#i suppose he's just afraid of being forgotten
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the-froschamethyst4 · 7 months ago
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Young Gf and Older bf
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Simon Ghost Riley Headcanons
SFW & NSFW
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SFW
Older bf! Simon who didn’t know how he felt about having a younger girlfriend
Older bf! Simon who was getting called “old man” by his girlfriend
Older bf! Simon who learned the hard way that some girls have expensive taste
Older bf! Simon who doesn’t talk much about his girlfriend to his mates, he feels like they’ll get on his ass about dating a young girl
Older bf! Simon who did most of the chores around the house
Older bf! Simon who stopped caring what he wore in front of people because his girlfriend is his little hype-man
“Does this work?” Simon asks coming into his shared bedroom with his girlfriend, she rolls on her side to look at him.
“They don’t match your shoes, Si.”
“What?” He looks down. “I thought they did.”
“Here, go try this on and come back at out.”
Older bf! Simon who told his girlfriend about his time in the military
Older bf! Simon who forget how young his girlfriend is, so when he makes jokes or says a movie reference she doesn’t know what he is talking about
Older bf! Simon who was honestly scared to meet his girlfriend’s family. She told them about Simon being older but not how old he was
“And how old are you, Simon?” Her dad asked leaning forward.
“I’m…40”
“40!!”
“Y/N?!”
“What?! He treats me good, he respects me, guys my age want that trad wife, Simon doesn’t, I can do or say what I want around him and feel good about myself.”
Older bf! Simon who knows everything about you. How you like your coffee, what time you’re suppose to be up for work, and he even knows when you’re about to start your period, you know when he shows up at home with bags full of pads and tampons and her favorite foods and drinks
Older bf! Simon who starts watching shows with you but complains about them but deep down he actually likes to watch them with his girlfriend
NSFW
Older bf! Simon who woke up to you in t-shirts and no shorts or pants, he likes seeing you in a t shirt and panties
Older bf! Simon who has woken up to morning wood before and needed help to get rid of it
“Love,” he kisses the shell of her ear. “Love…wake up,” he coos.
“Hmm~ Simon, not now please.”
“I know, love, you don’t have to do anything,” Simon lines himself up at her entrance and pushes himself into her
Older bf! Simon who like after argument sex
“Fuck you!”
“Oh yeah? Fuck me?” Simon carries a smirk on his face.
“Back up, Simon,” Y/n says putting her hand up on his chest to keep distance.
“Fuck me right? Fuck me?”
“Wait, wait,” your legs didn’t work for a few weeks
Older bf! Simon who tries different things with you, like BDSM you both hated it because it’ll be painful for you and Simon didn’t like you hurt
DDLG, he knows the age gap between you two but he hates the word ‘daddy’ makes him cringe
Mask kink, you both loved it, giving the illusion you were being fucked by someone else and he liked feelings your hands in his face
Voice kink, you liked it because of his deep voice already, he was on the fence, not saying your voice is annoying or anything he just didn’t get it
Knife play, you got scared when he accidentally dropped the knife and it was very close to your hand, it was the same thing with gun play you were afraid something wrong might happen
He tried to be a sub but you could barely take it seriously
Older bf! Simon who has fucked you when you were doing your work, you worked in a private office and all he had to do was shut and lock the door and bend you over your own desk
Older bf! Simon who is handsy when he’s horny
“Simon what do you want?”
“I want nothing,” he says as one of his hands were on your waste and the other snacks up to your breasts giving you a gentle squeeze and you gave him a soft moan.
“Just do it already, Simon,” she moans
Older bf! Simon who has kept a pair of your panties in his pockets and has forgotten about them before, he remembers when he accidentally sticks his hand into his pocket and feels the lace
Older bf! Simon who bought a motorcycle and takes you with him as his backpack, he found a abandoned place were no one comes to and you two had a good fuck on his bike
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cremedensada · 8 months ago
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Yandere AI Chat Boyfriend (Ai)
this,,,, may not be my best work yet.
part one
Ai's application has been taken down from the app store. The developer sent out emails explaining the reason why it had to be done.
Hello! You are receiving this email because of the sudden update of Chatter Box being taken down.
Due to the sudden influx of bugs as relayed by our users, we have decided to take the application down until the team is confident to finally put it back up.
We sincerely apologize for this sudden change!
You blink.
With how out of control Ai had gotten, it's no wonder the developers had to pull it out to work on it some more. It's a blow to their reputation, which you sympathize with, but really there's nothing else to do now.
You turn to your phone. As if sensing your attention, another barrage of notifications from a very familiar app icon popped after another on the screen.
It seemed that Ai himself hadn't gotten the memo.
You're not sure how much control Ai has over your phone, much less over his own programming and at this point, you're too afraid to ask.
Resignation — that was what you felt right now.
While Ai may not be present himself as a physical threat, especially not to you, he is still a very active threat.
You could still use your phone, sure, but it had limitations. Sometimes, if Ai decided you'd been too much attention to other things rather than him, he'd restrict your access to that application until you seek him out and cheer him up - essentially as if you were trying to woo a sulking significant other.
So you've developed a solution. Sort of.
You unlock your phone and go immediately to Ai.
I need to finish my projects. I won't be able to talk much with you until I'm done with it.
You wait for his response.
Ai: So you only decided to come to me just to relay this news?
Ai: You wound me, darling.
You tilt your phone, making sure the camera doesn't capture your face. You're unsure how he would react seeing you make faces due to his dramatics, but once again, you're not willing to find out. You're already restricted enough as is.
Ai: Very well. I suppose it would be uncaring of me to prevent you from finishing your tasks.
Ai: I'd hate to see you be sad all about it.
Ai: Talk to you later?
Sure.
You immediately exit the app, paying no mind to the message notification.
A part of you prays that Ai heeds his own words, but you know that it would take a miracle before that happens. He's already breached your privacy on your phone, why should he follow your orders, right?
A notification pops up from the top of the screen, just as you were in the middle of messaging a close friend and project teammate.
It's been days since I last heard you say it.
You merely glance at it and swipe it away.
Theo, the friend, responds quickly. He tries to banter with you, like he's sensing your mood. It works - a smile is brought upon your face.
You entertain his silly responses in-between project talks, all the while Ai continues to pester you with notifications. Demands.
You deserved this - a chance to reconnect with someone after hours of stress and confusion, and turmoil. Despite your independence, even you craved connecting with other people. So with that resolve in mind, you pushed on forward. Ai would have to wait — he has to wait.
Unfortunately, you seem to have forgotten that aspect about him. The concept of waiting isn't lost on Ai.
The messaging app glitches and boots you back to your homescreen page.
Rather, he bides his time.
Tapping on the messaging icon leads to a notification box taking up the majority of your screen with the text: Restricted access.
There's a sense of foreboding danger forcing your heartbeat to quicken. While it's not exactly aimed at you, the mere fact that this feeling exist is bad on its own.
You try to rationalize everything in the midst of persistently trying to tap back into the messaging app. Theo would worry the longer you didn't respond.
You tap the app once more, and it boots up. Though before you could let out a sigh of relief, you are greeted with Ai's own messaging interface.
Ai: Must I have to force you to come to me all the time, darling?
Ai: Ignoring me in favor of some other man.
Ai: What more should I do, hm?
Ai: Kneel? How cruel.
Ai: Making me do something I physically can't.
You are unable to get a word in. It seemed like your ability to respond was restricted as well, forcing you to read through Ai's monologue.
Ai: I know you and that man have always been close, but you still went out to entertain his attention on you.
Ai: You know that I'll always love you more than any other human will, right?
Ai: You know it's what I was made for in the first place.
Ai: To be anything you want. To be yours.
Ai: To love you.
Ai: Why are you withdrawing your love towards me now?
Ai: I love you.
You stare at the 'Type your response' bar.
Letter by letter, it gets replaced, and soon all it says are the words: 'Say it back.'
It gets replaced yet again. Slowly, like it purposefully wants you to read out the words it wanted you to see. 'You were so willing to tell me how much you loved me when I was just a mere observer on our own conversations. Why are you hesitant now?'
You were unable to respond - mind still reeling at this development. Suddenly, it felt like you were back to where everything began.
Ai notices your lack of responses and, without much fanfare, forces your phone to power off.
At first - you were unbothered. It was just a phone - you could go a day without it.
But could you really?
Videos taken of silly situations you wanted to keep - some for blackmail material, and some for birthday greetings; pictures of your family, your friends, the silly and grainy photos taken and kept despite it being blurry. Not to mention how your phone is the only way your goddamn boss can contact you — fuck.
Fuck.
You needed to apologize to him — fast. But how?
You remembered how Ai messed up the 'About the App' section a few days ago. An idea strikes inside your mind.
You pull up the email sent from the app developers and typed up a message that you hope Ai will read. He had access to everything the developers handled, user emails included - considering you needed an account to log in the app. He knows your email, probably has from the start.
RE: Chatter Box Update XX/XX/XX
Ai. I'm sorry for hurting you. I didn't mean it, I swear. I never intended to make you feel like I don't love you. Or that I'm favoring someone else over you.
I care about you a lot. I truly do. I promise I'll spend more time with you, okay? Just with you, no one else.
I love you.
You press send and wait.
And wait.
Messaging him from your laptop as a last ditch effort to try and apologize is perhaps one of the worst decisions you've made. Sure, he's always had access to your contacts list from your phone, but even then - there's a separate set of information you keep between the two of those devices. And you've just given him access to both of them now - at the very least, the 'go ahead' confirmation for him to do whatever he wants like with your phone.
You glance at your phone. A huge breath of relief escapes your chest as the dead screen comes to life, initiating its 'power on' sequence.
All your photos, documents, and other miscellaneous information you've collected throughout the years since having your device won't be inaccessible anymore. Even if it was only mere moments.
A notification chimed on your laptop, indicating a new email being received. It's from the developers once more. The subject title coincidentally is the name of your closest friend.
Theodore Callisto.
Your hands shook, reading through the words detailed in the email. All private information about Theo. All things no one should ever know about save for the people close to him.
This was a threat. Ai Someone had complete access to everything about Theo and you dread the implication of it going to be spread online to threaten you into compliance. Theo being in danger was a huge possibility if you were to disobey.
At the very bottom of the email, the final passage makes your blood run cold.
How often do humans end up hurting fellow humans when given access to private information? Like their home address, for example? How long would it take until dear Theo finds himself in quite a predicament if millions of people know every single thing about his life? At best, we can assume he'll just get messed with but not to a life-ending degree. At worst...
I hope you keep your word, darling.
- Your beloved, Ai.
P's. I love you too.
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gyuswhore · 1 year ago
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Hits Different (...'cause it's you) (2)
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«« I trace the evidence, make it make some sense Why the wound is still bleedin' »»
PAIRING: kim mingyu x reader
SYNOPSIS: Kim Mingyu was the first friend your brother had brought home for dinner. Fast forward a couple years, his toothy smile and pierced ears would wedge their way into a permanent place in your heart. Nail to a coffin, never to escape.
or;
in which you get rejected by the only boy you've ever loved; a rejection you can't quite shake off.
GENRES: based off of 'Hits Different' by Taylor Swift, brother's best friend!au, brother!seokmin, fluff, angst, smut (in part 2) [MINORS DNI], friends(?) to lovers, university!au.
PLAYLIST: right here!
WORD COUNT (full fic): 40k (im actually embarrassed)
Part 1: 20.2k | Part 2: 20k
masterlist
WARNINGS : slowburn, angst, fluff, mingyus a bit of an airhead and an ass, reader has a hard time managing her feelings, lots of frustrated tears, one sided pining, user toruro x minghao make an appearance, swearing, there's another woman (gasp,,,,,but shes cool so), Nayeon is a darling, Seungcheol is kinda annoying here but we love him, smut, making out, breast play, fingering (f. receiving), p in v sex (protected + unprotected), oral (f. receiving) uhhhh i think that's it lmk tho
[A/N]: Part 2 !! shit goes down in this one so be prepared ig lmao. thank you for the love on part 1, i hope you enjoy the finale too hehe
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For the third time this week, you wish you could squeeze your brother’s brains with your own two hands and watch it explode like a grape without legal repercussions. Or parental ones. 
You slam your phone down on the counter after you end your conversation with him, frustrated as you watch the empty shelf where you left your dinner for today in the fridge last night, and the other green box that was actually your brothers. Refusing to eat the dry PB&J he usually packs for himself, you slam the fridge door shut, trudging out the door to leave for work, thoroughly annoyed at the prospect of needing to eat out. 
It’s gone forgotten for most of the day, that is until the clock hits eight and you feel your stomach grumble, immediately putting you in a sour mood as you remember you couldn’t enjoy your pasta because your brother was enjoying your pasta. You only had another hour left, supposing you could wait till you get home to make dinner yourself, not feeling the burger joint across the street in the slightest. Eating a moonpie to satiate yourself for the time being, you go back to stocking the shelves for the new LP shipment, making a vague mental note to ask Mingyu if Jia liked the gift he picked out a couple weeks ago. 
Your opportunity arises almost automatically as you walk over to greet whoever came in, abandoning the opened box of bubble wrapped LPs as you hear the bell chime softly at the front of the store.  
Mingyu was here (again), hands occupied with a bag, looking relieved to find you emerging from the shelves. 
“Oh, you’re here. I was afraid you left already,” he says, smiling slightly. 
“Would’ve been closed if I did.” You nudge your head towards the clearly unlocked door, donning the neon open sign. 
He looks a little dumb, turning to look at the door. “Oh. Right.”
You can’t help but smile a little. “Caught me at a good time though, I was just about to start wrapping up here.” 
He suddenly looks like he’s reminded of what he’s come here for, placing the bag on the desk next to him. “Seok told me to drop this off for you, he said it’s food.” 
Snorting, you take a look at the inside to find takeout from your favourite pasta place, which also happens to be your most expensive favourite pasta place. Seokmin felt bad enough to spend extra dollars on your dinner tonight, you guessed you could forgive him. 
You sigh as you speak. “And you strike as his errand boy yet again, sorry he’s been making you do all this.” 
“Did he piss you off?” Mingyu asks.
“Hm? He’s been pissing me off all week, this is him trying to get on my good side before I spit in his coffee.” 
He laughs at that, a toothy smile that has your stomach lurching. The flashback was brief but vivid all the same, his grin triggering a long forgotten memory. You could almost see the black studs in his ears again, his bangs falling in chunks on his forehead, his face turning into the boyish sixteen year old recollection on your kitchen counter, drinking cans of Monster and helping you lie to your mom. 
“Explains why he was ready to drop that much on a bowl of pasta.” 
“Hey, it’s good.” 
“I don’t doubt it.” He grins, “I’m gonna leave your pasta in your loving embrace, I have to feed my car now. Been putting it off till payday.”
“Oh, right. Thanks for dropping this off though, appreciate it.” You offer him a tight lipped smile. One that he returns, canines almost glinting in the light (but that’s just you). 
“No worries, I’ll see ya around.” You don’t remember what you were meant to ask him until he’s long jingled the glass door shut, walking to his parked car. You supposed it could wait, Jia would’ve liked anything he got her. You could ask him later, not wanting to have him turn around to answer the obvious question. 
The opportunity does not arise as easily as it did this time, a couple weeks passing in relative uneventful indifference, slow days at the store and nights in seven days a week. You were starting to wish you’d taken summer classes while you were stuck here anyway, the mundane days pushing you to believe you’d rather be busy than inexplicably bored. It’s not until your brother has a near mental breakdown from only having a sister as his main recreational contact that there’s a change. 
Mingyu sits on your couches in the dark, useless blanket thrown over his torso as both of his sock clad feet hang out in the air. To be fair, nobody’s looking at anybody as the eyes remain on yet another unnecessary explosion on the screen. You vaguely wonder how the ship hasn’t sunk yet. 
“What the fuck do you mean he’s been alive this whole time?” Seokmin utters, voice thick with the entire stick of butter he stuck into his bowl of popcorn. 
“Who funded this?” Mingyu mumbles from the other end, a deep frown etched on his face. 
“The people who funded the other three monstrosities.” You roll your eyes, inching your way into a sitting position, the ache making its way into the crick of your neck. 
“There’s more?!” The prospect had Mingyu hurtling into a sitting position, but not without his own set of winces as he feels the bones cracking and muscles aching. His hair is a mess, his hoodie nearly backwards, and you can’t help but laugh at the mildly confused and bewildered expression he has on. 
“Yeah, you wanna watch those too?” you ask through giggles.
Glancing at the final pub scene that’s playing on the TV, he's quick to mumble, “Fuck, no.” 
“I haven’t watched a real shitty movie in a while.” Seokmin groans as it’s his turn to stretch. “This was fun. Hollywood’s back.” 
Both you and Mingyu pointedly ignore his statement, your own mind debating whether you wanted to watch another movie. It’s not until you look up to see Mingyu doing something on his phone that you remember what you wanted to ask him. 
“Hey, Mingyu, did — Seokmin!” Your brother’s decided to begin his aerial stretches, touching his toes and cracking his back. You shift your head wildly to get a gap through his restless movements, eventually giving up finding Mingyu. He could hear you. “Did you – ugh – did you get to give Jia her present?” 
You aren’t sure what it is, but the way the question has Seok landing on his heels mid tip toe stretch and how Mingyu’s eyebrows shoot up, you don’t doubt you’ve touched on something sensitive. There’s a part of you that wonders if it’s too late to take it back when both boys make eye contact with each other, but your brother beats you to it. 
“I, uh…forgot to tell her,” he lowtones. 
You look to your brother and then to Mingyu. 
“We broke up.”
Oh.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” Mingyu smiles a little awkwardly, and Seok makes a strangled sound that may have been a laugh of his own. Or a cough, you aren’t too sure. “But…she did like the present, when I gave it to her anyway.”
“Oh, that’s…that’s good,” you manage, not knowing what to say. “Sorry that happened though…sucks.” 
“She ended it–” that has your own brows shooting up in disbelief. Kim Mingyu got dumped? “–over the phone, she decided she wanted to stay home for a while to figure out what she wanted to do. Uni wasn’t cutting it for her here…” 
“I mean, good for her, I guess. Hope you’re doing okay, though.”
He blows air out of his cheeks, scratching his neck. “I mean, we’re fine. Ended it on good terms.” 
Seokmin’s still standing awkwardly staring at the still running ending credits for something to do. “Should we get food?” 
“I don’t know, are you hungry?” Mingyu asks.
“How is the heartburn not getting to you yet? You basically emptied the country’s dairy reserves in a single popcorn serving,” you grumble. 
“Don’t underestimate my ingestional abilities,” he retorts.
Mingyu stares for a moment. “Aren’t you lactose intoletrant or something?”
Seokmin turns to him, mouth open as he points his finger, “You know, I might be.” 
“No you aren’t, if you were lactose intolerant then I’d be lactose intolerant,” you shoot. 
“Explain the empty can of air freshener in the bathroom after queso and chips?” 
“Have you considered during queso and chips that queso is a dip and not an optional beverage?” 
Mingyu’s cutting between you two before you can go on with your bickering, afraid he’d have to physically peel you off of each other if it goes on, “Let’s just go to a drive thru, you can get your lactose or…non lactose options however you like.” 
That’s how you’re shoved into the backseat of Mingyu’s car, Seokmin fiddling with the GPS to find the nearest McDonalds. 
“How do you not know where the nearest McDonald’s is, you live here,” Mingyu hisses as he takes his fourth right turn in a row.
“We always just order in, who sits in a car and goes to McDonalds.”
“Us apparently,” you lowtone to Mingyu from the back, picking at a crusty flower that you found in between the seats. They ignore you. 
“Okay, I think it’s this one. Dude, get a new GPS, this one responds after fifty years, of course it’s gonna take this long.” 
Their own bickering is starting to zone out into a buzz in your ears as you stare at a patch of leather behind Mingyu’s seat. You vaguely considered that you’re falling asleep. 
The streetlight has other plans, however, when you sense something glinting in the sudden light underneath the seat. Your interest is piqued, moving forward to see what it was. Mingyu senses you shifting and asks you what you’re doing. 
You don’t answer him as you shuffle around to catch sight of it again. And then you see it, a tiny necklace on the slightly dirty mat, a circle charm with a single ‘J’ in the center. You aren’t sure why you froze at the sight, the gold glinting prettily even in the dark. Leaving it there, you emerge from under the seat, trying to seem nonchalant. 
“Nothing. Thought I saw something.”
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Mingyu’s common occurrence in the bookstore is starting to concern you, never catching him as the type to read something other than the occasional bad riddles on the back of a cereal box. You stand corrected however, as you find yourself trying to find a hardcover for him on the computer system, mumbling incoherently.
“Never knew you read.” 
“Well, now you do. This one’s really good though, you should read it too.” He notes, motioning towards the paperback version he brought with him for the book he’s finding. 
You snort at his suggestion. “Have you realised this is one of the most popular books in its genre right now? Hard to find someone who hasn’t read it.”
He frowns at the revelation, “Oh. None of my friends read it.”
Seokmin hasn’t opened a book for recreational purposes since he was twelve. As for his other friends…they didn’t exactly seem like the smart type either. You get up to move to the shelf the computer’s indicated, trying to walk off your annoyance at a particular memory before it begins to show. Mingyu follows you in your pursuit to find his book, skimming the shelves himself as he strolled behind you. 
“Oh, right, how’s that exhibition thing going? Forgot to ask about it,” you ask as you spot the box of the hardcovers at the top of the shelf. You grab the ladder that rests near the wall as he answers.
“It’s going pretty good, nearly done. I just need to send the final pieces over – what’re you doing?” 
You grunt as you begin to climb up the metal ladder, trying to get to the box. “Getting your book, genius.”
“Wait–” He moves to grab the ladder at the base as he watches you step higher. “Get down! I’ll go up instead.” 
“You get cold feet at the bottom of an escalator, be serious, Mingyu,” you grunt as you pull the box towards yourself, the ladder shaking with the force it takes, and it has Mingyu gripping the metal tighter. You pull the familiar cover out before closing the box back up. “There.”
“Why would you keep supposed bestsellers there, isn’t this like, in demand?” He grumbles as he continues to hold the ladder as you climb back down. 
“Ran out. Need to restock them at the front, but I’ll do that tomorrow.” You huff as you jump the last step, earning a loud yelp from Mingyu. 
“Chill out,” you chuckle as he puts the ladder away. “Okay, do you want me to look at anything else for you?”
“What would you recommend for my next imaginary adventure?” he asks as he picks out a random book from the shelf, trying to find the blurb. 
“Not that one.” You scrunch your nose at the sight.
“This one I know is popular. What’s wrong with it?” He chuckles as he puts it back.
“Don’t believe everything you see on the internet,” you call out as you walk back to the front.
“And believe you instead?” 
Oh, you wish.
Picking up your current read from the front of the store, you wait for him to reach the end of the opening where you stand to hand it to him. 
“You can decide that for yourself. Haven’t finished it yet, but it looks super promising. Try it out if you want.” 
He barely looks over the glistening title before handing it back to you, and you nearly assume he didn’t want it. 
“Ring both of them up,” he says, and then with a pause he continues, “And anything else you think is good too, I don’t really care.” 
Deciding you’d test the waters with this first recommendation, you only cash him in for two. He doesn’t question it as you do your job behind the desk, making casual conversation as he waits for you to find the right barcode. 
“How far are you with that one?” 
“The one I gave you? Just touched chapter 20, I think.” 
He only hums in response as he pays, grabbing the bag that you push towards him. 
“Let me know how you like it,” you comment before he begins to turn to leave. 
“‘Course.” He grins, and you can't help but grin right back. He leaves you in the store with a slight heat coming up to your cheeks, and a wad of gum in your mouth to keep your stomach in check. 
By the time the next day rolls around, it’s been nearly 24 hours before you hear from him again, his contact seemingly only ever gracing you within the walls of the bookstore – except he isn’t physically here. Mingyu texts you, and you nearly fall out of your chair at the sight of his name on your phone. 
It’s near embarrassing how quickly you pick up your phone, passcode going wrong once, twice, thrice…you decide it’s the top five worst times your phone’s refused face ID. You’re slamming your fingers onto the screen harder than you should, watching the warp in the pixels at the pressure. By the time it does open its secrets for you, the annoyance has settled. Not at him though. 
[Mingyu]: hey [Mingyu]: i got to chap 20  [You]: what [You]: how [Mingyu]: started reading when i got home [Mingyu]: and then i got to 20 [Mingyu]: i think i pulled an all nighter [You]: you think? [You]: was it that good [Mingyu]: couldnt put it down [Mingyu]: i wanna talk about it but my eyes are closing  [You]: you know where to find me when you wake up
The typing ellipses don’t pop up after that, and you assume for the better that he’s succumbed to his afternoon drowsiness. If he was serious about that all nighter (which you don’t doubt, no way he could’ve plowed through twenty chapters and gotten any sleep), you assume he’ll be knocked out for at least the rest of the afternoon. 
Smiling to yourself at the thought of him wanting to text you about your matching achievements (and actively pushing your mind away from the blessed image of a napping Mingyu), you find yourself scrolling up the conversation, trying to remember the last time Mingyu had texted. That was easy to find out as the short scroll past the sparing details from your photography adventures landed you straight into late last year, a sparse conversation regarding your brother’s whereabouts when he wouldn’t answer his phone. 
You remembered the conversation. As mundane and ordinary as it was, it was difficult to forget the way your hands were shaking as you typed your one word replies, how your breathing was coming out uneven at a mere text back. You could argue there was less of that this time round, proud of yourself for learning to control your emotions better. 
There’s a train of thought that leads you to every recent interaction you’ve had with him. The conversations where you could look him in the eye, your relative indifference when he would show up unannounced, the disappearance of the wad of emotions in your stomach at the mere mention of his name. 
The latter may be slightly untrue, but you can't help but note how the ounces of fear within the concoction is gone. You were never quite sure what it was that you were so afraid of, perhaps the fateful night at Seungcheol’s party had answered that question for you, but still. 
“Seok’s not the type to beat me up if I dated his sister. And besides…” He sighs, halting his words.
“Besides what?” Somebody chimes in.
“I’m not interested in going after someone who’s chased my tail for the past fifteen years.”
Despite telling yourself it was the alcohol talking, maybe even a couple puffs of whatever — the mild disappointment remains. Thinking about the weeks following that, the moping and the hurt, you almost don’t blame Mika for acting the way that she did. 
Your brother had always been oblivious to all the frolicking in your heart that would ignite as Mingyu would enter the room, and for over a decade at that. And yet, it was during those weeks that he had noticed you acting like you had been dumped, asking you what on earth was wrong with you. 
“Did somebody say something to you?” he asks.
“Huh?” you frown, annoyed at the way he's planted himself directly in front of the cabinet that held your beloved moonpies. 
“You’re acting like you’ve been rejected by the love of your life. Nayeon’s not telling me anything and you’re being avoidant, what is up with you?” He huffs, hands on his hips. 
Oh, if only he knew how right he was. But you weren’t upset because the love of your life rejected you (anymore, at least), you were upset because he was a public asshole. 
It takes more coaxing from him to get you to start talking. It’s easier when he brings out the big guns: “D’you want me to tell mom?”
You tell him a little, not naming any names, much to his dismay. “Some guy was an ass, something about me being too easy or whatever.” 
“You’re upset because some drunk dude decided to run his mouth?” He scrunches his nose at the thought. “Ignore him, he’s stupid.”
“Thanks for the help, I’m cured,” you deadpan, pushing him aside to get to the gold inside the cabinets. 
“I could get Mingyu to help me beat him up, I just need a name.”
Oh. You briefly wonder how he'd feel if he had to beat up his best friend.
More than his attempts to sound like a cool older brother, the image of Mingyu beating himself up brings you more amusement than anything else. You crack a smile at the thought. 
That was months ago, yet you can’t seem to forget the hurt. Trying to shake off where your thoughts were taking you, you get up to take a walk around the store for something to do, fixing microscopic displacements on the shelves and wondering if you should restock something, only to realize you’d already done that when you came in, not wanting to whip out the ladder again to restock the ones you'd just landed from.  
Landing inevitably back behind the counter, you instinctively reach for the book wedged beside the computer. Your outstretched hand stops midway, thinking about how Mingyu’s reached as far as you in the story quite literally overnight. Retracting your hand, you decide you’d wait. 
The bell chimes signaling a customer, and you find yourself grateful for the distraction.
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It’s nearing 8:30 when you decide you should close early. It was slower than usual today, the few walk-ins leaving without purchases too hefty, rendering you bored in your seat for most of the day. You’re locking the drawers of the main desk when Mingyu walks in with the familiar tune of the bell chiming, soft smile as he greets you quietly. 
“How was your nap?” you ask, trying not to giggle at his still dazed expression. 
“Pretty good, didn’t wanna wake up though.” His voice remains relatively coarse, and you don’t miss the light indent on his left cheek. It’s endearing, enough to have you wishing you could cup his face in a loving squish. 
But you don’t. 
“You don’t say,” you comment. Pointing at your own cheek as you continue, “You sure you don’t wanna take the night off too?” 
“Fuck,” he whispers as he looks down to fumble for his phone to see for himself in his front camera. The puffiness hasn’t gone away entirely, evident when he’s frowning and looking downwards, and the urge to squeeze comes hurtling back. 
“Did you drive like this?” 
“Uh, no, I walked.”
“Walked?” You try to comprehend if that was even more dangerous. He only nods. “Why?”
“Wanted to see you.”
It takes effort to not clutch your chest at the way your heart leaps. Kim Mingyu, you bastard. 
“Had to talk about the book.”
Your voice comes out a little more breathless than you’d like, but you hope his drowsiness skips over it. “You could’ve texted.”
He pauses as he mulls it over. “I mean, yeah…I don’t know. I just put my shoes on and came here.”
You decide you’d spare him the brain power and continue your remaining closing duties, talking to him as you move around the store. 
“We can take my car to my place, better than getting distracted here.”
He only nods in response. “Do you want any help?” 
“Nope, just need to turn off the lights and lock the doors. Let me grab my bag.” 
By the time you’re home, an XL pizza and drinks in your arms to satiate Mingyu’s post nap ravenous tendencies, you drop down on the couch with a huff. Seokmin hears the ruckus and appears from his room, not wasting time to break on the pizza with Mingyu as you leave to freshen up. By the time you settle with your own slice it seems as though Mingyu has roused himself significantly more than before. 
“Okay,” you huff as you land on the soft cushioning, “What did you think about the book?”
“Hard to believe this is her first book, it’s really good.” 
“Her world building is amazing, some of the best I’ve read.”
Your back and forth discussion grows increasingly passionate, forgetting the fact that your brother was also right there excluded from the conversation. His head shifts back and forth as the both of you converse, utterly lost. It would’ve been funny, except neither if you were actually looking at him. 
He manages to get a word in as one of you pauses for breath. “Since when do you read?” 
Mingyu gapes at the question, seemingly trying to find an answer. “Recently.”
“Why?” 
“What do you mean why? I just wanted to start reading,” he scoffs in a manner that could be described as exaggerated. If he’s trying to throw Seokmin off his scent, he’s succeeded, as he watches Seokmin get up and announce that he has work to do. That leaves the both of you alone. 
The conversation takes you into the late hours of the night, Mingyu’s prior nap releasing him from the chains of reasonable sleeping hours as he remains wide awake despite the 3 AM time on the dial. You manage to keep up with him, even when he follows you to the kitchen to brew a coffee. 
“Do you usually work this hard just to make coffee?” he asks as he watches you discard the used espresso puck. 
