushion made in its shape. The metal used was white 18 carat gold with so many diamonds it would take you a month to count them.

Your lips parted in awe as you looked up at Jungkook. His frown vanished behind a small smile when his eyes found yours, a playful look in his dark irises.

"Would you like to try it on, Miss?" asked the courteous salesman. You checked with Jungkook and he nodded to the employee. He didn't let the salesman put it on you, though, that was his job. You turned to the mirror whilst the salesman went to assist the person in the back and Jungkook's arms wrapped around your waist. His gaze traced the viper's tail that led down the middle of your chest.

"Do you like it?" asked Jungkook, his hot breath teasing your ear as his eyes found yours in the mirror.

"It's exquisite," you breathed, feeling the weight of the diamonds and gold against your skin. Your hand took one of Jungkook's and intertwined your fingers with his,

"Just like you, kitten," he spoke softly and left a tender kiss on your neck.

[kusanagihaku]

and everything you do

⭢ haku x mc, 2.5k

y is for yellow. ˖⁺‧₊⟡ alphabet series | ao3 insp by this haku fanart!

The doors of the Galaxy Express hiss open, and you stumble in. 

You feel Haku’s weight slip off your shoulders as you gently lower him onto the plush of the closest red seat. He collapses, unceremoniously, onto the worn velvet, blinking slowly up at you with unfocused eyes as you right him. 

“Nearly there,” you murmur. You brush his hair away from his forehead. “On the train home now.” 

He closes his eyes in response. 

At least the bleeding seems to have stopped, you think. The cut on his cheekbone is no longer beading with fresh blood, dried smear instead catching on the pad of your thumb as you run it over the soft of his cheek. Small wins. 

You make sure he’s sitting semi-upright before moving to sit next to him. Before you can, however, his hand shoots up to stop you. 

With surprising strength, his arm winds around your waist, tugging you to him so hard you can’t help but lose your balance, knees buckling and tumbling into his lap. 

You yelp softly in shock, but Haku’s arms stay firmly anchored around you. His other hand comes up to grasp at the front of your blazer, holding you in place as he tips his head forward to rest on your shoulder. 

You soften. 

He must be really exhausted. 

Unsurprising, really, with the number of all-nighters he must have pulled over the last week. Where the missions of the other houses are often action-heavy and return you battered and bruised to the drafty embrace of the cathedral, Hotarubi’s missions are instead research-heavy, requiring Haku and Subaru to stay up nights on end in preparation. You’ve seen first-hand the amount of work Haku pours into every mission they go on, flipping through tomes of books way past moonset. Sometimes Subaru walks you back to the cathedral when your work ends past midnight, and you return the next morning to see Haku still in the same spot you left him. 

It’s partially why you find yourself gravitating towards Hotarubi missions – you’re more useful hitting the books for Haku than you are hitting… well, hitting anything with your fists. 

(The other half of the reason remains shrouded in a vague mist of Hotarubi nice, Subaru sweet, biggest fucking crush on Haku, Zenji fun… you try not to think too much about it.) 

You reach up to pat his head gently. “I’ll text Jiro to come take a look at your ankle, alright?” 

“Mmph,” Haku says. He shifts slightly, so that his chin is tucked into the crook of your neck instead. The grip on your blazer loosens. “No need, I’ll be alright.” 

Any closer his lips get to you and he’d be able to read the race of your heart through the thrum of your skin alone; you hope he doesn’t notice. 

You tsk, instead. “I know you ghouls heal at like, double the speed or whatever, but I still want to make sure it’ll heal properly.” 

Haku snorts. It sounds pained, still. His breath tickles your ear lobe as he says, “You don’t have to. I have you to lean on, don’t I?” 

You sigh. The ghouls may have double the strength, but they have double the stubbornness, too. “I’ll just get Jiro to bring the salve that Professor Nicolas used on me on my first day, alright?” 

Haku’s arms tighten around you at that. There is a small smile in his voice as he says, “How the tables have turned.” 

You tilt your head.

“Me bringing you to Darkwick on the Galaxy Express way back then because of your injured ankle…” Haku continues, laugh breathy against your ear. “Now it’s your turn to bring me home, huh?” 

You think you may be imagining it, but there is a gentle press of lips against the curve of your neck. It sends a warm shiver down your spine and a warm flush up your cheeks; you hurry to cover it up by shifting your arm and reaching into your pocket for your phone. 

“Wish you were sitting on my lap the first time, though,” Haku murmurs, and your brain short-circuits. 

“Um,” you say, intelligently. Your fingers fumble the password to your phone, failing to unlock it, and Haku snorts again. 

“Sorry, princess.” 

He doesn’t move though. You start to think he’s not sorry at all.

“I’ll, um.” You swipe at your phone screen again, ignoring the heat in your cheeks and the sudden overwhelming awareness of Haku’s arms holding you flush against him. “I’ll just.” 

You navigate to your texting app, with some difficulty, and as soon as your app opens Haku laughs, drowsily. “My chat is pinned.” 

Right. You forgot you did that. 

You bite your lip. “I, um, pinned it for the mission.” 

You didn’t, and you know Haku knows it too. 

There’s no mistaking it this time – you feel the soft of Haku’s lips smile against the spot where your neck meets your collar. “Mmhmm.” 

You don’t know if you’re going to combust first from embarrassment or from the way his breath is fanning out against your neck. 

But it’s a good reminder that he’s still alive, albeit in pain, and his breath evens out, eventually, as you tap out a quick missive to Jiro to meet you at the train station…

The Galaxy Express announces its arrival at the station with a soft chime. 

You awake with a start – you must have dozed off for a few minutes in the warmth of Haku’s embrace, lulled to sleep by the steady rocking of the train. Oh, to fall asleep in Haku’s arms under other circumstances– 

The train chimes again, and you stand up, gently pulling yourself free from the lock of his arms around you, before turning around to help Haku stand as the train pulls into the station. 

As soon as you get Haku to his feet, his weight warm against your shoulder, you spot the ever-reliable bird’s nest of hair hovering outside the train station, and the even-more-reliable ghoul floating behind him. “Jiro!” 

Zenji floats immediately to your side as you help Haku out of the train. “My goodness, Haku! What have you gotten yourself into!” 

You bite your lip and shoot him an apologetic glance. Can’t answer him now, with Jiro so close, but Zenji just nods in understanding, choosing instead to fret over Haku’s injuries. 

It takes a moment to navigate out of the Galaxy Express and down the steps of the train station to the sound of Zenji’s chatter, but the two of you soon stand in front of Jiro as he surveys your mess.

“Honour student,” Jiro nods. “Kusanagi.” 

His eyes sweep over the surface cut on Haku’s cheek, before choosing to attend to the ankle injury. The bottle of whitish-green salve is already in his hand as he kneels down. He prods a little, with the cold tips of his fingers, then spreads the salve around where you think (?) Haku’s ankle is swollen. 

Jiro stands up at last, capping the bottle of salve. “It doesn’t look too bad. The swelling isn’t as bad as you made it out to be; it looks like he should be able to walk back by himself.” 

You sigh in relief. “Thanks, Jiro.” 

Jiro just shrugs, tucking the bottle into your hand. “If you didn’t say he was limping I wouldn’t have known it was injured at all.” 

You narrow your eyes as the pieces click together in your head, but before you can turn to Haku Jiro retrieves a few bandages from his pocket and thrusts them at you. 

“Some bandages for his face,” Jiro says. “Normally I’d put them on for patients, but he seems like he’d vastly prefer you doing it for him.” 

You turn to glare at Haku, but he just grins, brightly. “Spot-on as always, Jiro.” 

Jiro merely nods, before turning to stride away. 

“Thanks, Jiro!” You call out after the ghoul, before turning to Haku with a huff. 

“You–“

“I told you not to call him,” Haku points out, eyes twinkling, and you huff again. 

“I thought you were injured!” 

“I am!” He grins, and leans against you. “God, I’m so tired, it’s so hard to walk, my ankle hurts–“

You burst out laughing, in spite of yourself. “You’re so annoying.” 

And if you slowly make your way back with Haku’s arm still wound around your shoulder and his laugh brushing against your ear, limping closer and closer to the grey drizzle of Hotarubi, well– that’s nobody’s business but your own. 

(Neither of you notice Zenji fading back into transparency, adoring smile gracing his face as he watches the two of you bicker. He has a new idea for a love story to write, after all, and a brother to tail.)

-

Haku winces in pain the moment the antiseptic hits his skin. 

You bite your lip, pulling the cotton gauze away from his cheek. “Sorry.” 

He shakes his head minutely from where he is laid in your lap. “It’s alright. I can take it.” 

You dab around the wound, gentler this time. “You’re gonna have to keep the bandage on for at least a day.” 

“As long as it doesn’t scar,” Haku responds. He blinks slowly up at you, lazy smile spreading across his face. “Damn, if I knew all I needed to do to lay on your lap was to get a little scratch on my cheek I would have done it sooner.” 

You flush, and bop his nose with your index finger. “Stop smiling. I can’t clean your wound.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, and bites down on his lips. The twinkle of mirth in his eyes don’t disappear, though, and it is only a matter of seconds before he opens his mouth again. “Will you give it a kiss after?” 

Startled, you press a little harder on his wound than you intend to, and he hisses in response. “Sorry!” 

Haku groans, hand coming up to brush his cheek before looking up at you like a wounded puppy. “That much against giving me a kiss? I’m hurt.” 

You bite back the thrum of your heart and will your eyes not to flicker to the soft pink of his lips, warm in the bruise-blue of Hotarubi evening. 

“If you’re well enough to flirt, you’re well enough to clean your own wound,” you threaten lightly, instead, and watch as Haku’s eyes crinkle up in a golden smile that sinks right into the butterfly swirl of your stomach. 

You can’t help the responding smile that surfaces on your own cheeks either – there has always been something in the sunlight of his laugh that bubbles through the map of your veins, bright and warm and magnetic. 

God, you’re so gone for him. 

You hastily drop his gaze and drop the gauze, and unwrap the large plaster Jiro gave you. “Stay still.” 

“As you say,” Haku murmurs, then much to the relief of your one remaining braincell, shuts his eyes. 

As you manoeuvre the length of the plaster onto the scratch on his cheek, you thank your past self for turning on the small lamp near the foot of his futon mattress. The scratch looks deeper than you thought in the warm light, an angry red that will scab over only in a few days. You’ll have to grab some hydrocolloid cream from your own stash to make sure it heals well. Maybe you can bring it over tomorrow. 

You run your fingers over the edges of the plaster, gently pressing the adhesive into place before brushing his fringe away from his eyelashes. He still looks exhausted, to be honest, purplish-grey bruising under his eyes both a haunting of sleepless nights past and a promise of sleepless nights to come.

You wonder, for the thousandth time, if there is anything else you can do to help shoulder his burden just as much as he is trying to shoulder yours. 

“If you stare so much you gotta start paying me in kisses, princess,” Haku says softly, smiling, eyes still closed. His hand comes up to cover yours, pressing your palm against his injured cheek. 

“I wasn’t–“ 

Haku hums, amusement threading through exhaustion. He doesn’t open his eyes. “Liar.” 

He intertwines his fingers with yours, shifting your hand so he can press his lips against your palm. The light brush of his kiss against your skin sends your heart racing; the fond gesture fuels the sudden whirlwind that has grown its new home in your throat. “I’ve seen the way you look at me.” 

You open your mouth to retort, but come up empty. God, you thought you were subtle, but everyone and their mothers and apparently Haku himself knows about your big fat crush on him. 

So much for keeping it a secret and living out a quiet rest of the year, really.

His voice is low, words sleep-warm and slurring as he continues, “I could love you like that, you know. I want to. If you’d let me.” 

The drum of the rain against the wooden veranda outside intensifies, filling the space between the both of you. The creaks in the Hotarubi ceilings expand between you and what you are too afraid to have. 

Can you? Can you really, with the sword of your curse hanging over your head? It already feels like you’re taking too much from him, just like this, wrapped in the secret moments you share and tucked into liminal pockets of time you steal between missions. His head on your lap, your hand in his. It feels too greedy, to take what he so readily offers. To agree with him feels like you’re reaching for too much. 

And yet you do not move your hand. 

Haku breathes out. It is too light to be a sigh, too heavy to be anything else but letting go. “Sing me a lullaby, will you?” 

You blink. “Uh-“ 

He settles your interlaced fingers on his stomach. His wrist is still mottled yellow and green from where he blocked an anomaly from flying at you two missions ago; you resist the urge to run your free hand over the bruising. His voice is slow and sleepy as he mumbles a, “Just want to hear your voice, princess. Please?” 

How easily you fold, whenever it is Haku asking. 

When you begin humming your voice is a little shaky, a build of uncertainty and self-consciousness, and you nearly stop if not for the reassuring squeeze of Haku’s hand on yours. You hum through the opening bars of a song whose name you cannot quite remember but is familiar all the same, a star-dusted melody has been trodden into the paths of your brain long before its lyrics floated away. 

The slightly off-tune off-time of your humming melts into the grey of the rain and the warmth of the room; you feel Haku slowly slipping out of consciousness, barely aware of how your hand has come up to rest against the green silken threads of his hair.  

And you know, you know I love you so. 

Haku’s breathing evens out. You skim your thumb over the back of his hand. 

You know I love you so. 

[aquaticmercy]

Hypothetically (version 2)

Summary : Your ragtag group of supernatural superheroes gossip about your love life.

Pairing : Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x superhero!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : References to violence.

Word count : 1.6k

Note : Reader is a superhero, and part of my version of the Midnight Suns in the MCU, including Moon Knight, Elsa Bloodstone, Jack Russell, and Man Thing (Ted). I’ve written two versions of the same story, a Thunderbolts/Bucky POV and a Midnight Suns/Reader POV. Enjoy!

You are reading the Midnight Suns/Reader POV Read the Thunderbolts/Bucky POV here (version 1)

In the dark, cluttered briefing room hidden underneath an ancient abandoned church, you sat at the head of a battered table, glaring down at the rest of your team— who were, unfortunately, all alive and in one piece after your latest mission into the woods upstate.

The mission had been successful, but barely, thanks to the forest fire that Elsa Bloodstone almost started.

Across the table, Elsa leaned back in her chair, nonchalantly picking dirt from under her fingernails, looking not at all like someone who’d almost gotten you all killed. 

Jack Russell, in his usual cool-headed way, gave you an apologetic nod as if to say, I tried my best.

On his other side sat Marc Spector, in full Moon Knight outfit, with a blank expression that betrayed nothing. If you could be grateful for one thing tonight, it would be that Jake Lockley didn’t make an unannounced appearance. Steven did though, but only for a while. He was manageable. 

And Ted, well—Ted sat there, a hulking mass of swamp creature, occasionally rumbling in his strange, guttural language that everyone had learned to understand with relative ease.

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady. “When I said ‘wait for my signal,’ I didn’t mean, ‘light the place up,’ Elsa.”

“You’ve got to admit, it did the job.” Elsa feigned innocence, “Nothing wrong with a little flair.” She smiled at Ted, who let out a low rumble of agreement.

“Flair?” You rubbed your temples, struggling to contain your frustration. “You almost started a wildlife disaster!”

“To be fair, we managed to contain it.” Jack started, ever the voice of reason. He put an arm on your shoulder reassuringly. “And Marc did keep the beast from reaching populated areas.”

Marc nodded stoically, his gloved hands resting on the table. “Just doing my job.”

“Your job,” you echoed, narrowing your eyes. “And who’s job was it to retrieve the intel?”

Ted made a series of low, deep grunts, agreeing.

“Look, maybe if you’d let us do things our own way a bit more, we’d be better.” She shrugged, crossing her arms. 

“Your own thing would’ve been worse,” you sighed, “you would’ve destroyed that forest and everything in it.”

Marc shrugged, “you’re overreacting.”

“I’m not,” you replied sharply, trying to rein in your temper. You glanced around at each of them, finally muttering, “Let’s just… will you excuse me a minute?”

Jack raised an eyebrow, his gaze curious. “Where are you headed?”

“To make a call,” you said flatly, already halfway out of your seat, grabbing your phone from the table. You got out of the chapel, closing the door behind you.

Elsa’s eyes sparkled with sudden interest. She glanced at the others with a mischievous grin. “I bet it’s that Bucky Barnes,” she said, folding her arms and tilting her head, lips curling into a smirk. “I see her texting him all the time. I’ll bet good money that they’re seeing each other.”

Well that, and the fact that last week, when you all visited Kamar Taj, the current Sorcerer Supreme, Wong, had asked you how Barnes was doing.

Elsa figured it was a bit odd, since you don’t work together, but she had pieced together the pieces since then.

“Her? With the Winter Soldier?” Marc’s was skeptical, though he was clearly intrigued. He knew Bucky Barnes by reputation only— but he knew enough. Or at least he thought he knew enough. “I don’t see it. She’s too… stubborn.”

“Too harsh, you mean?” Jack said, though his voice was gentle. “But maybe they work because they’re similar. It would be a good match.”

Elsa snorted. “They’d kill each other over what to eat for dinner. I can’t imagine them sharing a quiet meal in a nice restaurant, let alone being all lovey-dovey.”

Marc’s lips quirked in a grin. “She’d probably throw a knife at him just for calling her ‘sweetheart.’”

Ted gave a few gruff grunts, and the team laughed, nodding in agreement.

Elsa leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “But there’s something there,” she insisted. “You don’t just duck out of a debrief to make a work call. I say, she’s into him, and if I’m right, it’s a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.”

Jack chuckled softly. “I don’t know… maybe she’s different with him.” He tilted his head thoughtfully. “Everyone’s got a soft side. Maybe Bucky’s just the one to bring it out in her.”

“Yeah, right,” Marc muttered. “She’d rip his head off if he tried to get her to open up. And her ‘soft side’?” He shook his head. “It doesn’t exist. Have you even met her, Jack?”

