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headkiss · 2 years

Text

not just on christmas

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve’s parents are coming home for the holidays and he’s in need of a fake date. who better than you, his best friend?

word count: 8.2k

warnings: steve’s parents (derogatory), negative comments about his job, fake dating, friends to lovers, christmas themes, fluff, first kiss!

a/n: i had lots of fun with this one and i hope u guys like it!!! merry christmas and happy holidays i hope they treat u all well <33 consider this my gift to you :D

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The phone ringing forces Steve out of bed. Floors cool on his feet, the air a chill on his bare chest, he rubs his eyes lazily and picks it up.

“Hello?” He clears his throat to get rid of the sleep in his voice.

“Steve, why do you sound tired, it’s nearly noon!”

It’s no surprise that the first words aren’t asking him how he is. He’s shocked she cared enough to pick up on the tone of his voice at all. “Hi, mom.”

He doesn’t even know where she’s calling from, doesn’t know what business trip they're on. He can’t remember the last time he got a phone call that wasn’t you, or Robin, or Dustin, or anyone else other than his parents.

Steve’s not even excited to be hearing from them, because it’s a reminder that they’re not around, that they haven’t forgotten about him, they just don’t care.

He wishes you were the one that called.

“Listen, sweetie, your dad and I are coming home for Christmas this year, isn’t that great?”

He deflates, “yeah. Super.”

“There’s a business event he wants to take you to. And we’ll find you a date,” there’s the catch. There’s always a catch. “You can make some connections, maybe get out of your job at that video store soon.”

The thing is, he actually likes working at Family Video, but he knows that doesn’t matter. Then there’s the topic of the girlfriend, or lack thereof. His parents are always nagging him about when he’ll settle down, grow roots, or something.

Maybe that’s why he says, “I can get my own date. I have a girlfriend.”

“Oh! That’s fantastic! She’ll have dinner with us, won’t she? What’s her name?”

Like an idiot, he says your name. The first one that came to his mind.

You’re his best friend, and it’s easy to let his thoughts drift to you. The problem is, he has no idea how he’s going to explain this to you, how he can ask you to fake date him just to satisfy his parents for once.

If he wasn’t still on the phone, Steve would be groaning into a pillow right now.

“Okay, sweetie, your dad has a brunch we have to get to. We’ll see you soon!”

“Bye, mom. See you.”

He hangs up and sighs in relief. That feeling is quick to fade when he remembers that he had just named you his girlfriend in the midst of his phone call. He drops his face into his hands, runs them through his hair, and tries to figure out how the hell to bring up the subject with you.

To go along with that, he has to worry about his parents coming home. Though, can they really call it ‘home’ when they’ve been gone for so long? When they’ll leave again after a few days, a week at most?

Most people would be happy, excited, about their parents being around for the holidays. Steve’s not. He’d rather spend it how he has since the two of you became friends. Breakfast at your house with your family—who have become family for Steve, too—presents opened with scented candles burning and Christmas albums spun on the record player.

You went out of your way to include him, and he’s never felt so welcome in his life as he does when he’s with you.

At least, if you agree, you’ll be with him this year, too.

It’s the next day when Steve decides to bring it up. You’re at his house for movie night, which has become a weekly ritual for the two of you. He’s been trying to figure out what exactly to say since he hung up the damn phone. He’s given up and instead hopes it’ll come to him in the moment.

Today, Steve’s quiet, which is unlike him. You know something’s on his mind and you try to avoid asking him about it, trying to let him talk about it on his own time. It’s about halfway through the movie that you change your mind.

He didn’t complain when you showed up with your cheesy Christmas movie choice, he didn’t light-heartedly tease you about your outfit of choice (some festive patterned pajama pants and a sweater that’s so worn there are holes in the neckline), and the most unusual, he didn’t make a single joke or comment as the movie played.

He’s really, really quiet.

You pick up the remote and pause it, “what’s going on with you, Steve?”

He looks at you, catches your eye and sees nothing but genuine concern. Sometimes he hates the way you know him so well. He can never hide anything from you.

“What? Nothing.”

You blink at him, “come on.”

“Fine, okay. Just, don’t say anything until I’m done, please.”

“Okay,” you pretend to zip your mouth shut, ready to listen.

“My mom called yesterday and told me they’re coming home for Christmas, and that there’s this business thing they want me to go to, and that I need a date for it,” he scrubs a hand down his face, trying to hide his embarrassment. “And you know how they’re always on my ass about me being single and stuff so I kind of told her I already had a girlfriend, and maybe I told her that girlfriend is you.”

What?

There’s a lot to process there. Mostly the fact that out of all of the names he could have chosen, he said yours. You wait for him to explain some more, but he’s looking at you like he’s waiting for a reply, so, your mouth is now unzipped.

“So, what exactly does that mean?”

He mutters a curse under his breath. “Um, so, I need you to pretend to be my actual girlfriend while they’re here.”

His use of the word ‘need’ is telling. Steve’s not one to ask for help, not even when he needs it the most but here he is, nervous and a little pink-cheeked, asking for your help.

You let the thought sit in your head for a bit. It’s not hard for you to want to agree. Steve’s your best friend, and you’d do pretty much anything for him. Though, that might also have to do with the fact that you’ve been in love with him for years.

You know more about his relationship with his parents then most do, so if you can make their visit more bearable for him in any way, why wouldn’t you?

“Okay,” you say.

“Okay? Like, you’ll do it?”

“Yeah, sure. I’m happy to help.”

That was a lot easier than Steve thought it’d be. You barely even questioned him before agreeing, and that’s not lost on him.

“Thank you so much, seriously,” he throws his arm over your shoulders, squeezes you to him in a side hug. “It’s only a few days, then we can go back to normal.”

“Easy peasy,” you say, reaching for the remote and hitting play.

Aside from your wanting to help him, to be there for him like you know he would for you, you’re also curious to see what it’s like to be with Steve that way, even if it’s fake. It’s hopeless, the way you love him, like the moon orbiting the earth around and around. Constant.

Sure, those feelings will probably only swell because of the fake relationship, but you’ve been housing them for long enough anyway.

What could go wrong?

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Robin says from the other side of a clothing rack, sifting through the pieces.

She’s the first, and only, person you told about the fake dating thing. Naturally, she decided she’d help you shop for a dress to wear to this business thing and talk about it at the same time.

The mall is decorated, garlands and lights strung, a big Christmas tree lit up in the middle of it all.

“It’s only a couple of days. It’ll be fine.”

“I’m talking about you being in love with him,” she deadpans.

“Robin, not so loud.”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

You know she’s being honest, and though the thought has been at the back of your mind, a whisper, you’d like to believe that you can handle a fake relationship without ruining things because of your big, big feelings.

“I spend time with him alone a bunch. It’s not that much different, okay?”

“Besides the fact that you’ll be calling him boyfriend and acting like it, too, you mean.”

Actually, you’ve been trying not to think about what exactly pretending to be his girlfriend entails. You don’t know if he’ll hold your hand, if he’ll hold you closer than he has before, if he’ll kiss you. You think it might be better to wait and see, to not let the possibilities eat at you.

“I know it sounds bad, but it’s Steve. Nothing major will happen. We’re friends and I’m helping him out.”

Robin’s in a tricky spot. She knows how you feel about Steve, obviously, and though he doesn’t see it yet himself, she knows that Steve feels the same, too. It’s taken a lot to hold herself back from speeding things along, and as much as she wishes this fake relationship plan might be a good push, things usually aren’t so easy.

She can also tell that there’s a lot you’re thinking but not saying, but instead of pushing it, she returns to looking at the dresses. It’s not long before she gasps, pulling one of the rack to show you.

“This one,” she says.

“I don’t know. That won’t look good on me.”

It’s pretty, though. You’ll give her that.

“Shut up, everything looks good on you. Will you at least try it on?” She wiggles the hanger in her hand, “for me?”

“Fine.”

You take it from her, walking back towards the fitting rooms with a grinning Robin in tow. She waits outside the door while you change into the dress.

Once it’s on, looking in the mirror, you don’t even know what to think. You’re not one to feel all that confident in what you wear, or in how you look, but this dress makes you feel pretty. Maybe you should make Robin pick out all of your clothes.

“Let me see!” Robin calls.

You step out of the changeroom, doing a shy little spin when she asks. She’s smiling proudly, like she knows she chose well (which she did). She can’t help but think of how Steve will react, because she knows he feels something for you, she can see it on his face everytime he talks about you. He’s just a dork and he doesn’t realize it. Not yet, at least.

“What do you think?” You ask.

“If Steve’s not already in love with you…”

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

If she does, your brain will conjure up way too many ideas of what could possibly happen. If Steve could really feel the same. If maybe he’ll feel those same butterflies in his stomach that you do, if his heart feels bigger when you’re around. In your dreams, he does.

“I’m trying to tell you you look hot!”

December twenty-third is the day that Steve’s parents come home as well as the night of the business event. You and Steve have tried to figure out how to act like a couple, quizzing each other on things you already know, setting loose boundaries, but you figure after knowing each other for so long, being so close, it won’t feel much different than now. Besides the extra touching, the possibility of kissing.

You’re already at his house when his parents get home, your makeup and outfit for tonight sitting in Steve’s room. The two of you linger near the front door waiting for their arrival, a nervous and jittery welcoming committee.

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway grabs your attention. It’s a clapperboard snapping shut, marking the scene. Action.

“You ready, babe?” He holds out his arm for you to grab, and you do.

“Time to be the best couple ever,” you reply.

Steve grins at you. He has no idea how to thank you for agreeing to do this, how to even explain to you the relief you’re sure to bring. It’s one less thing for his parents to pick and pry at.

The door opens, and you can already feel a change in Steve’s demeanor. He’s standing straighter, stiffer. You squeeze his arm, a reminder that you’re there.

“Steve, sweetie!” His mother barely greets him before moving onto you, “and this is your girlfriend?”

“Hi, Mrs. Harrington.”

If it were someone else’s mother, you’d be hit with the usual ‘oh please, call me (insert name here).’ However, where the Harringtons are concerned, formality is a must. Besides Steve, of course. From what you know, the apple had fallen very, very far from the tree and you mean that as a compliment.

Even after being friends for so many years, this is the first time you’re actually meeting Steve’s parents. It’s clear that he’s never jumped at the opportunity to have his friends around when they’re home. He’s told you about them, and that’s enough for you.

“Steve! Come help me with the bags, would you?” His dad calls from outside, though he says it as a demand rather than a question.

“Yep, coming,” he replies. He kisses the side of your head before going outside, quick and sure, like he’s done it hundreds of times.

“How was your trip, Mrs. Harrington?” You fill the silence.

“Oh, just lovely, thank you,” she moves to the kitchen, expecting you to follow. “The house looks clean. Do you have something to do with that?”

Despite her trying to sound like she’s joking, you know that she truly doesn’t believe that Steve could be the one keeping the place going. As if he hasn’t been doing just that for ages.

“No, no. It’s really Steve.”

Her eyebrows raise, surprised.

Steve and his father walk in before anything else is said—thank God. You shake hands with Mr. Harrington, saying hello and wearing a tight smile. Steve’s quick to come to your side, an arm over your shoulders like a shield. Your hand moves to hold the one resting on your shoulder.

He’s even more tense when his father’s in the room, you’ve noticed. You hold his hand a bit tighter. You wish you could do something to make him feel better, and you hope that this fake relationship will do that at least a little bit.

Meanwhile Steve’s wondering how your presence could make him feel much better than he usually does with his parents around. You’re a comfort beside him, and when he gets the chance, he kisses your head again, whispering a ‘thank you’ into your hair.

The first few hours with Steve’s parents go by dreadfully slow, even with his touch on you most of the time. You’re quickly learning that as a boyfriend—even fake—Steve’s love language is easily physical touch. He has an arm around you, a hand in yours, on your leg, anything.

You’re also learning just how strained his relationship with his parents is. He’d trusted you enough to tell you most of it, but seeing them interact in front of you was different. The backhanded comments, the faces whenever he mentions his job, it makes your heart ache for him.

It’s bad enough that his parents are hardly ever around, but having them act like this when they are? You’re amazed at how good Steve has remained through it all.

When it’s time to get ready for the business party, you’re thankful for the reprieve.

“Think we’re doing a good job?” You ask Steve as he shuts the door to his room.

“They seem to be buying it. Thanks again for doing this.”

“You’ve thanked me like a hundred times, Steve. It’s okay, really.”

You want to tell him that you’re sorry these are the people he has to call family. That he shouldn’t listen to any of the shit they give him about his job or his lack of post-secondary education. That he’s the best boy you’ve ever known.

The problem is, you don’t know how to say all of that without making your feelings for him painfully obvious.

“Just gotta keep it up ‘til Christmas. That’s when they leave.”

“They’re only here for two days?” You knew the trip was going to be short, but forty-eight hours?

“Yeah, something about getting a deal on a cruise. I don’t know.”

He says it so casually, like it’s normal. You guess that for him, it is, but it doesn’t make it any less upsetting.

“Does that mean you’ll come to mine for Christmas day? Like usual?” You ask, hopefully lightening the mood.

“If you’ll have me.”

“Shut up, you’re always welcome. Think my mom likes you more than me anyway,” you nudge his shoulder with yours, then move to bring your stuff into his bathroom to start getting ready.

He leans on the doorframe, watching you set your makeup out on the counter, “she does not.”

“Steve, you have your own stocking hanging on our fireplace. And it’s bigger than mine.”

He smiles genuinely then, the first one since his parents have arrived.

He leaves you to get ready, shutting the bathroom door for when you change. You can still hear him through the door. The opening and closing of his drawers, a curse when he stubs his toe.

So far, pretending to be with Steve has been easy. You’ve acted the same save for the touches or small pecks he’s decided to keep placing on your head or your cheeks. The story you settled on was simple: you met him picking up a movie at Family Video, he asked if you needed company to watch it, the rest is history, blah blah blah.

Steve knocks on the bathroom door when you’re pretty much ready, you glance at yourself one more time in the mirror before opening it.

He stands with his tie in hand, wearing a button up and dress pants. You assume there’s a suit jacket to go along with it, and you think it might kill you. He’s so pretty, and he looks it all of the time but seeing him dressed up is really something.

“You look good, Steve,” you say. Good doesn’t even begin to cover it.

“Thanks. You look- you too.”

Steve’s stunned. He realizes he’s never seen you in anything formal and it’s making him feel all fluttery in his stomach and he doesn’t know what to think of it. He’s always known you’re gorgeous, in an obvious way like how the sky is blue. Now, though, it’s like he can feel it.

He clears his throat quietly and remembers the reason he knocked in the first place, “you don’t happen to know how to tie a tie, do you?”

You’re thankful for the time you decided to learn how when you were bored one day. You take the fabric from his hands, “it’s your lucky day, Steve.”

“Thank you. Didn’t wanna have to go ask my dad.”

He’s almost shy about wanting your help over something so small, his cheeks a little pink, his head bent. You give him a reassuring smile—or what you hope is one—and place the tie around his neck.

His eyes are on you as your hands fiddle with the fabric, doing it up for him. Your eyebrows are slightly scrunched, and he wants to reach out and smooth it out with his thumb. He’s not used to having that urge.

You finish up successfully after having fumbled a little bit, adjusting the tie so it isn’t crooked.

“There you go,” you pat his chest and he hopes you can’t feel his heartbeat, the way it’s quicker than normal.

He has no idea what that’s about.

“Thanks.”

“‘Course.”

He’s still standing close to you, enough that he has to keep his head tilted downwards just a little to be able to look at your face. Your eyes lock onto his, and time seems to slow. You’re so gone for him and you know it, but it almost seems like maybe he’s feeling something too. Just for a moment.

His father calling out that it’s time to go snaps you out of it.

Steve grabs his jacket, shrugging it on then offering you his hand to hold, “let’s do this, girlfriend.”

The hall is oozing Christmas when you walk in, Steve’s hand in yours. Ornaments hang down from the ceiling, warm white string lights line the top of the walls, Christmas music hums through the speakers, and an extravagant Christmas tree sits in the middle of the room.

You’ve never been to an event like it, and you have a hard time keeping your nerves at bay.

Pretending in front of Steve’s parents alone was one thing. Now, the stakes are higher. You have to be convincing and though it’s not difficult for you to pretend to be in love with Steve (you don’t have to fake that at all), you worry that you’ll slip up somehow and give yourself away. Both in the sense that the relationship is fake, and that your feelings are anything but.

It’s not long before Steve’s father gets pulled into a conversation, and his mother goes along with him. You’re left standing near the doorway with Steve, biting at the inside of your cheek.

“Relax,” he leans his head close to yours and whispers.

“Sorry. I’m just nervous.”

“We’re fine. You’re fine,” he squeezes your hand, something that’s quickly become a wordless reassurance between you. “We’ve done good so far, right?”

“I guess so.”

“Okay, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

Except for the fact that I love you and that you being a really good fake boyfriend isn’t helping.

“Okay.”

He smiles and leads you further into the room. The smile he gives you is different from the one he gives the people that say hi to him, the people that stop him for a chat. For you, it’s honest. For them, it doesn’t reach his eyes, it doesn’t mean anything.

“About time you tied someone down, Steve,” a man says to him. A coworker of his father’s, just like most men in the room.

“Think she’s the one who got me, but yeah.”

“That’s sweet. Next step is to get you a stable job, huh?”

It seems like all anyone here is concerned about is what people do, who they know. It’s no fun for you and they aren’t even speaking to you directly most of the time.

“Sure. Good to see you,” Steve excuses the both of you from the conversation.

“These people suck,” you say to him, leading him to the bar set up in a corner.

“Tell me about it.”

You order water for the both of you, something to get rid of the dryness in your throat and occupy you for a bit. You drink quietly before Steve speaks up.

“You look beautiful, by the way.”

He doesn’t know why it slips out now, but it does. The thought has been on his mind since he saw you standing there in his bathroom, and it’s getting harder and harder to ignore.

“You don’t have to say that, Steve. Nobody’s listening.”

“I mean it, seriously.”

“Oh,” you look down at your glass, at the condensation running down the side. The corners of your mouth lift, “thank you.”

“I know this isn’t the most fun, but I’m glad you’re here with me,” he admits. He’s always been sweet to you, but this feels different. You don’t know how or why, but it does.

“I am too.”

Steve’s dad interrupts your moment, pulling Steve off to meet some people. Already, there’s a guard being put up by him, a shield he saves for his father.

For those few minutes, where it was just you and Steve, you realized that he’s probably the best date you’ve ever had. He pays attention to you, he’s comforting without even trying, and he compliments you with so much honesty you could melt.

He’s the best date you’ve ever had and it’s fake. It’s becoming a mantra repeated in your head; it’s not real, it’s not real.

Lost in thought, you don’t notice the boy who’s sat next to you now.

“I’ve never seen you before,” he says.

“I’m not usually at these things. I came with my boyfriend,” you tell him, unsettled by his stare.

“And where is this boyfriend now?”

“He’s out there. I just needed some water but he’ll come back soon.”

You’re trying to get him to go away, to take the hint. He won’t.

“Why don’t I keep you company in the meantime?”

You’re about to reply when someone else does it for you, “not necessary. She’s my girl.”

My girl. Steve. He stands behind you, wraps his arms around your waist. It’s like he knew you needed him then, showing up as soon as you felt like you wanted to search for him. He runs his hands over your sides, a possessive touch that has your skin tingling.

“My bad, man. Thought she was lying about the boyfriend,” the guy says.

“She wasn’t. Even if she was, maybe you should learn to tell when someone isn’t interested, yeah?”

The stranger nods and walks off.

You spin in Steve’s hold, facing him. “My hero.”

“You know me,” he shrugs.

What he doesn’t say is that seeing another guy talk to you made his gut churn, bringing something that he didn’t want to admit was jealousy. He also saw the look on your face, the discomfort, and felt his feet carry him over before his mind could think it first.

His hands are still on your waist, even with the stranger gone.

It’s not until Steve’s parents are ready that you leave. They’ve taken advantage of the champagne that sat on trays, free for the taking, as well as the opportunity to talk up their son to many, many people. It seems they’re only proud of him when there’s other people around, and even then, the praise doesn’t hold much weight.

He’s trying his best. At least he’s working. He’s got a girlfriend now. No, he doesn’t host backyard parties while we’re gone anymore.

You wish you could speak up, but you know, with this many people around, it’d cause more harm than good. It’s hard to listen to the people that raised Steve talk about him the way they do. You want so badly to shout in their faces how brilliant he is, no thanks to them. How he has the kindest soul and a sort of midas touch that makes everything shine.

At least, you think he does. You promise yourself to love him better than they ever did, even if it’s in secret.

One memory from the night overpowers the rest, luckily. ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’ played, a slower rendition, and a slow dance ensued. You watched couples split off, and when you looked at Steve, he was already looking at you, a question on his face and a hand outstretched.

You fell into step with him quickly. It wasn’t awkward for a second. One of your hands in his, the other on his shoulder, his on your waist. You swayed together, unknowingly moving closer until you were close enough to rest your head on his chest. And you did.

He rested his head atop of yours and hummed the song softly. You’ll dream about that dance, probably.

Now, you sit in the car with Steve, who’s become the driver. He drops his parents off at his house first, leaving the two of you alone for the drive to yours. He sneaks glances at you at stop signs and red lights, turning back to the road when he thinks he’s been caught.

His mind is full because he’s looking at you in a way he hasn’t before. He sees parts of you that he was blind to before. The shape of your lips, for example. The dip of your spine and the way it feels to hold you. It’s dizzying and warm, confusing and sparkling all at once.

Once he’s pulled up to your house, he offers to walk you to the door. Ever the gentleman. A romantic no matter how much he denies it, you think. He gets misty-eyed when you watch rom-coms, opens doors for you, has bought flowers for nearly all of his dates, as far as you know.

What must it be like to receive flowers from Steve Harrington?

He faces you on your front porch, hands in his pockets, “thank you again for doing this.”

“How many times do I have to tell you it’s okay. I’m happy to help you, Steve. You’re my best friend.” Who I love more than anyone.

“You’re mine, too, honey.”

It’s not the first time he’s called you that. Turns out, it was his default to use in your fake relationship. It is, however, the first time he’s said it when it’s just the two of you. It sounds sweet coming from his lips, sticky. Just like honey itself.

“What time should I be over for dinner tomorrow?” You ask. It’s the last hurdle of the fake dating.

“How ‘bout I come pick you up after I finish work?”

“Yeah, okay, that’d be great, thanks.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, the cold of December biting your skin.

“Here,” Steve notices, of course he does, and he reaches out with his hands, rubbing them up and down your arms to warm you.

“How’re your hands still warm?” You ask.

“I'm magic.”

You smile at that. He has no idea.

He reaches up with one hand to cup your cool cheek, and you nudge your face into his touch. For the warmth, you tell yourself. That’s it. His thumb runs over your skin, once, twice.