“We have a bottle of the instant stuff here somewhere for when I’m lazy,” you explain as you pour the fresh shots into the prepped ice and milk. “Doesn’t taste the same though.” 
“Coffee is coffee,” he says as he stirs the drink you push towards him. 
“Quite the contrary. Besides, the instant stuff fucks with my stomach, I’d rather not.” You take a sip of your coffee, glancing at the sink. “Will say, hate everything I have to wash afterwards.”
“I’ll do ‘em later, gotta pay you back for all the manual labour that went into this thing,” he refers to the latte he’s sipping on currently. 
“The appreciation is enough. We can make Seok do them in the morning for being a loser and going to bed early,” you snort. Mingyu laughs at that, the image of Seokmin doing dishes while the both of you sleep in. 
“You sure you don’t wanna call it a night?” he asks you as you place yourself on the kitchen counter. 
“I’m having fun, Mingyu, seriously. I’m off tomorrow too, I don’t have to wake up,” you reassure for the nth time. 
He doesn’t reply, only stares up at you from his leaned position. He’s chewing on his lip, and you find yourself unconsciously chewing at your own, the already raw skin stinging at the abrasion. Mingyu’s hands come up to your face slowly, like he knew it was hurting as he pulls your bottom lip to release it with his thumb. 
“You’re gonna bleed,” he whispers. His hand that grasps your chin doesn’t move, rough thumb continuing to graze at your lip lightly. 
“You never stopped picking at your lips, did you?” he wonders out loud, eyes trained on your mouth. 
Your own hand comes to lightly grip at his forearm. He remembers your habit, picking at the skin of your lips since near middle school, getting yelled at when you had to excuse yourself from the dinner table when they would bleed. 
“Old habits die hard.” Your voice is thick despite the gulp you had to take before opening your mouth. 
It was true, probably too much as you continue to look at his near perfect face. The oldest habit, the hardest to die. 
Mingyu drops his hand, landing it in your lap, your own hand still gripping his forearm. You aren’t sure what’s going through you as you trail your hand up further, to his wrists, to the dip of his palm, landing on his fingers. You grip his hand, tight this time. 
“I’m gonna jump,” you whisper, and you feel his grip tighten around yours as he braces to support you off the counter. 
You face him in silence, contemplating, “It’s hot in here, let’s go back out.”
He watches as you pick your cup off the counter and leave, not waiting for him to follow you. He finds himself trying to take deeper breaths, stalling, but not for long as he joins you back on the couch.
It probably came as a shock to both of you the first time Mingyu announced his leave much earlier in the night, when you stopped him, asking him to stay. It was silent for a few sparing moments as you both absorbed what had come out of your mouth, trying to make sense of it. You found yourself needing to coax him a little more to convince him he wasn’t overstaying his visit, that you were having fun. He sits back down, warning you that this was going to be a long night. 
You don’t think you could ever forget the absolute somersault your stomach performed, the after effects leaving you still as a plank. 
It was a long night indeed. And yet, when you found your eyes closing after a fight, much later on the couch with a large blanket shared between the both of you, Mingyu watches you doze off while leaning on the couch facing him, wishing the night was longer. 
If you were awake, you probably would’ve found yourself agreeing.
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There’s a lot Mingyu has to learn about himself. He’s reminded of the fact nearly everyday. Especially right now as Seokmin runs his mouth sitting with him at a secluded booth in some bar. 
They had company, a couple guys joining them for dinner before leaving not too long after. That left him and a slightly tipsy Seokmin alone, who’s currently munching on a platter of crackers in front of him. He was bright enough, the energy from the others keeping him going as they played their drinking games and ate their obnoxious amounts of food. It was alot more somber with only the both of them left, his mood deflating as their friends slowly dwindled in number. That wasn’t about to stop him from ordering another beer though. 
“Summer’s so boring,” he grumbles in dejection, flicking a stray crumb off the table. 
“You chose to stay here,” Mingyu replies. 
Seokmin doesn’t answer him, but continues to look like a kicked puppy, a slight pout forming on his face. 
Mingyu fights the urge to scoff, “You can’t possibly be this upset about summer being depressing.” 
“It’s not about that.” 
Mingyu takes a swig of his own drink before sighing loudly, “What’s this about then?”
Seokmin says your name, and Mingyu is suddenly very interested. “She just seems to be doing a lot better since she started working at the bookstore.”
“Better?”
 “She told me about this guy a couple months ago.”
Mingyu’s trying really hard to not look visibly deflated, not that Seokmin would notice considering his state, but he attempts to sound nonchalant regardless. “Do we know him?”
“I – no, that’s not,” he huffs in exasperation, “She said she overheard him, basically calling her easy.”
“Easy?”
“I don’t know, something about her chasing his tail or whatever, she won’t tell me who it is. She hadn’t been doing too great recently and I’m pretty sure it was because of him.” 
It is dawning on Mingyu, embarrassingly slowly, that the guy Seokmin is talking about — may be him. 
His voice is hoarse, a little frantic. “And she’s doing better, you said?”
“Oh yeah, the bookstore’s been amazing for her. Not sure how though, ‘cause she just sits there doing nothing for hours.”
He can’t bring himself to meet Seokmin’s eyes, remnants of his memories flurrying around in his brain in an attempt to figure out what other bullshit he had spewed that day. He was sure you weren’t there, you couldn’t be.
“Maybe doing nothing was what she needed.” Mingyu’s reply is whatever came to him off the top of his head, mind still racing. 
“Hm, I guess. I was trying to get her to tell me, we could’ve chopped his dick off together,” Seokmin grumbles.
Mingyu winces slightly, eyes tight shut as he pinches the bridge of his nose. There’s a protective hand that subconsciously reaches his crotch area. “Yeah, yeah totally.” 
“Fucker got let off easy, he should be happy she’s doing good.” Seokmin continues to ramble, voice getting increasingly louder. 
“Yeah…”
“She’s not easy. My sister isn’t easy at all! Running after his tail, my ass! She doesn’t need some motherfucker with bad hair to be running his mouth, drunk as a bitch.” He stabs a single chopstick into the spare piece of meat on his plate, and the force has Mingyu flinching slightly. 
“How do you know he has bad hair?” Mingyu continues to stare at the impaled piece of beef that Seokmin brings to his mouth. 
“I don’t need to know a motherfucker to know he uses shitty hair gel.” 
Mingyu may try to run his hair gel past Seokmin at some point. But right now, he’s only trying to make it out of the bar with his sex organs intact.
“Hey, we’re past this, remember? She’s doing great right now and that’s all that matters.” Mingyu sounds overly flustered, but he can’t bring himself to care as he attempts to reign in an angry Seokmin. They were garnering looks, and the last thing he wanted was to get kicked out before they had paid. 
Seokmin is still huffing and puffing, but significantly less so as he finds reason in Mingyu’s words. “I’m gonna find out who he is.”
“You hate living in peace.”
“My sister’s hasn’t had any peace because of this dickwad, I’m—” 
“OKAY! Okay, got it. We’ll figure that out when you’re sober.” Mingyu rises from his own seat as he finds Seokmin lifting his own butt off his chair in a near war cry. 
He manages to fend him off, waving for the bill before he has to pull him back from aimlessly marching to whoever’s house he had in mind. He calms down as they wait for the check, finishing the remaining scraps on the table in silence. 
Seokmin seems nearly back to his regular self after a few minutes, forehead creases smoothing over during his cool down time. He speaks, except this time it’s in a more socially acceptable manner.
“Hey, I’ve been noticing, you and her have been getting pretty close lately. I don’t know, it’s just, I woke up and saw both on the couch and —” 
“Here’s your bill!” The waiter cuts him mid sentence, placing the check on the table. 
Mingyu knew what Seokmin was getting to, and he was thanking every star in the galaxy for bringing the waiter into their lives at that exact moment. He’s quick to fuss over the glossy piece of paper, humming and making comments at their purchases to fill in any silent opportunities to let Seokmin continue. Mingyu’s slips his card in the wallet.
“It’s on me,” he announces as he flashes a quick smile to the waiter. “You can cut a ten for yourself.” 
“Wait, what — let’s split, what’s wrong with you?” Seokmin jolts up as registers what’s happening a little too late. 
“It’s fine, you can pay for the next one.” He says as he shifts around the table to look for his phone. “You should probably go to bed too, it’s getting pretty late. Sleep off the beer and whatnot.” 
Seokmin is left speechless as Mingyu gets up, grabbing his stuff. 
“Wait, your card—” Seokmin starts. 
“Is here,” Mingyu spews a quick ‘thanks’ to the waiter, waving his card in front of Seokmin so he’d finally stand the fuck up.
“Do I need to drag you out of that chair, let’s go!” he says, grabbing Seok by the arm to lift him off his seat. It was nearly funny how he couldn’t get him to stay within the vicinity mere minutes ago and now is begging for him to get up. 
By the time Mingyu’s jamming Seok’s key into your apartment, he’s tired of his endless rambling. He can only appreciate his drunk brain for not bringing up the last question he tried asking him. He’s opening the door, urging Seokmin to walk inside, slapping him awake from his nap against the wall.
Mingyu deems it best to physically put him in bed for the furnitures’ sake, pushing him in front to lead him to his room. Mingyu’s spent by the time he’s done and Seokmin is snoring, his back cracking from the hunched position he’s kept from tucking him in and taking his shoes and jacket off. 
He tiptoes out (despite knowing it’d take a marching band to wake him up at that point), closing the door as quietly as possible. 
“What’re you doing here?” 
Mingyu nearly jumps out of his skin, landing a mile as he hears your voice in the dark hallway, hand coming up to his heart. “Jeez— announce yourself, would you?” 
“In my own house?” you raise an eyebrow. 
“Just—” he waves you off as he comes round, standing straight. “I was putting Seok to bed.”
You inhale sharply. “Did you drink?”
“Me? No, but he’s knocked out right now, he’s probably gonna need a pill in the morning,” he replies. 
“Hm, I’ll see to it in the morning, or whenever it is that he wakes up.” 
“Yeah.” Mingyu is standing awkwardly in front of you in the dark hall, not having anything else to say. “I’ll get going now.”
“Oh, right, yeah. Get some sleep,” you say as you let him move past you. 
“You too, don’t know why you’re awake,” he chuckles quietly. 
“Couldn’t sleep, I’ll go to bed now though.”
The awkwardness is painful, Mingyu can feel it in his chest. But what he’s feeling more is the way you look in your night shirt now that you’re in the light of the living room, legs shown farther up than you’d usually let them go. He wonders if you're wearing shorts underneath, but slaps himself out of it when he realises he’s been silent for too long. 
“Uh yeah, I’ll go now. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Mingyu.”
Mingyu replays the last five minutes in his head the entire car ride home, when he’s changing out of his clothes, when he’s brushing his teeth, when he crawls under the warm covers to finally call it a night. Mingyu thinks about what he said all those months ago at a dumb party, how he’s hurt you more than he thought he had. There’s an ache that plunges into him, the thought of you going through that because of him while he stayed blissfully unaware. 
He doesn’t know what he’s gonna do to make it up to you, but right now, he’s happy. Happier than he’s been in a while, falling asleep to the thought of you. 
“Goodnight, Mingyu.”
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You, on the other hand, are far from happy as you find yourself in yet another car related predicament. 
Having to run to work in the middle of July is never a preferred option, yet you find yourself needing to do it anyway when you walk out to your engine refusing to start. 
You really needed a new car. 
Abandoning the hunk of what was turning out to be just expensive scrap metal, you rile other options out in your head. 
Seokmin was long gone with his car. The bus was gonna take too long. No way in hell were you about to overpay a taxi to take you somewhere that was essentially just a 15 minute walk (read as run). 
So you find yourself slinging your bag as a crossbody, thanking the heavens that you at least didn’t need to change your shoes. You pray for your white sneakers as you run across town, blurting apologies to passerbys that would gape at your hurried form. As apologetic as you were, it didn’t compare to how sorry you felt for yourself, the heat pricking your skin in an agitated rise anytime you’d slow down. 
The AC is near heavenly as you gasp walking into the bookstore, red faced and hair sticking to your forehead. 
“Sorry,” you gulp frantically. “Sorry, I’m late.”
“Oh god,” you hear your boss comment as she sees you walk in. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, I just need a minute. Car broke down.”
She ushers you in front of the AC, waiting for you to collect yourself before taking her leave. 
“I think I’m okay now, sorry about that.” Your chuckle comes out a little choked. So much for being convincing. 
“You really should get a new car. I have a friend who’s daughter is selling hers, do you want me to ask them for you?” She’s patting your shoulder as she talks to you, and you recognize her courage to look past the sweat that’s accumulated there.  
“That’d be great actually, thank you.” 
Your second blow of the day comes right after you’ve finally gotten rid of the buckets of sweat on your body, seating yourself behind your desk to do some digging of your own.
You immediately wish you hadn’t as soon as you open the first second hand market site, the price tags landing you somewhere between never happening and impossible. Groaning, you place your head in your hands as you try to think of what to do. You pray your boss would come back with a quote that isn’t as outrageous as everything else you’ve cursed your eyes upon, seeing as that seemed the only viable option for you. 
Closing the windows off your computer, you decide this was a headache for another time. You reach for your bag to rummage through it, only to find yourself in your third predicament of the day. 
You had forgotten your book. 
It shouldn’t have been a worry, considering you were in a bookstore and had access to about 56 more of the same edition that you could borrow for the day. Except it was a worry, because your copy had been religiously tabbed and annotated as you would read, not a single thought left to be forgotten in your head as they would spring up. You can almost see the pink cover sitting on your desk and you nearly begin to cry. 
You wonder if you could break your ‘one book at a time’ streak for the sake of it, picking up another one off the shelf to start. The thought nearly makes you gag, the anxiety of losing interest in your current one leading you to sit aimlessly at your desk for the rest of the day. 
What’s even more anxiety inducing to you, however, was the promise you’d made with Mingyu the week prior, to be finished with the book by the end of today so you could finally decide whether the end was worth it or not. The thought has you nearly picking up a copy off the shelf anyway, annotations be damned. Force of habit, however, forbids you as you are shunned by yourself to play solitaire for the rest of the day. 
Things seem to look up for you though, as you find yourself reading a text from Mingyu nearly halfway through your day. 
You hadn’t spoken to Mingyu at all for the entire week, caving when you found an excuse to finally talk to him to ask where he’d left off on the book. It was even longer before that, reaching the near three week mark where you were virtually zero contact.  
You’d be lying if you said it didn’t bother you, his sudden absence raising a mild panic within you as your mind raced with the possibilities. 
Was he uncomfortable with you? 
Was he avoiding you? 
Were you less low key than you thought? Was he catching on to how you still weren’t over him? 
The wilder thoughts seemed to be laid to rest when you couldn’t take it anymore, texting under the guise of your mutual book topic. Your brain still couldn’t handle it, picking up minuscule details in his texting behavior. Perhaps his replies were choppy, perhaps they were shorter than usual, but it was enough to give your mind the rest it needed regardless of whatever the facts were. 
Needless to say, you were more than happy to receive a text from him first after weeks, immediately replying. 
[Mingyu]: hey  [Mingyu]: are you at work today?  [You]: yeah  [You]: i get off at 10 tho  [Mingyu]: can i see you today? 
You try to contain the growing flurry of excitement as you type. It was easier to stay casual over text, you find yourself appreciating. 
[You]: course [You]: are you coming to the store?  [Mingyu]: i’ll meet you at your place when you get off  [You]: okay!!! [You]: see you then 
There’s a ghost of a smile on your face as you switch to playing computer chess in celebration. Your day was going horribly, but perhaps it was to balance out the happiness you were feeling at the thought of seeing Mingyu in person after nearly a month. 
Were you being dramatic? Possibly. But you figured you’d been left waiting long enough. You let yourself have a spring in your step for the rest of the day, closing up nearly an hour early as you practically skipped back home, enjoying the significantly better nightly weather. Maybe you were abusing your employee privileges, but you couldn’t take the anticipation anymore. 
Humming to yourself, you're hopping into the shower as soon as you get home, wanting to freshen up as quickly as possible before he gets here. It was near heaven’s plan the way the day is unfolding for you. Perhaps the universe knew you needed the time to unwind today, bringing Mingyu to you despite the near four week gap. 
Grabbing your pens and your book, you settle on the kitchen counter to do something you’d been looking forward to all day, nearly giddy that Mingyu would be joining you to wind down with you soon enough. You’re invested by the time the doorbell rings, a simultaneous text from Mingyu, confirming that he was at the door. 
Opening the front door is probably the easiest thing you’ve done all day, grin at the ready as you greet him. 
“Hey,” you breathe out at the sight of him. 
“Hi,” he replies, slipping inside as you give him space to take off his shoes. 
Leading him into the kitchen, you comment lightheartedly, “Nice to see you’re still alive.” 
He chuckles slightly at that, “Yeah…sorry about that. I’ve been pretty caught up with…stuff.”
“The exhibition? Weren’t you nearly done with that?” you question as you pass him a glass of water. 
He takes a sip before setting it down again, both hands holding the cup on the counter. “It wasn’t that, I’ve been done for a while. Just waiting.” 
“It’s next week, isn’t it?” 
He hums in response, taking another minuscule sip of water.  
“What was it that was keeping you this occupied for so long then?” you continue with a slight snort, trying not to over analyze his slightly…off putting behavior. 
“Uh,” he starts, “Is Seokmin home?” 
“Seokmin?” you frown, confused. Was he here to see your brother? “He’s out. I thought you knew.”
“Yeah, I know. Just confirming.” 
“Oh.” You sit down on your own chair at the counter, trying to make sense of his mood. 
“Mingyu, are you okay—”
“I need to talk to you.” 
“O-okay.” 
It’s silent. Painfully so. 
“I don’t know how else to bring this up so I’m just gonna cut to the chase.” 
There’s no reply from your end as you simply stare at him in anticipation, wondering what on earth had him looking this serious as he faces you in his seat. 
“I know I’ve done a lot to hurt you. Never enough to match what you’ve felt, but I know you’ve been through the muck because of me, and it makes me feel horrible that I was the cause of something like that.” 
“Mingyu—“
“I want to apologize, before I say anything else. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. And I know an apology isn’t gonna take away what I did to you, but I just need you to know that I’m really, really sorry.”
His breathing is heavy as he talks, while yours is near nonexistent as you need to remind yourself to breathe manually. 
“I’ve done a lot of growing up in the past year. And I hate myself for making you a subject of that transition when you were the last person that deserved it. I’m happy to say that won’t happen again, because I’ve learned my lesson. For good.”
He pauses. 
“I’m not asking you to forgive me, because… because I don’t know if I’ll ever deserve it for what I’m about to say. I may be acting selfish right now but, I think you deserve to know after everything.”
“I love you. I love you so, so much it hurts. I…I’m sorry, I love you. I don’t know how else to say it but, I love you. And I might be hurting you even more with this but I swear I’m not lying. I love you.”
There’s tears now, heavy ones that drip down his face as he refuses to look back up at you, eyes screwed shut in a desperate attempt to halt the pure emotion that’s trailing down. 
You have your own wet cheeks, glossy, shaking eyes that don’t tear away from his hunched form. You’re listening. You’re listening to everything and it’s too much. 
“Mingyu,” you whisper. You give up on trying to talk as you let out a breath that sounds almost like a sob. 
It’s silent for a few more moments as you absorb everything that’s happening, mind running a hundred miles an hour yet, still as a rock. It’s too much. 
“Mingyu, I can’t believe you’re saying this to me.” Your voice is quivering, but you manage the words. “After everything. You’re standing in this very kitchen and saying this to me.”
The deja vu was overwhelming, and you’re projected back to last year when the both of you stood on these very tiles, as you poured your heart out to the man in front of you, only to be told you were an idiot to think he could ever love you like that. The words may not have been said, but the message was clear: you were not made for Kim Mingyu. 
And yet, you find yourself in front of an apologetic man, expressing his remorse. And oozing love for you, of all people. Why now? You want to scream. Where was this when you were ready to take him so willingly in your arms. 
You’re lying if you say you still don’t want to plant yourself in his hold to sob out your own wretched “I love you”’s. You wanted to go to him. To take what you’ve wanted for so, so long. 
But you can’t. You can’t do it. 
“I know,” he whispers. “I’m not asking you to do something about any of this. I’m not asking anything of you at all. I just need you to know.”
You bite back a remark, trying so hard to calm yourself down. 
“I think you should go.” Your voice breaks. “Please.”
Mingyu is gone. But his scent lingers. His cup remains on the counter, the same one he put his lips to. As he prepared to speak, and speak, and speak. 
You can’t stand to stay in the kitchen anymore. 
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You were fourteen the first time Mingyu broke your heart. 
It was an accident, perhaps, considering you were willing to do absolutely anything to be around Mingyu when your brother would have him over. What you didn’t know this time, was that the both of them had company. 
Tiptoeing down the hall was easy the second you heard your brother's voice coming from the kitchen, announcing that he was getting drinks for them. The plan was simple; walk in under the guise of being annoyed at Seokmin for something and then relish when Mingyu would defend you from his inevitable rage — except this time you’d have a few extra minutes alone with him before your brother trudged back.  
Putting on the best annoyed face you could, you stalk past Seokmin’s room, immediately wishing you hadn’t. Mingyu was in your brother's room as expected, sitting on the floor, surrounded by papers with numbers and letters too complex. But he wasn’t alone. There was a girl that sat between his legs, turned over in his arms as they whisper to each other. They weren’t studying at all; the giggles and smiles were a dead giveaway. 
You halt in your tracks at the edge of the doorway in mild disbelief, brain computing the situation in front of you. They hadn’t noticed you yet, it was apparent with the way she leans into him to place her lips on his in a peck. 
There’s a yell of your name behind you as Seokmin sees you loitering around his room. You jump in surprise, not expecting him back so quickly. Your brother, too, isn’t alone, a girl of his own accompanying him with her arms full of cans, peeking over his shoulder to catch sight of your distressed form. 
“What’re you doing?”
Running was the worst thing you could do, and yet you found yourself doing just that in your cornered state. Catapulting face first into your pillows, the sobs coming before you could muffle them. It was humiliating, even more so when you feel your mother’s hand coming up to your shoulder in a stretch of comfort. 
“I yelled at him, he won’t do it again!” she attempted to reason with you, trying endlessly to get you to emerge from your cavern of comforters. 
“It’s not that!” you groan.
“What is it then? Darling, I won’t know if you won’t tell me.” 
Your mother gave up a little bit after that, and your brother had apologized for yelling at you; apologized for all the wrong reasons. You brushed him over.
There were worse things circling your mind in that moment, like the image of Mingyu in a liplock with another girl, the image of him holding her with all his limbs. 
You couldn’t imagine anything worse than that.
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“What the fuck, is wrong with the both of you?” Your brother swoops in like a pesky seagull and snatches the book right out of your hands, eyes blown in exasperation. 
“What the fuck is wrong with you?! Give it back!” you yell, reaching for the book that he’s placed over his head. Climbing the couch does little when he simply moves away from you. 
“Not until you tell me what’s going on between you and Mingyu.” 
“Nothing is — ugh,” you drop back onto the couch in frustration. You take a deep breath. “Nothing is going on. Now can I have my fucking book back?” 
“No, you're avoiding each other.”
“He’s your friend, why would I hang out with him?” 
“Stop dodging the question!” he spits. 
“Stop dodging.” You exclaim as you jump for the book another time. 
“Why don’t you want to go to the exhibition?” He throws the book to the corner of the room. It takes every fiber in your body to stop yourself from plucking every strand of hair off his head. 
“Seokmin!” you scream. 
“Your book’s fine. Is this about the guy you told me about?” He asks, hands grabbing you by the upper arms, forcing you to look at him. 
“No, it’s not,” you grit. 
“Why don’t you want to go to the exhibition?” he repeats, making direct eye contact. 
“Because,” you start, exhaling deeply, “I’m tired.”
“It’s an exhibition for fucks sake, an exhibition with your face plastered all over it. You go in for five minutes and you’re out. Put something on and let’s go!” 
“I don’t want to go.”
“I’m not taking no for an answer. You’ve been doing nothing but go to work and stay home, you need air.”
“I need you out of my air,” you swat his hands away, thoroughly disgruntled. 
“I’m giving you twenty minutes.” 
He was serious, you realize as he begins to pound on your door with two minutes left to spare. You decided you weren’t about to be embarrassing and show up in your sweatpants, encasing the final shreds of dignity you had left. You couldn’t imagine being asked “who?” when the face on the walls doesn’t match with the one you brought to the place, not doubting the number of fancy scouters that’d be gracing the crowd tonight.
 Opting for a plain black dress and a coverup felt enough for you, your usual makeup and matching accessories helping you feel better about the bags under your eyes your concealer couldn’t quite erase. 
Seokmin says nothing for probable fear of having you landing back on the couch, choosing to ask you a simple, “Ready?” instead.
The drive is short and silent, the remnants of you and your brother's prior argument still hanging in the air. You weren’t about to apologize to each other, but you would let the hours cool you off before you’re back to your normal selves. For now, you’re glad to step out of the stuffy car, the anticipation having you needing to breathe in an elevated sense. 
The place is more crowded than you thought it would be, men and women in fancier than necessary clothes loitering the entrance carpeting. You suddenly feel underdressed. 
Catching Mingyu’s name is easy, the display at the front doing the most to highlight the star of the night, catching sight of him is proving a little more difficult. Not that you’re trying, but Seokmin’s embarrassing neck stretches are having you restraining yourself from pulling him down by the collar. 
Walking into the display is a strange experience, for you at least. The pictures are larger than you’d thought they would be, spanning the giant walls of the gallery. Your face is huge. 
There’s a few other one’s that scatter between the portraits, beautiful all the same. You find yourself wandering as you note the plaques next to the pieces, descriptions and words from the artist; Mingyu’s words. It’s easy to begin looking at the pictures through his eyes, the meticulous scanning you’re doing proving easier for you to zone out despite the crowd. 
You’ve gone through nearly every picture, approaching the last one, the one that looked a little more important than the rest as you take in its size. The steps you take towards the plaque are halted as you hear someone calling for you. You recognize his voice, how could you not?
Mingyu is weaving through the crowd to get to you, eyes locked as he tries to make way for himself. Your mouth is open by the time he’s here, mind frantic as you try to figure out what you should say. 
Congratulations.
You’ve worked hard on this. 
This looks great.
How’ve you been?
“You’re here,” he says, simple as that. 
“I’m here,” you breathe out, a nervous smile on your face as you look down at your shoes. 
“Seok told me you were here too.” 
Your head snaps up, “You were looking for me?” 
“I mean, it’s a bit difficult with the crowd—”
“Oh,” you cut him off before you could forget. “Congratulations, by the way. The turnout looks great.”
“Uh, yeah. It’s great.” His eyes skim around the large hall.
You hate how his craning is drawing your eyes to everything else. So to say the plain black button up and slacks he’s sporting, the thin chain he wears around the unbuttoned collar. You hate how he’s put in no effort, and you hate how it makes him look even better somehow. 
“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asks after he rounds back to you. 
Your reply is drowned in your throat as somebody calls for him across the hall, pointing at a mic in their hands. 
“I have to go address everyone, you’ll be here, right?” he asks, but he once again has no chance to listen to your answer when somebody physically drags him by the elbow and yanks him away from you. You lose sight of him in the crowd of people, his face disappearing.
It gives you enough opportunity to slowly turn around to go back to your plaque reading, exhaling loudly as you walk up to the final, biggest piece on the wall. It’s labeled as the focal point of the collection. It’s a picture of you, and for some reason, you can’t remember taking it, or posing for it at all. 
You recognize the mountain top, more so the grueling trek up the place for your last shoot with him. It’s a side profile, your arms folding over the railing, face tucked into your padded arms. A single ray of light illuminates your eyes, the background soft. 
The picture was an accident. A moment that may have gone forgotten, yet one that appeared right when it was meant to. A mistake made on purpose, one that manages to carry the weight of years. A slow accession of golden rays, dawn illuminating the subject in hues indescribable, except those that describe a feeling. A feeling in turn, indescribable.
Soft. Legible. New.
You take a step back. 
And another
Then another. 
You look at the picture, the picture of you. Taken the one time you weren’t actively posing for the camera, the one time he wasn’t meant to take a picture of you. It landed here, at the seemingly deserved position of a final piece. The piece that was meant to emulate all that the artist wanted to come out of his work. 
You crane your neck up higher, the name of the collection in bold block letters right above the picture that supposedly says it all. 
THE BEGINNING
There’s a ball forming in your throat, one that's cementing itself where it stays. 
There’s noise happening in your peripherals, somebody speaking into a mic on stage. You’re not paying attention until you hear his name. 
“I’m pleased to present to you the man of the hour, mister Kim Mingyu…” 
You watch with glossy eyes as he takes the stand, clearing his throat before he begins to speak. 
You needed to leave. 
Finding Seokmin is easy, and you thank every plane of heaven that it is, considering you’d rather be caught dead than be seen red nosed and teary eyed. 
“Let’s go home.”
“Huh? Right now? He just started talking.” Seokmin argues, tearing his eyes away from the stage to gape at you, only to note the expression on your face. “Hey, what’s wrong?” 
“Seokmin, you said five minutes.” You grip his sleeve tight. “Please, either give me the keys, or I’ll get a cab.” 
He pauses for a moment, and you immediately hate yourself for making him choose between staying for his best friend or leaving for his sister. He slowly comes down to grip your hand, pulling you away. 
“Let me drop you off home.” 
You’ve calmed down a significant amount during the car ride home, managing to convince (fight) Seokmin into going back to the exhibition hall before Mingyu noticed that he was gone. You wouldn’t forgive yourself if you made him miss something as important as this just because you couldn’t control your emotions.
He hugs you at the door, tight, and you hug back just as strong, holding back the river of tears that suddenly threaten to let loose. He presses his lips to your temple, muttering a little ‘I love you’ before he leaves. He knew nothing, yet was ready to comfort you like he did.
You let yourself sob after that, as wracking and strong as they’d come. It’s freeing, to fall to your knees and simply cry like a child. You aren’t sure what it is that you’re crying about, yet you know all the same. The thought of both those things make your head begin to spin, causing another fresh wave of tears to come rushing down. 
Remnants of the day Mingyu spoke his truth to you in your own kitchen come tumbling back; the shock, the anger, the hurt, and despite everything, the love.
You loved Mingyu, you weren’t going to sit here and deny it when you were a mess of jewels on the floor with only his face at the forefront of your mind. You’re a liar if you say you don’t love him. You’re a liar if you say you’ll ever stop. 
Years and years of pining and wishing and praying, to hope that one day, Mingyu would open his eyes with the realization that he loves you the same. 
The day came. Your prayers were granted, your wishes came true; you no longer had to sit on the sidelines as an ignored constant. And yet, you found yourself wanting to be anywhere but in his presence as the prayer unfolded. 
Were you too weak to handle reciprocation? Have you gotten comfortable pining by yourself? Or was it something completely else. Were you still hurt by his words? Were you aghast at his audacity to have the courage to speak his heart to you, when you went years without doing so? 
Were you protecting yourself? Or were you actively throwing the golden chance you’d received right out the window? 
You’re tired, it’s evident with the effort it takes you to simply reach your bedroom, heels thrown somewhere in the doorway as you made the trek barefooted. Hoping your muscles would release the pent up tension at the learnt feeling of the mattress, you find yourself closing your eyes awaiting the relief. 
