#knowing my writing makes u feel fluffy makes ME feel fluffy thank u ���

[cloudss-space]

hi!! i know this isn’t the type of thing you normally write but i thought i’d offer up a fluff prompt…. carnival date with ronin! feel free to skip over this, as always love ur work and everything u do to feed us it is much appreciated 🫶🫶🥹

Cotton Candy

( killer chat ) ronin x reader ... fluff ...

author's note: hello !! i am happy to hear that you like my works ! thank you for this prompt as I hope that this comes out to your liking !! i've tried to make it as fluffy as i can ! enjoy <3

trigger warnings:

none

The day began with sunlight spilling through your window, its golden beams painting your room in hues of warmth and promise. You felt a quiet anticipation as you sifted through your wardrobe, the soft rustle of fabric in your hands. Outside, the world hummed with life, but in this moment, you were alone, with only the faint scent of morning air filtering through the open window.

Ronin leaned casually against the doorframe, his presence both casual and commanding. His sharp eyes scanned the clothes you were pulling apart, his smirk a permanent fixture that always seemed to say he was half-amused and half-serious. "You're overthinking it," he teased, his voice low, gravelly, and affectionate. "We're going to a carnival, not the Met Gala."

You shot him a look, half-annoyed but mostly charmed, and he chuckled, stepping into the room. He moved with an ease that suggested practice, his confidence filling the space. "Here," he said, reaching past you to pluck a simple outfit from the rack. "This. It's comfortable, cute, and it's not at all try-hard."

His fingers brushed yours as he handed you the clothes, creating a palpable spark between you. You took the clothes, the fabric soft against your palms. "You think this works?" you asked, glancing at him. He tilted his head, appraising you like a critic. "Trust me," he said, his smirk deepening. "I'm a man of impeccable taste."

You rolled your eyes, but a smile crept onto your lips. As you slipped into the outfit, Ronin adjusted the small details—rolling up the cuffs of your sleeves just enough, straightening the hem, and brushing a strand of hair from your face. His hands were steady, his movements deliberate but unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world for you.

The mirror reflected you and him: you were nervous but glowing, and he was confident but with a hint of mischief in his eyes. "See?" he said, stepping back to admire his handiwork. "Perfect." The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and for a moment, you could only nod, your cheeks warm under his gaze.

As you grabbed your bag and prepared to leave, Ronin offered his arm with a confident flourish. "Shall we?" he asked, his grin wide and inviting. You laughed, linking your arm with his, and together you stepped out into the sunlight. The world felt brighter, sharper, as if it had been waiting just for this.

The car ride to the carnival felt like an escape, wrapped in the hum of the engine and the low thrum of music leaking from the speakers. Ronin's hand was on the steering wheel and the other propped against the open window, his dark hair being tousled by the evening breeze. His posture radiated a careless confidence that made it clear he belonged anywhere, especially beside you.

Outside, the sky was changing, the sun setting and turning the sky pink and orange. The colours mirrored the warmth in your chest, a quiet excitement bubbling just below the surface. Ronin glanced at you, catching the way the light played across your face, and smirked, his eyes sharp but full of unspoken affection. "What are you thinking about?" he asked, his voice cutting through the quiet like a warm blade.

"Nothing," you said, though your smile gave you away. He arched an eyebrow, a knowing expression tugging at his lips. "Sure," he drawled, dragging the word out. "You've got that look. Like you're plotting something."

You laughed, the sound light and effortless in the small space of the car. The air between you was easy, punctuated by the occasional sound of Ronin tapping his fingers against the steering wheel in time with the music. It was a song you didn't recognise, something soft but steady, the kind of melody that feels like a heartbeat when you're paying attention.

The stuffed bear from the carnival was still a promise, but Ronin's teasing was well underway. "You're gonna make me win one of those ridiculous prizes, aren't you?" he asked, his smirk widening. "I can feel it. You've got that look in your eye."

"And what if I am?" you shot back, grinning. He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Guess I'll just have to show you how it's done. You can't have me walking around empty-handed, now can I?"

The banter was easy, the kind of back-and-forth that came naturally with him. Even the silences felt full, the weight of the moment wrapped in the faint scent of his cologne and the warm, fading sunlight spilling through the windshield.

At a red light, he turned to you fully, his hand leaving the wheel to rest on the console between you. His gaze was steady, a flicker of mischief dancing in his dark eyes. "You excited?" he asked, his voice softer now, less teasing.

You nodded, your heart skipping a beat at the way he looked at you — like you were the only thing in the world worth focusing on. "Yeah," you said, your voice quieter but no less sure. "I think it's going to be fun."

He grinned, the edges of his smirk softening. "Good," he said, returning his hand to the wheel as the light turned green. "I like seeing you happy."

The rest of the drive was a blur of fading daylight and winding roads, the carnival's bright lights growing more vivid on the horizon as the sky darkened. Ronin tapped his fingers against the wheel again, the rhythm in sync with your heartbeat. This moment—this car ride, this anticipation—was its own kind of magic.

You arrived just as the air was filled with the distant hum of the carnival. Ronin pulled into the gravel lot, the tyres crunching as he found a space. He turned off the engine, the sudden quiet filling the space between you.

He looked at you, his smirk returning as he reached for the door handle. "Ready?" he asked, his voice steady but carrying that edge of excitement you'd grown to love.

You nodded, holding the small bag in your lap as you stepped out into the cool evening air. Ronin came around the car, his hand brushing yours as he guided you toward the glowing lights of the carnival. "Come on," he said, his voice low and warm. "Let's make tonight unforgettable."

The scent of cotton candy envelops you like a sweet, airy embrace, an ephemeral wisp of nostalgia drifting on the breeze. It's the smell of a carnival long past, the echoes of laughter mingling with the bright, spinning colors of memory. Close your eyes and you'll be transported back to a world where everything felt magical and infinite, the future as soft and undefined as the sugary strands.

The scent is delicate yet unmistakable, a perfume spun from sugar and dreams. The sweetness is almost tangible, like sunlight filtering through candy-colored clouds. It is not overwhelming; it invites you closer with a siren's call that promises nothing but indulgence and fleeting delight. The scent is light, almost weightless, like a song you can only half remember. There's a faint hint of warmth, as though the sugar itself has captured the sun's glow. There's a brightness to it, an effervescence that speaks of summer afternoons and the rustle of paper cones cradling pastel swirls.

Inhale and the sweetness will hit you, filling your senses. It's not just sugar—it's the memory of sticky fingers and carefree laughter, of running through a sea of people with stars in your eyes. The scent carries a faint trace of caramel, warm and inviting, a golden undertone to the airy sweetness above. The scent is pure and innocent, like a child. Its simplicity is a reminder of a time when joy came easily, when the world was painted in shades of pink and blue. But there's a depth to it, a melancholic whisper that reminds you how quickly such moments slip away.

As you get closer, the scent evolves, taking on a slight sharpness as the sugar melts into your awareness. It is insistent, not cloying, wrapping itself around you like a gossamer thread. It lingers in the air, a phantom sweetness that refuses to be forgotten, even as it fades. The scent is playful, almost teasing, like the way cotton candy melts on your tongue before you've fully tasted it. It's the smell of anticipation, of something fleeting and precious. There's an almost electric quality to it, a subtle crackle that mirrors the energy of a carnival in full swing.

You can hear the laughter and the distant hum of a carousel, and you can feel the slight stickiness of sugar on your lips. The scent brings with it a texture, a lightness that's almost effervescent, like bubbles rising to the surface of a sparkling drink. It's sweet but never heavy, always just out of reach. It's the scent of innocence, but also of longing—a yearning for something you can't quite name. It's the smell of moments suspended in time, fragile and irreplaceable, like the way the sky blushes pink before the sun sets. It lingers in your memory, a scent you chase but can never quite capture.

There's a surreal quality to it, as though it belongs to a world just a step removed from reality. It's the smell of dreams spun into sugar, of wishes whispered into the wind. It feels almost impossible, too light to exist in the world of weight and gravity. The scent carries an undercurrent of warmth, like the heat radiating from a carnival booth. It's as though the very air itself has been kissed by sugar, left shimmering and golden in its wake. It's fleeting, disappearing as quickly as it came, but its absence only makes you crave it more.

Every breath is a rediscovery, the scent unveiling new layers of sweetness. It is not static, but alive, shifting and shimmering with every moment. This is the essence of happiness, distilled into something intangible, a fragrance you can only hold in your heart. This is the smell of shared smiles and intertwined fingers, of laughter echoing beneath a canopy of lights. This scent brings people closer and reminds them of the joy found in simple pleasures. It is a feeling and a smell, a warmth that blooms in your chest and spreads outwards.

There is a quiet elegance to it, a reminder that even the simplest things can hold beauty. It is not extravagant or showy; it doesn't need to be. Its charm lies in its subtlety, in the way it lingers softly on the edge of your senses, a ghost of sweetness that never truly leaves. The scent of cotton candy is a promise, a fleeting moment of joy that you hold onto. It's the smell of now, of being present and alive, of letting go of everything but the sweetness in the air. It's a reminder to savor the moments, not rush through them.

This is a scent that will make you smile, even if you don't know why. It's light and airy, but it carries weight in the way it tugs at your heartstrings. It embodies the essence of possibility, the enduring wonder and magic that the world has to offer, encapsulated in a single breath. And even after it's gone, it stays with you. You catch yourself searching for it in the air, and that memory of it clings. The scent of cotton candy is more than just a smell; it's a feeling, a memory, a piece of who you are.

The ride soars above, a dazzling kaleidoscope of lights and machinery, promising an adrenaline rush and a feeling of weightlessness. The hum of its engines vibrates in the air around you, mixing with the laughter and shrieks of other riders. Ronin, beside you, smirks. His dark eyes glint with a mix of mischief and challenge, daring you to back out now. His hand grips yours firmly before he steps into the carriage, pulling you along with him.

The metal of the ride is cold against your palm as you grip the safety bar. Your heartbeat quickens in anticipation. Ronin settles in beside you, sprawling with the careless ease that only he seems to possess, his leather jacket crinkling as he adjusts. His voice cuts through the din—low, teasing. "Don't tell me you're scared." You roll your eyes, but the playful twist of his lips tells you he's already won.

The carriage lurches forward with a jerky movement that makes your stomach flip, and you grab the bar tighter. Ronin chuckles, the sound rich and low, as if he can feel your tension. "Relax," he says, leaning closer, his voice warm against your ear. "You're with me." His words carry a weight that settles somewhere deep in your chest, soothing and electrifying all at once.

As the ride climbs higher, the carnival below becomes a blur of light and sound, a chaotic world that feels far away. The air grows cooler, sharper, carrying the scent of spun sugar and frying batter. The stars above seem closer now, brighter, as if they're watching, waiting for what comes next. Ronin's hand brushes yours and steadies you.

The ride pauses at its peak, a breathless moment suspended between earth and sky. You glance at Ronin; his face illuminated by the glow of the carnival lights. He looks unbothered, confident, his cocky smirk softened by something almost tender. He catches you staring and raises an eyebrow. "Ready?" he asks, his voice laced with anticipation. You nod, though you're not entirely sure if it's the ride or him that's stealing your breath.

Then comes the drop. Gravity vanishes. You are weightless and untethered. The world rushes past in a blur of neon and shadow, and your stomach lurches in a way that's both terrifying and exhilarating. Ronin is laughing beside you. His sound is wild and unrestrained and cuts through the chaos. It's infectious, pulling a laugh from your own lips despite the way your pulse pounds in your ears.

The ride twists and spins, throwing you into a dizzying dance of momentum and centrifugal force. The wind tears through your hair, sharp and cold, but the heat of Ronin's presence grounds you. He's gripping the safety bar with one hand, the other outstretched as if daring the world to come closer. His recklessness is maddening and magnetic, and you can't help but admire the way he leans into the chaos, embracing it like an old friend.

You laugh now, uncontrollably, the sound torn from you by the sheer absurdity of it all. The rush, the thrill, the undeniable aliveness of this moment—it's overwhelming in the best way. Ronin turns to you, his grin wide and unguarded, and for a second, the ride, the carnival, the entire world fades away. It's just the two of you, spinning through the night like you own it.

The ride slows, its frenetic energy winding down into a gentler rhythm. Your heart is still racing, your body buzzing with adrenaline. Ronin looks at you, his dark hair wild from the wind, his eyes alight with pride. "Not bad," he says, his voice teasing but warm. You tease him lightly, but the smile on your face betrays you.

As the ride stops, the attendant opens the gate and you step out on shaky legs. Ronin's hand is there immediately, steadying you, his grip firm and reassuring. "See?" he says, his smirk back. "Told you it'd be fun." You roll your eyes, but you don't let go of his hand. It feels right, solid, like an anchor in the chaos.

You and Ronin wander back into the heart of the carnival, the sounds and smells wrapping around you like a familiar blanket. Ronin's arm is over your shoulders, pulling you close as you weave through the crowd. The world feels brighter and sharper. The ride has shaken loose something in you, leaving you lighter and freer than before.

He stops suddenly, tugging you toward a nearby booth where a bored attendant presides over a wall of stuffed animals. "Pick one," he says, his voice casual but with an edge of determination. You raise an eyebrow, and he smirks. "Trust me." He's already reaching for a handful of darts, his confidence as unshakable as ever.

You watch as he aims, the sharp line of his jaw illuminated by the carnival lights. He misses the first throw, swearing under his breath, and you laugh. "Careful," you tease, and he glares at you playfully before focusing on the next dart. When he finally wins, he hands you a lopsided stuffed bear, his smirk softer now, almost shy. "For surviving," he says, and the warmth in his voice melts something in you.

The next ride is waiting for you: a shimmering wheel of neon lights and hypnotic movement. It's the Ferris wheel—a towering, slow-moving giant that contrasts sharply with the chaos of your last thrill. Ronin raises an eyebrow, his smirk flickering in the carnival glow. "Slowing down already?" he teases, his voice playful and challenging. You nudge him towards the entrance, his leather jacket creaking as he shrugs and steps into the cabin.

The attendant closes the door with a metallic clink, and the wheel begins its steady ascent. The cacophony of the carnival below fades into a hush that feels almost sacred. The cabin rocks gently with every movement, the creak of the frame a whisper against the vast expanse of the night sky. Ronin stretches out beside you, his arm resting lazily along the back of the bench, his presence filling the small space in a way that feels both comforting and electric.

As the wheel climbs higher, the carnival shrinks into a miniature landscape of flashing lights and bustling crowds. The air grows cooler, tinged with the faint metallic scent of machinery and the earthy undertone of the night. Ronin exhales softly, his breath visible in the crisp air, and for a moment, he looks peaceful—a stark contrast to his usual cocky bravado. "Not bad," he murmurs, his voice softer now, the edge dulled by the quiet intimacy of the ride.

You lean back against the seat, your shoulder brushing his arm. The lights of the Ferris wheel cast shifting patterns on his face, illuminating the sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his lips. He catches you staring and returns your smirk. "Caught you," he says, his voice low and teasing, but there's a flicker of something softer in his eyes, something unguarded.

The cabin reaches its peak, and the world seems to hold its breath. The view stretches out endlessly, a patchwork of glowing carnival rides and shadowed fields beneath a velvet sky studded with stars. You feel as if you are floating, untethered, suspended between earth and sky. Ronin's gaze meets yours, and for once, he's silent, his expression hidden. "It's... impressive, isn't it?" he finally says, his voice almost reverent. "Or are you just pretending to be impressed so I don't feel bad about picking this ride?"

You rolled your eyes, a smile playing on your lips. "I'm serious," you stated, nudging him with your elbow. "It's beautiful." His gaze flickered back to you, and for a moment, he just looked at you, as if memorising the way the carnival lights danced across your skin, the way the night seemed to hold its breath around you. "Yeah," he said, his voice quieter now. "It is."

The Ferris wheel slowed as it reached the top, the world below seeming to pause along with it. The stillness was palpable, the air cool and crisp as it wrapped around you both. Ronin shifted closer, his movement deliberate, and you felt the warmth of his arm brushing against yours.

"Hey," he said, his voice a soft drawl, and you looked back at him. His smirk had faded, replaced by something gentler, more earnest. His hand lifted, his fingers brushing lightly against your jawline, tilting your face toward his. "You okay?" he asked, his voice low and concerned.

You nodded, unable to find the words to describe the way your heart was pounding in your chest. The lights below blurred into streaks of gold and crimson, the stars above a silent witness as Ronin leaned in, his breath warm against your skin. The kiss was soft at first, tentative and careful, like he was testing the waters. His lips were warm, a contrast to the cool night air, and his hand lingered against your jaw, steady and sure. The world tilted as you melted into the moment, forgetting the Ferris wheel.

Then, his other hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours in a gesture so simple yet so profound that it sent a shiver down your spine. The kiss deepened, his confidence growing as he leaned closer, his presence overwhelming in the best way. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested gently against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the cool night air. His eyes opened slowly, meeting yours with a mixture of mischief and vulnerability that made your heart ache in the best way.

"Was that okay?" he asked, his voice low and uncertain, as if the answer mattered more to him than anything else. You nodded, your cheeks warm despite the cool breeze. "More than okay," you whispered, and his smirk returned, softer this time, tinged with quiet pride.

The Ferris wheel began to move again, descending slowly toward the chaos of the carnival below. But in that moment, it didn't matter. The world could spin as fast or as slow as it wanted, and you would still be there, anchored to Ronin's presence and the memory of his kiss lingering like a spark against your lips.

The cabin rocks slightly, jolting you back to the present. Ronin shifts closer, his knee brushing against yours, his hand resting casually on your thigh. It's a simple touch, but it sends a clear message: he exerts a magnetism he carries so effortlessly. "You sure you're okay?" he asks, his tone lightening. His smirk returns, this time to mask the vulnerability of the last moment.

You nod, a smile tugging at your lips. "Better than okay," you reply, your voice steady despite the warmth spreading through you. He grins, satisfied, and leans back, his fingers drumming softly against your leg. The ride begins its slow descent, the cabin moving with a gentle sway that feels almost hypnotic. The lights below grow brighter, the hum of the carnival grows louder.

As the cabin dips lower, Ronin starts narrating the scene below, his words laced with his usual sarcasm and wit. "Look at that guy," he says, pointing to a vendor struggling with a cart of balloons. "Bet he's regretting life choices right about now." You laugh, the sound ringing out in the quiet cabin, and his grin widens, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a way that makes your chest ache.

The wheel stops again, leaving your cabin suspended halfway between the ground and the sky. Ronin turns to you, his expression softer now, his teasing replaced by something more sincere. "I'm glad we came," he says, his voice low but steady. The weight of his words hangs in the air, filling the small space with an unspoken promise.

You don't reply, not with words. Instead, you lean into him, your head resting lightly against his shoulder. He doesn't pull away; instead, his arm tightens around you, his fingers brushing against your hair in a way that feels uncharacteristically tender. For a moment, nothing but the sound of your breaths mingling, the quiet hum of the wheel, and the distant laughter of the carnival fills the air.

The ride continues. The cabin sways gently as it descends. The ground feels closer now, the lights and sounds of the carnival growing sharper, more immediate. Ronin shifts beside you, his arm slipping from your shoulders to take your hand. His fingers entwine with yours, his grip firm and steady, a silent reassurance that he's there, always.

When the ride finally stops, the door swings open and the world rushes back in—a cacophony of light and sound that feels almost overwhelming after the quiet intimacy of the ride. Ronin steps out first, his hand still holding yours, guiding you back into the chaos of the carnival. "What's next?" he asks, his smirk firmly in place, his voice laced with that familiar mix of mischief and challenge.

You glance back at the Ferris wheel, its lights spinning lazily against the night sky. The memory of the ride is still vivid, a warmth that settles deep in your chest. Turning back to Ronin, you smile, the answer already forming in your mind. "Anything," you say, your voice steady, your hand still firmly in his. "As long as it's with you."

The merry-go-round is not what you would expect Ronin to choose. Its painted horses, shimmering under the carnival lights, seem far too whimsical, far too tame for someone like him. You glance at him, half-expecting a smirk, a joke about irony, but his expression is unreadable—calm, almost thoughtful. "What?" he says, catching your look. "I can appreciate the classics." His voice is still laced with sarcasm, but there's a new, softer edge to it.

The carousel spins slowly, its music a lilting melody that drifts above the chaos of the carnival. You step onto the platform, the world tilting as the ride begins its lazy rotation. Ronin follows, his hands tucked casually into his jacket pockets as he surveys the painted menagerie. His presence is sharp and dark, out of place here surrounded by the soft hues and gentle lights of the ride, yet he fits – like a shadow cast by something luminous.

He picks a horse near the edge, its golden mane catching the light. "This one's mine," he says, swinging a leg over the saddle with a grace that's almost ridiculous given the setting. You laugh, shaking your head, and choose a horse beside him, its pale blue coat shining under the strings of carnival bulbs. The carved details are worn in places, but there's a charm in its imperfection, a story etched into the wood.

As the ride starts, the horses rise and fall in a rhythm that's both soothing and surreal. The platform spins slowly, the world outside blurring into streaks of light and shadow. Ronin leans back slightly, his hands resting on the brass pole, his posture relaxed. He looks over at you, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. "Having fun yet?" he asks, his voice low and teasing. You roll your eyes, but you can't help smiling.

The carousel's music swells, its notes carrying a strange nostalgia, a sense of something lost and found. You gaze around, taking in the painted scenes on the central column – swirling clouds, galloping horses, a moonlit forest. The artistry is faded, the colours softened by time, but it feels alive, as if the stories it tells are still unfolding. Beside you, Ronin hums along to the tune, his voice low and slightly off-key, and the sound pulls you back to the present.

The horses rise higher, their movements fluid, almost lifelike. You reach out, your fingers brushing the cool metal of the pole, grounding yourself in the gentle rhythm. The lights above flicker softly, casting shadows that dance across Ronin's face. He watches you for a moment, his expression unreadable, before speaking. "It's kind of nice, isn't it?" he says, his tone unusually sincere. You nod, unsure if he's talking about the ride or something else.

The world outside the carousel feels distant, its chaos muted by the steady spin of the ride. The cool night air brushes against your skin, carrying the faint scent of popcorn and caramel. Ronin shifts in his seat, his jacket creaking as he leans forward slightly. "You know," he says, his voice thoughtful, "this isn't as lame as I thought it'd be." His smirk returns, but it's softer now, less biting.

The horses continue their endless cycle, their carved faces frozen in expressions of joy and determination. You reach out and place a hand on Ronin's, your touch light but deliberate. He glances down, his smirk fading into something quieter, something more real. For a moment, the world tilts in a way that has nothing to do with the carousel and everything to do with him.

The music slows, the notes stretching into a gentle diminuendo as the ride begins its descent. The horses lower gradually, their movements smooth and unhurried, as if reluctant to return to stillness. Ronin remains silent, his gaze fixed on the horizon where the carnival lights bleed into the darkness. His hand is still under yours; warm and steady. You can feel the faint pulse of his heartbeat against your palm.

When the carousel finally stops, the platform jolts, breaking the spell. Ronin stands first, his movements unhurried, and offers you a hand. "Come on," he says, his voice softer than usual. You take his hand, his grip firm and reassuring as he helps you off the ride. The world feels sharper, the lights brighter, the sounds louder, but his presence remains an anchor in the chaos.

You both step off the platform. The wooden boards creak beneath your feet. The carnival stretches out before you, a maze of lights and laughter, but you don't move. Ronin's gaze is fixed intently on the carousel, his expression thoughtful as he memorises every detail. Then he turns to you, his smirk returning, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "What's next?" he asks, his tone casual, but there's a weight to his words that you can't ignore.

You glance back at the carousel, its lights spinning lazily against the night sky. The memory of the ride is still vivid, and it makes you feel warm and happy. Turning back to Ronin, you smile, the answer already forming in your mind. "Let's get some food."

The stuffed bear is soft in your arms, its plush fur catching on the fabric of your shirt as you cradle it closer. Ronin walks beside you, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, his stride lazy but purposeful. His dark hair is slightly ruffled from the wind, and the edges of his smirk flicker with the glow of the carnival lights. The air reeks of fried sugar and nostalgia, the sweet tang of cotton candy mixing with the oily warmth of funnel cakes.

"You're really going to carry that thing everywhere, huh?" Ronin teases, his voice low and assertive. He nods towards the bear, its button eyes glossy and endearing. You tighten your grip on it, raising your chin in mock defiance. "You won it for me. What kind of person would I be if I didn't?" you retort, and he lets out a quiet laugh, the sound like gravel under velvet.

The food stands are a blur of colour and motion, their signs promising fried delights and sugary excess. The lights cast halos on the grease-streaked glass counters, and the murmur of carnival-goers blended into a symphony of clinking coins and sizzling oil. Ronin stops in front of a stand with a flickering neon sign advertising funnel cakes, his gaze scanning the menu with exaggerated seriousness.

"Funnel cake?" he asks, his expression unreadable as he glances at you. "Or are you more of a deep-fried Twinkie type?" You roll your eyes and smile, your lips twitching. "Funnel cake," you say, confidently. He raises an eyebrow, feigning disbelief. "Classic. Respectable choice."

The vendor hands him a plate piled high with golden, powdered-sugar-dusted dough, and he passes it to you with a flourish. "My partner first," he says, the sarcasm in his voice softened by the way he watches you, his dark eyes glinting under the carnival lights. You bite into the dough, the sweet, warm pleasure of the sugar and dough melting on your tongue.

Ronin leans casually against the stand, effortlessly stealing a piece from the plate. You swat at his hand, but he dodges easily, his laugh low and unrepentant. "You weren't planning to eat it all," he says, his tone light but his grin mischievous. You shake your head, biting back a smile as he takes another piece, his fingers brushing yours briefly, sending a spark through your skin.

The stuffed bear is positioned uncomfortably between you and the plate, its stitched smile looking oddly conspiratorial. Ronin eyes it with mock suspicion, as if the bear itself is judging him. "You know," he says, leaning closer, his voice dropping into that teasing drawl that always makes your heart race, "I think that thing likes me better than you."

You snort, holding the bear closer. "Maybe it does. You did win it, after all." He quirks an eyebrow, his smirk softening into something almost genuine. "Damn right, I did." The carnival lights catch in his eyes, turning their dark depths into pools of amber and gold, and for a moment, you're caught in the warmth of his gaze.

The air grows cooler as the night deepens, the crowd thinning slightly but losing none of its energy. Ronin gestures towards another stand, one selling caramel apples and oversized pretzels. "Round two?" he asks, tilting his head in a way that's both a challenge and an invitation. You nod, the stuffed bear tucked securely under one arm, and follow him.

The vendor hands over a caramel apple, its glossy surface glinting like molten gold under the lights. Ronin takes a bite first, the crunch loud and satisfying, before holding it out to you. "Your turn," he says, casual but watching you closely. You bite into the caramel apple, the sweetness coating your lips, and he smirks, wiping a stray bit of caramel from your chin with his thumb.

"You're a mess," he says, his voice low and without malice. There's just quiet affection in it, and it makes your chest ache. You roll your eyes, but your smile betrays you, and he chuckles softly, the sound enveloping you like a warm blanket.

You and Ronin walk away from the food stalls, the bear still clutched tightly in your arms. Ronin finishes the apple with exaggerated relish, tossing the stick into a nearby trash can with a dramatic flick of his wrist. "Fuck yeah," he mutters, grinning when you shake your head.

The carnival spreads out before you, a kaleidoscope of light and sound, and for a moment, the world feels infinite. Ronin walks beside you, his presence grounding yet electric, the stuffed bear a comforting weight in your arms. The night air carries the faint scent of fireworks, a promise of something spectacular yet to come.

Ronin glances at you, his expression softer now, the teasing edge gone. "You having fun?" he asks, his voice quieter, more genuine. You nod, your smile easy and unguarded. "Yeah," you say, the word simple but heavy with meaning.

He reaches out, his hand brushing yours before he takes hold. His fingers are warm, calloused but gentle, and the touch sends a thrill through you. "Good," he says, his smirk returning, but it's softer now, tinged with something deeper.

You and he find a bench near the edge of the carnival. The lights and sounds provide a comforting backdrop as you sit together. The stuffed bear is placed on your lap, its stitched smile a quiet witness to the moment. Ronin leans back, his arm casually draped over the back of the bench, his gaze fixed on the stars, barely visible beyond the carnival glow.

"Thanks for coming with me," you say, your voice barely audible over the hum of the crowd. He glances at you, his smirk fading into a small, genuine smile. "I wouldn't miss it," he says simply, his tone steady, his words carrying a weight that makes your heart swell.

The carnival buzzes around you, a symphony of life and light, but in this moment, it's just the two of you. Ronin's hand finds yours again, his grip firm and reassuring. The stuffed bear sits between you, its plush presence a reminder of the night's fleeting magic. Together, you sit in the carnival's glow, the world spinning on around you, and for once, everything feels exactly as it should.

The night is heavy with the scent of nostalgia and carnival sweetness as you, Ronin, and the stuffed bear make your way back to the car. The lights of the carnival flicker behind you like fading stars, their chaotic brilliance dimming with each step you take away from them. You clutch the bear tightly, its soft body reassuringly warm and familiar after a night spent in the thrill of the fair.

Ronin's hand brushes against yours, his fingers lacing through yours in that quiet, steady way that speaks volumes. He doesn't say anything at first—he doesn't need to. The silence between you is comfortable, the kind that settles in after hours of shared laughter, teasing, and the kind of connection that feels like it's always been there, even when it hasn't.

You slide into the passenger seat of the car, the leather creaking beneath you. Ronin follows, settling into the driver's seat with ease. A slight, contented smile lingers on his lips. He turns the key in the ignition. The engine starts with a soft hum, and the dashboard lights cast his face in shadows. His eyes flick to you for a brief moment, and the softness there makes your heart ache in the best way.

"You good, darlin?" he asks, his voice smooth and confident. His hand rests casually on the wheel, the other shifting the car into gear. You nod, your eyes following the rhythm of his hands as they move, the way he operates the car with a quiet confidence.

"Yeah," you say, your voice steady but tired. "Just relaxed." The word feels right, like it wraps itself around you, embracing you in the afterglow of a day well-spent. The carnival may fade in the rearview mirror, but the memory of it lingers in your chest like the warm pulse of an unforgettable night.

Ronin shifts in his seat, his hand still holding yours as he steers the car out of the lot, the headlights cutting through the quiet streets. His fingers squeeze yours gently, and you glance over at him, catching the way his eyes are soft, the flicker of contentment in his gaze. "Good," he murmurs, his thumb brushing the back of your hand. "I'm glad you had fun."

The journey back is quiet but not uncomfortable. The streets blur past, the city's lights casting fleeting reflections across the windows. Lean your head against the cool glass and let the steady car movements lull you into a state of calm. The stuffed bear, still clutched in your arms, feels oddly like a piece of the night, a tangible reminder of the joy, the laughter, and the closeness you've shared.

The car pulls into the driveway and Ronin parks with ease. He turns off the engine. For a moment, the world outside is reduced to the quiet hum of the night, the stars overhead and the soft rustling of the trees in the breeze.

You climb out of the car, the exhaustion of the day settling into your bones like a comfortable weight. Ronin is already by your side, his arm wrapping around you as you walk toward the house. The bear, heavy and plush in your arms, is a constant reminder of the day's simple pleasures and the presence of someone who truly understands you.

The interior of the house is warm and quiet, a stark contrast to the vibrant chaos of the carnival outside. You set the bear down on the couch. Its big eyes stare up at you as you turn to face Ronin. He gazes at you tenderly, his expression unreadable. The tension from the day slips away as you stand there together in the living room, the weight of the night behind you and the promise of tomorrow ahead.

"I'm glad we did this," Ronin says, his voice low and measured, his words barely a whisper against the quiet hum of the house. You look at him, your heart beating faster as his gaze meets yours. He steps closer, closing the distance between you in that slow, deliberate way that makes everything feel like it's happening in slow motion.

"Me too," you reply, your voice firm. A promise that you'll always have days like this—days filled with laughter, teasing, and the comfort of knowing someone is there beside you, just as you are.

The night stretches out, the quiet of the house settling around you both like a blanket. You and Ronin share one final look, your eyes meeting in that unspoken understanding. For a moment, it feels like the world outside has disappeared entirely, leaving just the two of you, the bear, and the simple, perfect peace of being together.

[1singulargrape]

yuuji cannot use a chair to save his life

Sukuna was sitting on the floor, his upper arms resting on the couch behind him. His head was tilted to the side as it rested on his fist, and he lazily looked at the screen in front of him.

Yuuji was playing a video game, a "shooter game" with many colors and sounds that looked more like the mess the brat watched on his phone rather than anything coherent. Trying to follow along made Sukuna's head spin but there were a few things that were easy to catch on.

Yuuji's character exploded into a colored puddle, and without missing a beat Sukuna laughed at him. "You suck at this," he added.

Yuuji turned to glare at him, straining his neck while doing so, "I haven't played in months and the other team has a sniper, so if I don't try to move up we're never getting back mid."

He turned back at the sound of his character respawning, "And my team only has short to mid-range weapons so we're at a disadvantage here."

Sukuna couldn't be bothered to understand what any of that meant. "I'm only hearing excuses. If you were actually good at this game of yours you wouldn't need teammates to win."

"It's a multiplier game, having teammates is the whole POINT!" He screamed the last word as he narrowly evaded an attack that would have surely got him killed again, exploding his opponent in the process. His momentary glee was quickly crushed as his character also exploded for seemingly no reason.

Sukuna didn't try to hide his chuckles while the young man anxiously looked at the map while respawning. The match ended before he could get onto the field again.

Despite the general chaos of the game Sukuna only needed one look to know the results. He smiled with all his teeth, poking at Yuuji's temple with his free hand, "Maybe you should give up for now. What is it? The fifth loss in a row?"

"Oh, shut up," he fell back, landing on Sukuna's chest, "I just need to shake the rust off," he closed his eyes for a moment, knowing how to queue for another match without looking.

Sukuna huffed fondly, "You've been saying that for the past 30 minutes, brat."

Yuuji didn't add anything, only pouting a little. He made his character jump up and down with the hand he still had on the controller. Sukuna tightened the arms he had warped around Yuuji's waist, filling the gap until the younger man sat back up for the next match.

.

.

Yuuji was on his phone, checking over his social medias, laughing at memes and catching up with the tea of strangers online while sending out anything interesting to his friends

What had started out as him sitting beside Sukuna was now him halfway over the other man's laps, his upper back and neck held on a massive arm and hand.

Sukuna was reading old history books, saying he wanted to "catch up" to what happened while he was sealed. One time he mentioned to Yuuji how lacking historical records felt compared to the reality of life during his time, but that didn't stop him from reading them; in fact having a basis to compare how things were when he was still alive compared to what was recorded granted him a far better understanding of other recordings, according to him.

Yuuji didn't really get why he'd spend so much time reading from the source when there were so many videos online detailing their country's history. He had provided Sukuna with a phone for that reason but he only used it for 2 weeks before permanently retiring it to a drawer saying that "it was no wonder the brat was so stupid with the amount of trash accessible through that thing”.

Not what Yuuji had expected when Sukuna had spent those 2 weeks with an average of 12 hours of daily screentime, but hey.

While he was scrolling, Yuuji came across something that made him grin. "Hey, old man!"

Sukuna turned one eye to look at him which was enough acknowledgement for Yuuji, "Look at this," he turned his phone to him.

A picture of an adult tiger lying on its side with a cub pawing at its face was shoved into Sukuna's vision. "It's us."

Yuuji was grinning from ear to ear, giggling to himself. He took back his phone after receiving a hum of acknowledgement and they both resumed their respective activity.

Once Yuuji was fully focused on his screen again, Sukuna allowed himself to smile.

.

.

"Are you done showing off?" Yuuji asked annoyed. As his answer, Sukuna pushed back, going from doing push-ups on one hand to one finger and it only pissed off Yuuji even more.

Originally Yuuji was simply working out a little and was joined by Sukuna who not only matched Yuuji's moves but also made a point of one-upping him at every turn.

Yuuji watched from the side as Sukuna finished his set of 1 finger push-ups, wholly unimpressed as he was pretty sure he could do the same.

He simply knew that Sukuna would one-up him again somehow and he didn't want his light work-out session to turn into their usual competitions.

"Is that all you got brat?" Sukuna was smiling with all his teeth, still holding a perfect plank position, "Was such a simple move enough to scar you into surrendering?"

Well, Yuuji couldn't let that slide. "I just think that this was way too easy for you."

Yuuji walked closer and got on Sukuna's back, sitting in the middle of it. He knew that a man who could carry entire buildings wouldn't be bothered by his weight, but he was still annoyed by the fact that the other did not budge. Not even breaking a sweat.

"Is that it?" Sukuna changed the arm holding him and started another set. "This is still a lightwork brat. Unless you also want me to sit on your back as well to see if you can match the strength of a single one of my arms?"

"I can carry you pretty easily you know that?" Yuuji added with a frown.

"I'd love to see this," he added mockingly which only made Yuuji angrier.

The older man finished his set. A bit passed and he eventually laid down on floor, Yuuji still on his back.