“Did I ever tell you that you have a pretty smile?” He says it so quietly you almost miss it. You don’t, though, and there’s a swarm of butterflies in your gut because of it.

“Shut up,” you try to mask your bashfulness.

Then, just like that, his face is close to yours. So close that it looks like he might kiss you. His eyes flick from your mouth up to yours, like he’s unsure of what’s happening while he’s doing it.

You can feel his breath tickling your lips, the ghost of his mouth on yours. Before that can happen, he’s swerving away quickly, planting a kiss on your cheek instead. The one he isn’t holding. His mouth lingers for a second.

“Goodnight,” he whispers against your skin.

“Night,” you say, dazed. And he’s walking away.

Steve’s not at all sure what’s come over him. He wanted to kiss you just then, to tangle his fingers in your hair and kiss you stupid. What the fuck was happening to him?

When you let your eyes flutter shut, your mouth parted slightly, like you’d let him kiss you, like you wanted it, too, he panicked. Couldn't do it.

No, he doesn’t know what just happened, why it did, or why he’s resisting the urge to go back and knock on your door and actually kiss you when you open it. What he does know is that his heart seems to be doing something funny when you’re around, and that your fake relationship has been better than any of his real ones.

He knows he needs to talk to Robin about this.

Steve had to work the next morning—Christmas Eve—which he was actually thankful for. Thankful to get away from his parents, though the comments about his job followed him out the door this morning. Especially thankful because he needs to talk to Robin and sort out the mess of his feelings that has occurred in the last twenty four hours.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how much he wanted to kiss you. About how his stomach was all twisty when you slow danced with him. There are so many moments playing over in his memory. Not just from yesterday, either.

He remembers the way his stomach would sink when you’d tell him about a date you had or how he’d often reach out a hand to tuck your hair behind your ear, or to wipe something away from the corner of your mouth.

So many things over your friendship that he never thought about are coming back to him and he’s realized he doesn’t act that way with any of his other friends. Only you.

He also realizes that he hasn’t really been pretending with you at all.

“I think I love her,” Steve blurts out while he and Robin are organizing returns, the store luckily empty.

Robin reaches into her pocket, barely fazed, and tosses a handful of confetti at Steve. Some pieces stick to his hair, some to his clothes, most of it at his feet.

“What the hell?” He shakes the flecks out of his hair, “we have to clean that now.”

“I’ve been carrying around confetti for like a year waiting for this to happen!”

“Wait, what?”

“Steve, you’ve been loving her for a long time, hate to break it to you.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” He’s no longer preoccupied with the confetti.

“I was letting you do it on your own time. You’re welcome.”

Steve had only just deduced that he’s in love with you and yet, when he thinks about you, he feels the same way he has for years. He finds it hard to believe that he’s been blind to it for that long, but he has been called an idiot enough in his lifetime for it to make sense.

Then, there’s the fact that you’re not done fake dating yet, that there’s still dinner today to get through and he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to keep himself together.

“What am I gonna do, Robin?”

“You’re gonna tell her how you feel and I will finally know peace.”

“What if she doesn’t feel the same? What if I freak her out?”

“Steve, she looks at you like sun shines from your pores,” she places a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll be fine.”

He picks you up after work as promised, his hands holding the wheel a little tighter, his greeting a little louder than normal. You figure he’s just nervous about dinner.

Nobody brings up the almost kiss, and you don’t plan to. Maybe you read things wrong. Maybe he was aiming for your cheek all along. Maybe he’s been thinking about it as much as you have.

It seems that your feelings for Steve are present now more than ever. Impossible to ignore. It might have something to do with the Christmas spirit floating around, the lightness of the holidays. It definitely has something to do with you being Steve’s fake girlfriend.

Because it turns out, he’s an excellent boyfriend, real or not.

He opens doors for you, even if he has to jog ahead of you to do it. He’s always got at least one hand on you, warm and sure. He looks at you with so much care, his brown eyes stuck on you.

It’s all adding up and you feel like your love for him is overflowing, pouring out of you before you can reel it in. You just hope he doesn’t notice that you’re not acting, that you never were.

Walking into Steve’s kitchen, you pause in the doorway, him behind you, “this smells great, Mrs. Harrington.”

Though Steve knows she probably bought most of the stuff and then put it in pots and pans to make it look like she cooked, he agrees, “so great, mom.”

She turns to look at you both from her spot by the stove, “thank you. Oh!” She cuts herself off with a gasp, her gaze drifting above your heads.

Oh no.

“Mistletoe,” she says, pointing.

“Look at that,” you laugh, short and awkward.

“Steve, sweetie, kiss your girlfriend for tradition's sake, won’t you.”

He kisses you on the cheek.

“A real one, son,” his father pipes up from his seat at the table.

Steve finds your gaze, his eyes wide and questioning. Are you okay with this? He’s asking without saying it. You nod, barely there, but you nod and he sees it.

He cups your cheek in his hand, flashes of last night on your porch come to you. He leans in slowly, like he’s waiting for you to stop him. Instead of doing that, you hold his wrist in your hand, squeeze it. Your silent communication.

In a blink, his lips are on yours. Pillowy and almost shy, but he’s kissing you and you feel like you’re floating, your feet off the ground and everything. He pulls away before you can even register the fact that it happened.

Your heartbeat is loud in your ears, your lips still burning with the memory of his.

Steve can't believe he hasn’t kissed you before. You’re soft and you fit together so well, like the final piece of a jigsaw puzzle clicking into place. He’s kicking himself for not doing it last night, when you were alone, when it was real. Next time he kisses you, he thinks, it will be real.

He clears his throat, tearing his eyes away from you, “so, let’s eat.”

Just like that, he’s moving to the table, pulling out a chair for you and kissing the top of your head once you’ve sat down. Already, the extra affection he’s been giving you has been dizzying. Now, it’s dialed way up.

He helps his mom serve the food before he sits down, though all he gets as a thank you is a pat on the cheek. Next to you, you can see Steve’s leg bouncing up and down. You reach out and place a hand above his knee, stilling him and drawing his gaze to yours.

You smile, and you hope it’s enough to say it’s okay, it’s all gonna be fine. He rests his hand on top of yours, fingers laced together.

“So, Steve, have you been looking for jobs?” His father speaks up. The never-ending topic.

“No, dad. I have a job,” Steve doesn’t look up from his plate, pushing mashed potatoes around with his fork.

“Well, a real job, I mean.”

At Steve’s silence, his mom adds, “we just think, especially now that you have a girlfriend to support, you should look for something… better.”

You look up when she says it, eyes wide and hand tensing on Steve’s leg. You don’t understand how they care so much about what he does and so little about how he feels. He likes his job, you know that, and he’s tried to tell them multiple times over the past couple of days.

And still.

It’s impossible for you to sit by and listen to them talk to him the way they do, like he isn’t good enough. Like the only defining thing is his job, which isn’t even a bad one. What defines him is who he is as a person and he’s the best one in your life.

“Why does it matter so much?” You ask.

His parents look at you, surprised to be questioned, it seems. Steve looks at you, too, with something more like astonishment, appreciation.

“I’m sorry,” you continue, “it’s just, you haven’t seen your son in how long? And all you guys keep bringing up is his job, which he’s told you he actually enjoys. Shouldn’t that be enough for you?”

Steve’s world is tinting pink, heart-shaped lenses over his eyes hearing you defend him. Nobody’s ever tried to go against his parents for him, and here you are. Fuck, he loves you.

They’re quiet, and you’re not finished. “Steve is the greatest person I’ve ever met, and that’s no thanks to you. I’ve known him for a long time and not once have I seen you guys around. How can you judge him so much when you don’t even take the time to know him anymore?”

The room is dead quiet. Nothing but the clinking of forks against plates for the rest of the meal. You feel lighter, after saying what you did. Though you’re also terrified that you’ve overstepped, that Steve will be upset with you for causing a scene.

As if sensing your worry, he holds your hand just a bit tighter.

It’s not until after dinner, hidden away in his room, that you talk about what happened. Not the kiss; your outburst.

He shuts his door and you’re already apologizing, “listen, Steve. I'm so sorry if I made things worse, but I couldn’t just let them shit on your job anymore. I couldn’t. You’re my best friend, you know that, and-”

His arms are around you in a blink.

“Thank you,” he breathes into your hair. “Nobody’s ever done anything like that for me. Thank you, honey.”

“Oh,” you blink away your surprise and wrap your arms around his shoulders. “Anytime.”

“You’re really special.”

Your smile spreads, spilling before you can do anything about it. You hide your face in his neck and stay that way until he lets go, a flush in his cheeks and stars in his eyes.

Steve wanted to tell you he loves you right then, but the words seem stuck in his throat. They won’t come up. He wants to be with you for real, and though it happened in a rush, it also didn’t. His brain just needed to catch up to his heart.

He doesn’t say it, but he will. As soon as he can.

“Wanna go watch a movie?” You ask.

“Yeah, okay.”

Movie night. You and him. That’s real.

Steve’s parents seem to have gone out somewhere, the car missing from the driveway. They haven’t left, though. You and Steve checked for the suitcases (they’re sitting, already packed, in their room).

Playing the movie, yet another Christmas pick that Steve couldn’t say no to, you share a blanket. There’s plenty of room on the couch, you’re the only people there, and yet, Steve still tosses an arm over your shoulders and pulls you to lean against his side.

Maybe he’s just doing it in case his parents come home while you’re downstairs. That’s gotta be it.

“Is it bad that I’m sort of relieved they aren’t here right now?” Steve says to you, quiet.

“Not at all. You deserve better than what they give you, Steve.”

“You think so?”

“Are you kidding? I know so.”

He lets his head lean atop of yours, and that’s that.

You want to bring up the kiss, but then again, why would you? It’s not real. It’s not real no matter how much you wish it was, no matter how much it feels that way. You knew going into this that you might end up kissing Steve, you just didn’t know it’d fuck you up so much.

Part of you hopes that mistletoe will appear above your heads yet again, just to be able to feel the way you did when he kissed you. Heart fluttering, stomach twisting, warm all over.

Though Steve’s head feels relaxed, resting on yours, it’s overflowing with thoughts. You, his parents, the way you defended him, how it felt to kiss you, how much he wants to do it again. You. The entire length of the movie, he’s trying to think of a way to tell you he loves you. The best he comes up with is to wing it.

When the screen fades, and the film ends, you remember the gift you’d left in Steve’s room, buried at the bottom of your overnight bag (you decided to sleep over, something you’ve done too many times to count, and head to your place in the morning with Steve). You sit up, only to face him.

“I have something for you. C’mon,” you tug on his hand, leading him all the way to his own bedroom.

“What?”

“Just,” you make him sit down on his bed when you’re in the room, digging through your bag and finding the present you’d wrapped last night. “Here.”

He takes it from your hand slowly, like it’s the most precious thing in the world. He doesn’t open it right away, staring at the red and green patterned wrapping paper and the gold stick-on bow sitting in the middle of it.

“Open it,” you urge, shuffling nervously on your feet.

He shoots you a shy smile before tearing at the paper, revealing a scrapbook of sorts. Flipping through the pages, he finds memories upon memories. Pictures of you and him, of him and Robin, all three of you. Some with the kids or with Eddie. Most of them he doesn’t even remember taking.

And it’s more than just pictures. There’s movie tickets and receipts from random fast food dinners, confetti from a surprise party for Dustin and a piece of a plate Steve broke once.

It’s the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever given him. It reminds him that he does have a family, no blood relation needed.

“Honey,” he says it quietly, his eyes watering ever so slightly. “This is- I don’t even know what to say.”

“I know it’s not much, but I thought you’d like it.”

“No. I love it. It’s perfect, seriously,” he runs his finger over a picture of the two of you, your faces squished together and your smiles absolutely ridiculous. “Best gift ever.”

He means it.

“I had some help with the pictures. Everyone in that book loves you, Steve.”

Everyone in that book. That means you love him, too. He knows that you could mean it platonically, but something about the way you look at him when you say it makes him think that he has to tell you. He has to try.

He’s suddenly very glad he bought you a locket for Christmas, and that he left it unwrapped because of his lack of skills in that department.

“Close your eyes,” he says.

“Steve-”

“Please,” he trades spots with you, sitting you on the edge of his bed, “close your eyes for a minute, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” you shut them tight, placing a hand over them as well, “double closed.”

He rushes to grab the locket from the bottom of one of his drawers, then grabs the tiniest bit of paper and manages to write as small as he can on it, placing the message in the necklace and closing it with a small click.

Steve reaches for the hand that isn’t covering your eyes, opening it up and placing the delicate piece of jewelry in it. “Okay, open.”

You do, glancing down to what rests in your palm. It’s gorgeous, dainty, and the corners of your mouth lift at the sight of it.

“It’s beautiful, Steve. You didn’t have to.”

“It’s a locket,” he says. His head is bent, shy and visibly nervous. “Open it, too.”

Your heartbeat picks up, like you know, subconsciously, that something big is hiding inside despite the small size of the necklace itself. You wedge your fingernail into the gap, pushing the locket open. The note inside makes your stomach drop.

In his messy, rushed writing, the words ‘I love you.’

You look at him, mouth agape and hopes way up. “Steve?”

“I mean it.”

“How-”

“I mean I’m in love with you, and I think I have been for a really, really long time. I guess it took you being my fake girlfriend for me to realize it.”

“You’re not pranking me, are you?”

You’ve spent so long loving him, and convincing yourself that he could never love you the same, that it feels unreal. Hazy, like a dream.

He sits beside you, cupping your face in his hands softly to make you look at him, “I’m not pranking you. I love you.”

“Holy shit. I love you, too. For so long. I never thought I had a chance with you.”

“I think you’re the only person who’s had a real chance with me since I met you, honey.”

Right there, discarded wrapping paper on the floor, the glow of Christmas lights shining through the window, you doubt you’ll ever take that locket off once it’s on.

You can’t stop yourself from rushing forward and kissing him. A small press of your mouth against his at first, then, it’s more. It’s slow and every single thing you’ve ever wanted. His lips move with yours like they’re the only ones that know you.

This time, when you kiss, there’s no question. It’s real and it’s thawing every single worry you ever had about this. This is real, you get to think now.

Steve pulls away only when your breathing gets heavier, only when he absolutely has to. His thumb trails over your cheek, a lover’s touch. He takes the necklace from your hand, puts it on for you and kisses you again when he’s done.

“Do you think this was a Christmas miracle?” You say, teasing.

“I think this was just me being too stupid to notice how I feel about you. I know now, though.”

“Because you needed a fake girlfriend.”

“Because I needed a fake girlfriend,” he confirms. “But, I’d like a real one now.”

“I think I can manage that,” you nod, a lovesick smile on your face.

For once, Steve’s glad his parents came home. He never would have asked you to fake date him if they hadn’t, and he wouldn’t have realized his very real feelings for you, either. So, maybe it is a Christmas miracle, after all.

༄

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cherryredlove · 2 months

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☆ summer in sunspear ☆

Modern! au Gwayne Hightower x reader SMUT

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

Your flatmate and best friend Rhaenyra invites you along with her group of friends on a summer holiday to Dorne. In the group is the gorgeous Gwayne. Is it the heat or is he checking you out?

Word Count: 2.2k

Themes: SMUT, very indulgent smut, rough p in v, praise, semi-public sex, creampie, content warning of alcohol, lots of fluffy love too

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

You've been looking forward to this trip for weeks, but now that it's finally here, you can't help but feel a twinge of anxiety. After all, you're flying to Sunspear in Dorne with a group of people who are practically strangers to you. Sure, your best friend and flatmate Rhaenyra Targaryen will be there, but her friends are a mix of old schoolmates, some of whom you've only met in passing. You know that, just like Rhaenyra, they're all unfairly cool and chic.

You’re sitting on the edge of your bed, stuffing the last of your essentials into your suitcase, when Rhaenyra bursts into the room with a vibrant energy only she possesses. Her long silver hair is tied up in a messy bun, sunglasses perched on her nose, and a grin spreads across her face.

"Are you ready for the best holiday ever?" she asks, practically bouncing on her toes. She flops onto your bed, grabbing your hot pink bikini from the bed and wiggling her eyebrows.

"As ready as I'll ever be," you reply with a giggle. "I'm just hoping I won't be the odd one out."

"Nonsense! Everyone's going to love you. Just wait until you meet them. Criston is a riot, Alicent is a sweetie, the siblings Laena and Laenor are the life of any party. Oh, and Gwayne is coming too—Alicent's brother. You remember him, right?"

Vaguely, you think. You've seen him at a couple of Rhaenyra's gatherings. Tall, handsome, with a laid-back charming demeanour that contrasts with his sister's quieter and more reserved nature. You recall his wry smile and the way he watches the room as though he's in on a joke no one else knows. There’s something about him, something you can’t quite put your finger on.

As you make your way to the airport, Rhaenyra rambles on about her plans for the week. She’s planned for days on the beach lounging in the Dornish sun and nights out on the town drinking. Your worries slowly dissolve in the anticipation of the warmth and adventure awaiting in Dorne.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

You step out of the airport into the sultry Dornish air, feeling the sun's heat embrace you like an old friend. The group has already assembled—Criston Cole, tall and charismatic, with a smirk and brash humour; Alicent Hightower, elegant and serene, her presence calming like the ocean breeze you can already feel; Laena Velaryon, with hair as wild as the ocean, whose laughter is contagious; and her brother Laenor, who immediately makes you feel at ease with a light hug and smile.

And then there's Gwayne.

You notice him standing off to the side, leaning against the huge rental car (thank the Gods Rhaenyra is rich), a lazy smile spreading across his lips as he catches sight of you. He has an air of effortless charm, like someone who doesn't need to try too hard to make an impression—and from the way his eyes linger on you and your heart races, it's clear that he's made one on you.

“Welcome to Dorne,” he says, extending a hand to help you with your luggage. His touch is firm yet gentle, and you feel an unexpected thrill at the contact.

“Thanks,” you manage, smiling back. “It’s good to be here.”

Rhaenyra claps her hands, pulling everyone’s attention back to her. “Alright, folks! Let’s get this party started!” Criston whoops loudly, winding his arms around yours and Alicent's shoulders, walking towards the car.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

The massive beach house you’re staying in is a dream come true. Nestled on the coast with a panoramic view of the glittering sea, it has enough room for everyone, plus some. The ocean breeze filters through the open windows, carrying with it the scent of salt and orange blossoms.

Your days quickly fall into a blissful rhythm. Each morning begins with a lazy breakfast on the terrace, the laughter and chatter of your friends setting the tone for the rest of the day. Rhaenyra is the queen of leisure, leading the group in a daily swim as soon as the sun reaches its peak.

One afternoon, as you laze under the sun, you find yourself alongside Gwayne. He's reclined on a deck chair next to you, sunglasses shielding his eyes from the sun’s glare. The two of you have drifted into a companionable silence, occasionally exchanging thoughts about the holiday.

“Do you ever feel like you belong in a place you’ve never been to before?” he asks suddenly, turning to you. The sincerity in his voice surprises you.

You nod, considering his words. “Yeah, I do. There’s something about Dorne—it's different from anywhere else.”

Gwayne smiles, his gaze thoughtful. “I think you fit here. With us.”

The words make your heart skip a beat. You hold his gaze, the air between you charged with an unspoken understanding.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

Nighttime in Dorne is a different beast altogether. The group descends upon the local beach bars, eager to get as drunk as possible on zesty cocktails.

Criston, ever the instigator, orders round after round of drinks for the group, insisting on trying every concoction on the menu. The Valyrian Blaze cocktail is bright red, spicy, and strong enough to burn as it goes down, while the Winterfell Chill is a stark contrast, with its cool minty freshness. You yourself favour the delicious Dornish wines, the Stormlands sangria taking the cake.

You find yourself next to Gwayne again, both of you leaning against the bar, both trying a drink that seems to be some unholy blend of dragonfruit and tequila. The laughter from your friends fills the air, mixing with the sound of the waves crashing in the distance and tropical music playing in the bar.

"These are dangerous," you comment, swirling the colourful drink in your glass.

Gwayne chuckles, taking a sip from his own glass. "That's the point, isn’t it? To let loose and forget about everything for a while."

His eyes lock onto yours, and the intensity of his gaze sends a shiver down your spine.

"I suppose you're right," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

As the night wears on, the drinks take effect. Everyone is dancing now, the rhythmic beats of the music vibrating through the air. You join in, feeling the weight of your worries lift as you move to the rhythm, hips swaying, and sandals gliding across the floor.

At some point, Gwayne finds you on the dance floor, his movements in sync with yours. There's a magnetism between you, an undeniable pull that keeps drawing you closer. The music slows, and without missing a beat, he slips an arm around your waist, guiding you in a gentle sway.

The sun is setting as you and the group make your way back to the beach house. The day has been long, but the energy is still buzzing among your friends. As you approach the entrance, you hear Rhaenyra’s voice rise above the chatter.

"Right, everyone, it's surfing and a seafood meal out tomorrow!"

Everyone sounds out their approval, and plans are quickly made for an early morning departure. But for now, the night is still young, and you find yourself wandering the grounds outside of the beach house, needing a moment to yourself whilst the others head to bed.

Or at least you think you're alone until you hear footsteps on the sand behind you.

"Couldn't sleep?" Gwayne's voice cuts through the darkening sky, smooth and inviting. He steps into view, and even in the low light, you can see the amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Just needed some air," you admit, sighing lightly. "It's been a long day."

He nods, falling into step beside you. Wordlessly, his hand slips into yours and guides you towards the Water Gardens that lie adjacent to the beach house. Together, you walk through the gardens, the scent of jasmine and sea salt heavy in the air. There’s a tranquillity here that contrasts with the vibrant chaos of earlier, and it offers a quiet intimacy between you and Gwayne.

"These gardens are beautiful," you muse, your voice barely above a whisper.

Gwayne stops walking, turning to face you fully. "They are," he agrees, his gaze steady on yours. "But not as beautiful as you." His hand comes up to gently brush some hair from your face and rests on your blushing cheek.

The words hang between you, heavy with meaning. In the next breath, he closes the distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that is both gentle and insistent. It’s a moment that feels like it’s been building from the instant you laid eyes on each other, a culmination of unspoken desire fuelled by the Dornish summer.

Gwayne pulls you closer, deepening the kiss, and you can feel the heat radiating from him like the sun you’ve spent all day under. His hands are firm on your back, anchoring you against him in a way that feels both possessive and tender.

Before you realize it, you're backing up toward the edge of the garden where a small, secluded pool lies hidden among the lush foliage. The water shimmers under the sunset, inviting and cool.

Gwayne breaks the kiss first, his breathing uneven, eyes searching yours for permission. There’s a question in his gaze, an unspoken invitation to take this moment further.

You answer with a nod, slipping off your purple sun dress as he unclothes, and with a shared smile, the two of you slip into the water. It’s cool against your sun-warmed skin, a welcome reprieve. The coolness tingles against the building fire between your legs.