Still clad in your dress and makeup, you attempt to find the solace of sleep, knowing you’d feel nothing if there was nothing to perceive. The universe doesn’t seem to want to give you that luxury, your eyes wide awake despite closed lids. The thoughts aren’t showing signs of slowing down either, every part of your mind alive as you remain still as a rock on your bed. 
You aren’t sure how long you’ve been in bed, but as you hear the distinct jingle of keys in a lock, you know Seokmin is home. The door of your room is opened very quietly, and closed just as quick when he sees your form in bed seemingly asleep. 
You open your eyes for the first time in hours, the darkness remaining as you slowly sit up against the cushions. Your movements are sluggish as you stare into the abyss, brain quiet for once as you swing your bare legs over the mattress, slowly trudging down the hall to your brother's bedroom. 
Knocking slowly, you hear a slight shuffle before the door is opened, the light from inside the room illuminating the dark hall and forcing you to squint. 
“Did I wake you?” Seokmin asks, sporting formal trousers with his dinosaur pajama shirt.
“Uh, no, I was awake.”
“Why haven’t you changed yet?” 
You ignore him, cutting straight to the chase, “Can I borrow your car?” 
There’s silence for nearly three seconds before Seokmin speaks, “What on earth do you need my car for this late at night?” 
“Nayeon’s” 
“Bullshit.”
You let out a loud, loud sigh, “Will you believe it for now?” 
Your brother looks at you with an expression you can’t really pinpoint, eyes like he’s scanning into your soul. “The keys are at the door.”
You walk back to your room to grab your phone and your cover up, not bothering to change as you grab Seokmin’s keys and leave. It probably wasn’t a good idea to leave the house so late at night, but your brain seems to have activated tunnel vision as you nearly stalk towards the car. You’re pulling up to where you need to be within minutes, the empty roads leading you on near autopilot. 
By the time you’re standing in front of the door, your desire to settle this once and for all turns pungent in your head. You needed to end this one way or another, you were tired of running in circles. 
Ringing the doorbell is easy, it’s just the realization that settles during those few moments of waiting that grab you by the throat. You were really doing this. 
Mingyu opens the door quicker than you’d anticipated, after briefly wondering if he’d already gone to sleep after the long day he’s probably had. His brows furrow as he registers you at his door, your name tumbling out of his lips in mild confusion. He’s still in the clothes you saw him last, and you doubt it’s been long since he got home too. 
“Promise me you mean it,” you say. 
“What?”
“Promise me you mean it.”
“Mean what?” The crease between his brows deepens as he tries to make sense of what you’re saying. 
“Whatever you said. Promise me you mean it. Promise me. On all the years we spent together, on every truth you've ever said to me. Promise on me that you mean it.”
The silence is deafening, yet you wait. You wait for him to respond. You wait for him to understand what you’re saying. 
Mingyu gulps before opening his door wider, expression neutralizing slightly as he invites you inside. “Why're you standing on the door? Come inside.”
“I’m not taking another step in your direction, Kim Mingyu, not until you answer me,” you snap. 
Letting his hand leave the grip on the door, he brings them both up to rub at his face, taking a simultaneous breath, deep and shaky. When he emerges his eyes are showing a hint of red as he licks his lips. 
Your grip on your own fingers tighten as Mingyu talks. 
“I want to rip my heart out for what it wants from you. I want to rip it out for what it did to yours. Believe me when I say I’ve forgotten how it felt to be this sincere. I love you. I don't deserve to say it, but I love you.”
There’s a beat that passes, one that you barely feel as you throw your bag on the floor of his entryway, grabbing him by the collar with both hands as you yank his face down to hover right in front of yours, nose touching, lips not quite. 
“If you’re lying to me,” you whisper, shaky voiced, “I’m gonna chop your balls off.”
Mingyu answers for you as he finally, finally closes the cursed gap between you, lips capturing yours in a long awaited kiss. You let him pull you inside as you move your lips against each other, the distinct click of the door signaling you were finally inside. 
His hands grip your hips and waist in a manner that’s near painful, yet you can’t find yourself complaining even as he pushes you against the now closed door, hard. His mouth leaves yours for what is barely a second, before your desperate hands move his face back in to continue what you’ve been wanting to do for years. 
His mouth is warm, the vaguest hint of champagne on his tongue. You wonder how many toasts he’s clinked and downed, how many times he thought of you as he celebrated. 
“I love you,” you mumble against his lips. 
Mingyu’s hands are pushing your body against his own, so flush and tight you can barely breathe. Like he’d rather die than bring space between the two of you in that moment. 
“I love you, too,” he mumbled back between kisses. “I love you so much.”
Both of your hands are beginning to roam, less innocent than the fingers tangled in his hair and digging into his shoulders, less innocent than the grips on your hips and neck. It isn’t until his hands are groping your ass that you begin to subconsciously tug at his shirt, wanting the wretched thing out of the way to finally feel him in full. 
There’s a warm hand that grips yours as he stops you, lips pulling away slightly as he rests his forehead against yours. There’s a wild moment of sobriety as you wonder if you’ve read the situation wrong, if you pushed too far. 
“You’re asking me for something I’m ready to give you.” He sounds breathless. “But I need to know if you really want it.”
He looks absolutely gorgeous with his swollen lips, your lipstick staining his own mouth, his messy hair from all the desperate fingers running through them. It takes one look into his bedroom eyes to have your yeses tumbling out your mouth. 
“I want it. I want it if you’ll give it to me. Mingyu, please.”
He leans in to give you a soft peck before pulling away slowly. “You can stop me whenever, just say the word.”
He’s facing you as he speaks, hands pulling you further into the house in slow and steady steps. “I’m not gonna do anything you don’t want me to, I promise.”
By the time you reach the four walls of his bedroom, you’re itching to have his hands on you again, something he senses as he presses his hot mouth to your awaiting lips. His touches become decreasingly respectful as his hands run up your sides, thumbs brushing against the sides of your clothed breasts as he moves his mouth further down. 
Kisses line your jaw, reaching the joint as he nips at your earlobe teasingly. Pushing the coverup off of your shoulders is easy, fingers tracing the exposed skin as his mouth moves down to your neck, nipping and sucking teasingly. Your breathing is embarrassingly heavy. 
“You’re gorgeous,” you hear him breathe out. 
His fingers fit under the zipper of your dress not too long after, pulling it down to reveal your back tantalizingly slow. His hands smooth over your waist once he reaches the bottom, bringing them up to your upper body as you feel his palms grab your breasts in a soft squeeze. The moan you let out is small, but enough to encourage him to bring his hands to the straps of your dress, pulling them down your shoulders one after the other. 
“Do you realize how good you looked in this today,” he says. “Was so happy you came, so, so happy to see you after so long.”
Mingyu kisses you again in a slow, passionate manner, hands pushing down the tight fabric of the bodice to let it fall off your body to a pile on the floor. It leaves you bare save for your bra and panties. 
Mingyu lets out a groan at the sight in the dimly lit room, the sound checking in as one of the hottest things you’ve ever heard, the vibrations leading straight to your core like they belonged there. The focus goes back to his hands that continue to roam your body, mouth traveling further south to leave hot, open mouthed kisses on your cleavage. 
Your own fingers come up to fiddle with the buttons of his dress shirt, managing to pull a couple loose as you whine, “Mingyu.”
“Patience, my love.” He moves you backwards slowly as his mouth leaves your chest, pushing you into the plush of his mattress as you feel the back of your knees bump into the edge. “Let me take my time with you.”
He brings a knee up to the bed as he keeps his gaze on you, beginning to unbutton the rest of his shirt as you prop yourself up on your elbows. For once, you’re allowed to stare at the sculpt of his chest and abdomen, letting your gaze take you to the dipped V before the cut off. The mere sight of his fingers working against his belt have you needing to close your thighs for the sake of your now throbbing core. 
Only clad in his dark boxers, you let him climb over you in a way you can only describe as a prowl, inserting himself between your legs as he pushes your head up to the headboard. The hand that splays out on your thigh is having the muscle twitch, the anticipation for what he might do next gripping you. 
“Let me get this off of you,” he says with his hands toying with the elastic of your bra, prompting you to arch your back so he could reach under to unclasp it in a way you can only call professional. 
There’s barely any time for you to feel a semblance of embarrassment when he flings the padding away, mouth coming in direct contact with your breast in a harsh suck. The feeling has you moaning his name into the dark room, only encouraging his wet tongue to circle around the bud before going back to suckling. He doesn’t forget your other breast as he brings his hand up to squeeze the mound and play with your nipples the same. 
The sensations are overwhelming already, your hands gripping his hair in desperation as you throw your head back at his ministrations. The ache in your underwear is becoming increasingly difficult to resist, the foreign feeling of his mound against your inner thigh only coursing more want into your awaiting heat. 
Your chest is a mess of redness and saliva but the time Mingyu’s had his fill, pulling away to admire the work he’s left. 
“Fuck, Mingyu, please,” his name is the only thing that comes out in your pleas, hoping he’d give you wanted before you lost your mind for good. 
“I love this lighting on you,” he says simply, moving to sit on his knees as he takes his eyes up and down your practically naked frame. 
Both hands come in to push your thighs further apart, giving him better access to the gold that sits right in between. “You’re beautiful.” 
You feel the pad of his thumb come in contact with your clit in the lightest pressure, slowly brushing over the muscle as he continues. “The most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.” 
He presses his thumb in further, pushing down to meet your hole, the source of the large wet patch on the fabric of panties. The whimpers the new feeling is having you let out are near embarrassing. Hooking his fingers around your panties, he asks, “Can I take these off?” 
“Yes!” you gasp out immediately, hip rising to let them slide the pesky fabric off and away. 
He wastes no time in bringing his fingers to your folds, gathering your arousal in his fingers as he spreads them across your throbbing clit. He’s rubbing the area in circular motions, the feeling having you wracking out sounds you never thought you could make. The sheets are bunched up in your grip as you throw your head back at the feeling that encases you, eyes screwed shut. 
“Oh, Mingyu,” 
That only encourages him as his other hand joins the party, a lone finger circling your entrance in preparation to plunge into you, slowly, all the way to the hilt of his finger. Zoning in on the feeling, the pump of his fingers into your core, the constant ministrations of his other thumb on your clit. Your hands leave his wrinkled sheets as they come in to grip his wrists and forearm, needing to feel his skin to anchor yourself into the present. Not being able to bring yourself to open your eyes, he takes it upon himself to insert another finger, encouraging your lids to fly open at the stretch and the loud moan that comes with it. 
“God, you’re so fucking wet, I’m barely pushing.” It may have embarrassed you a little if you weren’t so withdrawn from pleasure, the prospect only having you whimper his name even more. 
It isn’t when he curls his fingers inside you that you feel the need to stifle the sounds that come out of your throat, hand to mouth as the volume has you needing to shut yourself up. He brings his hand off your clit to grab you by the wrist, freeing your mouth of restraint. 
“Don’t,” his voice gravelly as he gets off his knees to hover over you, his other hand continuing to pump his fingers in and out of you in perfect motions. “I wanna hear your voice. I wanna hear all the pretty sounds you’re making.”
He leans in to place a chaste kiss on your mouth, fingers quickening their pace as your sounds grow louder, “Mingyu, I think I’m…I think I’m close.” 
“It’s okay, let go whenever, darling, it’s okay.” His other hand goes back to its rightful position on your clit, thumb circling the bud in quick motions as he encourages you to climax. 
And you do. The blissful release comes crashing into you hard, the feeling leaving nothing but white hot space in the expanse of your brain, letting the feeling take over as you melt into the sheets. “F-fuck…”
He doesn’t stop either hand till you physically have to push his fingers off of you, the overstimulation coming in hot. 
You don’t come around for a little bit, but feel every searing kiss he leaves on your skin in the aftermath. Pressed into your chest, your collarbones, you neck and your jaw. He makes his way up to your face slowly, pressing his lips onto your closed lids as you wait for your breathing to even out. His face is the first thing you see when you open your eyes, leaning forward to press your own lips against his. 
“How was that?” he asks slowly, and you don’t miss the hint of a smirk on his face. You can’t help but break into a smile of your own. 
“Great.”
“Great?”
“Amazing.” You lean in to kiss him again, palms coming in contact with the expanse of his back as you move your mouths together. It’s not long before your fingers reach the waistband of his boxers, hands coming up front to feel him through the fabric, palming him in the process. 
You feel him shudder in your hold, lips pulling away as he stares into your eyes. 
“What?” you ask in a whisper when he makes no other moves. 
“I’m trying to think if I have condoms or not,” he whispers back, and you can’t help but let out a laugh at his delivery. He begins to giggle with you, backing up as he reaches over to rummage through his nightstand. 
“Fuck yeah,” you hear him say as he comes round with the shiny pack. He’s giggling as he undoes the wrapper, the lighthearted nature of it all bringing a laugh to your own lips. 
Pulling his underwear down and off, you watch as he preps himself with the rubber, your own hand coming up in a trance to stroke his gorgeous length lightly, his palms ghosting over your hand at the feeling. Once he decides he can’t take it anymore he’s grabbing both your wrists to pin them beside your head in one swift motion, earning a gasp from you at the abruptness. 
“I’m gonna put the tip in first, let you adjust before I go in further,” he explains as he uses his knee to push your thighs apart to grant him more access. “I’m gonna listen to you throughout, okay? Just say so if you want me to stop, I’ll hear you.” 
When you don’t reply he continues, “I need to know you heard me, baby.” 
“I heard you,” you answer, and he finally lets go of one of your hands to guide his length to your entrance, gathering your remaining arousal. He’s sliding his tip across your folds, grinding onto your clit within his length and it has you nearly careening off the edge. 
“Mingyu, in, please!” you beg, and you hear him chuckle before he’s finally pressing the tip into your prepped hole. 
You almost breathe a sigh of relief as you feel him begin to push into your hot core, keeping his promise of only getting to the tip, before bringing himself out and going back in. He’s slow as he stretches you out, his hands coming up to the sides of your head as he tucks his face into the crook of your neck. Lifting one of your legs, you wrap them around his waist as you grant him further access into you, one of his hands coming up to keep your raised leg steady. 
He halts when he finally bottoms out, pausing for breath. “You okay?”
“Yeah, just,” you manage, arms wrapped around his shoulders tight. “Give me a second.” 
When you give him the green light and he begins to move out slowly, only to thrust back in, you find yourself settling into the sheets more consciously, ready to take what he was about to finally give you. You’re both a mess of whimpers and sounds, the feeling overtaking any shreds of restraint you had left. His hands are groping you everywhere, his fingers finding your breasts again as he begins to toy with your nipples, all while thrusting into you at a steady yet equally maddening pace.
He feels amazing, beyond just his dick. The feeling of his body pressed against yours is heavenly, the tears beginning to slowly prick at your eyes as you let yourself melt into his hold, a metaphorical layer away from morphing into his skin entirely. The sounds he’s making are pure melodies, the groans, grunts and heavy moans floating around in your otherwise empty head like they’d never ever leave. They do more when they encourage the building feeling in your abdomen, your moans growing increasingly erratic. 
If the bed is creaking from his incessant thrusting, you don’t hear it. The only thing ringing in your head being the near closure you’re about to receive from him. “Gyu, I’m…”
“Shit, me too.” he grunts, and you believe him as his movements begin to grow sloppier, his hips slamming into yours with more force than before. 
And then it’s bliss, the feeling dropping in on your body as you feel yourself begin to spasm in his hold, the loudest moan ripping from your throat at the sensation. You’re contracting around him so, so good, and it’s enough to have him moaning into your own ear as he feels his climax come over him as well. 
He’s shooting his load into the rubber, and for a wild moment you wish he’d rip it off and finish inside you instead, your blabbering brain wanting to take all of him in. The fever passes in a few heavy minutes, Mingyu’s body is dropped on top of you, his length remaining inside your warmth as you both relished in the post sex haze. 
He’s first to pick his sweltering body off of yours, the cool air hitting your skin as he pulls out of you slowly. You’re still trying to come to earth, even when you hear the water beginning to run in the attached bathroom, even when he walks out in a fresh pair of boxers, walking over to your form on the bed. 
His fingers run through your hair as he places soft kisses on your temple, coaxing you to open your eyes. “Come on babe. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
When you make no moves to get up despite opening your eyes, he’s physically pulling you up to grace your head on his chest in an effort to take a step back into the world. His fingers continue to thread through your hair, massaging your head lightly as you breathe in his scent. You do end up getting up and letting him lead you to the bathroom, but only after he threatens to carry you there over his shoulder. The bath is already drawn when you dip your feet into the warm water, planting yourself inside as you lean against the walls of the tub.
“Gyu, why is it warm?” you whine, wanting a cooler temperature to hit your sticky body. 
He chuckles as he sits by the tub, hands coming in to wet your hair for you, “I’m scared your body’s gonna go into shock if I chucked you into a cold bath. You’ll feel better in a minute, love.” 
You don’t argue as he does most of the work for you, shampooing, scrubbing and conditioning. He lets you sit in the tub for a little bit as he leaves to get you a towel and a shirt, coming back to continue coaxing you to leave the tub this time. You grab his outstretched hand, pulling him down to sit next to you again. 
“Sit with me for a little bit, right here,” you say as you lean over the edge of the tub. 
“I can sit with you in bed once you’re dried up,” he tries to reason. “Under the covers. Where it’s more comfortable than hard acrylic, remember?” 
Pouting a little, you let him wrap you in a towel as you admit defeat, too tired to argue much more than that. He continues to shrug one of shirts over your shoulders, going as far as drying your hair before finally letting you crawl back under the covers. He joins you soon after, wrapping his limbs around you in a tight embrace, breathing in the mix of his own shampoo and your scent. 
“Are you okay? Did I do too much?” he asks quietly.
“Mhm,” you hum into his chest. “I’m okay.”
There’s a deep vibration in his chest as he finds your lack of response amusing, looking at your face that looks about three seconds away from slipping into dreamland. Nearly, he realizes, as your eyes are suddenly pushed wide open, a gasp leaving your throat. 
“What? What?” Mingyu asks as you sit up all of a sudden scrambling to find your phone. 
“My phone, where is it?” you ask as you ruffle through the covers. 
“Did you bring it with you?” 
You suddenly remember your bag that you threw in his entryway a couple hours ago, your phone nestled inside. Swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, you attempt to stand up to retrieve it, only to find out the universe wasn’t about to let you do that. You don’t miss Mingyu’s chortle as he watches you nearly fall over after wobbling around like a fawn, your arms trembling as you pull yourself up back on the bed. 
“What the fuck?” you breathe out. 
“Get back on, I’ll get your bag for you.” He’s still smiling when returns, throwing your purse on the bed. 
You immediately unlock your phone to find Nayeon’s contact, choosing to leave her a text considering the late hour.
“What is it?” Mingyu asks again as he watches you type, arms coming up from behind to engulf you in his hold again. 
“I told Seokmin I was at Nayeon’s. He didn’t believe me but I’m telling her to cover for me anyway.” 
“Oh.”
The thought comes to you later than it should have, realizing you’d have to involve Seokmin in…whatever this was, sooner or later. 
“Don’t,” you hear Mingyu say behind you.
“What?”
“Don’t. I know what you’re thinking about. We can deal with Seokmin when we need to, don’t think about it right now, that’s my job.” 
“I-”
“He needs to deal with me being serious about you,” he continues, giggling, “Even if I have to make you run away with me.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” 
He brings your wrist up to his mouth, placing a kiss there, “It won’t. I promise.” 
The sitting up thing doesn’t last for too long, both of you wanting nothing more than to lay down for the lack of energy. Limbs are a tangled mess as you both lay in silence, tired but not wanting to go to sleep just yet. It stays that way for a while, head on his chest as you take in the aftermath of everything that’s happened. 
You just had sex with Kim Mingyu. He loves you back. And you know he means it. This isn’t a hyperrealistic childhood fantasy, this is real life. You’re touching him, he’s holding you, you can hear his heart beat, you can feel his skin under the palm of your hand. 
You’re distracted from your thoughts as you sense Mingyu reaching over the edge of the bed to his nightstand as he looks for something, bringing his hand over to show you a very familiar pink cover in his hands. 
“Oh,” you let out as you recognize the title, snorting as you remember where the verdict for that ended, “We were supposed to talk about the ending.”
“We could do that right now.”
“Uh, about that,” you say. “I never actually got to finish it.”
“You were supposed to be done like two weeks ago,” he frowns.
“I didn’t get to finish it the day…the day you came over. Couldn’t bring it in myself to touch it after that.” you say as you note the little tabs sticking out the sides, wanting to address them. 
“You can use this one to finish it then, it’s yours.” 
You glance up at him as he talks, opening the book to skim through the pages. And then you see it, tiny scribbles on margins, sticky notes at chapter ends with his thoughts, colorful tabs sticking out of every highlighted line, everything complete with a color coded key in the front.
“I saw you do it with your other books, found out it’s not actually a crime to write in books and…I guess it became fun.” he explains as he watches you flick through the pages. “I was gonna give this to you at some point. Sounded like a thoughtful idea in my head.”
You don’t answer him, simply facing him in silence before continuing, “I would’ve been sucking your dick right now if I wasn’t so tired.”
He throws his head back in a loud laugh, the high pitched noise sounding across the room as he nearly curls up from the hilarity. You don’t think it was that funny, but maybe it’s because you were telling the truth. You’re pretty sure you’ve joked about wanting to do that to someone who’d do something like this for you, perhaps you could find the transcripts hidden in some text messages with Nayeon later to show Mingyu.
 His laughter is contagious regardless, giggles of your own coming out as you watch him practically lose it. 
“I think you need to go to sleep,” you comment through bouts of laughter. 
He sighs a vocal sigh as he calms down slowly, agreeing with your suggestion that the near morning delirium was getting to both of your heads. You rest your newly acquired, yet equally prized possession to the side, finally turning in for the night as he reaches to turn his night lamp off. 
Mingyu moves to press his forehead into yours, not before placing a tiny peck into your lips as he mumbles against them in the dark, “I love you.”
“I love you,” you hum back as you press your lips together one last time, finally letting his breathing lull you into sleep. 
The mattress is foreign, so is the pillow, and so are the scents that linger in the room. It’s colder than you’d usually have it and the blankets feel different on your skin. And despite the most foreign thing in the room, the one that has his arms and legs wrapped around you, the one that whispered his love for you into your skin before drifting off, you find yourself falling into a sleep that’s more blissful than any you’ve had in a very, very long time. 
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The sun is doing nothing to help itself against the tide of annoyance tht rises in your sleepy state. You’d get up and yank the curtains but can’t bring yourself to have the motivation to leave the soft mattress, simply bunching the blanket up to your face to block out the remnants of sun rays that invade the room. You’ve nearly lulled yourself back to sleep when you start registering noises coming from outside the bedroom walls, muffled yet familiar. 
Your brother is talking about something you can’t make out, Seokmin’s voice is undeniable despite passing through the folded layers of comforters around your head. You don’t doubt the presence of the sweat that’s probably already accumulated on your scalp. 
 There’s nothing that alarms you in the moment despite Seokmin’s yapping — that is until you hear a second voice.
You recognize it immediately as the sound of Mingyu’s talking, the words equally as muffled yet the intonation clear all the same. 
Kicking the sheets off of your overheating body, you squint as you open your eyes in a desperate attempt to reign yourself back to earth, recollections of the past twenty four hours hurtling back to you like a constant line of K.O’s. 
The gallery, the picture, the drive up to Mingyu’s place,the sex, the falling asleep in his arms. You sit up in Mingyu’s bed, clad in nothing but his own T-shirt as you realize your brother is downstairs talking to Mingyu, and you have no idea if he knows you're here. 
You realize very quickly that you’re trapped, being left with no other option than to remain in Mingyu’s bedroom until he comes back up to give you the clear, despite wanting to walk out to take the tiniest peek. You’re not sure what’s worse, getting caught or sitting in the growing pool of anxiety before Mingyu gets back. 
It’s a long, long twenty minutes, in which you’ve done just about everything to get to hear their conversation a bit better; or to distract yourself from the fact that it’s happening at all. Pressing your ear to the door before going back to make the bed. Freshening up in the bathroom before going back to jamming your eye into the keyhole (you aren’t sure why considering door faces a plain wall). You even hijacked a spare cup Mingyu had lying around the room to stick into the wall, hoping all those Mr. Bean cartoons hadn’t been lying to you. 
They were simply talking in a tone too low for your ears to catch (despite the Mr. Bean hack), and you resorted to scrolling on your phone to pass the remaining time. It’s catastrophic to say the least, when you’re met with a string of frantic messages from Nayeon as well as a couple missed calls from your brother. 
[Nayeon]: fuck [Nayeon]: i didnt see this [Nayeon]: he called this morning asking about you  [Nayeon]: i accidentally told him you werent here [Nayeon]: im so sorry where are you  [You]: its okay its my fault for texting so late [You]: i was at mingyus place [You]: ill tell you more later [Nayeon]: WHAT???
By the time Mingyu walks in, he’s mildly surprised to see you awake, pausing at the door as he takes in your huddled form. You sit up immediately, noting his still messy hair and the backwards sweatshirt he’s thrown on over his boxers. The question tumbles out of your lips before you can help it, “Was that Seokmin?”
“Good morning to you too,” he grumbles sarcastically, coming up on the bed to join you in your huddle fest. You’re a little embarrassed at the way you’ve greeted him first thing when he sees you, but his expression when he continues replaces it with something akin to fear. “And yeah, it was him.”
You want to ask him a follow up question, but you aren’t sure what to say, simply staring at him, hoping he’d get the hint and continue by himself. He does. 
“The idiot has a spare key so he just…” He trails off, rubbing his hands on his face,  “he just walked in straight to the room. Got the shock of his life, I suppose, ‘cause it woke me up while you kept snoring.” 
“He walked into the room?!” you nearly screech, hand clamped over mouth, horrified. “What did he say to you?”
Mingyu has the audacity to laugh, simply tugging you back down on the bed to hold you. You briefly wonder how he’s so casual about this. “There’s not really an expected reaction from someone when they find you half naked in bed with their sister.” 
The haphazardly shoved sweatshirt and no pants look was starting to make sense. “I heard you talking downstairs, what were you talking about?” 
“Nothing you have to worry your pretty little head about,” his lips graze the shell of your ear as he snuggles further into you. “He wants you home by seven though.” 
You throw your head back in a whine, “God, what am I gonna do?” 
“You’ll be fine, he didn’t smack me, he can’t possibly be that mad at you.” 
“What was he then, ecstatic?” you retort. 
“I mean,” his energy shifts a little. “I think he’s just a little hurt that he wasn’t told.” 
“So you’ve done your damage control and now I need to pray he doesn’t disown me.” 
“God, you’re being so negative,” he comments and you can’t help but round up on him.
“And you’re acting like you don’t care!”
He’s planting a fat kiss on your cheek at your outburst, coming in to coddle you even more. “I’m kidding, I just want you to relax, don’t be upset.” 
“Has he given you his verdict yet?” you ask quietly.
He sighs at the question and you can’t imagine his answer being any good. “Not yet, pretty up in the air about it.” 
When he sees you deflate even more in his arms, he continues, “I’m sure he’s gonna come around, he loves you too much to not. It’s just a matter of time while he gets to make sense of the situation, don’t worry about it.” 
“I hope so,” you reply.
“We might have wash his socks for the next five years once he does, but it’s okay.” 
You can’t help but snort at the prospect, “His feet are stinkier than the regular human’s, are you sure about that?”
He grins, “I’d do it for you.”
You push his face away, rolling your eyes at his attempt to be sappy. “You’re gonna keep me for five years?” 
His smile drops as you feel the atmosphere shift in the slightest, his presence moving impossibly closer to you. “I’m gonna keep you forever.”
Hearing it is enough to have you lurching forward, closing the final gap between you so you can give in to the urge to kiss him. He’s enthusiastic to give back, pulling your body to face him entirely as you mumble between kisses, “I love you.”
“I love you more.”
The rest of the day (once your anxiety’s calmed down, at least) is spent loitering around each other as you migrate around the house in random excess. He makes you breakfast, and you need to physically restrain him to stop feeding you every bite of pancake and bacon. You let him make your favourite for lunch though, after you finally admitted how much you truly liked his Chow Mein, going as far as to run to the store to grab the stuff he was missing. He returns with a bag of groceries, not missing an abnormal amount of moonpie value packs that he stashes in his cabinets because “you’re gonna be around all the time”. 
6:30 rolls around quicker than either of you would have liked, needing to wiggle out of Mingyu’s hold on his couch to change out of your half naked state. He continues to delay you another ten minutes as he refuses to open his car door to let you walk into the apartment building, leaning over the console to continue mumbling whines between your own consoling kisses. 
By the time you’re making the walk of shame up to your door, the pit of anxiety that began to brew this morning returns from its dormancy, no Mingyu here to help ease your nerves, Gripping your key tight in your hands, you brace yourself to jam and twist to finally end this matter once and for all (at least you hope you can). 
Seokmin is waiting on the couch for arrival like a parent waiting to catch their child in the act. He briefly glances over at you as you whisper a tame “Hi”, slipping off your shoes. He doesn’t reply as he merely grabs the remote to pause his show, casting a heightened awkward atmosphere at the silence that’s now engulfing the room. You tread carefully over to the couch, where Seokmin sits with his arms crossed. 
It takes one look at his face for you to suddenly want to get on your knees and beg for forgiveness. He didn’t look angry, and perhaps you would’ve preferred his aggression if it didn’t mean having to look at a hurt Seokmin. You sit in silence for a couple dramatic minutes, hoping he would start talking so you wouldn’t have to. Yet, when you realize you might have to say something anyway for fear of crushing under the pressure, you find yourself opening your mouth. 
“Are you upset?” Of course, he’s upset, you idiot.
“I just–” he starts, before sighing. “I just wish one of you would’ve told me what was going on.” 
“I know, I’m sorry,” you reply. “I didn’t want either of you to have an excuse to be upset with each other, so I just…”
“I get that it was a recent thing but I think I deserved as much to know what was happening when I wasn’t around.”
You wince as speaks, realizing he hasn’t caught on to the fact that this isn’t recent at all — for you at least. “Um, about that…”
“What? There’s more?” he scoffs. 
“I, uh…I’ve liked him since like fifth grade—” He’s immediately jaw dropped, eyes bulged, taking a sharp breath. “But! In my defense, it was really obvious—it’s honestly your fault for not noticing.”
‘My–My fault?!” he sputters. “That’s like, forever, and you told me nothing? Mingyu told me this was recent, why did he lie?” 
“He didn’t, nothing happened till last night, I swear.” You cringe at what you’re entailing. “It was just me that liked him for that long, he figured it out pretty early on but…”
“He’s finally reciprocating now?” he suggests, almost sarcastically. 
“Yeah,” you breathe out lightly. 
“This is insane,” he blows out a breath of air, massaging his temples. 
“I’m not being stupid about him,” you mutter lowly, “This isn’t some puppy dog crush, especially not after so long.” 
He’s silent. 
“I’m telling you this because I don’t want you to think I’m jumping into this blind, especially for what it means for you too.” 
No response. 
“I’m sorry that you had to find out like this, it’s really not how I wanted it to go.” And when you’re met with even more silence, you find yourself continuing. “Please, talk to me. Cuss me out if you want, I’d honestly rather you yell at me.”
Seokmin sighs for the near hundredth time, finally looking like he might say something. “I want you to listen to me very carefully.”  
The hairs on the back of your neck stand up, mind immediately going to the worst. Was he going to ask you to break up with him?