As the group continued speculating, you paced in the hallway frantically.

You pressed call, your eyes softening as soon as you saw that he’d picked it up. You pressed it to your ear, leaning against the wall.

“Hey, my love,” you greeted, your voice dropping to a low, tender murmur. “Is this a bad time?”

“For you, doll? Never,” Bucky’s familiar voice vibrated through the speakers of your pphone. “What’s going on?”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose as the tension of the day finally melted. “Elsa- fucking- Bloodstone. She keeps ignoring the damn plan and doing things her own way. She’s driving me up the wall. Seriously, it’s like every mission is a free-for-all.”

“I can imagine,” Bucky chuckled softly, his warmth seeping through the line. “Alexei is the same way. Only does what he thinks is right. It’s like herding cats.”

You let out a short laugh, your irritation melting. “Can’t imagine he’s that bad. You wanna trade? I’ll give you Ted in exchange for Alexei for a week. Ted keeps distorting my comms every time we’re on a mission—guy’s like a walking jamming signal.”

A smirk crept onto Bucky’s face. “Deal—if I can swap Yelena for Jack Russell. From what I’ve heard, Jack seems sensible, at least doesn’t have a habit of blowing things up on instinct.”

“Oh, no,” you chuckled firmly. “He’s off limits. He’s like my second-in-command. You can take Moon Knight if you want though. Deal with Jake Lockley showing up unannounced, if you’re up for it. Brings Khonsu into everything. Imagine arguing with a literal moon god while trying to stop a giant swamp monster from being captured… again.”

“Pass,” Bucky groaned, laughing alongside with you. “Ava would not get along with Jake or Steven very well. Though Marc—he’d probably handle her alright.”

The sound of your laughter filled his ears, and he felt a smile spread across his face as he imagined you standing there, free from the stress of the job, if only for a couple of minutes.

“Maybe one day,” you mused, “we’ll get them all in the same room. See if they tear each other apart.”

Bucky huffed a laugh. “That’d be a nightmare.”

You corrected, “an interesting nightmare.”

For a moment, the burdens of your responsibilities felt lighter, leaving only the warmth of each other’s voices and the quiet longing that had lingered ever since you started this relationship.

You were dying to touch him, to feel him again, especially after a long day in the office.

And you knew you would tonight. All you had to do was wait for him to come home, but love had a way of drawing your patience thin.

“So,” you said with a hint of playfulness, “would you like to go to dinner tonight? I’m tired of takeout.”

A fond smile curved Bucky’s lips as he replied, “Anything you want, sweetheart. As long as it’s with you.” His voice grew soft, almost shy. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” you whispered, voice barely audible. “It’s hard being apart.”

Behind you, a familiar, low rumble sounded—a grumble from Ted. You turned, rolling your eyes as you whispered, “What did I tell you about eavesdropping on private phone calls, Ted?”

Bucky’s laugh was warm and comforting. “Good luck with that, doll.”

You sighed. “Take care of yourself, okay?” he said softly. “I love you. More than you know.”

“I love you too, darling.”

You ended the call with a slight blush colouring your cheeks, pocketing your phone and turning back toward the briefing room.

You put your best serious face on, turning glaring at Ted, who was attempting to blend into the wall, not that it was remotely possible. Though, you weren’t sure how he snuck up on you in the first place. You raised a finger, whispering sharply. “This stays between us, Ted. I’ll know if you say anything.”

When you walked back into the briefing room, every pair of eyes was on you, brimming with curiosity and way too many grins for you to be fully comfortable.

Elsa leaned in, practically bouncing in her seat, eyes dancing with mischief.

Jack cleared his throat. "So… that seemed like a very important call."

You shrugged, keeping it casual. "You could say that."

Elsa leaned forward, her smirk widening. "Someone special on the other end?"

You raised an eyebrow, trying to keep your tone dry. "Not sure what you’re hinting at, Bloodstone."

"Oh, nothing at all," Elsa replied, "Just saying we’d love to meet this special someone—hypothetically, if it’s who we think it is."

Jack shared a knowing glance with Marc, who was trying—and failing—not to smile.

"Right, hypothetically," Jack added smoothly. "If you are seeing him—and Elsa seems convinced— Sergeant Barnes might come in handy on a few assignments."

"Definitely.” Marc nodded, “Maybe even bring that Thunderbolt crew of his. Wouldn’t mind the extra muscle. If you were hypothetically seeing him, that is.”

You narrowed your eyes, trying to keep a straight face as you walked back to your seat, though a faint smile betrayed you. It was hard to remember sometimes, but no matter how much this group frustrated you, it was the closest thing you had to a family.

It’s times like these— when they relentlessly tease you about a guy who happened to be the love of your life— that you were reminded of that.

Still, you weren’t planning to confirm anything, and they knew it. 

You shot them a pointed look. "How about we get back to the debrief?" you muttered, settling back into your chair and ignoring the amused glances bouncing around the table.

As you continued, you caught Ted flashing you a subtle gesture that looked like a thumbs-up across the table, his own little promise to keep the secret safe with him.

-end

[magicalmutants]

I BLOCK MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS

Thinking about coming back home after a long and exhausting mission when you’re battered and bruised with aching muscles and you’re so tired that you can hardly put a coherent thought together that doesn’t revolve around sleeping or being in your boyfriend’s arms.

Your feet drag on the floor as you shuffle into your silent apartment and all the lights are off except a dim glow coming from the bedroom, which you make your way towards. You hear the shower running in the bathroom and once you reach the door, you push it open to enter the warm, steamy haze that smells dizzyingly like the shower products Suguru uses as you spot him behind the fogged up glass to your shower. You can make out the hazy outline of his lithe body, his side profile to you as he washes his jet black hair, which provides a brilliant contrast to his pale skin. Almost unconsciously, you shed you clothes on the bathroom floor and walk towards the shower, sliding the glass door open and stepping inside.

Now you see him clearly and in sharp detail. Suguru’s eyes are closed as he washes his hair, his back to the hot stream of water. It’s even warmer and hazier in the shower and you already feel your tired and aching muscles start to relax, but whether that’s from seeing you boyfriend or the warmth of the shower, you don’t know. The steam from the hot water is illuminated by the warm glow of the bathroom lights as it curls around Suguru’s head, almost looking like a sort of halo to your tired eyes. And how fitting that is, you think to yourself. A halo for your angel.

Because that’s what he was, after all— your angel. He was the lighthouse in the dark sea that the Jujutsu world can so often be for sorcerers. He was your home. The other half of your soul. You would always find a way to crawl back into his arms. You find yourself reaching for him, the object of your devotion. You reach for his slick, muscular chest, marred by two scars in an X shape — a reminder that you were his saving grace as much as he was yours. He looks so beautiful. He always looks so beautiful.

When Suguru hears the door slide open, he opens his eyes to find you reaching for him with tears in your tired ones. He immediately pulls you into his embrace as he softly tells you he’s glad you’re home, placing a kiss to the top your head. You melt into his embrace, letting him support pretty much your whole body weight. It’s all you can do to keep your legs from buckling in relief. This is where you belong. In Suguru’s arms, enveloped by him so totally and completely. His scent, his warmth, his voice, his body, him. You feel a lump form in your throat as you nuzzle further into his chest.

Suguru coos at his tired girl as he praises you for how well you did on your mission. He reaches for your shampoo bottle and takes some into his hands and begins to massage it into your scalp, all while you cling to his chest. You feel the tension begin to melt from your muscles as he continues his ministrations while telling you how much he’s missed you and how you don’t have to worry about a thing, because he’s going to take care of you.

Your eyelids get heavier and heavier in the warmth of the shower while your boyfriend’s sweet words swirl around the enclosed space along with the steam, his hands and lips on various parts of your body as he continues to clean you up. You sway suddenly, but he steadies you, letting out a quiet chuckle and telling you to just wait two seconds because you’re almost done.

Finally, the shower is turned off and you’re wrapped in a fluffy towel and sat on the bathroom counter while Suguru gently brushes your hair and teeth and works moisturizer into your warmed skin, all the while telling you how good you’re being for him, how proud he is of you for finishing your mission so soon, and how much he loves you. His eyes beam with adoration, even while yours blink open slowly every so often, forcing yourself to stay awake.

Finally, with a gentle kiss to your lips, and a soft let’s get you to bed, Suguru carries you to your shared bed and wraps the two of you up in your puffy duvet. You curl into him as you finally drift off to sleep, lulled into complete bliss by his soft voice and his gentle hands.

[kissedloveletters]

baking, multi (˶ ˘ ³˘)ˆᵕ ˆ˶) how they’re like when baking

characters . sanemi shinazugawa, genya shinazugawa, tanjiro kamado, ◛ 𑙒 ♡ ՞ warnings . fluff、modern au. admin note . aaa its so good to finally be back from a hiatusss !! I missed writing sm, hope this makes me disappearing up! ໒ ᩧ꒱

SANEMI SHINAZUGAWA.

well it’s both of yours second anniversary of being married so why not have some quality time by cooking a cake? seems wholesome, hmm..

you suggested the idea and he thought it was cute so of course he accepted, plus any quality time with you is of course the best, taking the day off of his work for you! how sweet!

theennn, the two of you are idiots and burned the cake twice or thrice, but it’s okay, the fourth time was a charm and came out well!

you slap him once with flour on your hand playfully, he either ignores it and smiles or it turns into a mess, either one that flows your boat.

sanemi learned one thing or two from this experience, that no, cornstarch cant be a replacement for flour and that you two are bad at baking, equally.

alot of ��nemi, can you get that for me?”

defiantly hugs you from behind and watches over your shoulder when you’re mixing, sometimes not watching and closes his eye and snooze a little

wipes the frosting off of your face with his thumb, would lick it teasingly at times but he has table manners

you two made little doodles on the cake with both of you on it.. ( maybe on each other too )

GENYA SHINAZUGAWA.

he defiantly tried to surprise you with cookies and then burned them, then tried again and managed to make them too big; then he’s frustrated how he can’t do a simple thing as baking

but he doesn’t give up, despite the horrid mess he proceeds attempt to clean up while making his 5th batch. it’s for you so he has to give all his efforts even if he feels like it’s impossible for him .

he didn’t check the time he spent and then you came home, to a messy kitchen and a messy genya. he gets so embarrassed and red on his ears.

trying to make excuses to not seem ‘pathetic’ for not being able to bake simple cookies, he’s so cute you couldn’t be mad at him (╥_╥)

TANJIRO KAMADO.

he actually baked and cooked for his family a lot many times so baking with him would be easy since you haven’t done it before, or maybe you thought.

he’s sorta like a mom you tried to help cook and stuff but you kinda ended up in their way somehow, but he really does try to include you while he’s making the pastries for you both

it’s basically almost that “let’s bake but you can only watch” but he lets you mix the batter for the brownies. brownies are hard to make but he defiantly made it alot of times you could count so, you basically have a professional with you!

of course it would end up perfectly with you two eating in delight

[ganggangscenarios]

Platinum Heart (Diamond heart pt.2)

Part 1

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Summary: You get the opportunity to meet Jungkook's friends.

Genre: Romance, comedy, smut, angst

Warnings: Body image. Negative language. Smut

You carefully slide into Jungkook's car, setting your handbag on the floor before fastening your seatbelt. It was Friday evening, and after a long week of work, you were about to embark on a weekend trip with your incredibly handsome boyfriend. All week, he'd been sending you links to cozy cafes and hiking trails near the cabin where you'd be staying. You couldn't help feeling a bit nervous; it was a group trip, and this would be the first time you'd meet his close friends and their partners.

Though your confidence had grown lately-thanks to both your hard work and Jungkook's unwavering support-you still had your insecurities. You couldn't shake the worry of being judged for wearing a T-shirt and shorts to the pool. You'd just reached a place of comfort being in your underwear around Jungkook; the thought of wearing a swimsuit in front of new faces was a little overwhelming.

"I missed you today," Jungkook says, leaning over to steal a quick kiss.

You laugh and roll your eyes. "You saw me this morning!"

He pouts, then kisses you again before putting the car in drive. Soon enough, you're both on the open road, heading toward the countryside for your weekend escape. You gaze out the window, taking in the surroundings as the sun dips below the horizon.

Every now and then, Jungkook glances over at you with a soft smile. He'd been so happy these past few months, feeling like this was the best start to a relationship he'd ever had.

You were a strong advocate for open communication, always encouraging him to share his feelings, and he loved learning more about you-what made you laugh, what moved you to tears, what brought you comfort. He also loved the way you had become more confident with him, especially in intimate moments. Since your first time together, you'd let down your guard and started to believe him when he said he loved your body. It was apparent in the way you'd sometimes take charge, a confidence that made his heart race. The memory of your last night together lingered in his mind, and he tightened his grip on the steering wheel, anticipation building for when you'd finally lock the door to your cabin room.

Suddenly, the soft music filling the car was interrupted by the ring of Jungkook's phone.

He quickly answered, and a deep voice echoed through the speakers.

"Where are you?" the voice asked.

You glanced at the screen and saw the name

'Taehyung'—a name you'd heard often but had yet to put a face to. At least now, you could put a voice to it.

"We're about 30 minutes away," Jungkook replied. "Going to stop at a rest area real quick. I kinda kidnapped her right after work, so l'm treating her to some top-tier rest stop food. I think a corndog sounds good." He smiled at you while he spoke.

Grinning, you placed your hand on his thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze. Jungkook raised an eyebrow, pretending to pull over, which made you laugh.

“I hope the only corndog you’re giving her is the kind that’s battered, dipped in potato, and deep-fried,” Taehyung joked through the speaker. “We don’t want her meeting everyone for the first time looking exhausted.”

“Don’t worry! He’s not getting near me with his corndog until I get the food I was promised!” you shot back, making Taehyung laugh.

“Well, Jimin and Cleo are already at the cabin, and we’re about the same distance away as you,” Taehyung replied. “Let’s meet at the rest stop and drive in together.”

Jungkook agreed, hanging up swiftly.

Before you knew it, you were pulling into the rest stop parking lot. You watched out the window as families exited their cars and headed inside. Noticing an empty spot, you pointed it out, and Jungkook backed in smoothly, turning off the engine. You had to admit, there was something irresistibly attractive about watching him drive.You grab his hand before he has the chance to get out of the car. He’s about to speak when you press your lips to his. You caress his cheek and let your other hand rest at the back of his neck, as your fingers place with his hair. He deepens the kiss, slowly slipping his tongue into your welcoming mouth. You glide your tongue along his for a short while before pulling away.

“I—I thought you didn’t want my ‘corndog’ until you’d eaten. But that kiss… makes it hard for me to let you leave this car.” Jungkook licks his lips, his hand casually drifting to your thigh, barely covered by the hem of your skirt. The fabric had ridden up when you leaned over to kiss him earlier, your sudden move catching him off guard.

You almost suggest that he park somewhere more secluded so you could playfully test just how hard it would be for him to let you out of the car. But before you can say anything, the sound of a loud bang on the windshield startles both of you.

You both look up and see a very handsome man standing there, a wide grin on his face.

“Taehyung!” Jungkook exclaims, his surprise evident as he unbuckles his seatbelt and throws open the door. You watch as the two men embrace, their muffled voices almost lost behind the thick glass of the windshield. A moment later, you hear Jungkook say your name, and both men’s eyes turn to you.

You quickly grab your purse, sliding your phone inside and throwing a glance at Jungkook before exiting the car. Taehyung’s warm, bear-like hug almost knocks the air from your lungs, but you welcome it with a smile.

“It’s so great to finally meet the woman who’s making my bro so happy!” He pulls away, beaming.

“I’m Taehyung,” he adds, flashing you a boyish grin.

You smile brightly in return and introduce yourself. As you do, you notice Jungkook out of the corner of your eye. His posture has changed, the easygoing demeanor that usually defined him now gone. His shoulders are tense, his jaw tight. It’s subtle, but it’s there—a furrowed brow that mirrors the one he gets whenever you greet Namjoon a little too warmly at the gym.

A wave of unease settles in your chest. He’s usually so relaxed, but the presence of his friend, who’s conventionally handsome and kind, has thrown him off. And you can’t help but feel a little guilty for not noticing sooner.

You step away from Taehyung’s hug and walk over to Jungkook, gently grabbing his hand as the three of you make your way towards the building.

“Where’s Sohyun?” Jungkook asks, his eyes scanning the area as if expecting her to pop out from behind a tree or car.

Taehyung’s expression falters, and you instantly recognize it. It’s the same look of hurt and betrayal you’ve worn too many times to count—something familiar, something you know all too well. The kind of expression you never want to wear again.

“Uh… she’s not coming,” Taehyung answers, his voice tight, his words curt.

Jungkook seems ready to probe further, but you gently squeeze his hand, giving him a subtle shake of your head. He hesitates, his brows furrowing, but after a moment, he nods, clearly not wanting to push.

“No worries. I guess it’s just gonna be us three guys and you two girls,” Jungkook says, attempting to lighten the mood.

But Taehyung doesn’t seem so sure. He hesitates again, like he’s unsure how to say what’s on his mind.

“N-no, still three girls,” he stammers, nervously scratching the back of his neck. “I invited someone else. I tried calling you about it, but I needed to pick you up and felt awkward texting about it…” He trails off, looking almost embarrassed.

Jungkook, clearly confused, lets go of your hand and places his hands firmly on his hips, his posture shifting into a fatherly stance. His eyes narrow in that way you’ve seen him do a thousand times, the same way he waits for you to explain why you left a pile of dirty laundry in the middle of the living room.

You look back and forth between them, wondering what this all means. Before anyone can say anything more, a voice calls out from across the parking lot.

“Taehyung! I told you to wait for me!”

You all turn to see a striking woman with shoulder-length brown hair striding toward you, wearing a fitted graphic t-shirt and shorts that show off toned, sun-kissed legs. Taehyung immediately shifts on his feet, turning slightly toward Jungkook, the unease visible in his posture.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, but Jungkook is too stunned to answer. His mouth falls open, and for a split second, you think he might say something, but the words don’t come. His eyes are locked on the woman, as she approaches.