Gwayne pulls you into him again, his lips tracing a path down your neck as you wrap your arms around him. The water laps around you, creating a rhythm that matches the steady pulse of your heart. His hands explore your body with a reverence that makes you feel cherished, desired in a way that’s almost intoxicating.

Gasping lightly, you reach beneath the water to feel his cock, hard and thick in your hands. He moans against your neck, standing on the floor of the pool, pushing you up against the pool wall. You instinctively wrap your legs around him, moaning as his hardness presses against your aching pussy.

He looks at you, asking if he can continue. You nod slightly, feeling a shiver of lust as his hands grip your ass tight and his cock nudges against your slickness. He pushes inside smoothly, holding you tightly for what feels like an age as your pussy flutters around him. He murmers sweet words into your hair, caressing you, cherishing you.

"You feel divine, you look divine, my angel, let me make you feel good." Gwayne rumbles against your lips. You nod desperately, feeling so full and loved.

He thrusts against your wetness, sending the cool shimmering water rippling. Your head lolls back, lips parted, as Gwayne bestows kiss after kiss on your tender neck and collarbone as his cock pounds your pussy hard in a measured pace.

His fingers sneak between your legs to touch your clit reverently. Gwayne circles your clit delicately, and whilst you enjoy his worship, you want more.

You kiss him, hard, and bite his lip, not hard but enough to make his eyes widen.

"Gwayne," you beg. "Fuck me, please. I need you to show me how much you want me." Your pussy weeps as his hips slam harder. He leans over you, eyes ablaze and a smirk curling across his lips. You mewl helplessly.

"My angel, I'd love nothing more." He snaps his hips, rubbing your clit more urgently now. You feel the warmth of an orgasm licking inside as his teeth brand marks across your neck. Your fingernails scratch against his muscled back as Gwayne moans.

The water ripples quicker now as he fucks you hard and fast, kissing across your cheeks and nose.

"My pretty baby," he rasps. "So good for me, pussy so good for my cock. Gonna cum, gotta make you cum my angel."

You cry out in agreement, hips bucking wildly as his fingers and cock draw out a searing orgasm from you. His head falls to your shoulders as he cums, thick white cum filling up inside you.

You both stay there for a while, kissing each other softly and stroking hands through each others hair. Gwayne's eyes are shining in the moonlight as you seal your lips under the stars.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

The next morning, the pair of you are greeted with whoops and hollers from the rest of the group as you walk into the kitchen hand in hand. You bashfully smile as Gwayne proudly kisses your cheek. Criston pats him on the back in congratulations.

"I'll make you an iced coffee." Gwayne says, pecking your lips. Laena pretends to gag but throws a cheeky smile at you.

Rhaenyra sidles up next to you, offering you a brioche, looking far too smug. You roll your eyes.

"Glad you came now?" She asks, hip bumping you. You glance over at Gwayne, who is chatting with Laenor but looking at you reverently.

"Yes I am."

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

AN: the way i was kicking my own damn feet writing this. it has been a scorcher in england today (at least for me lol) so got inspired to write a summery sexy fic for darling gwayne. check out my masterlist for more modern aus and sexy fun! send requests and feedback plz love u xx 🍒

#modern house of the dragon #gwayne hightower x reader #modern gwayne hightower x reader smut #modern gwayne hightower x reader #modern gwayne hightower #gwayne hightower x reader smut #gwayne hightower smut

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cybrsan · 9 months

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Miracle Of The Season — J.JK

STORY SUMMARY: Cast out of Heaven after a painful betrayal, you find yourself having to navigate the intricacies of human life without any guidance from the Creator or the family you have always known. Things only get worse as the holiday season reaches its peak, with reminders of the life you left behind everywhere you look. When a familiar face pops up, you aren’t sure whether to consider it a blessing or a curse.

PAIRING: Angel Jungkook x Fallen Angel F!Reader

RATING/GENRE: M ; angst, fluff, smut ; second chance romance, angel AU, soulmate AU

WORD COUNT: 17.2k

WARNINGS: Heavy themes of religious trauma, an initially negative view of Christianity transforming into a more neutral/respectful view of individual faiths, initial dismissal of other religions, difficult self-growth journey, homelessness, very brief mentions of murder and rape

OTHER/NSFW WARNINGS: Sharing one-bed trope (kinda), mistletoe trope (teehee), first time, fingering, cunnilingus, hand job, unprotected sex

A/N: This is a lot. The story definitely got away from me, but I think that's because there was so much I wanted to say. I definitely could have made this longer, and if I had time/wasn't such a slow writer, I probably would have. It's a heavy topic, but it's one that is near and dear to my heart and one that I think a lot of people can relate to. If you do, I hope this story feels a bit healing.

A/N 2: This is based on the vibes of his song "Standing Next To You" and the m/v for it.

LINKS: Part of the Jingle All The Way! collab with my talented, wonderful friends. Cross-posted on AO3 and (eventually) Wattpad. Banner made by the lovely @kithtaehyung.

"—let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!"

You take a deep, calming breath as you pass the carolers. Their cheerful voices grate on your nerves, but you keep your head down and continue walking. Lashing out at them won't do any good, even if it might give you a moment of satisfaction. It's not like they're the source of your irritation anyway; the crowded streets are abuzz with the unrelenting chaos of the Christmas season, and you have been on edge all morning.

Turning a corner, you enter a street closer to the shelter you have been calling home for the past year and a half. Immediately, some of your tension dissipates, and you feel like you can breathe a bit easier. There are fewer lights here and less noise, but a few decorations still attract your attention, like a moth to a flame. A nativity scene is proudly displayed in someone's window, and you stop dead in your tracks.

"Freedom of religion, my ass," you mutter bitterly as you tear your gaze away. Why does everyone and their mother seem to celebrate this stupid holiday?

You know that for many, Christmas isn’t necessarily a holy season. Some humans just use the holiday as an excuse to wear obnoxious sweaters, play the same song on repeat, and spoil one another with gifts. Yet reminders of the celestial realm, of the life you have been cast out from, are everywhere. The nativity, for one. Then there are the carolers singing their songs, and the cartoonish cherub decals that can be found on shop windows, holding banners that proclaim, “Buy one, get one 20% off!” Even the name of the holiday is marked by one of His monikers. Christmas.

It makes you sick.

The weather doesn't help, either. Drawing your coat more tightly around yourself, you try to ignore the relentless chill that settles deep in your bones. You’re definitely not dressed warmly enough, ill-prepared considering the sensation of being cold is something you’re still getting used to. It is yet another item you have added to your ever-growing list of "whys.” The question of why God created snow joins the ranks of "why did He make spiders?" and "why is He the most selfish being in existence?"

You sniff. Perhaps you let your emotions get the best of you at times.

Emotions. Another thing that’s somewhat new. As an angel, you didn’t really have those. The only thing you ever thought about was following orders and how better you could praise His name. Ugh. It’s hard to believe now that you were ever so single-minded. Though, towards the end, you suppose that wasn’t the case. It all went awry when you started this “list” of yours—when you started questioning things.

The moment that doubt had first crept into your mind seems like a lifetime ago. Reaching the status of archangel was something you had been working toward for millennia. It was a position that allowed you to work more closely with humanity; you were able to actually guide their paths and alter their destiny.

At first, it was everything you had ever wanted. The miracles that occurred because of your intervention made you feel like you were doing something worthwhile. But you quickly learned that not all of your missions would be quite as fulfilling.

You will never forget the first time you were put in charge of administering a holy test. The man had done nothing wrong, yet your higher-ups still insisted that he needed to be "tried by fire." The divine reasons were beyond comprehension, or so you were told. But watching the man suffer as everything he loved was taken from him, seeing the desperation and despair in his eyes… It felt wrong. That feeling stayed with you even as you watched the man's faith remain unbroken. Somehow, that made it worse.

And then there were those who committed sinful acts and escaped punishment. You saw murderers and rapists living their lives in peace while innocent souls suffered unjustly at their hands. The scales of justice seemed unfairly balanced, and you began to feel crushed by the weight of your guilt.

Thus, the degradation process began. For the longest time, you thought it was a myth, a scary story told to keep angels in line. If you doubt, if you disobey, you begin withering away into nothingness. You'll start to feel things, to lose your sense of purpose. It will be painful and overwhelming and, eventually, you'll cease to exist entirely. You were told that if it were to happen, you must report it to a superior at once. But you were terrified.

There was only one person you trusted enough to share the way you were feeling—your other half, your celestial counterpart. The one who knew you like no other did. Your Astrom, Jungkook.

There is an old celestial folk tale that documents the first creation of an Astrom pair. It is said God took one star and split it into two. Neither half could live without the other, nor would they want to. It is difficult to describe the way you felt for him, as angels are devoid of personal desires or emotions as humans experience them. It was simply as if being with him was as natural as breathing. He was the only being other than the Creator that you felt beholden to, that you admired.

When you first revealed your doubts to him, he simply listened, displaying a level of patience that you found comforting. He answered your questions about morality, about justice as best he could, trying to reassure you that everything happened for a reason. Yet no matter how persuasively he argued, your doubts wouldn't go away.

Eventually, you began to start contemplating letting yourself fall from grace. The thought was terrifying, but at the same time, there was a certain allure to it. To Fall meant to renounce your celestial responsibilities, and that included no longer having to inflict pain on innocent souls.

When you confessed this dangerous thought to him, Jungkook gave you a look that you couldn't decipher. All you remember is what he said next: "If you Fall, I shall Fall with you."

His words had been unexpected, and you didn’t know whether to take comfort in them or not. You didn’t want him to share your fate, to bear the burden of your guilt. Could you live with yourself if he Fell too? The answer was an obvious no. But the mere thought of being alone in your struggle was something you couldn’t stomach either. So, you attempted to keep your dissent to a minimum and perform your duties as required. But it wasn’t long before everything fell apart regardless.

Eventually, you were discovered and brought before the celestial court. You were accused of blasphemy since questioning Him was an unforgivable sin and sentenced to Fall, to be cast out from the life you have always known. Yet, the real blow came when you found out who had betrayed you.

Jungkook.

Your Astrom.

The one you had trusted implicitly, the other half of your celestial star, had betrayed you in the name of divine loyalty. The pain of the Fall, the feeling of your grace ripped from your body, the scorching burn of your wings as they turned to ash—none of this could compete with the raw, gut-wrenching anguish of his betrayal.

Even now, months later, remembering makes you feel as if you can't breathe, as if you might die. Every memory of him is like a punch to the gut, and the city, so full of noise and life, does nothing to drown out the agony. Some days, the pain is so vivid and unbearable that it feels as though you are Falling all over again.

A rough shove against your shoulder makes you stumble, and the man who ran into you barely grunts out an apology before continuing past. At least the disruption is a timely one, allowing you to pull yourself out of your thoughts before you spiral. There’s no point focusing on the past when there’s nothing you to do to change it, especially not when you have a myriad of new human concerns to deal with.

Your job hunt was, once again, unsuccessful. You keep telling yourself that it’s because it’s so close to the holidays and you’ll have a better chance once the new year comes. In reality, you’re sure it’s because you have no experience, no schooling, and no useful knowledge.

At least you’re familiar enough with the city now that zoning out didn’t prevent you from getting to your destination.

Lost Star Shelter.

The place you’ve been calling home. It’s certainly not perfect, but little on Earth ever is. You feel awful stepping past the crowd of people waiting outside its doors, knowing that they, like you, have nowhere else to go. You've been fortunate enough to secure your spot due to your volunteering efforts and the fact that the manager, Naomi, seems to have taken a liking to you. But not everyone is so lucky.

You step inside, greeted by the familiar smells of disinfectant and something cooking in the kitchen. The place is buzzing with activity as usual—mothers trying to soothe crying children, elderly folks chatting away in groups, and a few lone souls quietly scrawling job applications.

"Long day?" Naomi catches your gaze from behind the front desk, her warm smile a stark contrast to the weariness etched in the lines of her face.

"Isn't it always?" You head over and pick up the clipboard she slides toward you, scanning your list of tasks for the day. As expected, it's long hours of mindless labor, but you don't mind. Not only do you need to earn your place here, but volunteering gives you a sense of purpose similar to your previous heavenly duties. And you have the satisfaction of knowing you're actually helping, not harming.

"First on the list," Naomi points to an item at the top of your clipboard, "is the donations room. We just had a big drop-off and could use some extra hands sorting through it all. But grab some dinner before you start, okay?"

You nod, her straightforward nature getting a slight smile out of you. "Yes, ma'am."

You navigate your way towards the crowded dining area, where a line of people has formed, waiting for their turn to get served. The cooks, all volunteers like yourself, are bustling about, serving portions of the day's meal which looks to be a thick stew accompanied by fresh bread. The food is simple but hearty, more than enough to keep you working through the evening. You make a mental note to slip into the kitchen later and thank them for their hard work.

You find an empty seat at one of the long tables that occupy the space, making yourself at home amongst the people who are engrossing themselves in their meals or with idle chatter. You even join in on a conversation with some older women across the table, who are engaged in a spirited debate about soap operas. Your knowledge of pop culture is sparse at best, but they seem delighted to fill you in on the latest drama, their laughter infectious.

After your meal, you make your way towards the donations room. The sight of piled-up clothes, toys, blankets, and other items is both overwhelming and heartwarming. Naomi wasn't kidding when she said they'd received a large drop-off. It's a daunting task, but you roll up your sleeves and get to work. You start by sorting through the clutter, meticulously separating everything into various categories—men's clothes, women's clothes, children's clothes, etc., and items that need repairs or cleaning. Hours pass by unnoticed, the rhythm of work almost meditative.

Your thoughts inevitably wander back to Jungkook. A pang of longing shoots through you. He was the one who would always be by your side when you had to perform menial tasks like this in the celestial realm. You wonder what he would think of your new life. Does he look down on you from up high with pity or disdain, or does he simply not think of you at all? You aren't sure if you even want to know the answer.

As time wears on, the room gradually becomes less cluttered and more organized. You're just about to take a break when Naomi appears at the doorway, her aging features softened by the warm glow of the hallway light behind her. She takes in your progress with an approving nod.

"You've done well," she says, stepping into the room.

You can't help but feel a sense of pride at her words. "Thank you, Naomi."

She strolls around the room, her observant gaze sweeping over the sorted piles, her hands touching a few items here and there.

"It's amazing," she finally says, "how much kindness there is out there, even when it seems like everything is falling apart. No matter how rough things get, we can choose to be generous, choose to help others. That's what makes us human."

Her words resonate with you. You’ve seen the worst and best of humanity firsthand; the same species that wages wars also unite in times of crisis, offering support and showing kindness to total strangers. How much is influenced by higher powers and how much is purely human nature, you wouldn't presume to know. Your very existence has blurred the lines between supernatural influence and mortal will.

"True," you say, looking up at Naomi from where you're still seated on the floor surrounded by donations. "That’s a nice way to look at things."

Naomi's smile broadens at that, and she gives one last cursory glance around the room before saying, "Well, I'll let you get back to work. Don't stay up too late."

"Goodnight, Naomi," you call after her as she steps out into the hallway, half-waving at you as she goes.

A little over an hour later, you step back to admire your work. Each item has been categorized, ready to be cleaned and redistributed. You move on to your next set of responsibilities: cleaning up the common areas and helping close up for the night.

The smell of cleaning supplies clings to your skin as you make your way back to your sleeping quarters—a small, shared room filled with single beds. Careful not to disturb anyone, you move towards your assigned bed, its familiar creaks and groans echoing softly under your weight as you settle into it. Exhaustion pulls at your muscles, but you need to wash up and change before you sleep.

You grab your shower caddy, change of clothes, and quietly make your way to the women’s bathroom. The fluorescent white lights flicker to life as you enter, revealing a row of curtained shower cubicles. You choose one at the end and let the water heat up as you undress. The hot water cascades over your tired body, soothing your muscles and washing away the sweat and grime that has built up throughout the day.

Shower done and teeth brushed, you pull on fresh clothes and make your way back to your bed. As you settle back down under the covers, you notice something strange on your bedsheet. A crisp scorch mark is visible against the fabric, and when you observe it more closely, you're shocked to realize that the shape almost looks like… fingers? Your heart hammers in your chest.

"Impossible," you whisper to yourself.

The sight of these burns is not unfamiliar to you; in fact, you have been the cause of such marks before. It is a common occurrence when celestial beings interact with the mortal world—remnants of their powerful energy left behind. But as you stare at them now, a sense of unease creeps over you. Could it be Jungkook? The thought flickers through your mind, but you quickly brush it aside. Why would he make himself known in this way and then vanish without even seeing you? You can't allow yourself to hope.

Dismissing the thought, you force yourself to rationalize that it must have been an accident. Perhaps someone burned it while it was being ironed. It’s easy enough to convince yourself; after all, it’s only three and a half slender marks—it could be anything. But the unease remains as you lay down on the bed, your mind filled with questions. You eventually succumb to sleep from sheer exhaustion, your dreams filled with memories of Jungkook.

The next day passes in a blur—the usual routine of job applications, food preparation, and cleaning duties. The burn mark on your bedsheet remains a mystery. You track down the volunteer who did the laundry, and she swears she wouldn't be so careless as to burn someone’s belongings. Despite her assurances, it's the only explanation you are willing to believe. You return to your bed to find that the sheet has been replaced with a fresh one, the burn mark gone as if it never existed.

You spot an older man sitting on a bed in the corner; his mouth moves silently, and the rosary beads dangling from his fingers lead you to believe he’s praying. A small, faux Christmas tree, no larger than a water bottle, stands on a box next to him. The sight stirs something with you, an uncomfortable feeling once again settling in your gut. You don’t understand his faith. How can someone continue to pray to a God that has obviously forsaken him?

You wait until the man finishes and safely tucks the rosary beads into his shirt pocket, right above his heart, before you approach.

“Excuse me?”

He looks up at you with a smile, eyes crinkling around the edges. "What can I help you with, dear?"

"I noticed you praying," you begin tentatively. Despite your personal qualms with religion, you don’t want to seem as if you are disrespecting him or his beliefs. "I hope you don't mind my asking, but how do you keep your faith? Under these circumstances?"

He doesn't seem bothered at all by your blunt question. Instead, he chuckles softly and pats the bed beside him, inviting you to sit down. You hesitate a moment before complying.

"Faith isn't about having all the answers," he starts, his voice a mere whisper in the quiet room. "It isn't about being rewarded for good deeds or punished for bad ones. It's about hope. It's about believing that things will get better."

“Hope? Still? Despite… despite being here? I mean, aren’t you upset with God?” Your voice is barely above a whisper as well, a mixture of curiosity and frustration seeping into your words.

He remains silent for a while, his gaze wandering towards the small Christmas tree on the box beside him.

"No, I'm not upset with God," he finally replies. "Man is given free will, and it is man who chooses what to do with it. Crisis, poverty… God didn't create these. They're the consequences of human choices." His words are sincere, spoken with a calmness that only comes from years of contemplation. "God doesn't promise us that life will always be easy or free from hardships. But He does promise that He will be there in those times of trouble. You see, faith isn't about expecting God to fix our problems, but about having the strength to face them."

“I envy your strength,” you admit with a hint of admiration in your voice.

“Strength is born from struggle, dear. You’ll find your way soon enough.”

“I hope you’re right.”

The conversation lingers in your mind long after the man's words have faded into silence. You sit on your bunk, staring at the ceiling, pondering them. His unshakable faith is both alien and inspiring to you. Even when you were an archangel, before any doubts seeped into your mind, your faith was nothing like his. It was a duty, an obligation, a resolute certainty that was less about personal beliefs and more about the world you were born into.

His mention of hope sticks out to you the most. You look around the room again, taking note of the different symbols of faith scattered across the room—crosses, menorahs, and even a small prayer mat in one corner. Each person in this room believes in something larger than themselves, something that gives them hope. And you? You're not certain what you believe in anymore. But maybe, just maybe, some of your anger has been misplaced.

As the daylight fades, you find yourself wandering outside, the crisp evening air bringing a kind of comfort you couldn't find inside. You walk aimlessly, your feet following the now-familiar sidewalks. You end up in a park, and you make a seat for yourself on a deserted bench.

Looking up into the sky, now painted with hues of orange and pink, you let yourself miss Heaven for just a minute. To miss Jungkook. Even the Creator. You can never go back to worshipping Him, nor do you want to, but you can't deny the connection that once was. As much as you wish everything never happened, you are grateful for how much you've grown since.

Suddenly, you’re disoriented by a bright flash of light and a shrill, piercing sound that makes your entire body jolt. You shut your eyes and cover your ears, but it does nothing to dull the pain. It's as if the noise is coming from inside your mind. You half-crawl, half-fall off the bench, curling in on yourself, unable to think anything, do anything, until it finally comes to a stop.

The world pauses around you; the birds stop chirping, the wind stops blowing, and people are frozen where they walk. A familiar feeling washes over you, and your breath catches in your throat. You can’t bring yourself to open your eyes. Even in this form, even as a human, his presence calls to your very soul. You hadn’t realized how incomplete you felt, how empty you were, without him by your side. He’s your other half, and he always will be. The realization makes you want to cry. You had hoped after the Fall, after you became human, that would cease to be true. You can’t stand the fact that you’re still irrevocably tied to him, even after all that he’s done. As always, fate is cruel.

“Y/N.”

He speaks your name with a quiet reverence as if he can hardly believe you’re there in front of him. The familiar, honeyed tone of his voice reignites your longing for him with full force, but you still stubbornly keep your eyes closed. You can’t look at him. You aren’t strong enough.

“I cannot believe you are alive.”

What?

His statement shocks you enough that your eyes fly open of their own accord, and for the first time in months, you're met with the sight of Jungkook. You're not sure if you perceive him differently now that you are mortal, but he's even more captivating than you remember.

His dark hair curls softly atop his head and is tousled ever-so-perfectly. His skin is beautifully tanned, and the way his tall figure is silhouetted against the sun makes it seem like he's glowing. His wings are obsidian, gargantuan in size, seemingly consuming the entire park with their reach. He's magnificent, so beautiful it hurts.

But it is his eyes that have you frozen in your spot—those beautiful, brown doe eyes, filled with so much emotion that it takes your breath away. He's not supposed to be able to feel unless… unless he has begun the degradation process, as you had.

“Y/N,” he repeats, his voice trembling. "I thought you were dead."

“I don't understand,” you manage to choke out, trying to sound more composed than you feel. You pull yourself to your feet, grimacing at the pain radiating throughout your body. How much of it is physical and how much is emotional, you can't tell.

He takes a step closer to you, his hands outstretched as if to ensure that you're real, but you recoil instinctively. He flinches at your reaction but still grabs your arms, grip unrelenting even as you attempt to pull away from him.

“Protective markings have been burned onto your ribs.” Hurt flashes across his features. “Were you hiding from me?”