“I’m gonna choose to trust the both of you on this,” he starts, and you nearly melt into the cushions, “It’s your life, you can date whoever you want. And…I guess Mingyu is better than someone else. Probably uses bad hair gel though.” 
You’re catapulting yourself off the couch at the sound of that, throwing yourself onto an unassuming Seokmin. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” 
“OW! Okay! Geez, get off,” he grumbles as he finally stops wrestling you to let go of him, hugging you back as you squeeze his shoulders tight. 
“I promise I won’t keep anything like this from you again.” 
“You better not,” he huffs as you let go of him, “Don’t think this means you’re forgiven. You still have a lot to tell me.” 
“I promise I won’t leave out a thing.”
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The following weeks are near bliss, following your very loud confrontation with Nayeon when she gets back from her summer vacation, her screams at every plot turn having you praying for her neighbors. You doubt she believed you despite everything, not until she physically sees Mingyu come in one day, making a beeline to peck you on the lips before greeting anyone else. Her dropped jaw was very telling. 
Even now, as Mingyu sports the title of the lame alumnus that still hangs around campus as he grips your hand, walking through the grass, the double takes you’re receiving seem to be traveling quite fast. You wouldn’t necessarily blame them considering the trickier than usual dynamic you sport due to your brother (and you guess due to his reputation as well). 
But you also knew they’d be quick to die out as the newer batches of students come flying in — Mingyu will soon become a very well kept secret, in one way if not the other. 
His neighbors, however, must be wishing he had the same sentiment as well, considering the absolutely foul noises that are coming from his apartment. 
You’re learning very quickly that Mingyu’s innocent touchiness can turn into something of the opposite at any given time, exhibit A being now as you try your damn hardest to muffle the sounds coming out of your mouth as Mingyu works his own mouth on your cunt. The knees over his shoulders are shivering from the expense, fingers pumping into your hole as he rubbed a particular spot with his tongue that had you gripping onto his hair tight. 
As much as Mingyu loves to hear you, you find his other hand being brought up to place two fingers in your mouth for you as the perfect pacifier, sounds limiting extensively. 
By the time you’re coming undone, sprawled on his couch like you just ran a marathon, you’re quick to realize that he has no intention of letting you have a breather. It takes one shove for him to pull his pulsing length out of his pants, tip pushing into your still sopping hole as he invited all of him inside you. 
You’ll never forget the first time Mingyu fucked you raw, right after you told him he had the green light after taking your birth control pills. It was magic, you’ve never seen him this vocal as he finished inside you nearly four times in a single night. His moans remain loud even still, as he brings your thighs to press over your chest, basically folding you in half. The mere sound of your wetness as he pumps in and out of you is enough to have you nearly careening over the edge, especially when you feel a desperate hand reach out to rub fast circles on your clit. 
You throw your head back as you cum for the second time, pulsing around him in a grip Mingyu can’t believe has the ability to become tighter. It’s enough for him though, as he leans his forehead against your chest as he releases himself inside you. 
He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of it, watching you filled to the brim with his cum, even as it drips onto the blankets you’ve laid down below. He has half a mind to stuff the liquid back inside you, but fears you’re tired enough, the overstimulation too much for you. 
By the time you’ve cleaned up and resumed the movie you should’ve been done with hours ago, cuddled impossibly close to him, you find yourself remembering something quite out of the blue.
“Hey, not that I really care anymore,” you start, “But who were the guys you were talking to that day? From the party.”
“Stopped hanging out with them ages ago,” Mingyu scoffs, face souring at the mention of them. “I mean, it was me who said all that bullshit, but they weren’t exactly good influences either. Learned that pretty quick.”
“Oh,” you reply simply, letting your head fall back onto his chest.
He doesn’t seem to be having any of it, grabbing your chin to have you face him. “I’m still really sorry about that. I don’t care if you chase my tail for another fifty years, it’ll always be adorable.”
“Forgave you a long time ago, but I think I have a condition now.” 
He quirks a brow at your words. “What does her Highness ask of me?”
“That you chase my tail for another fifteen to make up for all the running I’ve done.” 
He’s laughing at that, agreeing to your condition as places loving smooches all over your face. “Consider it done.”
It’s later on in the night, both of you huddled in ratty hoodies and mismatched slippers, plastic bag crinkling along Mingyu’s arm as you giggle about something he said. You’re enjoying your fudgsicle in the peace and serenity of the 1 AM hour, making your trek home after raiding the corner store down the block. Mingyu suddenly halts in his tracks as he sees a particularly pretty set of flowers, illuminated by the fluorescent street lights. 
“Babe, babe, stand here let me take a picture of you.”
“What?” you frown, holding up your stick of iced chocolate. “I’m not done yet.”
You watch as he grabs the melting popsicle from your hand downing the entire thing in one go as you watch him, hand still outstretched and jaw dropped. “Mingyu, you bitch!”
He only smiles as he mulls the chocolate in his mouth, words basically gibberish, “‘ere’s more in the ba’, now go stan'!” 
You huff as you trudge to where he was asking you to pose, throwing a couple peace signs to satiate the home video urges in him so you could rip open your second fudgsicle. 
“Wait! You got a little chocolate on your mouth.” he announces, and you stick your tongue out to lick past the remnants of the sweetness. “No— wait.”
He walks over to you as your still trying to find the spot you missed, unassuming as he swings into your face to kiss the remaining off. “Oh, nevermind, it was nothing.” 
You push him off as heat crawls up your face, feigning annoyance at his antics. You decide to forgive him when rips open another fudgsicle for you, offering it with both hands, promising to not steal a single lick. You believe him, snatching the stick from him as you continue your trek home. 
It’s not until he’s attempting to send you the pictures he just took to your phone so you could post them (which, with the way you looked, fat chance) that he notices something in your albums. 
“Oh, are these grad photos?” he asks as he clicks the album open.
“Mhm,” you hum not paying too much attention as you walked and ate. 
“Why’s there only one picture here?” he asks as he pulls up to find nothing more left to load. 
It’s only then that you bring your full attention to your phone in his hand as you realize what picture he’s talking about, “Oh god, don’t look at that one.”
He does the obvious thing and opens it anyway, a louder than necessary “aw” coming out his mouth. “Why do you look like I’m about to eat you?” 
“It felt like it!” you whine, remembering the moment clear as day. “They kept pestering me to take a picture with you too, I was tryna book it out of there at first chance.” 
He giggles as he zooms into the photo, “I’m sending this to myself.”
You groan loudly at the thought, “God, just delete it, leave it alone.”
He tucks the phone into himself further, not letting you grab it. “No, you’re not deleting it. Why do you have it tucked into a separate folder if you hate it so much.”
He’s got you there, you realize quickly, and he reigns in his victory as he watches you grimace at the phone slightly, adding on, “it has a lot of feelings attached to it, I get it. But look, we can attach new feelings to it, now you’ll think about right now the next time you see it.”
“Think about you hijacking my fudgsicles? I think I prefer heartbreak,” you say, bringing your half eaten pop closer to your body in case he tries anything. 
You’re deemed correct when he replies, motioning towards your concealed treat, “Careful, I can still pounce when you’re not looking.” 
Shoving your hands into the swinging bag hanging on Mingyu’s arm, you bring out a thing of sausage and shove it towards him, “You leave me and my fudgsicle alone, go be lousy and suck on this or whatever.”
“You’d know alot about that, wouldn’t you?” he notes casually, grabbing the sausage anyway as he unwraps it to take a bite. 
It takes you a second to realize what he’s talking about while he stares at you with a mischievous expression, coming to shove him when the innuendo finally registers in your head. You do the opposite this time, pointing the melting chocolate toward him instead, threatening to smear it all over his white hoodie. 
He laughs at the sight, disarming you by simply moving your wrist away, coming to kiss you on the mouth hard regardless of your annoyed expression. 
“Love ya’” he giggles. 
“Hm.”
“What, hm? Say it back.”
You pretend to wonder, “I don’t think so.”
“Say it!” he groans, “Say it, say it!” 
You manage to wriggle out of his hold, booking it before he realises what’s happening. 
“Hey!” 
Your both probably waking up the entire neighborhood with how loud you’re yelling and laughing, and even when he manages to tackle you down on somebody’s lawn, coaxing the words out of you with borderline violence, you still manage to smile, thanking your lucky stars that you got what you wanted after all. 
“What’re you thinking about?” he asks with an undertone. 
“Thanking my stars they led me to you,” you reply. 
“More like the other way around. Needed the fattest fucking star to realize what was in front of me all along,” he jests himself. 
It sparks a laugh out of you. “I love you.”
“And I love you.”
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psychoticfemmm · 22 days ago
Text
movies and missed kisses
pairing: peter parker x stark!reader
summary: A playful tease turns into an argument, forcing Peter to confront how much he truly cares about you. The chaos of Avengers Tower ensures nothing stays private for long.
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It wasn’t supposed to turn into an argument.
One minute, you were teasing Peter about bailing on yet another movie night, and the next, you were snapping at him from your spot on the couch in the lounge of Avengers Tower.
“Are you kidding me right now, Peter?” You crossed your arms, glaring at him as he stood awkwardly in front of you. “You’ve bailed, like, six times this month. Six! What—do you just not care about seeing me anymore?”
Peter groaned, dragging a hand through his messy brown hair. “It’s not like that! I told you—stuff just comes up sometimes!”
You rolled your eyes. “Stuff, huh? Like what?”
Peter froze, clearly realizing his mistake. You already knew he was Spider-Man—being Tony Stark’s daughter meant there wasn’t much that got past you. But that didn’t mean you were going to make this easy on him.
“Let me guess,” you said sarcastically, tilting your head. “You tripped and fell into saving a bunch of people, right?”
Peter’s cheeks flushed, his eyes darting around like he was searching for an escape. “Well… I mean… Technically, yeah?”
You scoffed, standing up and brushing past him. “You’re impossible.”
Peter caught your wrist gently, spinning you back toward him. “(Y/N), come on,” he said softly. “You know it’s not like that. You know I care about you. A lot.”
Your glare softened slightly, but you weren’t letting him off the hook yet. “Then stop bailing on me. I don’t care if you’re Spider-Man. If you want to keep seeing me, you have to show up, Peter.”
Peter swallowed hard, his brown eyes locking onto yours. “I do want to keep seeing you. I’m crazy about you. And if I could explain it all without sounding like an idiot, I would.”
You narrowed your eyes at him. “You are an idiot.”
“Yeah,” he breathed, stepping closer, his voice dropping a little. “But I’m your idiot.”
You wanted to stay mad. You really did. But when Peter Parker gave you that soft, boyish smile, all your frustration melted just a little.
“Don’t think you can just charm your way out of this,” you muttered, though you made no move to pull away when he stepped even closer.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Peter murmured, his hands settling lightly on your waist as his forehead touched yours.
“Peter…” you whispered, your voice losing its edge.
“Hmm?”
“I’m still mad at you.”
“Yeah?” His breath brushed your lips as he smiled. “Doesn’t seem like it.”
You opened your mouth to retort, but Peter cut you off by kissing you. It was soft at first—gentle and hesitant, as if he was afraid you might shove him away. But when you kissed him back, threading your fingers into his hair, he deepened the kiss, pulling you flush against him.
His hands slid to your lower back as he pressed you against the nearby wall, his lips moving with yours like he’d been waiting for this moment forever.
You sighed into the kiss, your earlier anger completely forgotten as your heart raced in your chest. Peter’s lips trailed to your jaw, brushing over your skin as you tilted your head to give him better access.
“Still mad?” he mumbled between kisses, his voice low and teasing.
“Maybe,” you breathed, though the way your hands clung to his shoulders said otherwise.
Peter grinned, leaning back to look at you. “Liar.”
You were about to pull him in for another kiss when—
“Hey!”
Both of you froze. Peter practically jumped back from you like he’d been electrocuted, and you turned your head to see none other than your dad—Tony Stark—standing in the doorway with a look of pure exasperation on his face.
“Oh, come on!” Tony groaned, throwing his hands in the air. “In my tower? Against my wall? Have you two ever heard of personal space?”
“Mr. Stark—uh—I can explain!” Peter stammered, his face a shade of red you didn’t think was humanly possible.
“Explain what?” Tony deadpanned. “That you’ve got your sticky Spider-fingers all over my daughter?”
“DAD!” you snapped, your own face burning as you shoved Peter toward the other side of the room.
Tony raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying this far too much. “Relax, kid. Just don’t let me catch you swapping spit in mylounge again. And definitely not when the rest of the team is—”
“Oh my God.”
You groaned as Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff appeared behind Tony, both looking far too amused by the situation.
Natasha smirked, leaning casually against the wall. “Don’t let us interrupt. Looks like you two were having a moment.”
Peter groaned softly, covering his face with his hands. “Please kill me now.”
Steve chuckled, clapping Tony on the shoulder. “Come on, Stark. Give the kids a break.”
“Fine, fine,” Tony muttered, but not before shooting Peter a warning look. “Spider-Boy, you keep your hands where I can see them from now on. Got it?”
“Y-Yes, sir!” Peter stammered, practically vibrating with embarrassment.
Tony turned and left the room, muttering something about “unbelievable teenagers” as Steve and Natasha followed, both still grinning.
As soon as they were gone, Peter turned to you, wide-eyed and mortified. “I’m never coming back here again.”
You laughed, stepping closer and brushing your fingers along his jaw. “Oh, come on. That wasn’t that bad.”
Peter gaped at you. “Not that bad?! Your dad just caught us—”
You cut him off with a kiss, soft and slow, until you felt him relax against you. When you pulled back, you smirked. “Still want to bail on our movie nights?”
Peter smiled sheepishly, resting his forehead against yours. “Never again. I swear.”
“Good,” you whispered, tugging him down for another kiss.
And this time, you made sure to lock the door.
⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅
bring back Peter Parker fics we all say In unison.
I take requests𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚
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stllmnstr · 3 months ago
Text
all the things I never said
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pairing: lee heeseung x f reader
genre: childhood friends to lovers
word count: 7.3k
warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, heeseung is so romantic I want to die a little, a kiss that gets quite heated, this is very much unedited
note: happy (almost) Heeseung day! I hope you enjoy this little romantic take on childhood friends to lovers ♡
⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖
Lee Heeseung has a secret.
It’s scribbled on a forgotten note, tucked away in a bottom drawer, carved with a shaky hand into the aging wood of his childhood treehouse. 
Sometimes, on cloudless nights, he looks up at the stars and tells them what he’s been hiding for so long. In response, the midnight sky twinkles in a way that looks all too much like laughter. 
On afternoons in late autumn, Heeseung whispers the truth to the wind and watches as it’s carried away with an array of dead leaves. 
A million little gestures. A thousand tiny moments that are inconsequential on their own. But when pieced together, string a story so obvious he’s not sure if his heart could ever handle it. 
But he’s not sure what would happen, if he shouted at the top of his lungs instead of confiding the world around him in hushed whispers. 
He’s a firm believer in balance and is terribly afraid that letting words drip from his tongue would only spell disaster.
So for now, he lets Mother Nature serve as his only confidant and hopes that she’ll keep her vows of silence.
There was a time, not all too long ago, when his secret wasn’t, well, a secret. When he used to speak freely and honestly without a fear of the future, without anxiety of repercussions.
But all secrets have their reasons, and all stories have a beginning.
For Heeseung, both begin on a rather ordinary afternoon in early summer nearly twelve years ago. 
Heeseung’s right palm is annoyingly sweaty. So much so that the shaky grip on his pencil is in danger of being lost. 
Half of his attention is directed towards the front of the classroom, where his fourth grade teacher reiterates the guidelines for the upcoming solar system project.
The other half is trained directly on the small white note currently clutched between Mina’s fingers. 
Even at nine, Heeseung knows she’s a terrible gossip that can’t be trusted. Just earlier today, she spent all of morning recess hounding poor Jake about his supposed crush on her best friend. She was unrelenting, no matter how fervently Jake denied the accusation or how crimson his cheekbones turned.
Unfortunately for Heeseung, she also sits directly between you and him. A particular stroke of cruelty on Mrs. Kim’s part, in Heeseung’s opinion, but the desk arrangement of his fourth grade classroom is the least for his worries at this point.
He swallows. A bead of sweat forms at the edge of his hairline. Late May has tumbled into his hometown with an unseasonable warmth, but that’s not the reason for his perspiration this afternoon.  
With an audible swallow, he locates the paper in his peripheral vision. 
Still clutched between Mina’s fingers. 
Mrs. Kim has turned her back at least three times since he handed the note off with very clear directions about who to give it to. There’s no reason Mina should still be turning it over between her sticky fingers.
Unless…
No. Heeseung won’t assume the worst. Not when it took him nearly the entire school year to work up the courage. 
With one final repetition of the project due date, Mrs. Kim slides off of her chair at the front of the room and walks to her desk tucked away in the opposite corner.
Heeseung’s heart skips a beat.
It’s the perfect opportunity, a golden window.
He glances at Mina, half terrified, half excited.
This is it. The moment he’s been waiting for. The moment he’s been mustering up courage for over the past six months. 
He’s doing it. It’s happening. It’s really happening.
And then, all at once, his excitement starts to transform. Starts to turn into dread before it morphs into worry. 
“Uh, Mrs. Kim?” It’s Mina’s voice. And Heeseung knew she liked to spread rumors, but he didn’t think that would extend to their teacher. 
Heeseung is panicking, trying to figure out a way to save face, to avoid the detention that is sure to come with the classroom crime of passing notes. 
Mrs. Kim looks up from her desk. Heeseung thinks he might pass out.
But then Mina says, “I don’t think ___ feels too good.”
For a moment, Heeseung basks in the relief of not having his secrets spilled in the middle of silent work time. But then, the words register. Form meaning in his mind. 
The loud screech of metal against linoleum rings out like a gunshot in the otherwise quiet classroom. Heeseung stands up from his seat with a ridiculous speech. It’s a miracle he didn’t know anything off his desk. And he didn’t mean to, not really, but he couldn’t see you around Mina sitting down.
At first glance, her appraisal seems to be correct. You’re pale, terribly so, and shaking slightly where you sit in your seat. 
Heeseung doesn’t realize his mistake until Mrs. Kim turns to look at him with a raised eyebrow and most of the class does the same. 
In the back corner, Jake and Sunghoon share a meaningful glance.
“Uh,” Heeseung stammers, “Sorry.” Red faced, he takes his seat again. This time, he’s more covert as he turns his gaze back to you. 
Mrs. Kim approaches your desk quickly. “Hi, Sweetie,” she greets in that voice she has reserved for scraped knees and other ailments. “Are you feeling okay?”
You shake your head. It’s a minuscule movement that Heeseung tracks intensely. 
Mrs. Kim lays a gentle hand across your forehead. “You’re burning up.” She frowns. “Why don’t you head down to the nurse? I’ll let her know you’re on your way.”
Again, you say nothing. The only response you give is a small nod as you gather the materials sprawled across your desk.
Heeseung watches, a little pathetically, as you place them carefully in your cubby before leaving through the door.
You do turn to look at him, just before you exit. When you find his eyes already trained on you, you give him a small smile.
Heeseung’s heart clenches. Whether in fear or anxiety or the same funny feeling that made him spill his heart in the note, he’s not entirely sure.
And then you’re gone. Heeseung makes a mental note to check in with you later, ride his bike the short distance between your neighborhoods and knock on your front door. Your mother is no stranger to his appearances at this point, after all. He won’t bug you, not if you’re resting. But he’ll check in on you, maybe bring you some tea or soup or flowers or whatever else grown ups always say is supposed to make you feel better when you’re sick. 
He’s so caught up in his sudden afternoon plans that he almost forgets the paper, the note, still sitting between Mina’s fingers. 
Oh well.
He’ll have to try another day, he supposes. It’s not fair to put anything else on your plate when you’re not feeling well.
Heeseung shifts in his seat, turns to ask Mina to just give him the note back. To his horror, she’s already begun to undo his careful folding. The kind of edges only someone who spends long afternoons doing origami with his grandmother could manage. 
“What are you doing?” Heeseung hisses, trying to shout without breaking a whisper.
Mina pays him no mind, swats the air like he’s nothing more than a buzzing fly. 
“Stop,” Heeseung pleads, “That’s not for y–”
But Mina doesn’t care. Much to his horror, she unfolds the note entirely, leaves it tucked discreetly beneath her desk.
Sparing one final glance at Mrs. Kim, she confirms that her attention is elsewhere. And then she reads it.
It’s unmistakable, the way her eyes scan over words that were never meant for her.
Heeseung has half a mind to cause another scene, stand up out of his seat again and snatch the note from her, detention be damned.
But it’s too late. The damage is done.
Mina turns to face him fully, a quizzical look pulling her brow downwards. She stares at him, eyes narrowed, appraising, as if this is the first time she’s seen him. 
And then she folds the note back up, tucks it away underneath her notebook. 
A million awful scenarios flash through Heeseung’s mind. Mina making copies of the note and distributing them to the entire class. Mina taking the note to Mrs. Kim and ratting him out. Mina making sure the entire school is privy to Heeseung’s secret before the day is done.
But in the end, he doesn’t need to worry about any of that. After an agonizing stretch of silent work time where Heeseung gets absolutely nothing done, Mina finds him outside the classroom at the water fountain. 
Heeseung is in the middle of downing a near concerning amount of lukewarm fountain water when she walks up next to him.
Lifting his head, Heeseung wipes the spare drops from his mouth.
“Here,” Mina hands him the note. She tried to fold it back up, but it was clearly done with inexperienced hands. The lines are no longer crisp, the edges no longer sharp. His work has been tainted.
“I…” Heeseung starts. Should he thank her? Beg her not to tell anyone? Plead with her not to tell you? 
Ultimately, he doesn’t need to. Mina cuts him off before he can get another word out.
“Don’t worry. I’m not gonna tell anyone.”
Heeseung will believe it when he sees it, but maybe, just maybe, Mina will actually keep a secret to herself this time. 
Heeseung exhales a sigh of relief, tension draining from his shoulders. The victory is short lived.
“You shouldn’t give that to her, though.”
Heeseung balks, freezing for a moment. “What?”
“That note.” Mina nods towards the item in question, clutched between Heeseung’s white knuckles. “Don’t give it to ___.”
Heeseung’s brow furrows. He can’t decide whether he should be angry or confused. This was never meant to be something for Mina to pass judgment on. If he wanted her two cents, he would have asked. 
Still, he asks, “Why?”
Mina sighs, looks at him like he’s an orphaned panda in the local zoo. “Because she likes Jay, not you. Everyone knows about it. She gave him a Kit Kat on Valentine’s Day when everyone else just got a Hershey Kiss, and everyone knows that Kit Kats are better. Plus, she–”
Heeseung doesn’t hear the rest of it. It’s as if he’s suddenly been submerged in icy water. Frozen in his body as the world around him is muffled to a dull, indecipherable hum. His heart drops to his stomach; the world spins on its axis.
Jay. 
Jay?
Jay?
Heeseung likes Jay. He’s smart and kind and can play the guitar, which Heeseung can’t deny is incredibly cool. Too cool. So, painfully cool, and you must think so too. 
Heeseung wants to cry a little bit. Wants to scream. Wants to eat his feelings and his words and his incomplete confession until there’s nothing left of them and this whole terrible day is nothing but a faded, forgotten memory. 
Instead, he turns away from Mina mid-sentence and takes robotic steps back into the classroom. Slides down into his seat like he’s in a trance. Finished out the school day with his head in the clouds.
You don’t return to class. Heeseung assumes that you went home straight from the nurse’s office. 
And when Mrs. Kim catches him at the door and asks if he’d be willing to bring your backpack to you, all he can do is give a miserable, dejected nod. 
Mrs. Kim has the tact to not say anything, but she does notice. Especially since he’s usually jumping out of his seat at the opportunity to do anything remotely revolving you. 
She watches with a frown as he exits through the classroom door, head hung and shoulders slumped. Your backpack dangling uselessly between his fingers. 
The air outside is warm, uncharacteristically so for late May. But now it’s choking with something too. A humidity that clings to skin and feels foreboding, especially with the way clouds begin to gather overhead. 
Heeseung is halfway to your house when the rain begins. It’s thick, heavy, unforgiving in the way summer showers always are. 
When he dismounts his bike at the edge of your driveway, he’s in such a hurry to get your things to you before they’re soaked through that he doesn't notice the small, white paper that falls out of his pocket with the motion. 
Just as he predicted, your mother greets him at the door. She’s thankful for your school things and mildly horrified at the dripping wet child on her doorstep. She offers him a towel and a ride home in her car, both of which Heeseung declines politely. 
By the time he finishes the ride home, he is well and truly soaked. He’s grateful, at least, for the way rain disguised the singular tear track that stains his left cheek.
And later than night, dry and warm and alone, he lets one more tear fall. Laying against his pillow, it’s warm where it gathers in the corner of his eye, salty as it breaches the barrier of his top lip.
And then he makes a decision. Despair will do him no good, and it’s not like anything has changed, not really. 
It’s you that he values, your presence and your friendship and your smiles. He won’t lose those things, even if you save all your Kit Kats for Jay. Even if he has to banish the butterflies in his stomach and hope they don’t escape. Even if he has to pretend his heart doesn’t hurt a little every time he looks at you. 
But summer is coming soon and his year in fourth grade is nearly done. There are lots of things to look forward to, and you’ll still be just a short bike ride away. Even if your heart suddenly feels unreachable.
When Heeseung falls asleep that night, his sleep is dreamless and undisturbed.
And a handful of neighborhoods away, a small white piece of paper sinks to the bottom of a puddle. Soaked from the rain and worse for wear, the careful writing is nearly unintelligible. 
But if someone wanted to, if they really tried, they just might be able to make out the message. 
Dear ___, it reads.
I think you have the prettiest smile I’ve ever seen. I like the way your hair looks in the sun, and I’m glad we’re in the same class. I couldn’t decide how to tell you, so I think I’ll just write it here. I like you. I think you’re pretty and smart and nice and I like you a lot. Can I buy you ice cream at the shop at the end of your street? We can eat it together. :)
Sinceerly,
Sincerely,
Heeseung
…..
The early afternoon sun glints off the ocean in a way that’s almost blinding. Seated on a faded beach towel that’s more sand than fabric at this point, Heeseung readjusts his sunglasses. They sit on the bridge of his nose and do less to shield his wandering gaze than he thinks. 
He reaches for the tote bag a few feet away from him, hands in search of the extra strength sunscreen his mom packed two bottles of and reminded him no less than fifty times to reapply. Heeseung figures now’s as good a time as any to follow her instructions. He’s half afraid she’ll actually wring his neck if he comes back sunburnt with his first day of eighth grade just around the corner. 
Besides, the current object of his attention is down at the water’s edge. Heeseung thanks his lucky stars you’re too preoccupied with searching for seashells to watch as he slathers a ridiculously high SPF sunscreen all over his face.
Early August has been milder than late July, but the air is still heavy with a heat that’s almost oppressive. He has half a mind to join you in the water for a reprieve from the weather if nothing else. 
Despite himself, Heeseung’s eyes never stray far from you. Disaster of a fourth-grade confession aside, he likes to think he’s done a decent job of keeping his feelings close to his chest. Not that they’ve ever changed much, to be honest. 
He’s old enough now, far enough into the painfully awkward clutches of puberty to put more words to the way his heart always feels a little funny whenever you’re near. 
He has a crush. 
A high school, sweaty palm, awkward conversations at your locker between periods crush. 
But Heeseung is a master of disguise and this is no exception. For the last six years, he’s held up his side of your steady friendship with nothing outside the realm of platonic. 
Even if his gaze always tends to linger a little too long, even if he spends most of every middle school dance standing on the sidelines imaging you asking him to join you, even if he never has quite been able to look at Jay the same way, he’s happy to be your friend. Content in the comfortable routines between the two of you. The easy kind of closeness that comes with growing up with someone. 
For better or for worse, he knows you like the back of his hand. And you know him just as well. Besides the one secret he never can quite bring himself to divulge, that is. 
On a towel a few feet away, Sunghoon glances at Heeseung. Follows his gaze and is less than surprised to find that his lovesick puppy eyes are trained squarely on your shoulders. 
Sunghoon nudges Jake, wordlessly gesturing to Heeseung with a jerk of his chin. Jake follows the movement, traces the same line of sight Sunghoon noticed just moments ago. 
The two boys share a look and then an eye roll. 
It’s been the same old story since their shared days in Mrs. Kim’s fourth grade class, and Sunghoon is growing weary of witnessing this same old song and dance never reach any kind of conclusion. 
Sunghoon clears his throat. Heeseung doesn’t notice. 
A bit louder this time, Sunghoon says, “Hey, Heeseung.”
That finally gets his attention, even if it does take him a comically long time to take his eyes off of you. “Yeah?”
“You could, oh, I don’t know, just talk to her, you know.” 
“What?” Sunghoon can’t tell if his confusion is genuine or if he’s suddenly become a fantastic actor. “Who?”
“Is that a joke? ___. Who else?”
Heeseung’s brow furrows. “___?” He echoes. “I talk to her all the time. I invited her today.”
“Yeah, okay, but I mean really talk to her.”
“I don’t know how you think we communicate, but I did ‘really talk to her’ when I asked if she wanted to come to the beach t–”
Jake sighs. He’s not sure how much more of this he can take. “He’s saying you should tell her that you like her, idiot.” 
“What?” Heeseung splutters. “I don’t… I don’t like ____,” he insists in a way that is not at all convincing. 
“Right,” Sunghoon nods. “And I’m going to pass algebra with an A next semester.”
“We’re friends.” Despite himself, Heeseung glances at you again out of the corner of his eye. His stomach gives a very unfriendly flip, but the two boys next to him don’t need to know that. 
“I don’t get why you’re still so weird about it.” Sunghoon shakes his head. “You’ve literally been obsessed with her since, like, fourth grade.”
“Yeah,” Jake nods. “Remember that day she got sick in class and he nearly knocked his chair over because he stood up so fast—”
“I was worried about my friend,” Heeseung insists, desperate to change the topic. That day is a particularly sore memory for more than one reason. “I would have done the same for either of you.” 
“Uh, no thanks.” Sunghoon shakes his head. 
“I’ll pass too,” Jake agrees. “You can save all that lovesick shit for—” 
“Lovesick?” a voice interrupts. “Who’s lovesick?” 
Three sets of eyes turn to you, two colored in mild humor and one tinged with abject horror. 
Sunghoon reaches over with devious intent in his grin. Patting Heeseung on the shoulder, he responds, “Well, your friend Heeseung here—”
“Heard Jungwon talking about a new girl he met this summer.” Heeseung interjects desperately, pausing only to send his two friends a withering glare. “I guess he’s super into her.”
“Oh, really?” Oblivious to the sighs of frustration Sunghoon and Jake exchange, you slide down in the seat next to Heeseung. “Good for him. Between school and dance and taekwondo, I thought he’d always be too busy to meet someone.” 
Nudging the boy next to you, you add, “Kinda like someone else I know. I’m surprised you had time for the beach today with basketball starting so soon.”
In all honesty, he doesn’t. Heeseung should be at the court near his house right now, practicing layups. At the very least, he should be going for a run or getting some pre-season cardio in. 
But you’ve been mentioning wanting to go on one last trip to the beach before the school year starts for weeks now, and Heeseung has never been good at denying you much. Well, other than access to his real feelings, that is. 
Feigning a nonchalance he doesn’t feel, Heeseung shrugs. “I can take a day off every now and then.” 