“Taehyung! I told you to wait for me!” The woman exclaims, practically throwing herself into his arms as she wraps hers around his waist.

Jungkook’s face hardens as he takes in the sight. He stands frozen, unable to process what’s happening. That woman—his ex—Jisoo, was now in Taehyung’s arms. The woman who had shattered his heart before you came along, the one who’d made him swear off relationships for two years. And now, Taehyung—his closest friend—was with her.

You can see the shock, the betrayal, the pain flash across his face, but before you can react, Jisoo notices you.

“Jungkook,�� she says, her voice laced with something both familiar and unsettling. You can’t help but notice the way her eyes skim over him—lazily, like she’s assessing what she’s missed. When her gaze finally lands on you, she smiles, though it’s more than just polite. It’s something else, something that feels… off.

You watch as Jisoo’s eyes flick over you—your dress, your posture, the hand Jungkook is holding tightly around your waist. Then, she smiles, almost smugly. “It’s been a while. You look good,” she says to Jungkook, her voice dripping with something you can’t quite put your finger on. Lust? Curiosity? Or maybe something darker?

Jungkook stands silently, pulling you closer to him, his arm instinctively tightening around your waist. You glance up at him. His jaw is clenched, his expression a mixture of frustration and quiet anger. But when he meets your eyes, his expression softens—just for a moment.

He doesn’t need to think about her anymore. Not when he has you. He hasn’t thought about her in so long, not since the day he realized that you were the one who helped him move on, who helped him heal.

He leans down, about to press a quick kiss to your lips, but before he can, Jisoo interrupts them, holding out her hand.

“I’m Jisoo. Nice to meet you,” she says, her tone feigning politeness, but there’s an edge to it. Her fingers hover just above yours, waiting for you to reciprocate.

You glance down at her hand before quickly shaking it, the discomfort in your chest growing. “Nice to meet you,” you reply, trying your best to keep your tone neutral.

You can feel Jungkook’s grip on your hand tightening as he pulls you closer. You glance up at him and, with a soft, reassuring smile, lean your head against his shoulder.

“Where’s that corndog I’ve heard so much about?” you ask, trying to redirect the conversation, your voice light as you move forward with him, away from the awkward tension.

Behind you, you hear the faint sound of raised voices. You don’t turn around, but the conversation between Taehyung and Jisoo seems to be escalating, and you can’t help but wonder what’s really going on between them.

Jungkook told you to pick a table, just the two of you, as he headed toward the brightly colored counter to order your deep-fried snacks. He was insistent on sitting alone, away from your weekend companions. You didn’t ask why, not yet, but you would. The unease in your chest had only grown since you first set foot in the food court, and you had a sinking feeling it was going to get worse before it got better.

Your eyes scanned the bustling food court as you waited for Jungkook to return. Your mind wandered for a moment, but when you looked back toward the table, you caught the unmistakable gaze of Jisoo across the way. She was looking directly at you, her hand casually gesturing for you to come over. You hesitated but felt a strange pull. You dropped your bag onto the seat and, against your better judgment, walked over to her.

“What’s up?” You asked, folding your arms, trying to keep a cool composure.

Jisoo’s smile was wide, but something about it made your stomach twist. The first time she smiled at you, it had felt almost… too perfect. Now, it just made you feel uneasy.

"Taehyung went to get his food," she began, her voice sweet but somehow too syrupy, as if it was trying to mask something. "I thought I’d pop by the convenience store for a quick salad. I figured you’d want to come with me." She paused, giving you a look that felt more pointed than friendly. "Jungkook’s your personal trainer, right? Tae mentioned it to me. He’s usually so strict with his diet. One year, he wouldn’t even eat his own birthday cake. I lost so much weight that year. He was—" She cuts herself off, her eyes scanning you briefly. "But I guess he’s changed."

Jungkook was the one who had encouraged you to be more comfortable with food, more relaxed, to enjoy life without the guilt you’d carried for years. But now, you felt the weight of Jisoo's words sink in, like they were slipping under your skin, poking at a vulnerability you thought was buried.

Her eyes raked up your body slowly, lingering on your midsection. It felt invasive, uncomfortable. You wanted to cover up, but you couldn't, and before you knew it, the pencil skirt you had worn proudly this morning—feeling good, feeling confident—now felt tight, unflattering, wrong. You looked down. The lumps and bumps that you usually tried to ignore now felt all too obvious. Confidence was a fragile thing. It took so long to build, and it only took one look, one comment to knock it down.

Jisoo didn’t stop there. "When we were together, we used to be known as that gym couple," she said, almost as if she were reminiscing. "Always in matching sets." Her eyes gleamed as she glanced at you. "But it’s nice to see that he has other clothes now."

You could feel your pulse quicken, your fingers tightening around your arms as you tried to hold on to what little composure you had left.

She smiled, clearly satisfied with the impact of her words.

"Oh!" She gasped, feigning surprise. "He didn’t tell you?"

No, he hadn’t. He hadn’t told you anything, not about her, not about their past, not about what they’d shared. He’d never mentioned that they had been together, that she was his ex-girlfriend. You knew there was history between them, but the look on his face when he saw her earlier… it suddenly made so much sense. He hadn’t told you. And now, Jisoo’s presence here was more than just awkward—it was a reminder that Jungkook could still be pulled back into her orbit. What if she was the one who got away?

"We’re so... different now," she continued, her eyes gliding over you one more time, as if you were some kind of puzzle. "So I’m sure he’s different with you." She then glanced over your shoulder, catching sight of Jungkook returning to the table.

"Kooky’s back at your table now," she said, her tone far too sweet. "Enjoy your fried goods!"

You didn’t trust her smile as you turned back toward your table. The sinking feeling in your stomach wouldn’t go away. You had to force yourself to sit down, grab your bag, and keep your hands from trembling.

Jungkook smiled at you, his hands holding up the corndog like some sort of peace offering, but the smile didn’t reach your eyes. You didn’t feel like smiling back.

“When were you gonna tell me that Jisoo is your ex-girlfriend?” you asked, your voice low, brow furrowed, lips turned down in quiet frustration.

Jungkook froze. The corndog slipped from his fingers, landing softly on the table. He had planned to tell you, maybe in the car or later that night when you were alone. He just hadn’t expected things to go like this. His mind raced, and for a brief moment, he wished he’d prepared for this conversation.

“Who told you?” he asked, his tone tentative, but there was something about it that didn’t sit right.

You couldn’t believe your ears. He was asking you who told you? After all of her comments, after that whole conversation you just had, he was asking that?

“She did,” you replied curtly, crossing your arms tightly over your chest, a defensive posture that you couldn’t shake.

Jungkook exhaled slowly, running a hand over his face, clearly frustrated with himself. He hadn’t expected Jisoo to spring this on you like she did. The fact that she was here, and the way she’d slipped back into his life so easily—it made him feel small, like he had allowed something to linger that shouldn’t have. But it was never supposed to be this way. She wasn’t supposed to make you feel small.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, though his voice still had that edge of frustration. “I honestly didn’t know she was coming, and I should’ve told you earlier. I just... I didn’t think it’d be like this. I’ll explain everything about her tonight, I promise. But please, just eat something. You’ve had a long day.”

He reached out, taking your hand across the table, rubbing his thumb over the soft skin of your palm, trying to soothe you.

Your eyes lingered over the spread of food—saucy rice cakes, crispy golden corndogs, the fishcake soup—but you couldn’t bring yourself to pick up a bite. Jisoo’s words played over and over in your head, and the last thing you felt like doing was eating.

“I’m not hungry anymore,” you said, offering him a tight, forced smile. “You eat.”

Jungkook’s brows furrowed in confusion, his eyes softening with concern. Something was wrong. He could feel it. He’d seen that look on your face before, and it made his stomach twist. It was the same expression you had when that woman at work had made a comment about your body a few weeks ago—about how she would never eat again and how lucky you were to have a personal trainer boyfriend. That night, Jungkook had reminded you how beautiful you were, inside and out. And it had helped, for a moment. But now, this? It felt like everything was slipping again.

“What the hell did she say to you?” His voice hardened with anger, the protective instinct flaring up in him.

You shook your head, pulling away slightly. The conversation was too much, too soon. You had your walls up, and you weren’t ready to address what had just happened. You communicated, then shut down, and Jungkook had learned to give you the space you needed.

“Babe, please,” he whispered, squeezing your hand. “I want to fix this. Please, let me make it better.”

You looked down at your hands, your chest tight with a mix of hurt and confusion.

“Then take me home,” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jungkook’s eyes widened. This wasn’t how the weekend was supposed to go. You were meant to meet his friends, enjoy the weekend, and for the first time in a while, he had planned to tell you that he loved you. This wasn’t how it was meant to happen.

“If that’s what you want...” he said, his voice heavy with disappointment.

You watched him scramble to find his car keys, his eyes darting across the table.

“They’re in your pocket,” you said, smirking lightly despite everything.

Jungkook paused, then laughed softly, shaking his head at himself. Jisoo, watching from across the food court, looked on with a bemused expression as the tension between you two melted for just a second. But as soon as you both started laughing, she scoffed, hiding it behind a fake cough.

“Something was in my throat,” she said, her smile more knowing than ever.

Jungkook slid into the seat beside you, lifting you effortlessly into his lap. He wrapped his arms around you, his lips close to your ear. You rested your head against his shoulder, the chaos of the world outside temporarily quieting as you found comfort in his presence.

You walk to the car, hand in hand, with a takeout box swinging from Jungkook’s free hand. He’d managed to talk you into staying, promising to make it up to you. Before you get in, you pull him into a tight hug, feeling the warmth of his lips brush the top of your forehead.

“I’m sorry for overreacting,” you murmur softly into his ear.

He shakes his head, his heart swelling with gratitude. He knew you were the kind of partner who understood, who could have reacted so much worse, and he still would’ve understood.

“No,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry for keeping it from you. I should’ve been more open. If it had been up to me, I would’ve driven you home right then—if it meant we’d be okay. I still would. I just want us to be more than okay. I…” He pauses, almost slipping into something more, but he stops himself. Not here, not now. He wanted to tell you perfectly, when the time was right.

“I love spending time with you,” he continues, his voice soft but steady. “And I want to share you with the people I care about.”

He hopes you don’t notice how fast his heart is racing.

You tilt your head up at him, lips puckered slightly. Without a word, he leans down, and you both melt into a deep kiss, the kind that feels like the world stops spinning just for the two of you.

======

Before long, you pull up to a stunning house, its warm lights glowing from within. The lake is dark, the water shimmering silver beneath the moon’s glow. Gravel crunches underfoot as you step out of the car, breathing in the cool, fresh air. You close your eyes for a moment to take it all in, feeling the weight of the weekend ahead. You’re going to make the most of this. You’re the baddest bitch. Nicki Minaj said it best:

"I'm a bad bitch, fuck the bitch. Bitch get slick, I'ma cut the b-"

Your thoughts are interrupted by a shriek, and your eyes snap open to see Jisoo bouncing excitedly.

“It’s bringing back so many memories!” she exclaims. “We used to come here all the time! Right, guys?” She looks to Taehyung and Jungkook for confirmation.

The air shifts. You freeze, a knot forming in your stomach. This is the place he used to bring her—his ex. The realization hits you like a cold wave. You’re about to sleep in the same bed where they once did.

“No, we didn’t,” Jungkook interjects quickly, his tone sharper than usual. “You spent one afternoon here. Once. And you weren’t even allowed inside.”

Jisoo’s face falls, and she quickly glances over at you, suddenly aware of the tension in the air.

“Let’s go inside, babe,” Taehyung says, gently guiding her toward the door, his hand resting on her lower back.

You stand there for a moment, trying to shake off the discomfort, but before you can move, Jungkook grabs your hand, pulling you gently to the side.

You look up at him, surprised by the intensity in his gaze.

“She’s never been inside,” he says, his voice low and sincere. “We never shared a bed here. You’re the first woman I’ve brought here… and you’ll be the last. This place means something different now.”

You feel your heart soften at his words. It’s clear he’s trying to reassure you, trying to make sure you know that this weekend is about you and not his past. You give him a small, affectionate smile and nod, your tension easing a little as you follow him inside.

The house is more breathtaking than you imagined. It’s cozy yet luxurious, warm and inviting with just the right amount of opulence.

“Hi! I’ve heard so much about you!” A man with blonde hair and an easy smile steps in front of you as you slip off your shoes.

“You must be Jimin!” you say, recognizing him instantly.

Jungkook chuckles, kicking off his shoes and pulling Jimin into a bear hug. You can’t help but laugh at the playful exchange between the two men.

“And I’m Cleo!” A gorgeous woman steps out from the kitchen, her smile as bright as the sun. She’s warm and welcoming, giving you a tight hug before you can even introduce yourself.

This is such a contrast to the awkward energy you felt with Jisoo and Taehyung. Cleo's kindness immediately puts you at ease.

She leads you to your room, where Jungkook has already set down your bags. The men are getting things ready outside by the fire pit.

“Jungkook never stops talking about you,” Cleo says as she arranges a few things in the room, clearly excited. “Whenever we call, he spends the first half of the conversation gushing about you. He’s a total softie, by the way. And, I’ve heard all about your French toast. We bought everything he said you’d need! Would you mind making it for breakfast tomorrow?”

You smile at her easy warmth and kindness. She shows you the bathroom and where to find extra toiletries before excusing herself to leave you to get settled.

Once you’re alone, you strip down and hop into the shower, the warm water helping to ease the tension still lingering in your muscles from the car ride and the awkward moments with Jisoo.

When you step out, wrapped in a towel, you find that Jungkook has already brought your bags inside. He’s sitting on the bed, scrolling through his phone, but he looks up immediately when he hears the bathroom door open. His eyes soften as they meet yours.

"Why didn’t you tell me you were going to shower?" he teases, his voice low and playful. "I would've joined you."

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. You bend down to grab some clothes from your bag and quickly pull on a hoodie and a pair of shorts, tucking the latter under your towel.

Jungkook watches you, a suggestive grin spreading across his face, but his gaze is also filled with something else—concern, maybe, or uncertainty.

“What?” you laugh, walking over to the bed, trying to play it off.

He sits up and swings his legs over to sit on the edge, his hands finding your waist. He pulls you close, his head resting gently on your stomach as you run your fingers through his hair.

His voice is quieter now, almost like he’s unsure how to tread. "I don't think anyone would mind if we just stayed in tonight. We’ve got some… making up to do. You know, for the whole 'ex-girlfriend' situation."

His hands slip down to your thighs, his touch gentle but possessive, his eyes searching yours for reassurance. There’s an unspoken question hanging in the air—are you okay?

You give him a soft smile, your fingers continuing to play with his hair as you whisper, “I’m good. I’m here with you. That’s all that matters.”

He exhales, a weight seemingly lifting from his shoulders as he leans into you, his expression softening. It’s clear now: he's more concerned about you than about anything else. You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

He moves his hands to your rump, slightly squeezing as he continues up your back. His fingertips graze your skin as they make the journey to the middle of your back. He feels no resistance, no extra material in the way.

“No bra, huh? It’s like you knew this would happen.” His brows wiggle enthusiastically.

You throw your head back in laughter.

“You just saw me get out of the shower, I didn’t have time to put on a bra!” 

His heart warms at seeing you laugh. He only wants to see you happy, he wants nothing more to be the cause of some of that happiness.

Suddenly, you feel his hand part your thighs, knuckles skimming along the seam of your shorts, the seam that covered your centre. He doesn’t break eye contact as his fingertips feel for your clit under the thin fabric. You bite your lip as you look down at him.

“No panties either? You naughty girl.”

He rubs with more pressure, earning a moan from you. You roll your eyes and push him back, his back lands on the bed. Before he could ask what you were doing, you crawled on the bed and straddled him. He shifted to sit up against the headboard, he brought his hands to rest on your ass.

You kiss him slowly, tongue teasing his. Arms wrapping around his neck. One thing about your boyfriend was that he was vocal. He would whimper, moan, breathe heavily. It was like music to your ears.

He moans into your mouth, deepening the kiss. He was going to make it up to you, show you that you’re the only one he cares about here. He slides one hand under your hoodie, caressing your breast, thumb toying with your now pebbled nipple. You were always to aware of yourself in all situations, especially physical ones. You were worried that you might crush him if you put all of weight on him. To which he told you how ridiculous that claim was. So when it came to making out like this, in this position, you hovered over him, making the space between your crotches so noticeable. Jungkook pushes you down with the hand that now moved to your waist. You feel his hardness under you. You shiver at the feeling. Pulling away, you take a look at him. Wow. This gorgeous man was really yours. He looks at you, his lids half open, lips shining with saliva. He leans into pepper kisses all over your neck. Hands pulling up the edge of your hoodie, he puts his head under it to kiss your breasts, taking a nipple into his mouth. The sounds in the room were borderline pornographic. You moan, pulling at his hair, causing him to nibble. Fuck, you were so soaked right now. You could feel your shorts become damp with arousal.

“Can I fuck you?” He asks, kissing your chest, voice muffled by your shirt.

You grind down on his hardened length. He pulls his head out from under your hoodie, hand going straight for your centre. He groans as he feels the soaked material.

“Please.” He begs. He felt like he wouldn’t be able to breathe if he didn’t get inside you immediately.

---

Just as you were about to speak, a sharp knock echoed against the door.

“Hey, guys, the campfire’s ready. We’re grilling some meat too!” A deep voice rang out from the other side. You recognized it instantly—it was Taehyung, the same voice that had cut through the tension at the rest stop earlier.

Jungkook doesn’t stop touching you, starting to kiss your neck once more.

“W-we’ll b-be out in a minute.” You basically moan out. 