“What? No.” You manage to break free and back up a few steps, putting some distance between you. You feel exposed and vulnerable under his gaze, remembering how he always seemed to know what you were thinking even before you did. "I didn't even know I had them."

"I need you to explain everything," he demands.

“You need me to explain?" You scoff and cross your arms over your chest defensively. "What about you?”

“Me?” He tilts his head slightly, his confusion obvious.

“Yes, you!" You take a step closer, anger simmering just beneath the surface. "After all, you’re how I ended up in this situation, right?”

“What are you talking about?”

"You betrayed me!" you hiss. “I confided in you, and you told me you understood. That you were with me. And then you turned around and proclaimed me a blasphemer!”

He doesn’t respond right away, and it’s as if you can see the cogs turning in his head as he pieces things together. “Y/N… I would never.”

His admittance makes you pause. Angels aren’t supposed to lie, though you know not everyone abides by that law. However, Jungkook has always been one of the most dedicated to the commandments.

“That’s not what Namsu told me.”

“Namsu? The Throne?”

“Yes, the Throne. The one who exiled me on the orders of up high.”

His eyebrows furrow. “You… were exiled? You did not wither?”

"Wither?" you scoff. "That's a myth, Jungkook. A cover-up to hide the fact that when angels start to stand up for what they think is right, they get cast out. And it's thanks to you that I'm here now."

"I… no." The intensity behind the word takes you aback. "I just wanted to help you; I thought you were sick. I went to one of the Cherubim for guidance—I would have never turned you in for some kind of punishment."

His words hang in the air, making your heart pound in your chest. He was trying to help you? The thought sends a flurry of conflicting emotions through you.

"Help me?" You repeat his words, mocking him in your disbelief. "Your way of helping got me exiled! Cast down and made mortal."

"I did not—" He cuts himself off, his gaze dropping to the ground. "I never meant for any of this to happen."

"Yet it did!" you snap, crossing your arms tightly around yourself as if they could somehow shield you from the pain his presence brings. "And now I'm here, and nothing will ever be the same!"

"I am so sorry." His apology is whispered so softly that you almost don't catch it. But you do, and it hits you like a punch in the gut.

Your head feels as if it's about to implode. He didn't purposefully betray you—in fact, he was trying to save you. But even so, his actions have led to your downfall, and now you're stuck here on earth, far from the light of Heaven, vulnerable and mortal, while he remains immortal and untouchable. Perhaps that's the part that hurts the most. The fact that now you are separated not by betrayal but by the very nature of your beings.

Your voice cracks as tears fill your eyes. "If all this is true, then why wouldn’t you have looked for me?”

“I looked everywhere at first, but I could not sense you anymore.” If it was possible, you think he would be crying too. “Namsu is the one who told me what happened. He said that you… that your doubt consumed you, and you did not survive.”

The information hits you like a ton of bricks. Your knees almost give out for a second time, but Jungkook reaches out and grabs you by the elbows, steadying you.

"I… I had no idea." A bitter laugh escapes your lips as you look up at him. "You didn't know anything, and I presumed the worst of you."

His fingers tighten around your arms in a reassuring squeeze. "We can always start over, Y/N."

"Start over?" you echo, incredulous. "You make it sound so easy."

"And why would it not be? We were not the ones to blame for our separation. Come back with me."

"I'm human now. The only way I can come back is… is if I'm dead."

His grip loosens, his face paling at your words. "I did not mean to suggest… Of course, I do not want you to die," he hastily corrects himself, glancing down at the ground. His wings flutter uneasily behind him, betraying his discomfort. "There must be another way."

"If there was, would it even be safe? I mean, why would Namsu do this?" you ask, staring at him. You're not sure if you're asking him or simply musing aloud. Even so, the question hangs heavily in the silence between you.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, Jungkook speaks again. His voice is barely above a whisper when he says, "I wish I had the answers you seek, but I don't. All I know is that I will do everything in my power to rectify this situation." He turns away from you, scanning the horizon as if searching for something. "I need to return and confront Namsu. He must account for his actions."

"No, it's too dangerous. What if he forces you to Fall, too? You can't risk it, Jungkook."

He looks back at you, his expression hardening. "I will not let him get away with this, Y/N," he says resolutely. "Deception is not a virtue of a Throne, especially not in such grave matters."

"And you won't let him, but you need to go about this carefully. Going to him directly won't work—he's too powerful."

Jungkook tilts his head, regarding you skeptically. "It almost sounds as if you are asking me to be deceitful."

"Not deceitful, just… stealthy?"

He doesn’t respond immediately, his brow furrowed as he mulls over your words. After a moment, he exhales slowly, pulling back from you to pace the grass in thought. "Stealthy," he repeats slowly, his voice distant. "That would require careful planning. Secret meetings. Misdirection."

"Yes," you agree, watching him closely. "All of that."

He stops suddenly, turning to look at you. "Very well. I will do whatever it takes to get to the bottom of this."

Your chest tightens, and you gnaw at your bottom lip. His resolve both comforts and worries you. You don't want him to risk himself for you, but part of you is happy that he is willing.

"However,” Jungkook breaks your train of thought. "It sounds like I may need to be a little bit more human to pull this off. After all, none of this comes easily to angels, but mortals lie all the time."

You raise an eyebrow. "And how are you going to achieve that?"

"You will have to teach me, of course." He says this as if doing so will be the easiest thing in the world. “The degradation process has already started for me, as I am sure you are aware. It should be easy.”

"You're serious?"

Jungkook had always been so straight-laced, the epitome of angelic perfection. The idea of him playing at being human is almost laughable.

"Completely," he responds, his intense gaze never wavering. "I am willing to do whatever it takes to bring Namsu to justice and try to fix this. Fix us. If that requires adopting some mortal habits, then so be it."

"Alright," you finally concede, shaking your head in amusement. "Time for a crash course in 'how to be a human' 101."

He smiles faintly at that, the corners of his mouth tipping upwards just so. It's a small thing, barely noticeable amidst the tension still hanging heavily in the air between you two, but it's enough. Enough to remind you that the way you felt about him in Heaven, despite not being able to feel, was some kind of love. You don't know where that leaves you now or what you're going to do about it, but procrastination is another human skill you have come to love. Maybe you'll teach him that eventually.

"Lesson one," you start, pointing a finger at him in mock sternness. "Humans don't always speak so formally or in such grandiose phrases. ‘I am going to bring Namsu to justice' sounds archaic or like something a two-bit superhero would say."

His lips quirk upward into a more genuine smile this time. "I see," he replies, his voice deliberately casual. "So how would a human say it?"

"Well, for starters, you could use slang," you suggest.

Jungkook’s brows furrow, an almost comical look of concentration on his face. “Slang,” he repeats, testing the word on his tongue.

“Yes, slang. Humans don’t always pronounce every single word, and they often come up with new, shorter words to replace certain phrases. You could say something like, 'Namsu’s gonna get what he deserves.'”

He nods, repeating your words slowly. “Namsu... is going to get what he deserves.”

You burst out laughing at his attempt. The prim, stoic angel fumbling his way through human speech? It is truly a sight to behold.

"Laughing at my expense?" He feigns hurt, but there's a playful twinkle in his eyes that gives him away. "I guess that's lesson two then: humans are full of mirth and mockery."

"You're catching on quickly," you reply, still giggling slightly. “And yes, we like to laugh.”

He observes you a moment longer before finally allowing a soft chuckle to escape his lips. It's a deep, rich sound, but it feels tentative like he's not quite sure if he's doing it right.

“Laughing…" he murmurs, puzzling over the concept. “Such a peculiar expression of joy. But I like it."

"As you should," you reply, a grin still playing across your face. "It's one of the best parts about being human."

Jungkook studies you for a moment, a smile tugging at his lips. "It suits you."

"Hm? What does?"

"Being human."

"I’m not sure whether to take that as a compliment or an insult.”

"There is a certain spontaneity in humans. A vibrancy that angels lack." Jungkook’s gaze intensifies, his voice lowering to almost a whisper as he steps closer. "It makes you shine more brightly. Like the sun."

He's so close to you now that you can make out the subtle flecks of gold in his eyes. Your heart pounds in your chest as his words wash over you, warming you from the inside out.

"That—" You clear your throat, trying to steady your shaking voice. "That sounds like a compliment."

"It is," he confirms, his gaze flickering down to your lips for a brief second before rising back to meet your eyes. "But it is also an observation. A fact."

You want to kiss him. The thought shocks you—you've never kissed someone before, let alone wanted to. It must be a human impulse. You can't help but imagine what it might feel like, the warmth of his lips against yours, his skin beneath your fingertips. You want to feel his hand on your cheek, his fingers tangling in your hair. But the danger of your respective positions impedes that thought, and you push it down. He's an angel. You're not. Him being your Astrom, the connection you had before your Fall, none of it matters now.

"Okay," you manage to squeak out, trying to ignore the electricity that seems to be sparking between your too-close bodies. "Human lesson number three: we're big on personal space."

"Oh?" Jungkook raises an eyebrow but doesn't step away. "Is this too close?"

You swallow hard. "A bit."

You swear you see a hint of mischievousness cross his features before he complies, stepping back just enough to leave a sliver of space between you. "Better?"

"Now you're just teasing me," you retort, though there's a soft smile playing on your lips.

"Is that frowned upon?"

"No," you admit. "In fact, it's quite human of you. Now, it’s time for a real challenge." He looks at you quizzically. "We have to convince Naomi to let you stay at the shelter."

"Ah," he nods, understanding dawning on him. "I see. Another part of being human—negotiation."

"Exactly."

"Then lead the way." With a snap of his fingers, time resumes for the two of you and his wings have disappeared, making him appear fully human, and you head back to Lost Star.

"Naomi, please," you beg, giving your boss the best puppy eyes you can muster. "He needs a place to stay."

Naomi crosses her arms over her chest and drags her gaze over Jungkook in a way that suggests she's scrutinizing every cell of his being, from the top of his head down to the tips of his toes. "There's no extra beds, hun. I'm sorry, there's nothing I can do."

"Then he can stay with me!"

"You and him, sharing that tiny little twin bed?" She scoffs. "I'd like to see you try."

"We'll make it work!"

"It's still against the rules. One body to one bed."

"I know it's not ideal, but just for a few days until we figure out something else," you urge her. "I wouldn't be asking you this if it wasn't important."

Jungkook steps forward, interjecting smoothly, "I will respect the rules, and if you feel my presence is harmful or disruptive in any way, I will leave immediately."

Naomi looks between you and Jungkook, and then she sighs, throwing her hands up in defeat.

"Fine, but only for a little while. And you can't sleep in the main room. Take my office—the couch is a pull-out."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" You pull her into a hug that she returns with a loving exasperation.

"If there's even a whiff of trouble, both of you are gone, understand?"

"Yes, ma'am! I wouldn't expect anything less."

You grab Jungkook’s hand, dragging him along behind you as you lead him through the shelter. You pass through some of the busier living areas, and it's as if everyone can’t help but stare at him. You can only assume that, despite his wings being hidden, he still emits some sort of otherworldly aura that draws people in. Plus, by human standards, you suppose he's quite attractive.

Jungkook seems unbothered by the attention, too focused on his surroundings and curiously taking in every detail.

"All these people live here?" he asks, incredulous. "This place is quite small."

"Shh! Lesson four: lower your voice when you're talking about other people. The last thing we need is for someone to overhear and think you're judging them."

"Apologies," Jungkook replies, his voice dropping to a whisper. "But my previous comment was not meant to be judgmental. I’m just… surprised. I thought humans usually lived in family units, but everyone here doesn't seem to be related."

I’m. Doesn’t. He’s already using contractions—you must either be a good teacher or he’s a quick learner.

"You're right," you agree, and as you glance around, your heart aches a little. "Not everyone is fortunate enough to have that. This place is for those who have lost their families or homes."

"Lost their homes? Like in a fire?"

"Sometimes. Or maybe they didn't have enough money to pay their taxes."

"I don't understand. Are there not enough homes for everyone? Why do you need to pay for such a basic need?"

You pause, the innocence of his question hitting you surprisingly hard. Of course he wouldn't understand the complexities of human society, of money and social class, of poverty and wealth disparity. You didn't either; at least, not until you Fell and were forced to figure it out.

"That is a complicated issue," you admit, running a hand through your hair. "And not all humans agree on how to solve it. Some people think everyone should have a home, regardless of whether or not they can pay for it. Others think that if you can't afford it, you don't deserve one."

He looks so confused that you would be tempted to laugh if the tone of the conversation wasn't so serious. "That doesn't seem fair. In heaven, everyone has a place."

"Yes, well, Earth isn't heaven." There's a bitterness to your words that you hadn't intended. "And why our Creator chooses to leave things like this is a mystery to me. I mean, why not use some of His power to help?"

"The ways of the Almighty are impossible for us to understand," Jungkook quietly replies. "And it's not for us to question."

You snort in response, crossing your arms over your chest. "Well, aren't you a dutiful little angel?"

Jungkook frowns, clearly not understanding your sarcasm. You sigh and shake your head.

"I'm sorry, Jungkook. It's just hard to wrap my head around sometimes. It's why my so-called degradation process started in the first place. Look at them—" You gesture to the people huddled together around the small television in the corner of the room, others sharing a meal or helping to care for the younger children. "They're good people. Why do they deserve to suffer?"

Silence lingers between you for a moment. When he responds, he doesn’t answer your question. “Their heavenly rewards shall be plentiful as long as they keep to their faith.”

“Does that make all of this okay?" You scoff. "Why are they being tested like this? In fact, why do they even need to believe at all to be given a home in the celestial realm? If a person is good-hearted, why isn’t that enough?”

Jungkook looks away from you. "I don't like these questions."

“You don’t like them? Or you don’t like how uncomfortable they make you feel?”

Before he can even bother replying, you let go of his hand and open the door to Naomi's office, hurrying inside, eager to get some space. It's small and cramped, filled with stacks of paper, an old wooden desk strewn with an old computer and various office supplies, and a well-worn couch wedged against the wall.

"It's not much," you say. "But it's home for now, I guess."

"Home," Jungkook repeats softly, eyes scanning the room. He zeroes in the billboard behind Naomi's desk, filled with photos of smiling people, letters from those that she has helped. A smile tugs at his lips. "It's nice."

"You say that now. Just wait until you're trying to sleep and a couch spring is digging into your back."

"I don't actually need to sleep," he reminds you.

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. "Right, I forgot. At least we won't be fighting for the blanket."

"I can pretend to," Jungkook offers, a spark of amusement in his eyes. "The idea of laying next to you is not unwelcome."

You blush, taken aback. "W-what… you…" You take a deep breath. "No, that won't be necessary. And lesson five: don't flirt with people unless you mean it."

"What is 'flirt’?”

"Flirting," you explain, trying to keep your blush under control, "is when people say or do things that suggest they're attracted to each other."

"I see." He pauses for just a moment before asking, "And how do I know if I'm attracted to someone?"

You sigh exasperatedly. Who knew teaching an angel to be human could be so tiring?

"It's… well, it's kind of hard to explain. Especially because, as an angel, you don't really feel, at least not until the degradation process is nearing its end. But basically, it's like you have an inexplicable urge to be around this person a lot. You think about them often, their happiness makes you happy, and you want to be closer to them, maybe even touch them or hold them. Some people also might feel their heart beat faster, or a fluttering in their stomach."

As you speak, Jungkook’s eyes never leave yours. They gleam with curiosity and understanding, drinking in every word you say. He seems to be processing the concept, and then he suddenly smiles. "So, like how I feel about you."

Caught off-guard, you blink at him, speechless for a moment. And then the panic seeps in.

"No, Jungkook, that's not correct," you insist, your words tumbling out in haste and denial. "You can't… we can't… you're an angel. I'm—" Fallen, you want to say. Human, you need to say. But you don't.

"Why not?" he asks simply, his gaze steady.

"Because!" You scramble for an explanation, desperate to avoid the truth of your own feelings stirring within you. "Because angels aren't supposed to feel that way."

"But I am no longer a pure angel," Jungkook counters. "The degradation process has begun. We discussed this already."

"But that doesn't matter! The whole reason we are doing this is so you can learn the skills you need to figure out a way to stop Namsu from forcing anyone else to Fall. Once you do, you'll be able to stay in Heaven because withering isn't real." Before he can say anything else, you open the door. "I'm gonna grab my stuff from my bed. I'll… I'll be back in a second."

You slam the door behind you, leaving Jungkook alone in the room. It's a struggle to keep your composure as you head towards your bed. All you can think of is his words, the nonchalance with which he said them. You can feel your traitorous heart yearning for him, but you can't let it sway you. Whether it was an accident or not, his betrayal led to your Fall. Led to you being human. And he's an angel. No matter what you feel or what he thinks he feels, nothing can happen between you now.

As you gather your meager belongings, the man you spoke with earlier approaches you with a sympathetic expression. "You alright, dear? You didn't get evicted, did you? I'll give Naomi a piece of mind if that's the case."

"No, no," you quickly reassure him with a forced smile. "My… my friend needs a place to stay for awhile, and there's a one body to one bed policy. Naomi was kind enough to let us use the couch in her office for a few days until we figure something else out."

"Your friend, hm?" His eyes twinkle mischievously. "That fellow you walked in with? Can't say I blame you. He's quite a looker."

"It's not like that," you blush, hurriedly stuffing the rest of your belongings into your bag. "Anyway, don't worry. You'll still see me around."

The man grins and gives you a friendly pat on the shoulder. "I'm glad to hear it. This place would be much drearier without you."

You bid him goodbye with a wave and make your way back to Naomi's office, feeling like you're walking towards the edge of a cliff. As you open the door, you find Jungkook staring out the window. The streetlight spills in through the gap in the curtains, bathing him in a soft glow. He turns as you enter.

"Gathered your belongings?" he asks, his voice calm as if the previous conversation never happened. For a moment, you feel robbed—does he not understand the gravity of what he said? But you suppose it's better this way. Easier, at least.

"Yes," you respond, a bit more brusquely than intended, setting your bag down on the floor. He's still staring at you, and you flush under his gaze. "I'm just going to set up the couch. And stop staring at me so intently. Humans get nervous about stuff like that."

"Another lesson," he remarks. "Understood." Jungkook watches you for a moment longer, then turns back to the window without a word.

You get to work, unfolding the couch and covering it with your bedding. The silence between you is thick; you can feel the tension radiating off of Jungkook despite his apparent calm. Your heart pounds in your ears as you busy yourself with smoothing out some wrinkles in the sheets, a futile distraction.

With a deep breath, you break the silence. "Alright, I'm done."

Jungkook turns to look, and his eyes scan the makeshift bed you've prepared. "You've made it look inviting."

"Should be okay for a few nights," you reply curtly, avoiding his gaze. "I'm, uh, gonna go ready for bed. I know you don't sleep, but feel free to sit at her desk or something. Make yourself comfortable."

You exit the room and head down the hallway to the bathroom, leaving Jungkook alone with his thoughts. You can’t shake off his confession and your own rush to deny him. The truth of your feelings, or rather the depth of them, is something you aren't ready to face.

After getting ready for bed, you hesitantly return to Naomi's office. The door creaks upon opening, and Jungkook turns from where he's seated at Naomi's desk, looking up at you with his intense gaze.

"Goodnight," you say softly, trying not to let your voice betray how uneasy you feel.

Jungkook nods. "Goodnight," he replies, and his voice is gentle, concerned. You feel a pang of guilt at the distance you've created between the two of you but say nothing more, falling into a fitful sleep.

Sometime during the night, Jungkook figured out how to work Naomi's dinosaur of a computer and discovered the wonderful thing that is the internet. When you wake, he flocks to your side like an excited child, eager to share everything he has learned about humans, their emotions, and their behavior.

"Slow down, Jungkook," you chuckle, holding up a hand to halt his barrage of words. "I can't absorb all of that at once."

"Oh," he says, blinking in surprise. "I forget that human minds process information more slowly. Should I take this as another lesson?"

You shrug, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Sure, go for it."

Despite the tension last night and everything unsaid between the two of you, you find yourself falling into an easy rhythm with him. He's eager to learn and keen on understanding humanity—your humanity. Throughout the day, he continues his studies, glued to the computer screen as you complete your daily volunteering. He takes breaks every once in a while to come find you and ask questions.

"I've come across some terms that are perplexing," he says, leaning on the front desk as you catalog some information. "'Memes' and 'emojis' appear prominently in human interactions online, but I don’t really know what they are or how they’re used.”

You answer question after question until you realize you aren’t getting work done, so you have to come up with a plan B. Leading him back to Naomi’s office, you pull up Netflix on the computer. Jungkook watches the screen in fascination as you explain streaming and scroll through all the shows.

"Let's try Friends," you say, clicking on the thumbnail.

You leave him to watch as you finish up your tasks for the day, checking occasionally to see that he’s still engrossed in the show. Instead of constantly badgering you with questions, he writes them on a notepad you provided and waits until the end of the day to go over them with you. You answer each one as best you can, completely endeared by him.

It's during one of the show's more depressing moments that he asks you about lying and betrayal, echoing the heavy undertones from the other day. His question takes you by surprise, his gaze focused intensely on your face as he waits for an answer.

"Lying is a tough one," you say, trying to keep your voice steady. "Sometimes it's out of fear or selfishness. Sometimes people lie because they're trying to protect themselves."

"And betrayal?" Jungkook asks, his voice unnaturally calm.

You sigh, looking down at your hands. "Betrayal… it's when someone breaks your trust. It hurts, Jungkook. It hurts a lot."

He watches you for several long moments before finally speaking again. "I see," he says softly. "And that's what you thought I did to you?"

You swallow hard, feeling the knot in your chest tighten. "Jungkook," you start, but falter, not knowing how to put your feelings into words.

"I did not mean to betray you," Jungkook continues. "I realize that my actions may have led you to believe that I deceived you, but it was not my intention. I'm sorry."

"I know." You believe him completely, but the wound is still so fresh that you can’t bring yourself to fully trust him again. Not yet. "I know you didn't mean to, but an apology doesn't fix everything. Consider it another lesson—trust, once broken, isn't so easily mended."

Jungkook plays with the skin around his nails, an anxious habit he seems to be developing the more human-like he becomes. After a moment, he says, "I understand. I will try harder."

"Try harder doing what?"

"To understand you better. To understand all humans more, their emotions and their beliefs. Maybe understanding what trust really is will teach me how to earn it back and make up for my mistakes." He's so earnest, so genuine, it almost brings tears to your eyes. "I think I want this as much as I want Namsu to answer for his crimes, if not more. And maybe that makes little sense, but maybe… maybe that's quite human of me."

"And maybe that's progress," you say softly, looking at Jungkook with newfound hope.

Your new normal is spending your days with your time split between performing your volunteering duties and teaching Jungkook all about human life.