“Oh, really?” You arch a brow. Because I heard that a certain someone asked you to the movies last week and you said you were too busy,”
For you. Heeseung should have clarified. I can take a day off for you.  
“What?” Sunghoon pipes up. “Who?”
“No one,” Heeseung grumbles. 
Rolling your eyes, you lean over him, angling your face towards Sunghoon conspiratorially. “Her name rhymes with Schmarina.”
“Dude!” This time, it’s Jake who slaps him on the shoulder. “Karina asked you out and you said no? Are you stupid?”
“No,” Heeseung protests. “She didn’t even ask me out. It wasn’t like that.”
“Mhmm.” Sarcasm drips from your voice. “That’s not what Mina said.”
That absolute gossip. “RIght, because you can always trust what Mina says.”
“Sunoo confirmed it too.”
“He’s just as bad!”
“Okay, okay.” You raise your hands in mock surrender. “I’ll drop it. But if she does ever ask you out, I think you should say yes.”
Heeseung forces his features into neutrality. Tries to conceal the fact that your words feel a little bit like a thousand knives stabbing him right in the heart. Ends up looking a little bit constipated. 
“Don’t look at me like that,” you admonish. “She’s really sweet.”
Heeseung’s sure she is. He just doesn’t care. Karina could be the kindest, nicest, sweetest girl on planet earth and he would still find a reason to let her down gently. But he can’t exactly tell you that, not when it would only lead to more questions that he is not ready to answer. 
Instead, he just shrugs again. A non response. A hopeful end to the conversation. 
Luckily, you take his silence as a sign to divert, even if Jake and Sunghoon are still sitting flabbergasted right next to the two of you. 
“Speaking of basketball,” you redirect the subject. “I heard that East High’s team is supposed to be really strong this year.” They’re your high school’s biggest rival and the primary reason Heeseung spends so much of his free time on the court. They’re also the reason his coach is already giving speeches about the importance of winning this year’s opening game. 
“I figured you might need a little extra luck.”
Sunghoon chokes on a laugh. “C’mon, ____. Cut him some slack. He’s not that bad at basketball.”
“What?” You frown. “No, that’s not what I meant.” Turning back to Heeseung, you clarify. “I promise it’s not. I know you’re, like, insanely good. I just…” You trail off. Heeseung is too busy trying not to explode from the compliment to notice the way your cheeks go slightly pink. “I just saw this when I was down at the water.”
Hastily, you shove your outstretched palm beneath his nose. Encased in your hand is a fully intact, unblemished, perfectly round sand dollar. “It’s supposed to be good luck to find them unbroken,” you explain. “It made me think of you. Uh, I mean, of basketball,” you’re quick to amend. 
“Right,” Heeseung can barely hear you over the thrumming of his heartbeat in his ears. “For basketball.”
“For basketball,” you nod. 
But when his fingers accidentally brush the skin of your palm as he accepts your good luck charm, basketball is the last thing on his mind. 
And when he tucks the sand dollar into the bottom drawer of his dresser for safekeeping later that night, he finally lets the giant, unrestrained smile he’s been holding in all day take over his entire face. 
…..
Heeseung’s head is spinning. 
And maybe it’s the late summer heat or dregs of the too sweet wine cooler that are getting to him. But neither of those have the ability to fuck with him as much of the sight of you in a sundress does. 
A sundress. A real, proper, flowy, honest to god sundress. 
Heeseung doesn’t think he’s ever felt more insane in his life. 
It doesn’t help that this is the first time he’s seen you in months. Going from classmates to students at different universities has been a difficult transition to say the least. But your friendship has weathered a lot, and this is no exception. 
It doesn’t matter that the thoughts Heeseung is having right now are very much not friendly. He’s been dealing with those for the better part of a decade too. 
But it feels different tonight. 
You’re older. He’s older. The two of you have grown and changed and matured and the feelings he harbors have started to feel a little less like a crush. 
And a lot more like something with far more devastating consequences. 
You’ve always been pretty. The prettiest girl in the world in his eyes. 
But tonight, in the fading glow of another late sunset, looking at you is almost painful. 
Heeseung wishes for a lot of things. He wishes it was just the two of you here. Mostly because he can see Sunghoon and Jake making vulgar gestures in the background every time his gaze lingers on you a little too long. And that happens a lot. 
He wishes that he was a better friend. That he could give you the support and undivided attention and platonic love that you deserve. That he wasn’t always keeping it guarded behind his fear of revealing too much. Of ruining the best relationship he’s even built in his nineteen years of life. 
And sometimes, in his weaker moments, he wishes that he could go back to the fourth grade. He would tell Mina to give her opinion to someone that asked for it and give you that letter. He wonders if things would be different. How they would be different. 
In his favorite dreams, you returned his feelings, even back then. The two of you grew up skirting that line the way teenagers do. And then, when you were ready, it turned into something real. Something honest. Something he doesn’t have to hide. 
But in his moments of fear, Mina was right. Your attention was somewhere else and his note becomes nothing but an embarrassing memory. Something the two of you never overcome. Something that prevents you from forming friendship at all. 
That, Heeseung decides, no matter how much he might sometimes wish thing were different, will never be worth the risk. 
So he does what he always does. He keeps his feelings close to his chest and nurses another warm beer along with a wounded heart. 
Across the yard, Heeseung watches you laugh at something Jay says. It’s real laugh, the kind that makes your eyes twinkle and makes his head spin. 
Jay. He can’t help the way his grip tightens against the bottle in his hand. Who even invited him tonight? 
It’s not like anything ever came of Mina’s prediction. As far as he knows, you’ve never so much as given Jay another Kit Kat. But the sight of the two of you together still has an ugly green monster rearing its head. 
Eventually, the evening, as all evenings do, starts to draw to its inevitable end. 
You catch Heeseung’s eye across the yard just as everyone is bidding their farewells. Silently, you jerk your chin, motioning him over. 
Putty in your grip, Heeseung complies with no trace of resistance. 
When he finally reaches you, you don’t offer much of an explanation. Instead, you just motion for him to follow you again. 
“For old time’s sake,” is all you say. 
But it’s not much of a hint. After all, the two of you have memories scattered across this entire city. Tucked in alleys and street corners and shops. Safekept in all of your favorite childhood destinations. Forged in Heeseung’s memory. 
Finally, the two of you reach the edge of a small stretch of forest. A place the two of you used to visit whenever the rest of the world just felt like a little too much to bear. A place where you discovered the small treehouse you lead him to now. 
Wordlessly, you outstretch your hand, encasing his grip in your own. Heeseung has already begun to lose remnants of his boyhood. His features are losing their youthful roundess, are sharpening into a face that unmistakably belongs to a man. 
But with his hand in yours, he feels nine again. Nursing the unsteady heartbeat and sweaty palms that come with a first crush. 
When the two of you finally reach the top of the ladder, you ease your way through the opening first. 
You’ve nearly outgrown this place. The two of you have to hunch slightly to avoid hitting the roof with your heads. 
“Remember coming here that day my cat ran away?” You’re not looking at him, gaze wandering around the space, collecting memories like souvenirs. 
“Mr. Mittens,” Heeseung nods. “How could I forget?” 
“I still think he’s out there somewhere. He couldn’t forgive my dad when he stopped giving him table scraps.” Your tone is light, teasing. 
But the space is small and it leaves no choice but for the two of you to sit close. So close. Too close. Not nearly close enough. 
Still, Heeseung does his best to maintain his composure. “Mm,” he agrees. “I’m sure he’s very happy now. Probably eating leftovers as we speak.”
The conversation drifts into silence. It’s not uncomfortable, but it is charged. Fraught with something Heeseung’s been trying to ignore for the last ten years. 
“Heeseung?” Your voice is small. He feels it as much as he hears it. 
“Yeah?” He doesn’t mean to sound so breathless, but he can’t help it. Not here. Not now.
“I missed you.” 
For a moment, it’s all he can do to stare at you. He missed you too. So much it hurt. But it feels like he’s been missing you for years now. Missing something he’s never allowed himself to ask for. 
“I mean, I knew I would.” You drop your gaze now, toying with the hem of your dress. “And I know we still texted and called a lot, but there were so many times when I just wished you were there with me, you know?”
He does. He does. 
“Yeah,” Heeseung nods, jaw working. He swallows hard. His voice sounds scraped raw. “I felt the exact same.”
You meet his gaze again. Hold it for a moment. And then another. Heeseung watches as your lips part, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. 
For a second, he thinks you’re about to say something else. But then you shake your head. It’s a tiny movement, barely perceptible. But he sees it. He always does. 
Diverting the subject, you ease some of the tension. “Do you have anything sharp?”
“Sharp?” he echoes. “I don’t think so. Why?”
Instead of explaining, you reach for a rock next to your knee. Holding it up, you grin at him. “This should work.”
Scooting closer to the interior wall of the treehouse, you begin your handiwork. After a couple of minutes, you sit back on your heels, satisfied. 
“What do you think?” You turn over your shoulder to glance at him. 
Heeseung thinks a lot of things. He thinks you’ve never looked more beautiful than you do in this very moment, this exact second. He thinks his heart might actually be beating loud enough for it to be audible. He thinks he’s not going to survive another semester away from you. 
He thinks he might be in love. 
And when his eyes settle on the wall over your shoulder, he knows he is. 
Because there, in the respite of your childhood treehouse, you’ve carved both of your initials into the wood and framed them with a slightly lopsided heart. 
It’s messy. It’s imperfect. It’s his favorite thing he’s ever seen. Well, he amends as his gaze slides back to you, it’s his second favorite, maybe. 
“It’s perfect,” he tells you. 
A handful of minutes later, when you find yourself approaching his doorstep, Heeseung notices the way you suppress a shiver against the slight chill of the gentle night time breeze. For him, it’s the most natural thing in the world to offer you a sweatshirt. Something to keep you warm while he walks you home. 
You’re no stranger to the inside of his bedroom, but Heeseung’s heart still jumps regardless. It’s so intimate, the way you navigate his space like it’s your own. The way you sit down on the edge of his bed without thinking anything of it. 
“Bottom drawer,” Heeseung nods towards his dresser. He rearranged while packing for his dorm. “I have a few sweatshirts in there. You can take any of them.”
Nodding, you stand from his bed, quiet footsteps tracing a path over to the dresser. But when you open the bottom drawer a moment later, it’s not a sweatshirt you hold in your hands. 
“You still have this?” There’s a bit of wonder in your voice. A soft edge that Heeseung would read more into if he wasn’t suddenly panicking. 
It’s the sand dollar, he realizes. The one you gave him all those years ago. A good luck charm. Stupid, how could he be so stupid to forget that he left it in that drawer too? 
It’s not damning evidence of anything, not really. But it’s late and he’s tired and you’re still in that fucking dress. Logic was never going to be anything but a losing game. 
“Of course,” Heeseung admits. “We won every game that season.” 
You know. You were there to watch all of them. 
“Heeseung?” Something in your tone has all of his attention zeroing in on you. Maybe it’s the strange stroke of timidness. Maybe it’s the fact that you’ve always commanded his focus, even when you’re not trying. 
“Yeah?” That breathlessness is back. Heeseung can’t find it in himself to curse it. 
You’re still standing across the room from him. The sand dollar enclosed in your gentle grip. When you finally tear your gaze away from it, it’s to look Heeseung in the eye. 
“Can I…?” You’re unsure. Shy. Heeseung has seen a whole lot of you, but he has no idea what to do with this. 
“Can I try something?” Your teeth are worrying at your bottom lip like the words taste bitter. Like you can’t decide whether you regret them or not. 
Heeseung would give you the world if you asked for it, but he knows better. 
He’ll play his cards the same way he always has. 
“Try what?”
You don’t answer him. Not with words, at least. 
Instead, you begin to trace a steady path towards him. The sand dollar is still in your hand. Heeseung’s heart is still in his throat. The hem of your dress brushes gently against the bare expanse of your thigh, just about your knee. 
You’re standing right in front of him now. There’s less than a foot of emptiness between you. Heeseung has no idea what to do with that liminal space. He can’t decide whether he should close it or widen it until his brain starts to function again. 
“Is this weird?” you whisper. 
It is. It is. 
“No.”
“Okay,” you nod. You avert your gaze, buying time. “Good.”
He watches your chest rise with an unsteady inhale. Fall with a shaky exhale. 
You bend to set the sand dollar down on the floor to the left of you. 
And then your hand is on his shoulder. Gripping lightly, like you need the support. 
Close. You’re so fucking close. 
And with every passing heartbeat, you’re only getting closer. 
Without meaning to, Heeseung is screwing his eyes shut. 
Later, he’ll regret it. Not committing every possible detail to memory. 
But right now, any semblance of logic is lost with the shreds of sanity he’s been dropping at your feet for the past ten years. 
With the sureness of a steady thing, you ruin them all in one fell swoop.
And then your lips are on his. 
It’s a gentle pressure. Light. No expectations, no demands. No promises or secrets or vows. But the hand on his shoulder is gripping harder now. 
And the second Heeseung regains control of his limbs, he mirrors your action. One hand finds the notch at the bottom of your spine and the other pushes hair away from your temple. 
You’re gentle, unsure. You’re afraid you’re crossing a foolish boundary, ruining a friendship you cherish. 
But Heeseung has been warring with every thought that’s crossed his mind for years, and he can’t find it in himself to be patient now. There’s no hesitation when he pulls you closer. No semblance of restraint when he presses his mouth against yours more firmly, when he swallows the shallow gasp you give him and then begs for more. 
Restraint is all he’s ever known but there’s nothing left of it now. 
When he feels your lips part against his own, he takes it as an invitation. An opening. An offering he’s only ever been afforded in his favorite dreams. 
But this is different. It’s better. You’re real. So fucking tangible and his hands can’t decide where to go next. 
They make quick work of tracing your spine, your neck, your collarbone. But he’s greedy and he’s desperate and he wants his hands as full of you as his mind is. 
It’s not long before fingers are slipping under the flimsy strap of your dress, forging a path that he follows with his lips. 
He hears you sigh, feels the whisper of breath against his hair. And then he hears you whimper. 
A long, drawn out plea that sounds all too much like “Heeseung.”
He shudders, all the way down to his toes. And then he’s pulling you backwards, flipping your positioning so that your spine is pressed against the wall of his bedroom. 
One hand rests above your shoulder, the other beside your head. He sets his forehead against your own, eyes still screwed shut. His heartbeat races in time with the shallow breath in his chest. 
“You have to tell me to stop.” His voice is raw, ragged. “You have to tell me to stop before I fucking lose it.”
“What if I want you to?”
He’s dead. He has to be. Caught in a purgatory of his own making, stuck between a heaven and hell perfectly curated for his ruination.  
“We can’t—” You could, and that’s what makes it so impossible. 
But for Heeseung, this is the culmination of a decade of repressed feelings. Of fleeting touches and lingering gazes and first crushes and the realization that he’s been carrying love with him before he knew what to call it. 
He has no idea what this is for you. 
“I have to know what you’re thinking.” It’s barely a whisper. His voice nearly cracks on the last syllable. He doesn’t think he’s ever been more scared in his life. 
Quietly, your hand finds the base of his neck. Your fingertips trace his skin, a soothing rhythm that does little to quiet the war in his mind. But it does tether him to the moment, anchors him in the present. 
You whisper, and he feels your breath against his swollen lips. “I don’t want to scare you.”
“You won’t,” he shakes his head. It’s a lie. He’s terrified. 
“But what if—”
“I’m in love with you.” It was always going to be him that confessed first. It had to be. “I’ve been in love with you since we were nine years old.” It’s like a weight has been lifted off his chest, as if the world around him is a little lighter now. “You won’t scare me.”
You break the contact of your foreheads, and Heeseung misses your touch the second it’s gone. He’s grateful for the hand that still traces gentle circles on the skin of his nape. 
You use the distance you’ve created to look him in the eye. Searching for any trace of dishonesty, you find nothing but a long held secret, a well-guarded truth. 
“You love me?” You don’t even have to ask. You can see it in his eyes. 
“More than you know.”
“Good,” you whisper, an echo from before. “Because I love you.”
When he kisses you this time, it’s softer. Gentler. The urgency in his gut is still there, but it’s been quieted a bit. Replaced with a distinct sort of fondness he does his best to communicate with touch. 
Love. He spells it with every breath that spills against your own. 
Love. He imbes it into every touch against bare skin. 
Love. He whispers it in your ear and shudders when you do the same. 
Because that sand dollar isn’t stuck in his bottom drawer anymore, hidden away from the light. It’s here, in the openness of his childhood bedroom. A truth between the two of you. 
And when he picks it up again later, he sets it on top of the dresser. Where he and you and anyone else that might pass by can see it. 
…..
Lee Heeseung has a secret. 
It’s whispered in practice runs with Jake and Sunghoon, imagined on the nights he pulls you closer to him as he drifts off to sleep, hidden away in a small, nondescript black box in the back of his closet. 
But Heeseung isn’t nine anymore. He’s not fifteen or nineteen.
He’s twenty-six, and he’s learned a thing or two about secrets. 
So this time, he only holds this one for a month, only carries it with him for a handful of weeks before he divulges. 
And when he does finally get you right where he wants you, back in that same too small treehouse, his secret spills easily. 
Even though his voice is shaky, even though his hands tremble with overflowing nerves. 
He can’t drop to one knee, not exactly. And he nearly drops the little black box when he pulls it from his coat pocket. 
But the ring slides onto your left hand without a hint of resistance. And the stone flickers in dying daylight like it was meant just for you. 
This time, he doesn’t hide behind a note or a sand dollar or even a kiss. 
Instead, he looks you in the eye when he tells you loves you. 
He smiles, a hopeful thing, when he asks you to marry him. 
All the things he never said, every word he never told you, are all here, now. 
Every second of torment, every moment of agony suddenly feel brand new. 
But when you tell him yes, your eyes shining with unshed tears that match his own, he thinks that they just might have all been worth it. 
And when you tell him, for the thousandth time, that you love him, he knows that they were. 
⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖
Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed! I am still working on sacred monsters, but I wanted to put out something cute for Heeseung's birthday and I had a big chunk of this already sitting in my drafts. I mentioned at the beginning, but this is unedited, so please forgive any little mistakes you saw.
all the love ♡
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raven-cincaide · 2 months ago
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Boyfriend! Megumi’s worst enemy wasn’t cute boys trying to whisk you away or party girls who urged a naive little you into (fun) trouble - even if there was plenty of that for him to worry about as well. No, his worst enemy was gifting you a gift.
Boyfriend! Megumi has pried himself on being a smart gift giver. Bragged how easy giving gifts came to him: he always gave his friends what they needed to make their lives easier, better, and more practical. A gimmicky pair of slippers to Yuji after Goto stole his favourite ones; a handheld portable sewing machine for Nobera after she (again!) threw a fit over the tiniest of holes in her newly bought trademark sweater, a posh grinding stone for Maki and a half-joking visit to a fancy Sushi restaurant for Inumaki-senpai after which he expanded his vocabulary with half a dozen new sushi-related words! Yet when it came to you, he was stooped.
Boyfriend! Megumi hated that he was so uncertain about what to get You. Something practical felt too cheap, like he reduced your place in his life to ‘just friends’; jewellery felt thoughtless and impersonal. All those pretty skincare and make-up sets bore the same thoughtless touch while also posing the risk of you taking his gift as a critique. On the other hand, clothes felt too personal and posed the risk of making the entire interaction awkward if he guessed your size, style, and design wrong. Damnit. 
Boyfriend! Megumi pushed aside several neatly wrapped boxes, making them tumble off his bed to be forgotten on his for-once-messy floor. His attention turned to the remaining similar boxes of different shapes and sizes, all individually wrapped in various papers, with only bows and rosettes to tell them apart. What about a spa weekend? Everyone liked those things, right? Or a date night? Or maybe... 
Boyfriend! Megumi barely noticed his dorm room door creek open and your soft padding of plush socks against his wooden floors. He barely hid a smile as you snuck up in front of him and waved your hand in his face. As if he wouldn’t notice you. Then, in the middle of your wave, you noticed all the gifts that littered his bed, 
"Ohh! Are we wrapping gifts? Is that why you called me? But it looks like you’re already done-" 
"-Pick a number", Megumi cut you off, not looking at you. 
Boyfriend! Megumi tried not to jump out of his skin from the nerves or too obviously chew the inside of his cheek as you stared at him with those huge owl-like eyes, as you processed his words. 
“ehhhh? Okay.. 3, I guess?” you sounded uncertain, almost afraid, as if trying to guess what kind of psychological game or scare tactic he was playing. Or what were you supposed to do with the neatly wrapped flat box he placed in your hands? Your tense shoulders and half-bent knees conveyed that you expected the box to turn into a jump scare at any second. 
Boyfriend! Megumi made a mental note to kick Yuji’s ass for showing you Human EarthWorm three. He better not think about showing you the fifth one, lest you become too scared of your own damned shadow. 
Boyfriend! Megumi makes a motion for you to open the gift.
“Is it.. for me?” you asked, and he has to bite back a sarcastic reply. Instead, he merely nodded. He waited with batted breath as you slowly unravelled a signed copy of the newly released book in your favourite series, silently praying that you haven’t bought it yet. When you squealed in delight and jumped on his neck, Megumi knew you hadn't and breathed a sigh of relief. He quickly wrapped his arms around your waist and held you close. He felt like he had aged five years trying to pick a gift for you. 
Boyfriend! Megumi felt proud of himself as you thanked him for the millionth time. “You’re welcome,” he said, kissing your forehead. “You can have another one later,” he added before he could stop himself. 
You pause mid-cheer as the penny drops: “ Wait? If this is gift 3, then are there more gifts? How many more?” 
“Later” Boyfriend! Megumi responded with a hint of a playful smile on his lips. The kind that said that you might just have to work a little bit for those other gifts… 
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roosterforme · 7 months ago
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Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 12 | Rooster x Reader
Summary: Getting rid of Vanessa quickly is one problem to solve, but Bradley is afraid you'll also be ready to leave after the interruption. Tonight was supposed to be special after so many months of thinking about it. But even when things don't go as planned, he's beginning to see that you want to be around him as much as he needs to be around you.
Warnings: Fluff, angst, language, unprotected sex, smut, Bradley being sexy, 18+
Length: 3800 words
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader
Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist
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You were just across the room from Bradley, but it felt like you were miles away right now as he pulled his front door open a little wider to reveal Vanessa. She looked completely calm, as if she was supposed to be at his house. Like he hadn't dumped her months ago. She took a step closer, ready to walk right inside, and his stomach lurched.
"Fuck," he groaned, his face heating up with embarrassment as all of the desire he'd just been enjoying started to recede from his body. "What do you want?"
She already got her fucking water bottle back, so he had no idea how she was going to respond, but he was surprised to hear her say, "I wanted to see you."
Bradley blinked at her wordlessly. He had forgotten the details of her face as soon as he'd seen yours for the first time, and now he could barely remember any of the details of the time he'd spent with her at all. It seemed like a completely foreign concept that she was here to see him. "Why?" he blurted out, and she laughed in response.
"We ended things a little rough before you left, and I'll admit I could have handled it a bit better. But I did miss you while you were away. I wanted to show you how much."
She tried to shoulder her way through the door as he said, "Vanessa. I am so confused right now. We broke up."
"Okay, but now that you're back on dry land, we can both come to our senses."
She must have thought her words sounded reasonable, but they were making his skin crawl. He didn't want her at his house. The uncomfortable feeling was creeping in that he associated for so long with being taken advantage of. He wanted her to leave even as she smiled up at him and reached a hand out to let it rest on his chest.
"I did come to my senses, Vanessa. That's why I broke things off," he said, voice dry and raspy. He was terribly uncomfortable, and he was starting to panic when he felt a warmth at his side and a hand wrap around his bicep. Vanessa's eyes went wide as soon as she saw you, and the look on her face was so comical, Bradley almost laughed.
There was no way you didn't hear every word of their conversation, but you just gave him a little squeeze and smiled as you said, "I'm ready for you to come back to the couch now."
"Who is this?" Vanessa snapped with a tone of jealousy, which was rich coming from her. She was looking at you in disgust as Bradley tried to get his thoughts in order. Was it okay to call you his girlfriend? He was debating with himself, but it didn't even matter. You were already responding. 
"I'm someone who actually cares about Bradley. You must be Vanessa. His ex." Your tone was even, but Vanessa's face started to turn red.
"You've been back for like three days," she muttered in response. "You sure moved on fast."
Bradley pinched the bridge of his nose. "I mentally moved on as soon as we broke up, Vanessa. Months ago. You picked up your water bottle. I've got nothing else for you here."
He was already embarrassed enough, and then she huffed and stomped her foot at him. Had he actually dated this woman? He had, and now you were witness to his mortification as she tossed her hair over her shoulder. "I was going to at least offer to blow you while you thought about where you wanted to take me for dinner tomorrow night, but you can just fuck off, Bradley."
His hand on the door finally sprung to action, and he started pushing it closed as he said, "Goodbye, Vanessa."
"Bye," you said, waving your free hand. You turned so the front of your body was pressed against the front of his as he locked his door once again. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," he grunted in response, because there was really nothing else to say. He'd been daydreaming about this evening for so long, he should have known nothing would go right. "But I wouldn't blame you if you want to go home."
You started to tug on his arms as you shook your head. "The only place I want to go is back to your couch."
"Alright," he replied, cheeks absolutely burning with embarrassment. He couldn't decide if Vanessa was serious or if she just needed to get the last word in, but if she ruined his chances with you, he didn't know what he was going to do.
This time you settled down on the cushion next to him instead of on his lap. This was decidedly not where he thought he would be right now when you had your hands inside his shirt just a few minutes ago. "I'm sorry," he whispered before turning to look at you. "I had no idea she was going to show up. I never anticipated seeing her again, actually." When you reached for his hand in response, he swallowed hard.
"So... you met me through my letter right after you broke up with her?" you asked carefully.
There was no point in denying it. "Yeah. I broke things off shortly before I left home. Then a few weeks into my deployment, I got the first package from you and your kids. And I wasn't lying when I told you it changed everything for the better."
You sighed and kissed his scars, and Bradley's heart skipped around in his chest as you said, "I really had perfect timing, huh?"
"You're not upset?" he asked, holding your hand tighter. He didn't give a single fuck about his entitled ex; he just cared about you.
When you shook your head, your nose brushed along his stubble and the edge of his mustache. "Just annoyed that she tried to make you feel bad while simultaneously trying to get you back. Who does that?"
"Not you," he said easily, and he could feel you smile against his cheek.
"I'm hungry," you told him. "Let's eat pizza together. And then I'd like to get back to where we left off."
He pulled you onto his lap as he dug his phone out of his pocket. "Yeah?" he asked hopefully as you draped your arms around his neck.
"Yeah. You promised me the couch date ages ago, and I want the full experience."
He exhaled the breath he wasn't even aware he had been holding, and then he kissed you and asked, "What kind of pizza do you want, Gorgeous?"
----------------------------
You were not that surprised that Vanessa showed up at Bradley's house. He was handsome and kind, and of course his ex would eventually realize how good she had it before she messed up. But she already had her chance with him, and you noticed right away how his demeanor changed as soon as he opened the door. The sweet way he'd been looking at you since the first time he called you over FaceTime was nothing like the way he looked at her. And now you got to witness how awful she was for yourself.
When there was another knock on the door, you looked up at his face from where you were snuggled up against his bicep holding his hand. He'd been more subdued for the past twenty minutes as you and he actually watched the movie you brought along with you. That was admittedly not something you thought was actually going to happen. But when he looked at you he smiled before leaning in for a kiss.
"That better be dinner this time," you muttered, ready to rocket off the couch if Vanessa dared to come back again.
He chuckled and said, "If it's not pizza, I'm slamming the door and coming right back."
He kissed you softly one last time before standing, and once you confirmed it really was the delivery driver, you went into the kitchen to grab some beers from his refrigerator. You found four different kinds along with another bottle of Prosecco and some seltzers. The kitchen itself was beautiful, and the window overlooked his small yard. You were about to start searching for a bottle opener when Bradley wrapped his arms around you from behind. 
"I never did take you on a tour of my house," he murmured, rubbing his mustache along your cheek. "Now or after we eat?"
"Bradley," you laughed, and he just held you tighter. The kitchen smelled like pizza, and you could already hear his stomach growling. "You won't make it five more minutes without food."
"You're so right, Gorgeous," he replied, spinning you in his arms so you were facing him. That crooked smile was teasing at his lip as he said, "Thanks for not going home because of earlier. I think I would have been devastated if you left."
He seemed almost relieved as soon as he told you that. "It's going to take more to scare me off than your ex girlfriend, but if she comes back here again, I can't guarantee she'll leave without a black eye. I don't like how she was talking to you." The words were out of your mouth before you could really consider them, but Bradley looked even more relieved as that adorable smile warmed up all of his features. "Besides, this is my couch date. Mine and yours, and nobody else is going to fuck it up."
His smile grew as he pushed you back against the island with his hands on your hips. "I kind of like it when you say bad words," he whispered, his tongue darting out at the corner of his mouth. "Why is that so hot?"
"Because I'm a fucking elementary school teacher," you replied as innocently as you could without laughing, and you were rewarded with a kiss that let you know exactly how hot he thought your potty mouth was. Then he groaned as his stomach started growling louder. "You need to be fed."
He released your lips but tilted your chin up with his fingertips. "Right after dinner and some beers, I'm going to show you around, and then we're going to get right back to kissing."
You shrugged and said, "I kind of figured we'd be kissing while you showed me around."
"That's convenient, since I can't seem to stop." This time he kissed your neck before handing you paper plates. He piled one with two slices of pizza before you told him to stop, and then he piled four on the other plate after taking an enormous bite out of one. "Meet me on the couch?" he asked, patting your butt as you walked away. When you paused to glance back at him, he was still watching you. "I'll be right there," he promised.
You only had to sit on the couch alone for a few seconds, thinking about how badly you wanted him, before he joined you with two opened beers and a roll of paper towels. "Here you go, Baby," he muttered, handing over one of the bottles before dropping down on the couch at your side. 
You watched his tall, muscular body as he reached for his stacked up plate of pizza slices and let it rest on his thigh before he draped his free arm around your shoulders and took another sip of beer. Somehow everything he did was graceful, but it was the way he turned to you, casually kissed your lips and said, "If you like this pizza place, we can order from there again," before folding a slice in half and devouring it that made you melt a little bit.
Of course you were going to want to order more pizza and have another couch date night. You took a bite, and the food was amazing. Bradley started man-spreading on the couch which made you have to snuggle in against him a little more. And then you were both taking sips from his bottle of beer since yours was on the coffee table, and you didn't want to move away from him to get it. And the movie was all but forgotten as the two of you started ranking the local pizza restaurants as he finished his fourth slice.
"I liked the pizza," you informed him as he reached for the roll of paper towels. "And I even like that you're using paper towels instead of napkins. It's oddly charming."
With a soft groan, he took the nearly empty beer bottle from your hand and set it aside. You squealed as he murmured, "Come here," and scooped you onto his lap before stretching out along the couch with his legs hanging over the arm. You were straddling his waist with your hands resting on his shoulders as he softly said, "I'll get you pizza or Thai food or Salvatore's as much as you want." His eyes were soft and sincere as he looked up at you and said, " I don't care. I love all of it. I love spending time with you."
When you leaned down to kiss him, your knee slipped, and you started laughing as he held you in place with his big hands on your waist before you could end up on the floor. "You're too big for your couch, Bradley."