Your boyfriend puts his lips to your ear..His shaky breathes, makes goosebumps appear on your sweaty skin.

“Now he knows what you sound like when you’re about to get fucked good. He might try and take you away from me.” He nips at your earlobe.

Taehyung knocks again.

“Jungkook, bro. I was hoping that we could talk before dinner. You know, clear the air.” 

Jungkook rolls his eyes. This was a slippery slope, was he really that hungry for you or was he trying to avoid the situation at hand. With Taehyung and… Jisoo.

“We should go down.” You whisper, kissing his cheek.

He whines, not wanting to let go of you.

“How can I with this?” He gestures to his eye-catching erection.

You get off him and off the bed.

“Think of Jisoo and Taehyung.” You quip, heading to the bathroom to change your ruined shorts.

Jungkook’s mouth drops open and the blood starts to return to his head. He runs his hands through his hair and gets off the bed and opens the door to Taehyung.

He yells that he was going down, to which you yelled out an ‘okay’ from behind the bathroom door.

---

Jungkook tried to act casual, his footsteps light as he walked down the hallway, avoiding Taehyung's gaze.  

"What do you want to talk about?" he asked, trying to sound as indifferent as possible. 

"Dude." Taehyung stopped abruptly, his voice cutting through the silence. Jungkook froze, not wanting to face this conversation, but knowing he had no choice. 

Taehyung turned to him, a mix of frustration and apology in his eyes. “You mean, about how you're dating my ex-girlfriend? Or how you brought her to a trip where you knew my current girlfriend would be? Or maybe how I thought you were my friend?" Taehyung let out a heavy sigh, his face a picture of regret. 

Jungkook shifted uncomfortably. The words hit harder than he expected, and the guilt started to creep in. But Taehyung wasn’t done.  

"I’m such an asshole," Taehyung muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "I should’ve told you sooner. I shouldn’t have brought her. But Sohyun cheated on me... I was lonely, and Jisoo reached out, and... it just kinda happened. I’m really sorry, man.”

Jungkook paused, the weight of his friend’s vulnerability sinking in. He hadn’t realized just how hurt Taehyung had been until now. He could feel the tension loosening between them, a quiet understanding forming. 

“I get it,” Jungkook said quietly, his voice more sincere than before. Seeing Jisoo again had stirred up some unwanted feelings in him, but the one thing he was sure of was that he had you now—and that was enough to move past the past. He didn’t want to lose his friend over something like this. "Just... as long as you're happy, man. That’s all that matters.”

He pulled Taehyung into a brief hug, the tension dissipating like a long-awaited breath. 

You stepped out of the room just in time to catch the two friends in a rare moment of understanding. The tension between them had eased, and for the first time in a while, you saw them act like the friends they once were. 

The campfire crackled in the distance, the laughter and warmth drawing you in. You saw Jimin and Cleo sitting close by, Cleo perched comfortably in his lap as she flipped the sizzling pieces of meat on the grill. Jisoo was absorbed in taking pictures of the moon, her camera clicking away. You smiled softly, imagining you’d be doing the same thing soon. 

Suddenly, Taehyung appeared by her side, wrapping his arm around her waist and pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. The sight of them felt unexpectedly sweet, and for a moment, you forgot about the tension with Jisoo. 

You made your way over to Jimin and Jungkook, who was already settling in beside you. Without missing a beat, Jungkook grabbed a bottle of Soju, spinning it expertly in his hands before pouring six shots of the clear liquid. 

Everyone gathered around the table, and with a shared look, you all raised your glasses. The burn of Soju slid down your throat, smoother than expected but still with that familiar heat. You winced slightly but grinned as you set the glass down.  

The table was littered with empty bottles, the air buzzing with the energy of the group. The men—Jungkook, Taehyung, and Jimin—decided to put on a hilarious impromptu performance of Beyoncé’s *Halo*, using empty bottles as microphones. You couldn't help but laugh at their antics, your stomach tight with the joy of the moment.  

Cleo clung to you, her voice low and soft as she hummed along, her presence soothing. She’d been so kind to you all evening, stepping in whenever Jisoo tried to poke at your insecurities. And Jisoo *did* try a lot—her words were sharp, but Cleo's attention was always just a little bit more piercing. You couldn’t help but feel grateful for her friendship. 

Jungkook, ever the protective boyfriend, kept you under his arm all night. He’d feed you whenever you seemed to pause, leaning in to whisper that you needed fuel for later. His voice was loud enough for everyone to hear, and you could feel the heat rise to your cheeks. The others noticed, too, and you instinctively buried your face into his shoulder, embarrassed and strangely comforted by his possessiveness. 

Jisoo, meanwhile, had tried her best to make Jungkook jealous, but it hadn’t worked. She’d kissed Taehyung passionately in front of everyone, all the while peeking at Jungkook to see if he was watching. But he wasn’t. 

The evening carried on in high spirits. But just as you thought things couldn’t get any better, a loud splash interrupted the laughter. You walked away from the table, drawn by the noise. As you rounded the corner, you saw a pile of discarded clothes near the lake. The group had jumped in, all of them splashing around in the cool water. 

Jungkook emerged from the lake, dripping wet and looking impossibly attractive. His hair clung to his forehead, and his broad shoulders glistened in the firelight. You couldn’t help but smile, but at the same time, a voice in your head hesitated. 

You’d been working hard on your fitness, especially since you’d met Jungkook, but compared to the others—Cleo, with her confidence, and Jisoo, who exuded a certain effortless beauty—you felt self-conscious. You weren’t ready to strip down and join them in the water. Not yet. 

Jungkook’s voice broke through your thoughts as he called your name, waving excitedly before Jimin jumped onto his back, both of them tumbling into the water. 

You laughed, shaking off your insecurities, and moved to sit on a nearby sunbed. The sight of the group—so carefree, so full of life—felt freeing, and for a moment, you let yourself enjoy the evening without overthinking. 

It didn’t take long before the group emerged from the lake, their laughter ringing out as they ran back to their clothes. Jisoo, spotting something, let out a loud gasp.

“Kooky! We’re matching!” she pointed out, her eyes wide in mock surprise as she realized both she and Jungkook were wearing matching Calvin Klein underwear.

Jungkook shot her a quick look, rolling his eyes at her antics. Without missing a beat, he sprinted toward you, dripping wet, and you instinctively tried to push him away, not wanting to get soaked. 

"Not for long," he said with a mischievous grin, pulling you closer. “These are coming off when we get upstairs.”

You giggled, your heart racing as you looked him over. The sight of him—wet, muscular, and teasing you—was almost too much. He really was a dream, too good to be true.

Jisoo glanced over her shoulder, ensuring that you were well out of view, before she lowered her voice and turned her attention fully to Jungkook. Her usually calm demeanor shifted, and there was a hint of seriousness in her eyes.

“Is this some sort of charity thing? Or do you feel bad for her? Dating a client, really Kook? Or wait… I think I know. It’s a tactic, you’re trying to keep a client by fucking her? Trying to do one of those ‘before and after’ pics right?  How do you even do it? Even with your eyes closed-“

Jungkook stops her venomous words.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Jungkook’s voice was low, each word dripping with contempt. “Stop trying to worm your way back into my life. And leave my girlfriend the hell out of this. You’ve done enough damage already.”

He took a step forward, fists clenched at his sides, the anger in his chest almost too much to contain. “I should’ve walked away the second I saw you. But no, I brought you here because I wanted her to see who I used to be. To understand the people who were in my life. Then I realized... I shouldn’t even have to explain myself. You’re not part of that anymore.”

Jisoo opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off, his voice harder this time, like shards of glass. “You always cared about how you looked, didn’t you? About how you made me feel when I was with you. You didn’t give a damn about me. About what I needed. But I’m not the same guy I was back then. I’ve moved on... And somehow, I ended up with someone who sees me for who I am, not some image, some damn trophy. Someone who actually cares about me.”

Jungkook’s chest heaved with the weight of it all, the anger mixing with the pain he hadn’t allowed himself to feel before. He jabbed a finger in her direction, voice breaking through the air like a warning. “I’m with someone who is beautiful inside and out. Someone you’ll never be. Not in a million years.”

Jisoo wasn’t going to back down, though. That damn stubbornness in her wouldn’t let her. She took a step forward, her eyes gleaming with something dangerous, almost predatory.

“Don’t you miss us?” she asked softly, the words thick with nostalgia and something darker. She moved closer, her fingertips grazing the waistband of his boxers with a familiarity that sent a jolt through his body. “Don’t you ever think about how we used to be? About the way we felt when it was just us?”

Before Jungkook could shove her away, your voice sliced through the air, cutting off the moment entirely.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Jungkook watched you from across the room, his chest tightening as you distanced yourself from him—again. His eyes flickered between you and Jisoo, who stood too close, too perfect, like she always had. He hated the way it made you pull away, the way your shoulders seemed to fold in on themselves, as if you could disappear entirely.

Jisoo was everything you weren’t. Confident, poised, effortlessly beautiful. The kind of woman Jungkook used to be drawn to. And here you were, standing in the shadows, trying to shrink into yourself. He could see it in the way your eyes darted around the room, never meeting his, never fully present. You didn’t think you belonged here. Didn’t think you belonged in his life.

He couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand how you looked at yourself like that.

Jisoo’s voice broke through his thoughts, sharp and taunting, and the pain in your eyes deepened. He knew exactly what was happening—Jisoo’s presence was triggering the worst of your insecurities, dredging up every fear you ever had. That voice in your head telling you that you weren’t good enough, that he deserved someone better. That you didn’t fit.

Jungkook’s heart pounded, his chest a heavy weight as he watched you take a step back, retreating even further into yourself. He hated seeing you like this. He couldn’t let you keep thinking you weren’t enough, not when he was standing right here, trying to make you understand how wrong you were.

“Hey.” He moved toward you quickly, his voice soft but urgent. His fingers found your arm, pulling you gently but firmly back toward him. You flinched, like you were afraid he might let go at any moment.

He didn’t. He wasn’t going to.

“You know she’s just trying to get to me, right?” he said, his voice low, filled with a quiet frustration that he could never fully express. He could feel your eyes on him now, but you weren’t really seeing him. You weren’t with him. “She doesn’t have any power over me anymore. I’m with you. Not her. And I’m not going anywhere. You’re everything to me.”

Your gaze flickered to his, but there was still so much doubt in your eyes, so much uncertainty. You were still hearing Jisoo’s voice in your head, still thinking that somehow you didn’t belong here.

“You’re too good for me,” you whispered, your voice small, fragile. The words cut through him in a way he wasn’t prepared for. “I’m not... I’m not like her. I’m not—”

Your words trailed off, and Jungkook could see the weight behind them. He could hear everything you couldn’t say—the fears, the worries, the thoughts that told you you didn’t deserve him. That you couldn’t ever measure up to Jisoo, or to the women he could have.

It wasn’t the first time he’d heard this, but each time it felt like a punch to the gut. He hated it. Hated that you couldn’t see yourself the way he saw you.

He stepped closer, cupping your face gently with both hands, tilting your head up so you had no choice but to meet his eyes. His heart was racing, but he pushed through it, fighting back the flood of emotions that threatened to choke him.

“You’re not just someone,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, every word deliberate, every word soaked with the weight of everything he felt for you. “You’re my someone. And I don’t give a damn about anyone else. I never did.”

You didn’t look away, but your expression was still clouded with doubt, like you didn’t believe him. The truth was right there, staring you in the face, but you couldn’t take it in, couldn’t let yourself believe it.

“I don’t deserve you,” you said quietly, the words breaking in your throat. “You’re... you’re Jungkook. You could have anyone. Anyone but me.”

Jungkook felt his chest tighten, the ache in his heart growing as he heard the words that had haunted you for so long. How could you still think this way? He wanted to scream, to shake you, to make you see just how wrong you were. But instead, he leaned in closer, his thumb gently brushing away the tear that had fallen from your eye.

“You’re not just anyone,” he said, the words steady, unwavering, even as his hands trembled slightly. “You’re the one I want. You’re everything I need.”

The way you looked at him, still unsure, still struggling to accept his words—it broke him. He wasn’t sure what else to say, but he knew one thing for sure: he wasn’t going to let you go on thinking you weren’t enough. You were more than enough. You were everything he needed.

Without thinking, he pulled you into his arms, wrapping you tightly in the warmth of his embrace. He buried his face in your hair, his chest rising and falling in time with your breaths.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured against your ear, his voice low and full of sincerity. “Always. You’re safe with me.”

You let out a shaky breath and clung to him like you were finally letting yourself believe it, like you were finally allowing yourself to be loved. The tension in your body eased, just slightly, and Jungkook held you even tighter, his heart beating in rhythm with yours.

He didn’t care about Jisoo. He didn’t care about anyone but you. And if he had to spend the rest of his life showing you just how much you mattered, he would.

You needed space. You mutter a quiet reply when jungkook asks you if you were okay. You head up to the bedroom, locking yourself in. Jungkook was feeling a mix of emotions.

Jungkook stood there for what felt like an eternity, his forehead still pressed to the cool surface of the bedroom door, the silence around him growing louder with each passing second. He wanted to say something—anything—to bridge the distance between you, to take away the hurt he could hear in your silence. But he couldn’t. Not yet.

The sound of footsteps broke his thoughts, and he instinctively straightened up, wiping his hands over his face in frustration. He knew who it was before he even turned around.

Jimin.

His best friend had a way of knowing exactly when things weren’t right. Maybe it was because he’d seen Jungkook go through the motions more times than he cared to count. They’d been through a lot together—highs, lows, heartbreaks—and Jimin had always been there to help Jungkook find his footing again. This time, however, felt different. Jimin had to know something was off, and he wasn’t the type to stay silent when he could see someone struggling.

"She’s still in there, huh?" Jimin’s voice was gentle, but Jungkook could hear the knowing tone. He didn’t have to answer—Jimin could read him like a book.

Jungkook let out a long, tired breath, his voice low. “Yeah. I just... I don’t know what to do, man. I feel like I fucked up. She’s just so... I don’t even know what she’s thinking right now.”

Jimin stepped closer, leaning against the kitchen counter as he folded his arms. He studied Jungkook for a moment, his eyes soft but thoughtful. “I think you’re both overthinking this,” he said finally, the words calm but with the weight of experience behind them.

Jungkook looked up at him, the frustration still clear in his eyes. “Overthinking it? She’s in there, and I’m out here, stuck trying to figure out how to make things right, and all you’ve got is ‘overthinking’?”

Jimin smirked, but it wasn’t the teasing smile he usually wore. It was something softer, more understanding. He was being serious.

"Jungkook, calm down." Jimin’s voice was steady, but there was a certain compassion in his tone that Jungkook could feel even through his own agitation. “Look, I know you want to fix things right now. I know you hate that she’s upset. But you need to remember something."

Jungkook shifted, his gaze drifting back to the bedroom door as if he could somehow see through it to you on the other side. He didn’t know what was more difficult—the waiting or the feeling that he wasn’t sure how to make it all better.

Jimin continued, his voice gentle but firm. “It’s not always about fixing everything in the moment. Sometimes, she needs time to process what happened. What you need to do is give her that space—because you pushing and pushing won’t change anything.”

Jungkook shook his head, his frustration boiling over. “I don’t want her to think I’m just leaving her to deal with this alone. She’s my responsibility, Jimin. I want to fix it now, before it gets worse.”

Jimin raised a hand, cutting him off, and stepped forward, placing a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. “I get that. But here’s the thing. You’re both carrying something. She’s carrying her own set of fears and insecurities—things you might not even fully understand. And you—you’re carrying your own fear that you’ll lose her. The pressure to make everything right is weighing on both of you. But the only way you’re going to get through this is if you’re patient. With her, and with yourself."

Jungkook looked at him, feeling a mixture of gratitude and frustration. "It’s just... Jisoo. She keeps getting in the way. I can’t stand seeing her upset when she thinks I’m just some kind of rebound, that I’m only here because I don’t care enough to be with someone like her.”

Jimin’s expression softened. “I know that’s hard to watch. But let’s be real. Jisoo doesn’t define your relationship with her. You know that better than anyone. If she’s in your past, then she’s in your past. What you and she have—what you and your girl have—that’s different. Don’t let anyone, even someone as complicated as Jisoo, mess with what you have now.”

Jungkook let out a long breath, his shoulders slumping as he ran his fingers through his hair. “I want her to believe me, man. I want her to see that she’s not some... replacement. That she’s everything to me.” He paused, his voice softening. “I’m just not sure how to make her feel like she’s enough.”

Jimin nodded thoughtfully, his gaze steady on his friend. “The fact that you’re worried about it—that shows you care. You’re already doing the hardest part, Jungkook. You’ve been loving her the best way you know how, and that’s more than what most people do. But she has to believe it in her own time, on her own terms. You can’t force that. What you can do is be there. Be the kind of man she can trust to stand by her side, no matter what. Show her with your actions.”

Jungkook took in the words, letting them sink in. He’d always been quick to act, to fix things, to find a solution. But Jimin was right. This wasn’t something that could be solved with one grand gesture. It was a matter of trust—and sometimes trust took time to build.

“Yeah...” Jungkook muttered, looking down at the floor. “I just wish I could make her feel like she’s worth it. I hate seeing her think she’s not.”

Jimin clapped him on the back, the gesture light but reassuring. “She will. You just have to be patient. And don’t get so caught up in trying to fix everything all at once. You’re not perfect, and neither is she. But that’s why you guys work. Because, at the end of the day, you’ve got each other. And that’s enough.”

Jungkook let out a slow breath, feeling some of the tension ease from his shoulders. Maybe Jimin was right. Maybe this wasn’t something that could be fixed tonight. Maybe it wasn’t even something that could be fixed with words. But he could give her space. He could give her time.

And when she was ready, he’d be there.

“I’m gonna go give her some time,” Jungkook said quietly, his voice softer now, more certain. “But I’m not giving up on her. On us.”