"Hey what are you doing now?"

"Given how comfortable you seem up there I have decided to claim victory this time and let you enjoy yourself. How benevolent of me, I know."

Determined not to leave this as a loss, Yuuji got up and immediately deadlifted Sukuna off the ground.

.

.

Most beds weren't comfortable to Sukuna, made in sizes too small for his bulk and extra limbs, yet sometimes he'd ditch the massive one in his room to sleep in Yuuji's.

And what could Yuuji do if he was tired as well? With Sukuna lying on his back, arms splayed open and legs dangling off the edge, there wasn't that much place left for him to sleep on.

Yuuji crawled up the bed and laid directly on Sukuna's chest, hair tickling the bigger man's chin. He wrapped his arms around the other's neck while 2 hands placed themselves on the small of his back. 'For stability' they both thought.

Like this they both drifted to sleep, hearts close to one another and beating in sync to a slow and steady rhythm.

.

.

.

.

On some day they'll go picnicking together, as if they weren't spending enough time with one another.

They ate, they talked, then they both fell silent, a comfortable sensation covering them both as they simply enjoyed each other's presence as well as the nature around them.

Sukuna's head was laid on Yuuji's laps. Gentle fingers ran through his hair and massaged his scalp; the sun kept them warm and a soft breeze rustled the leaves of the trees around them.

Yuuji had already zoned out, moving his hands automatically in a way that felt right to him, whereas Sukuna had started to drift off to sleep.

Small moments of peace they wish could last forever

[lovieku]

MOTHERFUCKIN’ TRAIN WRECK! ⋆ 정국

𐙚 if you were my boyfriend… and you were my girlfriend…

when renowned fuckboy jeon jeongguk catches feelings, he loses his mind. only when it comes to you, though.

based on this ask

from the grande series ୨ৎ

pairing: fuckboy!jk x fem!reader

genre: fwb au

warnings: small smutty moments (cunnilingus, fingering, tiny boob play), angst, fluffi maybe idk, whipped and jelly koo, ft. namjoon!!!, oblivious oc, deep down she feels it too but jk is simply too much of a simp so it doesn’t look like it at first, he’s also so petty and sassy, jokes about ending it if oc doesn’t give him a chance </3, he’s just a little shit, peep the lyrics from boyfriend hehe, oh btw happy ending!!!

word count: 18k

a/n: wowww i’m so sorry for this pile of nonsense, it’s so bad i vomited a little in my mouth. i hate every single thing about it but i didn’t wanna leave you guys starved. i love u sm and thank u for the support, but u’re allowed to leave hate asks for what u’re about to read rn ❤️ also i’m SO SORRY for being unable to write a jungkook who isn’t a simp

🏷️ perm taglist: @ceellliiinee @jaytheatiny @dolligguk @luvismenu @theyloveyams @stillwjk-channie-lixie @bookstoread199 @girlygguk @vieviela @myngiii @angelxkoo @nnybtitts08 @mpbrinkss @https-mei @lyywst @mhdelu @apobangpogirlyyy @khadeeeeej @awrkive

────୨ৎ────

Jeongguk was only supposed to clean you up. That’s what he calls it when his angelic face finds its place between your spread legs, sinful eyes locking with yours, paired with a smirk you can hardly ever survive.

After all, he’s a man of simple devices. Why bother fetching a towel when he can use his own mouth? When he can let his tongue lap at your juices, slurp every last trace, have an excuse to taste you again, and again, and again?

It’s barely even effective as a way to clean you up, of drying the slick mess that sticks to your inner thighs from cumming three times under his merciless doings— you both know that. Then, how does he expect you not to break a fourth when he runs his wet muscle so torturously along your slit, getting ever more soaked?

Jeongguk is not really trying to end the night. He’s drawing it out. He already had you unraveling in phases— first on his fingers, then all over his cupid lips, ending with you convulsating just another time around his thick length.

It was rough, left purplish marks of his harsh hold digging into your sides, a faint trace of a forbidden hickey just under your collarbones, where you can easily hide it.

In all fairness, he couldn’t help it.

It was you who provoked him. You always do, getting under his skin, teasing him about his skills, downgrading them with playful indifference and nothing more than a meh, as Jeongguk rasps in your ear, clearly affected by your session of foreplay when asking, “Does this make you feel good?”

You’ll be sent straight to hell for lying like that, with seemingly no remorse, but you’re unable to resist the dangerous game and the familiar thrill that comes from it. Nothing compares to the dark wave that takes over his hooded eyes, his motions ever more intentional, almost overwhelming.

He moves to prove something to you, to show you there’s no one quite like him, even with all the guys in your phone, on your lips, inside your sheets.

Jeongguk is your fuckbuddy, and your friend on top of the rest. So, when he first laid his lips on yours, the bottom line plumper than his cupid’s bow, it had taken a great amount of alcohol to flow through both of your veins and blur the lines, let instinct take over.

From there, it was like you couldn’t help yourselves; the physical attraction was undeniable, it’s what brought you here in between the mess of his bed. If you ignore the silly crush you had on him during the first year of college, this was perfect.

Your fuckbuddy contract (Jeongguk hates calling you that, he prefers my friend who makes me cum a lot) includes a heavy emphasis on a no-strings-attached relationship, that can be interrupted whenever one of the two feels uncomfortable, and that should not come before your friendship. On top of all, you both are not exclusive. No commitment, no jealousy. You’re perfectly free of meeting other people, fucking other people. Unless you’re going to date one of those, of course. Then, bye-bye friend who makes me cum a lot.

These rules were established almost a year ago, after your hands couldn’t help themselves from roaming hastily all over his body, pulling him impossibly closer. It was the second time you allowed yourself to feel him, following the night when he initiated things under the clouded lights of a club.

You couldn’t help it. You had been thinking of that moment for weeks now, and when you were left alone with him in his dorm room, pulse racing, it’s all your thoughts were reduced to. Kiss him, kiss him, fuck him.

You felt guilty. A friend shouldn’t be thinking of another friend like you were about Jeongguk. Especially after you promised yourself you wouldn’t let your buried crush resurface and ruin what you had built— even if the memory of that infatuation is honestly just laughable now (you would never think of dating him, pft).

But Jeongguk, ever the gentlest when it comes to you, assured you it was okay to feel as you did, because he felt it too. And was dying to touch you again. His words, not yours.

It’s only sexual. A casual, sexual relationship. Two friends who happen to find each other irresistible.

So when he reacts with a flash of competitiveness at the mere suggestion he might not be the best you’ve ever had, it’s… weird, the feeling that overcomes you. You acknowledge it for a split second, as if you’re searching to name that something inside you stirring, but before you can, it seems to make you fall apart immediately, your grip tighter, back arched, moans high-pitched.

He basks in his silent victory, in the factual demonstration that he in fact can’t be compared to all your other guys.

Except, there’s actually no other guys.

Back when this friends-with-benefits arrangement first started, you were occasionally fooling around with an older guy from campus named Mingyu. Jeongguk knew him, given that they’re in the same photography class. He was also aware of your casual fling with him. And yet, Jeongguk still kissed you. Actually, did so much more than just that.

Either way, the line has always been clear: he has no right to question who you spend time with and what you engage in, Jeongguk isn’t a saint either.

You love him, you truly do. With time, he has become one of your closest friends, and you honestly can’t see yourself getting through college without him.

But there’s no denying the fuckboy allegations, the ones that are constantly thrown at him all around campus. He is a fuckboy. It must be his easy charm, flirting as natural as breathing, tripping out his tongue with seemingly not much thought. At some point, the majority of the girls in your campus got to have their moment with Jeongguk, either because of mindless teasing or one night stands, occasionally turning into casual arrangements.

You have accepted it as part of who he is. You know his fuckboy habits haven’t magically changed when you two started fucking. He doesn’t really spend much time talking about it with you, occasionally mentioning his doings every now and then, but you don’t need to know; his friends and the people whispering in hallways and lecture halls fill in the blanks.

That is exactly why you’ve let Jeongguk believe that your sexual life is equally as busy, floods of boys from your inbox to your sheets, as if you aren’t too much of a hopeless romantic to even think of anything that isn’t exclusively monogamous.

But this isn’t the case. Jeongguk isn’t yours, you aren’t his. It’s just about sex, and you’ve accepted that. You don’t want anything more from him. You tell yourself the only reason you’re not seeing anyone else is that the idea of it makes you uneasy. That you’re more than satisfied with Jeongguk being your friend-turned-into-fuckbuddy, and you don’t need other ones.

Jeongguk is more than enough. Oh, he is.

“Fuck, Gguk. You’re gonna make me cum— Ah, shit— again.”

Your head is thrown back in his pillow, legs weakly tightening around his head nestled so close to your core, and it’s clear his goal has completely shifted from getting you clean and neat when the tip of his tongue moves to flicker on your sensitive nub, relentlessly abusing it with casual kissing and sucking.

He opens his mouth to take more of you, his wet muscle tracing your slit and teasing your entrance for— sadly —the shortest second, and the way he hums approvingly against you brings you even closer to the breaking point.

You’re a fragile mess, overstimulated from the previous orgasms but desperate to chase yet another climax, his hands roaming up to find your breast only spurring you further.

Jeongguk knows you by now, and is aware of all the subtle gestures that make you come undone under him. He knows just what to do to push you over the edge, and when to do it exactly.

You’re a sucker for dirty talk and praise, and occasionally, when the ideal situation comes, you love being degraded. It’s a side of you that only ever arises during sex, mind hazed and irrational, the delirious need for release clouding all your usually composed senses.

At first, he teased you for it. Not because he’s not as much of a fan as you are of talking during sex, but because he never pictured you to be the loud type. And you truly are.

Jeongguk pinches your nipples in hopes of you getting the message and lowering your volume, but it only makes you whine higher, your moans surely not going unnoticed by the other students in the dorm.

It can only be worse when he decides to speak against you, his voice a low, almost unintelligible growl, “Pussy’s so fuckin’ good. All mine, fuck. Want to taste your cum once again, c’mon babe. Give it to me.”

And you, always obliging and well-behaved, let go for a fourth time, hips furiously rutting against his face, his words making your surroundings spin, the way his nose would brush your sensitive nub having your eyes roll to the back of your head.

Your gasp is strained when he retreats with one last wet stripe between your puffy lips, sealing the orgasm with a kiss on your clit, and when he finds your face again there’s a cockish grin spreading across his, chin coated with your juices.

He immediately meets your mouth then, sharing your own taste, and you both moan shamelessly at the action.

Jeongguk collapses next to you, his body warm and relaxed, pulling you closer by your waist and almost making you straddle him with the force of his hold. He sighs into your hair, kissing the root of it, “You did amazing for me, pretty girl.”

A pleasant shiver runs down your spine at the praise and the pet name rolling off his tongue with ease. It’s ridiculous.

With your cheek pressed against his chest, you glance up at him through your lashes and a lazy smile threatens to take over your face, but your playful pout is more prominent, almost convincing, “I’m never letting you do that trick on me again. Next time, I’m just going to take a shower like a normal person.”

The laugh he lets out is rich and unguarded, his chest rumbling under your ear, and it makes you pull away with a mock glare, brows knitted together as you swat at his toned stomach, “Don’t laugh. I hated that.”

His dark eyes soften as they dance with amusement, the corners crinkling, and he hums, going along with your blatant lie from the way your lips struggle to contain a grin, “Oh, absolutely. You were screaming in horror, couldn’t stand it.”

“Whatever,” you mutter incoherently, standing up to escape from the inevitable loss. The slick between your thighs reminds you of why you need that shower in the first place, causing you to awkwardly wobble your way to his bathroom.

Jeongguk watches you with a lopsided smirk, stretched out on the bed, his brown hair a messy halo on the pillow, and it completes the concept he goes perfectly with, the one of a devil dressed up as an angel, even more when his voice drips with faux desperation, “Hey, come back. I need my cuddles.”

“You’ll live,” you toss back before pulling the door shut behind you and stepping into the warm embrace of the shower. The hot water stings at first, then soothes you, sliding down your skin.

Jeongguk already knows the outcome of what he’s about to do isn’t going to turn in his favor, but he tries his luck regardless, standing up hastily and limply making his way to his bathroom door.

He only knocks twice, then puts on his best begging voice, talking loud enough to be heard over the shower, “Toots?”

“No!”

A scoff filters through the steamy air, followed by the unmistakable creak of the door handle as he steps inside. He’s relentless, voices his thoughts with the kind of logic only he would find convincing, “C’mon, we’ll save water!”

You stand with your back to him, his body wash traveling down your skin in soap bubbles, the scent filling the air, and you let your shoulders shrug. You don’t turn around. Number one, because you’ll give in. Number two, because you can hear the pout on his lips, and that’s the reason for number one.

You try your best to sound annoyed, “Jeongguk, just leave. You don’t even pay for it.”

“Our poor earth pays for it,” he quips, stepping further into the cramped space, body still bare, and that’s maybe a number three for you, “Because you wanna be so unfair to your best friend and leave him out in the cold.”

“You’re not my best friend.”

His gasp is dramatic, you even hear it echo through the tiny room, and you fight hard to contain the giggle locked inside you, but it escapes in the shape of a snort, which you quickly try to conceal by clearing your throat. You even further go with the lie, “You heard me.”

“Unbelievable. I’m kicking you out the second you’re done here,” he tries his best menacing tone, the threat barely harsh and effective, closing the door behind his back with an exaggerated thump, followed by unintelligible grumbling.

You take your sweet time in his now steamy bathroom. You shampoo twice, deliberately squeezing out a generous amount of his own fancy product in your palm, making sure the squeak of the bottle is heard through the door so he knows you’re helping yourself. His high-quality hair dryer blasts warm air over your damp hair until it’s only mildly wet. And you even rummage around his cabinet, indulging in his collection of expensive skincare creams. These little luxuries are exactly why you never pass a single occasion to shower over at his dorm room.

And the second you’re done in there, he doesn’t kick you out like he threatened. It takes a moment for him to move his attention from his phone to your figure, wrapped around in his fluffy robe, and he doesn’t even try to keep up the menacing act. Still spread on his ruined bed, his furrowed brows relax, and his lips break into a grin. He scans your face, then giggles, “You’ve got a massive pimple on your forehead.”

“Fuck you. I’m taking one of your hoodies.”

“It’s called borrowing,” even in the midst of checking out your freshly-washed naked body, now being stripped from his bathrobe, he’s still committed to the game of banter you two always play.

“It’s not if I’m not giving it back,” you counter, voice muffled by the fabric of one of his many black sweatshirts you’re already pulling over your head, quickly shuffling into your jeans, helping them up with some small hops that make him grin.

He doesn’t seem bothered by your comeback, too used to losing his own clothes to your closet; rather, he watches you move with what seems like hurry around his dimly lit room. He shifts higher, letting the sheets slip to reveal his still bare, and slightly sweaty torso, “Wanna hang out together at the party tomorrow?”

”Hmm, I’ll just see you there,” you don’t pay him much attention, using your phone camera as a mirror to wipe away any smudged mascara under your eyes. “I’ve already got a partner, actually.”

Jeongguk fully sits up now, vision a little blurry from the hasty and sudden movement, phone forgotten, “A partner?”

The way you casually let a smile tug at your lips while talking about a man is new, “Yeah. A guy from my English class asked me to go with him. He’s pretty cute.”

You’re too busy shoving your belongings in your bag and mentally cataloging every single item to notice the expression your best friend is currently sporting, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. Tank top, makeup, laptop… where the fuck is— oh, here. Lip balm. What else?

Jeongguk thinks you’re forgetting something deathly important. A fucking explanation, maybe? He’s known you to occasionally fool around with random guys, but he thought it was just that. Occasional and random. When did it get to having a partner? That sounds silly. Or maybe a little too formal, a little too real. What the fuck does having a partner even entail?

You’re blissfully unaware of the stubborn storm taking over Jeongguk’s thoughts, especially because you’re not exactly sparing him a second glance, moving with single-minded focus, hurrying to leave. Because apparently it’s so bad to want to spend the night with your best friend. Share a bed, watch a movie, talk gossip (it’s been so long since you’ve updated him the way only you can about the latest campus stories, ugh). Amazing, yes, that’s totally fine with Jeongguk.

And he does manage to sound unbothered, “What’s his name?”

“Namjoon.”

Jeongguk focuses on your slim fingers slipping your lip balm into the front pocket of your bag, syllabes leaving his lips in a slow mumble, “Ah, Namjoon. I know him. I guess.”

Fucking Kim Namjoon. Of course he knows him. 6 feet tall, polite, model student Kim Namjoon. Shit. Great choice. No, really, he’s the perfect catch.

“Hm? Well, I think he’s very nice. And hot as fuck.”

He grimaces, “Gross.”

“You’re one to talk,” pulling the hood over your head, you finally meet his eyes. You’re completely oblivious to the thoughts gnawing at him, so you think his disappointment is only caused by your next words, “I should get going now.”

“What? You’re not staying over for dinner?” The way he looks up at you with doe, puppy-dog eyes almost makes you trip on your own resolution, but you only ruffle his hair from your stance next to his bed, hoping the small action is enough to satisfy your hunger. Not for dinner.

“Nah, sorry Gguk. Gotta get up early for English class.”

He scoffs, moving stubbornly from your soothing touch, “Sure. English class with Joohyuk.”

“…Namjoon.”

“Right, that’s what I said. Namsun.”

You raise an eyebrow, half-laughing, “No, it’s Namjoon.”

“Namgi.”

“Namjoon.”

“Whatever, don’t care.” The words have barely any space to roll out through his pout, and along with his petty little slip-ups it’s the most childish act you’ve seen him pull so far. To be completely honest, he seems to break a new record every other day.

You fight the urge to roll your gaze at the ceiling, finding it impossible to deal with pouty, hungry and cuddle-starved Jeongguk. You sigh, muttering, “Insufferable.”

“Give me a kiss, brat.”

The teasing comes so naturally that for a second you don’t ponder on the demand being something a normal friend wouldn’t exactly ask. But it isn’t one you’ll deny.

You bend down to meet him as easily as he let the request out, muttering a playful Oh, I’m the brat now? before brushing his pushed lips with yours in a sweet, short kiss, enough to draw a soft sigh from both of you. You hum against it, voice warm with something that contradicts your words entirely, “I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“Sure,” rolling your eyes, you grant his cocky figure that little win, too tired to put up a fight, even if you almost rethink it when he confidently leans back against the pillows, smirking up at you. You decide to cut it short, it’s for the best, throwing your bag over your shoulder as well as one last look at him, before readying yourself for the walk of shame through his frat.

────୨ৎ────

Namjoon is, by all standards, the perfect guy. He’s genuine, smiles sweetly with his dimples showing and his eyes crinkling into crescents that make him seem both wise and youthful.

Careful, even protective over you, making sure you’re comfortable. With your drink, with your seat, with your conversation.

Almost too attentive, which should calm your nerves, but instead you feel yourself unable to fully let go. Open up to him like he’s doing with you, like you think you want to do.

You’re not sure. You can’t feel that mysterious spark everybody talks about. That spark Jeongguk admitted he’s never felt with anyone so far, no matter the number of girls he’s been with. The one he’s confessed he’s desperate to feel. The one you hope he can find.

Wait, why are you thinking about Jeongguk?

Said boy has yet to acknowledge you, standing across from you in the crowded living room of your mutual friend’s house. Each weekend, the same ritual brings you back here, whenever Taehyung’s parents head off for one of their rich-people, luxurious trips. The space is familiar, a backdrop to countless parties, all too often ending in someone’s drunken confessions and stolen kisses that’d become the talk of campus until the next party came around.

As tradition would want, with the clock ticking its way past midnight, you’d be drunk out of your mind already. Tonight, however, you’re not even sure you want to be here.

Namjoon is keeping close tabs on your drinks, monitoring each glass you reach for, and you know he means well; ordinarily, you’d find it sweet, endearing even. But it only seems to heighten your anxiety now. It just reminds you of how out of place this whole thing feels. You want to drown your awkwardness in a wave of liquid courage, and the irony isn’t lost on you: the very reason why you’re nervous is keeping you from numbing it.

Namjoon makes you way too aware of yourself. You wish your first proper hang out wasn’t at a filthy frat party, the blasting music causing you both to lean into each other to make conversation. The proximity makes your palms disgustingly clammy, and you hope he doesn’t reach for your hand.

You also think this isn’t the type of scenario that best suits Namjoon. You would have loved to be with him somewhere softer, with less noise and more light, talking over coffee instead of loud techno, his poetic speech lulling you into infatuation. Maybe then, this would have gone like you had imagined it might. Like you wanted it to go, just to prove something to yourself. You’re still not sure what exactly.

But this house — this party — is a natural habitat for people like Jeongguk. It’s a playground he navigates with ease, his charisma amplified by the darkened rooms and faint cigarette smoke that seems to follow him, just like everyone around him. They exist solely to orbit his mood.

It’s as he saunters back inside after yet another smoke break that you spot him again, his focus entirely on whatever girl is currently at his side. With Namjoon leaving to grab a drink for the two of you to share, you take the short moment to be a shameless creep and study your friend’s movements from the other side of the room.

You can’t help but feel a sting of irritation. Jeongguk is fully aware you’re here. You’d texted him earlier, just something casual to say you’d arrived, maybe even expecting him to meet you or give you a quick wave. Instead, there’d been no reply.

Just like the TikToks you’d sent last night, after you told him you wouldn’t be staying over at his, that also went ignored. You didn’t think too much of it, figured it was probably one of his petty acts. You aren’t any better: it’s not like you’ll go up to him to say hi, not after he ignored you. Those videos were funny, too. He’s the one missing out.

But now, your eyes squinted to try and get the best possible view on each detail of the scene in front of you, what you notice is nothing about him and everything about who he’s currently spending the time he could have used to acknowledge you with.

It’s not just whatever girl. It’s Haeun.

You haven’t seen them hanging out together in what feels like months, and frankly, you’re thrown. Maybe that’s also the reason why he suddenly had no time for you. You scoff.

You’re just confused, really. Jeongguk didn’t mention a thing about her, and it’s not like he’s ever kept his hookups or flings a secret. But Haeun was never just that. She was the one he seemed almost ready to get in his first serious relationship with, the one girl you thought could make him forget all about his usual habits.

When Jeongguk had first started hanging out with Haeun, he’d seemed uncharacteristically interested. You naturally found yourself rooting for him, hoping he’d take a leap and start something real after many failed attempts.

At that point, your casual arrangement with him had been going on for a while, but you knew it wasn’t built to last. You’d expected it to end sooner rather than later, and you were okay with that. You just wanted him to be happy with himself and his choices.

But on the night he was supposed to take Haeun out on a date, the one that could have changed everything, it’s like a magic vacuum turned on and sucked all his progress away. He’d shown up in front of your door instead. No explanations, no details about what had happened; he didn’t want to talk. He only wanted to be near you and sink into silence.

That night you laid next to him, his head on you, hair sprawled out on your stomach, and said absolutely nothing.

Since then, he hadn’t mentioned Haeun at all, and you’d assumed it was over. The right side of your brain was irrationally glad for that, greedily geeking at the prospect of still getting to keep Jeongguk close in ways that go over a simple friendship. In ways that have you thanking God for not taking your friend’s sex skills away from you; in ways that have your nose scrunching whenever he leaves small, delicate pecks on the side of your neck as you watch a movie cuddled in his embrace. If he had decided to go on that date, you would be denied all of this luxury.

The left side of your brain is a little less greedy, a little more rational. The half of your mind responsible for keeping some logic instilled in you even thought it could have been a good thing for Jeongguk to experience a different side of relationships.

You’ve always sensed there to be deeper reasons beneath Jeongguk’s carefree front. You’ve watched him jump from girl to girl, dip in and out of flings with seemingly no thought, as if he’s not trying to bury issues he should find a different answer for, to avoid whatever insecurities he’s run too far away from to face.

He’s never had to spell it out for you. You never pressed him on the topic either. And you think he’s grateful for it, for your silence that offers him the stability he won’t admit he needs, for simply staying and understanding. For allowing him to be vulnerable.

You wish you could give him more than that quiet comfort. Wonder if you should try your luck and push him to see that he does deserve something real— more than the distractions he uses to keep his fears at bay.

Jeongguk would make an incredible boyfriend. He always spots the small details, the slight changes in your mood, and he picks them up before you can even notice yourself, caring in a silent way that doesn't go unnoticed. Not by you.

It’s easy to imagine him being the kind of partner who’d cater to his girl’s needs effortlessly, even in quiet, even if hidden. You know he could be that person if he could just let anyone in beyond sex. When he’ll find the one, it’ll be clear it’s all he was made for.

Right now though, if anyone were to ask you that, you’d advise them to just go and look for another one, because he’s a little, lying piece of shit. You’re just a tad bit upset about it, if your crossed arms and furrowed brows are anything to go by.

You don’t understand why he’s now there, standing next to the girl he himself stood up, the one he looked ready to fix everything for, and then wasn’t. Leaning in close as if nothing had ever happened.

Why couldn’t he tell you, at least give you a heads-up if he was reconnecting with her? You know it shouldn’t bother you as much as it does, but the fact that he’s hiding it stings. Are you overthinking this?

When he lifts his head from her ear and scans the room, his eyes landing right on yours for a brief second just to look away, you don’t think you are. His attention shifts back to Haeun as if he hadn’t seen you at all. What the fuck?

You question what’s the point of having eyes to see when you are now forced to witness Jeongguk leaving the room with Haeun hanging her draggy weight on his arm, his smile cockish as he helps her up by her waist, fingers digging dangerously close to the curve of her perfectly shaped peach.

Their chemistry is undeniable, hands finding skin with unpracticed ease. It must be the way Jeongguk can effortlessly work his charm with any girl he deems attractive enough to fuck, his smirk and the way he lets his nose scrunch almost timidly, as if you can’t see right through him, making women potty in his sculpted hands.

The prospect of your best friend getting laid by the girl he was almost ready to change it all for should make you happy. Smile, at least.

Instead, you frown, mindlessly taking long sips from the straw in your glass and letting it stir your too watered-down cocktail that lacks any real flavor. You don’t even try to find answers as to how another drink landed right on the counter you rest your back on, but you’re glad for it.

You’re more upset at the fact that he decided not to tell you anything. You would have helped him through it, supported him, advised him on what to do, how to move in such a situation. But even if he didn’t need any of this, you would have appreciated just knowing. From him.

The ways in which the two of you are intertwined right at this moment don’t exactly allow him to completely leave you unaware of his actions. It’s not fair.

But then, are you even supposed to feel like this in the first place? Is only sex supposed to have this impact on you? Is even the smallest cell in his brain producing a thought that might take him back to you, and could it compare to a third of what you think and feel?

Does he not get that tingly sensation with you, ‘cause he’s used to it? ‘Cause you’re nothing too different nor special from all the choice he has laid at his feet, nothing out of the usual routine?

A gentle hand on your arm jolts you out of your thoughts. The touch is delicate, but the way it pulls you from your spiral is rough, making you stumble on the already wobbly stool you’re sitting on. When you look to your side, Namjoon meets you with a warm smile.

You hadn’t even noticed him being back next to you, and you figure that’s probably how that drink found its way in your hands. You’re a deer caught in headlights as you look at him, then down at the almost empty glass, then back at the boy. Your eyes widen impossibly more, and you struggle with finding a louder volume to your voice, almost fading with the music, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to finish this all by myself.”

You remember him saying he’d get a drink for the two of you to share before leaving you with your haunting thoughts. He just laughs in a way that should soothe your nerves, but it doesn’t, “It’s okay. You look like you needed it. I’m getting another one for me and catching up with some of my friends over there. I’ll be back in a bit, alright?”

“Yeah, totally. No problem,” your words roll out your tongue in a slurred hurry, face already turning to the opposite side of the room, and you’re not even sure what you’re agreeing on. You just feel Namjoon slip away from the seat next to yours again.

The brief interaction was enough for Jeongguk to have time to completely disappear from your strict observing, and just like the boy who should have had your undivided attention tonight, he equally slips away. From your vision, from the party. And from you. He’s with Haeun now, after all. And you’re alone.

Being truthful, Jeongguk is once again slipping away from his problems only. He doesn’t know how he ended up with Haeun by his side, but when he found your big, confused eyes in the midst of what should have been his escape for the night, he thinks he could name a few reasons.

It’s suffocating, the grip you have on him. He can almost feel one of your slim, delicate hands around his throat. He’s a dirty little sadist, of course he enjoys the pain. But he shouldn’t, so he runs from it until his back hits the wall, and the hold only gets tighter.

There’s nothing to do but face the truth. And you’re in front of him, eyes lost and inviting him to tell you. What should be easy for him to say, what he owes you. But the words get stuck in his throat, right where you’re pressing, and he feels like he might stop breathing.

He could die like this, with your narrowed orbs pitying him, and he badly wishes you would call him a coward. The hold is just enough to hurt him, not to make him lose his senses; if anything, it only makes his head spin around the one thought he wants to avoid. You.

With the quickest distraction he could get his hands on, he keeps adding to it: Haeun clinging to his side, he steps out the packed room to light the nth cigarette, the smoke clouding his vision and making the image of you fade from behind his eyelids. You release your hand from him and disappear. He almost whines. He misses you already. But the faint ache is a reminder.

Instead, in front of him is the only girl he should have truly avoided. Haeun is another reminder. Not because she looks similar to you, you’re way prettier. You’re beautiful.

No, it’s just because he remembers Haeun being his first victim, using her to bury something stronger growing inside him. But it didn’t work then, and it doesn’t work now.

She’s the only girl he tried his luck with to avoid his now unavoidable feelings for you. Then, he physically couldn’t touch another woman beside you. So he started flirting with more cigarettes and alcohol. Maybe some joints then and there.

Jeongguk would love to know why he prefers destroying himself rather than just be the confident man he lets everyone else think he is, go up to you and be honest, like you make it so easy for him to be. The fact that it almost slipped out of him more than a couple times scares him.

It shouldn’t. He wants to fall into that soothing caress, but could he even handle the possibility of you simply, and rightfully if you deemed it the correct choice, rejecting him?

The answer is no. He can’t afford losing your touch on him, your lashes fluttering when you look up at him, your fingers tracing secret maps on his back. He wonders if you’re outlining the safest ways for him to escape from the maze he himself created, of which he forgot the exit to.

With Haeun pressing herself to his side, he thinks he’d rather stay trapped there at this point. A maze built by lies, letting you believe he’s fucking other girls on the side when he feels sickened just by the thought of it, his hand now coming up to push the girl back to a safe distance. Built by insecurities, preferring having you think that you’re simply one of the many he has when he firmly believes you’re the only one that the universe has especially assigned him to.

It’s making him lose his mind, while you live unaware, free from the truth. He’s sure in the stretch that went from yesterday, when you told him about your fucking partner, and tonight, seeing you so close to said partner’s face, your dress custom-made by the hands of every angel populating heaven, Jeongguk developed some kind of clinical illness. The flame of jealousy in his toned tummy has eaten him whole.

And he feels slightly ashamed of himself knowing this is how he found himself circling back to his first poor attempt at running away from you, in the form of a short girl, her eyes now questioning him just like yours had done earlier. Haeun furrows her brows, “Are you seriously doing this again?”

Jeongguk sighs, glancing away to take a long drag from his cigarette that fills his lungs and almost aches. He avoids the eye contact that would be needed for a conversation like the one he’s forced to have — one that wouldn’t have occured in the first place if he could just be a normal person — instead he looks back to the room through the glass doors, “I’m sorry, Hae. I— I can’t do this—“

“Yo, Gguk. You need to come with me now. ___ is throwing up in the bathroom.”

It’s Taehyung sliding the glass door open with more force than what he usually puts, and right now nobody would tell he’s the same one always advising his friends to be delicate with it. The look on his face is panicked and it quickly reflects in Jeongguk’s eyes, flickering between his friend and Haeun.

Next, his reflexes are quicker. He steps inside the house, skipping past Taehyung and the flood of college students dancing their Friday away to Usher and seemingly not caring about the urgency written all over his expression.

He makes it to the bathroom where people have started to crowd around as if lining up to an unmissable show, and he doesn’t care if his pushes are too rough as he makes his way through.

You’re quite literally hugging the toilet, your face one with the lid as a few girls try and help you with your hair. The moment they see Jeongguk, it’s like they know he’s the one that you need, that he’s finally here and you’re in good hands. He shoots them a quick nod as they step aside and then, he’s immediately crouching next to you, gently gathering your long locks into his fist.

He moves some stray strands behind your ears while you keep letting it all out, and as much as his broad back is enough to hide you from watchful eyes, he can still hear murmurs from onlookers.

It’s as Jeongguk is debating whether he should cuss them out or keep his attention on you that Taehyung comes to promptly clear the crowd, closing the bathroom door behind him only after making sure his friend doesn’t need any more help.

Jeongguk appreciates the gesture, knowing how overwhelmed you can get in these scenarios with too many people around. Although, no matter how calm he appears for your sake, his heart races even as you seem to settle and sit on the tiled floor, your back resting against the cool wall.

You gulp down a few times, squeezing your eyes to try and ground yourself, the way you can feel Jeongguk’s hand hold the side of your leg, his thumb delicately brushing the inside of your thigh, definitely helping.

“Toots,” he whispers, face close to your own, “Hey, doll. You’re okay now, hm? What happened?” His voice is low, slow, almost scared of flowing past his lips.

When you open your eyes he’s directly in front of you, squatting down to stay on your level, and his brows are drawn high in worry.

You sniff, your voice still rough from the scratching on your throat, “Fucking— Jimin. I met him in the kitchen and we mixed too much shit together—“

“Weren’t you with Kim Namjoon?” Jeongguk interrupts you, both his tone and the way his eyebrows now dip inquisitive.

You shrug, looking down at your fingers fidgeting, “Dunno. Why the fuck am I still not sober,” the way you tone the question doesn’t make it sound like one, and you end up giggling at yourself, hiccuping in the process.

Jeongguk sighs, unconsciously tightening his hold around your leg, his fingers digging and making you whimper subtly. He notices, soothing the skin only to take both his hands to scoop you up by your armpits, lifting both your bodies on your feet.

You yelp, throwing your weight on him with another one of your senseless chuckles, looking up at his bothered face through your lashes. He straightens your posture with wide palms on your waist, throwing one of your arms around his shoulders and causing you to step out of the small room on your tiptoes. He grumbles, “I’m taking you back to the dorm now. And we’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

“Talk about what?”

“Namjoon.”

You stay quiet as the both of you, your body snug against his, walk through the party and out the house to reach Jeongguk’s car. Your thoughts are sluggish, failing to grasp why he’d even want to talk about Namjoon. Isn’t he just a nice guy? You’re more concerned with Jeongguk’s seemingly irked tone and the distressed way his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek.

A soft, involuntary whine escapes you when you think you might be the reason for that, shuffling yourself closer into his warmth, but the contact is brief as he gently settles you into the passenger seat and clicks the belt, then he closes your door and circles the car to the driver’s side.

Awkward. The only sound that can be heard is the soft hum of the engine, beside the fuzzy buzz in your ears. You feel laughter bubbling up in your chest but you hold it there, turning to study Jeongguk’s side profile. Inhaling, you start, “Can you— can I put on—”

“No.”

Your smile falters, “What? C’mon, give me the aux.”

“The last thing I want right now is to listen to those songs.”

Any previous tipsy instinct that made you want to laugh at the situation fade with his words and the way his grip on the steering wheel says more than what he’s letting on. You’re hazy, but his clenched jaw and laser focus on the road make you sit up straighter, adjusting your slouched posture and the skirt of your dress with it, pulling it further down your thighs.

The tension coming off him feels so heavy that it leads to irrational, childish tears pricking your eyes, and you sound defeated when you whisper, “Are you mad at me?”

He brakes a little too hard at the red light, and you both lurch slightly forward. Jeongguk seems to realize just now that he’s unfairly taking his anger out on you, and the way you let out the question in the smallest voice makes his heart speed up, turning to you with apprehension, “No, toots. No, why would I be? I’m mad at that fucker.”

“He was just talking with some of his—”

“He left you alone. He was supposed to take care of you. Not let you get fucking wasted.”

Jeongguk sounds final, his tone allowing no more condoning nor excuses for the tall guy now left behind you, back at the party. But you don’t seem to focus too much on the meaning of his words, rather you bask in the consequences of them. He’s not upset with you!

That spurs you to contradict him further, this time on the accusation he threw at you, but it’s less than credible when you say it through a sheepish smile that unconsciously made its way on your lips at the protective edge to his tone, “I’m not fucking wasted.”

Jeongguk only sighs, but you can see him visibly relax, shoulders going down and leaning against the back of his seat, right hand coming to pat your bare knee with a small smile on his pierced lips.

You share a look that fully sobers you up only to get you high all over again off his doe eyes, the artificial lights dotting a universe of their own in those orbs, undiscovered galaxies and planets inviting you to move there, even with no water, no oxygen, no way of surviving.

When the soft hue of the red light reflecting on the side of your face morphs to green, he moves his attention back on the road, taking his hand with it to shift gears. Then, he concedes, “Put on the playlist.”