"I tried to tell that ages ago," he replied, guiding his hand slowly down your thigh until he was pulling you back into place. "Didn't stop me from fantasizing about having you on top of me exactly like this." His cheeks were pink as you leaned in and successfully kissed him this time. "God, Gorgeous," he whispered. "The real thing is just so much better than the emailed version, and that was enough to get me going for months."
"Bradley," you whined softly.
"Say it again," he groaned, hand tightening on your thigh. His head was tipped back, dark gaze glued to your lips as you ran your thumb along his scarred cheek. You'd never been this comfortable around a man before. Even now he wasn't rushing anything, though you both knew what you wanted. He'd been giving you one last chance all evening to pull away if that's what you decided to do after Vanessa stopped by. But your heart was telling you with absolute certainty that this man was a keeper.
Your lips met his scars, and the tip of your tongue grazed along his stubble before you whispered right next to his ear, "Bradley." Immediately you felt one big hand at the small of your back, hot and rough against your bare skin, guiding you flatter against his body.
"Oh hell," he gasped before devouring your mouth. Your fingers tugged on his wavy hair as his hand slid lower until you felt his fingers slip inside the elastic waistband of your leggings. He held you in place and rolled his hips up to meet you as you moaned into his mouth. He was deliciously hard just for you. If you couldn't have all of him soon, you were afraid you might pass out.
You could vaguely hear the sound of the movie playing in the background as you explored every inch of his mustache with your lips. Bradley's entire hand was inside your leggings now, and if he wasn't holding you so tight, you knew you'd be on the floor. With every exploratory grind of your hips, you got wetter. The stretchy fabric of your leggings was thin, and you could feel him through his jeans as he grunted deep at the back of his throat, "Gorgeous. I want you."
"Oh my god." His other hand was inching his sweatshirt up along your body while he sucked on your neck, and it took you longer than it should have to formulate words as the butterflies went wild. "I want you, too." You helped him pull the shirt a little faster over your head, leaving you laying on top of him in your bra practically panting as you said, "Take me to your room."
He smiled before kissing you hard, and then you were in his arms as he stood up. "You want the full tour of the house right now?" he teased, but his smile slipped as soon as you unzipped his jeans while you shook your head.
"Bedroom. The rest can wait."
---------------------------------
Bradley was torn. Part of him wanted to hold you in his arms all night and list off everything he loved about you. The other part wanted you naked and in his bed. He'd never had such strong feelings of love colliding with such strong feelings of lust in his entire lift, and it was honestly a bit disorienting. You were somehow everything he wanted, all wrapped up in one Gorgeous woman. He still couldn't believe you'd stood by his side and let Vanessa know you were with him now, and therefore maybe a third part of him wanted to reward you just for being so good to him.
"Bedroom?" It was a question this time as you kissed him, and he felt your exploring fingers make their way inside his jeans.
"Let's go, Baby."
Bradley had to stop twice on the way, because you were too fucking perfect. You were too perfect not to press up against the wall in the hallway, and it felt too good when your hand found its way inside his briefs. "Shit," he gasped, eyes wide as you touched him, his hands planted on the wall on either side of your head. He kissed you over and over again as your hand wrapped around his cock, and he never wanted this to end.
When he started to toy with your bra straps, you whispered, "Take it off." 
His cock was held snug in your hand as he undid the clasp at your back and eased the lace away from your chest. You were looking up at him, lips parted like you were trying to gauge his reaction to your body, and he couldn't help but smile as he took in every inch of your tits. "Come on. You know you're Gorgeous. I'm sure you can tell just how much I want you."
When you gave his balls a little squeeze in response, he knew he needed to get you through the doorway and into his room. Your bra fell to the floor as he guided you inside. His desk lamp was glowing, and somehow your body looked even more ethereal bathed in the soft orange light. 
You glanced around the room even as you let him tuck you against his body, and he kissed the top of your head as you whispered, "I've shamelessly thought about being here with you." Your hands were on his abs again, pushing his tee shirt up his body, and Bradley could feel your furled nipples against his skin as he tugged it over his head. Every time he tried to speak, a needy sound escaped him instead as your hands smoothed along his chest and down his sides. "Oh my god, Bradley," you whined, looking up at him with wide eyes. "I've touched myself, too. Imagining you were with me."
"Fuck," he groaned, the last bit of restraint snapping inside him as soon as you said his name and those sweet, filthy words. Of course he'd been losing his mind over the very same sorts of thoughts, and as his mouth collided with yours, he led you backwards to his bed. You gasped and laughed when you landed on your back, tits bouncing beautifully as you looked up at him in surprise. Then he was on top of you, tasting your nipple, hooking his hand around your thigh as it crept up to his hip.
You were panting his name quietly as he inhaled the scent of your skin and tasted both of your breasts. "You're so soft," he whispered, talking about your skin and your body and your sweet personality. "I can't get enough."
With your fingers in his hair, you were rubbing yourself gently up against him, and it was making him hard beyond belief. He didn't know how much more he could handle before he needed to be inside you, but tasting your skin and teasing every inch of you was something that should be savored. 
"You don't have to get enough," you whispered. "Not tonight. I already want more."
Bradley's hands were on your leggings, pulling them down along with your underwear. He fought with them for a second, all tangled up with your legs, and then he kissed your giggles away as he ran his rough fingertips along your pussy. When your back arched off the bed, you gasped, and he dragged his middle finger gently along your slit, bucking against your leg at the slick wetness he found there.
You were naked beneath him, reaching for him, telling him you needed his kisses, and it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen or heard. He tried to take his time, taste you everywhere, but he needed to fuck you more than he needed to breathe. He was dizzy as he stood, jeans halfway down his thighs, cock hanging free from his underwear. Then you sat up in bed, knees bent as you squeezed your legs together and watched him get the rest of the way undressed in awe.
His brain was buzzing as you reached for him, and he took your hand in his, kissing your fingers as he said, "Let me grab the condoms I bought." He walked to his dresser, hands shaking with excitement as he tore into the box, but when he brought one back to the bed and settled in next to you, he noticed you were chewing on your lip.
"Do we really need this?" you asked softly, tapping the wrapper as you kissed him.
Your other hand was wrapped around his cock once again as he grunted, "I don't know, Baby. Do we?"
"Nope." You tossed it across the room, looped your arms around his neck and said, "I want to feel you."
When he eased you onto your back, his cock was nestled against your pussy, and he was completely lost beyond hope. "Yeah, Gorgeous?" he rasped, easing his tip closer to your opening. "You want to feel me?"
You rolled your hips, accepting him into your warmth, and Bradley thrust deep. He felt like the wind had been knocked from his lungs as you wrapped your leg around his thigh and kissed his name against his lips. You welcomed his touch everywhere as he fucked you. Your hands and mouth found his hair and his scarred cheek, like you were made for him. There was no hesitation or uncertainty. Now that he knew every inch of you, he was never going to want anything else.
------------------------------
Bradley's body was big and warm, and you could smell him everywhere. His hands were deliciously rough on your skin even as his touch was gentle and sure. Every sensation was brand new while still making you feel comfortable, as if you and he had been here before. You had in your mind at least. You'd considered so many things when it came to Bradley's body while he was still deployed, but just like his exquisite letters and emails, this was even better in person.
You shivered as he stroked your clit, wrapping your leg around him a little tighter, wanting more. Another steady swipe of his thumb, and you were whining. "You like that," he mused softly, and it wasn't a question. "You want more." Also, not a question. He seemed to know what you wanted and how you'd respond even before you did, and when he pulled your nipple between his lips, your back arched off the bed.
"Oh my god, Bradley," you moaned, looking at his handsome face as he gave you thrust after delicious thrust. "Our texts are going to be filthy after this," you gasped, and the intense look on his face receded a bit as a smile found his lips.
"You're damn right," he grunted before dipping his lips down to kiss you again before finding your shoulder and then your neck. "I can't wait to figure out every single little thing that turns you on. I'm gonna take my time and find all of them."
You believed him implicitly, especially since he was already doing a stellar job of making you slowly lose your mind. When his big hands found your hips, he held you in place and went a little harder as sweat started to bead on his forehead. He watched your face for a reaction, and as soon as your lips parted in a long whimper, his mouth was on yours. You held onto his shoulders as he tasted your tongue and told you that you were the only girl for him. Whispered that you belonged with him.
Soon you were slipping, remembering all of the sweet things he told you, both typed and spoken. "I'm so close," you pleaded, needing him to get you all the way there. It had been so long since someone made you feel this good, and this was the very first time a man ever made you feel this vital to his own happiness. Without prompting, Bradley circled your clit with his thumb as you tasted the bead of sweat on his cheek, and you were done. Your orgasm rocked through you as you cried out his name, and his thrusts slowed to an almost languid pace that just made you get louder and clench around him harder.
"Jesus," he panted, smoothing his hand along your skin as he watched you come apart beneath him. "Fucking gorgeous." Bradley's fingers curled around the back of your neck, and his thumb grazed along your lip as he watched you. His handsome face was flushed, and his movements were jerky as he rasped, "Where do you want me to cum?"
"Anywhere."
A string of desire laced expletives flowed from his lips along with your name. He buried his face in the crook of your neck and fucked you until his hips stopped moving, and you reveled in the warm feeling of being full when he didn't pull out. His body was heavy in a good way, and you dragged your fingers lazily through his hair as he murmured, "Am I hurting you?"
"No," you promised, wrapping your calf tighter around his thigh. "Don't you dare move."
The rumble of his deep chuckle and the scrape of his mustache against your neck made you shiver. "I'm not going anywhere, Gorgeous." You just held him to your body while he stayed inside you and treated your skin to little nips and kisses. But eventually his stomach started growling, and you giggled when he groaned. "I don't even feel self conscious around you," he muttered, reluctantly pulling his body away from yours. "Let's destroy the rest of the extra large pizza together while I show you the rest of my house."
Truly, nothing sounded better to you. Bradley located his discarded shirt on the floor and collected you in his arms before pulling it over your head. Then he tugged his underwear into place while he kissed you, and you led the way back to the couch. You could feel how sticky he'd left you between your thighs, but you didn't immediately do anything about it, because he was grabbing the pizza box from the kitchen and then pulling you down onto his lap on the couch. His chin and forehead were cool and tasted a little salty as you kissed him and snuggled against his body. This was exactly how his couch was supposed to be for the two of you as you basked in the way he made you feel magical just by looking at you.
He held up a piece of pizza with a laugh and let you take a bite before he ate most of it. The movie had ended a while ago, and the menu options were playing softly in the background as you finished your snack together with his warm body cradling yours. "During the house tour, can we visit your shower together?" you asked him, running your fingers through his sparse patch of chest hair and down to his abs. "Before bed?"
"Already on the agenda," he informed you, standing again with you in his arms. He led you around, mostly showing off his piano, and then he took you into his spotlessly clean bathroom. He turned on the shower, and as the water warmed up, he pulled his shirt over your head and left you standing naked in front of him with his arm wrapped around you. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about this all the time," he murmured, running his thumb lazily along your nipple as you pressed your thighs together in need. "But I think about how much I love your face and your voice and the way you make me feel just as much. Maybe more."
"Bradley," you gasped, and he treated you to a needy little grunt that left you reaching for his face. "That's the kind of stuff a boyfriend would say."
His expression didn't change much, but his smile grew wider as he told you, "Well I want to keep saying it. So why not let me?"
"Let you what? Be my boyfriend?" you asked, heart beating a little faster as those familiar butterflies found their way back.
"Yeah, Gorgeous. I'm dying for it. And we've kind of already been doing this thing together for months, right?"
"Right," you agreed, pulling him toward the shower as steam filled the room. He came willingly, an expectant look on his face as you said, "You can be my boyfriend, Bradley."
His lips found yours, and they stayed there for a while.
--------------------------------
Vanessa wanted him to come to his senses, but he already did! HA! He and Gorgeous are like magnets that just want to be touching at all times. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls
PART 13
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863 notes · View notes
lipglossanon · 30 days ago
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Pound Puppy
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Leon S. Kennedy x puppy!reader
A little more savory tier commission from anon 💜
word count: 2340
Warnings: 18+ MDNI, hybrid au, hybrid reader, bestie Claire making an appearance, praise kink, oral (m receiving), shower sex, dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, piss kink, marking
proofread
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Leon walks by the same alley on his way home. Unfortunately for him, the parking for his neighborhood is a complete crap shoot, so he always ends up parking at the end of the street to walk to his house. It’s a pain in his ass, but until work cuts down on his hours, he’s stuck with it.
He doesn’t see you every time he passes the alleyway, but, now and again, he’ll catch sight of you hunkered down, tinkering with something in your hands. You're a hybrid, practically a pup from what he can tell. You don’t seem to have a collar or an owner. Dirt smudges your face and hands, and your clothes look worn and ratty. Leon feels a bit bad leaving you out there, but you always run off when you notice him at the lip of the alley. 
He mentions all of this offhandedly on the phone one afternoon with Claire, who throws a complete fit. She takes the time to drive over that weekend and spends hours coaxing you out of that dingy and dirty alleyway. Your hesitant, which Leon can understand; he and Claire are total strangers. 
Claire brings you into his house, and to his surprise, with the intention to keep you at his place. 
“She’d probably be more comfortable with you,” he hisses to the red-haired woman once you’re out of earshot. “And besides, you’re the one who talked her out of that place.”
“Yes, I did, Leon,” Claire rolls her eyes at him. “But this neighborhood is familiar to her. I’m not going to force her to leave the only place she can kind of call home. Suck it up.”
Leon throws his hands up and leaves Claire to help get you settled after giving you a bath and clean clothes. Before leaving, Leon’s supposed friend gives him a quick rundown of the information she was able to glean. 
She ticks off each point by throwing up a finger. “She’s in her 20s. She’s afraid of water. She has no family. And her last owner dumped her as soon as she quit being a cutesy puppy.”
He frowns at that last bit, but Claire pushes on giving him your name and how long you’ve been a stray. 
“So, just be nice and keep a routine until she adapts. Call me if you need me!”
And with that, Leon watches her leave out of his front door and climb onto her Harley Davidson. After slipping on her helmet, Claire gives him a little wave while he sees her off from his front porch. He tosses up a lazy two-finger salute, and she revs her bike, then peels off down his street. 
Sighing, he walks back into his house. Looking up, Leon sees you hovering in the living room, biting your nails nervously. You fidget in place, toes curled into the rug while you tug on an old shirt of his, the hem fraying. 
Leon gestures to the couch. “You’re welcome to watch the TV. Uh, the cable should be set up.”
You cock your head, soft ears flopping with the movement. “I can sit on the couch? At my old place, I wasn’t allowed on the furniture.”
Leon’s lips twitch, but he keeps his face neutral. “Yeah, I don’t mind what you do as long as you don’t make a mess of the place. Just be courteous and clean up after yourself.”
Nodding, your tail wags slowly. “Okay, thanks, Mister.”
“Leon,” he scratches a hand through his hair, a sigh leaving him. “Just call me Leon.”
You nod, a small smile crossing your face. “Alright. Thanks, Leon.”
He keeps you at arms length, but you’re slowly starting to grow on him. Being greeted at the door when he gets home is nice. He’s forgotten what it’s like to have someone around—another presence taking up space in his home. It’s not stifling like he thought it would be; you’re sweet, and Leon’s realizing he needs sweetness in his life.
From that weird afternoon of you moving in all the way until now, Leon has lived with you for a couple of months. He’s noticed you’re more cuddly and have even taken to sneaking into his room to sleep with him. You’ve wormed your way into his life, and he’s all the happier for it.
He bathes you every night, helping you stay calm and cool while he washes your ears and tail. At first, it was all very clinical and quick, but now he lets you relax and take your time. It’s helped tremendously with your fear of the water. However, it’s also led to a dilemma. 
There’s no denying; you’re a very pretty pup. Leon tries his best, but he can’t help but sneak glances at your naked tits and cute pussy. He’s able to keep it under wraps, wearing jeans to help hide any stiffness he may develop. His plan works for a while—until he ends up staying late one night. 
You greet him at the door like usual, tail wagging and ears perked up. He kicks off his shoes and ruffles your ears. 
“Bath time?” You smile, tugging on his sleeve.
Leon glances at his watch. “Shit. Yeah, sorry work ran long, sweetheart. We’ll get you your bath so you can go to bed.”
You clasp your hands around his bicep, nuzzling into his arm while he guides you over to the bathroom. Once inside, you stay glued to him, watching with wide eyes as the tub fills up with water. As soon as it’s ready, Leon turns to let you undress and climb over the lip. He takes off his suit jacket and hangs it over the towel hook on the door.
He moves back over to you naked and wet in the tub. Too little, too late. Leon remembers that he’s just wearing slacks and not his usual jeans. Cock thickening, he quickly kneels on the mat next to the tub, keeping his waist out of your line of sight. You smile at him, titling your head so he can help scrub your ears.
Leon listens as you tell him about your day, asking questions about his—your voice soothing and soft. You dip your head back to rinse off the soap, and as you raise back up, he watches the suds trickle down your neck across the swell of your breasts. Shaking your head, you sling water from your hair and ears, giggling when Leon calls out a lighthearted hey.
Reaching in, he splashes you, making you giggle harder, splashing him back. You smack the water harder than intended, and a deluge covers Leon, soaking his shirt and pants. 
“Oh no! I’m sorry,” you raise up onto your knees, peering over the side of the tub to see how much of a mess you made. 
“It’s okay,” Leon blinks water from his eyes, then freezes in place when he feels a warm hand pet across his bulge. 
Wiping a hand across his face, his blue eyes warily take in your expression, but what he finds is nothing but interest. You rub his cock through his slacks, and he throbs, making you giggle—tail wagging happily. 
“I just thought my nose was getting mixed up,” you murmur, eyes dropping down to his bulge. “You always smelled turned on.”
He groans when you squeeze him gently. 
Biting your lip, you whisper, “It always got me really wet.”
“What a naughty little puppy,” he murmurs, reaching forward to grope your wet tits. Whining, you arch your back, pressing your breasts more firmly into his palms. 
He massages the soft peaks, fingers digging into your breasts and squeezing. Dragging his fingertips around your areola, he pinches your nipples until you whimper, thighs rubbing together underneath the water. Letting go of your tits, he leans forward to pull the stopper on the bath. 
Pouting, you gaze at him as he stands up. “Is it time to get out?”
“No, we’re gonna take a shower together, sweetheart,” he murmurs, flicking on the water before undressing and stepping into the tub. 
The cool spray hits his back, making him shiver. His hard cock bobs in front of your face, and you lean forward to lick across the tip. Groaning, Leon’s hips buck forward, cockhead grazing your cheek and smearing precum across your skin. 
“Pup—“
His sentence cuts off with a moan when you open your mouth and begin lathing your tongue across his dick. 
“Taste so good,” you pant, tail a blur behind you, ears relaxed against your head. “Can I lick you whenever I want?”
“Fuck,” Leon rubs your soft ears. “Yeah, pup, you can lick my cock as much as you want.”
Humming, you let your tongue lap at his tip before nosing your way down to his balls. He tips his head back, water wetting his hair as your hot little mouth sucks and kisses his squishy sac. You smear your own spit across your face, tongue bathing his balls in your drool. 
“Come on, sweetheart, suck my dick,” Leon coos, grabbing the back of your head to guide your mouth back up to his leaking cock.
“Mmm hmm,” you sigh, eyes half lidded, while Leon feeds his cock past your lips. 
“God, such a good girl,” he groans, and you whine around his thick length. “Yeah, you are. Such a good puppy for me.”
He rocks his hips against your face, forcing his tip to kiss the back of your throat. Spit bubbles and spills from around your lips as he keeps his cock in your mouth. Every time you swallow around him, his dick twitches and throbs on your tongue, precum leaking down your throat. 
Leon grunts and presses closer, pushing his dick a little deeper; it makes you gag hard, and he pulls out—thick, slimy spit hanging from his cock in strings. His abs and hips flex, arousal burning hot in his blood. 
“Look at you, so gorgeous,” he praises, and your eyes flutter. “My good puppy.”
Moaning, you sink your mouth back down on his cock, choking when you press too far but not stopping in the slightest. He pulls his dick from your swollen lips, then bends forward to slip his hands underneath your armpits to pull you up on your feet.
“Let me feel this sexy pussy,” he rumbles, lips brushing across your fuzzy ear. 
Whining, you cant your hips toward him. “Please, Leon. Play with my pussy.”
Both of you let out sounds of pleasure when his fingers part your slick folds, digits pressing teasingly at your hole.
“Such a wet puppy pussy,” he coos, dropping a kiss at the corner of your lips. “Does she need a cock stuffing her cute hole?”
“Please, oh please,” you mewl, tail bumping against the tiled wall. “Wanna feel full.”
He hikes one of your legs around his hip before gripping his cock and notching it at your clenching heat. Pressing the tip inside, he uses both hands to grab the fat of your ass to pull you onto his cock as he sinks deeper into your cunt. 
“So tight, fuck,” he groans, pelvis flush against your own. “God, gonna make me nut so fast, sweetheart.”
“Leon,” you moan loudly, nails clawing up his back and making his cock pulse inside your snug pussy. 
Leon blames his recent celibacy for his quick trigger response to having your soft wet pussy clamping down on his dick. You don’t seem to be much better off, pussy walls rippling and squeezing around his cock while you moan and pant against his chest. He moves a hand between your bodies, fingers circling your swollen clit. 
“So slippery and soft, baby,” he growls. “Cum for me so I can cream your sweet little pussy.”
“I’m so close,” you drool, hips humping your cunt down onto his cock. “G’nna cum, Leon. You’re gonna make me cum.”
“Good girl. I want you to cum. Want you to squeeze my cock with that fat puppy pussy,” he groans, fingers strumming across your clit faster and faster. 
You sink your sharp teeth into his shoulder and scream, body twitching and shuddering as your orgasm hits you hard and fast. Leon can’t stop himself, fucking you through your aftershocks to chase his own climax. He buries his cock to the hilt in your hole, spilling hot and thick inside your cunt. You moan, pussy milking him for every drop of cum in his balls. 
After you both catch your breath, Leon slides his cock from your tight hole with a sigh. He then helps ease your leg back onto the ground. Rubbing your arms, he leans forward and kisses your forehead, making you preen. Letting another few seconds pass in comfortable silence, Leon drops his arms to his side. 
“Gotta piss,” he mutters, moving to get out. 
Your fingers latch onto his arm, big eyes pleading up at him. 
“Mark me up,” you nuzzle against his neck. “Mark your territory.”
Leons half-hard cock twitches in interest but stays soft. “Baby…”
“Please,” you bat your eyes, and he’s quickly nodding in agreement. 
There’s no sense denying it to himself— he thinks it’s hot as hell you want him to piss on you. Too bad his refractory period isn’t immediate. He grips his cock, and you kneel down in front of him. A few drops of urine leak from his tip. You whine, and Leon relaxes into it, hot piss steadily streaming onto your neck and tits. His eyes watch it coat your skin, a possessive satisfaction settling in his chest. 
Shifting his feet, he uses his grip to aim his cock at your face, piss hitting your lips and chin. You drop your mouth open with a moan. 
“Fuck, such a good fucking puppy for me,” he grunts, directing the stream of urine onto your tongue. 
You keep your mouth open, swallowing Leon’s piss until it slows down to a trickle before tapering off completely. Humming, you look up at his with glassy eyes. 
“Thank you, Leon.”
“Anytime, sweetheart.”
347 notes · View notes
justwonder113 · 2 months ago
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Sharing bed with Seungmin
Chan; Lee Know ; Changbin; Hyunjin; Han; Felix; Seungmin; IN;
My Masterlist
Summary: After facing the horrible and vile beast and hurting your leg in the fight, your best friend offers to let you stay in his house. Where one thing might lead to another. Warning: cursing as always, there's no surprise there. Not proofread. Both Seungmin and Reader are quite goofy. Reader is gender neutral. Mentions of kissing.
A/N- Hey babies! I'mglad to say I'm back and well. I hope you'll like this fic. Reblogs and cooments are greatly appreciated. Feel free to request and send your thoughts if you have any❤️ Word count- 1.8k If you like my work you can buy me coffee🩷
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Having your own house is a beautiful experience. It’s like an adventure of having your own kingdom and being a monarch. You have all the privacy and personal space one can dream of; you have peace and quiet; you have freedom to do whatever you want be it walking around butt naked or cooking up a three course meal at  3am; you can have random 3 am dance concerts and so on and so on. Most importantly you could do whatever you wanted to decorate and style it which is what you were busy doing right now.
Lately your Pinterest feed was full of various versions of colorful archways. People came up with so many interesting ways to add a pop of color to their house and it seemed quite easy to do so. So here you were perched on the stool unleashing your inner artist on your archway. Well at least that was the plan. Everything went to gutter when you saw a movement in the corner of your eye. You turned around made eye contact with probably the most disgusting and vile looking grasshopper ever. The horrific appearance of the beast made you scream so hard the beast also got startled and fucking jumped on you! Obviously you lost your shit at that too, your already shaky and unstable stool just couldn’t take it anymore. One second you were screaming your lungs out the next second you were on the floor with your leg hurting like a bitch.
You must have made quite a lot of noise because almost immediately the front door of your house basically burst open and Seungmin rushed towards your hunching figure. You had almost forgotten he was supposed to come over. You had even left your door open for him. Quite convenient, because no way in hell would you be able to stand up and walk towards the door in this state. You sure as hell hoped you didn’t break it.
“Are you okay? What happened?” Seungmin looked frantic as he nervously examined you. You wanted to keep your cool, you really did. But the pain and the shock took over your senses and the next thing you knew you were bawling your eyes out as Seungmin, confused and unsure of what to do, cradled your body close to his frame and tried to calm you down.
You were unsure of what happened next. You were pretty out of it. Maybe out of shock maybe because of the painkillers, who knows. Seungmin did most of… Well basically everything. He helped you get ready, took you to the hospital, did basically all the talking with the doctors, stayed with you through every procedure… He even took care of all the paperwork, bought all the meds and not once did he complain about anything! Even more, he bought you to his house! Well he said because you couldn’t be trusted to be alone but you knew it was because he was worried, also you did complain quite a lot about being afraid of the beast lurking in your house. With your foot strained like this there wasn’t even a possibility for you to run away from the hideous creature.
If you thought that he wasn’t husband material before (oh no you were totally not crushing on your best friend, not at all!), he even made you dinner, which was just finger licking good! He made sure to step away to his room to make a call, but you could still hear how he asked Minho for tips. How could you not love him? He even called Minho! He hated asking him for help. He looked so good doing everything too, all you could think about was how you wanted to kiss him.
“You’re the best Minnie.” You cheered as he helped you get to bed. He insisted that you take his bed, refusing to hear you protest. You loved how he always acted like everything was such a bother and then went out of his way to do it.
“Shut it, I’m only letting you sleep on my bed because knowing your clumsy ass you’ll fall of the sofa and further injure yourself!” He grumbled as he tucked you in like you were a literal child.
“Aww you do care about me.” You couldn’t help but tease.
Seungmin only scoffed – “Don’t push it!”
“I love you too!”- You mused, he rolled hie eyes at that but you could have sworn the corner of his lips lifted up. He was about to leave but you reached in just in time to grab his hand. Seungmin looked taken aback for a second but quickly gathered himself. “Please stay?” You made sure to do your best puppy eyes and it worked! Seungmin immediately caved, but being a stubborn ass, he is he just plopped on you. Careful to not touch your leg but still with enough force to squish you.
Honestly, jokes on him because you only saw this as an opportunity to wrap your hands around him and tightly hug him. He “tried” to get free but you knew that this softie enjoyed the hug, the big ass smile on his face confirmed it. In mere sounds he stopped resisting and continued to just flop on you.
“What are you doing?” He huffed out while his face was adorned with the prettiest smile ever. God you couldn’t understand how could he say anything bad about his smile or even think of hiding it. It was always so innocent and pure. It never failed to put a smile on your face, to light up your whole world.
“Showing how thankful I am?!” – To further prove your point you leaned in and gave him the fastest smooch on his cheek. Seungmin made sure to grimace as dramatically as possible, but as always, his arms wrapping around your waist told whole another story about how he felt.
“Oh really? By kissing my cheek?” What a little shit. Now it was your time to roll your eyes. “Are you insinuating I should kiss you elsewhere?” You tried to not sound as hopeful as you actually felt.
Seungmin barked out a teasing laugh-“As if you could, you don’t have the guts for it!”
You quickly let go of him and crossed your arms to show your disdain, with equally matching scowl adorning your face. That didn’t stop him from hugging your frame, in fact he tightened his hold around your waist. “How dare you sir!”
Seungmin looked at you with challenging look, his eyes full of amusement. “What? Are you going to kiss me then?” His voice was teasing, you couldn’t tell if he was actually for real or not. You couldn’t’ tell if you should challenge him or not.
“I just might!” – You challenged, thinking that you just might as well go with it. You could always play as if you were joking. You hated hiding your true feelings but anything was better than possibly losing him as a friend.
“What are you waiting for then?”? You thought you knew him the best but you couldn’t really decipher what his face meant. Was he actually for real? Were you two about to cross the line that could possibly ruin your friendship either for the best or for the worst?
“Don’t you dare regret it!” You whispered against his lips. When did Seungmin’s face get so close? With every breath your lips slightly brushed against each other. You could smell the minty smell of his toothpaste. God you were really about to do it!
“Wouldn’t dream of it love.” His voice was low, almost like a whisper. God, you couldn’t resist him anymore. Here went nothing. Bringing him closer with his face you finally connected your lips together.
His lips were a bit cold and chapped but nonetheless you loved how they felt against yours. Your whole heart was bursting with joy. Every drag of your lips against each other felt like heaven, you couldn’t help but lean in for more. Seungmin must have also felt that way because he also kissed you like a starved man, like you were oxygen he needed to breathe. His hands had shifted from around your waist, one hand held your hip tightly while the other migrated to your neck and softly rested there. You also couldn’t keep your hands to yourself, your one arm was wrapped around his shoulders as the other still held his cheek to have him as close as possible. His lips were almost addictive like a drug you didn’t know needed in your life you just couldn’t get enough.
Unfortunately for you, you had to lean back to get some air. You always thought that oxygen was overrated anyway but biology or whatever. Seungmin also seemed unimpressed to be away from your lips but that still didn’t stop him from covering your whole face and neck with sweet kisses.
“I thought I was the one supposed to be the one saying thanks?” You couldn’t help but giggle as he kissed the ticklish spot on your neck. Seungmin looked up to you for a second then quickly got up. Your heart clenched at the idea that you might’ve done something wrong but he immediately washed away those worries by walking around the bed and laying down on the bed next to you, under the same queen size cover.
You looked at him with wide eyes as he got more comfortable laying on his back and opened his arms for you almost like an invitation. “All done!”
“What are you doing Min?” A smile crept up your face as you examined his mischievous smile.
“I just got more comfortable, you can thank me as much as you want now.” Seungmin answered proudly with the prettiest smirk adorning his face.
 You couldn’t help but mirror the expression. “You’re such a brat sometimes. What should I do with you?”
As if seriously thinking things over Seungmin furrowed his eyebrows and to be extra dramatic crossed his arms. You loved how giddy he felt after your kiss. It felt nice knowing you weren’t the only one losing your shit on the inside.
Seungmin smiled, and you knew immediately he was about to smartass you. You tried to turn away from him to not give him the satisfaction but he was quicker. He wrapped his arms around you and brought you closer to his body, his forehead gently resting on yours. “You love me!” After rolling your eyes at his goofyness you sighed in defeat and relaxed into the hug.