Jimin grinned, his usual playful smirk returning. “That’s what I like to hear. Now go. Let her know you’re there for her, but don’t push. She’ll come to you when she’s ready.”

With one last reassuring clap on the back, Jimin turned and walked back toward the living room, leaving Jungkook to face the reality of what was to come. But this time, Jungkook felt something he hadn’t felt in a while: hope.

The sounds of laughter and quiet conversation had gradually faded as the night wore on. One by one, the group had trickled off to their rooms, leaving Jungkook alone in the living room. The weight of the night pressed down on him like a heavy fog, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing, something undone.

Jisoo’s sudden appearance had wrecked the calm he’d tried to create between you and him. And now, with everyone else gone, he was left with nothing but the soft hum of the house and his own swirling thoughts. The feeling of helplessness—of wanting to fix things, but not knowing how—gnawed at him.

He sat down on the couch, his muscles sore from the tension that had been building all night. He tugged his t-shirt over his head, letting the fabric fall into his lap as he leaned back into the cushions. The cool air of the house brushed over his skin, but it did nothing to cool the heat rising in his chest. The way you had retreated into yourself earlier, the walls you’d put up—he hated it.

This wasn’t supposed to happen, he thought. Tonight was supposed to be about you. About letting you meet the people who meant the most to him, letting you know just how serious he was.

But somehow, it had all gone sideways. And now, he was left here, alone, with nothing but his own self-doubt to keep him company.

Jungkook stayed up for hours, his mind turning over the events of the evening—how Jisoo’s presence had made you pull away, how he hadn’t been able to say what he needed to say. The words were there, right on the tip of his tongue, but they felt useless now, like they wouldn’t be enough to make you see that you were everything to him.

Eventually, exhaustion caught up with him, and his body gave in to sleep despite the whirlwind of thoughts that kept him wide awake.

The sound of footsteps broke the stillness in the room, pulling Jungkook from a restless sleep. His eyelids fluttered open, his vision blurry for a moment. He blinked, disoriented, and then he saw you sitting on the edge of the couch, your legs tucked under you, watching him with a quiet intensity. The faint glow of the nightlight illuminated your face, and despite the heaviness in the air, there was something about you that felt... softer.

Jungkook's heart thudded in his chest as he rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. His throat felt dry, and the words he had been dying to say all night were still heavy on his tongue. But now that you were here—so close, and yet so far—it felt like he was back to square one. Vulnerable, unsure.

“Hey,” you said quietly, your voice carrying a gentleness he hadn’t expected. Your eyes were slightly red, but there was no anger in them—just that quiet sadness that had settled over you earlier.

Jungkook sat up slowly, clearing his throat, unsure of what to say. He wasn't sure what kind of reaction you were expecting, or if you'd even want to hear what he had to say. He was terrified that, in trying to fix things, he might only make it worse.

"Hey," he replied hoarsely, the words coming out shakier than he wanted. His voice still carried the weight of everything he'd been holding back, and for a second, he wished he could just take all of it and say it at once, get it out. But that was never easy for him.

He cleared his throat, trying to steady himself, but his thoughts were a mess. "I... I don’t know where to start," he muttered. "I’m sorry for earlier. I never meant to make you feel that way." His voice wavered, and he looked down at his hands for a moment, afraid to meet your eyes. "I should’ve... done better. I should've been there for you in a way that actually made you feel like you belong, not like you were just... some outsider."

You shifted on the couch, your hands curling into your lap. You looked away briefly, as if gathering your own thoughts, before turning back to him with a quiet, but steady gaze.

"I just... I don’t know how to be what you need sometimes," you admitted softly, your voice shaking a little as you spoke. "I feel like I’m too much, or just not enough. Like, when I see someone like Jisoo... I think, how could someone like you really want someone like me?" Your words cracked with vulnerability, and it made Jungkook’s chest tighten painfully.

The truth of your insecurities hit him like a physical blow. He wanted to say something—anything—to make it better. To erase the doubt in your voice. But the words stuck in his throat. He was scared. Scared of saying the wrong thing, scared that maybe he wasn’t enough for you either, and that you might never truly believe how much you meant to him.

He swallowed hard and reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he brushed his fingers along your arm, trying to comfort you, even as he struggled with his own fears.

“No,” Jungkook whispered, shaking his head as if to dismiss the thought completely. “That’s... that’s not it at all. You’re everything to me.” His voice faltered, and his heart raced in his chest. He hesitated for a moment, the words almost too heavy to say, but they were there—just waiting to be spoken. “I... I don’t care about anyone else. I don’t care about Jisoo. She’s my past. You’re... you’re my present. You’re who I want, who I’ve always wanted.”

He looked down at his lap, unsure of how you were processing what he was saying. The fear of rejection still lingered in the pit of his stomach. What if you didn’t feel the same? What if, in trying to be honest, he only pushed you further away?

You were quiet for a long moment, and Jungkook couldn’t bring himself to look at you. His heart pounded as the seconds stretched into what felt like forever.

But then, you spoke.

"I just don’t get it. I don’t know why you’d want someone like me, when you could have someone like—" You paused, your voice catching. "Someone like her."

Jungkook’s pulse quickened. He didn’t want you to keep questioning it, to keep doubting what they had. He needed you to see the truth.

He reached for you, his hands gently cupping your face, bringing your eyes back to his. This time, there was no hesitation. He had to say it, even if his voice was thick with fear. “You don’t get it because you don’t see how incredible you are. How beautiful, and kind, and strong you are. You’re not too much—you’re more than enough. You’re everything to me. I’m not with you out of convenience or because I don’t have better options. I’m with you because I love you.”

His heart raced as he let the words linger between you, almost as if the weight of them was too much to carry. He held his breath, terrified of what you might say next. He waited, his hands trembling, as the silence stretched out.

You blinked, staring at him as if processing his words, the emotions swirling in your eyes. He couldn’t read your face, and the uncertainty gnawed at him.

But then you whispered, your voice barely audible, “I love you too.”

Jungkook’s chest surged with relief, a weight lifting from him as he heard those words, but it was still soft, fragile. There was more to say, more to understand, but right now, in this moment, it was enough.

And for the first time in a long time, Jungkook felt like he wasn’t just waiting for the storm to pass—he was finally standing on solid ground. With you.

Finally! Hope you guys like it. If you don't, please keep it to yourself, no mean comments please :)

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Helo there! What do you think about Harry's and Neville's friendship? And the aspect of both of them possibily being the chosen one?

I like Neville and his dynamic with Harry, even if I don't think they're that close.

Like, Harry is more of a mentor for Neville with the DA rather than a friend who's a peer.

in fact, he barely spoke during D.A. meetings anymore, but worked relentlessly on every new jinx and countercurse Harry taught them, his plump face screwed up in concentration, apparently indifferent to injuries or accidents, working harder than anyone else in the room. He was improving so fast it was quite unnerving and when Harry taught them the Shield Charm, a means of deflecting minor jinxes so that they rebounded upon the attacker, only Hermione mastered the charm faster than Neville.

(OotP)

And I think Neville keeps looking up to him as a symbol and a leader less than as a person.

Nevertheless, his battered visage shone with happiness as he let go of Hermione and said again, “I knew you’d come! Kept telling Seamus it was a matter of time!”

(DH)

Neville kinda idolizes Harry in a way.

That's why I don't think they are particularly close, but they do care about each other. Harry feels a bit sorry for Neville and a little protective over him:

A hatred such as he had never known before was coursing through Harry like poison. He could see Black laughing at him through the darkness, as though somebody had pasted the picture from the album over his eyes. He watched, as though somebody was playing him a piece of film, Sirius Black blasting Peter Pettigrew (who resembled Neville Longbottom) into a thousand pieces.

(PoA)

“Doesn’t matter. They don’t want to spill too much pure blood, so they’ll torture us a bit if we’re mouthy but they won’t actually kill us.” Harry did not know what was worse, the things that Neville was saying or the matter-of-fact tone in which he said them.

(DH)

And he does trust Neville a lot. Both Harry and Neville have full faith in each other which I really like:

Dumbledore had died knowing that three people still knew about the Horcruxes; now Neville will take Harry’s place. There would still be three in the secret. “Just in case they’re—busy—and you get the chance—” “Kill the snake?” “Kill the snake,” Harry repeated. “All right, Harry, You’re okay, are you?” “I’m fine. Thanks, Neville.” But Neville seized his wrist as Harry made to move on. “We’re all going to keep fighting, Harry. You know that?” “Yeah, I—” The suffocating feeling extinguished the end of the sentence; he could not go on. Neville did not seem to find it strange. He patted Harry on the shoulder, released him, and walked away to look for more bodies.

(DH)

They have a sort of quiet understanding and while their friendship isn't super close, they do care about each other and like each other. They could've probably been good friends if they were given the chance to interact more. (That's another reason why I love DADA professor Harry with Herbology professor Neville to give them that chance)

Their dynamic, if they were to get closer, kinda reminds me of an older brother & a younger brother due to how much Neville looks up to Harry and how Harry is protective over Neville.

As for both of them being the Chosen One, well, they aren't both the Chosen One. Only Harry was Chosen at the end of the day. But, I think that by the end, Neville is a truer Gryffindor than Harry.

In book 7 Harry failed to retrieve the Sword of Gryffindor:

When Ron offered the sword, however, Harry shook his head. “No, you should do it.” “Me?” said Ron, looking shocked. “Why?” “Because you got the sword out of the pool. I think it’s supposed to be you.” He was not being kind or generous. As certainly as he had known that the doe was benign, he knew that Ron had to be the one to wield the sword. Dumbledore had at least taught Harry something about certain kinds of magic, of the incalculable power of certain acts

(DH)

The sword that only appears to a Gryffindor in need:

What was it, Harry asked himself (walking again), that Dumbledore had told him the last time he had retrieved the sword? Only a true Gryffindor could have pulled that out of the hat. And what were the qualities that defined a Gryffindor? A small voice inside Harry’s head answered him: Their daring, nerve, and chivalry set Gryffindors apart.

(DH)

rejected Harry, but embraced Neville:

In one swift, fluid motion, Neville broke free of the Body-Bind Curse upon; the flaming hat fell off him and he drew from its depths something silver, with a glittering, rubied handle—

(DH)

Add to that Harry's use of Unforgivables in book 7, and I feel like Harry was supposed to embrace his Slytherin characteristics in this book as a theme of the narrative, you know? Like the rejection from the sword and Harry needing to be more cunning than ever should've been this sort of closure. Of Harry's understanding, not all Slytherins are evil and he himself is a bit of a Slytherin and embracing it. It would've worked so well with Snape's story and the themes of the book, truly a missed opportunity to not make this idea of Harry finally saying "yes Slytherin" instead of "not Slytherin", and embracing the fact he is a bit of a Slytherin while Neville, who was terrified to be in Gryffindor, who asked the hat to place him someplace else, embraced being a Gryffindor fully. They have kind of small parallel barley-there arcs in a way that I found interesting in my current reread of Deathly Hallows. Like, I feel there was an intention there, as Harry does feel he is less of a Gryffindor throughout this book, even though he still is, I'm talking about his feelings on the matter.

I think this idea is there, just not as explored as I would've liked it. It is just interesting that the Sword of Gryffindor chose Neville as the true Gryffindor but rejected Harry who is the Chosen One because he was chosen by the Heir of Slytherin. Idk, I feel like there is something there.

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

guh

[twin-yards]

it is completely one hundred percent baffling to me that any of the foxes would come away from witnessing neil and andrew's reunion in baltimore with the opinion that their relationship was just hate fucking . like my brother in christ are you blind

[cosycafune]

SCREAM UNTIL HE BREAKS YOU:

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being fought by ovulation is hard, but trying to fuck yourself with your angry roommate around is harder. it doesn't help when he storms into your room, enraged, begging to angrily fuck you and soothe his heavy balls. the only requirement is for you to survive the night. can you?

acts: sizing, creampies, rough sex, degrading, breeding kink, filming, spanking, mating press, backshots, crying, bed breaking, choking, power difference kink, missionary, masturbating, and potentially more. mdni 18+. reblogs are appreciated. masterlist. quite short. 1.5k words.

jjk men: satoru gojo, kento nanami, toji fushiguro, choso kamo and suguru geto. art by sakimenz on patreon.

satoru gojo ♡ · · ୨୧ ˚₊

“Fuck, Satoru! Ngh! So close!” Plunging your fingers so frantically inside you, flustered by the thought of being pounded by your roommate, you accidentally mewl loudly. 

“‘Need you…so badly,” Swiftly coming undone, you soppily bury your fingers further – panting before you hear your bedroom door swiftly open.

Met with the furious scenery of an angered Satoru, your heart swirls with embarrassing anticipation. Unable to shed your mortification, you gasp at being completely exposed – your slick fingers snuggly within your cunt.

Satisfied, you heavily pant – greeting the longing within Satoru’s eyes. Crumbling beneath Satoru’s story-filled gaze, you gently pull your fingers out with a lewd squelch – attempting to hide your gushing release. Your cunt is completely soaked, fluttering over nothing – perfectly facing an intimidating Satoru.

“Why’d you stop?” Taunting you, Satoru wickedly grins, “Heard you moaning my name, so don’t act shy now.” Relishing your embarrassment, Satoru stalks over to you – tension-filled.

“S-Sato’!” Naively battering your lashes, you turn to your side – faced with the scenery of Satoru’s monstrous erection.

Paired with his anger from losing a basketball game, you knew you would be destroyed and irreparably damaged.

“You were begging for it, so it’s time for you to take it,” Intrigued at your flustered state, Satoru speaks – subconsciously cupping his caged cock.

“D-Don’t hold..back,” Battering your lashes, you propose that Satoru completely strip you of your worth – breaking and moulding you for just him.

✥﹤┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈﹥✥

Smushed against Satoru, you’re barely able to breathe – shoved into the meanest mating press by him. Your coherency is lost while Satoru vigorously plunges his cock within you, filling your cunt with his inhumane cock. His veiny, anger-carry cock almost kissed against your cervix with each rough collision, leaving you as a beautiful cage for his anger.

“Don’t get mad… when I fill you,” Glancing down at a sobbing you, overwhelmed by his swift cock, Satoru lustfully smiles.

“Ah! ‘M yours! Strengthening his degrading pace, you repetitively moan – mentally stunted by a stupidly smug Satoru.

“Mhm, so…handle every inch,” Satoru grunts out, momentarily pulling out before burying himself deeply in your warm cunt – splitting you apart with his twitching.

“Imma…good girl,” Crying, pleading for Satoru to reconstruct you, he happily finishes within you – unwilling to free you as his fruitful seed shot against your cervix.

“Hm, you are,” Momentarily praising you, Satoru finishes again – his large batch of cum coddling your pampered cervix.

–

kento nanami

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Perched before your laptop in the living room, you softly toy with your soppy clit – attempting to rid yourself of your orgasm. Settling on the couch like this was risky, but the Twitter porn video you watched completely consumed you. Your ovulation cycle broke your rational thinking, leaving you to fuck yourself with a dildo – fixated on the fact that the couple looked like you and Kento.

“Kento! ‘M taking you!” Sinking the dildo within you, you almost scramble at the front door opening – unable to gift you time to flee.

Listening to the door slam shut, your chest shatters at Kento’s notorious footsteps stopping behind your couch. Trembling, feeling his gaze on your cunt, you gulp. Gulp as the dildo’s so deeply within you, his tension something you could feel from ages away.

“Screaming my name?” Kento’s deadpan tone causes you to swirl with timidness, unsure of what to do.

“I-I’m s–”

“--Don’t apologise now,” Obeying Kento’s response, you wait, “I’ll take my anger out on you since you’re so rough with yourself.” Walking around the couch, Kento finally glances at you – hatred welling in his eyes.

“Mhm, guess I’ll have to thank your mission going wrong,” At your misplaced teasing, Kento hurriedly pulls the dildo out of you – shoving it into your mouth.

“I will not go easy on you,” Making a promise, Kento begins to madly shed his clothes. Kento’s lust-coated from your irresponsibily nude frame, perched so prettily before his hungry gaze.

You gave yourself away to a monstrous version of himself. Rough sex is his favourite whilst angry.

✥﹤┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈﹥✥

“Mercy…Kento!” Obliterating your swollen cunt, Kento harshly slaps your ass – making sure that his large balls bash against your sensitive clit.

“Until you say…your safeword,” Picking up his speed, Kento burrows your head further into the couch – filling your stomach with his girthy cock.

“C-Can’t…handle,” Blurting your strained plea, completely at his mercy, Kento grows animalistic – fucking you with an impossible might that makes you dizzy.

“I’ll…break you,” Kento threatens, crashing his weight against your perched ass – smacking your stinging bubble butt.

“Ngh!” Incapable of complaining, you scream as Kento’s cock twitches – cumming in you at a speed that makes your teary eyes roll back.

“Not done with you, sweetheart,” Pleased, Kento angrily converses, “Keep that ass up,” Commanding you, Kento grins – panting mercilessly.

toji fushiguro

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“‘Need to…ride Toji! Ah!” Finishing against your vibrator, you desperately grind against it – savouring your sensitive clit.

“Need…to sit on his…cock,” Weeping, shuddering at the thought of Toji overwhelming you with his strength, you almost collapse with pleasure.

Fantasising about Toji, you tenderly rub your tingly clit – irredeemable. Such a thing was forbidden, but you find yourself consumed – ovulation tearing up your every thought. Every thought until you gasp one of your plump breasts, harshly squeezing your taut nipple.

“Toji–”

“--Stop calling my name!… Wow.” With precision, Toji swings open your bedroom door – halting midspeech.

Beautifully astonished, Toji almost falters – captured by your nude physique grinding against a vibrator. Grinding with desperation, moaning out his name with discouraged desperation – hungering for his divine cock.

“I didn’t mean to–”

“Don’t tempt me and think you’re getting away,” Licking his lips, Toji thrives within your nerves – responding to you with predatory intent.