You blink, a little taken aback by his sudden shift in mood, but just as quickly you recover. Your brain seems to be able to focus on one thing at a time either way, so you don’t ponder on your insides collectively moving at the way he looked at you and instead reach for the aux cord, fingers tapping on your phone screen absentmindedly, with a conscience of their own.

Music interrupts the quiet, and you can’t help but join, “The night we met I knew I, needed you so. And if I had the chance I’d, never let you go. Sing with me!”

Jeongguk breaks into a grin, no matter how much he fights it, “You’re so fucking wasted.”

“So won’t you say you love me? I’ll make you so proud of me. We’ll make ‘em turn their heads every place we go, so won’t you please,” Be My Baby by The Ronettes fills the previous silent tension, which you seemingly already forgot everything about, using Jeongguk’s free hand as your own personal microphone, folding it in a fist between your palms.

Jeongguk would never say it out loud, especially now, after he only pretended he had to be begged to put it on, that he’s actually grown attached to this playlist. Started as a little mishap and turned into something that got under his skin, much like you have.

Its creation came about from a comically embarrassing moment that gave you ammunition to tease him for weeks. Although, he’s glad for it when he reflects deep enough: the whole episode helped shape the bond between you two, adding to its foundation.

He still doesn’t know how you managed to slip so sneakily into his dorm that evening, but what’s sure is that he wasn’t expecting you, taking the time of his life in his bathroom, fresh out of the shower. Simply following his usual routine, one that you wouldn’t have exactly considered usual since you only ever knew him as an avid Drake listener, he hummed along to Elvis Presley’s Can’t Help Falling in Love flowing softly from his phone speaker.

It wasn’t just that, of course, because then he started styling his wet hair in an exaggerated pompadour and fully got into character, strutting dramatic poses in front of the mirror and even practicing Elvis’s iconic curl of the lip. If his soul was by any chance watching over the scene, you’d hoped he’d agree with you that Jeongguk was truly giving Austin Butler a run for his money.

The private show sadly ended when he caught sight of you in the foggy glass, your lips sealed shut to try and hold your delighted laughter, but it got ripped out of you in the form of an obnoxious snort the moment his eyes went wide in horror and his face crimson in shame.

It was hell for a few weeks after that. You didn’t let him off so easily, teasing him for being a secret softie with a love for old-school romance under all the layers of his tough fuckboy image that only ever seemed to handle trappy beats.

When you jokingly suggested he might as well get fully into the act and start calling you toots or something, he didn’t back down from the tease, scoffing at you with narrowed eyes. Somewhere along the way, the dry, sardonic tone with which he first used that pet name on you stuck, and it became less of a joke, more of an endearing way to refer to you, and only you.

Before either of you could second-guess it, the playlist was born. You two crafted it together in fits of laughter and late-night texts, with Jeongguk suggesting songs from his secret stash and you contributing the ones you grew up on.

It quickly became the soundtrack to many of your aimless car rides, something that neither of you acknowledged outright but silently cherished. Sometimes, you’d get so carried away and slip into the roles of a ‘60s couple, playfully reciting cheesy lines back and forth.

No matter how much Jeongguk pretends he hates it to save what’s left of his bad boy reputation, he really doesn’t. Not even a little bit. Even the way he rolls his eyes and groans isn’t enough to hide the spark in his eyes when you sing along.

He feels worse than a pubescent teenager when he lets his guard slip to hear you hum words he can only imagine are just for him, meant in the way he wants. You swing side by side and smile up at him with dimples digging long slits into your cheeks, and he has to act as if it makes him feel completely normal and not like he’s going to crash his car any second.

Each lyric that spills from your mouth feels like it’s tying him down, even with your sweet voice a little unsteady, thanks to whatever is still left from the night’s drinks. You’re so not aware of what it does to him.

Your eyes are on the road, but Jeongguk’s linger on you, his fingers unconsciously tapping the steering wheel to the tune.

“I’d save every day like a treasure, and then, again, I would spend them with you.”

Jeongguk purposefully veers off onto streets he doesn’t need to take, buying himself a few extra minutes with you, but you don’t notice and he pretends to not know either. Would never admit it’s because he wants to hear you sing a little more, and that this ongoing joke between the two of you might be his favorite thing in the whole world.

“But there never seems to be enough time to do the things you want to do once you find them. Hold on, this one’s a little lower. I’ll find my note, wait,” you’re mostly talking to yourself, cheek pressed to the cool glass of the window, but you glance at Jeongguk as if seeking for approval, clearing your throat, “I’ve looked around enough to know that you’re the one I want to go through time with.”

Just as Time in a Bottle by Jim Croce fades out, Jeongguk pulls into the campus parking lot, turning the engine off and cutting the music with it. None of you move right away, accepting the stillness in the car.

You don’t accept the silence, though, letting your mind speak a thought that has been nagging at you, “Can you fuck me here? Right now?”

The way you voice the request would make anybody who didn’t understand English think you’d just asked for something as mundane as a glass of water, your eyes unfaltering, a small smile on your waiting lips, voice barely slicing through the quiet. It’s almost as if you don’t know it’s the kind of thing that could derail Jeongguk’s entire thought process.

Jeongguk lightly chokes on his own breath, giving a few coughs before turning to you, his tattooed hand messing his hair further, “Jesus Christ, ___. You know I can’t.”

You tilt your head, considering him, as if this is a serious debate rather than drunken rambling, “Why not?”

Jeongguk can only sigh. He takes in your disheveled state and notices the way your exposed skin prickles with the cold, reaching for the leather jacket he carelessly threw on the backseats before heading to the party, having had no idea you’d be the one wearing it by the end of the night.

He wraps it gently around your shoulders, moving sticky, stray strands of hair from your face, “You’re so drunk. Look at you.”

“I told you I’m not,” you protest weakly, but your confidence falters when his fingers ghost over your face.

“There’s vomit in your hair,” he shuts you bluntly, tone softer than the honest words.

“Oh,” your stubbornness doesn’t work this time, and you’re mortified as you glance down at your lap, where his fingers fall to mindlessly play with the zip of his bomber jacket, brushing your tummy in the process. Your voice doesn’t sound so sure now, especially when each subtle graze sends small shocks through you, “That’s disgusting.”

The soft chuckle he lets out has you stealing a look upward, and when you catch his expression your slowed down brain can only come to the conclusion that maybe he doesn’t find you all that disgusting: he sports a rare, wide curve of his bunny smile, eyes crinkling when that same fondness finds its way onto your lips. You can’t help what they do next, a mind of their own as you rest them on his own mouth, the tip of his nose tickling your cheek.

It’s the faintest of kisses, and it’s delicate, fleeting, over far too soon, but you’re the one to pull back first no matter how much longer you need it to be, “That was probably disgusting too.”

As you rest your back on the seat again, his eyes are still closed, and they flutter open as slowly as a smile stretches on his mouth when he meets you. You’re giving him a look he doesn’t deserve, one he shouldn’t lean into.

His voice is a whisper, and it fans over your face, still close to his, “Not at all.”

Gleaming eyes scan every angle of you, as if trying to find anything that’ll hold him back from what he really wants to do. But, of course, his need only grows when he lets his gaze wander down, then up again.

He glances to the side with a gulp, moving his body back to reach for the car door handle, “You think you can walk or should I carry you?”

“Carry me, please,” you mumble, not even pondering on the first option, and the moment the sound leaves your lips he’s out and reaching for your side, opening your door and scooping you up like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

The walk to his dorm is a blur, with you dozing off in his warmth and being lulled by the hums escaping him and reverberating through his chest, melodies of the earlier songs playing against your ear.

You regain awareness when a splash of warm water cascades over your now naked body, the sensation startling enough to make your lashes flutter against your damp cheeks. The water runs over your face, washing away the remnants of the night, the drowsy yet oddly light sensation taking over you causing a giggle to echo against the walls.

You’re still too disoriented to process the tenderness with which Jeongguk’s hand moves, brushing through your soaked strands of hair and moving them from where they flattened on your face, combing through the sticky locks.

With half-open eyes, you’re met with the sight of him in front of you, standing close enough without needing to step into the small space with you, his brows furrowed as he works the shampoo through your hair. It’s a soothing, slow motion, the one he massages your scalp with, and it only melts you further into sweet slumber.

If it weren’t for one of his hands resting tightly on your hip, grounding you as the scent of the shampoo mingles with the steam curling around you, you would have gladly swayed into his palm, letting your weak body fall into his strong one.

You sniff, leaning into his care, voice small and oddly sincere, “I’m sorry for,” hiccup, “taking you away from Haeun. You two seem close again.”

Jeongguk stills for a moment, his fingers pausing in your hair before resuming their soft motions. He pretends he didn’t hear, and you pretend you never talked in the first place when he guides you to steady yourself as your knees wobble, “Hey, stand still. You’ll get shampoo in your eyes. Close them.”

You obey, letting your eyelids drop shut as you feel his hand gently tilt your head under the spray, his touch as tender as the words he isn’t saying.

If you weren’t a victim of both sleepiness and alcohol at this very moment, your thoughts would be racing each other like eager contenders in the Overthinker Marathon, each one fighting tooth and nail for the gold medal. They’d be dissecting every little detail of the night— the way Jeongguk had ignored you, his lingering hand on Haeun’s waist, only to be there the second you needed him, the girl from earlier not even worth mentioning.

Instead, your every thinking cell has taken a rare vacation, lounging together on an imaginary green field, clinking glasses filled with leftover cocktails from earlier, lazily watching clouds drift by.

Although there’s one cell in particular, too tipsy to sit still. It hops around gleefully, urging your lips to move before the Thinking Cell General can intervene. The way it jumps up and down, up and down, makes you giggle as you blurt out, “I don’t know if it’s the water, but I’m very wet.”

The silence that follows is thick, punctuated only by the sound of water cascading down your back. Jeongguk freezes as if the words have physically reached out and yanked him into stunned stillness. He can only let his throat bob in a visible swallow and look away, warning you in a strained mutter, “___. This is your last warning. Stop teasing me.”

You whine, pathetically wiggling your weak and pliant body in his hold to seek for some kind of reaction, but he doesn’t budge. He’s uncharacteristically focused on his tasks, ensuring every trace of shampoo rinses from your hair, rather than your hardened nipples bouncing with your stubborn movements.

But you recognise the way his jaw clenches so tight it must hurt, how he refuses to let his gaze wander lower where the steam of water outlines your form. His restraint is razor-thin, yet he holds it tightly, breathing only slightly uneven.

You’re not deterred by his warning; you never are. It’s the tiny tracks in his resolve that keep you pressing forward, voice laced with a vulnerability that makes his hand twitch against your scalp, “Just… I just need your fingers. Please.”

Jeongguk exhales sharply through his nose, but he doesn’t answer. Instead, he angles the spray to wash the last suds away, hyper-focused on the practical task as though it’s a lifeline to his dwindling self-control.

But you’re persistent. You reach behind you, fingers messily finding the knob to twist the water off, and with the spray halting you’re left only with the hum of the bathroom fan and the faint drip of water.

Your other hand finds his, guiding his wide palm to rest on your lower stomach, just above where your want is written in every inch of your body. You whisper, plead clear in your tone, ”You know I want this. Won’t ever regret it. I’m conscious enough to be sure of that.”

Jeongguk huffs, his chest rising and falling as he stares down at you, fingers flexing slightly against your skin. He closes his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply as if accepting defeat. He can’t win this battle.

The brown-haired boy steps into the shower, the small space shrinking even further with the addition of his broader frame, forcing you to back up against the wall. Fully dressed, water clings to his fabric, and the contrast of his damp clothes against your bare, exposed skin makes you irrationally wetter.

Jeongguk keeps silent, and at this point you don’t care how desperate you look, pushing yourself against him and getting his clothes wetter in the process. It pushes him to initiate a torturous path along your skin, using his middle finger to trace a journey from your chest, savoring the way your breath hitches, down to your warm core.

The droplets of water he collects on the way are used to spread your puffy lips and press right on your sensitive nub, making you gasp. You’re a trembling mess from the simple motion, and he has to use his free hand to steady you against the wall.

Your breasts aren’t left without being taken care of, because the moment he begins circling motions on your clit that have you seeing stars, he lowers his head to envelop one of your tits in his ravenous mouth, teeth teasing it punitively, all while looking up at you with sliced, sinful eyes.

He’s greedy, and you can’t believe he managed to hide it so well until now. But his resolve crumbles the more he revels in the way you fall apart for him, and he loses control on your chest. The sensation is sharp, delicious, and the contrast between the harshness of his bite and the softness of his tongue has you whimpering.

You’re ashamedly aware of how close you already are, his digits picking a fast speed that urges you to let go and coat him in your juices. He knows, simply from the way you let your mouth fall agape and release loud moans in the steamy air, pushing your nipples further in his swollen lips.

When he inserts one finger in your warm hole, you jolt in his secure hold, eyebrows shot upwards in the shock of your sudden orgasm, one that hits you all too harshly. It drags on deliciously, Jeongguk never wanting it to end, the slurping sound of his sucking on your tits making your surrounding spin, along with his thumb accompanying the way his single digits thrusts into you.

He only stops when you unconsciously run from his doings, slim hand wrapping weakly around his wrist, and he retreats with one last wet stripe along the curve of your boob, promptly collecting your taste from his fingers, and he thoroughly hums around them, eyes closed and cheeks hollowed.

You think you could come again from the sight alone. Panting, you smile through your ragged breaths, “Fuck. Thanks.”

Five minutes later, no one would bet you’re the same girl that begged him for his fingers and came in record time around them. Now, you sit serenely on the toilet lid, wrapped up in Jeongguk’s warmest hoodie. The oversized fabric swallows your frame, knees tucked under it as you hug them close to your chest. You look as innocent as ever.

Jeongguk stands in front of you, meticulously brushing through your damp hair with practiced gentleness, each stroke of the comb a soothing lullaby. You rest your chin lazily on your folded arms, eyes closed, the edges of sleep blurring your thoughts.

You let out a contented sigh before murmuring, words unfiltered, “You’d make the perfect boyfriend. You always take care of me. And kiss me when I need it.”

The motions of the brush stop for a fraction of a second before resuming, and what you hear next is Jeongguk’s throat clearing, his voice low and almost shaky, “That sounds so very wrong, toots.”

“What do you mean?” You don’t open your eyes as you ask the question, the warmth of his presence and the excuse of the last traces of alcohol still flowing in your tired body making you bolder than usual.

“You want me to be your boyfriend?”

“In another life, maybe. Yes,” you don’t waste time replying, words carrying a dreamy quality, “I mean, would be cool.”

“Cool?” He chuckles, but it’s the kind that’s half-exasperation and half-something else entirely, voice strained with an edge of desperation too, “God, I don’t even know why I’m still putting up with you.”

You only nuzzle closer into the borrowed hoodie, giving voice to your next thought, your thinking cells now hosting a 60s themed party, “Be my, be my baby. My one and only baby.”

The sound of your singing fades under the whirring roar of the hairdryer, and Jeongguk is quietly thankful for the way it drowns your sweet hums completely, fearing if he hears another one of those tipsy love confessions leaving your lips he might drop to his knees, undone by something he knows he can’t claim.

You rest your head against his stomach, full weight leaning on his standing figure, his long digits pulling through your strands. If you’d look up at your best friend for even one fleeting second, you’d probably laugh at the concentration on his expression, his only goal drying your hair enough to not have you waking up with a headache the following day.

You sniffle and snuggle impossibly closer to him, the heat radiating from his tummy and the white noise lulling you further into drowsiness, every careful motion of his hand coaxing you closer to sleep.

When your phone pings from the bathroom counter, the sudden buzz makes you jolt slightly. You lift your head sluggishly and gesture toward the phone, mouthing up to Jeongguk, “Pass it.”

He hands it to you without turning off the hairdryer, keeping an eye on your sleepy movements. You blink at the bright light for a moment before your expression shifts, eyes widening.

You’re completely jolted awake at the only notification on your home screen: it's Namjoon.

You tap Jeongguk’s stomach with the heel of your hand— softly at first, then with increasing urgency. The repeated motion forces him to stop the device and place it on the counter as he looks down at you, trying to peek at the screen, “What?”

You hiccup and sniff before blurting out, “Namjoon. He texted me”

The boy that was just now carefully drying your hair scoffs, arms crossed over his chest, “What does that asshole want?”

The response to the rhetorical question doesn’t come, either because you decide to ignore it purposefully or unconsciously: you look totally engulfed by the words on your otherwise empty chat with Namjoon, and Jeongguk can’t help but subtly lean his body lower to read the same texts you’re going through.

Kim Namjoon [4:26 a.m.]: Hey. Sorry for texting late, I heard from someone you threw up back at the party. I’m so sorry. I completely lost sight of you in that mess. Are you feeling any better? Very sorry again.

Kim Namjoon [4:27 a.m.]: It’s totally okay if you don’t want to hear from me again. But I wouldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t at least try to make it up to you.

Kim Namjoon [4:27 a.m.]: I’d really like to take you out on a date. Would you let me?

Jeongguk kisses his teeth irkedly, “Why the fuck does he text like Prince William? Fucking English major,” and he truly tried his best to sound unaffected, but the words leave his mouth before he even knows he’s thinking of them.

Luckily, you don’t seem to notice, reading the message aloud like you can’t quite believe it yourself, “He said he’d like to go on a date with me. Like, he asked me on a date. And said he would like it. To go on a date—”

“Yes, we got it.”

“He doesn’t hate me, Gguk!” Once again, his petty comments go unnoticed as your face lights up, eyes crinkling with joy as you practically beam up at him.

Jeongguk wants to be annoyed, but he simply can’t when he’s met with all the stars in the universe right in your glossy, tired eyes. He swallows hard and forces a soft chuckle, “No, he doesn’t, toots. Anyone would be crazy to hate you.”

The grin on your lips only widens, nose scrunching adorably as you let your cheek sheepishly brush against your shoulder, “Oh my god, Gguk. I’m going on a date with him! Heh.”

“That’s nice,” he says, picking up the hairdryer again before your words can settle too heavily in the space between you. “I’m not finished with your hair, though. Stay still.”

The device roars to life once more, its noise filling the room and covering your excited giggles. Jeongguk keeps brushing through your hair with steady motions, his face impassive, but he feels something tighten, heavy and unyielding in his chest.

He tells himself the noise is a blessing, a shield from the silence he wouldn’t know how else to fill—or from the sound of his own voice, betraying him in ways he can’t afford.

────୨ৎ────

“I’ll miss the sex when Namjoon will ask me to be his girlfriend.”

In the quiet of the library, your sudden whisper startles Jeongguk. The chair screeches under him and it gains the both of you a few annoyed looks. He nods in apology at their way, moving closer to the table again, and he has to blink a few times before he can even meet your eyes. The scattered pens all over the white surface looked more interesting either way.

“When he— his— what?” He feels pathetic for being unable to even form a senseful sentence, but there’s no absolute way he blames his brain for that. It’s his heart, stuttering along with the barely intelligible question.

It cracks at the middle the more your grin splits your face in half, nose scrunching adorably, and he may be a horrible friend but he can’t bring himself to return your irony, nor the masked excitement under it.

If he were handed pen and paper and asked to write about how he feels right at this moment, he wouldn’t put down a single thing. Not because there isn’t anything to say. He fears your innocent teasing has done something catastrophic, snapping that one damned string that connected his brain to his heart, and the two aren’t communicating. Jeongguk is in the middle of two angered parents, fighting and on the brink of divorce. That’s what he gets for being a total pussy.

You shrug, frowning slightly when all you’re faced with is his blank expression, eyes unresponsive and detachedly looking elsewhere, but you keep yours on him, studying even the small movements, “I mean, he’s a nice guy. I think he’s serious about getting to know me.”

The word serious causes an involuntary twitch of his head, tilting almost imperceptibly to the side, and he sounds way too defensive, “And are you?”

Furrowing your eyebrows at his unexpected reaction, you return to your previous mindless doodling, keeping your voice low, “Well, he’s cute. Let’s see where this thing goes.”

“What about me?”

The question catches the both of you off guard. Your pencil halts as you glance at him through the corner of your eye, and even if you can’t see him clearly, the way his dark orbs widen is almost comical that you would laugh in any other situation. But now, the air is oddly tense and it makes your nose scrunch in awkwardness.

He breaks it with a chuckle, a subtle tremor in it that luckily goes unnoticed by you but that will probably keep him up at night for the next five years, and he lightly shoves your shoulder in an effort at feigning ease, “You really wanna pass on this dick?”

“God, you’re gross,” the annoyed roll of your eyes has Jeongguk releasing a breath he didn’t realize he was holding; it’s odd, but that’s just who he is.

The second you return to weightless banter, he’s back in his element. He can smirk, tease and deflect— these are tools he’s mastered over the months. But the thought of stripping naked for your eyes to see, and not in the sexual way you two engage in almost every night, terrifies him.

The waters are safe for what seems a fraction of a second before you pull him down in the deep, dark seas again, this dynamic between you foreign. While it is a simple, innocent question, your deceptive tone triggers unfamiliarity within him, “Besides, how’s it going with you and Haeun?”

“Huh? Oh. Haeun, yes,” his attempt at buying himself extra time is laughable, especially when Mr. Brain is now yelling at Ms. Heart for always wanting to get in the way of things he can handle alone, “Wonderfully. We— She— Huh, kissed me.”

Ms. Heart is furious. She has no other choice but to reach in her purse and slap the divorce papers on the dinner table, the glasses clinking against the plates, and Jeongguk flinches. Brain is speechless, clueless on how to react.

You only seem slightly taken aback, eyebrows raising in mild surprise, “Really? That’s nice.”

Jeongguk is equally clueless, subtly squeezing his eyes shut as if hoping to wake up somewhere else entirely, maybe in an ideal world where Kim Namjoon doesn’t exist and Mr. Brain and Ms. Heart are happily married.

Instead, he’s still in the library, and you’re still sitting next to him, scribbling on your English textbook. He frowns, getting pitiably lost in the view of your side profile, “Yeah, nice. Huh, when’s your date?”

When you glance up at him, you seem to be realizing just how odd it is for the two of you to spend this much time talking about your respective hook ups, and you cringe slightly at the unusual formality, wishing Jeongguk would just tease you like he usually does when you tell him about your untruthful and made up sexual adventures.

You purse your lips in thought, “Tomorrow, actually.”

“Oh. He’s going fast.”

“I like that.”

“I know you do.”

No matter the effort you put into trying to hide your amusement, a snort escapes you, and you quickly look away to recover from the childish grin spreading on your lips. You shake your head, closing the book in front of you, “You’re fucking disgusting.”

Jeongguk only smirks in an oddly proud way, nodding at your flustered state when he realizes he successfully managed yet again to shift the conversation from topics he doesn’t want to hear or talk about. He shrugs, “You just said that.”

“And I’ll say it again.”

“Whatever,” a small chuckle follows the dismissal, his hand coming to brush through his fluffy hair, getting too long for his liking, “I really wanted to see you tomorrow.”

Once again, Jeongguk is way too honest, way too easily. Ms. Heart is marching hastily with Mr. Brain walking close behind, trying to make sense of the situation and pushing her to reconsider her actions, but it’s no use: she’s tired, and sick of being walked over, again and again.

He doesn’t like the underlying meaning behind that, and wishes Mr. Brain would grow a pair and just swoon her back into love again. Jeongguk doesn’t like the genuine surprise etched across your face either, or, well, he doesn’t like the effect it has on him: it’s almost unbearable to accept that the blush dusting your cheeks, the one you’re probably unaware of, is caused by his unfiltered honesty. Because sincere bluntness isn’t exactly something he tries to show. Then, why does it spill out of him uncontrollably? Why— why do you look so beautiful like this?

“Hm,” your smile is small, but your dimple betrays it, Jeongguk’s whole resolve cracking with the way you sound dangerously decisive, “Too bad. You’re late.”

Jeongguk shouldn’t overthink this. You’re simply engaging in the usual dynamic, teasing him like always, no reason for his palms to sweat. He shouldn’t panic over the way nothing about what you said feels simple, nor usual, and your tone carries more than what you both want the words to mean.

He doesn’t know if it’s a warning or a test—or worse, the truth. Maybe he’s imagining it. Maybe Brain just misinterpreted the comment, too distracted by its constant squabble with Heart, both of them ignoring Jeongguk, who is still sitting at the cluttered kitchen table with his plate half-full, surrounded by a mess of inky emotions he doesn’t have the courage to clean up.

The sound of forks clinking against plates grates against his ears, drowning out the hurried excuses spilling from your mouth, the ones you’re babbling and making up along the way of gathering your things and standing up from the round table, shouldering your bag in the same hurry you left his room with before the next time he saw you was nose to nose with Namjoon.

You huff, giving a small, tight lipped smile that should be meaningless, but to Jeongguk it isn’t, “I’ll go now. See you around?”

“Huh, sure. Let me know how it goes with Namsun.”

You roll your eyes at the playful attempt, his grin just as empty, “Right. Bye Gguk.”

You’re off the hallway before he can add anything else. Not that he would have been able to. Your bag swings with your big steps, slim hands coming to absently tug your plaid skirt lower, and Jeongguk thinks and thinks.

He realizes he really doesn’t want to know how your little date goes. Would rather shoot himself rather than hearing you talk about another guy taking you out to dinner, stealing you from him and sealing the end to whatever the two of you have.

His options are narrowed. He either commits in front of you and forever changes the trajectory of your life or does something about Namjoon. But why does the option of ending his life sound much easier than stepping up to big, buff Namjoon, infatuated with the same girl he likes?

Oh.

The admission jolts him. It’s a physical reaction that causes his chair to shriek again under his movements, but this time he’s not polite enough to apologize for it. He must look crazy, wide eyes burning holes into his hands planted steadily on the table in front of him.

The girl he likes. You’re the girl he likes.

And every signal is there. The spark he sought for now lights a nervous feeling in his stomach, its fireworks interrupting Brain and Heart’s incessant arguing.

Does he look stupid not doing anything for the girl he likes? Not fighting for the girl he’s been falling for all this time?

────୨ৎ────

It should be easy. It is easy.

Jeongguk can’t let the sleepless night spent reciting lines to his ceiling go to waste. He’s sure not even theater kids could match his determination. And as he marches across campus toward the gym, where the squeak of sneakers and the echo of grunts will lead him to the person needed to put the plan into action, he reviews step by step what he’s told himself to do. It’s a well-rehearsed script, each word, every calculated expression—he’s gone over it a hundred times, accounting for every reaction.

Step one, be casual. Friendly, even. Approach Namjoon like there’s nothing calculated about this interaction—no ulterior motives, no scheme brewing beneath the surface. Just a casual catch-up between two guys.

“What’s up, Kim,” when Jeongguk spots the slightly taller boy exercising at a steady walking pace on the treadmill, he immediately hops onto the free one beside him.

Namjoon startles slightly, then smiles with those stupid, charming dimples of his, and it’s one that Jeongguk would probably only give if forced, “Hey, Jeongguk. Long time no see.”

The brown-haired boy nods, setting the speed and quickly catching up to Namjoon. He keeps his tone deliberately cool, even borderline disinterested, “You been good?”

On his left, your almost-boyfriend shrugs, jogging along, “Yeah, just studying, man. What about you?”

“Pretty much the same,” he hasn’t cracked open a book in weeks, and that study session from yesterday was just an excuse to be with you. But he can’t afford to let his thoughts linger on you too long or he’ll lose focus. He needs focus. “You catch that last game?”

Step two, pretend to care about what Namjoon is saying and then proceed with the acting skills only to suddenly remember something totally random he wanted to mention.

“Fuck, don’t remind me. I was so sure we would win,” the sweating man sounds way too affected by the recent football match, and Jeongguk fears if he asks one more question for the sake of pretending he’ll never get to the actual point.

So, he goes straight to it, “Yeah, it was rough. Oh, by the way. You know ___, right?”

The simple mention of your name causes a small stutter in Namjoon’s step, but he recovers with the stupid smile from earlier, only this time it’s wider, “Of course I know her. Why do you ask?”

Step three, just be honest. He just has to lay it all out. Be straightforward. Tell him the truth about how he’s felt for so long and what this whole thing with you is doing to him. It’s not a confrontation—it’s a conversation. Jeongguk will politely explain that he’s liked you for a while now, that he’s been in your life long before Namjoon, and, as a courtesy, he’d appreciate it if he would step back from pursuing you.

Civil. Calm. Totally chill. There’s absolutely nothing to get worked up over.

"You really don't know? Have no idea?" Jeongguk asks, his voice dropping, tone more pointed than he intended.

Namjoon slows his treadmill slightly, glancing over with furrowed brows and a faintly amused smile. “No, man. Enlighten me.”

“She’s my fucking girlfriend.”

What. The. Fuck.

That wasn’t the plan. Not even close to the plan.

────୨ৎ────

You feel stupid.

Wrapped around in your warmest coat, you still shiver. It could be the way your legs are exposed under your wool dress, high black boots reaching just beneath your knees. But there’s something else to the chill, making you shake in fading jitters. The excitement of the evening you told yourself you were looking forward to morphs into anxiety, and the passing looks of people mean more than they should as minutes tick and tick; they seem to glance at you for too long, their looks heavy with what you can only imagine is judgment.

A young girl swaddled in small but striking details from head to toe — delicate earrings that catch the light, a scarf knotted perfectly at the neck, polished nails clutching the strap of an expensive-looking bag, hair done up in a neat slicked bun — glancing nervously at her surroundings can only mean one thing: she’s been stood up.

Namjoon was supposed to meet you in front of the cozy cafè just outside the campus, its warm tones and surely even warmer ambience so very inviting. Maybe you’d go in, order a steaming hot chocolate for yourself, and chalk this up as a lesson learned. But instead, you chose to wait outside, shifting on your tiptoes every so often, scanning the crowd for a glimpse of the first man to ask you out in what felt like ages.

You feel as though you’ll be forever destined to wait more when thirty minutes go by and Namjoon is nowhere to be seen.

You frown, swaying on your heels. What you feel is not disappointment— not at first. But that only causes you to feel worse about yourself when you realize you’re almost relieved the tall man hasn’t shown up, and he’s not here to turn fears into even scarier realities. The date would have given a concrete meaning to your actions, and the thought stirs something not exactly pleasant within you.

The scratch at the back of your mind grows harder to ignore, and no matter how much you try to shake it off, your subconscious finds ways back to it when your hand instinctively dives into the depths of the expensive purse you had specially chosen for this occasion. A purse meant to complement your carefully selected dark ensemble— an effort that now feels entirely wasted. You spent so much time getting ready for something you’re not ready for at all.

Pulling out your phone, your thumb scrolls to Jeongguk’s number with a natural automatism, typing before you even register why he’s the first person you feel the need to tell.

You [9:39 p.m.]: hi

You [9:39 p.m.]: namjoon stood me up lol

The typing bubbles appear faster than you anticipated, and as you watch them dance across the screen, you burrow deeper into the fragile warmth of your jacket, the tip of your nose numb from the cold.

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:40 p.m.]: Whattttttt????

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:40 p.m.]: He’s such an asshooooooole

Your first instinct is to snort at his reaction, a childish grin tugging at your lips, but it turns into a scowl when the more you reread the text, the more it sounds weird. He usually never texts like a six-year-old using his mom’s iPad.

You [9:40 p.m.]: yes he is

You [9:40 p.m.]: why are u textin so weird btw lol

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:41 p.m.]: Wym weirddd

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:41 p.m.]: I’m totally normal

You [9:41 p.m.]: wtv

You [9:42 p.m.]: u still wanna hang out?

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:42 p.m.]: Yes please

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:42 p.m.]: Want me to pick u up

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:42 p.m.]: Where are u rn

The head tilt is unconscious, but you feel it click in place. You’ve mentioned how Jeongguk is caring, how he can read your needs like no one else and caters to them quietly, but he’s never this pliant, this malleable. You like him because it’s hard to get him to bend (and you’d rather die than let Jeongguk know about this).

You [9:43 p.m.]: is ok

You [9:43 p.m.]: i’ll just walk

You [9:43 p.m.]: be there in 10

The walk usually takes you less than 10 minutes, but before meeting him, you decide to head back to your dorm and change out of these stupid fancy clothes you picked out for the date.

You keep your head low as you walk through the hallways, the full glam you put on impossible to miss as it sparkles under the fluorescent lights, just as your boots' heels echo through the corridors.

Taking off the dress and heels feels like peeling away the embarrassment of rejection, the weight of disappointment settling in as you realize you couldn’t prove to yourself that you could do it, that you can do it, take the leap and let something serious into your life.

You question whether you're even cut out for it when the guy who seemed perfect ended up proving the opposite.

Now, back in more comfortable clothes — Jeongguk's black hoodie from the other day and baggy sweatpants — you feel a little more like yourself. Scared of emotions, scared of commitment, no matter how many hours of your day are spent daydreaming about it.

The second you click the door of your room open, it’s like you can smell a weird shift in the air. And you do, literally sniff, scanning your surroundings for any hint of something burning or out of place.

But it’s not about the dorm in its physical state, no— it’s the odd silence that you’re met with, the people you’re used to sharing the space with now uncharacteristically careful with their volume.

“Oh my god, ___,” that is probably why you’re visibly startled by the sudden voice coming from your side, Iseul looking like containing excitement is the hardest task she’s ever been asked to deal with, just like the few other girls behind her, all practically vibrating, “You’re finally here.”

You furrow your brows, chuckling confusedly at the unusuality of it all— well, it’s not like you don’t get along with these people. It’s just that you’ve never gone over meaningless jokes and talks about the state of the dorm, plus you’ve never exactly been the center of attention like this. It feels off, and it reflects in your uncertain tone, “I am?”

“I’m so happy for you,” Binna chimes in next, grabbing your shoulders with way more enthusiasm than the level of your relationship with her would normally allow, and the way all of their heads nod along that it feels like a coordinated performance is starting to scare you.

“You’re… happy for—”

“I’ve always known you and Jeongguk were perfect for each other,” the affection dripping from Binna’s voice sickens you, maybe even more than the words she’s speaking.

Huh?

You swear you feel your heart skip a long beat before you mask it with an obnoxious, nervous laugh, only growing more when none of them crack a smile or react, “Me and— okay, is this a fucking joke?”

“C’mon, ___,” Iseul says, her sweet voice doing nothing to calm your tension, and if anything it only heightens it, “You don’t need to hide anymore, Jeongguk told Namjoon that you’re his girlfriend.”

Oh. So this must be a fucking joke.

And you can’t stand it.

You barely manage to shake off their relentless curiosity, the entire dorm suddenly buzzing with an interest in you after years of peaceful and civil indifference, and it only overwhelms you to the brim.

Fury boils in your chest as you step out of the building, the cold air failing to cool the anger that flares up within you. With every step, your frustration grows, and you hastily type on your phone as you make your way toward the one person that’s responsible for your temper.

You [10:07 p.m.]: what the actual fuck jeongguk

The response comes so quickly, almost as if he were waiting for you to type it, and you scoff in disbelief. In that moment, you feel a twisted sense of understanding with serial killers. It makes you question how much control you actually have over yourself.

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:07 p.m.]: What’s up?

You [10:07 p.m.]: why’s the whole dorm asking me how's it like to be your gf?

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:08 p.m.]: Eeehhhh???

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:08 p.m.]: That’s so weird

You’re actually gonna fuck this man up.

You [10:09 p.m.]: jeon jeongguk.

You [10:09 p.m.]: they’re saying you told namjoon i’m your girlfriend.

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:09 p.m.]: Don’t use my full name and the period please 🥺

You [10:10 p.m.]: i’ll fucking kill you.

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:10 p.m.]: You’re so hot when you’re like this

You [10:10 p.m.]: shut the hell up.

The banging on his door comes shortly after, and Jeongguk doesn’t even flinch. He knows it’s you, and frankly he was even expecting your arrival to be louder, hit him a little harder than it does. And when he lets you in, you storm in his space with no room for oxygen, door closing behind you but unable to contain the volume of your rage private.

“Can you explain why the whole campus thinks we’re dating? ‘Cause you’re not my boyfriend, and I’m not your girlfriend, and this is not fucking funny.”

But Jeongguk evidently does find it funny, chuckling under his hand coming to cover his mouth while the other one lifts to show you the bright screen of his cracked phone, “Really? The uni Instagram page is shipping us.”

“Shipping us?” You snatch the device from his hands, eyes widening as you scroll through the amount of stories posted in the last hour, everyone and their mother feeling entitled to weigh in on your nonexistent relationship. You whine, a hand resting at your forehead in disbelief, “Oh my god, this is ridiculous.”

“What, are you ashamed of me?” Jeongguk asks casually, walking back and sitting on the bed with a soft thud, his whole demeanor relaxed with a nonchalance that makes your left eye twitch.

You scoff, unwilling to grasp how this is even an actual thing happening to you, tossing the phone back at him, “A little bit, yeah. You think this is a fucking joke, huh? I’m now apparently dating the uni’s most popular fuckboy.”

The damned boy in front of you leans on his forearms, pouting just for show, “Hey, that’s mean. I’m no fuckboy.”