Christmas is only a week away now, and everyone around you seems to be buzzing with excitement. At this point, even the inside of the shelter has been decorated. The hallways are lined with lights and garlands, and the common areas even have a few trees set up with donated presents underneath. And, as much as you have dreaded the holiday, you can't deny that watching Jungkook experience it for the first time makes you hate it a little less.

Despite the initial stiffness that comes with being an angel unfamiliar with human life, he has quickly adapted to life at the shelter. He's kind and patient, and he’s always eager to help out where he can. The children, in particular, have taken a liking to him. He's become their favorite storyteller and always has the kids hanging onto his every word.

One afternoon, you find him sitting with them, singing a song in an ancient celestial language. Everyone will assume it’s some gibberish language he’s made up for one of his stories, but it reminds you of home. His voice is beautiful, melodic and soothing, with a honeyed quality to it that would make anyone stop and listen.

You stand in the doorway and watch, a smile tugging at your lips. He catches your eye and winks, the action so human and unexpected that it startles a laugh out of you. The children turn to see what's so funny, but you just shake your head, telling them to continue listening.

He comes to you when he finishes, smiling brightly. "Did you enjoy the song as well?"

"I did," you reply truthfully, your heart fluttering at his attention. The feelings you have been trying to resist are becoming increasingly persistent the more time you spend with him.

"That's good to hear.”

Suddenly, the kids clamor over to you both, giggling and pointing at something above you. You look up, and all the color drains from your face. Mistletoe. Who the hell put it here?

Jungkook looks between you and the mistletoe, obviously confused. “Why are you angry with that plant? It’s quite beautiful.”

“It’s a tradition, of sorts.” You say the word with disdain. “When a couple—not that we are one—walks under the mistletoe, they’re supposed to kiss.”

“Kiss?”

“We don’t have to, it’s stupid—”

“No, let’s do it. It's a part of the human experience, right? Let's consider it another lesson."

Heat rushes to your face, and you stutter incoherently, looking around the room for a way to escape. But the children are watching expectantly, their eyes wide and eager. You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Alright… close your eyes," you tell him.

He listens obediently, his eyes fluttering closed. You had never noticed just how long and pretty his eyelashes were until now. Bracing yourself, you take a deep breath and lean in, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. When you pull back, you're greeted with a perplexed expression as he opens his eyes.

"That was nice," he says after a brief pause. "But that’s really what a kiss is? In the show, they did it a bit more like—"

He leans in to demonstrate what he means, his lips brushing against yours. It's soft and a bit awkward at first, but he quickly gets the hang of it, pulling you closer. Against your better judgment, you let him, allowing yourself to get lost in the moment. His lips are softer than you would have expected. His fingers lightly squeeze your waist, sending a jolt of electricity through your body, and it's not until you hear some of the children giggling that you are reminded you have an audience.

You quickly pull away, breathless and flushed with embarrassment. Jungkook, however, is grinning from ear to ear. "That," he says. "That is how they did it."

"Again! Again!" one of the kids shouts, pulling at your arm.

Jungkook chuckles at his enthusiasm. "I think we should get back to our story," he says, ruffling the boy’s hair lovingly. Then, turning back to you, he murmurs, "Thank you. For the lesson."

You can barely speak coherently, but you manage to squeak out a small “you’re welcome” before rushing out of the room. How on Earth are you supposed to get your tasks done now? It's impossible to focus, your mind running in circles over his touch, the feel of his lips against yours.

When you return to Naomi’s office later that night, you’re relieved to see that Jungkook isn't there yet. You take a moment to sit on the edge of the bed and process your thoughts, your fingers tracing absentmindedly over your lips. A shiver passes through your body, a heat blooming in the pit of your stomach. You drop your hand, clenching it into a fist to stop the trembling.

"Nervous?" a voice asks, startling you out of your thoughts. Jungkook is standing in the doorway, watching you with an unreadable expression.

"I… no," you say.

"Don't lie," he chides gently, sitting next to you on the bed. “I can tell when you do that now, you know.” He keeps to a respectful distance, but he turns his gaze to you. “I think I'm starting to really understand this human thing. Emotions and all that.”

"Is that so?"

"Yes. They can be painful sometimes but also quite beautiful."

You watch as he turns his gaze back towards the room, and silence stretches between you again. However, it’s different now from how it used to be; it's not awkward or unsettling, but comfortable. His vulnerability makes you want to be honest, to admit to the way you feel.

Just as you’re about to say something, he continues, "But now it's time for me to learn about something else. I need to start strategizing for the coming confrontation."

"Right, Namsu," you say. You almost forgot about Jungkook’s original intentions. You clap your hands and get up, heading to the computer. "Alright. Let's research."

With Jungkook sufficiently prepared, the time soon comes for him to return to the celestial realm. However, he insists on leaving at night, so he can spend the day with you. He referred to it as "a date," and you practically tripped over your own feet, much to his enjoyment. He has certainly developed a penchant for teasing you.

You decide to take him into the heart of the city, so he can observe people in their natural element. There seem to be even more decorations than you remember, and people are bustling about to finish their last-minute shopping. However, you find yourself handling the chaos a lot better with Jungkook by your side.

He hasn't let go of your hand since you stepped out of the shelter, his thumb lightly rubbing circles over your knuckles. Every once in a while, he squeezes it lightly, a silent assurance that he’s there. Whether he notices your nerves and is doing it to comfort you or is doing it because he wants to, you're grateful for it.

His doe eyes dart this way and that, eagerly drinking in the scenery. You try to explain what everything is—the office buildings, luxury apartments, and tiny shops buried in alleyways—but he's more interested in the people. It isn't until you stop in front of a Hindu temple that his attention is finally captured by a building. He cocks his head to the side, eyes wide in wonder as he takes in the sight of it. The temple is a beautiful structure, with elaborate carvings and statues lining its walls.

"What is this place?" he asks, his voice full of awe.

"It's a place of worship for those that practice Hinduism," you explain.

His eyes sparkle with interest as he takes a step closer to the building. "Can we go inside?"

You glance at him, surprised by his request. But something in his earnest gaze breaks down your hesitation. "Sure," you say softly, leading him inside.

The inside of the temple is even more impressive than the outside. There are vibrant murals depicting different gods and an intoxicating scent of incense that fills the air. You gesture to the bell at the entrance. “Would you like to ring it?”

“What’s it for?” he asks, picking it up gently.

“It’s supposed to be a way to announce your arrival to the deities.”

Jungkook shakes it, the twinkling of the bell echoing in the large room. “Pretty,” he remarks as he places it back where it belongs.

He then follows your lead as you move towards the main shrine, your heart pounding in your chest as you realize what you're about to do. An angel of the Christian God at the altar of a different one? You're almost afraid you'll be struck down where you stand.

He takes in the offerings with a small smile. "It's all quite beautiful," he remarks. "It's a shame that their gods aren't real."

You know Jungkook means no harm and that it is what he has been conditioned to think for thousands of years, but you still bristle at his easy dismissal of their beliefs. “We’re real. Our God is real. Who’s to say the gods of their religion are not?”

"There is one God. That is what we were taught."

"Yes, it is. But we were also led to believe the withering was real. Just because it is said does not mean that it is true.”

Jungkook is silent for a moment, eyes still fixed on the offerings. Then he turns to you. "You truly believe that?"

"I don't know," you confess, feeling a little exposed. “I don't know what I believe anymore. I'm just… questioning. It's complicated."

"You have given me a lot to think about," he admits, his tone quiet. “For all I know, you might be right. I shouldn't have dismissed their beliefs so easily. I apologize.”

You stare at him in surprise; you hadn't expected him to back down so easily. "It's okay," you reassure him. "I'd say being open-minded is another lesson, but unfortunately, not all humans are."

You continue to walk around the city, introducing Jungkook to as many things as possible. Everything he does fills you with affection, whether it be him trying hot dogs from a street vendor and declaring them divine, or joining some kids who were playing soccer in a park. At one point, he kicks the ball so hard that it lands in a tree branch, and you can’t help but laugh as he clumsily climbs up to retrieve it.

When night falls, you end up at the pier, watching the shimmering water beneath the stars. Jungkook is oddly quiet, looking out at the horizon with a distant expression. The silence isn't uncomfortable, but it does leave you feeling a little uneasy. You reach for his hand, and he startles slightly before turning to look at you.

"Penny for your thoughts?" you ask.

He smiles slightly. “I’m guessing that’s some sort of human expression, and you’re not actually going to give me a penny.”

“You would be correct.”

“I’m thinking about a lot of things.” He exhales as if letting out a breath he has been holding. "You, for one. But I'm always thinking of you so that much isn't a surprise." You blush and swat at his arm. "But I’m also thinking about my beliefs."

"What about them?"

He takes a moment to get his thoughts in order, grabbing your hand more tightly as if you're his anchor in a stormy sea. He answers your question with another. "What if everything we have been taught is wrong? I mean, we have never spoken with the Almighty directly. Angels, apostles, they can all take His words and twist them for their own purposes. We've seen it in action with Namsu, and with how the Bible has been changed to promote hatred."

You're taken aback by his frankness, the depth of his vulnerability. You have no answers for him, but you can relate to him and offer what little understanding you have come to have.

"So maybe it is wrong, and things have gotten taken out of context or changed as the years have gone on. Like you said, we cannot talk to Him, so we can’t ask for the truth. Or, maybe it is all part of a bigger plan, and unwavering faith is the answer.” You pause, steeling your resolve, before continuing, “But it isn’t for me. I can’t live that way. But how you decide to live is your choice. Who you are is your choice. I cannot decide that for you, and neither can He.”

He frowns. "I don't know how to make that choice. Who even am I? What am I without my purpose? Without Him?"

"Perhaps we're not defined by a single purpose we've been given," you answer quietly. "Maybe we're more than that."

"More than our purpose?"

"Yeah," you say, a soft smile tugging at your lips. "Maybe we don't need a purpose. Maybe it's okay to just exist."

Jungkook’s gaze turns thoughtful, considering your words as if they are the most precious thing in the world. "Just exist," he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper. After a moment, he stands up, looking at you with a newfound fire blazing in his eyes. "I need to return. I will talk to some of my confidants, gather information, and then confront Namsu."

You knew it was coming, but your stomach still drops. You're scared for him, for what will happen when he leaves. But you see the determination in his eyes, the steel in his gaze. You know better than to try and stop him now.

"You'll be careful, right?" you ask, your voice shaking slightly.

"I will."

He pulls you up and envelops you in his arms. His embrace is comforting, protective, and for a brief moment, it makes you forget about all your worries.

"Promise me," you whisper into his chest.

"I promise," he says, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your back. He pulls away after a moment, but not before brushing his lips against your temple. "I will return. For you."

His words weigh heavy in the air as he pulls away fully, breaking the physical contact between you two. His gaze lingers on you for another moment before he turns away and disappears into the night. You're left standing on the pier alone, the cold wind making you shiver. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you head back to Lost Star, where you have nothing to do but wait.

It’s Christmas Eve before you know it. The holiday you have been dreading feels even worse with Jungkook’s absence, and frankly, you don’t know how to handle it. You plaster a smile on your face for the sake of the children, playing along with their excitement over what presents they are going to get and stories of Santa Claus. But every time someone brings Jungkook up, wondering where he is, you feel tempted to run to Naomi’s office and hide.

Speaking of Naomi, she has been keeping a close watch over you, mothering you as per usual. You know she can tell that something has happened. Once you step away from the festivities to do some of your work, she pulls you aside.

“Honey, what’s going on? These days you seem so out of it; you’re just flitting around room to room, acting like a ghost.” When you don’t answer, she frowns. “It’s because of that boy, isn’t it?”

"He… he needed to go home. He had some things he needed to figure out," you manage to say. It's not a lie, just an oversimplification of the truth.

She wraps an arm around you. "He's going to come back. I saw the way he looked at you, and you at him. And if he doesn't, well, screw him."

"Naomi!"

"Sorry, sorry. He was sweet and all, but you're my girl. I'll always have your back." Naomi declares, patting you on the back.

You accept her comfort, fighting back your tears. If only she knew your fear didn’t revolve around him coming back—of course, part of you is scared that something will happen to him, but the rational part of your brain, the part that knows his strength, has no doubts he'll be alright. In actuality, your biggest fear is that he won't be able to stay with you, and you’ll have to go through the pain of losing him all over again.

He's an angel. You're human. There's no future there. Your traitorous heart made you fall harder and harder for him without sparing that a moment's thought, and now you have to will yourself to accept that you'll always be in love with someone you cannot have.

The rest of the day passes in a blur, nothing but forced cheer and mindless chatter. Naomi sticks by your side as much as she can, making sure to redirect everyone who asks you questions about Jungkook. You're grateful for her presence, her constant support, and now more than ever, you realize how lucky you truly are to have her in your life.

As soon as everyone is in bed and your tasks for the day are done, you seek out the solitude of the pier once again. You've been coming here daily since he left. A sentimental thing, mostly, since it was the last place you saw him. But you also hope each night will be the night he returns.

The wind is strong tonight, the kind that chills you down to your bones, and the stars are hidden behind the clouds. You wrap your scarf more tightly around yourself, gazing aimlessly at the turbulent water. Suddenly, there's a bright light and a shrill noise. You aren't scared this time, and it's not nearly as overwhelming as it was. He must have tempered it somehow, made it less painful for you.

The light fades, leaving behind a figure that is unmistakably Jungkook. The sight of him fills you with such relief and happiness that you rush forward, throwing your arms around him. He envelops you in his arms, his wings folding around you, a sigh of contentment escaping his lips as he buries his face in your hair.

"I missed you very much," he says, breathing deeply.

"I missed you too," you whisper, tears prickling at your eyes. "I knew you'd come back."

"I said I would, didn't I?" he teases, pulling away just enough to look at you. "And I have news."

"What happened?"

You stay locked in his embrace as he speaks, bringing one of your hands to his face to stroke his cheek, to follow the line of his jaw with your fingers. He lets you, as eager to feel your touch as you are to feel his.

"I confronted Namsu," he begins. "But I wasn't alone. There were other angels who had started the 'degradation' process, those who were too fearful of retribution to say anything. I told them everything, and we confronted the other Thrones about Namsu and everything he had done. They didn’t approve of his actions, and they punished him for it."

"Really?" You ask, eyes wide with surprise. "Just like that? They believed you?"

A soft laugh bubbles up from him. "It wasn't quite that simple. There was plenty of arguing, plenty of disbelief. I’d never seen anything like it. But in the end, Namsu was banished from the celestial realm."

Relief washes over you at his words, the tension you hadn't even realized you were carrying leaving your body. "That's incredible.”

Jungkook shrugs slightly, but there’s an unmistakable look of pride in his eyes. "I’m just glad he has gotten what he deserves. Now you have justice." He places a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"And what about the others? The ones who have started to degrade?" Your heart clenches at the thought of them being punished for something beyond their control.

"They're safe," Jungkook assures you quickly. "The Thrones have promised to take care of it all. They're going to convene with Him, to see if the Heavenly teachings can be altered. Things are changing up there; I think it's all going to be alright."

You're overwhelmed with emotion, both relief and dread tugging at you simultaneously. It is good to know that things will be changing, but what is done to you has been done. And now, Jungkook has no reason to stay with you. You take a step back from him.

"What about you?" you ask quietly, barely daring to meet his gaze.

"What about me?"

"You have no reason to stay anymore. You can return to your normal duties. You did what was right, and everything is fixed."

"I did what was right, yes, and I'm sure things will be much better from now on," Jungkook agrees. But he steps forward, taking your hands in his and looking deep into your eyes. "But now, I need to do what's right for me."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, my star." Your heart stutters at the endearment. "I'm not going anywhere. I want to be with you."

"But… you can only do that if you're—"

"Human, yes," he interrupts.

"Jungkook! You can't! You can't Fall for me," you half-shout, half-whisper. "You're a good angel, you—"

"Y/N." The force behind his voice stops you. "Even before you showed me the beauty of being human, before I knew how to feel, before I even knew what love was, I would have done anything for you.” His confession takes your breath away, and you wobble on your feet, moving a few steps back from him in your shock. “If you had simply asked it of me, I would have stood with you in the fires of hell for all eternity and still been grateful for each moment spent at your side."

The tears you were holding back begin to fall. "You would have?"

“I would. I can. I will.” He moves closer to you with each beat between words until he stands directly in front of you, only a hair's breadth away. Gently, hesitantly—as if for the first time—he takes your hand and presses it to his chest right above where a human heart would be. “Just say the words, and I will fall for you. I will forsake myself and turn my back on Heaven. The pain of losing my wings will be inconsequential compared to the pain of having to be without you.”

"W-what words?"

He smiles, eyes crinkling at the edges. "You know what I want to hear. Be honest. Even better, be selfish, like a human. Tell me what you really want, and I will oblige."

You hesitate. You have been fighting your feelings this entire time, so sure of the fact that Jungkook would choose to continue his life as an angel. You never wanted him to Fall for you, to be torn away from the life he has always known the way you were. But he deserves to make the choice himself. If he wants your honesty, you will give it to him.

"Speak, Y/N," Jungkook urges, his gaze never leaving yours.

"I want…" You begin slowly, your voice barely a whisper. "I want you. I want you to stay with me." He grins, relief clear in his eyes. "Then I will."

"But you shouldn't have to Fall!"

"Fall or not, it won't change anything," he assures you. "I chose this path before even knowing there was a choice. I chose you from the second we were created.”

"Even if that means giving up everything?" you ask.

Jungkook’s expression softens. He reaches up and tucks a wayward lock of hair behind your ear. "Does it seem like I’m giving up everything?" he muses aloud, his eyes never leaving yours. "Because from where I stand, it seems like I’m gaining everything.”

"Smooth-talker,” you laugh, a tear slipping down your cheek. He brushes it off with his thumb, his gaze softening even further.

For a moment, you just stand there, looking at each other. It's quiet except for your breathing and the sound of waves crashing against the pier. You have been so afraid of asking him to make this choice, and yet he seems so certain about it, as if it was what he wanted all along.

"Are you sure about this?" you ask him one more time, seeking reassurance. "Once done, there's no going back."

His answer is immediate, "I've never been more sure about anything in my life."

"This will change everything," you say again.

"I know," he replies simply.

"Come find me when it's over," you whisper, placing a gentle kiss to his lips. "I'll be at the shelter."

As you go to leave, you can't help but glance back over your shoulder at Jungkook, taking in the appearance of him and his wings one last time. He's still standing there, watching you go with love evident in his gaze. It quells some of your worries. And then you blink, and he’s gone.

The hours that creep by feel like days. You busy yourself with meaningless tasks, cleaning the office, flipping through an old book left on the table, scrolling TikTok. None of it does anything to dull your anxiety, and you're weighing the pros and cons of tearing your hair out before you finally hear a knock on the door. You shoot up to your feet, heart pounding in your chest. Slowly, you open the door, and there he stands. "I'm here," he says simply. "As I promised."

You pull him into a hug once again, burying your head into his chest. You can hear the beat of his human heart and, unable to stop yourself, you burst into tears. You know the pain he just went through, can remember experiencing it yourself like it was yesterday, and you can hardly believe he went through something so awful to be with you.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, tightening your hold on him. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," he coos, gently stroking your hair. "This was my choice."

You swallow hard and pull back from him so you can look into his eyes, searching for any sign of regret. You find none.

"Are you okay?" You ask anyway, your heart aching at the thought of what he has given up.

"I am," he assures, his voice full of conviction. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss against your lips, and when he pulls away, he's smiling. "I wondered if doing that would feel different now that I'm fully human."

"And does it?" you ask, smiling back up at him.

"Yes," he admits, tracing an invisible line down your cheek, your neck, your collarbone. You shiver at his touch. "It feels more real. Stronger somehow. It's like you're the break of dawn after a long night."

Your breath catches in your throat. "Being human certainly hasn't changed the fact that you have a way with words."

"Only when it comes to you," he replies, his fingers never ceasing their journey across your skin. They make their way back to your waist, where he plays with the hem of your shirt. "There's one lesson we never covered, you know."

"A-and what would that be?" you squeak as his fingers caress the smooth skin of your stomach.

His voice drops lower, and he tugs you closer by your belt loops. "Human intimacy."

You flush at his audacity but don't pull away. "And what would be the best way for me to teach you about that?"

"Hm…" He leans down so that his lips hover over yours, and you can feel his warm breath with each word he speaks. "I think I would respond well to some hands-on practice."

Your heartbeat thunders in your ears as his lips press against yours in a slow, searing kiss that turns your knees to jelly. He takes his time exploring your mouth, his lips moving delicately against yours. His hands are warm on your skin, trailing up and down your back as he pulls you closer.

"Then I suppose we should get started," you manage to whisper when you finally break apart, breathless.

Jungkook moves into the room, closing the door behind him, and sits down on the edge of the pull-out bed. He stares up at you, his once-innocent doe eyes now dark and hooded with desire. You float towards him as if being pulled by a magnet, and he pulls you down so that you’re straddling his lap. Your hands rest on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your touch.

"I think I should warn you," he says, hands sliding down to rest right above the curve of your ass, "I might be a slow learner."

You roll your eyes, a short, playful chuckle escaping from your lips. "I think I can handle that."

The room fills with an easy silence as you continue to explore each other, experiencing sensations new for the both of you. His hands trace every curve and dip of your body, his touch curious yet surprisingly confident. Your fingers trace the lines of his face, his jaw, his chest, and then find their way under his shirt to the newly-formed scars on his back. They are rough against your fingertips, a stark contrast to the rest of his smooth skin.

"You aren't in pain?”

“No,” he assures you, his hands sliding to a similar position on your own back. "Were you for long after?"

"No, but I'm still worried," you smile sheepishly.

He laughs and kisses your nose. "Don't be. Don't feel like you have to be gentle with me. I won't break."

You laugh in return, your eyes twinkling with delight and a touch of mischief. "Is that a challenge, Jungkook?"

He hums in response, his gaze never leaving yours. "Maybe."

His teasing reply only spurs you on. Rising to the bait, you lean in to kiss him, this time with a boldness that leaves him momentarily stunned. But he recovers quickly, matching your fervor and deepening the kiss. Your hands weave into his hair, pulling him closer, and his hips jut up against you almost involuntarily. You moan at the sensation, and he stills.

"What was that?" he asks.

"That," you breathe out, "is what human intimacy sounds like."

"I want to hear it again."

His lips find yours again and this time it's deep and demanding, all teeth and tongue and the promise of what’s to come. His hands grab your waist, forcing you to grind down against him as he once again lifts his hips up to meet your core. Another moan escapes your lips, the sound quickly swallowed by his hungry mouth. He tugs at the hem of your shirt, his fingertips skimming against the skin of your lower back. Eagerly, you lift your arms, and he pulls it off over your head.

"Jungkook…" you whimper, clutching at his shoulders. He responds by nuzzling into your neck, his hot breath making you shiver with pleasure.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs against the curve of your neck, his lips tracing the column of your throat, down to your chest.