“Please, I’m ovulating,” Unable to quell your physical turmoil, you pathetically plead for Toji to either break you or impregnate you.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

“I’ll…get you pregnant,” Thrusting his cock into you, Toji passionately grunts – forcing you to ride his bucking cock.

“Yes! Fill… me up,” Close to toppling over, you barely manage to handle Toji’s fat cock stretching out your cunt – closing in on your vulnerable womb.

“Mhm, I'll take you…like this every day,” Toji greedily musters out, a frantic moaning mess at your soppy cunt completely gripping him – tender at finishing so many times.

“‘Want…to not breathe,” Desperate for him to destroy you, Toji pushes you down to the base of his cock – watching you almost scream with pleasurable agony.

“Being…pregnant will do just that,” Grinning, Toji whimpers – bucking his hips consistently before he fills you with his ripe seed.

He wouldn’t let you rest until he tore your sanity apart.

–

choso kamo

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

“Mhm, my pussy’s so empty,” A desperate mess, you’re yearning for cock — physically willing to hunt for it. Your lonesome cunt yearns to be stuffed with cum.

“Cho’, you’d…stuff me well,” Grunting, a profound mess, you whine intensely — desperate for Choso to obliterate your primal cunt.

“Ah! Cho!” Fucking yourself in your bedroom, filling the apartment with your moans, you fail to notice the silent presence lingering before your door.

Choso.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Before you knew it, your physique was folded, clouded with the thickness of Choso’s cock. Usually, Choso’s tinted with softness. However, softness failed to be his forte this time. With Choso angry, his demeanour held not an ounce of gentleness — roughness filling him.

“Baby, look…at me,” Choso harshly commands you, glancing down at a pretty you within missionary.

“Ah! Cho’!” Corrupted by Choso, you prettily moan — completely worshipping Choso’s cock.

As he’s about to cum, the two of you hear your apartment door open — but that doesn’t stop Choso from cumming his deepest inside of you. If he had to, he’d make you carry his child. A sign of you handling his brutal thrusts, contradicting his usually aloofness.

suguru geto.

Naturally, Suguru’s always two steps ahead. Even as you intensely thrust your fingers within yourself, he can’t help but observe you from your parted door — listening to you beautifully moan his name. Moan his name so dirtily, your dignity barely holding on.

“Sugu’,” That’s all it took before Suguru despicably pounced on you, filling you with his cock — his degrading camera filming you. Filming you as he accidentally broke your bed, pounding into you at a might that completely ruined your cunt. Your cunt that screams and squelches, torn apart by Suguru’s bubbling, cunning anger.

All until he cums inside of you, swelling your stomach with his cum as a reward.

sukuna.

Before you could even play with yourself, Ryomen’s already on you — fucking you angrily. Love bites, slap marks, and choking overtook you. Ryomen left no stone unturned, completely ruining your cunt — shoving you into the meanest mating press. Not an ounce of you could breathe, but Ryomen couldn’t care less. If he needed a sexual outlet, that would now be a precious, naive you.

do not modify, claim or repackage my work. all rights reserved; cosycafune. 2024. small dividers by cafekitsune <3

[shoyudon]

𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒𝐍'𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐈 𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓 .ᐟ

them forgetting a date night.

starring. gojo, sukuna, toji x fem! reader

heads up. cursing, no fluff, sukuna can use a phone (bcs u taught him lol /j), sukuna calling u "woman"

note. haiii, how are you guys doing? make sure to take care of yourself!! i'm feeling a bit angsty today, so i'm gonna write a bit of angst. i miss gojo, like so much u guys :( i might make a part two for this btw hehe

──────〃★ 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

the one thing you hated more than people being late was people who don't keep their promises — your boyfriend wasn't an exception to it. gojo's a busy man, you get it. for months you haven't been able to see him because he was so caught up in the jujutsu world; he saves people dan and night from lingering curses that it broke you a bit.

the jujutsu world treats him like a weapon; and you never liked it. despite your constant battering on him, trying to get him to quit and just settled in for a quiet life, he tells you that he can't. that people needed him, and you felt selfish.

but isn't it fine to be selfish sometimes?

clutching onto your phone, you'd tried dialing gojo's number at least six times before he answers. his voice groggy and slow, as if he had just woken up from a deep sleep, "huh . . . hello?"

you wanted to yell at him, especially because he was the one who has been reminding you about this particular date night — and he was the one to forget about it, "good sleep?" you ended up asking him, voice hard.

"y/n . . . why did you—"

"why did i call? oh, i don't know. maybe because my boyfriend stood me up for an hour and a half. i look like an idiot sitting here, satoru," you mutter out in embarrassment, avoiding the lingering gazes from both waiters and waitresses around you.

for the past hour, you've lost count of how many times you'd ask them to refill your glass of tea — embarrassing. then telling them you were waiting for someone when they tried to ask you if you were going to order anything since there were people waiting for a table, just for the said person not showing up.

"what time is— oh, fuck. baby, i'm so sorry, i fell asleep when i was work—"

before he could finish his words, you finished it for him, "working. i get it, you're always working. clearly, you don't have time for anything else, right?" you ask him, signaling the waiter nearby for the bill.

"baby, i know. i'm so sorry, i'm on my way, okay? please," he whispers. you could hear a few shuffling on the background; along with a few curses he muttered under his breath as he stumble over his feet, mind hazy from all the sudden movements he was doing despite just waking up.

"no need. i'm leaving the place," you mutter, walking out of the restaurant — heels clacking on the pavement, "and 'm leaving you, because clearly you're not ready for a relationship, so bye."

gojo yells out, "what? no, baby. i swear — i'll make it up to you, please. don't leave me . . ." he rambled on the same words over and over again, "where are you? i'm picking you up. please, can we talk about this? i'm sorry, i know i should've—"

"bye, satoru," and with that you ended the call.

──────〃★ 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍

you fiddled the hem of your dress as you sat inside the almost closed restaurant, the last speck of hope you had on your boyfriend —sukuna— dissipating into hopelessness. standing up you walked over to the cashier, taking out your card to pay for the one glass of shrimp cocktail and one glass of white wine.

the cashier shot you a sympathetic look, and you didn't dare to look her into her eyes. face hard from embarrassment and shame, "thank you for coming, come again next time, ma'am . . ." she bids you goodbye as she returns your card.

walking out of the restaurant that now had the 'closed' sign flipped made your stomach churn in mixed feelings: anger, embarrassment, shame, sadness, everything all at once.

sinking your nails onto the palm of your hand, you muttered out strings of curses. you knew being in a relationship with someone who had no understanding to the concept of love was a hard thing — but honestly, you thought you got a hang of it. all this time you had been nothing but patient with sukuna, but maybe even that wasn't enough for him.

three hours. you sat alone inside the restaurant you booked for the both of you for three hours — each hour depleting your hope even more. and sukuna just managed to fuck it up even after he said he'd try. well, you should've underlined the keyword there: he said he'd try not that he'd come.

maybe you saw it coming yet it still disappointed you anyways.

your phone rang. even before you see who it was — you knew it's none other than sukuna. your heart screamed at you to answer his phone call, but your mind told you to leave it ringing because you were in no mood to talk to him. yet, at the end — you still pressed the answer button.

"what?"

"where are you?" his rough voice echoed through the line as you walked down the nearly empty street, holding onto your purse, "place's closed."

scoffing, you answered, "'f course it's closed, it's almost ten. i've been waiting for three hours, ryo. three hours."

you could hear him inhale sharply, "i was caught up with something, woman. where are you now?" he questioned. hearing a few car honking behind on the background, "where are you? answer me."

"doesn't matter, i left. and i'm leaving you, i was wrong thinking maybe i could've changed you — turns out, i couldn't. good luck to you," you mutter out sternly.

sukuna raised a brow, "y're kidding."

you weren't, and all he could hear next was the loud dial tune of the other line hanging up — now did he realize that this was all serious and you were actually leaving him for good.

──────〃★ 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

you sighed, dialing toji for the first time of the night when he said that he was going to pick you up for a date, the phone rung for a while before going into voicemail. grumbling under your breath, you tried dialing him again for the second time, which ended up the same way.

all these time spent on makeup and picking out the best outfit — all for nothing as your boyfriend, toji failed to show up on time. angry, you tried calling him again for the third time, only for it to end up in voicemail yet again. this time you decided to leave a message for him.

"hey, you forgot. didn't you? hope you're happy with yourself, cause 'm not."

dating toji wasn't the easiest — but you love him, no matter what he was like. and it was stupid of you to do so, all this time you've defended his name against your friends' malice towards him, saying how he wasn't treating you well enough and that you deserved so much better.

despite all that, you love him. disregarding their words, retorting back to how toji treats you well, which he does — except for the times he tended to forget about everything, even you. maybe it was time to open your eyes and actually break up; because you did deserve better than this.

it would be a shame to let all this makeup go to waste, and so you hailed a cab and decided to go out for a treat. and made the best out of everything, that is until toji decided it would be the most convenient time to call you back amidst your little "me time".

wiping your hand on the napkin, you answered him, "huh, you're alive," you muttered out, huffing.

he sighs, "i forgot, sorry." you couldn't see him, but toji actually looked remorseful, already on his way out of his apartment to yours, "i'm on my way."

you chuckled, "doesn't matter. i left my house," you informed, taking a bite out of the crab meat, "so don't bother coming — and i don't think i don't deserve this kind of treatment from anyone, even you, toji. i'm breaking up with you because clearly you don't take this relationship as seriously as i am."

toji furrowed his brows, "i forgot, i fucked up, i can make it up. where are you right now?" he asks, his voice still as calm as cucumber. but the look on his face contradicted the tone of his voice.

"bye, toji. good luck."

© shoyudon 2024 . no copying or reposting allowed !

[luvyeni]

( reaction ) telling them you aren't wearing panties ! ୨୧ 一 스트레이키즈 ՞

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ skz reaction to you not wearing panties ヾ

boyfriend!스트레이키즈・ fem!reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ smut ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ cw ・ no penetration , pet play? , degradation wc ・ ‎1.2k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

request. hii I hope you remember mee~ it's okay if you don't tho I'm just here to ask I'd you could do a similar reaction to this one with riize but with skz instead. The one saying their reaction to not wearing any panties on the date. Thank you so much I love you and always remember to stay safe <333

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 here you go ! enjoy it love <3

﹙ 𐙚 : bangchan ﹚ .ᐟ

thought his eyes were deceiving him; surely you would wear underwear with a skirt that short. he didn't say anything until you slid into the booth and he could see your ass poking from under the skirt , he slid right in making sure no one saw you. “what the fuck?” he sat down next to your. “where are your fucking panties babygirl?” he gritted through his teeth , just as the waiter was about to make his way over to your table. “i didn't wear any.” he could see that , what he couldn't figure is why the fuck were you trying to turn him on in this restaurant right now. “you're we already paid for the reservations.” he said , kissing your temples because the server was close. “what can I do for you guys?” he waited for the boy to leave before turning back to you.

“daddy is gonna ruin you when we get home , trust baby.”

﹙ 𐙚 : lee know ﹚ .ᐟ

he knew you were up to something , the fact that you were a little too excited to get out of the car and into the restaurant. “you must be really hungry huh?” you didn't say anything though , but that glint in your eye and that smirk he swore he saw made him curious. “what are you up to?” he said. “nothing” you smiled “innocently” and he damn sure wasn't buying it. “i have to go to the bathroom.” you got up leaving the boy alone , not even 2 moments later his phone buzzed , he picked it up , your plans becoming evident. “i fucking knew it.” he cursed. you sat back down to a seething lee know. “fucking slut you aren't wearing any underwear.” you giggled , knowing he wouldn't do anything in public , but you knew you were also done for after the date , he leaned over so you could only hear him.

“let's see if you find it later when your pussy is battered from cock and you still haven't came.”

﹙ 𐙚 : changbin ﹚ .ᐟ

you knew changbin couldn't resist praising you. “binnie , binnie look at my new shoes.” he genuinely wanted to see the shoes , looking under the table , only to be met with your legs widened. his head shot up looking at you with wide eyes. “b-baby.” he was flustered , it made you giggle. “where are your panties?” he whispered , you shrugged. “didn't feel like wearing any.” he was bewildered honestly , turned on but bewildered , he didn't even give a fuck about those shoes anymore not the food. “give me a minute , gonna pay the bill.” he stood up. “wait what about the food?”

“I'll ask them to wrap it up to go , no way im gonna sit through dinner knowing how wet you are sitting across from me.”

﹙ 𐙚 : hyunjin ﹚ .ᐟ

you knew your man loved to take pictures of you during your dates , so it was perfect. you waited for him to get up from the seat to “use the bathroom” you knew he was just going to pay the bill so you wouldn't try and pay , but you let it be — quickly slipping into his seat , taking your panties off , looking around before slipping them into his jacket pocket. you smiled as you slipped back into your seat as he came back down. “how was the bathroom?” he smiled , knowing he was caught. “let me take a few photos baby.” he reached into his jacket , furrowing his eyebrows as he pulled out the lacy material. he smiled, shoving the panties back into his jacket. “you little minx.” you giggled. “my favorite pair too.”

“we should skip dessert so we can get home and i can take some photos of you laid out in bed all pretty for me.”

﹙ 𐙚 : han jisung ﹚ .ᐟ

you purposely dropped the fork on to the floor, and the poor boy just trying to be a good boyfriend crawled under the table to get it for you — only to be met with your legs wide open , your bare pussy on display. a small “fuck” leaving his mouth making you smirk as he came back from under the table , his face red as he sat the fork down. “yo-you're not wearing any panties.” he whispered , his hands coming up to his cock , fixing himself. “wh-why.” he whined , upset because he was unable to do anything because you had already denied his request to leave. “i want dessert , don't be selfish sungie.”

“why would you show me if you were just gonna torture me like this baby , im gonna cum just sitting here thinking about it.”

﹙ 𐙚 : felix﹚ .ᐟ

“i think i left my lipstick in the car.” know felix kept a spare always in his pocket for you. “don't worry baby i go it.” he reached into his jacket pocket next to him. “what is this?” he innocently took out the lace , eyes widened as he shoved it back inside. “baby when did you do that?” he said , he was sure you were wearing them when you left the house , he was in the room when you were getting dressed. “i took the off when you went to pay the bill.” he gulped adams apple bobbing. “baby fuck it's hard enough to see you dressed so pretty for me , but knowing you're pussy is probably dripping on to the seat is painful love.”

“let's skip dessert tonight , i got something else sweet i want to eat and i don't think i can wait until we get home.”

﹙ 𐙚 : seungmin ﹚ .ᐟ

you knew it would piss him off — that's why it was perfect to do it to him. your heart was racing as you hit send on your phone , your legs shaking as you watched him pick up his phone to read the message , his eye lifting up to yours , filled with a lust filled angry glare. he didn't say anything , lifting up the table cloth looking under , quietly coming up. “can't take a mutt like you anywhere can i?” he growled , you were dripping for him. “i want to go home.” you whined , needing him. “no , you're gonna sit there until the date is over.” he said , you rolled your eyes. “don't think because we're in public i won't embarrass you , i'll make you kneel right here.” you immediately stopped unsure if he was serious, but you weren't about to test that theory.

“act like a bad dog and i’ll treat you like one , let's see how funny you think this stunt is later.”

﹙ 𐙚 : jeongin ﹚ .ᐟ

was he already looking at your ass? yes , yes he was — but that was besides the point , he could easily tell you were missing your panties through the dress. “sit the fuck down.” he hissed , you pretended to be confused , tilting your head in fake innocence. “are you fucking joking?” he growled , leaning over the table. “you aren't wearing any fucking panties.” he wanted to wipe that smile clean off your face. “didn't want panty lines.” you shrugged him off. “waitress is coming.” he could care less about the waitress. “then you wear a thong or something , i don't know.” but you wave him off. “this look is much better.” the waitress coming closer , he leaned over whispering one final threat.

“laugh now baby , shit won't be funny when your ass is sore and pussy is begging for my cock and you don't get it.”

©LUVYENI

[choerrypuffs]

red velvet hearts.

pairing: bad boy!donghyuck x baker!reader

genre: fluff, slight angst

word count: 7.7k

synopsis: you patch up a boy with a bloody nose and bruised knuckles, only to find out that he has quite the sweet tooth.

author’s note: why do i keep injuring hyuck in all my fics lmao??? anyways i tried to write his character a bit differently than i usually do to challenge myself so please let me know how you guys like it! also remember, ladies: this is fiction. you cannot fix him <3

warning(s): brief description of injuries, mentions of violence, maximum amounts of cringe and melodrama

playlist: all my ghosts by lizzy mcalpine ― heart eyes by coin ― close to you by gracie abrams ― sidelines by phoebe bridgers ― the alchemy by taylor swift

RECIPE 1. TIRAMISU

“This is not what I meant when I said you need your back blown out.” 

“Not funny. I almost died,” you grumble as you wrap the back brace around your torso. You hate the immediate relief you feel from the support it provides, no longer able to tell yourself that it’s really not as bad as it seems―which only makes you angrier. 

“Throwing your back out while lifting a giant bag of flour and nearly getting crushed to death by said flour is genuinely the funniest fucking thing I’ve ever heard,” Yeri, your best friend (derogatory), snorts as she shakes her head. “I wish you had cameras in the storage room because I want to see that shit so bad.”

“Thank you for the brace. You can get the hell out now.” You roll your eyes. 

“So, what are you going to do now? Aren’t you swamped with orders?” Yeri asks, ignoring you completely. 

You have no clue what you’re going to do now. It isn’t just orders you have to worry about fulfilling; it’s also the freshly baked pastries that you have to sell every morning. After a year of blood, sweat, and tears, the bakery that you built from the ground up is finally starting to gain some stable business. So, of course, you chose now of all times to try to lift a bag of flour over your shoulder like you were Dwayne The Rock Johnson. 