Bag thrown to the ground with a violence that it does not deserve, you start pacing back and forth in his room, letting out a borderline insane laugh, not knowing whether to scream or cry, “Yes, you are. You went through every single girl in this building.”

“Do you really think of me like that?”

The sudden sincerity that you think you spot in his tone makes you halt your steps, body turning to him as he sits straight again, his head tilting slightly.

You sigh, frustration mounting, and you throw your head back at the ceiling for any signal from the universe that this is indeed a joke, a bad, huge joke on you, “Jeongguk. Please.”

Silence fills the room next, but it doesn’t make it any easier to think nor does it quite register in your brain, mind racing with jumbled and chaotic thoughts, barely coming through as coherent words, getting intertwined with one another.

But the more you walk from one side of the room to the other, the more you’re almost able to untangle the mess, just enough to start processing what’s happening.

Then, a nuclear bomb wipes it all out, Jeongguk’s words the missile, his quiet tone the explosion, “I don’t want you to see nobody else.”

“What the fuck?”

The aftermath of the destruction is not only loud, ears ringing with a shrieking alarm going off, your figure stiff with shock, but you feel its heat burning your whole body in consuming flames that threaten to swallow you whole if you don’t let them take over, rise, flood every nerve until all you can feel is the rage boiling in your veins when you practically scream at him, ”What the hell does that even mean? You're being selfish!”

“Am I?” Jeongguk asks calm, calculated, gaze locked on yours as if daring you to challenge him further. His tone is maddeningly measured even as he pushes himself off the bed and closes the distance between you.

It’s like he’s planned this— attack after attack designed to destabilize you completely. Not only did he thrust you into the spotlight without warning, claiming you for the whole campus to see as if you’re worth nothing more than a stupid prank and a few laughs.

But now he talks with a grace that belies the chaos he’s stirred, as if his words are just another fact, something as simple as the weather, “I haven’t been seeing anybody since this summer. Since we started using no condom.”

Your pupils tremble with something far more complex than just anger, though you refuse to give it a name. He’s practically towering over you, his stance purposeful, making you feel small; as if the intensity of his gaze is not enough that it makes you falter, as if the humiliation he’s putting you through isn’t either. Head shaking, your voice does too, “That’s— not true. You’re a fucking liar. You— What about Haeun?

“Nothing even happened with her.”

The speed of his denial sets you off, an incredulous scoff breaking free as you roll your tongue against the inside of your cheek—a habit you’d picked up from witnessing his easy tempers, “Then why did you tell me you kissed?”

“Because—” Jeongguk hesitates, and the pause is so out of character that it almost gives you whiplash. The boy who always has something to say suddenly seems unsure. His hand flexes at his side, a nervous tick you hadn’t noticed before, and he exhales as if the words are fighting their way out of him, “‘Cause— I was jealous.”

“Jealous?” Your voice cracks on the word, a laugh bubbling out of you that’s sharp and fractured, borderline unhinged. It cuts through the room like broken glass, and his expression tightens, jaw clenching. But he doesn’t interrupt.

“Jealous,” you repeat, louder this time, your incredulous tone thick with rage. “You’re telling me you made up that bullshit because you were jealous?”

He doesn’t respond, and it pushes you closer to your limit, on the verge of exploding. You don’t know how you find it within you, but with a long exhale and a quick prayer up at the ceiling, you meet his gaze in an almost patronizing manner, “Jeongguk, we are not exclusive. I thought that was well implied. You don’t get to act like this. You don’t get to be jealous.”

Nodding along to your words, Jeongguk’s brows draw together, his expression somewhere between anxious and defensive. There’s something in his eyes, something close to fear, but fear of what, you can’t quite place.

When he speaks, his voice is softer than yours, as though he’s trying to keep it from breaking, “I know. We both agreed to that, yes. We’re both allowed to see other people.”

The words feel rehearsed, like he’s repeated them to himself a hundred times. But with the silence stretching, it’s clear he’s struggling to say more. His lips press together briefly, and his gaze flicks to yours, searching. It’s as though he’s waiting — no, hoping — you’ll interject, offer something to fill the space.

You don’t. You hold firm, tilting your head slightly, your confusion evident. Your wide, questioning eyes, so big, so honest, pull the truth from him in a way you don’t intend, and he exhales like it’s been forced out of him.

“But I don’t want you to.”

The sheer audacity of his words hits you like a slap, the kind that stings more because of its unexpectedness. You snort, although there’s nothing particularly amusing about your heart cracking at the middle, but you manage to keep it from resounding in your words, "That’s so fucking mean. Do you even hear yourself? You get to fuck whoever you want, and I’m kept hostage? And now—now everybody thinks we’re dating!"

"That’s good," he says, simple, unflinching.

You blink, disbelief coursing through you as your lips part in a strangled gasp. "What?" The word is half a whisper, half a shout, and it escapes before you can temper it, "You’re so selfish. I fucking hate you.”

The emotion is foreign from what you’re used to showing him, softness in quiet ways, affection in silent gestures. But now, it’s all loud rage, the opposite of love spilling out of you in volatile waves. Your hands curl into fists at your sides, itching for release, something, anything to make him feel the way you’re being forced to feel, to cut through the weight of his seemingly impassive expression showing only the barest twitch in his brows, a crack too small to satisfy your anger.

It isn’t enough. You need more.

Your palms find his chest, shoving him with the force of every burning feeling inside you. “You’re stupid,” you spit, watching him take the push without exactly budging, like he’s made of stone. It only stokes your frustration further, your hands pushing again, harder this time. “And dumb.”

Jeongguk doesn’t step back, doesn’t fight you. He stands there, his chest steady, absorbing your hits without a word. His lack of resistance only makes the storm inside you rage harder, and the tears you’ve been holding back threaten to spill over.

You scramble for more, anything to turn the reality of what you truly feel into the illusion of anger, “And— and— Why the fuck are you silent! Say something!” You aim another punch at his chest, but it’s impossibly weaker, the exhaustion showing in your useless attempts at getting at him.

You sniff, and you know you lost against his indifference, your voice wavering feeling like a confession you didn’t mean to make. “Asshole. You’re being so mean. You’re making me cry.”

That’s what finally breaks him. Only the tears slipping rapidly from your eyes get his resolve to crumble. His hands are on you instantly, gripping your shoulders gently but firmly, refusing to let you squirm away. You slap at them weakly, but his touch is steady, his fingers brushing strands of hair from your face, cupping your chin to tilt it up toward him.

“Toots, no. Hey, hey,” he whispers, his tone soft in a way that disarms you completely. His thumb swipes at a stray tear, but your face turns away, evading him like it’s your only line of defense. He doesn’t back down, “Stop crying. Hey, look at me. Will you?”

“Stop calling me that!” You finally snap, jerking your face away again. The tears are spilling faster now, no matter how much you want to fight them, no matter how much you want to cling to the fury. “I hate you. You’re fucking all the girls in this college, and I’m only fucking you, because— because—”

“God,” Jeongguk groans, exasperation dripping from his tone. You’re about to hurl another half-formed insult or maybe even take a swing at him again, aiming low, but his next words stop you cold.

“Do I have to spell it out for you?” His tone is quieter now, more deliberate, the vulnerability in it cutting sharper than anything else he’s said. “I like you. I broke the rule.”

You’re sure your heart will fail you today. It misses at least four beats, and it steals the oxygen from your lungs, along with the color from your face.

You stammer, eyes widening as your pulse picks up again and pounds in your ears. “Don’t—don’t say shit like that. I swear to God, I’ll actually fuck you up. Stop—lying to me.”

“What the fuck, ___? I’m not lying to you,” Jeongguk’s voice attempts to be steady but it can’t hide the desperation, as if he’s holding on by a thread. “Why would I?”

The question is simple.

Why would Jeongguk lie to you? Does he have a reason to fake this?

The world seems to tilt, the ground beneath you shifting in some irreparable way.

You should feel scared. You should feel repulsed at the thought of commitment, the weight of his words pressing against you like a cage. But you don’t.

Instead, your eyes dart between his, searching for cracks in his sincerity, like a frantic spectator watching a tennis match, every glance like a volley in the game of something bigger than either of you. The matchpoint sends a thrill through your chest, something overwhelming and terrifying but not unwelcome.

Jeongguk watches you closely, feeling the weight of the silence between you stretch on longer than he can handle. He knows he’s the one that should break it, knows the truth he’s holding inside has to be spoken now.

It’s now or never. He can’t keep pretending—this isn’t just some casual thing to him, and he’s not ready to let it slip away without a fight. You’ve become everything he didn’t know he needed, and yet here he is, paralyzed by the fear of rejection, of being vulnerable, of watching the one thing he wants most slip right through his fingers.

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? If he doesn’t speak up now, he’ll lose everything. His fear has no place in this moment anymore.

It’s a long exhale before his voice drops in soft honey, shaking with the weight of the truth, “Look. I know it’s hard to trust me. You’ve seen me fuck up multiple times over this stuff. But I want to stop this cycle. I want to allow myself something good,” his eyes search for any signal that he should stop talking, but in yours he finds every reason for him not to, “And you’re everything good that life will ever concede me. I can't… I can't let you go. I can't lose you.”

"Jeongguk…" His name slips from your lips like a prayer you've been too afraid to speak aloud until now. But you see it— he’s ready to find every solution, even if it means confronting the fear that has held him back for so long.

“I like you so much it’s killing me,” he admits, voice low and raw, every syllable cracking with vulnerability.

It’s a slow realization, like a tide that comes in quietly, softly. You’ve felt its caress for so long, and now that it embraces you wholly, you feel your heart expand, filling with the same warmth, the same longing.

The words you wish you could say are caught in your throat. You look up at him, eyes wide, trying to comprehend, to take in what he’s offering. You’re almost afraid to ask, as if the answer will shatter something you’ve worked so hard to protect, “You like me?”

“I lose my fucking mind when it comes to you.” His confession is a rush of honesty that sweeps through you, his eyes not leaving yours, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he blinks.

The world feels like it’s slowing down. There’s so much you’ve been holding back, but you don’t know how to make the words fit, how to make them sound right.

Jeongguk takes a small step back, his voice quieter but still heavy with emotion. “It’s okay if you wanna end it here,” he murmurs, his words barely above a whisper, like he’s bracing for the worst. “At least it wasn’t because you got with some other stupid guy.”

You shake your head, the thought of losing him too painful to bear. “Stop—” You let out a frustrated sigh, hands curling into fists at your sides. “God, you’re so dumb. This could have been so much easier if you’d told me sooner.”

He looks at you, confusion flickering across his face. “What do you mean?”

You feel your chest tighten, the truth slipping out before you can stop it. “I like you too,” you admit, the words finally leaving your lips hastly, like they were just waiting for the right moment. “I agreed to the date because I thought you were still… fucking around.”

His face softens, and there’s a flash of relief in his eyes. “I wasn’t. Haven’t been in so long.”

“...No Haeun?”

“Hell no. I don’t want no kiss if it isn’t from you.”

You laugh, a low sound that fills the air between you. “Cheesy fucker,” you tease, but there’s a warmth in your chest now, a feeling you can’t ignore. “Well, if you want to know, I wasn’t seeing anybody either. Namjoon asked me out randomly, but I haven’t been with anyone else since… this started.”

His eyes widen slightly, and for a moment, everything is quiet. He looks at you like he’s just heard something he never expected to hear. “Oh,” he says softly.

“Yeah.”

Jeongguk steps closer to you, his hands reaching for you, voice thick, “I’m so sorry, baby. I never meant to make you cry. It’s breaking my heart.” His thumb brushes across your cheek, gently wiping away the remnants of the tears you hadn’t even realized had fallen. “I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head, your heart swelling with both regret and tenderness. “It’s okay,” you say softly. “I’m sorry for yelling all that stuff at you. I don’t hate you. I…”

Before you can finish, his lips crash against yours, and all the confusion, all the fears, prove themselves to be worth this moment.

They dissolve into something real, the kiss trying to make up for lost time, for all the things left unsaid.

When you pull away, your foreheads resting together, Jeongguk’s voice is quiet but determined. “Come here, baby. You’re mine.”

“Prove it.”

[vi-tamine]

Heyyyyy!!!

If you are up for it, I'd love to see you write a Silco x Reader Story🙏🏻

Reader was like an older Sibling to Powder, Vi, Mylo and Clagger, making sure the kids were always okay. So that day, when almost everyone died and Silco took in Powder/Jinx, Reader went with them to keep an eye on Jinx. They turn more into a Parental Figure over time for her. Reader and Silco hated each other at first but tried to remain civil for Jinx. Over time feelings developed and both are in denial. So basically Enemies to Lovers.

Also Reader takes care of like the Bar, since they have already worked there when Vander was still alive. [Either behind the counter as a Bartender or as like Security]

Idc if its Fluffy or Angsty or smutty or smth!

I just need more Silco x Reader🙏🏻😭

at home (silco x reader)

words: 1517

genre(s): fluff, angst (i think..)

warnings: none

n/a: im sooo happy!!! thank u so much for requesting me!! this is my first request and i'm kinda nervous about it! i hope you like it and enjoy it a little!! i did my best!! want to remember that english isn't my first language, so im sorry if there are spelling or grammar mistakes, but this also helps me to improve :]

You were twenty years old when it all happened. When Mylo and Claggor died and Vi ran away after all the tragedy trying to rescue Vander from Silco's hands. You were the oldest of the three sisters, always under your care, even though you allowed them some freedom for their “missions” you always kept an eye on your sisters, in case it was necessary to get them out of some trouble. 

That day, you went to help your brothers get Vander back, making Powder promise not to move from the basement. When the whole mess happened, you were barely aware of whatever was going on. One of your arms had been trapped under the rubble and you heard Powder's distant cries for Vi to come back for her. As best you could, you pulled yourself together, pushed away the debris over your arm and made your way to find the youngest of your sisters, the one that sounded closest. The crying seemed to be weaker, and when you looked up Silco had his arms around her as she hugged him, right next to Vander's lifeless body. You approached cautiously, brow furrowed at the whole unfamiliar situation. 

“Stay away from her” you addressed Silco with a firm voice and furrowed brows. He did so without complaint, looking at you, keeping his composure and probably waiting for a move on your part that never came.  Powder turned to look at you, her blue eyes brimming with tears. She hugged your legs, and before you knew it, you were both leaving with Silco and his people. 

Seven years later you decided to take Vander's place in “The Last Drop”. Silco “signed it over” to you while he took one of the rooms to be his office. You were a little grateful that he would let you carry on the legacy of the one he once considered his brother. 

You poured one last drink before Jinx sat down on one of the stools and rolled your eyes as you watched her turn in on herself. “Get your feet off the stool if you're going to be sitting here” you scolded her as you cleaned one of the glasses and poured her the juice she always asked for. “Thank you~” she thanked taking a sip from the straw. “I've been working on one of those grenades I showed you, and even though it explodes poorly, it's getting more and more powerful!” she explained somewhat excitedly as she looked at you with a slight smile. During all these years your sister had grown more than you would have liked. Sometimes nostalgia hit you, and all you could think about was how much older she had gotten and how rebellious and uncontrollable she had become.

 Mylo and Claggor's death and Vi's abandonment left some aftereffects on your sister. Jinx was the name she had decided to adopt after Vi called her that name before abandoning her to her fate without even knowing if you were alive. Together with Silco you had raised her, and although you always tried to take her on a healthy and untroubled path, she ended up paying more attention to Silco than to you. 

During all these years your vision of Silco was changing, and all the resentment and anger you had towards him, had been loosening when you saw the love and effort he put in wanting to take care of your sister. Your attitude towards him became more passive, and his attitude towards you became sweeter and more protective. You both had your sister, Jinx, as your priority. 

“Be careful with those gadgets or someday your finger will explode.” you joked with your sister as you leaned your elbows on the bar to look at her. “I do know how to build inventions, sis, not like you” she joked with you before getting a tap on her shoulder from you. You rolled your eyes letting out a light chuckle. “By the way, Silco wants to see you” he spoke as he rubbed his shoulder with a pout. You frowned and sighed. “You take care of the drinks for a while then” you stepped out from behind the bar, you watched out of the corner of your eye as Jinx hopped over the bar to tend to the customers and scolded her for it before walking up to Silco's office.

You felt your heart beating stronger and stronger as you got closer to Silco's office. Since a few days ago your vision of the man who had given (somehow) shelter to you and your sister, apart from starting to respect him, perhaps your feelings towards him had taken a different direction, a more romantic one. Every night you told yourself that it was wrong, if you thought about it, it was against your morals and principles to like Silco, so you tried to hold back that feeling as much as you could. 

You knocked on the door, and after hearing a low “Come in”, you entered the room, allowing you to see Silco in his chair as usual and Sevika next to him. They both looked at you, and with a slight gesture, Silco had Sevika leave the room, closing the door behind her. You sat down in the chair in front of the table, sighing and making yourself comfortable as you noticed how her gaze was fixed on you. 

“What is it this time, what has Jinx done to what-” you couldn't finish formulating the sentence Silco cut you off. “Your sister is out of jail” your back and your whole body started to bristle. “With the help of a Piltover enforcer.” You discovered that Vi had been arrested and sent to Stillwater. Seven years later she seemed to have gotten out. A confused feeling invaded your body. You were happy, your sister had been released. And at the same time you were filled with rage, she had abandoned you and your sister. Then came the feeling of guilt, you were the oldest, much older than them, and you had let your sister be arrested, you had not fought for her. You swallowed and immediately got up from the couch. “Don't let Jinx know. Not yet, at least.” you left the room without even looking or listening to what Silco would have to tell you.

. . . . . . 

Later that night, having just closed the bar and with only the music to keep you company, you finished putting the last chairs back on the tables and mopping the floor. Before you even went to sleep you decided to pour yourself a shot of whiskey. You sat on the freshly cleaned bar and, with your mother's favorite song playing in the background, you thought about everything. Your parents, your sisters, brothers, Vander, Silco, everything. The alcohol scratched your throat as you thought about how you were going to confront Vi at some point, what you would say to her, how she would be, how she would react to seeing who you were with. Maybe she would understand you if she realized you were doing it all for Jinx. Maybe she would martyr you if she knew about your feelings for Silco. 

“May I have some?” a voice from behind you shuddered. Turning slightly to grab a glass, you saw Silco planted behind you. You nodded wordlessly, pouring for him as well and watching as he took a long sip. He looked back at you. “Why the long face?” he asked. You laughed wryly. “As if you didn't know” you replied clicking your tongue. You didn't want to talk down to him, but your feelings at that moment were what they were. He seemed to understand, he didn't add a word.

 He set the glass down on the bar and one of your hands rested on your shoulder, lightly trailing down your arm. “She's going to understand.” he simply said. You shook your head, also dropping the glass and looking sideways at him. “She's not going to understand. She can't. I don't blame her. I'm a horrible sister.” you sighed. You felt like your eyes were going to release tears at any moment. You noticed Silco's rough hand touch yours, embrace yours with his fingers and with his thumb caress the back of your hand. You let yourself be touched. “We should have left, Silco. We don't belong here. It's not our place. I should have taken Pow-” you couldn't finish your sentence Silco had crashed his lips to yours. You couldn't even react when he broke away. You looked at him still dumbfounded. 

“If she doesn't understand, we're going to make her understand. But don't you ever, ever, ever say again that you don't belong here. You do. You belong by my side,” and when he finished speaking you couldn't help but kiss his lips back. Your heart had just exploded like a bomb, and Silco had detonated it. There were probably going to be repercussions, surely none of this was going to go well, but for the first time, when you were dancing in his arms, you felt at home again.

[beomiracles]

hiii! i’ve never requested before but as i’m stalking *tehe* your account- OMG U WRITE SO GOOD BSFR

can i request something like a cosplayer!gf x soobin? yk he’s such a weeb & a nerd, i js know he would love a cosplayer gf (not only ‘cause i do cosplay lmao). Maybe some smut-ish?

TYSMMM, i hope u take the request babes <33

⌞ 𝐃𝐔𝐌𝐁 𝐁𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐘 ⌝

DREAM RECALL Soobin knows that he should feel ashamed, but he can't help it. He wants nothing but to see his girlfriend completely ruined before him.

wc -> 2.8k

pairings soobin x cosplayer!gf warnings perv!soobin, masturbation (m), vaginal fingering, overstimulation (f), dacryphilia, unprotected sex + creampie, teetering on the edge of dub-con at some points, soobin calls reader "bunny", reader wears bunny ears !

#serene adds ✎ hii omg tysm eek that makes me super happy to hear >.< I tried my best, I'm not a cosplayer myself so I might've gotten some things wrong, but I think it's such a cool thing to be able to do ! this might not be exactly what you wanted, I think I got a little carried away, I hope it's still an enjoyable read nonetheless :3

It was really no secret that Soobin liked your cosplays. How he would so often brag about his girlfriend who could transform into just about anyone. Not to mention the several times he watched you get ready with big fascinated eyes as he asked you tons of questions, or went out of his way to buy you the things you needed. So no, it wasn’t exactly a secret that he liked it. Well, maybe a little, maybe he hadn’t told you just how much he really enjoyed it. 

Some of them were fine, the costumes that made him giggle, the ones that were unique and funky. But some made his breath catch in his throat as he shoved a pillow over his lap. The flimsy short dresses, the tight tops, the jewelry that dangled from your neck. Even the fluffy bunny ears you once put on made him rethink his morals. — He doesn’t know how to approach it, if he should say something, or just keep quiet. Would you be disgusted with him or would you be just as turned on? He didn’t know but the thought was slowly eating him away. 

You didn’t exactly make things easier. Always sauntering about in your revealing costumes, making his dick strain uncomfortably in his briefs as he tears his gaze away. He knows that you love what you do, catching you smiling and laughing as you edit your videos, always excited to talk about your next costume. Soobin doesn’t want to ruin something you hold so dearly just because of his perverted mind. Yet he can’t help but replay the scene in his head, over and over until his hand moves down his pants on its own. 

Short fluffy skirt bunched up over your stomach, your tits bouncing in rhythm with each harsh thrust of his as your bottom lip quivers, big bunny ears flopping down the sides of your face as your dainty nails claw at his arms. — Fuck, Soobin knows it’s bad. So why can’t he stop?    

Things get no better when you call out for him that evening, your squeaky voice echoing through the walls of your apartment. He gets up from the couch, dragging his feet over to your shared bedroom, pushing the slightly ajar door open before his eyes almost shot out of their sockets. — “Can you help me zip this up?” You whine as you struggle with the zipper of your short dress. The lacey material was just the kind that immediately got his mind reeling and Soobin fumbled for words before eventually nodding, awkwardly stumbling inside the room. 

His big hands are clumsy on your back as he twists at the locking mechanisms of your garment, his brows deeply furrowed as he tries to get it right. “M-Maybe it’s broken”, you huff, making a small grimace as he tugs at the costume. Soobin only shakes his head, “no it’ll work”, he mutters, intent on seeing you in the skimpy piece of clothing. And at last he does get it, heaving a small sigh he takes a step back as you admire yourself in the mirror. 

“Thank you, babe!” You chirp, rushing to give his cheek a small peck before setting up your phone. “Do you wanna watch?” — Your innocent question sends blood straight to his groin and he has to blink twice before comprehending your words. “I…sure”, he nods, moving to sit by the edge of the bed, securely out of view from your camera. 

You had explained multiple times how you filmed your content, lip syncing to different songs and sometimes having full on dialogues. But Soobin finds himself unable to focus on anything besides how your tits moved as you redid take after take, huffing when you got something wrong as you pulled at the colorful wig on your head. 

His eyes are glued to the way the dress slides up your thighs, frowning as your hand wraps around the fabric to pull it down again. He bites the inside of his cheek, shifting uncomfortably on the plush mattress as he watches you bend forward to mess with the settings on your phone, your soft tits almost spilling out of the tight costume. — He knows that he’s done for if you turn around right now, and he swallows, fingers curling around the blanket beneath him. 

He should leave, actually he should probably have left right away, but his greedy mind just couldn’t say no. It takes everything in him to tear his gaze from you, quickly removing himself from the bed as he heads for the door, though your voice makes him freeze in his tracks. “Where are you going, Binnie?” He can practically hear the pout on your lips and he has to bite back a small groan. “Just the bathroom”, he mumbles, hoping that you won’t catch on to how strained his voice had become. 

Your obliviousness is endearing as you give a small “okay”, and the immense wave of guilt washing over him is almost unbearable. Yet his demanding arousal wins him over and as soon as the bathroom door shuts behind him does his hand slip past the hem of his sweats. — Letting his head fall back against the cool tiles, Soobin exhales as his fingers wrap around his aching cock, groaning as he tugs on it. No matter how hard he tries not to, the image of you in the room down the hall clouds his vision. 

It wasn’t like it was unwarranted, right? You were his girlfriend, so why did he feel so shameful over jacking off to the silly little costumes you wore? But the thought of confronting what he thought to be a bizarre kink, felt almost worse than jerking it off in secret. You’d probably be disgusted with him, Soobin thinks so at least. And that’s the last thing he wants. 

He takes a cold shower after that, trying his hardest to scrub away the shame and the guilt. It never worked. He feels just as hot when he steps out again, almost like he was running a fever, an incurable one. — You ask him about his sudden disappearance at dinner but he merely brushes it off. And you’re so naive, believing every single word passing his lying lips. 

Not even when he’s balls deep inside of you that night, thick cock ramming into your throbbing cunt, can he get the thoughts out of his head. His mind works overtime as it conjures image after image of you all dressed up for him, your makeup smudged by the tears that streamed down your face as he brings you to orgasm after orgasm. — Only snapping out of his haze when your whiny voice pierces the air, “B-Binnie, s’too much!” — “Fuck, sorry Bunny”, the petname slips out without him thinking twice and it isn’t until he catches your small frown that he realizes his mistake. 

“You’ve never called me that before..” You sound hesitant and Soobin stills inside of you. “Ah.. No I suppose I haven’t”, he huffs, clearing his throat rather awkwardly, “if you don’t like it I-” — “No, I do.” He blinks, unmoving as he swallows, did he hear that right? The tiny confirmation sends him spiraling and he reconnects your lips in a kiss, thinking, hoping, that maybe he’d be able to get just a step closer to what his twisted mind desired. 

⸝⸝

Sometimes it was almost like the universe liked to pull pranks on Soobin. Or maybe it was karma? It had to be one of the two, because he nearly drops his phone as you come skipping down the hallway, dressed in nothing but a fluffy skirt and a cute sparkly top. — You immediately begin rambling on about the character you’re portraying as you twirl before him, modeling the look. But Soobin isn’t listening, in fact he’s barely heard a word you’ve said, even as his gaze trains on your glossy lips. You always did your makeup nice, but today you had gone all out, pink cheeks matching the shadow around your eyes, and he could’ve sworn you used something akin to glitter on the tip of your nose. 

“Do you like it?” You wonder, twisting the flimsy skirt between your fingers as you await his response. Soobin’s eyes find yours, wide and curious meeting his lustful and near pleading ones. There’s really only one thing he can say. — “You should put the bunny ears on.” 

You frown, the confusion is evident on your pretty face as your pink lips part. “The bunny ears? But they don’t even have anything to do with this costume, silly!” — “I know.” He shrugs, feigning nonchalance but the way desire swirls behind his gaze surely gives him away. You bite the inside of your cheek, appearing almost conflicted as you rock back and forth on the sole of your feet. “Binnie, don’t you think–” 

“I think”, he interrupts, shifting against the sofa before he continues, “that you should put them on and go lay down on our bed.” — Your jaw slacks as your fingers, previously tangled up in your skirt, drops to your sides, sure you were used to Soobin being commanding but this was something completely new. Then your eyes drift to the bulge in his pants, wondering how it could’ve passed your notice before, and you nod, slowly turning on your heel as you head for the bedroom. 

Soobin lets his head fall back against the couch with a soft groan. Running a hand through his hair, he slowly considers what he was about to go through with. But not before long does he get up to head after you. — The door is ajar, letting him catch a glimpse of the bed before he pushes it open. He finds you perched on the mattress, knees tucked under you as you fiddle with the fluffy ears on your head. When you see him entering you immediately make a move to lie down, visibly gulping as he reaches the bed in three long strides. 

This was far from anything the two of you had done before. You supposed that some might even call your sex life a bit vanilla. While it wasn’t something you had given much thought, Soobin most definitely seemed to have as he looms over you. — You looked so pretty, so perfectly put together, and he wanted nothing more than to see you ruined. 

His large hand is on your cheek, gently caressing the pink hues as he sends you a loving look. “Gorgeous bunny”, he murmurs, pulling your plump bottom lip down, your sticky gloss smearing all over his thumb as he pushes it inside your mouth. He’s pleasantly surprised when you eagerly swirl your tongue around it, coating his finger in your saliva. You keep your eyes on him the whole time, the small eye contact makes his cock practically jump in his pants and he retracts his thumb with a grunt. 

Eagerly he hikes the fluffy skirt up above your stomach. The cotton panties you wore underneath were nothing special, you hadn’t exactly planned for things to take such an intimate turn but Soobin’s breath still catches in his throat as his fingers trace the lining. — “So soft”, he exhales, hand dipping inside the thin garment as his long fingers slide between your folds, making you suck in a sharp breath as your teeth latch onto your painted lip. 

Driven by the fantasies conjured in his far too imaginative mind, it’s almost as if he’s taken on a completely different persona. The uncharacteristic look in his eyes makes you throb against him, his saliva coated thumb skimming over your clit, has you crying out as he quickly pushes a finger inside of your clenching hole. — He wants to ease you into it, take it slow, like he usually did, but there’s something urging him on today. Desperate to see you ruined by his hand, Soobin quickly adds a second finger, not slowing down as he hears you wail, cute nails practically ripping the sheets apart as your thighs twitch. 

His free hand tugs your panties down, leaving them by your knees as he grows impatient, his attention returning to your slick core; watching intently as your arousal trails down the back of his hand. Soobin was a gentle lover, he loved taking his time as he watches your face morph into pleasurable expressions, he loved hearing your small gasps and moans as he slides himself inside of you before gently picking up his pace. But none of that lingers today.  

Neither the shame nor bashfulness exists within him any longer. He can’t bring himself to care when you look so pretty beneath him, whimpering as you orgasm around his fingers, his name falling from your lips like it was second nature. — “N-No s’too much!” You whine as his fingers continue to spread your puffy folds, but Soobin’s too far gone already. “S’okay bunny, I’m gonna make you feel so good”, he murmurs, planting a tender kiss to your forehead and you preen under him. 

Sweat has dribbled down your face, causing your makeup to crease but Soobin only groans at the sight, his large hand feverishly working to free his throbbing cock from the confinement of his pants. — Your quiet cry when his tip meets your clit makes his chest swell as he lets himself become coated in the remnants of your previous high. “Binnie”, the nickname makes him twitch as his gaze flickers up to meet yours. Your bottom lip wobbles, short pants emitting from deep within your throat and your eyes are wide. Fuck you look gorgeous.

Soobin thinks he might come the second he slips past your wet folds, your overstimulated cunt sucking him in like never before and you whimper at the stretch of his thick cock. He starts out slow, like he usually did, though his restraints quickly snap as his pace becomes near unbearable. His eyes focus on the way your tits move with each thrust, their rhythmical bounce as they strain against the sparkly top makes him groan as he increases his force. — He traps one of your floppy bunny ears between his fingers, feeling the soft material against his open palm before he tugs on it, making you whine as your back arches off the mattress. 

“Prettiest little bunny I’ve ever seen”, he grunts, his hips slamming against yours with such force that you let out a small hiccup. Your hands move to his shoulders, pretty nails digging into the flesh there as you meekly nod, jaw slacking as you blink up at him. — His thumb is on your lips again, except this time he’s smearing your pink gloss across your cheek and chin, wanting you to look nothing but ravaged when he’s done with you. 

He can tell that you’re having a hard time keeping up, the tears welling in your eyes a clear indicator. “S-Slow down, Binnie!” You sniffle, your grip on his upper arms becoming near deadly. And any other day he would’ve complied in a heartbeat, scooping you into his arms as he coddled you, but he needs to see you ruined, he can’t stop now. — The first droplet to fall from your eyes makes him let out a strangled noise as his cock twitches deep inside of you. The ones that follow manage to smear your perfect makeup, leaving streaks on your pink tinted cheeks. 

Your quiet sobs are interrupted by breathy moans as his index and middle finger swirls around your throbbing clit. “Hnng, I’m g-gonna.. p-please let me..” Your incoherent pleas only make his mind spin, adding to the sensation of having you completely wrecked before him. His large palm against your tear stained cheek is near trembling as he leans in to press a chaste kiss to your lips. “S’okay bunny, I’ve got you.” He presses reassuring pecks to your face, covering you in his love as he feels you clench around him, pulling a sharp hiss between his gritted teeth as you finish around his cock. 

Once the wave of intense pleasure subsides you’re left a whimpering mess as Soobin abuses your spent cunt, using it however he pleases as he thrusts into you without showing any signs of slowing down. — You looked so perfect like this, your once pretty costume completely disheveled all thanks to him. Your mind is nothing but a hazy fog as you gaze up at him, letting him have his way with you because you’re nothing but a dumb bunny, his dumb bunny. 

He lets his head fall to the crook of your neck as his hips stutter, making sure to fill your pretty little cunt with as much of his seed as possible, preserving it by slowly fucking his soft cock into you despite your wails. — “You’re okay”, he murmurs, pressing tender kisses to your sweat covered neck as he slumps against your chest. “So perfect for me”, he sighs as he leans up to catch a glimpse of your face. He finds a small grin playing on your lips, making his heart flutter almost agonizingly as he props himself up to place a kiss to that very smile.

Such a perfectly dumb bunny, he thinks.  

taglist ✎... @theresawtf @jjklvr9 @beomies-world @hyukaaa @ninoshome1 @gardnhee @babymochibeargyu @lunathewritingcat @duckywuckypookiepie @naoristerling @oddracha @soohashits @junimoa03 @sendhelpiloveyeonjun @beomtasticc @gudboibeomgyu @flowzel @hwanghyunjinismybae @inkigayocamman @sthwaaberry @izzyy-stuff @silentisle @itaehynz @blossommi @sunghxxnie @unknowzzn

(if your tag is not working please check your settings to make sure that your blog is not hidden!)

→ want to get notified whenever a new dream is published? join my TAGLIST ᰔ © all rights reserved ─ @beomiracles 2024

[g0dlyunsub]

hii!! loved what u wrote for my orher request - i have another one - could you write abt the reader doing his slicked back hair that he has at the end of season 1? she wanted to play around w the bob-ish hair and use gel, which he was reluctant to at first but he has a soft spot for her so let’s her do the prince charming hair

adore you.

spencer doesn’t know if he wants you to style his hair, but you know the perfect way to convince him.

pairing :: spencer x fem!reader

warnings :: established relationship, fluff

word count :: 1k

author's note :: thank you for being so patient with this request <3 enjoy this fluffy little piece before i burrow myself away in more angst :0

accompanying song :: when you wash your hair by matt maltese

“wake up, i miss you.”

you rub your eyes, but they only sink further back into your head as spencer’s hushed croons breeze into your ears.

his i miss you, along with the breathy squeak he emits as he leans over your body, has you ready to leap into his arms in an instant, but you don’t show it.

instead, you groan in protest, turning to the side and grasping onto the blankets a little tighter. 

because absolutely nothing can compare to the feeling of lying in the soft threads of spencer’s bed — especially when the curtains are still closed and are preventing the warm flush of early morning from pouring into your eyes.

but spencer seems to see right through you, and you hear the thuds of his footsteps quiet down as he makes his way to the other side of the room. with the sounds of curtain fabric whipping against air, the light that once striped your face through the cracks swallows you whole.

“nooo, spencer,” you roll over once again, squinting as the brightness penetrates your eyelids. “close the curtains, pleeease.”

the way you mewl your words so softly makes spencer stop in his tracks, because it’s too pretty to ignore — one might even say piteous.

“we’re both going to be late for work,” he hums amusedly, and kneels by your side of the bed. his broad hands caress your cheek and send a pleasurable chain of chemical reactions to your brain, lulling you even closer to sleep.

it’s like he’s doing it purposely, trying to draw you back into slumber. 

“so what if we’re late?” you say with a slight rasp, slowly opening both of your eyes to look sleepily into his lidded gaze. you almost whimper when he traces the sides of your face and rearranges your disarrayed strands of hair with his graceful fingers.

“hm. don’t you have a presentation to give today?” he chuckles, and the way his voice rises and falls rhythmically feels too hypnotizing. if he keeps this up, you’re seriously going to fall asleep.

“screw the presentation. i want to stay here. i need,” you lick your dry lips and watch as spencer sucks in a breath, “some more sleep.”

“well,” he chuckles softly in thought, “as much as i’d like to join you, i’ve just been called in for a case.”

“can’t you call in sick?”

“do you really want me to?”

“yes.” 

a brief flicker of amusement dances in spencer’s eyes. 

you sigh. “well… no. they need you.”

“more than you need me?”

you roll your eyes. “no… oh come on, spence. you’re making me look like the bad guy here.”