He places a gentle kiss above each breast before descending lower still, sucking one into his mouth. His lips and tongue move expertly, drawing gasps from you as your nerves ignite with pleasure. His hands are firm on your waist, holding you securely against him as he devotes himself entirely to exploring the new terrain, and you grind against him wantonly. You can feel that your panties are soaked with the proof of your desire.

"Jungkook," you say again, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. His name is a plea, a prayer. "I need more."

He pulls back, his lips swollen from his ministrations. "And so I'll give it to you."

You eagerly crawl off of him, shimmying out of your jeans, before settling with your back against the pillows. You grab at the air, beckoning him closer. He does the same, now only in his boxers, and slots himself on top of you, his bare skin against yours intensifying the burning desire coursing through your veins. His hard length presses against your core, and you whine.

"I don't know what I'm doing," he admits in a low voice, his hot breath fanning against your face as his eyes search yours for assurance.

You reach up, caressing his cheek. "It's okay," you soothe him, your hands then trailing down his back to rest on his hips, encouraging him closer. "We'll figure it out together."

His lips find your neck as his hands explore every inch of you, his rough fingers exploring the softness of your flesh. He slides one down over your stomach and lower still, feather-light touches teasing you until you're gasping beneath him. His fingers trace the edge of your panties before sliding the fabric down. You lift your hips, aiding him in removing the last barrier between you. He tosses them aside before returning his attention to you, his fingers skimming along your trembling thighs. His fingers move gradually, inching steadily upward until he's touching you where you're most sensitive. You let out a soft gasp, gripping the sheets.

"Is this okay?" he asks. You nod eagerly, unable to get the words out, and he chuckles, placing a gentle kiss at the base of your throat. "Good."

Always the over-achiever, he slides down your body until his face is level with your core, focusing intently on his work. His fingers move with a slow, calculated rhythm that quickly has you dripping for him. Eventually, he slips one of his fingers inside of you. Your breath hitches, your hands clutching at his shoulders for support.

"Am I doing this right?" he asks, uncertainty creeping into his voice as he looks up at you from between your thighs.

"You must be," you gasp out, encouraging him with a roll of your hips. "Don't stop."

Grinning, he adds a second finger, working you open until you're panting and squirming beneath him. Your back arches off the bed as his fingers work their magic, curling in just the right way that has you seeing stars. Praise tumbles from your lips, but you're sure that it just sounds like nonsense, your thoughts too muddled to form coherent words.

"You're so wet," he murmurs in a low, gravelly voice that only adds fuel to your desire.

Without warning, he lowers his mouth to your core, his lips and tongue joining his exploring fingers. The sensation is electric; your breath hitches, and an animalistic moan escapes you. He takes it as a sign of encouragement, doubling his efforts. Your fingers find their way to his hair, threading into the dark strands, seeking purchase. You can't help but pull, and he moans against you, the vibrations only furthering your pleasure.

"Jungkook," you warn, "I'm—"

A coil of white heat tightens within you before snapping. His name slips from your lips as you climax, sparks dancing behind your eyelids as he continues to pleasure you, eagerly lapping up your release. He doesn't stop, not until you physically pull him away from you, body shaking with overstimulation. He climbs back up your body, his lips finding yours in a gentle kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips.

"You okay?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

His pupils are blown out with desire, his hair slicked back with sweat, and he's so attractive that just the sight of him has you clenching your thighs together.

You nod, cupping his face in your hands. "More than okay," you assure him. "That was amazing. Now," you slide your fingers down his chest, sliding over the waistband of his boxers. "Let's see what we can do about you."

You hook your thumbs around the fabric and pull them downwards, and he does the rest of the work, kicking them off. You reach down, your fingers tentatively wrapping around his cock. He gasps, his head falling forward against your chest as you begin to stroke him with a slow, measured rhythm.

He nearly whines, his grip tightening on your hips. "That feels… I can't…" His words dissolve into soft, broken moans as you continue to work him over.

Suddenly overtaken with need, you stop, pulling him in for another searing kiss. "I need you inside of me, Jungkook," you gasp against his lips, "Please."

Your hand guides him back to your core, and his breath hitches. “Are you ready?”

Nodding, you lift your hips to meet him. He pushes into you carefully, slowly, each inch an intense sensation for both of you. Your body clenches around him as if welcoming him home, a strangled moan escaping your lips. One of his hands clasps yours, bringing it to rest on the side of your head while he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his heavy breaths fanning your skin. He's shaking against you, and you feel just as overwhelmed.

You squeeze the hand that's holding yours, urging him on. "You're okay," you whisper, "I'm okay. Move."

He nods, pulling out almost all the way before thrusting back inside of you. Your body jolts at the sensation, gasping his name over and over.

"You feel incredible," he breathes out, the statement more for himself than for you. “So perfect.” Your fingers thread through his hair once more, pulling him down to meet your lips.

His hips set a steady rhythm, filling the room with soft sounds of skin on skin and heavy panting. He lets out a low groan as he adjusts his angle, hitting a spot inside of you that has you crying out and grabbing at him wherever you can reach. You wrap your legs around his waist, throwing your head back against the pillows.

"That's it," you whine, "Right there. It feels so good—"

Your words cut off into a choked moan as he thrusts into you at that exact spot again and again, his movements becoming more erratic. He's close—you can tell by the way his body tenses and how he gasps desperately into your mouth.

"I'm… I'm—" he stammers out, breath hitching between each word.

"I know," you gasp out, meeting him thrust for thrust. "Me too."

You pull him as close as possible, holding him to you as you both chase your release. Your eyes squeeze shut, and your nails dig into his skin as a wave of pleasure crashes over you, even more intense than the last. You moan his name as you come, shuddering beneath him. He moans into your neck as he follows you over the edge, his hips bucking uncontrollably as he buries himself deep inside you.

He collapses on top of you, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his heavy breathing tickling your skin. He stays there, nestled inside of you, his heart pounding against your chest, matching the rapid rhythm of your own. You feel dizzy, your senses overwhelmed by him—his scent, his taste, the feel of him on top of you and within you. You caress his back, slowly tracing the contours of his scars with gentle strokes, the action soothing for both of you.

Eventually, he shifts, carefully pulling himself out of you and collapsing onto his back next to you. His hand searches blindly for yours, lacing your fingers together once he finds it. He brings your joined hands up to his lips and places a soft kiss on your knuckles.

"Is… are you…" He lifts his head to meet your eyes, unable to form words.

"I'm more than okay," you assure him softly, brushing a stray lock of hair off his forehead.

"Good," he whispers, a contented sigh escaping him.

His eyes roam over your face once more before closing, his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly. Together, you lay there under the sheets, and the silence goes on for so long that you almost think he fell asleep.

Then suddenly, you hear him say, voice barely above a whisper, "I love you." You look over to see him staring up at you with adoration in his gaze and a soft smile on his lips. "I know I don't have to say it since surely there can be no doubt that everything I have done for you is out of love. But I want to say it anyway. I want to continue saying it for the rest of my life. I have loved you since before I even had the capacity to feel it, and I will continue to love you until time ceases to exist."

His confession leaves you breathless, and you can do little but turn on your side, grab his face, and place a gentle kiss on his lips. Tears prick at the corner of your eyes, threatening to spill down your cheeks.

"I love you too, Jungkook," you whisper against his lips, "So very, very much."

He lets out an audible sigh of relief as if he had been holding his breath, waiting for your response. His free hand reaches out to caress your cheek, wiping away a tear that had managed to escape. "I knew you would say so, but I'm happy to hear it all the same."

The two of you get ready for bed, and, for the first time since commandeering Naomi’s office, you fall asleep together in each other's arms.

The day you have been dreading has arrived—Christmas. Despite your initial hatred, however, you find yourself actually participating in the festivities around the shelter. Just like as many others do, you aren't going to consider it a holy day. You're going to use it as an excuse to be happy and spend time with your loved ones.

You join the group of children who sit by the pile of gifts, their excitement palpable as they eagerly wait for Naomi to declare it time to open them. Small hands tug at Jungkook’s sleeve, pulling him down to their level as they bombard him with questions about where he's been. He settles down amongst them, answering their questions as honestly as he can. His eyes meet yours over the sea of eager faces, and he stretches out a hand towards you, inviting you to join him. You sit right on his lap, making some of the kids giggle.

"Alright, everyone, it's time!" Naomi's voice echoes through the shelter, immediately quieting the children down.

As each name is called out and the kids scramble to collect their gifts, you can't help but smile. The pure delight on their faces is infectious. Noticing your happiness, Jungkook pulls you back so that you’re leaning against his chest, his arms wrapping around your waist.

He places a gentle kiss on your neck, murmuring, "You seem happy."

"I am," you say, placing your hands over his. "The holidays aren't so bad with you around."

"I'm glad." He turns your head so he can place a quick kiss on your lips, one that is light and soft and sweet, full of love. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Jungkook," you echo, smiling brightly.

Later, Naomi corners the two of you, pulling you aside. "I've been thinking about what to give you," she says. "I—"

"Naomi, you don't have to give me anything!"

"Don't interrupt me," she scolds, but there's no bite behind it. "Like I was saying, I was thinking it over, and I realized that the best gift I could offer is not anything material. From tomorrow on, you will officially be a supervisor. A paid supervisor."

Your eyes widen in surprise, and you glance at Jungkook, who is beaming at you with pride. You turn back to Naomi, stuttering out a response.

"B-but Naomi, I couldn't possibly—"

"Yes, you can," she interrupts, her tone firm. "From the day you arrived here, you have been working as hard as any of us. You deserve this." Before you can argue any further, she thrusts a small envelope into your hands. "Consider it an early Christmas gift and your first paycheck. And my office? It's yours."

"Thank you, Naomi," you manage, your voice choked with emotion. You pull her into a hug, hoping it can express everything you don't know how to say.

She pats your back, chuckling. "If anything, it's an excuse for me to take some time off. I'm getting old and need to start sharing the burden. Don't expect it to be a walk in the park!"

You pull away, wiping a stray tear from your eye. "Of course not. I'm ready to be worked to the bone, ma'am."

"That's what I like to hear," she comments, her voice carrying an undertone of pride. She turns to Jungkook, her gaze soft but words sharp. "Take care of her, will you?"

"Always," he replies without a moment's hesitation, which earns him a small nod from Naomi.

Eventually, the celebrations wind down and people start to retreat to their beds until only you and Jungkook remain. Instead of doing the same, you decide to return to the pier and watch the water for a bit, not ready for the day to end. The two of you walk in comfortable silence, hands linked tightly as if promising not to let go.

Sitting at the edge of the pier, Jungkook wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. His body heat seeps into your skin, fighting away the cold, and you rest your head on his chest, letting his strong, steady heartbeat lull you into contentment.

"Who would've thought we would end up here?" you reflect, staring out at the ocean.

Jungkook laughs softly, his chest rumbling beneath your ear. "I don't think either of us could have predicted this."

"I never thought I would be happy that any of this happened, but I am. Are you?"

His gaze softens as he takes in the sight of you. "More than I could possibly put into words," he admits.

"Will you miss it, though? Heaven?"

"I thought I would," he says, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. "But Earth has its own kind of heaven. You're here. Naomi is here. The children are here. I have so much more yet to discover, to experience." His gaze returns to you, eyes soft and full of love. "How could I miss anything when I have all of this?”

Your heart swells at his words, his declaration warming you like nothing else could. You reach up to cup his face, your fingers lightly brushing his lips. His eyes flutter shut for a moment at your touch before opening again to hold your gaze.

"You're right," you whisper, your voice barely carrying over the sound of the waves. "This is our heaven. Here, with each other. And who knows, maybe we'll end up back there someday."

"You think?" Jungkook asks, raising an eyebrow. "I must say, I'm a little surprised hearing that from you. I didn't think you had faith anymore or wanted it for that matter."

You shrug. "Honestly, I don't know. I don't have my original beliefs anymore, that's for sure, but I don't resent it all like I once did, either. I think I've just found a new kind of faith. A faith in myself, in people, in goodness, and in love. There are so many different kinds of religions out there, and at their core, they're all about trying to understand the world around us, trying to find ways to cope and move forward. I think that's what I'm doing now, in my own way."

"That's beautiful," Jungkook says, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "Somehow both simple and complex. Just like life itself, I suppose."

"And what about you, Jungkook?” you ask, pecking him on the lips. How will you move forward?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure, either. But I think I'm happy to find out, as long as it's with you."

You hold each other close, each hoping your touch can express what no words could possibly convey. Love. Gratitude. Hope. The promise of a shared journey. What more could you possibly ask for?

TAGLIST: @yessa-vie

#jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook angst #jeon jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenarios #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #bts au #jungkook au #my fic #collab

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wileys-russo · 10 months

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elf on a shelf II a.russo & l.williamson x reader

lil christmas fic number two! psa; just because i write this does not mean i ship them irl elf on a shelf II a.russo & l.williamson x reader

"woah! someone's speedy today, what's wrong then? where's the missus's?" katie was quick to snag you as you stormed into the dressing room, throwing your bag down with a scowl.

"if they've half a brain between them as far away from me as they can get!" you warned, shrugging off your friends arm and dropping down by your cubby to change into your boots.

having driven yourself this morning after a particularly nasty row with the blondes who shared your heart you'd stormed out of the house without a single look back, shocked you'd not copped a speeding ticket with how heavy your foot fell on the accelerator, determined to get as far away from the two girls as possible.

"oi! none of that pissy little attitude with me thanks. tell us what happened then." katie warned lightly, sitting down beside you and knocking her knee against yours as you sighed and dragged your hands down your face, starting to recount where it had all started.

if you were to know just how far things were going to go, you'd have never ever even considered getting that stupid little elf.

everything had been laid into motion last week when you'd seen a few tiktoks of adorable elf on the shelf ideas. never having really given them much consideration before you had thought it might be an opportunity for some cute christmas cheer around the house.

not that it needed much more. between you, alessia and leah all three of you had decorated your shared home extensively for the holiday season.

as you had prepared for there was the usual arguments around the tree, the worst of them being who got to choose the theme and who got to place the angel of the north of course, on top.

"what on earth is that babe?" leah had scoffed as you'd dropped it happily on the coffee table with a grin. "oo one of those elf things!" alessia had gasped happily, grabbing your hips and tugging you down onto the sofa with her.

"well its not a fucking reindeer less." leah chuckled earning herself a filthy look from the striker as you kissed her cheek with an amused smile.

"you're supposed to move them around the house and pose them to look like they're doing weird and funny stuff. it's mostly parents who do them for kids but i thought it could be cute for the three of us to take turns." you tossed your phone to leah who scrolled through a few videos with a hum.

"i think it's a great idea baby." alessia agreed, squeezing you tightly in approval. "guess it's not the worst idea you've had." leah shrugged as you kicked her ankle gently.

"sorry, it's a cute idea love. you start tonight, then less, then me." leah smiled apologetically, scooting closer and handing you back your phone, the three of you getting comfortable.

how naive you were not to know just how far things would go.

your first turn started off harmlessly, once your girlfriends had gone up to bed you spread some flour out on the counter, creating a snow angel and leaving the elf spread out in the middle, snapping a picture with a happy grin.

"oh that's so cute baby!" alessia was the first to notice it the next morning, snapping a picture and uploading it to her instagram story with a smile.

it took leah a little longer, never the most observant woman in the mornings but once she'd had a coffee she'd chuckled at the elf, wiping down the flour before the three of you needed to leave for training.

your suspicions should have peaked when you noticed kyra and vic hanging around alessia all day, seemingly always in her ear as she would nod and note something down in her phone with a grin.

her first turn the next night again was harmless, you waking up to find the elf in the fridge sat on top of a carton of eggs with a sharpie in its arms. the eggs with funny faces drawn all over them you let out a laugh which warmed the blonde's heart as she hugged you from behind.

"naughty naughty elf." she'd tutted in your ear, kissing your cheek and reaching past you to grab out a carton of juice. "really?" was leah's response once she'd spotted it, raising an eyebrow at the younger girl who shrugged.

"he must have gotten bored." alessia grinned sipping at her coffee. "yeah babe, maybe he just wanted the eggs to look their very best on their death day!" you added on, chopping up some peppers to make omelettes.

"death day? touch dark there gorgeous." alessia laughed, rinsing her mug in the sink and tapping your bum as she passed you with a wink. "the two of you are something else, why do i put up with it?" leah sighed dramatically, closing the fridge.

"think you mean why do we put up with you!" you teased, her body pressing against yours and nipping at your bottom lip before she placed a tender kiss against them. "hilarious my girl, hilarious."

for leah's turn she was a little more stumped than the two of you had been, having to do some extensive research to try and find some ideas she felt were achievable.

you'd woken up the next morning to find the elf sat on the bathroom counter with a tube of toothpaste in his hands, UTA spelled out in toothpaste on the marble top.

taking a photo and sending it in the teams group chat you rolled your eyes with an amused smile and hopped into the shower, leaving it for one of your girlfriends to clean up considering both of them were refusing to get up.

your next turn meant you'd filled up the kitchen sink with water, dropping in a bunch of goldfish crackers and propping the elf on the tap with a straw to look like he'd gone fishing.

that had gone over well with both your girls and ended up on leahs story, though having to fish out the soggy crackers from the sink had left you gagging and reconsidering the idea all together.

for alessia's she'd poked holes in a piece of toast, sticking the elf's arms and legs through and leaving it sat by the toaster with a little note stating 'it's cold outside...but i am toasty in here ;) '.

you'd found it adorable, leah less so. which had meant you'd spent the entire morning of your day off fussing over the striker who was grumpy with leah for her response, and then in turn you'd spent the afternoon placating a moody leah who'd felt ignored all day.

by dinner time they'd settled down and made up again and the three of you were curled up on the lounge eating pizza, seemingly a normal evening. until leah had to of course open her mouth and set forth the ball rolling which would eventually lead to a series of unfortunate events.

"why don't we make this elf business a bit more interesting?" the eldest between the three of you had challenged with a smug smile. "how so?" alessia raised an eyebrow, your legs draped across her lap as your top half was tucked into leah's side.

"no more posting photos. end of each rotation we show the girls and they choose whose was the best? most successful choices by the end of the month wins." leah challenged with a smirk.

"no! come on it's just supposed to be something cute for the three of us." you'd protested but it was no use. "you're on." alessia agreed with a smirk that matched leah's causing you to exhale deeply.

"why does everything have to be a competition with the two of you?"

things escalated after that to say the least. with you not wanting to compete you'd been cut from the roster all together, leah and alessia now just going night for night, too absorbed in their competitive natures to notice that it had upset you to see it turn into this.

throughout the week though the elf seemed to take on a little more of a personal vendetta against your girlfriends, the pranks going from harmless and cute to targeted.

alessia had started it by wrapping all of leah's trainers in foil and leaving the elf on top of them with a sign that said 'free shoe shining service'.

leah had countered by tying all of alessia's hoodies together tightly and stringing them from upstairs down to the christmas tree, sitting the elf on top with a candy cane as if he was sliding down them.

still alessia had won that round which leah was not impressed with. you on the other hand barely even paid their turns much attention, refusing to give them any sort of praise of acknowledgement beyond a hum or a nod, not that your vote counted for anything anyway.

it was taken up a notch when alessia had frozen leah's house keys in a block of ice overnight, sitting the elf on top with a makeshift scarf wrapped around him and a pair of tweezers in hand like a small ice pick.

that earned her an entire day of stony silence from the defender, meaning you were instead pulled back and forth between them both after your attention since they weren't receiving any from one another.

leah had once again stepped it up, laying out a bunch of alessia's makeup on the counter, smashing up an eyeshadow pallete and highlighter stick, and writing 'elf was here 2023' on the mirror in her favourite shade of lipstick. the elf in question was sprawled out on the counter with an empty bottle of wine and smeared makeup all over his face.

"leah catherine williamson!"

you'd shot up awake hearing alessia yell, rubbing your eyes and reaching around you, frowning when both sides of the bed were cold and empty. "oh what now." you mumbled tiredly at the noise of the bickering carrying from the bathroom.

"leah most of this stuff is fucking expensive you stupid idiot!" alessia seethed, gesturing wildly to the remnants of what was once her makeup on the counter. "babe i'll just buy you more, you're overreacting." leah rolled her eyes dismissively.

"no you've taken it too far! you fucking ignorant selfish moronic-" alessia struggled to think of her next words as you entered the room. "hey, lessi baby breathe." you gripped her bicep with a concerned frown, steam practically pouring out of the blondes ears.

"oh of course you take her side!" leah scoffed with a roll of her eyes as you fixed her with a stern look. "why wouldn't she? you're the one in the wrong!" alessia spat, wrapping you in a bone crushing hug and pulling your shorter body into hers possessively.

"it's a joke less! lighten up and grow a funny bone would you?" leah laughed, only fueling alessia's anger further as you quickly grabbed her face before she could explode, murmuring it wasn't worth it as the striker huffed and let go of you, storming out of the room.

"leah." you started with a disappointed sigh, crossing your arms over your chest and staring her down. "what?" the older girl rolled her eyes sitting on the edge of the bath.

"she's right lee that's too far. none of these have damaged anything." you reminded her. "she froze my keys!" leah whined with a glare. "your house keys babe, we have two extra sets. what would you do if instead of wrapping your trainers in foil she cut them up?" you challenged with a sigh, standing in between her spread legs.

"that's different! trainers are-" "expensive? but can't less just buy you more." "yeah alright you might have a point."

"clean this up and go and say sorry, sincerely. and if she doesn't want to talk to you then give her some space and apologize later." you grabbed the blondes chin, pecking her lips before leaving her behind to clean up her mess.

indeed alessia hadn't wanted to speak with leah but after a few hours of sweet words and grovelling, all seemed to be forgiven.

key emphasis on; seemed to be.

that next morning you'd woken up to yelling again, only this time the roles were reversed.

"alessia mia teresa russo you come here right now!"

"what did you do?" you shot up awake again same as yesterday, thsi time staring down at the smug looking blonde who was laid in bed beside you.

"i didn't do anything, maybe the elf was feeling naughty again." she'd mumbled with a smirk as you pinched the bridge of your nose and inhaled sharply. "alessia. what. did. you. do?" you asked firmly, poking her chest with each word.

but you didn't have a chance to hear her answer as footsteps pounded upstairs and leah flew into the room, not another word said as she grabbed your hands hauling you up and out of bed.

"leah! put me down!" you yelled in shock as suddenly you were flung over her shoulder, watching alessia sit up in bed as you were carried out of the room and downstairs, dumped suddenly on the sofa.

"look what she's done!" leah spat, pointing to a pile of clothing on the coffee table, the elf sat on a tissue box with a pair of scissors. "lee. baby i just woke up, please stop yelling at me." you sighed, closing your eyes and massaging your temples.

"look!" leah huffed, ignoring you completely as she held up shirt after shirt, all with sporadic holes cut throughout them. "oh for fuck sakes. alessia!" you called upstairs, leah continuing on her angry rant without even pausing to take a breath.