“I think I’ll have to hire some temporary help,” you answer begrudgingly. 

“You could sound less like someone is holding you at gunpoint,” Yeri snorts, “Come on. It had to happen sooner or later anyway.” 

“I was handling things just fine on my own.”

“Were you, though?” Yeri raises an eyebrow, gesturing to your current state. 

You fear you walked right into that one. “Shut up and help me make some posters.” 

The two of you eventually manage to whip up some haphazard “Help Wanted” posters, the letters written in glitter pen and Yeri’s clumsy bubble text. You tried your best to fill in the empty gaps on the construction paper by placing Pompompurin stickers that you normally give to customers’ kids all over it. The posters look like a nine-year-old girl’s school project gone wrong, but you hope it’s charming enough to catch some attention. 

By the time you and Yeri finish hanging up all the posters, the sun is already starting to set, and all you want to do is go home and put a heating pad on your back. After saying bye to Yeri, you start making your way back to the bakery to lock up. Once you arrive, you notice a figure dressed in black slumped over in front of the door. You can see their shoulders rise up and down as they take in labored breaths, leaning against the glass door for support. 

Every rational fiber in your being screams at you to not approach the stranger alone, but it’s not like you can just leave this person at the front of your place of business. Cautiously taking a step forward, you squat down to eye level with the stranger, wincing slightly from back pain. Through the sweaty and matted mess of his brown fringe, you can see that the stranger is a young man around your age. However, his face is absolutely battered: bloody (and almost certainly broken) nose, split lip, black eye swollen shut, and a jagged cut on his cheek. If he notices your presence, he doesn’t show it, keeping his head hung down.

Gingerly placing a hand on his arm, you give him a small shake. “Excuse me? Are you okay? Do you need me to call an ambulance?” 

His brows furrow, and he opens an eye (the only one he’s probably able to open) with a wince before lifting a finger and putting it against his lips. You notice that his knuckles are completely scraped raw. 

“Not so loud. I’m okay,” he answers. 

“You don’t look―” 

As if on cue, his stomach rumbles with a guttural growl that slowly drawls into a sputtering gurgle before dying out all together―leaving a long silence to hang between the two of you.

After another beat, he gives you a sheepish smile. “You got anything to eat?” 

You stare at him for a moment; his face is flushed, pink all the way down to his neck. 

And like a stupid horror movie character who opens the door to a room that clearly screams danger, you nod. 

.

.

.

Fortunately, he―Donghyuck, as he introduced himself―ends up not being a crazy ax murderer. 

Unfortunately, you find yourself awkwardly sitting in your closed bakery with a virtual stranger, fiddling with a first aid kit while watching him absolutely devour a piece of leftover tiramisu that you had in your fridge. If the situation wasn’t so insane, you might actually think it was pretty funny. For someone who looks the way he does, this current picture of Donghyuck absolutely doesn’t suit him―bruised chipmunk cheeks stuffed with ladyfingers and cocoa powder stuck on his split lip. 

When he’s finished, Donghyuck looks over at you with a mesmerized expression on his face, as if you just fed him ambrosia. There’s a softness to his face that you didn’t think could exist underneath all that grime and dried blood. 

“That was…delicious,” he breathes. 

“Thanks,” you snort, pushing a glass of water towards him. Unsurprisingly, he chugs it in the blink of an eye. “I still think you should get those injuries checked out, though.” 

“Nah, I’ll rub a little spit in them and it’ll be fine,” he shrugs. 

“Don’t be gross,” you sigh, scooting your chair closer to him as you set the first aid kit on the table. “Now, come here.” 

Donghyuck reluctantly dips his head, and you carefully cup his jaw for support, disinfecting and applying ointment on the cuts and scrapes on his face. You also clean up the dried blood near his nostrils and on his bottom lip, and he doesn’t flinch even when you accidentally brush tender areas like his broken nose or the gash on his mouth. Instead, he stays perfectly still, leaned back in the chair with his forearms resting on his thighs and fingers nonchalantly laced together. 

He keeps his gaze trained on something past your shoulder, and you also try your best to focus, but it’s hard to keep yourself from staring―especially when his demeanor has changed so much. He’s so calm and quiet in such a cold, ruthless manner, as if he’s physically steeling himself from pain―like he’s done this a million times before. Occasionally, you feel his eyes swipe across your face when he thinks you’re not paying attention, and it occurs to you how close the two of you are. Suddenly, you’re acutely aware of the heat of his skin against your palm and fingertips, and you rip your hand away from his jaw. 

Clearing your throat, you move onto his hands, dabbing his raw knuckles with a cotton ball soaked in alcohol before placing large band-aids on them. Despite your best efforts, it’s hard not to notice how slim his long fingers are or how surprisingly clean his nail beds are for someone who’s covered in blood. You keep your head completely bent, fighting the urge of looking up and possibly meeting his eyes. 

“There, all done,” you announce a little too loudly. 

“Thank you,” he says softly, “for the cake and for this. For helping me.” 

“Don’t worry about it. I didn’t do much,” you blurt, still avoiding eye contact as you clean up the table. However, you notice in your peripheral that his gaze follows your movements, almost hesitantly, before he asks: 

“So, you’re hiring?” 

You click the first-aid kit shut, blinking a few times before turning back to him. He looks at you with a raised eyebrow, waiting for an answer.

“I―yeah. How did you know that?” you ask, puzzled by such a random question. 

Donghyuck points at a poster that you didn’t even know you left here, sitting on the table right behind you. You realize that he was probably looking at it while you were patching him up. 

“That poster that says ‘help wanted.’ With the Pompompurin stickers. I’m actually in between jobs right now, so if you would have me―”

“You know Pompompurin?” you interrupt him. It’s not that important and should not stand out to you as much as it does. Yet, you can’t help but grin at the fact that someone like him knows about a tubby Golden Retriever character with a name that sounds like a mashup of the English language’s most adorable onomatopeias. 

Donghyuck trails off, stiffening as if you just found out his deepest, darkest secret. He opens his mouth slightly, trying to speak but unable to formulate a response―an excuse, rather. Instead, he just lets out an airy cough, putting a hand over his mouth and turning away from you in an attempt to obscure his face. Despite his best efforts, he can’t hide his glowing red ears and the way his earlier coldness melts away.

“I―yeah,” he responds, words slightly muffled by his hand. 

You struggle to maintain your composure as you gnaw on your bottom lip to keep from laughing. Fighting a smile in your voice, you finally say: 

“The pay won’t be that much, but you’ll get a bunch of free desserts at the end of the day. Are you okay with that?” 

It takes him a moment to process that you’re offering him the job, and you watch his eyes light up and a warm smile overtake his face. There’s still a light shade of pink dusting his cheeks, clashing with the purple bruising and swelling of his injuries. 

“I’d love nothing more.”

Suddenly, it occurs to you that Donghyuck somewhat reminds you of a tiramisu. 

He may look a bit rugged and grimey, bitter like coffee, but in actuality, underneath it all, he’s soft and fluffy (but not too sweet) like a mascarpone filling. 

RECIPE 2. BLUEBERRY PIE

“Are you out of your mind?”

You cringe away from your phone, hurriedly turning the volume down. “Damn, you don’t have to scream like that.” 

“You should be the one screaming,” Yeri hollers. “I better not come over one day and find your body stuffed in the freezer or something.”

“I thought you wanted me to hire someone!” 

“Not some random dude off the side of the street who was covered in injuries and doesn’t even have any baking experience,” Yeri hisses. 

“I don’t need him to bake. I just have him working the front counter and doing all the heavy lifting when I get my ingredient shipments,” you protest. “Did you think I would really just hand over all my orders to some random dude and go party it up in Cancún or something?” 

Yeri is silent for several seconds before asking, “He’s hot, isn’t he?”

“What?”

“So you did know what I meant when I said you needed your back blown out.” You can hear the smugness in her voice. 

“Yeri,” you say tiredly, “please be serious.”

“I am serious. You’re the one being unserious,” she retorts. “Yesterday, you acted like you would rather sacrifice your firstborn child before hiring a part-timer, and now look at you. Dickmatized.” 

“Okay, I’m hanging up now.”

“So, when do I get to meet him―”

You quickly hit the button to end the call and shove your phone into your pocket, letting out an exasperated sigh. You definitely won’t be hearing the end of that for a while. Your face feels warm for some reason, and you decide that you need a coffee break. After you finish making it, you pour yourself and Donghyuck a cup. 

You peek your head out from the curtain that separates the kitchen and the front counter to see if Donghyuck is busy. He’s politely chatting with an elderly woman, and your eyes nearly pop out of your head when he takes out the entire tray of egg tarts in the glass display and wraps it up for her. The woman happily hands him a wad of bills and waves him goodbye. After putting the cash in the register, Donghyuck turns around and catches you in the middle of gawking. 

“Oh, Y/N. I was actually just about to head back there. We’re out of egg tarts for the display,” he says nonchalantly. 

“Uh, yeah, I can see that,” you whisper loudly, “Was that Mrs. Kim? Why the hell did she order a dozen egg tarts? That woman can barely finish a single cookie.” 

Donghyuck blinks, clearly confused, whispering back, “She asked for my recommendation, so I said egg tarts since no one had bought any yet, and she said she would take all of them.” 

You pause, things finally clicking. Grinning knowingly, you say, “You know, having you work the front is doing wonders for sales.” 

“I don’t understand.” He furrows his brows. 

You laugh, handing him his cup of coffee. “I’m talking about your face card, Donghyuck. You’re too handsome, so you’re flustering the customers.” 

“Are we not whispering anymore?” he asks awkwardly. “Besides, that’s not true. Look at the state of my face right now.” 

His injuries have faded significantly, but the bruising and cuts are still there. You want to tell him that superficial wounds can’t mask the warmth in his caramel-brown eyes, the fullness of his cheeks and the sharp jawline, and the air of mystery that enshrouds him and draws people in. 

But you don’t. 

“Well, for someone who’s only been working here for two weeks, you’re doing superb. Injuries or not.” 

And it’s true. You’ve always preferred to work alone because you’re the only one who understands how you want things done. You naturally assumed it would be a hassle and a waste of time to try to explain to someone else when you could just do it yourself, but Donghyuck never seems to need an explanation. In fact, he knows before even you. 

He gets to the bakery three hours before you, cleans and preps all the equipment you need for the day, unloads the ingredient shipments, and is already manning the front counter by the time you arrive like it was no big deal at all. He also seems to have a sixth sense of knowing when you’re about to do something you shouldn’t be, even though you downplayed your back injury. He’s somehow always there―moving all the stuff you keep on the top shelf to somewhere within your reach even though you insisted that the rickety wooden step stool you use is perfectly safe, cleaning up a glass beaker that you accidentally shattered, taking out the trash during his breaks, checking in on you when you skip lunch. He even turned down his first paycheck, saying it’s repayment for patching him up and feeding him. 

Donghyuck is so perfect that sometimes you wonder if you’re being set up, like maybe he’s secretly embezzling money from the cash register―which would be a more viable theory if he didn’t drive an Audi to work everyday. 

“Thanks for the compliment. And the coffee,” Donghyuck says, snapping you out of your thoughts. He gingerly takes a sip and makes a strangled noise, a mixture being choking and retching, before slapping a hand over his mouth. 

“Are you okay? Was it too hot?” you ask worriedly. 

“No, it’s just…really bitter,” he mumbles, words muffled in his hand. 

“Oh,” you blink, “Sorry. I drink black coffee, so I forgot to ask if you wanted creamer and sugar. Come on, there’s some in the back.” 

The two of you head to the kitchen, and you watch him dump an exorbitant amount of creamer and sugar in his coffee, the dark roast swirling into something more akin to milk tea.

“You know, there might be some chocolate milk in the fridge if you’d rather that,” you tease. 

His head shoots up, those doe eyes lighting up. “Really?” 

“No,” you trail off awkwardly, “Sorry, I'm just messing with you.” 

It’s a bit adorable that you can visibly see him being disappointed in there not being chocolate milk before growing embarrassed, looking down at his cup. He turns away from you, but you can see the flush on the back of his neck. 

“You really have a sweet tooth, huh?” you laugh. 

“Pretty lame, right?” 

“Why would that be lame? You’re talking to someone who owns a bakery, in case you forgot.” 

Donghyuck smiles at you, and it’s sugary sweet like buttercream frosting. He looks at you like you just said the most wonderful thing in the world; in fact, he always makes you feel like that, no matter what you say or do. “I guess you’re right.” 

“What’s your favorite dessert?” you blurt, needing a distraction urgently. 

He pauses briefly. “I don’t think I have one.”

That actually surprises you. “You don’t? Even though you love sweets so much?” 

He laughs, the sound harsh and rough, and it almost makes you flinch. “I’ve never really had an opportunity to have many until now.” 

There’s clearly weight behind his words, but you know you’re not in a position to ask any further. A selfish part of you wants to be important enough to him that you are in a position to know more, but you’re all too aware about him very purposefully keeping you at arm’s length. 

“Well, you have plenty of time to find out,” you quickly continue, pretending not to notice. “Actually, I’m going to a blueberry farm tomorrow because I’m thinking about adding blueberry pie to the menu. When I get back, I’ll bake one for you, and you can be the first to taste test it!” 

“You’re going by yourself?” Donghyuck raises an eyebrow. 

“Of course. Who else would I go with?” 

“Me. I’ll go with you,” he replies immediately. 

“But it’s, like, a forty-five-minute bus ride to the farm. Plus, coming with me to get ingredients isn’t part of your job description anyway,” you explain. 

“I can’t come with you on my own free time?” he asks, tilting his head. “Besides, I’m worried about you overexerting yourself with that back injury. A bumpy bus ride definitely isn’t going to help, so I’ll drive us there.” 

“You’re going to drive that fancy ass car to a farm? You do realize it’s going to be dirt roads, right?” You cross your arms. 

“I think I’ll live. Besides, what makes you think this is the only fancy ass car I own?” He gives you an amused smile. 

“You’re joking, right?” You stare at him. 

He hesitates for a moment. “Yes.” 

“That doesn’t sound―”

“What time are we leaving tomorrow morning?” 

“...Seven.”

.

.

.

Unsurprisingly, Donghyuck picks you up right on time, not a minute too early or late. As the universe would have it, it rained the night prior―meaning all the dirt roads are now rivers of mud. You wince every time you heard a splat of mud hit Donghyuck’s pristine white car, but he seems to pay no mind to it. The two of you arrive at the farm within twenty minutes (he found a shortcut), and because you came so early, you get the entire farm to yourselves. The staff arms both of you with a large wicker basket each before setting you loose onto the massive property. 

“Okay, make sure to pick the fat ones. The small ones are super tart, so avoid those,” you instruct Donghyuck. “We’re going to fill these baskets to the brim and get our money’s worth.” 

“You got it, Captain.” He salutes. 

You give him a determined nod and a thumbs up before turning to your respective side and beginning to pick the blueberries. The two of you work without much fanfare or conversation, and it’s a silence that lingers between you comfortably. It reassures you to hear the sound of the bushes rustling from Donghyuck working; his companionship alone relaxes you. 

Eventually, when the sun starts peeking through and the weather grows warmer, both of you decide to take a break. You find a spot in the shade before sitting down, pulling out snacks and bottles of water from a backpack Donghyuck brought along. 

“I have a surprise for you,” you tell him, trying to hide a smile. “Close your eyes.” 

He eyes you suspiciously but does so anyway. You fish out a handful of unripe blueberries wrapped in a handkerchief from your pocket and feed some to him. His reaction is nearly instant the moment he starts chewing them; you watch as his face puckers up from how sour they are and his entire body shrivels into itself, a shudder running through him. He’s polite enough to not spit them out, but you’re not polite enough to resist pointing and laughing at him. Throwing your head back, you laugh so hard that your stomach starts to hurt. 

“Oh my God, your face!” 

“Ugh,” Donghyuck groans, taking a big gulp of his water. “I should’ve known you had sinister intentions from the start.” 

“I didn’t think you’d react like that,” you finally manage to say after catching your breath. “You really can’t handle anything except for sweet stuff.” 

“Are you having fun bullying me?” He rolls his eyes. 

“So much fun,” you say in a sing-song voice. 

Donghyuck tries to continue feigning annoyance, but he can’t help the low chuckle that rumbles in his chest. His eyes always soften when he looks at you, and his gaze is intimate like a lover’s―gentle, tender, unwavering, and vulnerable. But his warmth is always fleeting, and he only allows you glimpses of it through the unmoving walls that he’s erected around himself. 

You wish he wouldn’t indulge you so, terrified you’ll try to cross the line he’s drawn between the two of you. 

“What are you thinking about?” Donghyuck asks, trying to read your expression

“About the delicious pie I’m about to make when we get back,” you smile. 

“I see,” he responds, though it’s clear he isn’t convinced. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“You better be. This is how I’m paying you back for driving me here,” you nod. 

“Instead of that, pay me back by telling me what your favorite dessert is,” he suddenly says. “I do still want the pie, though.” 

“That was random,” you snort. “Why do you want to know my favorite dessert?”

“Because you asked me, but you never told me yours.” 

You suppose he has a point, but you find it ironic that he wants to know more about you when he refuses to offer you even a modicum of information about himself. Despite this, you tell him anyway because you are obviously the fool here. 

“If you must know, it’s red velvet cake,” you sigh. 

“Why?” 

You don’t answer at first, carefully thinking about if you’re ready to be vulnerable in front of him―still a virtual stranger. A virtual stranger who loves sweets. A virtual stranger who is a bit of a messy eater. A virtual stranger who knows Pompompurin. A virtual stranger who worries about you even when he’s not on the clock. A virtual stranger who gently tells you to be careful whenever you try to do something dangerous, whispering, “I’ll do it instead.” A virtual stranger who allows his luxury car to be caked in mud for you. 