“sorry,” he says with an apologetic smile, and continues to rake his fingers through your hair. 

you can only stare blankly at the ceiling as he continues to brush your hair with his slow fingers, and as he gingerly untangles some of the strands along the way. you can smell the lingering scent of his shampoo, and the pleasant smell blossoms in the air as he lightly fluffs your hair.

you shift your gaze to look at him, admiring the way his hair, still damp from his morning shower, falls delicately over his eyes. suddenly, you get an idea.

“can i style your hair today?”

spencer looks mildly taken aback by your request, and his fingers halt in the soft pile of your hair.

“you want to, um-”

“please?” you look at him pleadingly, and grin as his contemplative gaze softens into a look of surrender.

“will that get you out of bed?”

you giggle. “it’s the only way.”

“fine.”

you practically leap out of the bed. swinging your arms around his neck and planting a kiss near his collarbone, you grab his the hand and lead him to the bathroom.

spencer laughs, unable to protest because of how you’re literally shining with excitement rummaging through the shelves to retrieve the case of hair gel. so he kneels on the bathroom floor and leans his head back ever so slightly, then looks up to meet your shimmering gaze.

“go ahead.” 

with his silent approval, your fingers linger excitedly around his face. unable to shake the feeling, you dip your head to kiss him on the cheek. instinctively, spencer closes his eyes.

at first, you just comb through his hair with your fingers, feeling how his soft, wispy strands flow around your skin. 

then, you dribble a small amount of gel on your palm and rub it so that it spreads across your entire hand. slowly, you run your fingers through his hair again, starting from the top and moving towards the back in one fluid motion. as you comb through the mop of his hair, you tuck the hardening strands behind his ears.

you look down to see that your boyfriend’s eyes are still closed, and smile.  

as if he can feel the radiance of your gentle expression, spencer slowly opens one eye and then the other, offering a beautiful smile of his own when his steady stare meet yours.

“are we done?” his smooth lips frame themselves to whisper the words softly, and the pleasant sound rubs against your ears.

“unfortunately, yes.” 

you cap the lid of the container and step back so your boyfriend can stand, and he uses your arm to help lift himself. 

inspecting the finished arrangement, spencer hums contently. “this looks great, thank you.”

he then turns to face you, and loops his outstretched arms around your waist. 

your mouth spreads into a wide smile as his lips sink against yours, and your feeble echoes of you're welcome vibrate in your muffled mouth.

pulling away at last, spencer takes both of your hands and moves you towards the sink, then turns on the tap so the water runs over both his and your hands. 

his fingers move between the crevices of yours as he lathers the soap over your skin and scrubs at the leftover grease. 

after rinsing your hands under the water, he proceeds to pat your hands dry with a towel. keeping the fabric in between his and your hands, he leans in and plants another kiss -- this time, to your neck. 

but then, without warning, your stomach lets out a low grumble.

spencer flicks his eyes upwards.

you pull back with an embarrassed smile, fully expecting spencer to react by stifling a chuckle. you hunch your shoulders and bite your bottom lip in anticipation of a teasing remark.

instead, he looks at you with an expression full of adoration. 

“how about we grab some breakfast?”

[spencerreidenjoyer]

smut where spencer gets the boyband haircut and reader gets VERY excited by it? love your work!! ❤️❤️

a change of pace | spencer reid x reader

wc: 765, rating: explicit/18+

tags/warnings: mention of spencer getting shot in the leg, vague descriptions of cunnilingus and vaginal sex, making out

a/n: thank you anon for requesting this!! u r too sweet. i am sorry for not writing too too much smut but i thought this idea was cute and couldn't help but write something quickly for it! please send me more requests as i would love to write more short and sweet ficlets like this!!

“Oh my God,” you say, when Spencer walks through the door.

He reaches for his hair, running his hand through it. “Is it that bad?”

“What? No, it’s not bad at all,” you stand up, meeting Spencer halfway as he walks over to you. You look up at him, running your own hand through his hair. It’s soft and fluffy after returning from the hairdresser, but inches shorter than it had been when he’d left home.

You liked his long hair, enjoyed combing your fingers through it while he laid his head in your lap, or in other less… innocent scenarios. He hadn't bothered to cut it after he’d gotten shot in the leg, a little too preoccupied with recovery to worry about the length of his hair. Lately, Spencer had been whining about his hair getting in the way when he was at work, or even making at-home tasks troublesome.

When you suggested he get a haircut, he was even worried as he asked, “But you like my hair long, no?” – as if your preference over the length of his hair would override his comfort. You’d booked him an appointment at the hairdresser instead, and Spencer had kissed you so sweetly it made you feel like your teeth would rot.

“What are you thinking about?” Spencer asks, quickly snapping you back to reality. You’re still mindlessly running your fingers through his hair, and Spencer had fully let you, without stopping you, for what must have been minutes.

“Sorry,” you say quickly, stepping back, but Spencer’s hands are on your waist, and he doesn’t let you get away that easily. He gives you a look, and you can’t help but say, “Was thinking about your long hair.”

“You miss it? I know I shouldn’t have gotten it cut, darling–” Spencer starts, but you stop him.

“No! No, I love this look on you,” you state firmly. “It makes you look extra boyish. Handsome.”

“I wasn’t handsome before?” Spencer teases you with a lilt in his voice. “Also, I don’t know if I should take boyish as a compliment here.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Spence,” you say, rolling your eyes. “What I was saying is, I might need some time to get used to this haircut.”

You’re completely lying. This haircut is so attractive on him, emphasising his sharp features, making it painfully obvious just how handsome he is. He looks like a different man, so chic and suave with the shorter haircut, but it’s still your Spencer, and that makes you feel a little crazy. You want to jump his bones.

Spencer tilts his head curiously. “How so?”

“You know, your long hair was really convenient for when we… y’know,” you hum, your hands coming around to cup his face. You think your voice sounds a little more… sultry.

Spencer cocks his brow. “I think you need to be more specific, love.”

You huff, “Your hair was particularly helpful when your head is between my thighs, Spence.”

Spencer smiles, thoroughly smug. “Well, I don’t think my… capabilities are diminished with my shorter hair.”

“I think we should test that theory out,” you say, looking up at him. “Don’t you think so?”

“We should,” Spencer nods, and you quickly lean forward to kiss him. He pulls you closer by your waist, your hands sliding down to his chest. The both of you fumble your way to the couch, Spencer caging you in as he gets on top of you.

He kisses you wildly, and all you can do is put your hands in his hair and kiss him, let him ravish you just like this. You moan, as his hands slide down your body, touching you all over – your tits, your waist, your thighs, down to your ass, his hands groping at you needily, eagerly.

When he gets his head between your thighs, you find that his hair is perfectly serviceable as a grip to rut against Spencer’s skillful tongue, Spencer only pulling you closer to get you off. You’re more turned on than usual, wetter as he fucks you on his fingers, thighs clamping around his head as you shake with your orgasm, riding out your high for longer.

Spencer, perceptive as he is, absolutely notices it. Wiping your release from his hand and face with a tissue, he quips, “I assume you like the haircut then?”

You grin lazily at Spencer. “Very much so.”

He leans in to kiss you and easily presses his cock into you. It doesn’t take long for you to orgasm again, and for him to follow suit.

[wonustars]

Rain or Shine Cafe

Ⱄ pairing: kwon soonyoung x f!reader Ⱄ wordcount: 10.5k Ⱄ genre: fluff, cafe coworkers au, suggestive

Ⱄ reblogs, likes and comments are always appreciated ♡! tumblr is based on reblogs not likes, and they help writers like me to get better reach. thank you!

Ⱄ summary: with no umbrella in hand on a rainy day, you felt like your life couldn’t get any worse. losing your glasses while it’s pouring cats and dogs, well maybe your life really was the worst. thankfully a faceless stranger was there to pick up your glasses and hand you his umbrella. you weren’t able to ever thank him for his act of kindness, but the sweet memory stays with you for awhile.

Ⱄ tags/warnings: cafe coworkers!soonyoung and reader, dancer!soonyoung, reader wears glasses, set in vancouver canada, they develop feelings quickly, reader is a little type a, mentions of other svt members, mentions of alcohol, hoshi tiger agenda is very present, allusions to sex, making out, grinding, groping, heavy petting (thth host voice activated), if anything is missing here lmk!

Ⱄ note: it's finally here!! this is my fic for the world tour @svthub collab hehe. thank you to my two lovely beta readers @junkissed and @highvern who helped me so much (ily both sm) ♡!!!!!! and also to the svthub members who helped me when developing the banner for this fic :) i hope you all enjoy this fic because i loved writing it and hoshi is just so silly. its all fluffy and cute and no smut which is a first for me but i hope it's still enjoyable for u all hehe. talk to u soon - anna ♡

Today was one of those days. The birds don’t sing in your wake, the sun doesn’t shine as bright. You weren’t sure what had been the catalyst to such a terrible day; maybe it was forgetting your umbrella, losing your glasses under the gloomy sky, or the rain that pitter-pattered against the pavement and mocked your misfortune.

It wasn’t until a faceless stranger entered your blurred field of vision, offering their umbrella and picking up your glasses. Before you could even thank them for their help, they whisked away so quickly that it was like they were a figment of your imagination. 

That small kind gesture had stuck with you for days, wondering if you would ever be able to meet them again. You desperately wished you could see what they looked like, but from the softness of their voice to their gentle touch, you had a feeling that their personality was just the same. 

˚∗˖⁺⑅ ˖⁺⑅˖◛

Working a shift at Rain or Shine Cafe is always the highlight of your day, especially after spending so many hectic hours at your university. The cafe was always serene, the customers were kind, and you liked how calming it would get once the Vancouver rain started to pour in. The droplets hit the glass windows in a rhythmic pattern that could probably put you to sleep if you allow. 

Rain or Shine Cafe was like your little haven from the busy city and university town. You were working the evenings while your boss, Seokmin, would cover the mornings. It was a little bit complicated with only the two of you, but you didn’t mind. You liked being the only person during your shift, it meant that you were practically your own boss. 

It wasn’t until the day that Seokmin decided it was time for a new hire, your safe space seemingly turned upside down. 

“Y/n, I’ve hired a new person, you’ll have to train them okay?” Seokmin informs you the moment you clock in. 

Giving him a defeated sigh, you knew it was time for a new coworker to join you. Although you hate the idea, you feel bad at how hard Seokmin works in the mornings, and on the rare occasions when you’re sick, evenings as well. 

“I don’t know Seokmin… are you sure I should be the one training them?” your tone wavers, if anything the owner would be able to do a better job than you at training the new hire. 

“What! You’ll do great, you’re my best employee after all,” he gives you a reassuring pat on your shoulder. 

With furrowed brows, your eyes bore holes into his back as he headed back to his office. 

“I’m your only employee!” you shout back while he can still hear you. 

The idea of having to train a new person after spending so much time finding your rhythm while working at the cafe doesn’t particularly thrill you. With many many prayers to the universe, you just hope they aren’t a pain in the ass to deal with. 

˚∗˖⁺⑅ ˖⁺⑅˖◛

Soonyoung wasn’t sure what to expect on his first day, and he was especially nervous because he’d never worked at a cafe before. Although his coordination is great when it comes to dancing, he isn’t so confident in his coffee-making skills. 

The moment he walked through the door, he saw your face shining against the afternoon sun, his heart beating so fast he thought he might have to go to the doctor for a serious case of heart palpitations. He can’t help but curse at himself silently, knowing that he is going to be extra nervous because of his extremely pretty coworker. 

As he approaches you he starts to feel a sense of familiarity bubbling at the bottom of his stomach. Wondering if he’d seen you around before, but he quickly scratched that idea knowing that there are millions of people living in the Greater Vancouver area. 

Clearing his throat he tries to get your attention as you delicately refill the pastry shelf with almond croissants and bagels. Your eyes turn towards the figure in front of the counter, assuming it’s another student from the university wanting to order. 

“U-uh hi,” Soonyoung blurts out, his pillowy cheeks turning red under your gaze. 

“Hi, what can I get for you?” you ask him, trying to ignore the awkwardness between you two. 

“Oh! I-I’m not here to order, I’m the new hire?” He tries to explain, but you can tell he feels a little unsure about being here at the cafe. 

“Oh. Soonyoung right?” 

“Yeah, that’s me, but uh- you can call me Hoshi,” he chuckles, scratching the back of his head. 

The words ‘play it cool’ keep repeating in his mind as he continues to talk to you, not wanting to make a bad first impression with his gorgeous new coworker. 

“Ah, I see, Hoshi,” you say apprehensively while nodding your head, yeah I’m not calling him that, you think to yourself. 

Seokmin told you that the new hire would be coming in for his first shift today, but he didn’t mention anything other than that. 

At first glance, Soonyoung wasn’t the type of person you expected Seokmin to hire. His dark clothing, bright blond hair and piercings along his ears didn’t scream “barista”. The aura around him screamed men’s fashion influencer just from the way he dresses. Although his clothes were casual you could tell there was still thought put into his outfit, from the baggy dark wash jeans to his graphic tee and earrings. 

“How about you come around the counter and clock in so we can get started,” you add as you finish placing the pastries on the display shelf. 

Scratching the back of his head he walks over only to hover behind you, a meek expression washes over his face. 

You turn to him with a quizzical eyebrow, not sure as to why he’s just standing there like a lost child in a supermarket. 

“H-how exactly do you clock in?” Soonyoung mumbles while twiddling his thumbs. 

“Seokmin didn’t show you where to clock in?” You question him. 

There was a part of you that had a feeling that you might have to teach him every little thing around the cafe. When Seokmin told you the new hire was coming in today, you were hoping that they would at least have a little bit of background knowledge. 

“U-uh no he pretty much hired me on the spot and told me to come in today,” he mutters, feeling a little embarrassed by your judgement, “this is actually my first job ever.” 

“Ever?” 

“Yeah, so I’m not sure why he even hired me, but I needed a job so I didn’t turn it down,” he continues, the blush on his soft cheeks becoming more apparent. 

You sigh deeply, this shift is going to feel a lot longer than you initially thought. Knowing it’s his first job means that you’ll have to train him a little slower. As you walk to show him where to clock in you silently pray that he’s a fast learner. 

Soonyoung can tell that you’re not excited to train him, and he feels bad that he doesn’t have the experience to be good at his job right away. But he’s determined to learn quickly, not wanting to disappoint you or Seokmin. 

He spent most of his time in university being able to pay for his expenses from his dance scholarship and the little money he was given from his parents, but unfortunately, it wasn’t enough to fund his trip for his and his dance troupe’s upcoming competition. 

They had entered a national competition taking place in Seattle and although the commute was only a two-hour road trip, there were so many other fees that he couldn’t afford unless he found a way to earn money. Plus if he wanted to fund both his dance trip and tiger collection, it was either he get a job near his school or he would have to resort to selling feet pics online. But getting a job at the cafe seemed like the safer and more logical option. 

“Well now that you’ve clocked in, this is your apron and the tag that Seokmin made you,” you inform him while handing him his things. 

Soonyoung doesn’t say a word, only nodding while listening to you explain how everything works at the cafe. 

“First we need you to learn all the drinks that we serve,” you explain, pushing the double doors that lead back to the main room of the building. 

“Okay, I can do that, it can’t be that hard right?”  Hoshi shrugs, trying his best to act nonchalantly to mask his nervousness. 

…

“Wait-No! That’s wrong,” your voice raises in panic as you watch Soonyoung put a fresh shot of espresso into the plastic to-go cup. 

Freezing, his eyes go wide as his mouth forms an ‘O’ shape and you start to scramble with panic. The plastic started to shrivel from the heat of the coffee. 

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know it would melt!” he exclaims, pouring the contents into the sink. 

It had been an hour of teaching Soonyoung how to make the drinks that were on the cafe menu, and he had somehow made a mistake every single step of the way. Thankfully today is a slower day in the cafe, allowing Soonyoung to observe your routine on serving customers. 

“It’s fine, how about we take a break and I'll show you how to use the oven to heat the pastries,” you sigh with defeat. 

Soonyoung’s face drops a little because he knows that he’s disappointed you. He wishes that he was good at his job the same way he is with dancing but his naturally good coordination and reflexes can only take him so far. 

“If a customer asks for a pastry they can have the option for them to be toasted in the oven, you just need to use the tongs and place them onto the rack,” you explain, demonstrating the steps that you would usually take, “then you don’t want to set the timer for more than twenty seconds or it’ll burn.” 

Soonyoung nods along, trying to follow your instructions closely, but he can’t help but get distracted by your features. Your hair is tied up, and glasses perched on your nose as you try to concentrate. He knows that it’s important to pay attention but he can’t help but feel attracted to you. There was a certain familiarity to you that he couldn’t seem to pinpoint. He hasn’t felt like this about someone he just met ever, and it’s not helping that you’re the one teaching him how to do his job properly. 

If he could stare at you during his whole shift instead of working, he would. 

“Does everything make sense so far?” you pull him out of his thoughts, staring at him expectantly. 

“Yeah, the pastry stuff seems like the most simple thing so far,” he comments, watching you put the croissant into a bag to eat after you’re off work. 

“How about we go back to making more test drinks? Just so you can get the hang of it,” you offer, wanting him to get more practice just in case it’s a busy day the next time he comes in for a shift. 

“Sure, you’re a great teacher by the way, I’m just new to all this,” he comforts you. 

“Thanks, and don’t worry too much, you’ll get better with time,” you pat his shoulder. 

You give him a smile of gratitude. The past few hours had you doubting your knowledge, patience, and teaching skills all at the same time. But his words of reassurance make you feel him warm inside. 

The way Soonyoung’s cheeks puff as he smiles makes you giggle. There was something about his soft features that made him so endearing, which made you feel a little bad for raising your voice at him earlier while he was trying to learn. 

Sure, he’s not the smartest when it comes to working at a cafe, but you have faith that he’ll be able to learn as time goes by. From the looks of it, Soonyoung seems determined to do better, that or he’s faking it. Either way, you owe it to Seokmin to show him everything you know. 

˚∗˖⁺⑅ ˖⁺⑅˖◛

“So…” Seokmin looks at you expectantly while you get ready to start your shift, “how was it?” 

“Well… he’s definitely new,” you sigh as you put on your apron and clock in. 

Seokmon gives you a concerned look, he felt a little bad for handing Soonyoung over to you knowing he had zero experience working in a cafe, but he trusted you, his best (only) employee to be able to train him well.

“Everything went well though, right?” he asks you, trailing behind you like a lost puppy. 

You can’t help but laugh at the way he follows you to the counter, wanting to hear every detail about what happened during your last shift. 

There wasn’t much to say other than the fact that Soonyoung wasn’t very good at his job, but you don’t want to be an asshole and rat him out when you could tell how eager he is to do his job properly. Instead, you decided to lie to your kind, and very naive boss. 

“Oh he’s perfect, honestly you made the right decision in hiring him,” you force a smile. 

Seokmin’s eyes light up with excitement, you could practically see his imaginary tail wagging back and forth with happiness. He trusts you so much that he never thought to hire anyone else, meaning this was a big step for him and the cafe. You could already start to feel the guilt seep into your nerves as he stared at you with so much trust.

“Really? Oh, thank god, I was so nervous when he told me he’s never had a job in his life before, honestly Y/n, I’m so happy and I’m sure things will–” Seokmin is cut off by the jingle of the bell above the door. 

Both your heads whip around as Soonyoung enters the cafe with a bright smile along his lips, refreshed from the last time he was in and ready to work a real shift this time. His clothing was more appropriate for work, a simple black tee shirt and black pants, his blond hair reflecting with the sun, giving him a halo effect. 

You wish you had met Soonyoung in different settings, then you would be able to admit how attractive he is. If only he wasn’t such a clutz, then maybe you would have a full-blown crush on him. 

“Afternoon Soonyoung,” Seokmin smiles at him. 

Fridays were always the busiest days at the cafe, even during the evening. You're just hoping that the odds were in your favour and Soonyoung actually retained all the information you told him last time you saw him. 

“Afternoon everyone!” he exclaims cheerfully. 

Waving at him you watch him descend to the back to clock in for his shift, your stomach churns with anxiety because you aren’t sure how well today is going to go. 

“Okay Y/n I’m off, you’re in charge as always,” Seokmin declared before leaving. 

… 

About half an hour into your shift, the pace of the cafe started to pick up and the line was starting to get longer. As the clock hit three-thirty, all the university students started to pile into the tiny building. 

You were starting to sweat and because Soonyoung still doesn’t know how to make all of the drinks you put him on cashier and pastry duty. It seems to be the only way that you were able to get through to all the customers in a timely manner. 

“Is there really only two of you?” A male customer whines at the back of the line, clearly annoyed by the wait. 

“Yes, unfortunately, this is usually the busiest time of the day for us,” you try to explain politely, but your anger issues start to creep up onto the surface. 

The overstimulation from the heat of the coffee as well as the chatter of customers was causing your patience to thin. You didn’t want to have to argue with anyone today, especially because you had a newbie working with you. 

“Could you at least hurry it up?” He scoffs, eyes rolling with annoyance. 

You don’t reply to his complaints, because if you were to start talking you would probably end up starting a fight mid-shift. 

“Dude, you can’t talk to her like that,” Soonyoung retaliated, obviously annoyed with the whiny customer. 

“What’d you say to me?” the customer fumes, coming to the front of the counter. 

The two men size up each other while you stand there a little shocked at how fast Soonyoung was to defend you. 

Soonyoung scowls as he stares at the asshole who was yelling at you. He wasn’t expecting people to get so angry over coffee but he wasn’t going to let someone disrespect you. 

“I said, you can’t talk to her like that,” he seethes, looking at the customer up and down with his chest puffed out, “if you’re so sick of waiting then go somewhere else.” 

“You know what I will. I don’t want some slow bitch making my drink anyways,” the customer retorts. 

“Fuck you! And don’t come back!” Soonyoung yells at his descending figure and turns at you silently asking if you were alright. 

His soft eyes had your heart palpitating, you never took him for the type of person to defend you from mean customers. If you weren’t fully attracted to him before, now you are. There was something about the way his demeanour had changed while trying to protect you that made you look at him in a different light. 

… 

By the time it was closer to the end of both you and Soonyoung’s shift, the amount of customers coming in slowed down considerably, allowing you to rest after what had happened earlier. 

The sun was down and it was nearing eight in the evening. While you were cleaning the counters and organizing for the morning shift, Soonyoung was mopping the floors and putting the chairs back in order. He looked peaceful as he was cleaning, you couldn’t help but stare. 

Soonyoung’s jawline is sharp as he appears to be deep in thought, and you allow yourself to admire the way his biceps flexed under his shirt as he swayed the mop back and forth. The veins along his forearms popped with each movement he made, you practically had to pinch yourself in order to not get caught ogling at him. 

“Uhm, I just wanted to say thanks for earlier, you didn’t have to do all that,” you speak up, catching his attention, “I appreciate it.” 

Soonyoung chuckles while shaking his head, giving you that same smile he did on the first day. The one that made his eyes look like a cute emoticon, and his cheeks puffy as if he were a hamster. 

“It wasn’t that big of a deal, I wasn’t going to let that asshole talk to you like that,” he shrugs nonchalantly. 

“Yeah I know, but still, thank you,” you reiterate, heat starting to creep up your neck as you recall the way he acted earlier.

“Of course,” he continues to smile before he says something you didn’t expect, “also, I know we’re not all that close, but me and my friends were going to go to the bar down the street. Do you want to join us?” 

Your eyes widen in shock, an answer flying out of your mouth before you can even think properly, “Sure!” 

“Okay, cool!” his eyes lit up at your acceptance to his invite, “we’re going to watch one of my friend’s shows, so you can meet me here again at like, 10 pm?”

“Are you sure they’re okay with me coming though? I don’t wanna impose,” you ask with uncertainty. 

“Yeah, of course, they’re chill,” he reassures you before going back to finish his task. 

Turning around you silently scream at the thought of going out with Soonyoung, being able to talk to him off work hours, it made you blush deeply. You don’t understand why you’re reacting this way all of a sudden as if you weren’t constantly annoyed by his clumsiness just a week ago, but you’re not opposed to the feelings of your developing crush on your coworker. 

˚∗˖⁺⑅ ˖⁺⑅˖◛

This was the first time in Soonyoung’s life that he had been wrecked with nervousness. Not even when he was performing on stage did his nerves get the best of him. You were just so pretty, and the more he worked with you, the more he wanted to get to know you, to interact with you outside the cafe and learn more about your personality. 

“Soonyoung!” he hears you call out for him, forcing him to look up from the pavement. 

His heart beats out of his chest, and his palms start to sweat. Your hair is down and frames your face. As you start to get closer he allows himself to appreciate the view in front of him. The moonlight shining above, the stars twinkling beautifully and yet he can’t seem to take his eyes off of you. 

Your outfit suited you so well, a short skirt, an oversized graphic tee and a pair of knee-high boots. So this is what you look like outside of work, Soonyoung thought to himself. He already found you attractive in your work clothes, with your brown apron and baseball cap. But seeing you like this made his mouth go dry, forcing him to gulp like a starved man. 

“H-hey! You look really good,” he stutters and he curses at himself silently from how nervous he is. 

“Thank you, you too,” you blush, a timid expression falling on your face, not being able to meet his eyes as you play with the keychain on your bag. 

“Are you ready to go?” he asks, his head nudging in the direction of the bar. 

You nod with a smile, following his steps toward your destination. With clammy hands, you grip the strap of your bag while you and Soonyoung walk in perfect harmony. This is the first time you’ve gone for a night out in a while, and your body is filled with nervousness and excitement at the thought of being able to spend more time with Soonyoung. 

… 

“Hoshi! The show is about to start, what took you so long?” a brown-haired man calls out, walking towards the two of you. 

His eyes widened with curiosity, realizing that Soonyoung hadn’t come to the bar alone tonight. 

“And who is this?” he asks, observing you closely with a glass of beer in his hand. 

“Y/n, this is Seungkwan, Kwan, this is Y/n,” Soonyoung introduces the two of you, and you can only reply with a shy wave and smile. 

“I see,” he mutters, taking a sip from his glass. 

Seungkwan’s eyes are boring holes into your face and it causes your cheeks to heat up. 

“She’s my coworker at Rain or Shine,” Soonyoung adds, before giving Seungkwan a pointed look. 

Seungkwan, although usually friendly, is very intrigued as to why you were brought over to hang out with Soonyoung and their friends tonight. It wasn’t a normal occurrence for Soonyoung to bring anyone new to Vernon’s shows, especially a girl. He concluded that you must mean something to Hoshi, and not just because you’re his coworker. 

“Ohh okay, it’s nice to meet you,” Seungkwan smiles and that allows you to let out a breath of relief that you didn’t realize that you were holding, “but we should get to our seats, the show is about to start.” 

There’s a collective agreement and the three of you head over to a reserved table that’s located closer to the stage. It must be a perk to know the band that was playing because it had the best view in the bar. 

As you reach the table you meet with a few more people sitting around talking and drinking. Your naturally introverted attitude increases tenfold when your eyes lay on the group of men talking loudly and laughing with each other. 

“Soonyoung’s finally here! And he’s brought a friend,” Seungkwan announces, his back facing you and you don’t catch the way his eyebrows wiggle suggestively. 

The group’s conversation is cut off and they go over to greet you and Soonyoung. They were all so tall and attractive, you didn’t expect it at all. But it somehow makes sense that someone as good-looking as Soonyoung would also have good-looking friends. 

“Y/n, this is Chan, Mingyu and Minghao,” Soonyoung introduces you, pointing everyone out one by one. 

“Hi, I work with Soonyoung at the cafe,” you greet them with a small wave. 

The three men smile at you warmly before you sit down, and Mingyu is the first one to talk to you. You’re awestruck at how attractive he is, his wide smile and sharp teeth poking out added a charming factor to him that you wouldn’t notice if it were anyone else. 

“Hi, did you want something to drink?” he asks you, his voice husky and warm. 

“A diet coke and rum is fine,” you tell him and he nods before getting up and heading to the bar. 

Watching him walk away, you turn your attention back onto Soonyoung who seems to be deep in conversation with Chan. Seeing him laugh and talk with his friends is new to you, and it makes your stomach flutter at how concentrated he is. 

“No I can’t give you the leftover pastries, stop asking me, I literally just started working there,” Soonyoung groans as Chan begs him for leftover almond croissants. 

A giggle escapes your lips as you watch how desperate Chan is for a free croissant, you’ve never seen someone so passionate over bread before. 

“I can give one to Soonyoung next time we close, we always have leftovers,” you chime in, giving Chan a warm smile.

Chan practically lights up with excitement and Soonyoung rolls his eyes at the fact that his younger friend is somehow always able to get what he wants. You can’t help but smile at how eager he is over such a simple thing.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to do that,” Soonyoung looks at you. 

He watches as you give him a reassuring smile, your eyes reflecting the bar lights. There are so many things that he got to learn about you today. The way you get shy meeting new people, yet you’re kind and willing to get to know his friends. You were tugging on his heartstrings and he didn’t want to stop getting to know the little things about you. 

“Yeah, it’s fine, Seokmin always lets me bring some home after my shift is over anyways,” you wave your hand, letting Chan know that Seokmin is a chill manager. 

“Really? Thank you Y/n,” Chan gives you a look of gratitude, going over to hug you. Laughing at his sudden burst of affection, you pat his back while telling him it wasn’t that big of a deal. 

The lights in the bar started to dim and you see Mingyu coming back with your drink. He places it in front of you and says not to worry about paying for it. There wasn’t much arguing coming from your side, who are you to refuse a free drink? Instead, you thank him and pay attention to the band coming out onto the stage. 

“Oh yeah, whatever happened to your ‘beautiful stranger’? Did you ever find her?” you hear Chan ask right before the band performs. 

There was a pause in the air and Soonyoung’s words were drowned out by the music. You are grateful for the fact that you couldn’t hear his answer. Honestly, you didn’t want to know what he had said in response. Instead of worrying over something you had no right to worry about, you allow the music to take over you. Paying close attention to the melodic singing flowing through the speakers. 

… 

“Thank you for inviting me out tonight, I enjoyed it,” you break the silence on the walk home to your apartment. 

Soonyoung offered to walk you home and you refused but he insisted that he wouldn’t be able to sleep properly if you walked alone at this hour. The time was nearing one in the morning and you were able to meet the rest of his friends after the show. They were all nice to you, except for that first moment with Seungkwan, but he warmed up shortly after. 

The descent to your place was relatively quiet, the two of you admiring the Vancouver skyline and high mountains. Sometimes you forget that you live in such a beautiful place, a city that never sleeps. You watched Soonyoung appreciate his view and you smiled inwardly at how content he seemed. 

Watching him interact with his friends earlier warmed your heart, he looked so happy being around them it made you forget how bad he is at his job, and that he’s a little clueless when it comes to working at the cafe. You felt bad about getting angry with him so quickly, but as you started to understand him more, you realized that there’s more to him than his clumsiness. He’s a bright person, he has the resemblance of a ball of sunshine. Always smiling, eager to bond with his friends, to laugh and to make thoughtful memories. 

You realize how much you had envied him in that moment. It’s easy for him to get along with everyone, and the fact that he’s able to go out without overthinking the smallest things. You just wanted to be as carefree as Soonyoung. 

“It's no problem, I wanted you to come, and they all loved you!” he chirped, eyes turning into slits from a wide smile. You blush at his outward personality. 

“Well, this is me,” you motion toward the entrance of your apartment building.

 You were a little embarrassed at its homely nature. All the nicer apartments surrounding your tiny building. But you couldn’t help but think that it had a charm to it that the modern buildings in Vancouver didn’t have. 

“Have a good night Y/n,” Soonyoung grinned as you two stood there, the breeze flowing through your fingertips while you stared into his sparkling eyes. 

“Have a good night Soonyoung,” you repeat him, and he doesn’t say anything else, pulling you into a hug. 

Soonyoung wasn’t sure if you like to be hugged, and he was hesitant at first, but with the way you were staring at him, he couldn’t help but want to hold you. He understands that you aren’t that close, but he knows he wants to get to know you more. 

As he holds you in his arms, he breathes in your scent, and it’s addicting. You smelt like a rainy day, reading books against the window sill and drinking a warm cup of tea. You felt like home to him, he finds it odd that he thinks of you that way so early on in your friendship, but he can’t help it. Soonyoung doesn’t want to deny his growing feelings for you. 

Although you were surprised by his actions you didn’t hate the way his arms felt around you. Strong and muscular, holding you tight while you breathe in the scent of his cologne. He smelt good, like roasting marshmallows over a campfire, or a beach day where the sun warmed your skin in the best way. 

There's something comforting about Soonyoung’s demeanour, his personality, his everything. Why was he so nice to you? Why did he express so much interest in someone he barely knows? You didn’t know and you were too shy to ask. 

He pulls away and opens the first door to your building for you, making sure you enter safe and sound. But before you could get to the door with the lock he asks you a question. 

“Uh, Chan and I have a dance showcase coming up next weekend, did you wanna come and see me perform?” Soonyoung asks while blushing. 

“I’d love to!” You answer back, and he just nods, letting go of you so that you can go up to your apartment and rest. 

“I’ll text you the details! Good night!” He yells from down the sidewalk, arm flailing to wave goodbye. You can’t help but giggle at him, your cheeks heating up at his goofy personality. 

As you enter your apartment, your mind travels back to the question Chan had asked Soonyoung before the band started performing. Who was this beautiful stranger that he was talking about? It made your stomach churn at the possibility that Soonyoung wouldn’t be available if you decided to tell him about the crush you’d developed. Sighing at the thought, you try to not let it affect you. You’ve only known him for a short time, and there’s no reason for you to feel jealous of someone you’re not even sure that he knows.

˚∗˖⁺⑅ ˖⁺⑅˖◛

“How was your weekend, kiddo?” Seokmin’s presence welcomes you into his cafe, giving you a dazzling smile. 

“It was fun, me and Soonyoung went out with his friends,” you blushed as you recollected the time you got to spend with him. 

Seokmin walks up to you, his eyes panning over your body, eyebrow quirked up. He taps his chin acting as if he’s in deep thought before moving closer, sniffing you and you almost slap him square on the cheek. But he’s quick to avoid your hand. 

“I smell a crush!” He points his finger at you, his tone accusatory. 

“What?! Pfft, I don’t have a crush,” you deny his allegations, but your forehead starts to collect sweat out of nervousness. 

You didn’t think that Seokmin would put you on the spot like this, but it would feel awkward to admit that you have a crush on your coworker. Who just so happened to start working here less than two weeks ago. 

“Don’t lie to me, I can smell it on you! You have a crush,” Seokmin sang, dancing around you teasingly. Poking at your cheeks like you were a grizzly bear he’s trying to provoke. 

“Okay! Okay. Maybe I do have a crush, but it doesn’t mean anything,” you sigh, admitting your feelings so that your boss, nearly ten years older than you, would stop prancing around like a lunatic for all the passersby to see. 

“Why? What if he likes you back,” he wiggles his eyebrows, and you cringe at him. 

Leave it up to Seokmin to disregard professionalism in the workplace. If anything he was more like your surrogate dad that liked to be filled in on the latest drama. 

“He doesn’t,” you deflate, moving over to clock in and put on your apron. 

You know for a fact that Soonyoung couldn’t like you back, his mind was too preoccupied with much more important things, and some other girl who he doesn’t even know. 

“What are you? A mind reader?” Seokmin teases you, not wanting to see you pretend to be so apathetic.

Of course, you couldn’t read minds, but it was clear that Soonyoung’s interest lay somewhere else.  You don’t even know what to say to Seokmin at the moment, how do you even explain your feelings properly? Yes, you have a teeny crush on your coworker, but that’s all it should be, right? It wouldn’t be realistic to date him. 

The chime of the bell hanging on top of the door breaks your thoughts, “Good afternoon to my amazing boss, and my amazing coworker!”

Soonyoung is practically skipping through the door with delight, and it makes you smile. He always seemed so cheerful coming into work. It warms your heart. 

“Ahh good to see you Soonyoung,” Seokmin smiles, watching his figure disappear into the back. 

He turns to you and makes a face, his eyebrows wiggling while his lips widen into a shit-eating grin. Seokmin can’t help but tease you, he finds it cute that you have a crush on Soonyoung. In all the years that you’ve been working for him, there hasn’t been a time where he’s seen you so smitten over a boy. 

You roll your eyes at him, shooing him away before Soonyoung comes out and realizes why your boss is teasing you. 

… 

Once Seokmin had left, you and Soonyoung were left to fend for yourselves. Although today wasn’t as busy as the last time you were working with each other, it wasn’t a shift with Soonyoung if there wasn’t at least one thing that went wrong. 

You were minding your business, restocking some of the supplies in the storage room. As you were peacefully putting new syrups on the shelves, there was a high-pitched scream coming from the front part of the cafe. Your eyes widen at the sound, and you come rushing to the counter. 

“What happened?!” you stumbled in, your chest heaving as you tried to get to Soonyoung as fast as you could. 

“I-Uh-,” Soonyoung seems to be at a loss for words, you can he the audible gulp before he continues, “there was a spider, and I tried to kill it but I lost it.” 