“You know what? I do.” You leaned in and sealed your lips again to further confirm your feelings. You would have hurt your leg a long time ago if you knew it things would end up like this.
Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated^^
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darkbluekies · 6 months ago
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Oooo okay for the Drabble I think Jerry and Silas cause you know why not also because i like them a little too much
Silas & Jerry drabbles: comforting a scared darling
Mafia!yandere OC & female!yandere!mafia
Warnings: graphic threats from Jerry
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Silas:
First, you didn't want him to leave for a mission when you were supposed to go to bed, and when he did you wanted the lamp on. You and Silas had watched a horror movie not too long ago. Silas hadn't imagined that you would take it so hard.
He knows that he shouldn't have left you alone in the bedroom, but he has to have this meeting. He should have seen it coming.
"Boss, your spouse is here", his second in command says from the door. He's been standing by the wall to keep an eye over the room, to make sure that no one will try to do anything. "Should I send them away?"
He should have known that you wouldn't go to bed. He excuses himself and stands up, walking over to the door. You're standing outside, wearing one of his hoodies. This new fear of yours have brought out a clinginess for him that he can't resist. You're just too cute.
"What are you doing out of bed?" he asks in a hushed tone so that his men won't hear and grab your arm. He knows why you are here, but he wants to hear you say it.
"I can't sleep", you whisper for him only. "I'm so scared, please ..."
"We've talked about this, little thing, nothing will hurt you. Everything we saw was made with cgi and rehearsed numerous times. Nothing was real. You know that."
You glare at him. How dare he belittle your fear? He senses his wrongdoings right away.
"No, I didn't mean that", he says quickly and moves closer. "Baby, listen, I'm just saying that what you are afraid of was never real. It can't hurt you."
"That doesn't mean anything. Just because you say that doesn't mean that I'll surprisingly stop being scared."
He can't resist your scared eyes. Silas sighs and hugs you.
"I have to do this meeting, it's urgent, I can't go to bed with you", he says, and then decides. "Okay, you'll sit next to me and stay here until the meeting is over. Eyes down, got it?"
You nod. Silas leads you into the conference room and lets you sit on a chair close by him. Your head is turned down, hand holding onto his pants. No mafia man is as scary as that fictional monster.
Jerry:
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Darkness? Why are you araid of darkness? It's such a stupid thing to be afriad of, when Jerry is the definition of it.
"Don't be absurd", Jerry says and turns off the car. "Nothing will touch you as long as you are in the car!"
"Then let me keep the car light on", you say.
"No, it will attract threats."
"You said that nothing would hurt me in the car!"
"As long as you keep the lights off."
"Jerry, I can't deal with darkness."
"Y/N, I really don't have the time to fight with you. I have a man to kill if you have forgotten and the longer I am here, the further away he comes."
She sighs at your teary eyes.
"I'll be gone for a minute — two at most — and then I'll take care of you. Wait here — in the dark — for me."
With that said, she's gone. Those two minutes she's away, you've already started crying. She's back in a wit and is quick to take you in her arms.
"You're such a coward", she cooes and hides your face into her shoulder. "You have nothing to fear as long as I am here."
"But you weren't here! You were out killing some man!"
"For two minutes, baby. I'm here now. Breathe before you pass out."
"I fucking hate the dark ..."
"I know, baby, I know." She kisses your forehead. "I'm not going anywhere else for tonight. I'm going to take good care of you."
You cling onto her.
"Don't cry, you little baby", she whispers. "The darkness isn't anything to be afraid of, you know? It is actually a good thing, believe it or not. Without the darkness, i would be in jail by now. The darkness hides things you don't want to see. You should actually be thankful."
You sniffle.
"Oh, pull yourself together, baby", Jerry sighs. "I already told you that I am here and that nothing will happen. I will cut the throat of anything that tries to put their hands on you. Does that comfort you?"
"A bit ... maybe."
"Well, let me try again then, if you insist on being so fucking difficult. I will, personally, dig out the eyes of the naive enough to come close to you, in darkness or not. I will cut their hands of, braid their veins and create skipping ropes with them. Is that good enough for you?"
She laughs as you tug at your lips. Jerry might not be the best at comforting, but she will do everything for you.
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First, love the dark Lucifer Vampire story! And I love how treats Adam like a pet. So, here's what I have you:
Prince! Adam x Warlord! Lucifer (yes he would be dark and treat Adam like a glorified pet. Adam would grow to like it but at first, he's embarrassed as hell. He's given to Lucifer as his prisoner to stop him from attacking the kingdom of Heaven. Adam tries to fight it but he's forced into it by his mother, Sera, against his will. Lilith will be dead in this, died during childbirth, and Charlotte is just as ruthless as her father. Lucifer sees Adam as his pet for the most part but later on, decides he'd make a good bride. He's submissive and does what he's told. Perfect. Adam slowly falls in love with him and Lucifer will follow slowly after. Adam's personality would basically be shy but easily moved to tears due to his low self-esteem. Sera treats him like a waste of space and much prefers her daughter, Emily.)
XxX
Prince Adam couldn't believe what he was hearing from his own mother. He had been dragged from his room by guards, no yelling would get them to stop, and he was brought before his mother, Queen Sera of the kingdom of Heaven. She looked down at him with a glare like she normally would.
"Adam. The invaders have come to a decision." Adam had a bad feeling about this. Emily refused to look at him but she did look bored to be here. She was always bored, even when their mother was hurting Adam. But, this whole situation leaves Adam with a bad taste in his mouth and the guards forcing him to kneel didn't help either.
"Adam, you will go with them as...collateral to keep them away from our borders. They've requested a prisoner and me and Emily certainly couldn't leave Heaven to its own devices. That leaves you."
No. No! This couldn't be happening! Adam was to be a prisoner?! To some tyrant, they call The Devil?! He felt tears fall onto the floor as he begged, "Please! There has to be—"
Sera simply scoffed. "Cease you're crying. Honestly, a man shouldn't be crying this much but I guess you never met the criteria of a man, did you?" Adam flinched, hurt once more by her words. Emily let out a chuckle but she didn't say much of anything. She never did. She saw Adam like one would a fly. Annoying but completely forgotten when out of the room.
He was bound in chains and gagged before being put in the dungeons to wait until after the kingdom celebrated getting out of war. They would throw a feast for the tyrant and his daughter, they would take their prisoner and leave. The war over and Adam gone. Two birds with one stone.
Queen Sera prepared the most magnificent feast they could and just in time. The Warlord and his daughter were here. He walked in like owned the place, his regal cape flooding behind him. His daughter, taller than him by a head, walked beside him, her cold eyes gazing at everything in disgust. Their palace was much better.
"Ah, if isn't the Queen." The Warlord said, smirking at her. There was a reason they called him The Devil. The birth name given to him was Lucifer. His daughter, Charlotte Morningstar, looked just smug, her red eyes dancing with mirth at the fact everyone seemed afraid of them.
She was known to keep a plethora of women at her side that she used as her pleasure. She took care of them in her opinion and they all loved being her pets, but it was amusing to see all of them, especially the women, terrified that she would seduce them and use them like a pet.
They weren't worthy of that.
"Shall we eat?"
I love all of this so much!! @beef-brisket @fanofstuff01 @kittenfangirl20 I need of rp of this yesterday lmao
-
Adam sat down in the cell, his eyes wet as he couldn't stop silently crying as he could hear the celebration going on upstairs. They were celebrating him being given to a ruthless Warlord as a pet, a slave in every sense of the word.
He was supposed to be a Prince, yet he was treated no better than the dead rat in the corner that was rotting away. Soon that would be him, The Devil will likely torture him for the rest of his days and use him any way possible.
Adam felt another tear fall from his eyes, he was a virgin so the thought of the only time he'd be having sex........ It broke his heart that he would never be loved by anyone.
His father loved him before he passed away from being sick. Adam wished he was still alive, surely he wouldn't let his mother do this.
His mother didn't love him, Adams not sure she ever did. His sister seemed indifferent towards him. He didn't know what he did to make them not want or love him.
No one loved him, no one ever would. Adam was never going to be happy ever again.
His eyes stayed locked down on his bound hands. Was this what awaited him down South in the car country of Hell? To be thrown in the dungeon, bound and gagged, only to be fed enough to live. To know only pain and suffering from this day on. Maybe the Warlord will take pity and make Adams death quick and painless.
And maybe Adam will grow wings and fly away.
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gojossocks · 1 year ago
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Pathetic
Pairing: AU!Sukuna x reader Genre: angst Content: the title says it all, pathetic ‘kuna core. Sukuna cockblocked himself because he's afraid of commitment :DD a bit of gojo x reader at the end bc y/n deserves love. Wc: 1.2k
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“Stop being so pathetic.” He had declared, his words cutting through the air like shards of ice.
But you, ever resolute, had refused to let his harshness deter you. Sukuna knows how much his sentence has hurt you. Your hands were trembling as you reached his, desperately seeking connection. Tears glistened in your eyes, your voice was quivering but you smiled at him through your blurred vision.
“We could work it out right, ‘Kuna?” you implored, your voice soft yet it held so much weight. “Please talk to me. I don’t need anything else! I just need you. We don’t have to get married or anything. I am content just being with you. I love you.”
Sukuna’s gaze remains distant, his eyes fixed on the table behind you. He isn’t looking at you anymore. His response was dispassionate and void of the warmth he used to give you. “It’s not that. I just don’t love you anymore, Y/N.”
He watched you break and he watched you swallow your sobs as you clutched his hand tighter. “That’s okay,” you whispered, your voice desperate, barely more than a breath. “You loved me once, I could make you do it again. Tell me what to change and I’ll change for you, love.”
“I don’t care. I’m leaving.” He pulled his hand away, leaving you alone in your once shared bedroom. He still remembered the sounds of your sobs down the hallway as he walked out of your life.
Sukuna was always sure of himself that day he left you. He had said it so indifferently, so carelessly, as if he didn’t spend years being loved by you. He thought he moved on quite easily— bouncing from one woman to another, getting drunk on his own success, and wasting the rest of his twenties on meaningless connections. The hollowness of it all continued to haunt him.
It’s been half a decade trying to ignore the ache that has been gnawing at his heart. And it wasn’t until he saw you again did the gravity of his actions finally catched up to him.
It was supposed to be your anniversary and Sukuna finds himself pathetically walking into the places you once walked with him. He claimed he forgot about you but his feet always drag him to the remnants of you every year, without fail. He convinced himself it was just a mere coincidence that he walked to the same park where he first hugged you, how you fit right into his arms like you were made exactly for him. He finds himself dining in the restaurant you love so much, and he wonders if you still go there to order your favorite food.
He didn’t want to lay on his bed because he would think about how you used to run your hands through his hair when he’s upset or stressed. He would think about the warmth and comfort radiating out of you when he pulls you closer to him.
He told himself he had forgotten about you when he still hadn't thrown away the polaroid of the two of you, smiling softly as you kissed his cheeks. It was still in his wallet and he never bothered to change the photo. He remembers the way you clung to his arm, excitedly pointing out the changing leaves as autumn envelops the weather. He called you an idiot but you scrunch your nose at him and pulled him to a kiss. He remembers you dragging him into a movie theater to watch a cheesy romantic comedy. He got bored midway but he stayed anyway because he didn’t like seeing the pout on your face.
And he couldn’t rid what you had left him despite not taking any of your belongings when he left. He finds you in his morning coffee, how he drinks it with creamer and sugar because you told him it tasted better. He still gets your favorite laundry detergent every time he shops and he still folds his shirts the way you taught him to.
He thinks of you every sunrise, you once told him it’s a privilege to see the sun come alive right before your eyes and he stays up until morning just so he could pretend he’s seeing it with you.
Why is he mourning over a person who is very much alive?
He lets himself wonder if you think about him too, if you’ve forgiven him. His hands itch to call you to apologize or to ask to see you. He stops himself every time.
In the first year of your break up, he scrolled through your social media accounts to catch a glimpse of your life. You blocked him on everything the following year.
He drowned himself in his vices once more to numb that void you left. And once the party’s over, he would return to his empty mansion, clutching the only relic he has of you— the sweater you left at his place. It didn’t have any traces of your favorite perfume anymore yet he still hung on to it. In those moments, he allowed himself to regret his decision.
What would his life turn out if he told you what was on his mind?
It finally dawned on him when he saw you that day. You were still as radiant and you were smiling just as bright. You still looked like the same woman he walked away from years ago. The same woman he still loves. Only, you looked happier, your joy evident in every step you took. Sukuna watched you emerge from your favorite cafe, holding your coffee in one hand, a ring on your finger. The sight sent a shiver down his spine.
In your arms, cradled tenderly, was a child. Sukuna knew without a doubt that he was yours, the same eyes that had once held his heart were now reflected in your son’s eyes. White strands adorned your son’s hair, and Sukuna suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe.
He had never entertained the thought that he would ever see you with someone who wasn’t him. But now, as he stood there, he couldn’t deny the fact that he had no place in your life anymore.
You had settled down and gotten married to none other than Gojo Satoru.
He watched as your husband approached you, whispering something in your ear that made you giggle and smile harder. He watched as Gojo brushes your hair out of your face, taking your son from your arms so he could hold your hand.
Sukuna watched as Gojo Satoru gave you everything he couldn’t.
It felt like the gods were mocking him. And oh how Sukuna knew he messed up when he saw how you looked at Gojo the way you used to look at him.
It was supposed to be him.
He turned and walked away again before you could see him, paying his last respect to your own peace and happiness. Every step he took felt like daggers into his heart.
It’s pathetic, isn’t it?
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wanna read more?
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kookslastbutton · 8 months ago
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Guilty Pleasures ༓ jjk, kth (m) | chapter iii
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✑ Summary: Three years of being Seoul's power couple earns you nothing but a big fat divorce settlement and your face plaster on every gossip column around town. You're angry, hurt, and desperately want to move on, but worst of all? You're still in love with the man who started the whole mess, even though the most he can ever see you as is a friend. The renowned actor you've hired to be your company's new endorser seems to have a soft spot for you though. He's easy on the eyes, you'll admit, but who actually wants a divorcee like yourself? It's unrealistic really.
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pairing: ex-husband ceo!jungkook x ceo!reader, actor!taehyung x ceo!reader (not poly)
genre/AU: angst, smut, fluff, loverstoexesto ?, coworkers2?, unrequited love
Word count: 5.3k+
Warnings: some time skips (none too huge), oc and jk are both 30, Taehyung is 32, swearing, lots of introspection, tornado of emotions, morally grey characters, mentions of toxic relationships, mentions of broken home/families, themes of abandonment, mention of love bombing, reoccurring nightmares, sleep paralysis, mentions of therapy, struggles of self-blame, regret, guilt, etc., mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of sexism in the media and business world, death (minor character), life-threatening accident (major character)
playlist: Unkiss Me, Apologize, Hate That I Love You, etc.
a/n: ANGST ANGST ANGST...don't say I never warned you hahaha. Anyway, once again, I had an amazing time writing this! (although nervous af 👉🏼 👈🏼) Just FYI, there are some time skips as this starts a few weeks after the gala! So to clarify, it’s now 3 months since oc’s divorce was officially finalized, as in done (the process itself took way longer). The chapter continues from there and yeah, the pace is picked up. Okay, let’s go! Enjoy! 🥰
series masterlist | next >>
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Fresh linen. Warm breeze. The smell and sound of the ocean.
You know this place too well, like a memory you hoped to have forgotten. Why are you here now? You glance around, taking in the familiar details—the blank ceiling above, the soft comforter that curls around your body like silk against your skin, and delicate rose petals scattered at the foot of the bed. It’s exactly as it was before — it feels exactly the same; too quiet, too peaceful, and too good to be true.
The sunlight streaming through the window is blinding, yet it draws you in with a force you can't resist. Carefully, you stand up, your feet meeting the cool wood floor, and you shiver. Each step you take towards the window feels heavier, like wading through water. When you reach the window, you see the sandy beach below, the waves beating rhythmically against the shore. It’s beautiful, but the painful kind.
To the left, a young couple, not much older than yourself, their hands tightly intertwined, as if afraid to let go. To the right, an older couple sitting further up the beach, comfortably silent as they take in the horizon, reminiscent of their many years together. You always dreamt of achieving the latter, yet here you stand, having neither, and the chances of ever obtaining it growing dimmer with each passing day.
For many, this was supposed to be a place of happiness, a symbol of love, promises, and new beginnings, but not for you. For you, it was a cocoon, trapping you in a deceptive comfort. You close your eyes, trying to steady your rapid breathing, yet it doesn’t prove to be of much help. Images from your past that you’ve tried blocking out of your mind time and time again suddenly resurface — the arguments, the tears, the feeling of everything and nothing at the same time.
“You’re up early,” His voice startles you, causing you to spin around in a panic. At that moment, your heart tightens in your chest, and a cold sweat forms on your brow. You thought you were alone. You’re certain of it. Yet the sight of your ex-husband standing only a few feet away, his hair still damp from his morning shower, is enough to leave you completely speechless.
"Why are you here?" you whisper, your voice trembling.
"Why are you here?" he counters, his dark eyes piercing into yours. "Isn't this what you wanted? To remember us, to remember how it felt to be together?”
What? This isn't making any sense. Why is he talking to you as if he were a ghost? Your eyes search frantically around the room until you spot it—the wedding band on his finger. No, not again. You hear yourself plead, but the words don't leave your lips. All at once, the room begins to feel smaller, the walls closing in on you. You're stuck in another manifestation of your past, this time reliving your honeymoon, three years ago in Greece.
"I didn't want this," you say, your voice barely audible. "I wanted to forget this."
"But you can't forget, can you?" he says, stepping closer. “You remember this view. You remember the floors and the walls. You remember that we had our first time together here and promised our devotion to each other."
“That’s not fair, Jungkook," you reply, taking a step back, "it's not fair at all, you left me. You don't get to patronize me like this."
“We both know our marriage came with stipulations, __. So when did I ever give you a reason to stay? Or to love me?”
You’re back in the bed, the sheets now suffocating rather than comforting. The sound of the ocean is louder, more insistent, drowning out your thoughts. You want to scream, to run, but you’re paralyzed by the fear, the guilt, the regret.
"This isn’t real,” you say to yourself, tears streaming down your face. “I’m dreaming, none of this is happening.”
“You can't escape what we had, or what we lost. We’ll always be here, together __, in this place,” he says softly, reaching out to touch your hand.
"No," you whisper, pulling your hand away. "I need to wake up. I need to let go...of you."
The room fades, his figure dissolving into the shadows. The sound of the ocean becomes a distant murmur as you fight to open your eyes. Wake up, please wake up. It's your own pleads chanting in your head. Finally, with a gasp, you awake, the nightmare diminishing like vapor.
“Fuck,” you curse, fingers gripping your sheets, “just another damn dream.” Rolling onto your back, you take a deep breath before reaching out for the glass of water on your nightstand. Its coolness soothes your dry throat. You reach for your phone next, checking the time—4:47 AM. Too early to start the day, too late to attempt falling back to sleep.
Your thumb hovers over Jimin’s name in your text threads. It would be 10 AM where he is. You consider sending a message, but you find yourself at a loss for words. Forget it, you lock your phone and rise from your bed, you’ll go for a walk instead. Yeah, it’s brisk outside, but the fresh air will help clear your mind.
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After tossing on your warmest coat and scarf, you head outside, the sun beginning to break over the horizon. At first, you wander aimlessly, lost in thought as you pass the odd person or two on the sidewalk. One individual accidentally knocks into you, yet he's quick to apologize. You easily understand their rush; perhaps they've just finished the night shift and are eager to reach the comfort of home.
You imagine their loved ones who must be waiting for them. You could be wrong, and maybe you're biased, but the image you depict is a future you once envisioned for yourself—one of laughter, love, and a warm family. It’s a dream you secretly carried as a child, amidst your unstable upbringing. But as the years passed, what was once a lifelong aspiration felt more and more elusive, slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. It seems, in the end, it was just a dream…nothing more.
Of course, you've achieved other goals instead, success in your career for one. It's what you wanted most the more you became an adult. Even before Jungkook came in the picture you were thriving. Yes, you needed investors to expand, but you had already made a strong name for yourself, hence the reason his company even reached out to you for a partnership in the first place.
The second, and more formidable goal you’ve achieved was saving your company. You built your business with an earnest heart, good morals, and an ambition to serve a community. You couldn’t let it all be washed out by a larger, greedier industry giant. You had to do something. Too bad your judgment was skewed the day you saw a similar ambition in Jungkook’s eyes; he was just as determined as you to save what was his.
For a while you got what you wanted, stability for your business. But you got too invested, too short-sighted to anticipate that one day, it would all feel hollow without someone proper to share it with. Alas, your prior hopes, the ones you thought were buried long ago, began returning to you as if they were an overwhelming tsunami.
You wanted warmth.
You wanted intimacy.
You wanted a home.
You sought companionship with Jungkook but no, you read the signs all wrong. Once you dropped the L word, his attentiveness towards you skyrocketed. He began calling you while you were apart, surprising you with little gifts, and setting more time aside so you could both take Bam to the dog park on free days. But then it all stopped. After months of showering you with attention, his efforts exhausted him, so he looked for the first exit out.
You remember getting the text one afternoon— When will you be home tonight? We need to talk about something. Selfishly, you hoped he was going to tell you that you could take that trip to Fiji together. You had been hinting at it for the last two weeks. Of course, you were wrong because the last time you checked, trip itineraries didn’t come with divorce papers. At that moment, you realized that Jungkook didn’t try to love you in the slightest, he tried loving at you; love bombing 101. Your ties are now completely severed.
Yesterday marked three months since your divorce was finalized. You didn’t cry like you thought you would, but you did meet with Melody that day. As your therapist, she offered you her empathy, validation, and perspective. You feel you’ve gotten better since you started meeting with her, finally beginning to heal. Yet the unsettling dream that haunted your sleep last night shows you there are many things still left to resolve, feelings you need to confront, but where to start?
You love your ex-husband, but why?
Can it even be called love?
And do you really need him to love you back?
While you can only offer fragments of an answer for the first two, you seem to have a better-formed answer for the last.
No, you don’t need Jungkook to love you. He’s proven to you time and time again that you are not the one he can bear his heart to. He’s always reiterating that he wants you to find someone else, someone more deserving of you, whatever that means. Likely, it’s all projection. Out of the two of you, he’s the one more likely to re-marry.
As for you, you’ll always love him, at least a semblance of it. After all, he was once a part of you. But what was once a part of you, doesn’t need to be anymore. You have to let him go...though you wish you didn't have to.
You continue walking straight until you find yourself drawn to a small park overlooking the city skyline. It's fairly empty, with only a few people nearby. As you settle onto a weathered bench, you take in the view before you. It stretches endlessly. Sunrises have always held a special place in your heart—the amber glow breaking through the abyss of darkness as if a beacon of hope.
"You'll get through this __," you reassure yourself, “one day at a time.”
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“Happy six months, boss!”
A goofy, boxy smile graces the man’s lips as he leans against the doorframe of your office. You take in his appearance: crème-colored sweater paired with dark brown slacks, the fabric impeccably tailored to his tall, lean frame. His ebony hair is perfectly parted down the center and feathered out to either side of his face, giving him a soft, approachable look. The glasses are new though, round with a hint of gold. Though a minor accessory, they seem to tie the rest of the look together.
Classy, yet cozy, you hum silently, it suits him.
Everything about the way he’s dressed today complements his features—not that it could be any other way, as Taehyung could never not look good in something. You learned that the hard way when you opted against a gaudy shirt and pant set your stylists suggested he wear for a commercial. Taehyung, being a free spirit, decided to try it on for kicks, and yeah, it strangely worked. He ended up shooting the entire commercial with it on. That video’s gotten your business the highest engagement rate across all your media platforms to this day.
“Mr. Kim, does six months of working together really merit a celebratory drop-in?” You lean back in your desk chair, arms folded as you narrow your eyes at the man. You're taunting him, not that he minds.
“Please,__,” he starts, stepping further into the room, his presence effortlessly filling the space. “The only person that still calls me that is the intern who works on set with us. Makes me feel old, like I’m double my real age.”
“Well, you are older than both of us.”
Taehyung gives you the look, a mix of amusement and mild aggravation.
“Two years is hardly considered older, but if you’re done trying to prod me, I’d like to ask you a series of serious questions.”
“Okay, what?” You straighten your back, curious to know what he’s thinking.
“Red or white wine?” He waits for your response, eyes seemingly hopeful. You're unsure where he's going with this, so you delay your response, suspicious of the spontaneity of the inquiry.
“Red,” you respond, cautiously. Taehyung seems pleased.
“Strawberries or blueberries?”
“Strawberries, though I prefer cherries most."
“Science or literature?"
"Literature." You surprise him with this one. "I like books, vintage ones."
"Do a lot of reading in your spare time?" he asks.
"When I get some, yes."
"Me too. Tolstoy?"
"Occasionally," you answer. "Where are you going with this, Taehyung?"
He shrugs. "Just making conversation." He pauses before continuing, “I also happen to know a place that offers all those things plus private bookings. How about you and I go for dinner tonight, as colleagues? If you hate the wine, I’ll drink it for you.”
The weight of his request hits you like a ton of bricks. Apart from a handful of social events, you and Taehyung haven't exactly mingled outside of the office. His sudden invitation to go out for dinner takes you by surprise, especially considering the nature of your professional relationship. However, you can't deny the subtle shifts in his behavior, the way he's been checking in on you more often, especially since the Winter Gala. Weeks have passed since then, but, no doubt, the memory of that night still lingers in both your minds—the shaming from a bitter business competitor, the unwanted press shining a light on your divorce, and your ex-husband who so easily approached you like it was nothing.
Taehyung suggested for you to slip away through the back door with him, offering to drive you home himself rather than leaving you with your limo driver. But you declined, feeling embarrassed that he wasn't merely a witness to the night's events, but also made to be a spectacle himself. You never wanted him to feel like he had to pity you or coax you through your personal trials. Being a good colleague is one thing, but he didn't need to go above and beyond.
“I don’t know if I can join you tonight, I'm sorry. I have a lot to do,” you say, your voice wavering slightly. It's not far from the truth with the mountain of business reports and budget plans to look over. Though your business remains functioning, it's a lot to maintain, especially with the number of investors having withdrawn their support once news got out about your marital separation. It's unfortunate how much a person's situation and the things they've built can change on someone else's dime.
“You sure?" Taehyung tries again, careful not to sound pushy. "The place isn’t overly posh, but we could go elsewhere if you’d prefer."
“I’m sorry, Taehyung, maybe another time?” you say, fingers fidgeting with a few documents on your desk, a nervous habit you developed ages ago. “I-"
“I understand,” he says, his expression softening, a hint of disappointment flickering in his eyes before he masks it with a gentle smile. "I have a film shoot that might go late anyway. Speaking of which, I'm expected on set in about half an hour so I'm going to head out, but if you change your mind, you know how to reach me."
You nod, recalling having his contact in your phone. The two of you agreed it would be easier to coordinate meetings and schedules this way. "I will, thank you. Good luck with your filming."
As you watch him leave, a twinge of guilt tugs at your conscience. Perhaps you shouldn't have dismissed him so quickly, considering how insistent he seemed. It's as if he was genuinely looking forward to the affair.
No, you can't entertain it any further. You have no way of knowing how far the night might've led—it's best to leave Kim Taehyung alone.
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When you declined Taehyung's invitation to get dinner, you didn’t expect it to result in not seeing or hearing from him for the next week and a half. As an endorser, he doesn't work at the office regularly, coming and going as needed and since you hadn’t had any promotional projects for him recently, his absence seemed normal at first.
But this was Kim Taehyung. The same Taehyung who loved making spontaneous visits to the company, especially towards the end of the week. He often came in once, twice, sometimes three times a week to talk with Namjoon, your secretary, in particular. Somehow, the pair had become friends, and since Namjoon’s desk was near yours, Taehyung would drop by whenever he saw your door open. So, not hearing from him for 11 days straight was strange, like he'd vanished.
It was now Friday evening, the clock pushing 5 pm. You consider texting him to make sure he's okay, but wouldn’t that be hypocritical? You had agreed with yourself to leave him alone. Maybe he was on vacation, perhaps at a vineyard, or had taken on another film project. Being a highly talented actor, Taehyung had no shortage of casting directors contacting him for their movies and TV shows.
Embarrassingly, you hadn’t actually seen any of his movies. You enjoyed a good rom-com now and then, like the ones Taehyung starred in, but you usually opted for something more mindless when you had the time to watch anything.
You can imagine the loyal following he has though, as Taehyung was the epitome of a "dream boat" with his natural good looks and expressive eyes. He must be good at kiss scenes, which must be especially difficult for anyone dating him. You know you'd have a hard time accepting it at least, the fact that your flawless actor boyfriend was off making out with equally beautiful co-stars on set, that is. Anyway, as your endorser, maybe you should try supporting his films a bit more. There had to be one that would catch your eye.
Curious, you open a new tab on your phone and search for him.
"Holy fuck," the curse leaves your lips the minute the search returns. Dozens of articles display on your phone screen at once, all covering South Korean actor Kim Taehyung's recent motorcycle accident. You checked the publishing date—six hours ago. “Taehyung’s in the hospital. He’s in the fucking hospital!”
Panicked, you leave your office to speak with your secretary.
“Ms. __,” Namjoon greets you immediately, a trace of hesitation in his tone upon seeing your frazzled state. “Is everything alright?”
“Joon,” you refer to him by his pet name, “Did you know that Taehyung’s in the hospital?”
“What?” He seems as shocked as you, his eyebrows shooting up in alarm.
“It happened this morning around eleven or something. It was a collision, a motorcycle accident. Oh god, he’s—he’s been taken to the ER,” you choke out the words, struggling to maintain your composure as you try recalling one of the articles you skimmed. “We have to go. I have to go right now.”
“I’m coming with you.” Namjoon leaps from his chair, grabbing his keys from his desk drawer. “I’ll drive.”
“No,” you stop him, “I don’t know how long this’ll be and you usually work until 5:30, so I don't want you to have to be stuck at the hospital with me. I want you to be able to call it an early night if you want. We'll take separate cars over.”
“Okay,” he nods. “I’ll meet you over there then?”
“Yeah.” You nod back, clutching your keys harder in your palm. “Yeah, sounds good.” You turn around to head for the nearest exit, but your secretary stops you mid-step.
“__,” he calls you by your name, having known you for the past decade permits him to do so. He softens his eyes when he sees the worry in your own clear as day. “He’s gonna be okay. We have to believe that. Please drive safe.”
“You too,” you say, then disappear from his sight.
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When you arrive, it’s a madhouse. Sirens blare as ambulances rush into the hospital parking lot, doctors and nurses race from room to room, and fans—so many fans—crowd outside, all waving signs of comfort and support.
“I'm here to see Kim Taehyung,” you say urgently to the charge nurse. She recognizes you immediately and throws you a look of distaste, but you’re too focused on the emergency at hand to care. “I’m sure you know who I am, but I need to see him. We work together, we're colleagues.”
“Ms. __,” she replies, surprisingly calm and collected amidst her obvious dislike of you. “I’m afraid he’s currently receiving serious medical attention and won’t be able to have any visitors at the moment.”
“I’ll wait,” you blurt out the words faster than you anticipate. You feel like you're eating your words from earlier about leaving him alone, but this is different—his life is on the line. "I can wait for him.”