“Because it’s the dessert that made me realize I want to do this for the rest of my life,” you finally say. “I baked it for my mom’s birthday, and I think I ended up being more excited than her.” 

Donghyuck stays quiet, gauging your reaction. 

“I was in college, studying to be a doctor like everyone else in my family. So, like a dumb young person who thought that dreams were more important than money, I dropped out of college and went to culinary school. My parents told me I was ruining mine and their lives, disowned me, yada-yada―a bunch of depressing stuff, you know. Eventually, I graduated, took out a huge loan, and opened up my own bakery. Worked a bunch of part-time jobs until my business could stand on its own. Now here I am. Still in debt, though,” you laugh awkwardly. “But I’m not doing too shabby. I was able to hire you, so at least I have a little cash to spare.” 

He still doesn’t say anything, so you find yourself starting to ramble. You’re really not sure what possessed you to trauma dump on him like that. 

“You know, a lot of people talk shit about red velvet cake because they say the only thing that makes it special is the red food coloring,” you hurriedly explain, “but that’s not true. The cream cheese frosting is super important too. Also, I always say love is the most important ingredient of all. As a baker, you’re kind of baring your heart to the customer, and isn’t it kind of cute that red velvet cake is red like a heart? Okay, please say something now or else I think I’m going to projectile vomit.” 

Donghyuck reaches over and brushes a sweaty lock of hair out of your face. His fingers brush over your temple, which makes you sharply suck in a breath. You almost lean into his touch, but you catch yourself. His hand slightly lingers on the side of your neck, like he wants to bring your face closer, but he eventually pulls away. 

He searches your face, and you’re not sure what he’s looking for―if anything. Rather, perhaps he’s not searching. Perhaps he’s committing your features to his memory, as if the way you look right now is something he wants to remember forever. 

“You’ve worked hard, Y/N,” he says softly, voice slightly hoarse. “This is long overdue, but congratulations. You achieved your dream, and don’t let anyone ever discount that. Not even yourself.” 

You wonder how long you’ve waited to hear that. You’re not even sure you knew you needed to hear that. But when Donghyuck says it, it hits you just how long and hard you’ve worked all on your own without a single break. Throughout the years, you’ve really only ever heard, “I’m sorry that happened.” When was the last time someone congratulated you? When was the last time you congratulated yourself? 

You surge forward, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and burying your face in his shoulder. Donghyuck cradles you against him, one hand wound tightly around your waist while the other is tangled in your hair. You can feel his chest rise up and down as he holds you. He smells like lavender soap and a bit earthy from being outside, and the warmth of his skin against your cheek makes you want to close your eyes and fall asleep in his arms. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. 

“No, thank you,” he murmurs into your hair. 

You’re not sure why he’s thanking you instead, but what you are sure of is that you’re crossing the line, taking a step towards him and wondering if he’ll meet you halfway. 

.

.

.

“Tada!” you announce cheerfully, setting down the freshly baked blueberry pie onto the table. 

Donghyuck claps excitedly. “Holy shit, it looks amazing.” 

“I’m still trying to figure out the right portions for the filling, so let me know if you think there’s too much or little,” you tell him as you hand him a slice. 

Without even answering you, he stabs his fork into the pie and almost eats the entire slice in one bite, seemingly unbothered by the steam still rising from it. 

“Be careful. You’re going to burn your tastebuds off. I’m not letting you eat it for shits and giggles, you know. This is for research purposes.” You cross your arms. 

“It’s perfect, Y/N. I’m serious,” Donghyuck says after swallowing. “The filling isn’t too sweet, and the crust is airy and light.” 

“Well, alright, Gordon Ramsay. I think we’re going to be adding a new menu item then,” you smile. “Think you can get Mrs. Kim to buy a dozen of these?”

“I don’t think she’ll need much convincing with how good these taste.” 

“You’re so easy,” you tease. “All I need to do is feed you. Anyways, I’m going to clean up here, but you should head home. It’s getting late, and you wake up way earlier than me.” 

“I’ll help,” he insists. 

“Go,” you order, pointing at the door. “I can handle it.” 

He looks conflicted but eventually relents when you threaten to physically kick him out. Before he leaves, he turns back to you and says, “Thank you, Y/N.”

“Why do you keep thanking me?” you laugh. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had this.”

“What? A blueberry pie?”

Donghyuck pauses, a slight wonder in his expression, as if he’s realizing his answer for the first time as well.

“Peace.” 

And you think maybe this is a step forward for him too. 

RECIPE 3. CREAM PUFF

It’s quite surreal how easily and naturally you and Donghyuck fall into a routine together. Somehow, in the blink of an eye, two weeks becomes two months. You’ve learned the little things about him, like how he always swipes some icing before you can fill up the piping bag or that he’s not a coffee drinker at all (more of a hot cocoa person) or that he purses his lips when a dessert he’s testing tastes off (no matter how hard he tries to hide it) or that he involuntarily sticks his arm out in front of you when he wants to stop you from doing something you shouldn’t. 

You also notice that he sometimes comes into work with injuries. They’re not nearly as bad as the first time you met him, but it’s hard to ignore a bruised cheek or bloodied knuckles. He always has a reason for them, whether it’s tripping down the stairs or accidentally falling down and scraping his hands on the concrete. You can tell by the way he laughs it off that he doesn’t plan on telling you the truth, so you laugh with him. The two of you, having taken only a step towards one another, find yourselves completely immobile now. 

He always does this: envelops you like a cloud but disappears the moment you reach out for him. 

You’re honestly not sure why he’s still here. Your injury has long healed, and he clearly doesn’t need the abysmal pay you’re giving him. He feels like he’ll slip away at any moment, fleeting like a warm spring breeze, and you suppose time flies by when you know it’s limited. Despite knowing that, you can’t help but desperately want him to stay. 

“I think it’s cute how hard he’s working,” Yeri randomly says one day as she eyes Donghyuck prepare orders in the front. He’s in the middle of a lunchtime rush, so he doesn’t even notice the two of you watching him like weirdos.

“Well, that’s what I’m paying him to do,” you reply, rolling his eyes. 

“Oh, I think the money is the least of his worries here,” she hums, taking a sip of her coffee. 

She has a point, but you’re pretty sure she’s implying something else as well. Just as you go to ask her what exactly she means, you hear a loud clatter. Flinching, you turn your attention back to Donghyuck and realize that he’s dropped a tray on the floor. However, the tray is the last thing on your mind when you see the expression on his face. It’s a mixture of horror, anger, and almost sadness―like he’s finally come face-to-face with whatever he’s been running from. It makes your blood run cold. 

Donghyuck is looking at a boy around his age; the boy has dark hair, a mole under his eye, and a grim expression. More importantly, he’s covered in injuries too. 

“Who is that?” Yeri whispers. “Why does Donghyuck look like he’s seen a ghost?” 

Maybe because he has, you want to tell her. 

Donghyuck grabs the boy's arm, squeezing so tightly that his knuckles turn white, and mumbles something to him. When he turns around and meets your eyes, he looks pained and fearful as if you witnessed something you shouldn’t have.

“Is it okay if I take my break early today?” he asks calmly, though the tremor in his voice gives him away. 

You nod hesitantly, unable to force yourself to speak. You watch him as he drags the boy out; when he passes you, you can tell how tightly his body is wound right now. His jaw is clenched, a muscle spasming as he tries to control himself, and every step he takes seems labored. He’s running on pure adrenaline right now, like he’s physically steeling himself. 

However, you don’t think he’s ever appeared so incredibly alone before. As you watch his back disappear further and further from your view, you’re unsure if he’ll ever return, and you never imagined how terrifying that would be. 

.

.

.

The cream puffs aren’t rising.

You’re crouched in front of the oven, watching the dough remain flat and lifeless. You should’ve known better than to attempt to make cream puffs on such a shitty day, especially when pastries like these are so sensitive to the environment and atmosphere. Even though you know you should probably just scrap them and try again, you wait for just a little longer, hoping that maybe if you wish hard enough that they’ll magically start to rise. 

But then again you suppose that no matter how hard you try, no matter how careful you are, no matter how perfect the batter is, no matter how much time you spend time piping them, no matter how much you want them to rise, they won’t. 

You decide that Donghyuck isn’t like a tiramisu at all; he’s sensitive and delicate and elusive and frustrating like a cream puff. 

“Y/N, they’re burning.” 

Losing your balance and nearly falling over, you gasp loudly. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t even hear Donghyuck walk into the kitchen, nor did you smell the undeniable scent of something being burnt to a crisp. 

“Oh, fu―!” you curse, hurriedly opening the oven and casually suffocating both you and Donghyuck with a hot plume of air. Sputtering, you look around and grab a random rag from the sink before reaching for the cream puffs. 

“Wait, stop!” Donghyuck stops you with an outstretched arm, his hand pressed to your side. “Let me do it.” 

He gently takes the rag from your hand and removes the tray of charred cream puffs from the oven, dumping them into the trash before putting the tray in the sink and running some water on it―just how you like it. 

Letting out a relieved sigh, he turns back to you and asks, “Are you okay? It’s not like you to make a mistake like that. You didn’t get burned anywhere, did you?” 

When you don’t answer immediately, Donghyuck rushes forward and grabs your hands, carefully examining your fingers and arms. “Wait, are you hurt? Where? Tell me where you got burned. We have to cool it down with some lukewarm water. And don’t just say you’re fine. Burns are not a joke, Y/N―why are you looking at me like that?” 

His hands are calloused and rough, and you can still see scabs from where he tore his knuckles, yet he touches you like you’re the delicate one. He’s covered in fresh and old wounds, yet he looks so panicked at the thought of you having a scratch. 

“Shut up,” you whisper furiously, ripping your hands away from him. “From now on, don’t ask me another question. It’s my turn to ask you questions.” 

He blinks, a bit stunned by your reaction, but it’s clear he knows what you’re about to say. He goes to reach for you again but decides against it. “Okay.” 

“Who was that guy?” you demand. “Why are you always covered in injuries? Why did you lie to me? Who are you?” 

“He’s an old friend,” Donghyuck starts quietly. 

“Do you treat all your friends like that?” 

“When I don’t want to see them.” 

You wait for him to continue.

“Before I met you, he and I and a few of our other friends worked…odd jobs for cash,” he explains, and he looks like he’s choking on every word. “The jobs usually entailed us hurting people and also getting hurt. I did a lot of shit I wasn’t proud of. At the time, I didn’t really care. It was just nice to feel something, whether it was the adrenaline rush from doing the punching or the pain from being punched. I got a bunch of money, bought a bunch of expensive stuff, but none of it mattered. Eventually, I just felt nothing again. I didn’t even have the energy to loathe myself anymore. So, I took one last job, got the shit kicked out of me, and then I left. That’s when you found me―”

He inhales, and his eyes flicker towards you. He gazes at you so longingly, as if you were impossibly out of his reach, that you can’t help but involuntarily take a step towards him. 

But he steps back. 

“I thought that working here would make me feel like a human being again, but I didn’t realize how much I would―” He pauses again. “I thought working here would be a nice reset for me, but I naively thought that I could completely leave my past behind. My friends eventually found me, and I guess I care about those reckless assholes more than I thought because they managed to convince me to take on a few more jobs with them. That’s why I’ve been coming to work with injuries. But I’m done. I cut them off for good when they walked into this bakery. I don’t want…I don’t want our past to tarnish this place. I want to keep this place a beautiful, warm, and pure safe haven that you worked so hard for it to be. That’s why I lied to you, Y/N. I’m a coward to the bone, and I was envious of you. I was ashamed to admit it to you. You, who had the courage to chase after your dream. You, who had the kindness to help a good-for-nothing asshole like me. I only want you to have happy memories from now on, and I am not one of them.” 

“Are you going to leave?” you ask softly. 

“I probably should,” he answers shakily. 

“What’s stopping you?” 

“Just…one reason.” 

“When you say it like that, it makes it sound like the reason is me.” 

Donghyuck laughs bitterly, and his eyes drag across your face like every movement hurts him.

“You know it’s you. It’s always been you.” 

When you reach for his hand, he turns away like just the warmth from your body heat burns him. So instead, you take a step back. 

“I won’t ask you to stay, Donghyuck, I won’t chase you. I’m going to wait right here, and it’s up to you if you're going to meet me halfway.” 

RECIPE 4. RED VELVET CAKE

When your alarm clock goes off the next morning, you seriously consider just not showing up to work. It’s not like you can be fired for being a no-show when you’re your own boss, after all. 

And it’s not like you have any employees who will be expecting you. 

You’ll just apologize to Mrs. Kim and your other regulars later. You’re allowed to have a day where you just rot in bed and feel sorry for yourself. 

However, no matter how much you tell yourself that, you find yourself crawling out of bed and getting ready anyway. You can’t seem to brutally crush that small glimmer of hope that Donghyuck might still be there, no matter how hard you try. When you see yourself in the mirror, you recoil in horror. Your eyes are almost swollen shut from the amount of crying you did last night, and your face is sallow and lifeless. 

So much for putting on a brave face, you think wryly to yourself. You tried so hard to look tough, when in reality, you bawled your eyes out and even considered praying to God for Donghyuck to stay. It’s a humiliating and humbling reality check. 

“Stand up right now,” you sharply tell yourself in the mirror. “He’s just some guy. Get it together.” 

You do your best to clean up your appearance and make the trek over to the bakery. It takes another internal pep talk before you can make your way to the door. After you finally walk up, you see that the lights inside are off. Your stomach sinks, and your eyes start to burn. Even though you’re holding the handle, you can’t bring yourself to open the door. It’s an outcome that you expected, yet you wonder why it hurts so badly. 

“You liar,” you mumble to yourself, “You said you only wanted me to have happy memories.” 

Once you make your way inside, you numbly head towards the kitchen, trying to remember what exactly you have to do today. Oh right, now that he’s not here, you also have to make sure all the ingredients are prepped first. 

When you walk into the kitchen, you do a double-take. 

The whole place looks like it’s been completely ransacked: used pans and utensils piled up in the sink, two opened boxes of cake mix, containers of ingredients without lids on on the tables, random lumps of flour and egg shells strewn about― 

And right in front of the oven is Donghyuck, flour in his hair and frosting on his nose. He’s holding a cake stand with…you think it’s supposed to be a cake on it? The shape is mangled and haphazardly cut, but it has echoes of a heart. The frosting is a hot mess, as if a bird with diarrhea shat all over the cake. The batter is clearly underbaked and makes the cake look gooey in a bad way. 

“Um, I promise I’ll clean all of this up in a second, but I wanted to surprise you,” Donghyuck starts awkwardly. “It’s not perfect, but I tried making a red velvet cake for you.” 

You stare at him, still not sure how to react. 

“You once said that baking is like baring your heart to the customer and that love is the most important ingredient of all,” he laughs softly to himself. “I think love is the only ingredient I managed to get right, but I’m baring my heart to you now, Y/N. I’m sorry I hid everything and lied to you, but I’m in love with you. Hopelessly so. All my life, I’ve chased a feeling, not knowing what it was. But now I do. I don’t think I knew how to feel until I met you. I never once thought I would ever have a purpose in my life, but you make me want to be a normal, proper member of society. Your dream is my dream. I want to wake up at 5AM and sell egg tarts with you for the rest of my life, if you’ll have me.” 

Donghyuck sets the cake down on a table in front of you, and you notice that his fingers are dyed red from the food coloring. It almost reminds you of when you first met him, except his injuries have been replaced with red food coloring, flour, and cream cheese frosting. 

“This cake is terrible,” you smile, “how did you butcher it that badly when you used cake mix?” 

You watch him blush all the way down to his neck, as he sheepishly looks away. “Don’t make fun of me. I really tried my best. I stayed up watching tutorials―” 

Leaning across the table, you cup his face with both hands and kiss him, brushing your thumbs across his cheekbones. He tastes like frosting, hot cocoa, and your prayers being answered. The way he kisses you back is bruising, dizzying and knocking any coherent thought out of your head, his hands finding your hips and anchoring you to him. He kisses you like you’re the sweetest and most wonderful thing he’s ever tasted.

When you finally pull away, it takes you a moment to regain feeling in your legs. Donghyuck presses his forehead against yours, lips brushing against yours once again as the two of you try to catch your breath. 

“I think I’m going to have to fire you, though,” you whisper. “You know, with me being your boss and all. The power dynamic is too weird.” 

He hums, pausing for thought. “Then how about I become your business partner?” 

“What?”

Donghyuck reaches into his pocket and fishes out his wallet, pulling out a shiny and fancy-looking credit card. He hands it to you without much fanfare. 

“I have a lot of money, you know. So I’m going to invest in your business. Use it as you’d like,” he casually announces.

You stare at him, your jaw hanging wide open. He never tried to hide from you that he was rich, but he never told you that he was rich rich. 

“Well, damn! Why didn’t you show me this earlier? I would have forgiven you a lot sooner,” you tease, slapping him on the arm. “Are you sure you want to give this to me? I’m quite the gold-digger, you know.”

“When I told you to use it as you’d like, I meant me as well,” Donghyuck replies, shrugging.

“You’re insane.” You hope he can’t tell how much your face is burning up. 

“I guess I am,” he laughs, and you don’t think he’s ever looked so free. You want to tell him that you hope he only has happy memories from now on too. You want to tell him that you’ll rewrite all of his scars with sugary and fluffy desserts so that they won’t ever hurt again. 

And for the first time in your life, you feel it too.

Peace. 

EXTRA

“So, have you figured out what your favorite dessert is?” 

Donghyuck stirs slightly, groaning, as he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer. He slips his hand under your shirt (well, technically it’s his shirt) and rests it on your bare hip bone. 

“Why aren’t you asleep?” 

“Because I’m curious.” 

“If I answer, will you let me rest?”

“Depends on how good your answer is.” 

“Blueberry pie. That’s my answer.” 

You smile against the crook of his neck. 

“Why?” 

“Because it’s the dessert that made me realize I want to do this for the rest of my life.”