A wave of relief washes over you as you realize that no one is hurt and the building is not on fire. Your eyes travel to where he’s crouched behind the counter, hands gripping the marble while his eyes peek over to observe the spider crawling across the floor. You can’t help but laugh at how terrified he is over a small insect. Instead of cowering away in fear beside him, you walk over to where the spider had begun to crawl up the leg of one of the chairs. 

“Y/n be careful! You could die if you get stung, and then we would have to call 911, and what if you don’t make it? I’d feel so guilty, I would carry the weight of my guilt as I grow old, we would hold memorials for you–Oh." His sentence comes to an abrupt stop as he sees you grab the spider with a tissue and place it back outside onto the pavement. 

“It was just a daddy long legs, no need to be afraid,” you reassure him. 

Soonyoung sighs in relief before standing up, patting down his clothes to get rid of the imaginary dust. He wipes his forehead as if he were the one to take care of the insect problem. 

“If there’s anything else wrong just call for me, I’ll be in the back,” you announce, hoping that would be the first and last incident for the day. 

Soonyoung nods, giving you a thumbs up as you walk into the back. You let out a breath of relief, giggling to yourself, recollecting the memory of him crouched behind the counter. The redness on your cheeks doesn’t seem to fade at the thought of him cowering over a small spider. 

No matter what Soonyoung does, you can’t help but find him endearing. And when he’s not, you find him undeniably attractive. How does this happen? How does one guy who once annoyed you turn into someone who has you completely flustered? It feels odd falling for someone so fast, and you’re just hoping he’ll feel the same. Especially because no one has had this effect on you before. 

The more you think about your budding feelings for Soonyoung, you’re constantly reminded of the fact that he’s searching for someone he thinks is his soulmate. You’re apprehensive, but at the same time, he might never find her. So what’s the point of trying to fight these feelings knowing you’re competing with someone he isn’t sure even exists? 

˚∗˖⁺⑅ ˖⁺⑅˖◛

There were tingles all over your body. Today was the day of Soonyoung’s dance showcase. Although you were excited to see him in his element, you were still nervous. It’s only been a month since you two met and him working at the cafe, but even then, you still feel like a stranger to his outside life. You weren’t sure why he invited you, but you’re grateful that you’ll be able to witness this side of him. 

As you make your way into the auditorium of his University, you find yourself in awe at the amount of people in the crowd. It was obvious that his dance team was well-liked at his school, causing admiration to bloom within your chest. 

Looking around for a familiar face, you spot Seungkwan and Mingyu sitting in the front row that’s reserved for close friends and family for the people on the dance team. You make eye contact with them, their hands motioning for you to come and sit with them. 

“Y/n! You came, Soonyoung is going to be so excited,” Mingyu exclaims, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. 

You laugh at how excited he is to see you, your cheeks turning red at the mention of Soonyoung. As you pull away, you say hello to Seungkwan before taking your seat between them. 

The three of you make a little small talk until the lights start to dim and the spotlight glows against the stage. Your heart is beating out of your chest as you spot Soonyoung walking onto the stage. His hair and makeup were styled, his outfit complimenting his muscular arms perfectly. You’re thankful that the background music was loud enough, hoping that neither Seungkwan nor Mingyu heard the enormous gulp you took the moment your eyes laid on their best friend. 

“Good evening everyone! Thank you all for coming to our showcase tonight, I hope you enjoy the performances we prepared,” Soonyoung speaks into the mic, his eyes gleaming under the bright stage lights. 

Your breath is caught in your throat once again, Soonyoung’s confidence exuding from where he stands. He looks so handsome under all the bright lights as if he’s born to be on stage. To dance or to entertain, he has the charisma to make the audience laugh and cheer for him. 

You’re hot in your seat, your hands starting to sweat as he continues to charm the crowd. 

“Everyone has worked so hard for this, and you all get a sneak peek at our performance for the National Dance Competition taking place in Seattle!” He informs the crowd, his smile widening as he unveils his dance troupe's little secret. 

As he walks off stage you can’t help but stare in awe, anticipation swirls in your stomach as the lights start to dim once again. The dancers fill up the stage, indicating the start of the performance and you can see the outline of Soonyoung’s frame from where you sit. 

Soonyoung’s eyes blaze in the stage lights as the spotlight is cast on him. The dancers are behind him in their rightful positions as the music starts to play. With your mouth agape, you watch his body flow with the music. The strong bass of hip-hop flows through the speakers with every move Soonyoung makes along with his dance crew. The rest of the crowd sits there cheering them on while you’re left speechless. 

The serious gaze he holds, as he dances, makes your knees weak, especially because you can tell how passionate he is about his craft. He was made for dancing, born to tell a story with his limbs as they move languidly with the beat of the song. 

As the routine comes to an end you can’t help but feel lucky to see Soonyoung in his element. Far from the man who you’ve witnessed make the most silly mistakes while working, he’s so different on stage. Although you’ve come to appreciate his presence at the cafe, seeing him dance instills a profound sense of pride in your stomach. 

With each passing second the dance routine comes to a close, Soonyoung spots you in the front row as he continues to move on stage. His eyes widen as his gaze sets upon you before sending you a flirtatious wink. He goes back to facing the centre of the crowd, your whole body enveloped in heat. 

The song ends and you’re left sitting there with shocks of electricity passing through your entire body. Your crush on Soonyoung has turned into something deeper. 

…

Your palms sweat profusely as you stand at the entrance of the auditorium, an almond croissant in one hand and a bouquet of yellow flowers in the other. While you stand and wait for Soonyoung to come out of the dressing room, your mind is filled with thoughts of his performance. The image of him on stage doesn't leave your thoughts, not even for a second. 

“Y/n!” You hear a voice call out for you, pulling you out of your light daydreaming. 

Turning your head in the direction of the voice, your eyes land on Soonyoung, his tall figure making its way over to where you are. Your breath is caught in your throat as your gaze focuses on him. Bareface but his hair still styled, he looked breathtaking.

“Soonyoung! Hi, you were amazing up there,” you tell him breathlessly. 

  He smiles bashfully at your compliment, his cheeks turning red at your appreciation. Soonyoung doesn’t take compliments well as it is, but when it’s coming from you, he becomes even more flustered. The twinkle in your eyes never leaves as you smile at him. 

Pulling you into a hug, your shoulders tense in surprise at his sudden burst of affection, but you don’t hate it. You don’t mind how he likes to express his gratitude towards you. Instead, you embrace it, relaxing as his strong arms hold you close. You don’t ever get tired of how good he smells. Warm, bright, and comforting, like the sun personified.  

“Thank you for coming, you don’t know how much this means to me,” he mumbles while his arms are still wrapped around you. 

Your face buries itself deeper in his chest as you hear him talk, wanting to hide your already burning face from him. He makes you feel like you’re important like he would’ve been disappointed if you didn’t show up tonight. 

Pulling away, Soonyoung smiles at you, the same smile that reaches his eyes in the most adorable way. And then he notices the bouquet of flowers that are held tightly in your grasp. His eyes widen, cheeks red, he’s never received flowers in his life before, but he’s happy you’re the first. 

“Is that for me?” he asks, and you nod shyly, “thank you! You didn’t need to get me something, I invited you remember?” 

“I know but I wanted to thank you for inviting me, think of it as an advanced congratulations when you win the dance tournament next month,” you say as you hand him the bouquet. 

“Also, the croissant is for Chan, I know I promised to get him one,” you add. 

His laugh rings through your ears delightfully, finding it cute that you make good on your promises. Even the smallest things like getting a croissant for his best friend, he admires everything about you. The fact that you’re so earnest and willing to share so much with the people he cares about. He falls for you more as each day passes. 

Soonyoung knows it hasn’t been long since he’s met you, but he doesn’t care. He knows that he likes you, that he wants to take you out, shower you in all his love and affection, and do whatever it takes to see you smile. He doesn’t care about time unless he can spend the rest of it with you. 

˚∗˖⁺⑅ ˖⁺⑅˖◛

When Soonyoung asked to hang out after his dance showcase, you couldn’t help but happily oblige. The way he looks at you, how he shows that he wants to spend time with you makes your stomach flutter. How could one possibly say no to someone like him? 

As you two walk over to his apartment, your palms begin to sweat again, even with the cool Vancouver breeze that flows between you. You think about how close you two have gotten since that first day in the cafe, and you can only smile to yourself. He makes you feel wanted, like there's more between you than just friendly coworkers.

 Although you want to tell him how much you’ve grown to like him, there's a part of you that still holds back, just because of that little comment Chan made all those weeks ago. 

“We’re here!” Soonyoung announces, stepping into the front entrance of his apartment. 

It’s considerably nicer than the one you live in, making you feel slightly intimidated by the high-rise building. You tried not to let it show, but you didn’t fully realize how different you two were until now. He’s outgoing, a ball of sunshine. You tend to prefer living in solace, keeping to yourself whether it be at work or school. 

“Your place is nice,” you comment as your eyes follow the expanse of the building's height. 

“Thank you! Let’s get inside, I think it’s about to start raining,” Soonyoung ushers you in, already noticing the way the clouds start to thicken in the evening sky. 

The ride up to the elevator is peaceful, you two enjoy each other's company in silence while you continue to admire the building. As he leads you to the front door of his apartment, your breath gets stuck in your throat once more. You knew Soonyoung was a stylish individual, but you didn’t think that a person in university had much knowledge of interior design. 

In short, you found his home to be comforting, the furniture and decorations suited his personality perfectly. It felt warm, it felt like a home. 

If only you knew, that Soonyoung was just as nervous as you. His heart beats faster as your eyes look over his apartment. He cleaned it this morning in hopes that you would say yes to coming over. Otherwise it would’ve embodied a pig stye, and he couldn’t have the girl he has feelings for thinking that he was a slob. 

“Your place is beautiful, Soonyoung,” you mumble as you continue to look around. 

“Really?” He acts shy, scratching the back of his head. 

“Yeah! I like it, it suits you,” you turn back to him, flashing him a warm smile that makes his cheeks heat up. 

Soonyoung releases a breath that he didn’t realize that he was even holding, happy to know that your first impression of his home is positive. Usually when he has his friends over they tell him it can get a little messy, especially when Mingyu visits. His best friend is always helping him clean up the place because of his natural tendency to declutter any space he’s in. 

“Do you wanna watch a movie? Or maybe just talk…?” Soonyoung stutters a bit, his head all over the place because the girl he has been crushing on is in front of him. Not while his other friends are around, and not in a workplace setting either. 

He doesn’t know how to act when you’re around, he’s typically not a shy person, but when you’re around all his thoughts fly out the window. 

“Uhm, talking is just fine with me,” you laugh at how red his face has gotten. 

There was an obvious tension in the air and it was hard for you to ignore, but you’re just happy to be alone with him. For once, his friends weren’t here or Seokmin, it was just you and Soonyoung. 

He grabs your hand as if he had no control over his actions, guiding you over to his couch. You two sit there, a little closer than what would be considered friendly for coworkers. His eyes twinkled against the ambient lighting. 

“What did you want to talk about?” you ask innocently, trying to ignore the rising tension between you. 

Soonyoung shies away from your gaze, your eyes becoming the size the saucers the more you stare at him. He wants to tell you how he feels, although he isn’t sure that you feel the same. He wants to take his chance with you while it’s still in front of him. 

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you, and I’m actually really nervous but I just need to say it,” he lets out another puff of breath, trying to calm his nerves. 

The beating in your chest increases with each word Soonyoung says, and you don’t know how to feel. You’re nervous too, but you want to hear what he has to say. You feel his hand over yours, squeezing it softly. He’s not sure whether it's to soothe himself or you, but it's working. 

“I like you, I know we didn’t meet that long ago, but every time I see you I get so happy, and I love how all my friends like you, and you’re just so beautiful, I can’t keep it to myself anymore, but if you don’t feel the same–,” He blurts out, redness crawling up from his neck to his cheeks once again. 

Before you could even register anything past the words ‘I like you’, you pull him into a hug, which is not something normal for you, but Soonyoung is the exception. You can’t help but want to hold him in your arms, your own personal ball of sunshine that has been crafted specifically for you. 

“I like you too,” you whisper in his ear as you hold him close. 

Soonyoung gasped in surprise at your declaration, and you could practically feel him vibrating in his seat with excitement. 

He pulls back from the hug with the biggest smile on his face, eyes brighter than the stars that have been covered by the rain clouds swirling outside his window, “You do?” 

“Yes, I do like you back,” you giggle while intertwining your fingers with his, “but I’ve been holding back ever since that night at the bar.” 

Soonyoung raises an eyebrow, trying to rack his brain as he thinks of every moment that happened between you that night, but nothing comes to mind. 

“Wait why? What happened?” He asks, curious as to why you two have gone this long without confessing to each other. 

“It was something Chan said…” you trail off, staring at how your fingers are laced between his. 

“Fucking Chan,” he curses at his best friend, “what did he say exactly?” 

“Well he didn’t really say anything, but he just asked you a question on the stranger who you’re convinced is your soul mate or whatever,” you shrug your shoulders, trying to act like such a simple thing didn’t torment you for weeks. 

Soonyoung eyebrows raise even more and his mouth forms an ‘O’ shape, and he starts to connect the dots. He didn’t think that would be the reason you hadn’t told him. If anything, he thought it was because he was not very good at his job at the cafe or that you just weren’t sure about your feelings. 

“Oh, that… well I got over it a long time ago. It happened at the front of the cafe, this girl lost her glasses and it was raining and everything. I didn’t see her face because she walked away so fast I didn’t get a chance to act on it.” He recalls the moment between him and the stranger, “I was going in for my interview with Seokmin so I picked up her glasses and gave her my umbrella.” 

Sitting quietly beside him, your heart plummets to the bottom of your stomach. This whole time, the person who helped you on what you considered one of your worst days to date, was Soonyoung? You aren’t even sure what to say but it's almost laughable. As if the universe had known that you two were meant to meet one way or the other. 

“Soonyoung, that was me,” you reveal to him, and his eyes widen. 

“THAT WAS YOU?” He practically jumps out of his seat, hands now placed on your shoulder, inspecting every corner of your face, “now that I think of it, your glasses do look familiar.” 

Bursting out laughing, you can’t believe that he would react in this way. He looks like he’s just been let in on an ancient secret, “to be fair, I didn’t know it was you either, I’m practically blind without my glasses so I didn’t see your face.” 

“Oh my god, we’re meant to be,” he mutters to himself, his hand covering his mouth in shock. 

Soonyoung is elated, to say the least, he gave up on his beautiful stranger the moment he laid his eyes on you. But to find that you are his beautiful stranger. Well, now he knows that he can’t ever let you go. 

“I hope you know we’re locked in for life now,” he stares at you earnestly, taking both your hands in his and you look at him quizzically, “Sorry baby, but we can’t disappoint the universe after all the hard work they put into our love story.” 

You giggle at him, even when it’s just the two of you, he’s just as silly. That's what you like about him though, the fact that he makes you laugh and smile practically on command. You’ve never laughed this hard with anyone before, Seokmin probably being the only exception, but you don’t want to think about your boss right now. 

“Baby? Eager aren’t we?” you tease, and Soonyoung blushes hard, moving away from your peering eyes as he lets go of your hands. 

“I can’t help it, you’ll just have to get used to it,” he shrugs, acting nonchalant, but you can see the way he side-eyes you, wanting to still see your reaction. 

“Does this mean you’ll take me out on dates? And all the other couple stuff,” you whisper in his ear, your hands circling his bicep as he faces away from you. 

“W-well duh! Of course, I’m gonna take you on a proper date, I need to show you how good of a boyfriend I can be!” he exclaims and another giggle slips past your lips. 

Squeezing his muscular arm tighter, you can feel his pulse increasing under your touch, “boyfriend? When did I say anything about you being my boyfriend.” 

Those few words break his act and he turns to you in shock, he looks like a deer in headlights. Soonyoung is embarrassed about how ahead of himself he’s gotten but he doesn’t want to date anyone else either. If you’re not going to become his girl, then he’d rather just give up on dating altogether. 

“I want to be your boyfriend, like really really bad, but only if you’ll let me,” he declares, eyes piercing into your soul with all seriousness. 

Watching his demeanour change once more makes you gulp involuntarily.

“I want to be your girlfriend, like really really bad,” you echo his words. 

Gasping, Soonyoung can’t contain his happiness, pulling you into a tight hug, and showering your cheeks with kisses. Giggling in his arms, your stomach begins to hurt at how much he can make you laugh in such a short amount of time. 

Your body heats up at his affection, feeling the way his plush lips press against your skin. You haven’t felt something like this in a long time, but the fact that it’s Soonyoung makes it better. 

Getting up from the couch you stand in front of him, and he’s confused as to why you pulled yourself away. Did he take it too far by kissing you like that? He can feel the apprehension rising within himself as he stares up at you. 

“Do you wanna show me to your room?” You ask, and Soonyoung has never stood up so fast in his life ever before. 

Taking your hand in his, he leads you to his bedroom. As he opens the door you're met with at least twenty different tiger stuffed animals staring at you. Soonyoung on the other hand isn’t phased at all, if anything, he takes pride in his plushie collection. 

“Do you… collect all of these?” you ask him, and he just smiles and nods. 

You decide to have a conversation about the plushie collection another day, but you do find it cute that he’s into something seemingly harmless. 

Sitting on his bed, he doesn’t take his place beside you right away. Instead, Soonyoung carefully turns each tiger plushie around so that they’re all facing away from his bed. He turns back at your figure sitting on his mattress, a shy smile across his lips. 

“Can’t have them witnessing what we’re about to do y’know,” he giggles before turning the last tiger around. 

Once he is finally done, he jumps into the bed and smothers you tightly in his strong arms. You’re not over the whole tiger thing, but at least he’s happy, you think to yourself. 

“Now where were we?” He looks at you, eyes still glittering even in the dim lighting of his room. 

You shake your head and smile at him, pushing him down so that he's lying with his back against the bed. Each of your legs moves over his hips, hands feeling up his chest. 

Leaning closer, you two share your first kiss, and it’s everything you’ve hoped for. The two of you move together in perfect sync as he grabs your sides tightly. 

“You’re a good kisser,” you mumble against him, and he just smiles as he pulls you into another kiss. 

His hands move lower on your body, your skirt hiking up your thighs as he grips at your flesh. Your skin is so soft, and he can’t get over how sweet your lips taste. Soonyoung knows if he were to miraculously die now, he would die a very happy man. 

Soft moans leave your mouth as he gropes your ass under your skirt, feeling the way your lack of clothes leaves more for him to grasp at. He can’t stop touching you, exploring your body like it’s his and his only to discover. The fact that you even agreed to let him be your boyfriend was enough for him, but also getting laid on the same night, well, Soonyoung could really die a happy man.��

The kiss becomes heated with each second that passes, but Soonyoung just wants to let you know how much he likes you. You invade his thoughts relentlessly, not that he’s opposed to it at all. But he likes the way you smile at him every time he tells you how much he wants to be with you. 

“I’m so happy you’re mine,” he whispers to you, your smile widening even more. 

“I’m happy you’re mine too,” you repeat his words again, giving him the same reassurance he gives you. 

Out of all the people you could fall for, you’re happy it was your clumsy coworker with an oddly large tiger collection. You’re thankful for the fact that out of all the people, he was the one to help you on that rainy day. Even when it’s gloomy outside and the clouds cover every inch of the sun’s rays, Soonyoung still glows under the grey sky. Rain or shine, you want him no matter how good or bad the weather is.

Ⱄ a/n: if u want more of them please lmk hehe, and if u liked this story please leave a like or a reblog hehe it is very much appreciated :3 thank you ♡ p.s rain or shine is an actual ice cream shop in bc heheh

Ⱄ perm tag-list: @christinewithluv @todorokiskitten @peachescreamandcrumble @minwonfairy @oneandonlyluvv @ihrtmingyu @tigerhoshii @sleepzyy @luveveryonewoo @thepoopdokyeomtouched @chan-s-laptop @aksweet7 @leah-rose03 @woofie-nctzen-fanarts @gyuguys @crystal-rhyming @jenoxygen @hoshhhiiiii @babigriin @bouclesdefeu @mingyuecstacy @iluvseokmin @odevote118 @wonvsmile @suga-bitch @chickpea-jimin @lar3ine @bias-recs @hanniebub @iluvmingi @vapidlynn @aaniag @yogurttea @blurr3db3rry @lovejoshua @woozixo @drunk-on-dk @noiceoofed @angelfeverdream @leahhhher @hanniebwii @yuyunhoo @whowantshota @hannniiiiiehae @afslme @writingbarnes

[yujiqi]

hiii could you write a lil something fluffy about reader and hamzah living together and what starts as you stealing his clothes turns into you guys sharing basically everything (like he steals your satin pillowcase, you use his glasses, he tries out your skincare, etc.)??

(could be an established relationship or secretly-in-love roommates <3)

the perfect pair

bf!hamzah x f!reader

synopsis: you and hamzah have been living together for so long you even start to use each others stuff!

genre/s: fluff

warnings: none!

wc: 890

a/n: coming around to requests! i literally used all your examples because i genuinely couldn't think of things LOL this was lowkey short and idk if i fulfilled what u wanted but this ones so cute i love it thank u anon :D

you and hamzah moved in together about 6 months ago and you guys have gotten much more comfortable with each other since then. for the first month or two, you guys would always ask for permission before borrowing or wearing each others things, but you really can't say the same now.

"babe have you seen my camo hat?" you hear your boyfriends voice call from your shared closet.

"yes!" you say smiling as he walks out and towards you on the bed, staring at his camo hat sitting on your small head.

"look at you," he pats your head, "always taking my hats"

"it matches my pants, see" you laugh, jumping up to give him a hug. he reciprocates and presses a kiss to your forehead.

it's not even just clothes and accessories, sometimes it's the oddest things that you typically wouldn't share. you were finishing up your night routine and as you get in bed, you notice somethings missing. you turn over to hamzah laying on his side scrolling on his phone, his head laying on the pillow with your satin pillow case.

"hamzah" you rest your chin on his shoulder, catching a glimpse of the stupid tiktok he was watching.

"hm" he hums, engrossed.

"why do you have my pillow case?" he finally looks away from his phone to look at you, flashing a cheeky cmile.

"it makes my skin smoother! and look at my curls" you begin playing with his silky dark brown locks.

"they look so good baby, want me to buy you one?"

"no no then it won't smell like you" you only let out a chuckle, kissing his cheek.

"you're so cute"

whenever you study for exams, you have a hard time reading the font and to your surprise, hamzahs glasses have the perfect amount of prescription, so you wear them!

"ugh this is so stupid" you sigh, frustrated at the question you've been on for 30 minutes. you hear the front door opening and closing, meaning hamzah's home.

"hey girl, whatcha doin hm?" he comes behind your chair, kissing the top of your head.

"i'm studying for that business exam i told you 'bout"

"oh man, i wish i could help but i really don't know what i'm looking at right now" he begins massaging your shoulders, hoping to relieve some of your stress. "that feel good, angel?"

"so good," you sigh. "thank you baby but 'm gonna fall asleep, i gotta finish this"

"ok i'll leave you to it, i'm proud of you ma" he leans down to kiss your cheek but he pauses. "are you wearing my glasses?"

you smile up at him, kissing his plump lips. "yeah, needed them to see this tiny ass font"

"you look so studious, you're serving office siren i think is what it's called? but you look so sexy i'm actually having heart palpitations" he grasps his chest, heaving jokingly.

"i love you how you say things" you laugh, pressing another kiss to his lips.

hamzah occasionally gets little breakouts on his face, and to make matters worse, he doesn't even have a skincare routine. but you do. so when this happens, he just uses your skincare!

"how the hell does she use this?" hamzah questions as he fumbles with one of your serums.

"hamzah, you okay?" you enter the bathroom, your hamzah-senses tingling. "boy what are you doing?"

"my skin was doing bad and i was feeling a lil insecure" he sulks.

"should've told me love," you sit on the counter. "c'mere, lemme do this for you" he moves to stand between your legs and you take the serum from his large hands. "what have you done so far?"

"i put this thing on" he points at your toner, before placing his hands on your thighs.

"ok good, you were on the right track!" you open the serum and fill the applicator. "you press this at the top to get the serum in the dropper"

"ohhh i thought it was the squeezy ones"

"no, but i'm shocked you know that!" you smile approvingly at him, applying some serum on his cheeks and then his forehead and chin. you begin patting it into his skin with your fingers.

"i like when you touch my face, feels good" he looks at you with half lidded eyes.

"yeah?"

"mhm, can you do this more often?"

"of course, anything for you sweetheart" you kiss his nose, "now i'm just gonna use a moisturizer then we'll do sunscreen, okay?" he nods his head, inching his body closer to you. now his arms are wrapped loosely around your lower waist.

"hamzah you're too close! how am i gonna do this?" you giggle at his clingyness, applying the cream to his face that's just inches away from yours.

"see you're doing just fine" he gives you toothly a smile as you reach the last step.

"anddd we're done!" you fix a stray curl on his head before wrapping your arms around his neck so he can help you down.

"is the glow giving?" he says as he sucks his cheeks in.

"yes but don't do that"

"oh ok so you don't love me"

"boiii get the hell out of here" you playfully push his shoulder and chase him out of the bathroom.

it really is sharing is caring with you and hamzah.

[lovebugism]

AH HI!! so... i love the way you write ditzy!reader, and especially with steve idk it just warms my heart yk? The way they interact 😭 it's so lovely

Since I'm an angsty girly at heart, I thought about a situation where steve gets a teeny tiny bit frustrated with ditzy!reader, but it's just seconds, even less than that but it's enough to make her upset for making him upset but also a super fluffy moment between both of them and steve being mesmerized by her and just so much in love

ahh thank u lovie! pls enjoy!! — steve gets frustrated with his sensitive gf and makes up with her accordingly (hurt/comfort, established relationship, 2.7k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

You keep Steve company during the last half of his shift like you always do. 

He’s grumpier than usual, though — all pouty and visibly brooding. 

You plop yourself on the front counter of Family Video and ask him what’s wrong, and he tells you that the day’s been hell and he’s just tired. There is no “but I feel better now” like there usually is when he’s upset but doesn’t want you to think it’s your fault. 

The “because you’re here” is typically implied. 

Not so much now.

You’re having the complete opposite day of your sulking boyfriend. Yours had been dreadfully boring, or at least you say it had been, but you find a million different things to tell him. You’re too excited after having spent so many hours without him, like a dog with a wagging tail. You’ve got the zoomies of the mouth, if you could even call it that.

“—And then I saw the cutest dog on the way over here. His name was Cappy, and he was huge, and the owner was so nice. He even let me pet him, and he literally felt like a cloud— the dog, not the owner.”

Steve is used to this. The whole rambling about nothing thing. He loves it about you, actually. It took him ages to coax you out of that shell after your asshole ex told you that you talked too much, convinced you that no one cared about what you had to say.

You’re more comfortable now, and Steve loves that you are, but right now he just can’t concentrate.

Keith’s been on his ass about inventory all day, and he just learned how to do it on the old, bulky computer this morning — but only after Robin made him an hour late to his shift. Everything’s just too much now. He’s overwhelmed to the point of spontaneous combustion. 

For the first time ever, you’re not helping.

“—And, like, I know when we move into our apartment, we’re technically not allowed to have pets, but like… What about a fish? Or a turtle?” you wonder aloud but don’t stop to let him answer. Sitting on the edge of the counter, you kick your feet and flit your eyes to the spotted ceiling. “What if I start feeding the deer in the woods, and they just start showing up at our backdoor? ‘Cause technically—”

“Babe, please,” Steve snaps suddenly when your sneaker knocks his chair. He’s buzzing with anger, and even though it’s not because of you, he doesn’t know where else to put it.

Your eyes go wide at the newfound bite in his tone. He’s not shouting at you, but it makes your heart stop like he is. You feel like a kid again, getting scolded for being “too much.”

“…What?” you squeak.

Steve sighs. A deep, heavy sigh. It doesn’t remove the leaden weight from his chest, though. 

“I’m… I’m really trying to concentrate here, and you’re just— you’re making it really hard,” he tells you through gritted teeth, trying hard to keep his composure.

You deflate like a popped balloon. “Oh…”

He can hear the waver in your tone, the way your voice sounds wet with unshed tears. But he’s too overwhelmed — internally raging and selfish with it. His sweltering temper makes his woe feel more important than yours.

“Yeah, so… Can you just— go bother someone else for, like, five minutes?” he asks, fists clenched on either side of the clunky keyboard, his gaze concentrated on the pixelated screen. “Robin’s probably sulking in a corner somewhere. Go find her.”

Your face crumbles like a balled-up piece of paper. Your chest gets all tight, and your eyes start to burn when tears gather behind them.

You’d always been a flower of melodrama — blooming eternally and constantly sensitive. So when Steve cut you off as you fantasized about a family of deer living in the backyard of an apartment you were supposed to share together, it felt like a knife in your chest. 

The irrational thought that he no longer wanted any of that with you was fleeting and vivid and burning. Irrational, still.

But now you’re annoying him. He’s told you as much, with an unusual harshness he’s never spat at you before. And now your fears feel much more real.

“I’m bothering you?” you ask him, barely intelligible through the whimper in your throat.

Steve huffs again. His elbows thunk against the desk when he puts his head in his palms, swiping his fingers through his hair like he always does when he’s antsy. 

“I just really need to get this done,” he tells you, softer now. He makes himself mad all over again, though, and gets sharper once more. “I need to finish this before I get fired, and then we have no apartment to move into because we have no money, alright?”

There it is. The root of all his anger. A lingering feeling of inadequacy. 

He wants a life with you, but all he’s got is a measly Family Video salary — which he’s lucky to have apparently, because he can’t seem to do anything right. It stirs like a fire in the pit of his stomach.

After another deep breath, he finally turns to look up at you. His honey eyes are wet and stern. The chiseled edges of his features are sharp. Gently, he pleads. “I really need to work here, babe.”

You nod, understanding and internally weeping. “Okay. I’m— I’m sorry, I was just— I’ve been missing you all day, and I got too excited, I think,” you confess, wringing your clammy hands in your lap like a scolded child.

“Don’t apologize,” Steve says with a huff, leaning back against the squeaking swivel chair. It’s old and has lost all its cushion. His stiff back aches all the more. There’s no relief, to any of it. 

He sits back up again and puts his unsure hands back on the keyboard. “Just— Just go, okay? Let me finish this.”

He leaves little room for argument.

You wouldn’t, though, even if you wanted to. Which you do. You’re just not strong enough.

—————

Steve tells you to go, but you end up in the kiddie corner across the store. 

Mr. Rogers puts on a bright red cardigan and sings a tune that makes you feel like crying. You sit on the color-blocked carpet, surrounded by block toys, and clutch a stuffed bunny to your chest. You can’t tell if the vintage VHS is making the screen blurry or if it’s the tears gathering heavy at your waterline.

Robin walks by you, does a double-take, and immediately reports to Steve.

“What did you do?” she interrogates with narrowed eyes, strolling up to the counter with a cart full of tapes to put away.

The hearty tap, tap, taping of the keyboard fills the silence. 

Steve doesn’t look at her until he’s finished up the last of his work. Only when it’s fully and finally complete does his hardened gaze dart to her. “What are you talking about?”

“Your girlfriend. She’s upset.”

“What do you mean she’s upset?”

Robin rolls her eyes at his obliviousness. “I don’t know. She’s singing the Mister Roger’s theme song and, like, crying. It’s weird.”

Steve’s brows pinch. His heart does, too. “Crying?”

“Well— not crying, exactly. It’s this really weird blubbering thing.” She fails to explain it so she tries to imitate it. A sobbing, sniffling sort of noise. She fails at that, too. Her scrunched face goes back to normal. “Like that.”

Deadpanned, Steve nods. “Wow, Robin. That was really helpful. Thank you.”

“Just go comfort your girlfriend, dingus.”

Steve still thinks she’s joking. Robin doesn’t lie, but she does have a tendency to overemphasize the mundane. 

He goes to see you anyway, though, and doesn’t think twice about any of it — about what Robin said or what he had said to you before that.

He finds you in the kid’s section, in front of the tiny television, surrounded by brightly colored toys. He smiles at the sight of you, exhaling a sharp laugh through his nose.

“What are you doing all the way over here, huh?” he questions to announce his arrival, which you seemingly hadn’t noticed. “This area is usually for kids, ya know? Well, kids and Dustin Henderson.”

He doesn’t sound as annoyed with you anymore. You’re grateful for that much, but you still feel a bit sick about the whole thing.

Your nervous hands pick the cotton of the fuzzy bunny in your arms. You keep your gaze on the television in front of you, but you aren’t really watching it anymore. “I used to watch this stuff a lot growing up. The nostalgia sorta makes me wanna puke. But, like, in a good way.”

Steve scoffs. “Well, maybe we should turn it off then, ‘cause if I have to clean up vomit after the day I’ve had, I might actually go insane.”

He’s kidding. Mostly. The universe tends to be cruel like that, but he’d clean up all your messes a thousand times over if he had to.

He laughs at his own joke as he crouches to sit down next to you. He bends his knees, props his arms on top of them, and looks over at you. You don’t crack a smile for him, which is weird because you always laugh at his jokes. Even the ones that aren’t funny. Especially the ones that aren’t funny.

His smile ebbs to a wavering half-smirk as he knocks his shoulder with yours. “You okay?”

You think for a moment, jutting your lips out, unblinking at the television screen. “No,” you answer after a few seconds of silence. “But I’ll get over it. I think.”

Your honesty makes his heart wrench — like you’ve wrapped both your tiny hands around the beating organ and squeezed. It knocks the breath out of his lungs, a fish so ruthlessly pulled from the water. He tries to speak through the sudden lack of air. “Wh—What happened? Was it… Did I do something? Did you—”

“No,” you cut off his stammering with a firm shake of your head. “I did something.”

“Oh,” is all he says, pink lips pouting and wide eyes darting. “What does… What does that mean? Did you, like, step on a rogue VHS or something? ‘Cause I do that all the time, and technically, that’s Rob’s fault for leaving them out, so—”

You shake your head again, digging your nails into the delicate cotton of the well-loved stuffy in your arms. “No. I was just— I was botheringyou, and now I feel bad,” you confess, all quiet like a meek child who’s learning what it means to be sorry.

Steve — your oh, so oblivious one — goes aflame with embarrassment. He’d been too clouded by his own anger to recognize the venom spilling from his mouth; to understand that it would inevitably hurt you.

With chiseled features twisted in confusion, he shakes his head and stammers. “What? No! You weren’t— You weren’t bothering me!”

You turn to look at him, for the first time since he sat down beside you. Your eyes are glassy and swimming with hurt. You try to keep your trembling features stoic. You don’t want to seem as hurt by it all as you really are. 

You feel like you should, anyway. What right do you have to be sad when you were the one being a bother?

“You said I was,” you remind him, still soft but sterner now. “You told me to go bother someone else—”

“Oh, babe…” Steve says, deflating just as you had. 

He knows how sensitive you are, how deeply you feel things. You’re vulnerable, raw — it makes everything feel more personal than it really is. It makes grumpy jabs from your dumbass boyfriend hurt like a lemon on a weeping wound.

He tries to apologize, knowing that he hurt you and that it’s not up to him to decide that he didn’t. 

“I wasn’t… I didn’t mean to, babe,” he murmurs, swiping a tense hand through his hair and then gesticulating wildly with it. “I was just being a dick, you know? I’ve been super stressed all day and—”

“Don’t apologize. I was being annoying.”

Steve blinks at you with wide, wet eyes — like you’ve hurt him by talking so cruelly about yourself. 

“Baby, no. No,” he urges, ducking down to meet your gaze when you look away from him. “I’m just an idiot, okay? I put off inventory until the last second, and Keith’s been on my ass all day about it, and I just— I took that out on you, and that’s not fair, and I’m sorry.”

You shake your head, pursing your bitten lips to the side and twisting the long ear of the bunny between your fingers. “It’s not your fault, Steve…” you murmur, almost inaudibly.

He scoffs. It sounds like a bitter laugh. “Well, actually, it kinda is.”

“I just… I don’t really understand what’s going on sometimes. Or, like, a lot of the time,” you admit with a distracted gaze, eyes flitting everywhere but to the boy beside you. You’re too ashamed to look at him now. “And it’s harder for me to know when I’m talking too much, you know? Or if I’m being super annoying.”

“I know…” Steve nods, trying his best to be sympathetic of you. He loves how soft you are — too much to understand you completely. He loves how gently you treat the rest of the world, how unusually giddy you get in your gentleness. 

You swallow through a tightening throat and shrug to pretend your world doesn’t feel like it’s crumbling around you. “And I don’t care about annoying other people— well, I do, but it’s different with you, you know? Other people can’t break up with me for being too much.”

“The idiot that told you you were too much had exactly zero personality,” Steve tells you, mostly because he means it but also to see you smile. 

You do, just barely. A grin so soft only someone deathly in love with you could see. 

“You’re never annoying me, okay? Ever. I love hearing you talk. I love having you around.”

“Yeah?” you ask him, blinking back burning tears.