"good morning!" the younger blonde smiled happily, slinking downstairs as leah fell silent. "you've ruined half my wardrobe alessia!" she spat, lunging for the blonde as you hastily leapt up and grabbed the back of her hoodie.

"i didn't do anything, the culprits got the scissors right there." alessia shrugged pointing to the elf. "i will stab you with those scissors!" leah spat angrily as you shoved her to sit down in your previous position. "you! kitchen, now." you warned alessia pointing in the other direction as she rolled her eyes but left anyway.

"my love. deep breaths with me please, in for five and out." you started, sitting down on the blondes lap who did as you asked, calming down a little.

"i will take you both shopping this afternoon and less will buy you some new tops, and you'll replace less's makeup." you gave her a firm look as she opened her mouth to protest, eyebrows furrowing together angrily.

"fine. but i'm not sitting in a fucking car with her this morning and i'm not talking to her until she apologizes. just like i had to yesterday!" leah warned as you nodded in understanding, pecking her lips and standing up allowing her to storm off upstairs.

"alessia." you started with a sigh as you appeared in the kitchen, your other girlfriend leaning against the counter looking through her phone. "what?" she mumbled sourly, lips forming a pout.

"don't give me that, you know you went too far." you warned, pulling yourself to sit up on the island. "she started it!" the blonde moved to wiggle inbetween your legs, wrapping her arms around your torso and resting her head on your chest.

"you both started it when you agreed to make what was supposed to be a cute new tradition, into a competition!" you carded a hand through her hair with a deep sigh.

"we're going shopping after training love. you're going to buy leah new shirts and she's going to replace your makeup." you stated, a stern glare silencing the strikers protests as she nodded. both of you winced as suddenly the front door slammed close, leah's car starting in the driveway.

"you can start with an apology though lessi."

things once again seemed to calm after that, both girls ignoring the small elf for a further three days and you breathed a little easier enjoying the extra attention it meant you got from them instead.

but of course one kyra cooney cross had to open her mouth complaining about the lack of elf content with several of the girls backing her up, and you could have wrung their necks then and there, leah and alessia sharing a look across the dressing room which made your stomach lurch.

your warning them against it fell on deaf ears, their anger at one another for the mistakes of the past evaporating as they spent the afternoon teasing one another for who would win, leah having borrowed an elf off beth without your knowledge.

"thats it! i am over this. both of you leave me alone until you go to bed and i can get some peace and quiet!" you snapped as they started to go back and forth over the top of your head, shoving both of them off of you and storming to the spare bedroom.

you busied yourself with your studies for the rest of the evening, having taken a break over the holiday period considering your course was self paced.

but needing something to keep your mind off things you sprawled across the bed reading your text books, ignoring both your girlfriends attempts to coax you back out to spend time with them, the door firmly locked with the key in your pocket.

eventually having to give into how much you missed them, you snapped your books shut and padded to the bedroom. "baby!" alessia perked up at the sight of you, opening her arms expectantly as leah gave you a tired smile.

"you're both so annoying sometimes." you mumbled as you crawled into bed between them, settling into alessia's arms as leahs face tucked into your neck. "we're sorry gorgeous, we love you very very much." alessia whispered, kissing your cheek gently as leahs hand snaked up your top.

your breath hitched feeling her cold fingers trace shapes on your bare chest as alessia caught on, her lips settling on your neck as leah pushed herself up and hovered over you with a wolfish grin, suddenly wide awake.

"how about we make it up to you then baby girl?"

waking up that next morning you smiled seeing finally both of your girlfriends were in bed with you. no yelling, no arguing, no naughty little elf related disasters.

oh how wrong you were.

ignoring their half asleep grumbles for you to stay you wrenched yourself out of leah's tight hold, kissing both of their foreheads and slipping out of bed to make all three of you breakfast before training.

except you didn't make it to the kitchen.

this time it was leah and alessia who woke up to yelling, though this time when it was a cry of pain they both scrambled out of bed, tripping over one another in their haste to get to you.

"baby?" "love?"

you groaned in pain at the bottom of the stairs, leah hastily grabbing the back of alessia's shirt to stop her following in your footsteps.

"leah!" the striker gasped with wide eyes, the stairs covered with mountains of toilet paper supposed to look like snow which is what had caused you to slip down them.

"alessia!" leah echoed in the same tone, eyes falling to the kitchen where a thin layer of flour covered the entire room head to toe. but hearing you groan both of them snapped out of it, carefully making their way down as fast as they could toward you.

"do not touch me!" you warned as they reached you, the scarily calm tone of your voice causing them both to recoil as you gradually got to your feet. "baby we didn't-" alessia's words fell short as you held up a hand.

"not a word, from either of you." you whispered, anger on the brink of boiling point as you turned on your heel, slightly limping as you headed for the kitchen, none the wiser of what was to greet you as all you wanted was an ice pack for where you'd landed right on your ass.

"oh this is going to be ugly." leah mumbled, grabbing alessia's hand as you rounded the corner and your eyes landed on the kitchen.

"my love we-" again their words fell short as you held up a hand, back faced toward them as you leant forward, sagging against the counter as your hands gripped the marble with white knuckles.

a thick uncomfortable silence formed, both alessia and leah sharing a terrified look as you slowly turned, a murderous look in your eyes.

it was safe to say the words that followed were not PG13, both of your lovers remaining deadly silent as you ranted and raged at them, storming upstairs and changing in the blink of an eye, door slamming after you as they both cringed and hurried off to clean up and get themselves ready.

which is what brought you back to present time, sat beside katie as you finished recounting the mornings events to her. "fuck, well that explains it. incoming!" the irishwoman nodded toward the door where your girlfriends had entered.

alessia tried to approach you first as katie mumbled her a good luck and darted away after caitlin, however the piercing glare and stony silence she received were enough to send her right back to leah.

the older blonde was next, taking a much bolder approach as you felt her sit down beside you as you were hunched over tying up your laces. "baby girl." she started sweetly, wincing as your head shot up and your eyes slit into a glare, the name which normally had you swooning having no effect whatsover.

"both of you need to stay away from me. do not talk to me, look at me, breathe near me for the entire day." you warned the defender before stomping out of the change rooms, a few of the other girls gravitating toward her to question what had happened.

true to your wishes both girls steered clear of you, though that didn't stop you feeling their eyes on you throughout the day. they'd hoped to catch you maybe in a better mood once training was done but you'd already left, not bothering to shower but rather leaving as soon as you could, the first one gone for the day.

when they came home it was to no surprise you were once again locked in the spare room, a stony silence meeting them as they knocked gently, leaving you be for a few hours and hoping with time you might come to them.

when that didn't happen, they knocked heads together to come up with an alternative plan.

which is what lead to yet another round of knocks on the door, your head turning to look at it with a roll of your eyes, tucked up and watching a movie quite comfortably. but thats not to say you wouldn't be more comfortable with your blondes either side of you.

"baby. please open the door and let us apologize face to face." alessia begged softly. "please love, we really miss you and we want to make things right." lead added on quietly, a soft thump sounding as her forehead rested against the door.

with a sigh you paused your movie, getting up to unlock the door, not opening it as you settled back into bed and your girlfriends took that as a green light as they pushed it open slowly and stepped inside.

you refused to look either one of them in the eye as they sat on the edge of the bed, giving you a healthy amount of space not wanting to overstep your boundaries. "we are so incredibly sorry gorgeous." alessia started softly. "very very very sorry." leah nodded enthusiastically.

"for?" you questioned, still not meeting their eyes. you didn't miss the way alessia elbowed leah, the girl clearing her throat for a moment.

"for turning something that was supposed to be fun and light hearted into a competition, and getting carried away with that competition and being immature, selfish numpties." leah recounted, the tone in which she used making it clear it had been rehearsed as you tried to keep the smile off your face.

"if you come downstairs with us please babe we have a surprise." alessia asked hopefully. "please." leah added on as you finally met their eyes and nodded, still remaining quiet but standing up to follow them regardless.

"what-" you started as leahs hands came to cover over your eyes and alessia steadied you, grabbing your hands and guiding you downstairs. "just go with it." leah encouraged as you sighed but nodded none the less allowing them to guide you.

"ta-da!" you blinked a few times as your eyes adjusted to the light, but once you did your hand moved to cover your mouth.

before you was a pillow fort they'd both clearly put some time and effort into building, spare duvets and cushions littering the tee-pee like space. one of the elves was sat on top of a pile of pizza boxes and snacks, holding a sign that said he was very sorry for misbehaving.

the other was taped to a spoon which was dunked into a mug of hot chocolate, next to him was a sign that read 'it was all his fault but i took care of him' and an arrow pointing toward him.

"they wanted to say they were sorry as well." alessia grinned, leah taking her chances and wrapping her arms round your waist, her chin settling on your shoulder and body relaxing when you didn't pull away or push her off.

"we are also very sorry baby, very very sorry." leah murmured as alessia hugged you, effectively sandwiching your body between them as you sighed. "you're both forgiven. but those elves are finding new homes and they are not welcome back!" you warned, all three of you pausing before laughter broke out.

"we've got christmas movies, lots of pillows and blankets, snacks, pizza, cuddles, kisses and even got a pint of your favourite ice cream from that little place down the road." leah recounted as alessia took your hand and guided you down into the little fort.

"the peanut butter choc chip one?" you perked up at that as the strikers face paled. "you told me her favorite was the rocky road!" leah groaned glaring at alessia who shrank into herself with a sheepish smile.

"less that's your favourite flavor!" you cracked a grin, smacking her thigh playfully as leah shoved her head to the side. "you still like it though, you always steal mine when we go babe." the striker pouted, pulling your body to sit between her legs as she leaned into leah's side.

"merry almost christmas, my pretty girls." leah smiled lovingly, hand resting on the back of alessia's neck and pulling her into a kiss, leaning down to press her lips against yours next, alessia following suit, pulling away and kissing your nose causing you to scrunch it up adorably.

"i love you both very much, even if you drive me to the brink of insanity sometimes." you craned your head up to look at them, tapping your lips again with a cheeky smile as both of them took turns giving you what you wanted.

it was safe to say after that you were not surprised to see the next day both elves on katie's instagram story, wasting no time texting caitlin a firm warning about their misbehavior.

as well as a strict reminder they were not welcome back into your home, not even for a visit.

#alessia russo x reader #leah williamson x reader #woso x reader #woso blurbs #alessia russo #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso community #leah williamson #engwnt #woso

938 notes · View notes

forlix · 10 months

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‧ ❆ ˚ 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬

— eight winter-themed fics for each member of stray kids written by myself (@forlix) and my sahar (@astraystayyh)! alternatively titled dead dick december lmfaooo

— important notes :

6/8 completed; last updated 3/19/24

no specific holidays are mentioned by name

gendered pronouns used only in chan's, minho's, and han's fics

minors & ageless blogs please dni w/ han's fic as it is nsfw

fics will be posted between dec. 2023 and mar. 2024

. . . also, we will be opening a taglist for this series! send me or sahar an ask or reply to either of our masterlists if you'd like to be added ♡ (minors and ageless blogs will not be tagged in han's)

pieces of you・bang chan・@astraystayyh・8.7k ⤷ single dad!chan, neighbors!au, fluff, angst, slow burn. posted 2/12/24.

in which you and chan are each other's missing pieces. alternatively, chan and his daughter come knocking at your apartment asking for flour, and he's suddenly no longer embarrassed when you open the door.

something has melted・lee minho・@forlix ⤷ spy x family!au, fake dating!au, fluff

your obnoxious coworkers never get off your ass about how single you are, and your temporary husband is too happy to make them eat their words.

burning in the winter wind・seo changbin・@astraystayyh・4.4k ⤷ (fake) enemies to lovers, college!au, hurt/comfort. posted 2/26/24.

sustaining an ankle injury during a ski retreat isn't fun. especially when seo changbin volunteers to stay back to tend to you—the one man you can never get a read on.

the snow falls, we fall apart・hwang hyunjin・@astraystayyh ⤷ roommates!au, friends to lovers, slow burn, hurt/comfort. posted 3/19/24.

when heartbreak looms on your life, and winter becomes a time you loathe, hyunjin helps you rewrite your memories with the season, and with it, everything you once believed about love.

(18+) empty my mind・han jisung・@forlix・6.4k ⤷ friends with benefits to lovers, smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort. posted 1/6/24.

stars flare brightest in the absence of light, and you see his clearer than day.

everything has changed (besides myself)・lee felix・@forlix・5.4k ⤷ babysitter!au, exes to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff. posted 12/9/23.

you spend three years loving him, six months losing him, and four hours waiting for him to get the hell out of your house. but the human heart is more stubborn than you know.

warm winter・kim seungmin・@forlix ⤷ established relationship, hurt/comfort, fluff

"i don't deserve you," he breathes, "but god, i want to."

please fall before i fall・yang jeongin・@astraystayyh・2.8k ⤷ childhood best friends to lovers, fluff, hint of unrequited love (they're idiots). posted 1/18/24.

three times you saved jeongin's ass and the one time he saved yours (and ended up confessing along the way).

#thank you to the best songwriter of our generation (aka han jisung) for these titles #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz fluff #skz imagines #skz scenarios #bang chan x reader #lee know x reader #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #han jisung x reader #lee felix x reader #seungmin x reader #jeongin x reader #*writing #SO EXCITED FOR THIS :")

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kwanisms · 9 months

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🎄 Tales from Camp Holiday Special 05 🎄

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➮ chef!Mingyu × fem baker!Reader wc: 6.6k summary: Mingyu and his wife, Y/N, get a little dirty while closing up the bakery the night before Christmas Eve. genres/themes/au: nothing but fluff and smut; holiday themes; non idol au, chef au, baker au, married couple au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, established relationship, mentions of stressful work conditions, sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist: @yoonguurt @wonw00t @aikisbbq @enhacolor @duchesskaren @sherituhhh @wonderfulshinee @gaebestie @drunk-on-dk @seokgyuu @salty-for-suga @aaniag @dnylwoo @1004luvangel join my taglists: main | TFC: Holiday Special closes when part 7 goes up! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: i'm back with more foodplay! It plays a much bigger role this time lol Mingyu and MC are pretty nasty, going at it in their own business kitchen. This one was so fun to write, expanding on their dynamic and how they’ve grown since meeting at camp all those years ago. Now they’re married and the banter is adorable. I love their relationship. Thank you so much for reading and if you like this part, please reblog! As always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: unprotected sex (they're married but yall should use protection unless ur married too just, protect yourself lol) oral (m receiving), marking (m receiving), strength kink, size kink, bottom!Mingyu (but he's stronk boy), foodplay (frosting, whipped cream, cherries, etc), some light temperature play (ice; f receiving, m receiving), creampie (yum), dirty talk, begging kink, slight degradation (m receiving), it’s dirty, it’s filthy, they’re nasty lol

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Soft jazzy tunes floated through the air, drowned out by the chatter of customers as you headed back up to the front counter, a smile plastered on your face. Your cashier looked almost beside herself as she tried to get the terminal to work. “I’m here,” you said, drawing her attention. You could see the tears threatening to spill.

You felt your heart hurt for the poor girl. Amara was a hard worker but she’d never worked the holiday season with you at your bakery so she wasn’t prepared for the volume of orders, especially on Christmas Eve.

It was your fourth holiday season so you were falling into a practiced routine by this point. The rush, the influx of customers and orders, and of course, the Karens. Seeing as you were the owner of the establishment, you got to choose how to deal with these difficult customers as you saw fit.

The perks of being the boss.

Leaning in, you whispered in her ear. “Go into the back and take a break. I got this.” She nodded and thanked you, slipping past you and through the back door as you turned to greet the customer in front of you. “Sorry about that,” you said softly as you exited the program on the computer and rebooted it.

“It’s her first Christmas working with us,” you explained. “How can I help you?”

The man in front of you rolled his eyes and you could already tell what kind of interaction you were about to have. “Maybe this place should hire competent workers,” the man snapped angrily. You kept the smile on your face. “We do hire competent workers,” you replied. “But we’re all human and we all get overwhelmed and stressed from time to time.”

The man scoffed. “It’s unprofessional.”

The smile finally slipped from your face. “It’s unprofessional to be a human being?” you asked, a hint of confused annoyance to your voice. “It’s unprofessional to get emotional at work. It’s a place of business.” You narrowed your eyes. “And it’s childish to berate and scream and curse at an eighteen year old girl,” you snapped back, taking the man by surprise.

“How dare you speak to me like that,” he said indignantly, puffing up with an air of superiority. “I want to speak to your manager!” ‘Ah… the magic words,’ you thought to yourself, smiling inwardly. “I’m sorry, sir,” you replied. “The manager isn’t here right now.”

Mingyu cursed to himself as he walked, tripping over the curb but thankfully didn’t fall. He continued to the back passenger door of his car, opening it before leaning down to grab the paper sacks, balancing them precariously in his arms as he attempted to close the door with his hip.

Only once it clicked shut and the car beeped, signaling it locked, did Mingyu walk away, heading down the sidewalk towards the bakery. He’d gone to grab some last minute supplies as you had run out of a few spices and some extracts. He’d also grabbed the stuff to whip up a pre-Christmas Eve dinner for you and your workers.

He cursed the busy sidewalk and businesses lining the street for making him park so far away and having to walk the rest of the way to the bakery. He knew the place was busy but he didn’t realize how busy it was going to be.

Upon reaching the bakery, he swore under his breath as he realized his hands were no longer free to open the door and let himself in. Lucky for him, a patron chose that exact moment to exit, their purchases in their hands. They held the door for him, allowing him to enter the establishment. Mingyu thanked them and hurried in where the crowd seemed to have doubled in size.

As he reached the counter, he set the bags down, opening the small door before grabbing the bags and moving to the back where he set them down, looking around. He caught the eye of one of your bakers and gestured at the bags. “Could you unload these for me. I’m gonna pop up front and help Y/N,”

The baker, Geoffrey, nodded and moved over to the table as Mingyu shrugged out of his coat, hung it up, and grabbed an apron, tying it on before heading out into the store front where he saw you standing at the register, arguing with an older man who was red in the face.

Mingyu walked over, ready to launch over the counter at the man who was currently shouting at his wife.

“What’s going on here?” Mingyu asked, announcing his arrival. The man looked up from you, giving Mingyu a once over. A smile of relief spread over your face. “Perfect,” you said. “Here’s the manager,” you said, turning back to the man and stepping away from the terminal to help the next guest while Mingyu took your place.

“What seems to be the problem, sir?” Mingyu asked, knowing before the man even spoke what he would be dealing with. It was a sort of code between the two of you, calling him the manager was just a way of setting up the rude customers to realize the consequences of their actions.

Most of the time, when Mingyu entered the equation, they would demand that you be fired for being incompetent or rude or refusing to give a discount. It often led to hilarity when Mingyu, keeping up with the charade, would insist he can’t do that before revealing that you were the owner.

Which is what he was prepared to do but he didn’t have the chance when the red-faced man spoke.

“I’ve never been treated so poorly in an establishment in all my life!” he shouted, drawing the attention of most of the customers, some who were already recording the exchange on their phones. “I’m friends with the owner! I should call him and tell him what an awful bunch of employees he’s allowing to run his business.

Mingyu kept the fake smile on his face. “Oh, you know the owner?” Mingyu asked, to which the man nodded, pulling his phone out. “I’ll call him right now!” he threatened. Mingyu shook his head. “Don’t worry about it,” he started, picking up the phone. “I’ve got the owner on speed dial,” he added, pushing a series of buttons. He waited for the first ring before handing the phone to the man.

“It’s ringing,” he said. “You can talk to the owner yourself.” The man snatched the phone and held it to his ear, grumbling about finally getting real service. Mingyu waited by the terminal, apologizing to the customers waiting patiently behind the man.

You felt your phone buzz in your pocket and apologized to the customer in front of you. She was a regular so she understood that when the boss’ phone rings, the boss had to answer it. You checked the screen and saw it was the number for the store calling you. Resisting the urge to smile, you excused yourself to the customer and swiped the green button, bringing the device to your ear.

“Hello?” you asked, glancing over to where Mingyu stood, giving you a devilish smile, the irate man holding your store phone to his ear. “Yeah,” the man snapped. “I want to speak to the owner of this bakery. Where is he?” Still fighting back that smile, you responded.

“Oh, that’s me. I’m the owner!”

The man looked up from the phone, turning his head to lock eyes with you. He then pulled the phone from his ear and looked at Mingyu. “What is this? She’s the one who was rude to me!” Mingyu took the phone from the man, hanging it up. “Yeah,” Mingyu replied. “She’s the owner. If you’re going to lie about knowing the owner, at least do your research about the place you’re trying to scam,” Mingyu said, looking up at the man, his smile now gone. “Also, you’re lucky I love my wife too much to cause a scene in her establishment. So either we can start over from the top and you can be nice or you can get out and never come back,” Mingyu said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“It’s your choice.”

╾───────────────────⭒✧⭒──────────────────╼

“Thank you, come again!” you called, waving as the last of the patrons exited and you walked over to flip the sign, turning the lock on the door and turned around to look at Mingyu who was counting the drawer. You walked over with a sigh, giving Amara a smile as she started to sweep.

“Thank you for handling that customer,” Amara said softly. “He reminded me of my dad and I just couldn’t…” she trailed off. You placed a comforting hand on her back. “It’s alright, Amara,” you told her. “I don’t deal with customers like that. I give them one chance to start over and if they don’t, they don’t get served. I’m not going to let customers walk all over me or my employees.”

“Babe,” Mingyu called, making you look in his direction. “Can you take over for me? I’m gonna get started on that dinner.” You nodded, moving around to the backside of the counter and over to the terminal. “Thank you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your cheek and disappearing into the back.

You started counting, adding to his progress as Amara continued to sweep. She reached the counter and glanced at the door before leaning on the counter. “Miss Y/N?” she asked, making you look up with wide eyes. You hadn’t noticed she’d gotten so close. “Yes?”

“It might be a little personal but can I ask you something?” You nodded as you finished counting the drawer and shut the drawer, keeping the till in your hands. “What’s it like, being married to the nicest, most handsome guy in the world?”

You let out a laugh at her question. You weren’t laughing at her, just at the wording. “Don’t let Mingyu hear you say that,” you said softly. “It’ll fan his ego even more.” Amara smiled but waited for your answer all the same. “Being married to Mingyu is like having a massive, overly excited golden retriever but it can talk. He’s nice and always happy,” you explained.

“But he’s also clumsy, loyal, honest, and trustworthy,” you continued, shifting your weight to your other foot. “He’s a people pleaser,” you added. “Always wanting to help or be involved in some way, which is why he’s making dinner for the staff right now.” Amara’s smile widened.