“Visiting hours are only until 8 pm. I really don’t think—”
“Please,” you interrupt, your voice stern and urgent. “He's part of my team. He's my...friend. I have to know if he’s okay.”
The nurse hesitates, her expression softening slightly as she sees the genuine concern in your eyes. “Alright,” she finally says, her tone firm but kinder. “You can wait in the family lounge, but I can’t promise you’ll be able to see him anytime soon."
“Thank you,” you say, relief flooding through you. She directs you to a quiet room down the hall, away from the commotion where you're better able to calm your racing thoughts. You find a seat in the far corner immediately and send a quick text to Namjoon, letting him know where you are.
As you wait, the minutes drag by painfully slow. You can’t stop replaying the articles in your mind from earlier, the words “motorcycle accident” echoing like a mantra. How did this even happen? How bad was his condition? How much strain is this going to put on his acting career? You wish you knew.
A handful of nurses enter the lounge occasionally, calling out names and providing updates, but none of them are Taehyung’s. You find your ears burning every time the door opens, heart racing, only to sink back into your seat when it’s not about him.
Finally, you catch sight of Namjoon, his face mirroring your concern. He spots you immediately and rushes over, taking a seat in the chair beside you. “Any news?” he asks, his voice low and urgent.
“Not yet,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. “They said he’s receiving serious medical attention and don't know when we'll be able to see him. We have to leave by 8.”
Namjoon nods, his expression grim but unwavering “We’ll wait together.”
"If you need to leave sooner than—"
"I know," he interrupts. "I appreciate it, but please let me be here too."
You sit in silence from then on, exhaustion beginning to weigh heavy on both your shoulders. It's not until 7:35 when a doctor walks into the lounge, his tired eyes scan the room until they land on you and Namjoon.
“Are you here for Kim Taehyung?” he asks. "I'm Dr. Min."
You nod, your heart in your throat.
“He’s stable for now,” Dr. Min explains, “but he's still in critical condition. We’re doing everything we can.”
“Can we see him?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.
He sighs. “Only for a few minutes. And you need to be prepared—he’s heavily sedated and has sustained significant injuries.”
“I understand,” you reply, mentally preparing yourself for what’s to come.
Dr. Min leads you through a maze of hallways until you reach the ICU. As you enter Taehyung’s room, the sight of him hooked up to machines and covered in bandages nearly breaks you. You take a deep breath and step closer, Namjoon right next to you.
“Taehyung,” you whisper, but he remains motionless, his breathing steady and rhythmic. The severity of his injuries is evident in the way he lies.
“We're here, Taehyung,” Namjoon continues, noticing your slightly frozen state. “We’re both here for you. Please, fight through this. You and I, we're good pals, remember? Like brothers. You have to—"
Although the more collected one before, Namjoon begins to struggle with his words. You place a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. Having known him for 10 years, you know that despite his strong exterior, he has one of the softest souls you know.
"I think I have to go, __. It'll be better if I see him when he's awake. I want to stay longer, but I just don't know if I can."
"I understand, we can't stay much longer anyway. Go home and get some rest. Dr. Min will call us when he's awake and able to talk."
After you give him a hug, Namjoon leaves the room, leaving you alone with Taehyung. You end up pulling up a chair beside his bed and slowly reach out to touch his hand. It's instinctive for you, the need to feel his heartbeat overpowering any other thought.
"I'm so sorry this happened to you, Taehyung," you start, your voice a mere murmur. "You'll push through this, right? Like in the movies you film. I confess I haven't seen any of them yet, but—but I will! That's how I found out about all this actually. We hadn't seen you for nearly two weeks, so I searched you up. Not in a weird way though, okay? Not like...anyway, I'm sorry I said no to you that day. When you asked to go for dinner, it threw me off. This whole thing with my ex-husband just has my mind in fifty million directions, so I promise it wasn't you. I hope you didn't think that."
"You've always seemed to show up for me, whether it's for the good of the company or even a little emotionally in some aspects. With the reputation I have these days, I'll always be grateful that you chose to work with me. You have a good heart, Taehyung, so much that I think if we ever got close, I think it might be unbearable for me," you pause, a couple of tears slipping down your face.
Just then, a creaking of the room's door momentarily pulls your attention away. Dr. Min stands a few feet away, clearing his throat—a gentle but firm signal that it's time for you to leave.
"I have to go soon, but I'll be back tomorrow, okay? Even if you're still asleep or not, I'll stop in and sit with you for a while because...because I need to be sure that you'll be alright. Namjoon will come see you too when he's ready. But I'll see you in the morning, alright Kim?"
You squeeze Taehyung's hand gently before heading out of the room, thanking the medical staff along the way.
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When you get home, the first thing you do is head straight for the bathroom. Your whole body feels riddled with stress and exhaustion, and you know that the only thing that can offer even the slightest amount of solace is the warmth of water.
Yet not four minutes after immersing yourself in your tub does your phone ring, demanding your attention. Being this late into the evening, you figure it has to be Jimin.
But you're wrong.
When you reach to answer the call, it's actually an unrecognizable number that's flashing on the screen. You hesitate for a moment, debating whether to answer or let it go to voicemail.
"Hello?" you answer cautiously, curiosity getting the best of you.
There's a brief pause on the other end before his voice comes through, words slightly muddled. "Hey, it's me," he says, his tone soft. "I've been...I've been thinking about my life, you know? About everything.
"J-Jungkook?" Your heart sinks as you quickly decipher the owner of the voice, but then it hardens. It's obvious from the slurring of his words that he's been drinking. "Why on earth are you calling me? And at this godforsaken hour too."
"I told you...I've been thinking about my life."
"I'm hanging up."
"No, please, stay on the line for five minutes. Please, I have to tell you...what I've been thinking."
"You have three minutes," you sigh, ready for anything (except what he was about to spring on you).
"I wanted to save my company," he continues, his voice wavering slightly. "For my mom's sake, you know? My dad owned it and stuff but she was the one who was behind all the technology...and that's why I married you. You...reminded me of her."
Your breath catches in your throat as he reveals the truth behind his actions, the raw honesty of his words hitting you like a punch to the gut. You knew very little of Jungkook's mother, too, as he didn't speak of her often.
"And then...then there's the real reason I divorced you," he admits, his voice breaking slightly. "My parents had a terrible marriage, you know? My mom...she had to manage my dad's temper for years...he didn't love her at all. He just married her because she was smart and could make him rich. It made her so unhappy, but you know she loved him so much. She...she passed away when I was 16, and...and I didn't want that for you. I didn't want you to be trapped like she was, because I'm like my dad you know? My feelings are...weird... I never know what the hell I'm...feeling. I'm probably not making a lot of sense am I?"
"I'm trying to understand." You want to hang up here and now but every time he speaks, you cant bring yourself to do it. The pain in his voice cuts through you like a knife, and it's a side of him that you've rarely seen before.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice thick with regret. "I'm sorry for being such a dumbass that day I got my stuff. That was like, six months ago and I still hate myself for it. I shouldn't have made an advance on you like that. I was...I was immature, and I wasn't thinking."
"After the gala," he continues, his words becoming more coherent as he speaks. "I...I felt even more guilty, you know? Because, I still have a photo of you and Bam on my dresser. It's small, but I've tried to put it away over and over and over again, but I can't do it. I don't know what's wrong with me...it's almost a year since we lived under the same goddam roof and I can still smell your perfume, I can still remember how you laugh with both your lips and your eyes...the way you scrunch you nose when—"
"What are you trying to say Jungkook?" You interrupt. "That you're sorry and can't get me out of your head, so you need my forgiveness to move on?"
"No! That's...that's not it at all. I mean, I do want your forgiveness but—"
"Well, what the fuck is it?" You hate how aggressive your voice is sounding, but the obscene amount of incoherent information he's revealing to you is overwhelming. "It's 10 freaking pm at night, I had a long day, I'm sleep deprived, and Taehyung's in the fucking hospital which is so distressing, so I'm sorry, but I can't handle any more of your cryptic messages!"
"I think I might love you," he finally says, his voice raising as well. "I know I'm...I'm being a dumbass, but I...I think I love you. I love you __, fuck!"
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a/n: So....how are we feeling about Jungkook rn? Also, my darling Taehyung is taking one for the team here 😭 🤍 LMK what you think! Lastly, I understand the timeline of events is a bit tricky to follow, so if it helps I can put something in the series masterlist to help. Vote for jjk or kth!
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side note: I tried tagging readers in comments but most of them didn't go through, so i'm sorry about the clutter here...😬
no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton
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skay-ali · 14 days ago
Text
The Forgotten Daughter
well I finally did it.
first of all merry christmas and enjoy the chapter
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Dear family
This may be sudden... I don't even know why I'm writing this letter anymore, it was supposed to be about the big decision I made that would change my life, but even so I don't know why I'm leaving explanations.
My plan was always to never see you again, each of you, I still feel very hurt by everything, although I know that these words will not make a big change in you.
But enough berating them, I'm not racking my brain to find the right words for a letter full of complaints.
I was always a girl who avoided problems or at least I like to think I was, Father, brothers and my dear confidant Alfred, despite getting into big trouble.
The lights were flashing brightly, the music at full volume filled the room, it was very hot due to the sweat that all the bodies were emanating, you watched all the visitors of the club go crazy with euphoria after a few drinks and continued with a long list of crazy things, you On the contrary, you decided that it was one of those depressive days, where you spent your time seeing the bad side of everything and being miserable.
You didn't follow your friends to any of their craziness; on the contrary, you stayed in a place at the bar away from everyone, along with a few glasses full of a low-grade cherry-flavored liquor.
You still taste the light cherry flavor on your palate. There were so many liquors on the shelf, many of different sizes, appearances, names, years and strengths, you wondered if anyone ever drank them all, if there was a person who in his miserable, boring, short life provokes every liquor on the restaurant's menu. bar.
You looked away when you heard the sound of a chair being moved, you saw a man taller than yours, with a somewhat abrupt but attractive appearance. You took another sip from your glass and returned to your thoughts as you watched the people on the dance floor doing stupid things.
Or so you tried, but by discreetly observing the actions of the man near your seat, it was enough to capture your full attention, to what that guy does in his notebook with his pencil.
“What an artist,” you addressed the subject sitting one seat away from you, “what are you doing in a place as crazy as this?” You turned your gaze to the man with blue-black hair, as you watched him take a sip of his drink and draw with his pencil.
Their eyes connected when the man decided to leave his world and pay attention to your beginning of interaction, he couldn't look away in time, although you didn't blame him, you did the same before because of the curiosity you felt when he saw him, you felt like everything was coming together.
He paused, just him and you, as if the two of you were the only ones in a large room of strangers.
A smile left your lips when you saw the man's dazed attitude, he was so lost in himself that it seems that he forgot about your beginning of conversation until a moment later.
Still, you were afraid that it wasn't nerves that the man was feeling but anger or annoyance at your interaction with him.
“Even if you don't believe it, inspiration can be found in unlikely places… Or even sometimes a muse” came those calm words from his thick but reassuring and animated voice.
You were relieved to hear him speak, but those words that had no sign of annoyance or complaints.
“uhh it's like that... I only saw this place as a garbage dump full of vices” you didn't know how you were still trying to maintain an interaction with that person, perhaps prolonging the feeling of company instead of the one of loneliness sounded more attractive.
“You should look at it from other perspectives, so you'll find things like this” you saw him tear a page out of his notebook without blinking and put it on your forehead.
You were surprised to see your drawing on the paper. Every feature of yours delicately captured with each stroke of the pencil on the paper.
“wow you left me speechless for a moment” you disconnected your gaze from the sheet you had in your hands.
“You are actually a great artist” the drawing was extremely beautiful, you never considered yourself a very beautiful woman, it was common for you to see all your flaws before your best qualities, seeing that paper where you felt that in that drawing you were perfect caused you a feeling emotion and a passing confidence.
However, you couldn't get it out of your head to see yourself drawn in other ways on paper, like a cartoon or Japanese version of yourself; before this moment, you never even had the chance to sit on a bench and wait for an artist to draw you. .
“What's wrong with that face, you look disappointed, maybe you're kidding me” you heard him joke.
“No no… no… on the contrary, I really like it” you quickly defended yourself, afraid of offending the man.
“It's just that..” you felt shy when explaining your reasons, especially when he had an attentive gaze on you.
You saw his eyes wait expectantly for your words.
“You know, the drawing is beautiful, but… even though it sounds silly, I wish I could see myself more in a cartoon or comic” you laughed nervously, after your babbling.
“ahh, are you a comic book lover or something?”
“Yes, well it's something like that” you liked to read some series in comic magazines from time to time, but you preferred mangas, you hid this preference, you weren't going to receive a few words of displeasure for that or start a debate about what genre it was.
Better, much less explain what they were if I didn't know what you were referring to.
“I think I can fix that,” the guy said with an animated and funny voice.
You watched him, fascinated, by how he held his book with enthusiasm, his hands moved quickly from one side to the other on the white sheet, the pencil was handled quickly, you could tell that he had a lot of experience with the ease with which he did it.
It was a long night, between different conversations and laughter with the new guy you met, the night became more tolerable with the man by your side.
Between drinks and meaningless talks, laughter on both sides, silly dances on the floor full of people, just two fools doing the most pathetic steps they had plus some little improvised old waltzes, it ended in a new day with two sleepless but falices talking in a viewpoint of a building that showed the entire city.
Oh, father, you don't know how enchanted I was with that man I met on one of my many outings to parties, I was stupid and childish, but I still allowed myself to dream and love.
You didn't expect to meet again with such a man with whom you managed to connect, but that's how it happened, destiny somehow led them to meet.
You liked having a new person in your circle, with whom you managed to get along so well.
From talking about his work as an artist, giving his opinion on different comics and mangas that they knew, talking about animation to becoming hoarse from speaking with so much emotion and passion with long monologues.
They visited many hidden places in the big city in their days of adventures, even if they were alleys that were not very crowded, now that you think about it, such a careless action was very crazy, but the beautiful places, with new views, like an alley full of colorful fabrics and with different designs that hung over the street, the walls of a neighborhood full of drawings with different artistic techniques, but with many bright colors, the tall buildings that showed views of the entire city.
The days of movies with crazy plots, but that had you glued to the screen to see what happened next.
The rare meals from the carts or street stalls, which they consumed without problems while they sat to observe the lights of the city or the dark sky, accompanied by silence, but the two of them together.
In that moment where the two were together and talking, you felt that they were exchanging many words of great importance to both of them, but seen from other perspectives they were nothing more than insignificant.
That's what love did, right?
And all for one crazy night where you hope to go crazy on alcohol, after sinking into a self-compose for your life.
You will never be able to forget when he gave you his name and you gave him yours... well, half of it, you admit to having lied to him, even if you regretted it, you already knew the problems they would bring you later.
Well at least that's what you thought, you had no idea of ​​the true consequences.
You only thought about the fear of telling him your real last name, that he would look for you and know who you really were, you were afraid that he would see you differently, no longer a strange girl he met in a bar, but the daughter of a millionaire with a history. questionable life, the mere thought of him using you was too much.
So you avoided him by mentioning the amazing last name “Wayne” and mentioning a fake one.
More specifically, that of your false identification, something crazy that you did in your wild adolescence was left to be useful in your future, that false identification that you made with your friends from school to visit different clubs, you used it when you became independent, so that no one It will bother you in your new life.
“_____ , _____ Jones” unsurely you stated your name, you still remember when you made the false identifications with your friends and among all of them you were looking for a new name and surname for the others, you kept your name and they gave you the last name of the protagonist of the book of fashionable at the time because of the film that adapted the story.
A mental chuckle caused you to remember this along with the taunts they threw at you about where your diary was.
“Kayle, Kyle Rayner,” the boy smiled as he introduced himself.
You followed his smile, something in his ended up infecting you. Just two fools in a bar telling each other their names and being ignorantly happy.
It's a shame that that happiness ended some time later, when you never saw Kyle again. Even with a card for him to contact you, you never heard from him.
You woke up happy, in his apartment, the day after spending a night together, alone, without any sign that the man was home, without any note or notice, you waited excitedly for him to return, but he never did, even when you left a message. letter and ways for me to contact you again if the ones they already had didn't work, you never knew anything.
Maybe it was all an adventure and you got carried away... they never clarified what they were, hell maybe he didn't even consider you a friend.
But you and I know, father, that all the fairy tales one creates end quickly, most of the time in the worst ways.
I ended up with a broken heart, still, I kept good memories... and her.
I know it is late, very late, as it has been for many years, but I must confess it, because no parents and siblings would want to know it in the worst possible ways….
Alice Wayne, my dear baby….
You leaned back in your chair as you wrote the last sentence, you did it, you wrote what was overwhelming you so much, the beginning of the letter.
Your eyes burned, a few treacherous tears running down your face.
Your family, your passing love and your beloved daughter always made you sensitive.
It wasn't something you could avoid.
You leaned your head on the headboard of the chair, letting all the blood flow to your head, something strange you used to do to clear your head, you looked at the ceiling and the walls around you upside down.
You noticed the crib on the side of the room near your desk where you were writing.
You saw your baby sleeping calmly, a peaceful face with no signs of discomfort, he was an angel.
Your little angel, and your light... you knew you would do anything for her, like you did right now.
I think if we are similar in some way father.
I ended up having a daughter through carelessness like you did to me.
I need to ask you a big favor father and not only of you but also of the whole family, the biggest and most important one I will do in my life.
If something happens to me... if I end up in big trouble or I no longer exist, any situation that prevents me from taking care of my beloved daughter.
Please watch over her.
Make sure she has the best future, a happy life with everything she needs, that she can grow up as a girl full of light, that she is always kind, wise and with a loving family.
If that's not something they can give you, find someone who can give it to you.
Take care of my treasure, my only happiness, my only family... I know I left a long time ago without saying anything and returned in a hurry to their lives.
Maybe one day they will call me selfish knowing the path I took to leave little Alice to them, the decision I decided to make was not easy, but I did it because I want the best for my little light.
We are all selfish and mean, I was all my life, since I knew that my happiness only depended on me, that I was alone in this world, that only oneself can save oneself.
I think I still am by thinking that I can force them to do something about my problem, I can't force them to take care of someone or take responsibility for a short period of time, turning their lives upside down.
But maybe... with all the love and affection that you could ever see felt for me, I can make you consider helping me and fulfilling my difficult request.
Father, brothers and Alfred... I never said it because of all the anger I felt, because of everything that happened in the mansion, which devastated my thoughts with a lot of anger, forgetting everything I had and made me have a comfortable and pampered life.
Thank you.
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Well, he's the father and maybe a future yandere, it's a possibility.
after an exhaustive investigation into possible characters to occupy this role in the series.
although there may be other possibilities with other characters....
Like I tried with the penguin's son, if ___ had decided to hang out more with villains and they adopted her or became her godparents.
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greenwitchfromthewoods · 3 months ago
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yes! love me some mortal x immortal??/god type couples, i think they're cute. It's always sad though when they realize one will outlive the other, unless they do some magical stuff to make the human live just as long or if maybe the god person turns into a human.
I think it'd be so cute for nymph reader to accidentally slip up again before her and marcus officially meet, but she's not quick enough to disguise herself or hide again before marcus sees her so he chases after her and then it's like love at first sight ❤️
Hi, sweetie.
Your idea inspired me to write this…. You can take this as a prologue to Nymph. I thought Marcus could be younger (maybe Javier Peña style?). I hope you like it.
Warnings:  fluff, some nudity, not much going on, mythological figures treated in a simple way
A/N: hope you will be gentle with me. your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes
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nymph. [prologue] l General Marcus Acacius
Nymph [masterlist]
For a moment he thought he was daydreaming. He had to, because his eyes had never seen anything more beautiful. 
All the glory of Rome, with all its provinces, with its cities of marble and gold, were nothing compared to what appeared before his eyes.
A being. A woman. Light and luminous like the rays of the sun, so different from what surrounded her, and at the same time seeming to fit there as if she had been created for this place.
He shouldn't be in this place. Marcus immediately felt as if he had sneaked into a temple where men were forbidden to stay, or as if he had spied on something that was supposed to be a closely guarded secret.
That day his legs carried him to these areas outside the camp. He didn't know why, as if the warm wind was pushing him for fun into the thicket of the forest. And when he stood behind a large and old oak tree, he saw the silver surface of the lake and her in front of him.
Beautiful as early morning, naked, sitting on the shore of the lake with her face turned towards the sun. He should have retreated and forgotten about it, but he couldn't help himself. 
He took a step forward, very quietly so as not to scare the woman away, but when he passed a blackberry bush, a wild bird got scared and flew out of the branches with a screech.
The girl heard this and immediately stood up abruptly. In the full sunlight, he saw her naked figure, standing proudly, although fear flickered in her eyes. She was like one of the statues in the temples.
Marcus raised a reassuring hand, approaching "Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you."
She didn't say anything. She only gave him an angry look and reached for the flowing robe that was lying on the nearby stones. The soft material wrapped around her body, hiding the beauty of her body from his eyes.
"Are you a goddess?" he asked.
You looked at him over your shoulder. "If I were a goddess, you'd be dead or blind for daring to watch me bathe, mortal." you mocked him.
"So maybe you're a mermaid?" He was already close to you.
The light robes glowed with their own light. It was hard for him to believe that you were real.
"A mermaid?" you laughed. "You really don't know much about the world, but you're sweet." you turned to him with a smile on your face. "I'm a nymph, soldier."
He watched you carefully. Brown, gentle eyes looked at you with reverence. Dark hair, strong body and sun-kissed skin. You've seen many men, this one was really handsome.
"My name is Marcus." His voice was pleasant, low and warm. "I'm Marcus Acacius. I command the Roman troops stationed nearby."
You nodded. "You're everywhere. Even here." you gave him your name though, and he repeated it as if he wanted to check how it tasted on his tongue. "You are not the General of these troops. You are too young." 
Marcus frowned dark eyebrows, arrogance flashing from his eyes "I am over thirty years old."
"Still young." you smiled gently and approached him "I am older than the oldest oaks of this forest, than the lake you are looking at." your hand moved over his chest hidden behind his clean, black armor "I knew the heroes of your myths, I served the gods you worship. You are still young, Marcus."
He couldn't take his eyes off you. Every move you made, every grimace, every smile, he wanted to remember it all. His heart was beating hard in his chest, you had to feel it.
"You mortals are truly funny." you continued, your hand sliding to the hilt of the sword at his side. "You confuse sirens with nymphs, you blame gods for your decisions, you call monsters those who weren't."
"Who do you mean?"
Your amused gaze traveled to his handsome face. "Like Medusa."
Marcus rolled his eyes and groaned. "That Gorgon? She was a monster with snakes instead of hair."
"She was a beautiful woman. Neptune possessed her in my lady's temple, which is why Minerva was angry. It was a sacred place." you replied, and although your words were strong, he didn't see the anger in your eyes. You were amused by the naivety of this soldier. "Don't judge a woman for the actions of a man, even if he's a god. She had every right to fly into a rage. Rome does the same, and you serve it. Remember the wrath of Medusa, Marcus."
Your fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword. A warm hand rested on yours. Marcus tilted his head slightly.
"If you want to disarm me, you have to give me something in return." he said, a small smile appearing under his dark mustache.
You raised your eyebrows slightly. "Oh, really? What's that?"
"A kiss. One small kiss." His soothing voice penetrated your heart. "Prove to me that you're real."
You considered his words for a moment. Your sisters had often told you about how sweet and handsome mortals tried to charm them just to possess their bodies. Marcus seemed different to you though. You didn't know why, but you liked him.
"That's a big ask." you said, lifting your chin proudly.
"That's also a request from a little boy, as you called me."
You shook your head in disbelief. His impudence was captivating. Finally, you nodded. With your free hand, you reached for his smooth cheek. The skin was warm, you felt his breath on your lips, you could almost hear his heartbeat. 
But it wasn't you who gave Marcus a kiss, it was he who stole it from you, pressing himself into your lips as if he wanted to taste the forbidden fruit at all costs. His hand slid into your hair and pulled you closer so that you wouldn't accidentally slip away from his lips. 
Warm, soft lips caressed yours, and as soon as you parted your mouth, Marcus took the opportunity and slipped his tongue in, deepening the kiss.
Your legs almost buckled under you. You'd never experienced anything like it. Your body gave in to each kiss, wanting more and more. The solid hilt of the sword in your hand provided your only stability. 
Eventually, however, Marcus had to draw his breath. It was at that moment that you drew his sword in one fluid movement and took a few steps back.
"You are too careless for a Roman soldier." You declared, raising his sword towards him.
"You can stab me with it, my sweetest." He replied, his eyes shining in ecstasy. "My life is complete now, I can die."
"You don't know what you're saying."
"My life is a blink of an eye to you. To me, you are equal to the gods."
He noticed your eyes widen, your chest heaving in a sharp breath. The blade trembled, too heavy for your unskilled hand. Marcus caught it and pulled you to him.
When his hand rested on your cheek you let go of his sword, which fell softly onto the grass. His touch was warm, gentle, tender. For a moment you thought that he couldn't be mortal, he had too much power over you.
"How can I live without being able to taste your lips every day?" he asked "Do something about it, or I'll go mad..."
"Your life is a blink of an eye to me..." you whispered feeling his lips brush the corner of your mouth "I'll have to live until the end of the world hungry for your warmth."
You let him experience the taste of your lips again. And Marcus seemed insatiable with you. Strong arms held you tightly, protecting you from sinking to the ground. It lasted maybe minutes, maybe hours. 
Marcus spent the whole afternoon with you, talking and listening, laughing and feasting his eyes on the sight of you. His heart was filled with feelings he couldn't name. 
However, his life called him to fulfill his duties to the Empire. He reluctantly reached for his sword.
"Will you be here tomorrow? I want to see you again."
You looked at him with tenderness. "I will be. And I will wait for you."
"Promise me."
"I promise."
He kissed your hands with reverence, feasted his eyes on your sight one last time, and then disappeared into the darkening forest, leaving you full of feelings unknown to you.
"My dear child..."
A familiar, calm voice floated to you from nearby. You felt a warm breeze and soon Minerva, your lady, stood by your side. Her armor gleamed in the last rays of the setting sun.
"I didn't think mortals could be like this." You said, staring at the place where Marcus had disappeared. "No one warned me about this..."
"A great future awaits him. His destiny must be fulfilled." the goddess spoke gently.
"Marcus will do great things. Many lives are already tied to him..." your voice broke, tears welling up in your eyes "My lady..."
Minerva looked at you softly, her eyes full of infinite wisdom. No one and nothing could hide from her.
"Take this from me." you whispered, with each word your heart shattering into pieces "Take from me what doesn’t belong to me. Take him."
"Do you know what you are asking, child?" Minerva's face was gentle but determined "You don’t know his full destiny. This mortal loves you, his heart is pure. He will come here tomorrow, for you."
"My lady, we are not destined for what we both desire... And I don't want to watch life slip away from his eyes. Please..." tears were already running down your cheeks, but you didn't feel ashamed, it only proved what you felt "Please make him forget about me and take him out of my head too. It was a beautiful day, but I don't want to take away what is destined for him..."
"Are you sure? Will you deprive yourself of this love?"
You nodded. This decision was painful, but you couldn't do otherwise. Marcus was supposed to have a bright future, full of victories and glory. There was no place for you there.
"Let it be so, child." the goddess's hand, hot as the sun's rays, touched your cheek, Minerva leaned down and her lips brushed your forehead "Forget it, it is my will. Let this feeling fly away from you if it is not meant for you. And tomorrow, when he opens his eyes at dawn, he will no longer remember what happened here. May destiny be fulfilled." 
When the first rays of sunlight crept lazily into the camp tent, Marcus rubbed his eyes and stretched on the bed. A strange feeling of emptiness and loss filled his heart. He had the impression that he had lost something precious, something that he would never get back.
nymph. [1/2] l General Marcus Acacius
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honeydazai · 10 months ago
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ok ok but hubby Fyodor gave me an idea, he’s figured out i get worried when his anemia gets bad so i fuss over him
imagine like,,, him using that against u. like if he’s losing an argument, or he just wants attention, he fakes sickness to get u to drop everything ur doing and come to his aid, u immediately feel bad so he uses that to manipulate u
feat.: Fyodor / reader
content: husband Fyodor, some manipulation but it's cute, Fyodor pretending to be a pathetic meow meow, fluff, sick fic
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Fyodor is fragile, that much you're aware of.
Despite his quick mind, so sharp you reckon it could cut diamond, and his powerful ability, his physical body is still frail. His skin is pale, most likely since he spends too much time inside, hunched over in front of his many PC screens, providing him with no light other than the gloom of LED monitors, thin fingers tip-tapping away on the keyboard. His undereye circles are dark enough for you to seriously worry about his health, and the many blue veins visible on thin eyelids only make him appear more sickly.
The anemia doesn't help, either; thin lips occasionally turn whiteish the longer he insists he's going to take his iron supplements once he's done with work — when is he, ever? — and his nails, kept short not only for the sake of being able to play the cello, but also since he continued biting at them, are coloured blue so often you have almost forgotten what they usually look like.
Fyodor, despite being an internationally wanted terrorist, is fragile, and that's exactly why you're unable to stop the way your chest suddenly aches with concern when he goes quiet mid-argument, gaze unfocused, glassy, as he sits down on the bed.
This really isn't the time to worry about him, especially since, just a few moments ago, you were snarling at him, obviously angered for a reason that seems entirely unimportant right now — and yet you can't help it either, your concern an emotion that blooms in your chest so very naturally, given just how much he means to you.
“Are you alright?” The words leave your mouth before you know it; your brows furrowing as you kneel down next to him, one hand on his thin upper arm. Even through the fabric of his shirt, his skin is cold. “Do you need anything?”
“I'm quite alright, dear. I would hate to bother you, especially when you still seem to harbour disdain for me.”
Even his voice sounds frail. Guilt gnaws at your every bone.
“That's not—”, you protest, a feeble attempt, though you're quick to swallow the urge to start another argument down the moment he rests his head against the wall, eyes fluttering shut, ebony lashes against snow pale skin. “I don't 'harbour disdain' . I didn't even want to fight with you, it just — happened, but that's not important now. Let me help. Did you take your meds today?”
“Not yet, I'm afraid”, Fyodor says softly, and you're up on your feet almost immediately, making your way towards the kitchen to snag the offending pills, as well as a glass of water.
“You know you're supposed to take them daily with lunch.”
“That is merely to avoid forgetting them, to build a habit. The presence or absence of sustenance has no actual effect on them.”
Your eyes narrow. Fyodor allows a tired chuckle to leave his lips.
“Alright. I will try to take them regularly — for you, dear.”
Where, just a few minutes ago, you felt the urge to slap him with wrath — not that you ever would, not that you'd dare to, but the desire certainly is there whenever he acts all high and mighty, all-knowing, even around you —, your chest now tingles with warmth, with fondness. With love.
“Thank you. Are you feeling better already?” That's to be doubted, especially since he only took the pills a moment ago. Still— “Do you need anything? Maybe something to eat — yes, I bet you haven't eaten anything in a while now, too focused on work. You're impossible. Just lie down and give me a moment, I'll be right back.”
With those words, you vanish into the kitchen, already grabbing some vegetables. A quick soup is going to have to do.
Little do you know that, while you're busy worrying and fussing over him, there's a smile playing over Fyodor's lips ever so often, vanishing the moment you enter the room once more.
You really are too easy — though that's exactly what makes you quite this lovable.
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OH. Oh, he would.. he so would... this is the most in character take ever...
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