“Hell yeah! You’re, like, the best part of my day! The only good part of my day, now that I think about it.”

Biting back a grin, you tease, “Well, what about Robin?”

“Robin made me late today, so we’re kinda not friends right now.”

“That’s mean,” you scold despite the growing smile on your face.

Steve shrugs. “We’ll make up before I clock out. No big deal.”

You go suddenly shy, smiling sheepish and tilting your chin to your chest to peek at him through your lashes. “Are we gonna make up before you clock out?” you wonder quietly.

“Only if you’re willing to forgive me for being an insufferable douchebag,” Steve answers, only half-joking. He very seldomly feels worthy of your softness.

You look at him with it, anyway. 

Full on beaming now, you reach across the short distance to wrap him in a firm embrace. The position is only slightly awkward. Sitting side by side with your asses on the hard carpet, your arms wound tightly around his neck — a bit like a snake smothering its prey. 

Steve feels grateful to be held so ardently. 

His nose smushes into your neck. The sweet scent of your perfume entwines with the warm scent of your sweater. He smiles into your shoulder when it makes you giggle. You pull back from him then, just to steal a quick peck a moment later. Your lips smack audibly against his grin.

“Can we make out before you clock out?” you lilt with a shy smirk.

“…That is the single best idea I’ve heard all day.”

Your giggle fills the empty store when Steve rises suddenly and pulls you with him. He leads you toward the back, tugging you by the hand down the short corridor and rambling all the way. “Keith left for the day, so his office is empty, which means it’s fair game—”

“I am not making out with you in Keith’s office!”

“But his desk chair is crazy comfortable, and also, he’s a dick, so… who cares?”

[freyito]

hiii first of all i just love your drabbles 🫶🫶🫶 Can i request mk1 characters reactions when their partner is hurt? yk when they found out that their s/o is in the hospital or sth. You can write for whoever you want but I would love if you include Raiden, Johnny Cage, Kenshi and Syzoth in this ❤️❤️

✭ pairing(s): liu kang, bi-han [sub zero], kuai liang [scorpion], johnny cage, kenshi takahashi, kung lao, raiden, zeffeero [rain], tomas vrbada [smoke], baraka, syztoh [reptile], havik, general shao, shang tsung, reiko (seperate) x gn reader

✧ a/n: thank u smmmmmm anon!!! i hope this doesnt sound egotistical or anything, but i really cant get enough of people telling me they love my writing, it's really affirming and i will always appreciate it ! it's always like... woah.... really......

this is the perfect request, but i am gonna put my own little spin on this and make it pretty angsty, whoops :P super sorry this one took so long too.... ough i put my heart and soul into it. i hope i am not only tumblr user freyito to you, but an angst writer too... well most of these are angst. some are a little more fluffy and less dire... also just could not for the life of me figure out what to write for geras' so no geras in this one :(

🗒 cw: gn reader, certain character's deaths, gore/blood, depiction of death, angst, in some you are close to death, stitching without painkillers in havik's, kidnapping in shang tsung's/mention of kidnapping in rain's, not proofread

✎ wc: 6.3k

ᴛʜᴇ ᴋᴏᴍʙᴀᴛ ʙᴏʏꜱ + ᴀ ʜᴜʀᴛ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

⎯Liu Kang

Not much evokes emotion in him. He is a god, he must been even with his feelings, and any shift in the balance could set so many things wrong. On the battlefield, there is no room for failure. With you, he's always been relatively neutral, he makes sure you know he loves you, and he's gentle with you. Yet, he keeps a distance. Liu Kang harbors a fear deep down, that his actions, his status, will bring you to your end. He's a sought out target, after all.

So, when those fears come true, Liu Kang can't help but feel his rage consume him. To watch Shang Tsung's claws dig deep into you, festering, plaguing your own strength. Ripping into you, decorating his hands in your warm blood. Shang Tsung had done this because of Liu Kang, he was so sure. Flames engulfed him, near incinerating the foot soldier he had been fighting. He approaches Shang Tsung, as you lay at his feet, struggling to breathe. Unforgivable. To do this to his starlight, Liu Kang will not make this mans death slow and savory, no. Within an instant, he pushes Shang Tsung's head through his own body, splitting the man in half, as well. Death is too merciful, but alas, that is not important, now.

Once the initial wave of anger washes off, adrenaline and logic set in. Liu Kang picks you up, he treats you as if you're porcelain. Just barely, as you struggle to stay conscious, you can hear him assuring you it's okay. That nothing else will happen. It is unclear whether he is saying this to you, or himself. Regardless, he leaves the battlefield quickly. He knows his comrades can handle the rest. But knowing that he is so close to losing you, as you bleed out within his arms, it is haunting. Every second counts, and he knows it. He entrusts your care to the medics at the Wu Shi academy, as much as he trusts them, he cannot bring himself to leave your side. For hours, he is still covered in your blood. His eyes do not leave your face, resting and peaceful, even with death knocking on your door.

Liu Kang is there every step of the way. When you are in recovery, he makes sure to attend every session. He brings you books, something to keep you occupied on the days where you are stuck in bed. Regrettably, he can't enjoy a lot of alone time with you, because duty calls. He'd love nothing more than to spend every waking moment with you, but he still has stuff to attend to. However, when you are cleared to leave the academy, he keeps you close. Liu Kang is afraid it will happen, the image of you bloodied and ripped up still fresh in his mind. He's only a little protective, the thought of you going back into Kombat a little rattling. But he does not stop you. Because it makes him feel better knowing that you are back on your feet.

⎯ Bi-Han

As the grandmaster's partner, Bi-Han knows that you could be caught in danger. But he does not lament this. He does not celebrate it, either. He admires that you can fight, and he loves fighting by your side. He always looks out for you, of course he does. But he cannot be by your side in a large fight, he knows you can hold your own.

It is a sharp cry that draws his attention towards you. That is all he needs. Bi-Han prides himself on being an even and logical man, but the minute he sees A Tengu assassin's knife dug deep into your ribs, he snaps. Within an instant the battlefield grows colder, and the second you blink, the assassin already has his spine ripped out and shattered. A little bit of a flashy display for a man like him, but he wastes no time in bathing in the glory of his kill. He was lucky enough that the fight was nearing an end, the last of the Tengu clan that was sent out were either retreating or being taken care of.

Off you go to the medics of the Lin Kuei, and he insists you are priority. The one thing Bi-Han was unfair with was you, near fighting with the medics to tend to your wounds. Your blood paints his hands and upper torso, and he refuses to wash it off. Not until he knows that you have priority. When the medics relent, he finally disappears to wash off. He cannot stay by your side as much as he'd like, but he's not only restricted by his title, but his emotions. He takes a couple minutes outside, to calm down his own nerves. Bi-Han does not cry, but a few shaky breaths escape him as he tries to calm himself down. His mind races with every possible outcome, ultimately landing on the worst.

But, Bi-Han's thoughts do not come to fruition. The medics have worked their magic, and you are on the path to recovery. As much as he'd love to be with you, he cannot. But, he does send you a bunch of gifts. Letters, mainly. Small incentives for you to recover quickly, but he sends in flowers frequently, as well. The days he does visit you, he is a softer man. He's especially gentle with you around your ribs. He keeps a very close eye on you during missions once you are out of recovery. He doesn't mean to seem overbearing, but his position alone paints a big ol' target on your head. This attack was the first that brought that to his attention.

⎯ Kuai Liang

Fighting alongside a pyromancer is tricky, to say the least. There's a lot of variables to account for, and aside from that, Kuai Liang can't really keep an eye on you in certain instances. This was one of them, a rather messy battle, one where he couldn't keep track of you. Not that it mattered, he knew you were strong enough to hold your own.

However, it is a stray spark that leads you to stumble back. You flinch, which drives you back into the sword of the enemy.  When Kuai sees this… the world goes silent. Water stills, flame fizzle out, swords clash and the dull clang of steel against steel quiets. Only for the water to suddenly form a raging tide, the flames to burn brighter, and the steel fades against the sound of a brilliant flame. In your fading vision, you see your partner's kusarigama impale your attacker's jaw, and pull it clean off. It is a sight he will regret later.

When the battle is over and the medics have taken you away, all Kuai Liang finds himself doing is worry. Pacing constantly, he messes up the mission report and has to have Tomas or someone else from the Shirai Ryu. He can recount things normally without a hitch, but knowing that it was him and his own ‘reckless’ use of his pyromancy with you in such close proximity makes him trip over his words, and even his thoughts. With what little free time he has, he’s pacing outside your cot, frequently checking in on the medics and the progress, until they ultimately have to push him away. Which calms him down, somewhat.

When the medics assure him that everything is fine, and that you are on the path to recovery, he’s much more relieved. He’s a lot less tense, and he’s a lot more coherent. He’s able to compose himself. Granted, he tends to sneak off (when appropriate) to check on you. He really just loves talking with you afterwards, he doesn’t want to bring up any unpleasant memories or thoughts (particularly what you saw before you blacked out), but there will always be a point where you have to talk about it. He’ll also ramp up his affection. The entire ordeal (while he knew what would come with forming the Shirai Ryu) made him realize that maybe he takes you for granted. Kuai Liang has been surrounded by death, sure, but for some reason, when it comes to those he loves… it is hard to understand that life is fleeting.

⎯ Johnny Cage

Johnny is used to deaths and his partner being hurt… on screen. He’s so used to the dramatized version, where his stage partner dies in his arms, and he wails real loud. He’s blissfully unaware that it could, in fact, happen to you in real life. He likes to think of himself as a great source of protection, believes no harm will come your way, not when you’ve got just a big, strong, handsome hunk around. And one of Earthrealm’s Defenders. As much as he’s grown, he still needs to learn a few lessons from the world.

And he’s in for a reality check. There are some unsavory characters out there, ones that aren’t too happy about his status as a whole. All he gets is a call from the hospital and a nice little greeting from officers. The only things he can make out in his newfound panic is ‘attempted murder’, and he’s REELING. He wasn’t there, he reminds himself. He doesn’t know what went down. Officers are still trying to figure it out. In his hazy and reckless state, he goes to his best friend.

Kenshi helps ease his nerves, and gives him a couple of LOGICAL ideas. Considering Shang Tsung had wormed his way into Kenshi’s life to steal Sento (and ultimately got his ass beat), he brings it up. Which leads to a whole meeting with Liu Kang, Raiden, and Kung Lao. To discuss the possible threats, and the future. Johnny cannot sit still that meeting, he’s practically bouncing off the walls, asking what this means for you. Every single question is about you, and you alone. Liu Kang dismisses him, and he practically speeds off to the hospital.

Johnny relaxes when he’s able to finally enter your room,– after a lot of arguing with the doctors about visiting hours– but his mind still spins. How could he let this slide? He should’ve been there, right? Regardless of how much blame he puts on himself, (which it was never his fault to begin with) he’s sat by your bed, sulking. From the police report, it’s clear that it was AT LEAST linked to Shang Tsung, but that’s no longer his problem. He gets you anything from the cafeteria if you ask, and he brings you flowers every. damn. day. He’s got so many gifts coming your way, that when you get discharged, you’re practically smothered by all the gifts he got you as an ‘apology’. When you ask him what he means by an apology, he doesn’t say a single word. Johnny’s very on top of your medication, he’s soooo very delicate with you, he almost condemns you to bedrest. But with enough pushback, you’re able to be up and about; but that doesn’t mean he won’t be worrying over you for quite a while. Even if Liu Kang assures him that it won’t happen again.

⎯ Kenshi Takahashi

Kenshi is aware of the danger that surrounds him and his existence in general. He’s protective of you, of course. And he knows full well that you could be swept up into the mix of the Yakuza, and his work with Liu Kang and the OIA. But, you yourself had fought hard for the relationship and made it clear that you could care less about the potential dangers; even if he felt a little frazzled at all the dangers out there. All the hands that could be grabbing at you, the guns, the knives, the weapons that would be pointed at you the minute you were spotted next to him. You didn’t care.

Yet, when he gets the call that you were involved in some crime, landing you in the hospital, his mind omits all the other details. Aside from the hospital you’re at. He even skips over the fact that it was Jax calling him. Part of him wants to cry. And he probably would, if he could. But he tries to keep himself composed. Whatever he’s been occupied with is now a distant memory, other agents can take over. As calm as he looks on the outside, there’s a war raging within him. He knew this would happen. Ever since he felt feelings for you, he knew.

When he finds you at the hospital, Sento left behind, he’s scared. He doesn’t know if he should be grateful that he can’t see you, or if he should lament over it. While the doctors had described your injuries as non-fatal, and that you’d recover in no time, Kenshi’s mind has already spun a horrifying image, but once the doctors have left, he can hear your soft breathing underneath all the bustle of the machines. And it soothes him. Only then does he find some peace of mind, you are safe, and the danger has passed. Somewhat. When his worry starts to dissipate, he remembers that Jax had actually called him first, not the hospital. When he calls Jax back, the first thing he says is that he’s taking time off, and Jax doesn’t protest. They discuss what happened and that it is now a government matter, and something that expands past OIA boundaries. The short version of the conversation is that someone from a different timeline had managed to worm their way into this one, and harm you. Someone with striking similarity to himself. 

Now that Kenshi has calmed down and knows you’re safe, he understands why the nurses and the law enforcement seemed tense around him. It unnerves him, to say the least. That another version of himself would hurt you. His heart, his guiding light. It’s also an entirely new threat that he hadn’t accounted for. Once discharged from the hospital, you have all of his attention. He’s oh so gentle with you, like any little touch and you’ll crack. He does every chore around the house for weeks, until you’ve fully healed. He cooks a lot (with the help of Sento), even bathes you (despite your protests). It’s his way of an apology for what happened, and not just that, but an apology for being with him. He holds immense regret over this, knowing that– even if it was another him from another timeline– he did this.

⎯ Kung Lao

Kung Lao is… protective, alright. And that often gets swept up within his cockiness. Of course, you do feel pretty safe with him. Maybe not around the hat, but you do feel safe around him. Aside from his interesting choice of weapon, he’s a great martial artist. And also just someone who’s really nice to cuddle with. He’s a Shaolin Master, of course he’s going to be a horrifying opponent.

And, there would be hell to pay if anyone hurt his love. He isn’t just all bark. Even the thought of you being hurt has him seething, he tends to overthink. There’s a lot of things that have made him realize that he may be a high value target– even if he can’t help but think he’s done nothing to get to that point. But, under Liu Kang, and just the title ‘Defender of Earthrealm’, there’s some sort of pride that lingers. Something that makes him want to challenge anyone and everyone he can, tell them to ‘bring it on’.

But not at the expense of you. The one thing bigger than his ego? His heart. So, when you stride into Wu Shi Academy,– though, limp is the better term– all cut up and bruised, barely able to speak or see, there’s a rage that burns within Lao. One that even Raiden hasn’t seen. He can’t help but run his mouth about how he’ll teach whoever the hell got to you a lesson. But he’s also despondent, he barely touches his food, he barely shows up to Madame Bo’s… and that makes her worried, until she learns about what happened to you from Raiden. Now not only does the culprit have a bastard with a really sharp hat after them, but the most badass little old lady after them, too. Madame Bo loves you like one of her own, really. She dotes on you, where she’ll normally scold the boys. You are her golden child.

Ultimately, their shared hunt leads to a dead end. Your mind is too hazy to remember anything aside from a silhouette, before getting beaten senseless. As much as Lao seems hellbent on tracking the culprit down, he ultimately gives up when you ask him. But, as you recover, he seems to be in much better spirits. He likes to curl up next to you at night (despite the monks telling him not to), just to reassure him that you’re safe. And Madame Bo arguably puts on more of a show than Lao does. She treats you with free food every day of your recovery, and when you’ve got clearance to be walking around without supervision again, she’s made a FEAST for you. While it feels all sunshine and rainbows once you’ve recovered, Kung Lao works tirelessly to get better. He blames himself, mainly for the fact that no matter what he did, he couldn’t find the one who did this to you. Even if you tell him outright that it is okay. It’s another mark on his list of failures, to him.

⎯ Raiden

When he got the amulet, Raiden didn’t exactly have it down. It took a great deal of focus and strength to hone it, more than he’s known. Sure, there have been some points where it feels like he’s got it down, like he can actually control the lightning. But before the tournament, he had a hard time controlling it, and spent many days doing his best to hone this new power. It was exhausting, and took a toll on him, both physically and mentally. He might have been trained nearly his whole life in martial arts, but that doesn’t necessarily correlate to any sort of magic.

However, it is his connections that ground him. Kung Lao, yes. But you, mainly. Normally, his training sessions with the amulet consist of him trying not to fry Lao, while you sit by and encourage him. A positive environment encourages progress, right? That’s what Raiden thinks, anyway. And all things considered, he’s doing well today. The lightning had been easily tamed, Lao hadn’t been zapped, and all was well.

While training with a staff, however, one wrong move sends a strike horrifyingly close to you. You barely register what happened, the loud bang by your right is followed by a popping feeling, like you’ve been in high altitude, a sharp pain through your eardrum, and then a dull ringing in your right ear. Raiden comes running up to you near immediately, checking over you. Your mind spins at how fast things happened, so you can’t necessarily explain clearly to him what you felt. Before you can collect yourself, Raiden is suddenly set on high-alert, and hauling you away to the medics at Wu Shi. Even Lao is a little confused as he follows after the two of you.

At the medics, you’re able to piece everything together. Ruptured eardrum, and Raiden can’t help but blame himself for it. When you’re getting checked over, Raiden is pacing outside, and Lao is trying desperately to calm him down. It had been a fear of his since the very start of his training. But as time went on and you went unharmed… it started to slip into the back of his mind. He feels horrible for letting go of that worry, for letting it happen. And when the medics let you go and tell you that it’ll heal in a couple weeks, you do your best to comfort him next to Lao. When it’s just you two, however, Raiden is a lot more calm. The adrenaline of the moment got to him earlier. Still, all he feels he can do is apologize, as much as you assure him it’s fine. Over the next couple of weeks, he’s very, very mindful of himself. He’s practically banned you from his training sessions, he makes sure to approach you from your left side or make his presence known if he’s coming up from behind you.

⎯ Zeffeero

There’s not much Rain has to worry about in his day-to-day life, even with his status as High Mage. He knows his title holds weight, but he believes that if he spends all his time worrying, something will happen sooner or later, and he’ll be more of a mess if it comes true. He’s more worried about his actual duties, coming home to you (almost) every night, and what books he will read on his days off.

That being said, he isn’t able to spend all his time with you. Which is a bummer, really. His job isn’t necessarily ‘remote’. He doesn’t worry over you too much, he knows you’re strong enough to cover for yourself. And those who are against him and the royalty should be smarter and focus their attention towards him and Sindel. Keyword, should.

So, when Zeffeero is met by the couriers during his duties, he’s confused. The only words he can make out in their frantic speech is your name, and hostage. Which snaps him out of his normally calm demeanor. But, regardless, he does his best to stay collected. He gets the couriers to explain the situation clearly, that Sindel’s detractors had chosen you out of all people to make an example. The good news is that it was dealt with just as quickly as you had been taken away, criminals don’t really get their way so easily in Sun Do, especially.

But that doesn’t mean they didn’t do a number on you. Rain immediately puts his work to the side and meets you at the infirmary. You’re pretty beat up, a couple bruises on your arms and a gash on your forehead, and the medics inform him that you’ll need to stay here for at least another week, you’ve gotten a couple of bruised ribs, as well. For the next couple of days, he is by your bedside, perfectly on time when the medics open up visiting hours. He’ll even do his work by your side, filling countless journals and going through way too many reports as he does.

⎯ Tomas Vrbada

Stealth missions require the utmost focus, especially ones of this caliber. Tomas is confident in your ability, so he doesn’t worry unnecessarily over you. But his mind can tend to wander sometimes. Still, he does his best to remain on track, stalking through the rampart. It was a simple recon mission, keep an eye on the territory. It had been left abandoned after the events of Armageddon, but there had been indications that Bi-Han was looking to start something there again. Considering the cyberization of the Lin Kuei, Kuai Liang and Tomas agreed to simply check it out, make sure nothing was being done.

And they were right to be suspicious. Either out of paranoia, or a hunch, Bi-Han had sent scouts as well. This makes the operation a lot more high-risk, both parties may be aware of each other, but have no idea where the other is. It looks as if there’s a rather hefty amount of spies in the rampart as well. As Tomas stalks through the tops of the wall, searching for anything slightly out of place, he gets the sudden feeling that he’s being watched.

Just as he raises his head, he hears the thwip of a bow string, causing him to jerk away from his position. An arrow flies past his head, a few centimeters from it, and as he follows it’s trajectory, he sees you, across the rampart. Fighting with two ninjas, doing your best to, well, stay alive. Realizing that you two are horribly outnumbered, he completely ignores the archer behind him. Utilizing his practical magic, he wastes no time disappearing and taking off. It’s not as easy as it sounds, practically throwing himself off the wall and doing what he can to make it across the rampart. As adrenaline rushes through him, his actions are near mindless, reckless, jumping over stray ballistas and rubble.  Does he know that this could put his life at risk? That it puts the mission at risk? Yes. But there’s a tiny voice inside of him that screams at him, tells him you are much more important than the mission. He got the intel anyways.

Things blur together for Tomas after that. He can’t remember exactly how he reached you, he can’t remember what he did with the two ninjas, the only thing that brings him back to the present moment is the pained breaths of yours and heaved gasps. He’d been singing some lullaby that he couldn’t remember the name of, his voice cracking here and there. His throat is raw, blood pouring from a head wound, and he can’t tell if the blood coating his arms is from you, who lay motionless (but thankfully breathing) in his arms, the ninjas, or his own. He’s barely noticed that he’s made his way to Harumi’s house. Not to Kuai Liang– to Harumi. Which, eventually, the knowledge that you’ve been hurt and that the Lin Kuei are pushing to claim territory over the Rampart. When Harumi guides the two of you to a room while she calls for the medics, all Tomas can do is blame himself. He’s spaced out the entire time, the only thing that snaps him out of his catatonic state is when they try to separate the two of you. He doesn’t let them. He doesn’t let anyone separate you from him. He’s too scared that he will lose you.

⎯ Baraka

While the restrictions on those inflicted with Tarkat have been lifted slightly, there is still some public animosity towards Tarkattens. And some of those people tend to direct their anger at those who support this decision, or those close to those afflicted with Tarkat. And unfortunately, you just so happen to be one of those people.

You aren’t entirely vocal about your relationship with Baraka, but you aren’t entirely quiet about it, either. The only reason Baraka doesn’t talk about you two is because he is afraid of what could happen to you. It doesn’t matter if the public’s opinion will turn, if there will ever be a cure, he has always been distant. He loves you, and good god, he’d do anything to even hold your hand. But he is afraid. He can’t help but be afraid of what will happen to you.

And rightfully so, when you are visiting Sun Do with Baraka. It’s a routine visit, to talk about how to integrate precautions for those with Tarkat, and how the vaccine progress is coming along. It feels like hours in a stuffy room, talking with Mileena. Eventually, you step out for a moment, to get some fresh air, and to clear your head. Unfortunately, one of the people against the aid for Tarkattens takes this as an opportunity to attack you in broad daylight.

Luckily, you don’t have to suffer much. A couple of kicks and hits that have left a couple of bruises, but the Constabulary was able to pull them off you quickly. The commotion brings Mileena and Baraka out, which leaves you feeling a little flustered. Needless to say, the talks for that day are cut short, and Baraka spends his time worrying about you. He asks you to stay in Sun Do for a while, that he can handle the talks himself now.

⎯ Syzoth

Syzoth’s biggest fear is Shang Tsung. Even after all is said and done, the fear still lingers. With his past, he can’t help but worry, especially about you. He wants to imagine a future with you, and he’s more than content with the days you two spend together, but he will never be able to shake the idea of his happiness being ripped from him again. While he is still all cuddly with you, there is something always gnawing at him. An eternal dread.

And his fears come true, in some way. He had to leave home for a couple of days, out on official business. It was nothing major, nothing that would pull him from you for longer than a week. Integrating yourself along with Zatterans was a challenge alright, something you didn’t mind facing. Syzoth had said it was a good way to get them used to humans, to earthrealmers.

However, when he comes back home, he is greeted by you, with a black eye, and multiple, bandaged, gashes down your arms. You smile at him warmly, despite your injuries, which have had at least two days to heal. He’s stunned, and after a moment of silence, he’s all over you, asking question after question. Despite what he asks, he knows what the Zatterans have done to you.

He tells himself he should’ve known, as they had killed those with his mutation, he should’ve known that they would’ve treated you the same. You can’t give him exact details, you can’t even give him a description. It happened all too fast, and you were helpless in the moment. He spends the next week by your side, never leaving, unless it was for food, or necessities. When you two are out, he’s very diligent about his surroundings, and those around them. Most of the Zaterrans express their apologies to you, even if it wasn’t them, which makes Syzoth even more wary about who he should be keeping an eye on.  

⎯ Havik

Danger comes with the territory of dating Havik. Yeah, he keeps you close, but he’s wanted. And he’s well aware, he tends to get himself in fights quite often. If you wanna participate? Hells yeah, he’s all in. But if you’d rather sit back, hide away, anything like that, he doesn’t mind. Even if he prefers a more active partner on the battlefield. Just because he’s got his anarchic ways and enjoys a little bloodbath every now and then, doesn’t mean he’s thrown care and (at least) sympathy into the wind. Granted, it’s hard to coax that reaction out of him.

But, it’s different with you. His heart; quite literally. He’d do anything for you, he’s (almost) as obedient as a dog. But when he gets to watch you in kombat… it’s a treat. He’s like actually drooling. He’s got a twisted sort of smile on his face when you slash through enemies. Sometimes just the thought of it makes him blush. He’s a little fucked up, actually! But for a being who thrives on chaos, that’s the norm.

When it comes to you being injured, if it’s just a little nick, (which is categorized very loosely; can be deep cuts, slashes, not just a scrape) he doesn’t find any reason to retaliate against your assailant. Havik is proud to have a lover that can take care of things themselves, but that doesn’t mean he won’t leap at the chance to tear someone limb from limb. Especially if you’re wounded near fatally. That’s when any semblance of humanity leaves him. He’s brutal, horribly so, and for once, you have to turn your head away.

When the fight’s done, Havik returns to you, covered in blood and viscera. He made it quick, as much as he would’ve enjoyed making it slow and painful, he knows that time is of the essence. Given his situation, he can’t really take you anywhere. So a little impromptu ‘healing’ session is underway. Some alcohol (that’s 100% not stolen) and some pressure to make sure the bleeding stops and that you don’t get an infection. After, he’s got to stitch up the wound. As he does so, he’s murmuring praises,– a rare thing from him, really– doing his best to make this as painless as possible.

⎯ General Shao

There is no greater place than the battlefield to Shao. It is something he grew up on, and to be fighting side by side with his beloved, it fills him with pride. Of course, he knows the dangers, he knows there’s a target on his back, but he could care less. He almost revels in it. Yes, he’ll worry about you, but he also knows that you can handle yourself.

But that doesn’t mean he isn’t above teaching those who choose to hurt you a lesson. He’s sensible, he’s strong, and he’s just a little, teensy weensy bit protective of you. Of course, you can handle fights on your own. But it’s when the enemies got you in a tough spot, managed to daze you, anything like that. That’s when Shao lets hell break loose.

A sword pierces through your arm, and while it’s not fatal, the minute Shao sees it, he’s raging. A bloody warpath follows him as he marches towards the assailant, the opponent he had been fighting long forgotten. He can’t gloss over an injury like that, he is unsure if they had cut through the brachial artery. So he makes it quick, practically splitting them in two as you watch. The battle continues to rage on, but all Shao can do is huff and encourage you to make an escape,– mainly because he’s afraid you might bleed to death– even if you don’t want to.

At the end of it all, you oblige, retreating and making it to the field medics. You are glad to hear that they did not cut through your brachial artery, and that you won’t bleed to death. But the gash in your arm still needs treatment. You’re stuck in that tent for quite a bit, mourning the loss of a good fight. That is, until Shao interrupts. He’s barely pulled back the tarp of the entrance, and he’s already looking for you. And when he spots you, lying down with a defeated look, bored as hell, he’s at your side within an instant. He needs to know the damage, if it’ll take you out of combat, etc etc. He quietly worries over you, which is quite charming in its own way.

⎯ Shang Tsung

Shang Tsung is no pushover. He may be despised, he may have been outcast, but that doesn’t mean he’ll stand there and take it. Especially when it comes to you. He’s a bit of a drama queen, sure, but he’s charming. Even after everything, it seems like people won’t forgive him. They aren’t wrong to leave him unforgiven, either.

But, their anger should be pointed towards him. So when he receives a letter for ransom via courier, he’s rightfully pissed. How dare they take his sunshine away from him, all because of what he’s done. What he’s done. And to try and rip him off, as well. You aren’t worth a mere 50,000 koins! You’re worth at least 5mil! Needless to say, he’s fuming.

What’s he going to do? Ask the Constabulary to help? No! He’s more than capable of handling it himself. A little dirt on his hands never hurt anybody. Time is short, so he rushes over the details. A couple sleepless nights spent scouting, collecting any sort of information, and he’s off to a shabby little shack in the wastes. The audacity of these people to not only take you from him, demand 50k koins, but also keep you in some run-down place! As much as he’s nitpicking what they’ve done to you, he’s doing it to calm himself down. Yeah, he’s got this in the bag, but any one taking his love from him, especially with malicious intent, makes him scarier than his most evil counterparts.

It is there where Shang Tsung finds out the kidnappers haven’t necessarily… prepared. Only two captors, and they’re dealt with easily. Torn into like meat, left to rot. He disregards their state, food for the vultures and whichever desperate soul wanders past. You’re a mess, head down, mind hazy, legs weak. He treats you like a knight saving his darling, picking you up bridal style. He coos at you, whispering things like ‘you’re alright’, and ‘I’m here now’ as he takes you away.

⎯ Reiko

It’s a calm evening, paired with a little sparring. As Reiko watches you train an over-ambitious rookie, he seems lost in thought. Why? It’s unsure. It feels like he’s simply lost his grip lately, he feels that he hasn’t been doing well in combat, and has actually regressed with his progress. Seeing you humble the soldier over and over again somehow reminds him of this, telling himself he needs to catch up on his training, build on his weaknesses.

It’s a subtle snap that brings him back to reality. It seems the trainee had enough of your teaching, and didn’t quite enjoy the lessons you were drilling– punching– into them. They’ve managed to pin you down, thanks to a very direct, very heated punch to the face. They’ve got you in a headlock, spouting nonsense at you like you’ve greatly offended them. You groan, so close to yelling out uncle. But, you’ve gotta admit, you like their fire. Even if it severely clouds their judgment.

Reiko is quick to pull them off of you, grabbing them by the nape as if they were a dog. It’s a little bit of a struggle, mainly the trainee squirming and protesting like a child who’s been denied candy. It’s shameful for him, but the very thought of the runt taking advantage of the moment to hurt you makes him believe they are unbefitting of a soldier. And it makes him a little pissed. He’s lecturing them, doing his best to hold back some very choice words. All the while you’re nursing your possibly broken nose, trying to get Reiko to let up on them. Eventually, you just shoo them away, and then give Reiko his own lecture. They’re your student, so they’ll get your discipline.

He’s not the best at consoling you, especially over something that he’s deemed ‘minor’. A quick ‘are you okay?’ and a nod is all he really gives you. But, after you’ve ended the training session early, and confirmed that your nose isn’t broken, Reiko picks up the opportunity to hone in his skills. Given the fact that you still had time left in your schedule, you take up his offer.

© freyito, 2024 | masterlist | queue | kofi | star header by roseschoices

DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[creamflix]

HI KASHI <33 hope you’re having a great day !! saw your requests are open so i’m here asking if you could write gojo and/or choso trying to take care of a sick fem!reader take your time ofc !! love you and your writing so much <33

content: established relationship with gojo & choso (seperate), no reader gender specified, reader is sick, fluff and crack thank u for the request ml. i was having a really tough day and writing this made me feel a whole lot better. hope you enjoy <3 — general masterlist ☆

when in doubt, mochi it out.

a slogan that makes no sense, but when it comes to your boyfriend, SATORU, nothing ever truly does. he is nothing if not persistent, committed to his very questionable ways of taking care of you. you're curled up on the couch, sniffling into your third tissue of the hour, bundled up in enough blankets to resemble a very grumpy burrito.

“mochi makes everything better,” he declares, brandishing the tray of snacks like it's a miracle cure. “don’t fight it. just let the healing power of dessert take over.”

you stare at him, eyes glassy from your cold. “it’s sugar and rice, toru. sugar. i’m pretty sure that’s the opposite of medicine.”

“ah ah ah, but you underestimate the psychological benefits,” he counters, shoving a fluffy piece of mochi dangerously close to your face. “studies show happiness boosts the immune system, and you can’t tell me you’re not happy when you see me. c'mooonnn. smile for the genius doctor.”

“you’re not a doctor.”

“not officially. but emotionally? i’ve got my phd in loving you.”

you groan, sinking further into your cocoon. “that doesn’t even —”

“ah-ah! don’t strain yourself, sweetheart,” he interrupts, pressing a finger to your lips with all the drama of a soap opera actor. “you need your energy to chew this delicious, healing mochi.”

you cough pointedly, aiming it at him. he doesn’t flinch.

“cute,” he grins. “see? that’s already a 5% improvement. now, let’s move on to phase two of my revolutionary treatment plan: satoru’s patented personal heater.”

before you can protest, he’s wedging himself onto the couch beside you, all long limbs and ridiculous confidence. he wraps himself around you like a clingy octopus, radiating an absurd amount of heat. it would be sweet if he wasn’t crushing you under his weight.

“satoru,” you wheeze, “i can’t breathe.”

“that’s the illness talking. it’s fine. i’m a doctor, remember?”

you somehow manage to elbow him in the ribs, and he laughs, pulling back just enough to give you some air. “okay, okay. personal heater mode: adjusted.”

he adjusts the blanket around you, tucking it in like you’re a patient in some bizarre spa. “better?”

you nod grudgingly, but the relief doesn’t last. he’s back to poking and prodding at you almost immediately.

“you know, this could’ve all been avoided if you wore my scarf last week,” he muses, squinting at you like a disappointed parent. “but noooo, ‘i don’t need it, toru, it’s not that cold.’ and now look at you. tragic.”

“you sound like nanami,” you mutter, voice muffled by your blanket fortress.

he gasps like you’ve mortally wounded him. “take that back. i’m fun. i brought snacks!”

“i don’t want snacks, i want soup.”

“soup's for the weak. mochi's for winners.”

you groan again, though you can’t entirely suppress the smile tugging at your lips. satoru catches it immediately, of course.

“ah, see? the mochi's working! admit it, i’m the best boyfriend ever.”

“you’re insufferable,” you mumble, but the affection in your voice is impossible to hide.

“that’s just the fever talking.” he boops your nose with one of the little mochi pieces before popping it into his mouth, looking far too pleased with himself.

he leans back, pulling you closer against him. “you know, they say laughter is the best medicine. so technicallyyy, i’m already curing you.”

“does that mean you’ll stop with the jokes?”

“never. but i will feed you the cough syrup if you ask nicely. i might even do the airplane noise if you’re extra sweet.”

you throw another tissue at his face. he dodges it with a laugh, catching it mid-air.

“you loooovvve me,” he sing-songs, wrapping his arms around you again.

you sigh, leaning into him despite yourself. “unfortunately.”

“and that’s why you’ll live to see another day,” he grins, pressing a kiss to your temple. “now, how about i grab some soup and mochi? compromise is key, after all.”

CHOSO genuinely looks like he’s seen a ghost, which is almost ironic because you’re the one that feels like death warmed over. his wide eyes are glued to your flushed face, and it’s clear that his brain is short-circuiting.

“are you... okay?” he asks, voice just above a whisper, like raising it might make you crumble into dust.

“it’s just a cold, cho,” you rasp, reaching out to reassure him. but he takes an immediate, panicked step back, hands flying up in surrender.

“yuuji said humans are fragile when they’re sick,” he mutters, gaze flickering nervously between you and the floor. “and you look...fragile.”

“i’m not going to break.”

“but what if you do?” he blurts, voice cracking slightly, and you can’t help but blink at him in disbelief. choso isn’t usually one to panic, but apparently, the idea of you being sick has completely thrown him off balance.

when you ask for medicine, he darts away like a frightened deer and returns seconds later with a blister pack and a bottle of water. he leaves them on the coffee table before retreating again, this time halfway across the room.

“choooo,” you groan, flopping onto the couch. “you’re making it weird.”

“i’m not trying to,” he mumbles, standing stiffly like he’s trying to work out the math of the optimal distance to keep from you. “is this... far enough?”

“you’re acting like i’m contagious.”

“are you not?”

“you’re half a curse! pretty sure you’re immune!” you glare at him weakly. “you won’t catch my cold. i just want you to sit with me. please.”

his brow furrows, and you can practically see the gears turning. the logical part of him is probably agreeing with you, but the overprotective boyfriend part — the part yuuji apparently filled with all kinds of advice — looks terrified.