“You really hit the jackpot, didn’t you?” she asked in a dreamy voice. You smiled, nodding. “I certainly did,” you replied, making your way over to the door to the back. “Taking the kitchen assistant position at summer camp when I was in culinary school was probably the best thing that ever happened to me.” Amara tilted her head. “Why’s that?” she asked.

“That’s where I met Mingyu.”

Amara went back to her sweeping while you entered the kitchen, eyes landing on your husband as he stood at the stove, a steaming saucepan on one of the back burners as he stirred something in a skillet. You tore your gaze from him, heading for the office instead to finish up your closing duties.

As you separate the cash transactions, resetting the drawer to its starting amount and putting the sales away in the safe. Shutting the door, you returned to your desk to finish up some paperwork you’d been putting off. As you were filing it away, you heard a knock on the door and looked up at one of your employees. “Hey, is it alright if I take off? My wife and the baby are waiting for me for Christmas Eve dinner and I really don’t wanna keep them waiting.” You smiled up at them.

“Sure, Candy,” you answered. “Make sure to take one of the extra pies on the counter. And tell Bethany I said hello,” you added. Candy smiled at you, thanking you as they headed back into the kitchen. You heard them call out a holiday parting to Mingyu who repeated the sentiment.

Getting up from the desk, you walked over to the door and peered into the kitchen. Mingyu was plating the finished food and looked up as you entered the kitchen. “Candy just left,” he announced, returning his gaze to his work. “I know,” you replied, walking over to where he stood.

“I told her to take one of the pies,” you added. Mingyu looked up at you before looking at the counter where the pies stood. “I hope they didn’t take the cherry one,” he pouted as he went back to his work. You rolled your eyes playfully, leaning against the counter.

“The cherry is already put away for us.” you replied, smiling when your husband looked up at you with excited eyes. He finished spooning sauce onto the food and returned the skillet to the stove. “So,” you started, looking down at the plates. There were four of them. “What have you made for us today, Chef?”

Mingyu moved back, standing in front of you, his hands landing on your hips. “I like it when you call me that,” he murmured, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips. “Makes me feel all tingly.” You pushed him back playfully. “Alright, pervert,” you replied as Amara and one of your chefs, Finn, walked into the kitchen. “Dinner is served,” you said, narrowing your eyes at Mingyu.

“Tell them what you’ve made,” you added, turning to face Amara and Finn.

They were your two youngest employees. Amara was still in high school but wanted to become a pastry chef like you and Finn. Her parents were both successful in business and from what Amara let on, they weren’t very involved in her life except financially so she had come to see you as sort of an authority figure, likening you to the older sister she never had.

Finn, on the other hand, had moved across the country, settling in this town and finding work at your bakery the year it opened. Finn’s family were back in his hometown and he could never afford to fly home to see them so you had always made sure to make it known he was welcome to spend the holidays with you and Mingyu.

“I have made for you, pan-seared duck breast with a peppercorn cream sauce and roasted garlic butter parmesan potatoes,” he announced, gesturing at the plates. “And!” he added, rushing over to the fridge, opening it and disappearing for a moment to emerge with two unopened bottles of red wine.

“Could you grab the glasses for me?” Mingyu asked and you shook your head, walking over to your office to grab four glasses. Amara looked nervously from the bottle of wine to you and back. “Am I… allowed to have wine?” she asked softly. “I don’t want to get in trouble.”

You smiled as you returned. “This one,” you said, tapping one of the bottles on the lid. “Is my favorite wine and is a non-alcoholic wine by Leitz.” You could see the relief wash over Amara’s face. “And this one is a Jacques Bourguignon,” Mingyu added, tapping the other bottle. “It does have alcohol.”

You rolled your eyes as you opened the bottle of Leitz, pouring a glass for yourself and one for Amara as Mingyu opened and poured a glass of the Bourguignon for Finn and himself. The four of you stood in the kitchen, sipping on your wines and cutting into your food.

“This is amazing!” Amara said with a sigh. “I had no idea you could cook so well!” Laughter burst out of you as you sat on the counter, nursing your glass of non-alcoholic wine. Finn doubled over, clutching his stomach in laughter as Mingyu looked slightly offended.

Amara glanced from you to Finn, confusion on her face. “What did I say?” she asked, pouting. You patted her shoulder from your spot. “Mingyu is a chef,” you answered. Amara’s eyes widened comically as she started sputtering an apology. “I’m so sorry! I had no idea! I thought he was just really good at cooking!” You stifled more laughter with a sip of your wine.

Mingyu shook his head. “It’s okay,” he replied. “I don’t really talk about it much,” he continued. “But I actually own a restaurant.” Amara’s eyes widened even more as she started apologizing again. “It’s okay!” Mingyu reassured her and you smiled fondly, watching your husband comfort the poor girl.

After eating, Finn headed out after you refused to let him do the dishes, telling him you and Mingyu had it covered. You headed back into the office to check your calendar and finish the rest of your paperwork while Mingyu and Amara worked on cleaning up the kitchen.

At about half past 7, you decided you were done with your office duties. Anything you didn’t finish today you could finish the day after Christmas. You stretched your arms, flexing your fingers before getting up and opening the door to see how Mingyu and Amara were getting on.

“Have you finished cleaning up,” you asked, peering into the kitchen to see your husband standing at the counter. He looked up, meeting your gaze. “Not yet,” Mingyu answered, lowering his gaze back down to the bowl of frosting on the counter. “I sent Amara home,” he added, glancing back up as you entered the kitchen, moving over to stand beside him and starting to collect the decorating tools.

“Her parents are hosting a party so I said we can manage,” Mingyu continued. “Hope that was okay,” he added and you nodded, looking up at him. “Of course,” you replied, looking back down as you gathered the icing bags and tips. “I don’t mind cleaning up the kitchen with my husband.”

Mingyu’s smile widened, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your cheek. “Besides,” you continued, dropping the tools in the hot soapy water and moving back to grab the silicone spatulas. “If she was here I couldn’t do this,” you added, swiping your finger over the spatula you just grabbed, the tip coated in white chocolate sauce. You turned to your husband, reaching up to spread the sauce on his cheek, letting out a giggle as you licked your finger clean.

Mingyu snorted, reaching a hand up to wipe up your mess but you stopped him, pulling his face to yours before licking the sweet confectionary off his skin. “Yah,” Mingyu whined as you pulled back and licked your lips. “I guess it’s a good thing I sent her home,” he continued.

“If she had seen that, I would have been very embarrassed.”

You rolled your eyes and moved to take the other silicone spatula, scooping some of the chocolate sauce on your finger. When Mingyu wasn’t paying attention, you dabbed some onto his face, smearing it near the corner of his mouth.

“Stop,” he chuckled, grabbing the spatula. “I’m gonna be all sticky.”

You snorted into a giggle as you fought your husband for dominance over the spatula. Mingyu took his chance to smear some chocolate sauce on your face, laughing when you stared at him in stunned silence. “Gotcha!” he chuckled. You pulled the spatula free and started to advance on him.

“No!” he squealed, running from you, his long legs helping him cross the kitchen quickly. You on the other hand were just fast, catching up to him and cornering him against the corner counters. “I was just returning the favor!” he whined as you wiggled your fingers, the tip of your index still covered in white chocolate.

“Here,” you said, holding out your hand. “Even the playing field.” You offered your finger with the chocolate sauce on it. Mingyu stared at the spatula in your hand, breathing a sigh of relief when you tossed it into the sink nearby. Mingyu took your hand, pulling it towards his face and sticking your finger in his mouth, cleaning the chocolate off your skin.

The action was one you’d done many times, letting him lick everything from whipped cream to cheese sauce from your finger. He was never one to turn down having your fingers in his mouth. The pent up frustration from the day pushed you to pull your hand from his mouth, grabbing the front of his smock and pulling him into a heated kiss, tasting the chocolate on his tongue.

You pulled back after a moment, your lungs burning and screaming for air. Mingyu turned your head, immediately licking off the frosting on your cheek slowly, taking his time to savor it. You let out a groan, feeling one of his hands wander down, fingers squeezing your ass.

“Your turn,” you whispered, your voice slightly hoarse as you tilted his hand and licked the frosting from his face, ending in a sloppy kiss that tasted like a mix of white and milk chocolate sauces.

“We should probably finish closing up,” you murmured as Mingyu pulled back, resting his forehead against yours. “Yeah,” he replied breathlessly. “We probably should.”

Despite agreeing, neither one of you moved first until Mingyu’s hands wandered up, cupping your chest. “Or,” he offered, pulling back to look into your eyes. “We can finish off these sauces before we let the bowls soak.” You studied his face, looking into his eyes before coming to a conclusion.

“Okay,” you replied. “Go make sure the front door is locked,” you ordered.

Mingyu was off like a cannon, rushing to the storefront to make sure the door was locked, neon sign turned off before he returned to the kitchen as you were pulling out another steel bowl from the fridge and the leftover strawberries. You turned as he started to untie his apron.

“I figure we can eat some of this stuff with the leftover fruit,” you explained, showing him the bowl and the basket of strawberries. Mingyu flashed you a wide grin as you walked over to the counter and set your finds on the metal surface, moving to untie your apron.

You felt your husbands nimble fingers tug at the knots and help you remove the article. You turned, thanking him with a kiss before taking both yours and his aprons over to the hamper and tossing them in. You returned to Mingyu, hopping up onto the counter and picking up a strawberry. You dipped it into the chocolate and held it up for Mingyu.

He smirked, parting his lips and allowing you to push the chocolate covered fruit in his mouth. Mingyu dipped a piece of melon in the cream cheese frosting, holding it up for you to take it. You parted your lips slowly, keeping your gaze locked on his as you leaned forward, taking the fruit in your mouth.

You noticed the way your husband’s eye lingered on your lips, even after you pulled back with a grin.

The two of you continued to feed one another fruit and chocolate sauce. As you leaned back, holding yourself up with one of your hands, Mingyu leaned in, taking your lips in a measured kiss. Your lips parted and you felt his tongue along with chocolate sauce spill into your mouth.

“Come here,” Mingyu murmured, hands reaching up to undo the buttons on your chef smock, his lips meeting yours once more. Once he managed to undo the last button, he pushed the fabric aside, groaning as he buried his face into your chest, immediately kissing at your skin.

“This needs to come off,” he growled, pulling back just enough to undo the front closure on your bra and pull it off of you along with your smock. You groaned, back arching into his touch as you felt his mouth close around one of your nipples, tongue swirling around the bud.

You leaned back, one hand tangling in the mess of his black locks while the other supported your body. Mingyu pulled back, reaching over to grab a strawberry which he dipped in white chocolate sauce and promptly started to trail up your body from your navel. He smeared the sauce up your stomach and between your breasts, stopping to spread some over your nipple before holding the strawberry to your lips. You took it, moaning as his head ducked down to your stomach, licking up the path of the sauce.

Your thighs tightened around his waist as his tongue brushed over your nipple, taking it into his mouth to suck off the chocolate. Mingyu pulled back, moving back up to kiss you again, his hands fumbling with the ties on your pants. “What about you?” you whined. Mingyu chuckled as he pulled your pants down, thanking you when you lifted your hips to assist him.

“You’ll get your turn,” he murmured. “Lay down,” he instructed. You did as he asked, moaning as he kissed his way down your stomach, lips meeting the band of your panties. He stopped to glance up, meeting your gaze before he continued to kiss over the thin lace.

You moaned out his name, spreading your thighs wider as you felt his tongue press against you, only the black lace separating his tongue from where you wanted it the most. “F-ah! Fuck, baby,” you whimpered as you felt Mingyu leaned more into it, heat from his mouth spreading through your soaked panties.

“Just take them off, please!”

Mingyu pulled your panties down your legs, dropping them with the rest of your clothes. His head was back between your thighs quickly, tongue flicking rapidly against your clit as he held your thighs open. Your back arched off the counter, fingers tangling in his hair as you tried to push his head closer.

Mingyu groaned as you tugged on his hair, the sound vibrating against your cunt and sending waves of pleasure throughout your body. “Oh shit,” you gasped, eyes rolling shut as Mingyu licked and sucked at the sensitive bundle of nerves. The slurping sounds, coupled with your mewls and his groans against your pussy filled the room. It was so lewd and almost vile. You’d have to remember to sanitize and sterilize this station before opening back up on the 27th.

Mingyu’s fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs as he held your thighs open, tongue and lips messily moving against your cunt. “So good,” you breathed out, combing your fingers through his hair. You felt one of his hands slide up your body to grope at your chest, kneading gently as he continued to suckle.

“M’close,” you warned suddenly, feeling the tension in your body build, ready to snap at any moment. Instead of pulling away and letting you fall back from the edge, Mingyu drove you over it, tongue flicking in quick motions against your clit, groaning at the taste as you came, your juices flowing out of your pulsating hole.

“Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuck,” you groaned, fingers in Mingyu’s hair tightening as you held his head still, your hips moving of their own accord, grinding yourself on his tongue as you rode out your high. Mingyu pulled away much too soon for your liking and as you were about to protest, he pressed his lips against yours, tongue slipping into your mouth.

“Tastes so good, baby,” he groaned against your lips. “Tastes better than anything,” he murmured as he pulled back. “Y-your turn,” you stammered, trying to sit up but Mingyu held you down. “Later, angel,” he replied. “Let me just fuck you real good.”

You shook your head, pushing him back as you sat up. You made quick work of his shirt, tossing it aside as you turned your head to the chocolate sauce and dipped a piece of fruit into it, bringing it up to Mingyu’s lips before dipping a finger into the same sauce and smearing it across his chest and some down his stomach.

You slid from the counter, lowering yourself to lick the sauce from his skin. Mingyu let out a groan. You stood back up, grinning at him for a moment before grabbing the bowl of chocolate sauce and dropping to your knees. Mingyu watched as you undid the button on his jeans and pulled them down along with his underwear, almost groaning yourself as his cock sprang free.

He was fully erect, tip red and leaking as you let his pants and underwear pool at his ankles. You dipped your finger in the chocolate sauce and carefully spread it along the underside of his cock, licking your finger clean before grabbing the base of his shaft and lifting his cock.

Mingyu’s eyes fluttered shut as you licked a strip up his cock, cleaning the chocolate before swallowing. You then make sure to clean it all up before taking all of him in your mouth quickly. Your husband let out a groan, one hand moving to brace himself against the counter behind you while the other moved to the top of your head, stroking your hair gently.

“Fuck, that’s it baby,” he groaned, hips starting to move in tandem with the bobbing of your head. You let go of his cock, placing both hands on his thighs as you let him guide your movements. His cock hit the back of your throat, filling the room with a wet, lewd gagging sound. You pulled back, looking up at him.

Mingyu could have cum from the sight alone, you naked on your knees, looking up at him with glossy eyes, saliva starting to spill down your chin. “Fuck my face,” you gasped hoarsely. Mingyu didn’t need to hear it again, grabbing your head and guiding your lips to the tip of his cock.

He let out a moan as your head sank further, his cock gliding back into your mouth. He started slowly, giving a few measured thrusts before setting a steady pace, pumping in and out of your mouth. Each pull back, you allowed your tongue to swirl around the head of his cock until he stopped pulling out entirely. You gagged around him as he thrust into your mouth.

Your hands moved up to his hips, pulling him in as you tried to take all of his cock. “Oh fuck,” you heard him groan as the head of his cock slipped into your throat. You gagged around his cock, throat constricting as you tried to swallow. “Ah, shit!” he hissed. He pulled your head back, allowing air to fill your lungs again as his cock twitched.

Your hand moved back, fingers wrapping around him as you continued the momentum, stroking him quickly, spitting onto the head of his cock to add to the lubrication. “Fuck, fuck! Stop, baby!” He moaned, hand wrapping around your wrist. “I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop!”

You gave the head of his cock a light lick, giggling and looking up at him. Mingyu groaned at the sight and grabbed your wrist, tugging you up gently. “Up,” he ordered, helping you back up to the counter before he grabbed his cup of ice water.

“What’re you doing?” you asked, watching as he pulled the lid off and took a tip, tipping his head back. When he lowered the cup, he set it aside, leaving the lid off. In his teeth, he held an ice cube. He leaned forward, leaving open mouth kisses along your collar and chest with the ice cube gliding over your skin easily.

A chill went up your spine, nipples peaking as his mouth moved closer. You let out a gasp, feeling the icy liquid against the sensitive skin of your areolas. Mingyu swirled his tongue, allowing the melting ice cube to move around your nipple.

He pulled back, grabbing the cup and dumping more ice into his mouth. He kissed down your stomach, pushing you flat on your back as his head dipped between your thighs. You felt the ice against your clit and gasped loudly. His tongue toyed with your clit, the cold sensation contrasting with the heat radiating from between your legs.

Mingyu pulled back, swallowing down the ice. You sat up, grabbing his cup and dumped some ice into your mouth, pushing him back as you sucked on the cube. You lowered yourself, to your knees, fisting his cock before guiding the head back to your mouth.

Mingyu groaned out, pounding his hand against the metal counter as your cold mouth took more and more of his hot cock. You bobbed your head a few times, allowing the melting ice to rub along the underside of his cock.

“F-fuck,” he shivered. “Get up here,” he growled, pulling your head back and guiding you back to your feet. “On the counter.” You must not have moved fast enough for him because he turned you away, pushing you over the counter as he guided the head of his cock to your dripping entrance.

You felt him rub the tip around your slit, gathering your wetness and smearing it. You felt him rub his cock against you, rutting against your ass and dragging the underside of his shaft through your folds. “M’gonna fuck you so good,” you heard him groan, guiding the tip of his cock to your entrance again before taking your hips in his hands and pushing in.

You mewled, your walls stretching to accommodate the head of his cock. He stilled for a moment, panting as he tried to hold back but the way you wiggled your hips made it harder and harder and soon, he was bracing himself, fingers tightening on your waist before plunging his cock into you with one thrust.

The sudden intrusion caused you to cry out in both pain and pleasure, the ache and sting of the stretch pairing with the pleasure of feeling him filling you raw with his thick cock. “Lift this,” he urged, grabbing the back of your thigh and guiding your leg up, knee bent as he pushed your chest against the steel.

“Stay just like that,” he groaned, moving his hand back to your waist. He thrust into you, pulling back only slightly before thrusting again, setting a steady rhythm. He looked down, watching his cock sink into your cunt repeatedly, groaning at the sight of your juices already coating his shaft.

“That’s right,” he scoffed when you moaned loudly, fingers curling into a fist as you tried to brace yourself against his thrusts. “Only I fuck you this good, don’t I?” he groaned. You moaned in response, back arching as his hips started to slap against your ass.

“You like it when I stuff you full of this cock, don’t you?” he asked. You nodded, head dropping as you lost yourself in the pleasure. “Y-yes!” you gasped out. “Love it when you fuck my tight pussy with your big cock, Mingyu!”

You were stroking his ego but then again, your husband had pretty good thrust and hip game when it came to sex. He always left you feeling more than satisfied. “That’s right,” he retorted. “You’re such a little slut for me.”

Your walls clenched around him before you started to push back to meet his thrusts. The sudden action had him doubling over your back with a deep groan. “Mm, fuck!” you growled. “Oh shit. I love it when you do that,” Mingyu gasped. “Love it when you fuck yourself on my cock. Keep going, baby.”

You felt him slow his movements but you kept the momentum going, fucking yourself back on his cock, gasping and moaning as the tip nudged your cervix with each thrust. “Oh fuck, yeah,” Mingyu moaned, hands moving to the counter on either side of you, holding him up.

“Keep going,” he continued. “Fuck yourself. Use me like your own person fuck toy,” he added. “Oh god, Mingyu!” you whimpered, thighs shaking as your ass hit Mingyu’s hips with each thrust. “Call me your dirty little fuck toy,” Mingyu pleaded, his voice becoming breathless as he met your movements.

“You think you can tell me what to do?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder at him. “You’re my fucking slut,” you growled back. “Begging me to fuck your cock like some kind of whore.” Mingyu’s cock twitched, a groan escaping him. He made no attempt to move his hands, content to let you move at your own pace for now.

“Good, look at you,” you continued. “Willing to let me use that thick cock to get myself off.”

“How pathetic.”

“I’m sorry,” Mingyu said quickly. “I’ll be good,” he added. “Just keep using me.”

You scoffed, turning your head to look back forward. “I want you to fuck me,” you retorted. “I want you to fuck me hard. Make me scream. Make my legs shake. Make it so I can’t stand tomorrow.”

You felt his hands on your hips. “You sure, angel?” you heard him whisper. You nodded. “Yes,” you replied. “Fuck me, Mingyu. Fuck me hard.” Mingyu didn’t need to be told twice, grabbing your hips hard as he slammed into you from behind, a gasp ripping from your throat.

He set a relentless pace, pounding into you from behind as he drove both of you towards orgasm. “Your cock is so big, Gyu,” you moaned, cheek pressed against the cool metallic surface. “Feels so good. Feel it so deep.” “God, yes, Gyu. Please,” you whined.

“Please give it to me. Give it all to me,” you continued, his cock starting to twitch rapidly, each drag of your walls raw against his cock sending him further and further towards the edge. “F-fuck!” he gasped. “M’gonna cum, baby,” he warned. “Where you want it baby?” Mingyu asked, glancing down at you.

“Inside me. Just cum inside me, Gyu. Fill me up with your cum.”

He groaned, leaning over your back and sinking his teeth into your shoulder, sucking against your skin as his hips slammed into you, his release washing over him. Thick ropes of cum spilled inside you, painting your walls in white.

Mingyu rode out both your highs, thrusting sloppily into you as he forced his cum further into you. When his hips finally came to a halt, he let out a breathy chuckle and pushed himself up, looking down at the indentation of his teeth in your shoulder. He pulled back to see where his cock disappeared inside you, the base of it coated in his cum.

He internally winced as he pulled out, both from the sudden change and from the sight of his cum spilling out of your abused cunt. He gathered some of it with his fingers, pushing it back into you. “Keep that in there,” he said playfully as he looked down at your pussy.

“We need to finish cleaning up,” he murmured, moving to grab a clean kitchen towel and wet it before wiping your thighs and sex clean. He helped you back into your clothes before pulling his own on. You cleaned up the rest of the leftover chocolate sauce and fruit, dumping the bowls into the soapy water that was surprisingly still hot.

Mingyu washed the dishes while you cleaned and sanitized the counter you’d defiled. Once the dishes were clean and you were certain the countertop was sterilized, you returned to his side, sighing as he pulled you into his warm embrace. “Can we go now?” he asked softly, tilting your head back so he could kiss you.

You smiled against his lips, pulling back to nod and answer him. “Yes. We’re done and we can finally leave.” Mingyu’s lips spread into a wide grin. “Perfect,” he responded, taking your hand and pressing it against his growing erection. “Again?” you asked incredulously. He nodded with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“I’m not done with you just yet.”

ⓘ Graphics made by me. Content and support banners made using a template by cafekitsune. I do not allow reposts, translations, or continuations of my works. All writing and graphics are ©️ kwanisms.

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