“...okay,” he says at last, hesitantly moving toward you like he’s approaching a sleeping bear. “but if you start looking worse, i’m calling yuuji.”

you laugh, but it quickly turns into a coughing fit. immediately, choso panics again. “do you need something? tea? soup? a doctor? i can go get someone —”

“cho,” you wheeze, waving him down. “soup sounds nice. just grab it from the kitchen.”

he’s off like a shot, and you can hear him fumbling around in the kitchen for a while before he reappears, carefully balancing a steaming bowl. this time, he doesn’t put it down and bolt. instead, he sits down next to you, though he still leaves a noticeable gap.

“do you want me to... feed it to you?” he asks awkwardly, holding the spoon like it might bite him.

you bite back a grin. “’s okay, cho. i can manage.”

he looks relieved but still watches you like a hawk as you eat, ready to spring into action at the slightest sign of distress. and honestly? it’s kinda sweet. sure, he’s overthinking everything, but his concern is endearing.

“thanks for taking care of me,” you say softly, leaning against him once you’ve finished. he stiffens for a moment but doesn’t pull away, letting you rest your head on his shoulder.

“yuuji said that’s what you’re supposed to do for the people you care about,” he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper.

“he also probably didn’t tell you to act like i’m radioactive.”

“...no.”

you chuckle, feeling a little better already.

produced by creamflix on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not copy, steal, modify, repost — support your writers by liking and reblogging. ♡ banners by cafekitsune

[diamonddaze01]

love you the mostest

pairing: ljh x reader genre: fluffy fluffy fluffy | wc: 2.2k warnings: none | rating: pg a/n: my love letter to lee jihoon - happy birthday <3 // also big thanks to @chanranghaeys for convincing me to write this all as one big fic i love u muah

summary: happy birthday, jihoon.

The room was still dark, save for the faintest sliver of light peeking through the edges of the curtains, hinting at the dawn breaking outside. The soft hum of the early morning and the rhythmic rise and fall of Jihoon’s breath were the only sounds, a quiet lullaby of intimacy.

You had woken up long before your alarm, the quiet stirrings of the city pulling you from sleep. Jihoon’s schedule was packed today, like it always was, and you wanted to steal this moment—when the world was still asleep and his mind hadn't yet been claimed by the chaos. He was so calm in the mornings, his body relaxed and at peace, the stillness of sleep wrapping around him like a comforting blanket.

You shifted slightly under the covers, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, inviting you to stay close. His hand found yours, fingers threading together almost instinctively, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. His exhale tickled your skin as he pulled you in, his face burrowing into the crook of your neck. The familiar weight of him settled against you, grounding you in the moment.

You pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, your lips lingering there for just a beat longer than usual. Pulling back, you brushed a strand of hair away from his face, his eyes barely open, still clouded with sleep. He blinked up at you, his hand tightening around yours as though to ensure you were real, his lips curving into a soft smile.

"Mm... so early," he mumbled, his voice thick with the remnants of sleep, his breath warm against your skin.

"Sorry, Hoonie," you whispered, squeezing his hand gently. "I couldn’t wait to tell you."

He stirred just a little, his arms pulling you closer, his lips grazing your jawline, a barely audible sound escaping his lips. "Tell me what?"

You grinned at how endearing he looked, his sleepy smile making your heart flutter. "Happy birthday," you whispered, your words soft but full of warmth, just for him, in the quiet stillness of the room.

His eyes fluttered open fully now, the remnants of sleep still clinging to him, and for a moment, it seemed like he didn’t quite understand. Then, a soft, surprised smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and his voice, still rough from sleep, was filled with warmth. "It’s too early for that, you know?"

You laughed softly, your fingers threading through his messy hair. "I know. But I wanted to be the first to wish you."

His arms tightened around you, pulling you in closer, his lips brushing against your neck once more as he sighed. "You’re always the first," he whispered, his voice barely audible, "And the best part of my day, too."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you could feel the sincerity in his words, even through the haze of sleep. The morning light, gentle now, cast a soft glow on his face, making him look even more angelic than usual.

"I’m glad," you murmured, your voice full of affection as you tightened your embrace. "You deserve everything, Jihoon. I hope this year brings you all the happiness you deserve."

He sighed contentedly, his eyes slipping shut, the exhaustion of his day lingering in the way he held you close. But then, his lips brushed your cheek, a soft kiss that lingered just long enough to make your heart beat a little faster. It wasn’t rushed or demanding—just gentle, an invitation to stay in this moment with him.

You didn’t pull away. Instead, you leaned into the kiss, closing your eyes as his lips hovered near your skin, warm and tender. A moment passed, and his mouth brushed the corner of your lips, so faint it almost felt like a dream. The kiss was lazy and slow, drawn out, as though he was savoring the sensation of being close to you.

His hand found its way to your arm, his fingers tracing up your skin with a light touch, sending a shiver down your spine. He tugged you in closer, his body pressing against yours, and the weight of him was both heavy and comforting. The space between you disappeared, leaving only the soft press of his lips and the gentle rhythm of your breath.

"Too far away," he murmured, his voice low and still thick with sleep, as if waking to the reality of the moment. His lips found yours again, this time with more intention, the kiss deepening as if he couldn’t quite pull away. It was slow, not desperate, but full of the kind of closeness that only two people who had shared so many quiet mornings could understand.

You melted into him, your heart fluttering with the familiarity of it all. His lips moved against yours in a rhythm only the two of you knew, a rhythm that spoke of years of being in sync with each other, of a bond forged in the most ordinary yet profound moments.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested gently against yours, both of you breathing softly, trying to slow the quickening beat of your hearts. His eyes were still heavy with sleep, and you brushed your fingers through his hair, your heart full with the quiet intimacy of the moment.

"You need to get some rest, Hoonie," you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his nose. "You’ve got a long day ahead."

He groaned, a playful pout forming on his lips. "Just a little longer..."

You shook your head gently, kissing his forehead, lingering there for a moment before you tucked yourself closer to him. "No, you’ve got schedules today. You need to sleep."

Jihoon’s arms tightened around you for a second, and he sighed, his face nuzzling into your neck once more. "Fine," he muttered, though you could hear the smile in his voice. "But just a few more minutes."

You grinned, letting yourself relax into him, the warmth of his body and the steady sound of his breathing lulling you both back into the quiet comfort of the morning. The world outside could wait just a little longer.

It’s nearly 2 AM when Jihoon comes home, the faint jingle of his keys breaking the stillness of the apartment. The door creaks open, and the soft shuffle of his sneakers against the hardwood announces his presence. He stands in the entryway, shoulders sagging under the weight of exhaustion. His eyes are heavy, his body aching from the endless hours spent in the studio.

But then he notices it—the living room.

The space is bathed in a soft, golden glow from the streetlights filtering through the curtains. Balloons in every color scatter across the floor like a rainbow had exploded inside. In the center of the coffee table, a small cake sits proudly, its frosting delicately swirled and an unlit candle standing tall in the middle. The sight alone eases the tight coil of tension in his chest, but it’s the figure on the couch that truly stops him.

It’s you.

You’re curled up, cheek pressed to a throw pillow, legs tucked underneath you. The faint rise and fall of your chest in sleep makes his heart twist. You look so peaceful, your hair slightly mussed and your face soft with dreams. Jihoon stands there for a moment, drinking you in, before a quiet laugh escapes him. How is it that even now, you manage to make him feel like the luckiest person alive?

“Baby?” he calls softly, his voice low and careful, barely above a whisper.

You stir at the sound, a groan escaping your lips as your eyes flutter open. Blinking blearily, you meet his gaze, your expression drowsy but warm.

“Jihoon?” you murmur, your voice laced with sleep.

He steps closer, the corners of his lips tugging upward. “Yeah, love,” he says, moving to the couch and gently lifting your legs to settle them on his lap. His hands are warm and careful as they touch you, and you sigh at the familiarity. Leaning down, he presses a soft kiss to your temple, his lips lingering as if to reassure himself that you’re really here. “What’s all this?”

“Birthday surprise,” you mumble, your voice thick with sleep as you rub your eyes.

Jihoon chuckles, a low sound that rumbles deep in his chest. “It’s 2 AM. My birthday’s over, love.”

That wakes you a little more. You sit up abruptly, your mock-serious expression drawing a playful scoff from him. “I’d celebrate with you any day, any time, forever, love of my life,” you declare dramatically, throwing a hand over your heart.

He rolls his eyes, but the warmth in his gaze betrays him. “Alright then, troublemaker,” he teases, “let’s celebrate.”

Sliding off the couch, Jihoon pulls you with him, settling himself on the floor in front of the coffee table. He tugs at your hands until you’re seated sideways in his lap, his arms wrapping around your waist like they were made to anchor you there.

His gaze flickers to the candle. “Well?” he prompts, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Aren’t you going to light it?”

You reach for the lighter, flicking it until a tiny flame dances atop the wick. The room glows warmly, the light catching on Jihoon’s features—his sharp jawline, the soft curve of his lips, and the faint tiredness that lingers in his eyes. Your breath hitches. He’s always been beautiful, but in this moment, with his gaze fixed only on you, he’s breathtaking.

You hum a quiet, off-key rendition of Happy Birthday, and Jihoon sways you gently as you sing, his hands rubbing slow circles into your back. When you finish, he leans forward to blow out the candle, the flame flickering briefly before disappearing.

“Make a wish?” you ask softly.

His lips curve into a faint smile. “Don’t need to,” he murmurs, his voice like a secret meant only for you. “I already have everything I want.”

The words make your heart stutter. He leans back against the couch, and you press a kiss to his cheek, then another to his jawline, your lips brushing against his skin as softly as the light in the room.

Jihoon reaches for the cake with his fingers, tearing off a small piece and holding it out to you. “Forgot the plates, huh?” he teases, his lips twitching with amusement.

You laugh, taking the offered bite. The frosting melts on your tongue, sugary and sweet, but nothing compares to the warmth that blooms in your chest at the sound of his laughter.

“You know,” he muses, brushing a thumb over the corner of your lips to catch a stray crumb, “in Brazil, people give the first slice of their birthday cake to the person they love most.”

The simple, tender confession undoes you. Without thinking, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into a kiss. It’s soft and deep, and he sighs against your lips, his hands tightening around your waist. He tastes like frosting and everything good in the world, and you think you could drown in him forever.

“Happy birthday, Jihoon,” you whisper when you finally pull back, your foreheads resting together. “I love you the most, too.”

His lips brush against your temple as he replies, “Thank you, my love.”

The two of you sit there for a while in comfortable silence, the hum of the city outside a faint backdrop to Jihoon’s voice as he softly hums a melody into your hair.

“Baby?”

“Yeah, love?” he answers, his tone low and warm.

“It’s not your birthday anymore.”

A faint smirk curves his lips. “Well done, troublemaker. Very astute observation.”

A mischievous grin spreads across your face as you dip your finger into the frosting. “So that means I can do this!”

Before he can react, you swipe your frosting-covered hand across his cheek, leaving a trail of sprinkles and sugary chaos behind.

For a moment, he just stares at you, mouth agape in mock horror. Then his eyes narrow, and a grin overtakes his features.

“Why, you little—”

You’re on your feet in an instant, laughter spilling from your lips as you dart toward the bedroom. Jihoon’s laughter rings out as he chases you, catching you with ease and tackling you onto the bed.

“Got you now,” he declares, pinning your wrists to the mattress, his fingers digging mercilessly into your sides as you shriek with laughter.

“Jihoon, stop!” you gasp between giggles. “The sheets—they’re new!”

He pauses, his expression mock-serious. “Fine,” he relents, releasing your wrists. “Only because the sheets are white.”

“And because you love me?” you tease, still catching your breath.

“And because I love you,” he calls over his shoulder as he heads to the bathroom. “I love you the mostest. Thank you for the best birthday.”

Lying back on the bed, you let out a contented sigh, your heart full. There’s no one else you’d rather celebrate with—2 AM or not.

[moonxytcn]

Heyyy (btw before I request anything ur writing is literally pure GOLD) anyways could u write about how the reader and billie have always been friends since childhood up to her newest album hit me hard and soft. Billie is on tour and the reader always finds a way to get front row tickets to her bestfriends shows. A few days before tour started the reader posted a TikTok with billie lying across her lap on the sofa. In the comments there was lots of speculation about a flirty friendship (behind closed doors the reader and billie both knew that was true). A few days later Billie was performing in LA. An hour or so into the show billie starts singing ‘Billie Bossa Nova’ from her album happier than ever. When it gets to the lyrics “nobody saw me in the lobby…𝐧𝐨𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐰 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬” Billie gave a smirk to the crowd instantly locking eyes with the reader and winking knowing full well that due to that TikTok posted a few days before, EVERYBODY saw her in your arms.

Nobody saw me in your arms

| Billie Eilish x fem!reader

summary – Billie and you finally talk about how you feel after years of hidden feelings and fan speculation

warnings – fluffy

a/n – heyyy thank you so much for the request!! hope you like it

| English is not my first language so there may be some errors.

| Masterlist —✽— Pinned Post

   ㅤ✯ ━━━━━━ ✿ ✫ ✿ ━━━━━━ ✯

–––

Billie’s voice echoes through the packed venue, the energy in the room palpable as she performs each song with the intensity and emotion that only she can bring. You’ve always been amazed at how she can captivate an audience, how she can make every single person in the room feel like she’s singing directly to them. But tonight, as you stand front row, the bass reverberating through your chest, you know that, for at least one song, she really is singing to you.

It’s been like this for as long as you can remember. From the time you were kids, Billie had a way of drawing people in. You still remember the days when she’d sneak into your room with a mischievous grin, her hair dyed some new, vibrant color, and a guitar slung over her shoulder. Back then, it was just the two of you, making up songs and laughing until your sides hurt. You’d listen to her dreams of becoming a star, and though you always believed in her, it was hard to imagine the tiny spark of a girl next door turning into the powerhouse standing on stage tonight.

You’ve been by her side through it all. From those early, impromptu jam sessions in your living room to the first time she played in front of a real crowd, you’ve watched her grow into the artist she is today. And no matter how big she’s gotten, how many millions of fans scream her name, she’s always made sure you were right there with her.

When Billie’s latest album, 'Hit Me Hard and Soft', dropped, you were one of the first people to hear it. She’d sent you the demos before the rest of the world even knew it existed, nervously biting her lip as she waited for your reaction. Of course, you loved it. How could you not? The album was everything she was—bold, vulnerable, raw, and beautiful. It was a testament to everything she’d been through, and everything you’d gone through together.

But of all the songs she has ever made, one has caught her attention. 'Billie Bossa Nova' was different from the rest, and when you first heard it, your heart skipped a beat. The lyrics were sultry, teasing, full of secrets whispered behind closed doors. You recognized yourself in the song, in the way Billie’s voice dipped and softened, in the way she played with the words like they were meant just for you. And you knew, in that moment, that your friendship had never been just a friendship.

You never talked about it—not really. Sure, there had been moments, stolen glances, lingering touches, that said more than words ever could. But neither of you wanted to ruin what you had. The connection between you was too special, too rare to risk by putting a label on it. So you kept it quiet, hidden behind the walls of inside jokes and childhood memories.

But a few days before the tour kicked off, something changed. You’d posted a TikTok of the two of you lounging on your sofa, Billie sprawled across your lap, her head resting comfortably against your chest. It was an innocent video, just a moment of you two being you, but the comments quickly exploded with speculation. People saw what was between you, even if you hadn’t fully admitted it to yourselves. The rumors of a "flirty friendship" spread like wildfire, with fans dissecting every interaction, every glance, every smile.

Billie had laughed it off when you showed her, her eyes twinkling with that familiar, mischievous glint. "Let them talk", she’d said, and you both agreed to keep it under wraps, to keep the world guessing.

And now, here you are, in the middle of her sold-out LA show, and you can feel the anticipation building. The setlist is winding down, and you know 'Billie Bossa Nova' is coming. You’ve been to every show so far on this tour, using every connection you have to secure front-row tickets. It's become your little tradition, a way to remind her that no matter how big her world gets, you'll always be there, front and center.

The lights dim, and the crowd hushes as the familiar, sultry beat of 'Billie Bossa Nova' starts to play. Billie steps to the edge of the stage, her gaze scanning the audience, and you can feel your heart start to race. You know this moment is for you.

As she sings, her voice dripping with honeyed tones, she sways to the rhythm, her eyes locking with yours. The crowd disappears, the world fades away, and it’s just the two of you, sharing a secret that no one else can touch. Then she gets to the line that makes your breath hitch every time: "Nobody saw me in the lobby…" She pauses for a beat, and you see the corner of her mouth quirk up in a playful smirk. "…nobody saw me in your arms."

And then she winks.

It’s quick, almost imperceptible to anyone not paying attention, but you catch it. Your stomach flips, a rush of warmth spreading through you as you realize what she’s just done. With that one simple gesture, she’s acknowledged everything. The TikTok, the rumors, the truth behind closed doors. She’s letting you know that she remembers, that she sees you, and that she’s just as affected as you are.

The crowd erupts into cheers, but you barely hear them. Your eyes are glued to Billie, your heart pounding as she finishes the song, still holding your gaze. When the final note fades, she blows a kiss to the audience, and you know that it’s meant for you.

The rest of the concert passes in a blur, your mind stuck on that moment, on the way she made you feel like the only person in the world. When the show finally ends, and the lights come up, you make your way backstage, your pulse racing with anticipation.

Billie’s waiting for you, her face flushed with the afterglow of the performance. "So." She says, a teasing lilt in her voice as she leans against the wall, "how’d you like the show?"

You roll your eyes, but you can’t keep the smile off your face. "You know I loved it."

"Good." She replies, her eyes sparkling. "Because that little wink? It was just for you."

Your breath catches as she steps closer, her gaze never leaving yours. "Billie, about that TikTok—" You start, but she cuts you off with a soft laugh.

"Don’t worry about it." She says, her voice low, almost a whisper. "Let them talk, remember?"

"But…" You hesitate, unsure of how to put everything you’re feeling into words. "But what if we want more than just letting them talk?"

She’s quiet for a moment, her expression softening as she reaches out to take your hand. "Then maybe it’s time we stop hiding." She says gently. "We’ve been dancing around this for years, and I’m tired of pretending. Aren’t you?"

You nod, your heart swelling with relief and something deeper, something that’s been building between you for as long as you can remember. "Yeah." You whisper, squeezing her hand. "I’m tired of pretending too."

Billie smiles, and it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. "Good." She says, pulling you into a hug that feels like coming home. "Because I want you in my life—front row, center stage—where you belong."

As you hold each other, the noise of the world fades away, and it’s just the two of you again, just like it’s always been. But this time, there are no more secrets, no more hiding. Just the truth, out in the open, for everyone to see.

[ocinstar]

Heart and soul

Spencer reid x reader

Summary: slow dancing in your living room turns into an unexpected proposal.

Cw: fluffy fluff, established relationship, use of y/n, use of "mrs" and "girl" (but other than that theres not much fem pronouns)

Wc: 1877

A/n: first time writing a slow dancing scene guys!

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

I wasn't having the best day. I had been called in earlier for work since they were understaffed and had to do the majority of the work. I didn't have any more coffee left at home and didn't have time go get some from the coffee shop, so I were tired all day with no aid. On top of all of that, my boyfriend had been gone for almost 3 days and I didn't know when he'd be back.

Of course I knew Spencers job was important, he was saving lives and catching killers. But it would be nice to have him all to yourself for a week before he was swept to a different state. Spencer and I talked on the phone every night and texted each other throughout the day, but it wasn't the same. Not having him next to me in bed every night has severely messed with my sleep schedule, missing the warmth of him next to me. You'd think after 2 years of this that it'd get easier, but it really hasn't.

I felt so much lighter as you walked up to your apartment door, feeling relieved to know the day was over and you could relax. You thought about the warm shower and nap you were going to take as you unlocked the door. As you opened the door, you were pleasantly surprised to see spencer sitting on the couch with a book in his hand. He looked up as you shut the door behind you.

"Hi, love." He smiled, getting up to greet me. He kissed me on the cheek and took the purse off my shoulder and onto the table beside the door.

"Hey, I thought you weren't gonna be back till tomorrow?" I wrapped my arms around his torso and smiled up at him, happy for him to be home so early.

"Case ending sooner than I expected, thought I'd surprise you." He gestured behind him with his head. I looked over to the coffee table to see a spread of food from our favorite Chinese restaurant and my favorite a bottle of wine. I got excited just at the sight of the feast he had bought for the both of you.

"Oh thank god, I'm starving." I unwrapped my arms from him, hurrying over to the food. He laughed as I wasted no time in filling up my plate and shoveling food into my mouth.

"How was your day?" Spencer asked as he sat down beside me, filling up his own plate much slower than I had.

"Better now." I said, words muffled by the food in my mouth. Before eating, he opened the bottle of wine and poured me a glass.

"Thank you, honey." I said once I had swallowed my food. He smiled at me and began to eat the noodles on his plate. Once I wasn't feeling so ravenous, I slowed my pace of eating, now taking normal sized bites.

"How was your case? Did you catch all the bad guys? Save the city?" I asked as U took another bite of chicken.

"I'm not batman." He laughed. With his work hours he mine as well be. "But yes, we did catch the "bad guy" and actually saved another victim."

I always felt proud of him when he tells me about his work. I mean, you're always proud of him. But there's something about the way he talks about the cases he works, the people he helps that just makes me extra proud.

"Gothem is saved once more!" We both shared a short laugh. We quickly fall into comfortable conversation as we finish our meal, him telling me as much from his case as he could without spoiling my appetite and me telling him about the day I had at work.

After eating as much as we could, we cuddled up on the couch. My head rested on his chest as his hand rubs my back. I listened to the steady sound of his heartbeat, sighing contently as he talked about a new book he had just finished.

"I should probably clean this up." He said after a few minutes of us cuddling.

"No, no, I'll clean up." I pushed myself up and crawled over him to get up.

"It's ok, I'll clean up. You relax." He stood up and began to stack our plates. I grabbed them from him before he could take them to the kitchen.

"No. I'm cleaning. It's the least I could do after you bought all this." He sighed in defeat and say back down. I kissed his forehead before grabbing as much containers as I could and heading to the kitchen.

As I tossed out plates into the sink and the empty food containers into the trash. I heard spencer shuffling around in the living room, then I heard the scratching of the record player and then the opening to "every time we say goodbye" by Ella Fitzgerald begin to play. I smiled to myself and walked out from the kitchen to see spencer standing nervously. He had dimmed the lights and lit a few candles.

"Dance with me?" He asked as he held his hand out to me.

"Always the romantic." I walked over to him and took hid hand. He pulled me into close to him, putting his other hand on my waist. We quickly fell into a steady rythme, swaying along to the music. I wasn't much of a dancer, so I let spencer lead me through step. We smiled at each other, never breaking eye contact as we danced.

He took the hand I had on his shoulder in his, pulling me in and pushing me out. I giggled as he pulled me back to him, wrapped his arm around my waist and holding me as close as humanly possible. I nuzzle my face into the crook of his neck and he rested his head on mine. I closed my eyes, relishing in the feeling of having him close. The world seemed to disappear completely, leaving just us in its wake. Any memories of that day had been completely erased from my mind and all i felt was peace.

"One last spin." I heard him say when the song was nearly over. I laughed and put some distance between us so he could spin me. He lifted his arm slightly, twirling me under it. He released my hand when I was turned towards him again.

I was confused for a moment, until I saw him reach into his pocket and pull out a box. My eyes widened and my heart skipped a beat when I saw him drop to one knee, opening the box to reveal a beautiful ring. I put my hand over my mouth to stop myself from screaming.

"I, uh, I had this whole speech planned out, but I forgot everything. I, um, I've never done this before- obviously. But, um-" he cleared his throat, trying to fight off the shakiness in his voice.

"Ok-" -he took a deep breath- "I love you. I love you more than everything in existence. I love how you make me better, I love waking up to you, I love how you push me to try new things even if it's out of my confort zone. You've taught me so much. You're my biggest supporter and my bestest friend. Every time I imagine my future, you are always in it. I couldn't imagine my life without you and I want to stay by your side forever. So, y/n l/n, will you marry me?" Happy tears ran down my cheeks as I listened to him.

"Yes! Yes!" I shouted loudly, practically jumping up and down from joy. I leap towards him ad he stood, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him into a hard kiss. He stumbled back a little at the sudden force, but he quickly found his footing and wrapped his arms around my waist. My hands moved to cup his face and I pull him in closer. I pulled back, resting my forehead on his as we both smiled widely. We laughed when we saw the other, both of us with tear stained cheeks and goofy smiles.

"Oh right!" He sniffled and held up the ring box. He took my left hand in his, taking the ring from the box and slipping it on my ring finger. I marveled at the jewelry, a beautiful silver band with my birth stone on it. It was absolutely perfect.

"Oh my god, spencer. I love it!" I looked up at his beaming face. He chuckled.

"I'm glad you like it. Penelope helped me pick it out." I had talked to Penelope about my dream ring before, so of course she'd know exactly which one I'd want.

"It's perfect." I smiled at the ring on my finger. I felt like I was dreaming, like I'd wake up any second in an empty bed. But this was real. Spencer, my best friend and love of my life was now my fiance. I couldn't explain how i felt, it was far beyond happiness or any other emotion. I felt complete.

"I love you so much." I peppered kisses all over his face as I murmured 'I love you' over and over. His cheeks turned pink and his smile grew. I settled into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body. We stayed like that for a long time. Just taking in the feeling of each other, feeling the connection of our souls.

~~~

Later that night, we sat together in bed and disgusted what our wedding would be like. We searched for venues online and talked about dates. Of course we weren't deciding anything right away, but we could barely contain our excitement for our day. In the middle of looking at decoration ideas, Spencer's phone rang. We both smiled at each other when we saw the name on the screen. He hit answer and put it on speaker.

"Did she say yes?!" Penelope asked from the other line.

"I did." I laughed and she squealed loudly.

"Oh my god! Oh my god!" We heard her shuffling around and opening doors.

"Our genius is getting married!" She yelled out and we heard a bunch of people cheering.

"Wait Garcia, who's there?" Spencer asked.

"The whole team." Spencer and I shared a short laugh.

"Hi guys!" I yelled over the phone, hoping she had us on speaker. She did and everyone yelled hi back to me.

"Way to go, pretty boy!" We heard Derek say from the background. Spencer smiled.

"And congrats to you, Mrs. Pretty girl." He followed up with a cheer.

"I knew she'd say yes! Oh my god, this is so exciting! I'm so happy for you guys!" Penelope yelped. We got more congratulations from the team before hanging up and falling into conversation about their reactions.

We talked about our wedding for a while longer before we started to get sleepy. We cuddled up in bed, wrapped up in each other's arms. Sleep was fast to come as the memories of today replayed in my head. I felt full as I drifed off to sleep in the arms of my love. My fiance.

~~~

A/n: thank you to the person who requested this! I loved this idea so much.

[lndsismaeverything]

Drunken moments

Lnds men gets a little drunk and spills away their feelings at the moment ( MC is already in a relationship with him )

An: here I am writing another fic even though I don't wanna ᕕ(˵•̀෴•́˵)ᕗ took me 3 days to write this ...

Not proof read sorry for mistake and grammar issue. And some words

Xavier

You and Xavier are having a home hotpot. Just a little celebration form todays mission. It was his idea to eat hotpot in the new hotpot restaurant . But when y'all got there it was to crowded and have to wait 2 hours for a table.

Xavier was disappointed to say the least . It was late at night ,almost 10 pm already and he was really craving hotpot

" Xavier why not have hotpot at home? We can buy the ingredients at the store plush it be a lot cheaper and more food" you said looking at his gloomy expression turn into bright smile

" yea, it would be just the two of us too "

The two of you bought the ingredients and headed straight to your apartment since you have all the equipment for the hotpot

No later did you pulled out the alcoholic peach drink you bought a few days ago that was sitting in the fridge, nothing is better then having a cool drink with hotpot on a chilly night

Xavier didn't usually drink but today was an exception and was worth it after defeating a wonderer

I don't know if Xavier can hold his liquor or not judging by his appearance he looks like he'll be knock out cold after a few glasses. Or he can hold it every well since she's been living for over 214yrs on earth now

But let's say he's weak to alcohol for now-

Xavier cheeks are dusted with a hue of pink he should stop drinking while he's still sober. But he can't because of the delicious hotpot u made goes so well which this nice refreshing alcoholic peach drink

After cleaning up the table with the help of your boyfriend you decided to settling on the sofa, to watch a some random comedy video

" Xavier I think u have enough to drink " you said to your boyfriend and grabbing the alcoholic drink and put it on the coffee table, which he protested but let it go

You lay on the sofa , switching from show to show not knowing that Xavier stared at you lovingly. The next moment Xavier lean toward you and kissed your cheeks

It caught you in surprised of the sudden affection of his just now " you look pretty bunbun " Xavier wrapped his arm around your waist and snuggled close

You just smile at him realizing he's a bit drunk but also a bit sober but not completely.

" thank you for the delicious hotpot " his voice so gentle yet soothing

" can we hotpot like this everytime? " he said looking up at you as you played with his soft fluffy hair

" yes of course " you replied, your hand cupped his cheek as you draw small circles.Letting go he plopped his head back on your thighs snuggling close and holding you tighter making you laugh as it tickles

" my honey is the best person in the universe. And not only is she strong, beautiful , kind, trustworthy , independent and a bit stubborn sometimes . She also an amazing cook and Baker."

"I love her so much , my little starlight "

"Your my brightes star in my univers. Beaming brightly when I miss you. Reminding me that I'm not alone "

with that Xavier fell asleep. You turn off the TV and join him holding him tight as he lay on too of you

Both of you woke up from the sofa with back pain.

Zayne

You and zayne just got out of the bar and headed straight home.

Of course zayne didn't drink but that didn't mean you didn't. It was a bummer that zayne didn't enjoyed the free cocktail that the hospital will pay later on . Congratulating zayne for having the title of the youngest doctor that maded it so far in his career as a cardiac surgeon.

The small part only included zayne colleagues and you .

Greyson try to convince zayne to at least have one glass or a beer but zayne refused saying " I'm responsible for taking y/n home "

After zayne dropped you off home you invited him over saying you got him a gift for him. Grabbing the gift from th kitchen table you handed to him and congratulated him on his achievement

He open the gift and it was chocolates

" may I ?" He asked you told him it's his and he could eat it now if he wanted. Knowing zayne sweet tooth he immediately devoured 3 of them while you get something to go along with the chocolate and-

You forget to tell him those aren't just any regular chocolates

" zayne-" your cut off by the sight of him, cheeks tinted pink hes already unwrapped his 4th chocolate already

" these chocolate... I never tasted something like his before..its quite unique ..it taste like Cherry's and grapes.." he popped the the chocolate in his mouth

You told zayne that these chocolate has wine infuse in them. That's why it's taste like grapes and a hit of cherry

each chocolate ball contains 13% alcohol and are meant to enjoy slowly with something salty like ham or cured meat

" how many did you have already? "

" this is my 4th one "

Thinking he has enough already for one night you take the box out of his hands and settled it on the table

You let your boyfriend stay for the night as he can't drive, having eaten a lot of chocolate

You dragged him to your bedroom as he's in a daze looking at you with such fondness. After his shower you have him some spare clothes he left you in case he's staying over

Zayne, siting on the edge of the bed watches you gently dry his hair. He hasn't spoken much since he ate the chocolates which made you a bit worried

" dear, is everything alright ? You seem at a daze, you haven't spoken much since you at the chocolates "

Zayne just pulled you on his lap and started giving you soft butterfly kisses on your face and neck before replying

" it's just that you seem so beautiful that I consider myself lucky to have met you "

"Your existing in my life is everything to me , I can't imagine my life without you by my side...''

"Your my the warmth to my heart, with you I experienced summer in snowy blizzard"

" you're like my precious flower that can survive. in the winter"

" also I want my flower to be careful and not hey hurt during mission . I don't want to see her coming to the hospital injured "

After sharing a moment with your beloved snowman both of you settled to bed , zayne spoons you closely in hin arms kissing the top of your head before whispering " goodnight "

Rafayel

Rafayel avoid drinking during his art exhibition. Especially when someone hands him some wine , wanting to toast him for his great success as young artists

Rafayel doesn't drink the wine as it might be spiked or something. But he except the glass and carefully examinen the wine before cheering with some business men and taking a sip

He's very careful with his surroundings, the moment he say you coming through he excuses himself to be with you

" you late miss body guard "

You apologize and explained that the wonderer you delt today took longer then you expected

" what's important now is that your here "

The art exhibition almost lasted for 4hours, you where by rafayel side the entire time as his request for making up to him for being late.

Rafayel having to meet a lot of people congratulate and toasting him for his newest work , grew more and more red as he takes sip after sip of his wine

Being by your boyfriend as he spoke with some important investors and buyers you noticed Rafayel getting less and less sober

Something wasn't right here, you felt uneasy why was there only wine served and not other drinks?

And the wine they give out isn't weak one either. You saw on the bottle it was 17% alcohol

Feeling worried you looked at Rafayel, you can feel Rafayel getting annoyed and wanted to leave as more people approach him and want to speak with him bout his art you decided its time to go

" let's us give you a toast, to our partner ship Mr. Rafayel ! " they raised there glass before Rafayel could take another sip you took his glass from him and-

" sorry gentlemens I'll drink on Rafayel behalf, he had enough for today " they understand and you leave with your boyfriend

You hold Rafayel hands the inter way out, Rafayel couldn't help but blush, admiring you as you took him away from those annoying people

You called Thomas telling him your taking Rafayel home as he's clearly getting drunk and it was probably someone plan wanting Rafayel to get drunk so they can write something about him and publishing it on the news.

Thomas understand and ended the art exhibition earlier then expected

You call a cab and headed to Rafayel house ( island )

You unluck his house and guide Rafayel inside

" you know what miss bodyguard , your the best bodyguard there is"

" without you my world would be full of black and greys "

" I miss you when your not around "

" I hate it when you keep me waiting "

" but I love it even when your late you try to make an effort to come see me and make it up to me "

" you're my special pearl from the deep sea"

You stayed with Rafayel for the night, the next morning thosmas blew up Rafayel phone asking him to check the news

The news about 'having a secret relationship with his bodyguard?' With a picture of the two of you holding has while waiting for a cab

Sylus

You don't even know how sylus got drunk or at least he looks like he's drunk . When you where at the bace you heard them coming back. So you decided to great them at the door and asked how it go

But you where met with sylus disheveled look like his been hit by a truck

" I'm going to my room don't bother me" sylus said passing through you

You ask luke and kierran about him as they just came from a business deal

You asked like and kieren if sylus drink got spiked . They laugh at you, you think the great leader of onychinus got his drink spiked and fell for it ?

It does sound ridiculous because you know he can handle his alcohol.

Like explain that sylus in hailed some gass that enemy planned , supposedly to make you weak and not able to think straight kinda like alcohol

" yea boss man got hit with ton of gass that's why he looks like that " kierran informed you

" don't worry boss won't go down that easily it will wear off in a couple of hours "

you headed straight to sylus bedroom to check on him but you go to the kitchen counter first to get two glasses of gin fiz that you prepared earlier

You don't know if it's a good idea or not but you already made them anyway

Holding two glass you couldn't knock on the door your about to call for sylus until the door open for you to come in

" didn't I say don't bother me?" stood beside his record player in a robe clearly stated he just got out of the shower

" but you still open the door for me " you settled the two glasses of gin fizz at the coffee table at taking as seat before turning to him

" I heard form like and kierran. How are you doing? Everything okay?"

He just sighed and pick up the glass and drinks it enjoying the refreshing drink before sitting next to you and shared about what happened

" have I ever told you when your with me on the meetings times goes faster? "

"But today was particularly slow bec you where to there so I told them to hurry it up as they where waisting my time. They didn't took that lightly so they grew a surprise attack "

" I was pleased as it turn out like that because I didn't needed them anyway "

" the moment the gass took a but affect on me on the ride to the bace my mind was occupied by you "

" I couldn't stop thinking about you "

" your laughter, your smile, you scent ,everything "

He finished his glass and looked at you, his eyes soft as he gently caress your cheek

" your everything to me..."

" without you I feel trapped in a cage , living out life without it's full potential"

"With you around, I like feel the chains around me being broken setting me free "

" you are my key to my cage..."

" my kitten, my sweetie, my miss hunter, my beloved...."

He's words are sweet and he ment everything he said but you couldnt help but tease him a bit

"Who are you and what have you don't to my sylus" you said you couldn't hold in your laugher .

Sylus just chuckled and shook his head .It was rare for sylus to be sharing his feelings and thoughts

" I wonder if it's the gun fizz fault or the gass you in heiled" you wonder tapping your chin

"Gues we'll never know the answer'' Sylus just took both your hand and gently lean in to kiss your lips

And took another

And another

And another

Before you giggle at him, removing you hand from his , you looped it around his neck before kissing him back

After you finish your glass sylus carried you to him bed , he wants to be sleeping next to you and waking up next you everyday and every night

He carefully lifted the blanket up and holds you tight before humming as soft tune that both of you fell asleep within minutes